#if i get to be under a couple meters away from him i am going to pass out

[thisvisionofmyspirit]

one of my favorite sensations in the world is seeing someone live for the first time and realizing how fucking tall they are so let's just say my first sleep token ritual, whenever that is, is going to be An Experience™

[kooktrash]

the art of obsession | kim taehyung

summary: in a world of painters and poets, there were two college students looking for the right sort of inspiration. through devotion in your craft, you find yourself drawn to kim taehyung—a grad student painter who’s everything you’ve ever looked for in a character. his walk, his form of speech, his art, it all captivated you to the point where you wanted to recreate him in words and you begin to realize how similar the two of you really are. you share a sort of obsession in your work that seems like only each other could understand and he invites you into his world of oil paints and charcoals in hopes of drawing you on paper.

✎ genre/au: dark academia. college au. painter!taehyung x writer!y/n [afab. she/her]

✎ 17.4K words

“He’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” — Wuthering Heights, Emily Brontë

warnings: smut. slight obsession with their work. prestigious college. tae literally takes oc to a graveyard. oc and tae dont take criticism well. unprotected intercourse. oral [f and m]. oc slobs on his knob and tae eats like it’s the last supper. missionary. side position. lowkey passionate sex. fireplace crackling. namjoon and oc used to be fwb. hints that oc and Jimin used to be fwb too. jungkook is tae’s sculpture artist bestie. jimin is oc’s ballerina bestie. namjoon is oc’s writer bestie.

The smell of cigarettes was something you were fairly used to being around where you resided. You’re not sure what makes it so popular among young academics and sometimes you wonder if it’s not the need of nicotine but more so the aesthetic of it that they all seem to enjoy. It seemed to always linger in the air around campus where all the grad students would walk with their heads down and bags under their eyes as stress took over their entire being. You understand the stress but being an undergrad student yourself, you’re not sure you could understand the extent of it that they must feel. All you could really do is watch the way it slowly deteriorates their body every time they step into the library.

Maybe it’s the Literature major in you, but you never fail to try and assess each person that walks in as if you could see their entire character design and what makes them who they are. Today you got a bit lucky because despite how slow your homework had been going, your favorite case of study had just walked in wearing his usual black turtleneck tucked into a pair of loose corduroy pants. He wore a pair of rounded wire glasses that you love getting to see him in and they did wonders to conceal the eye bags you knew were there.

With this smallest hint of entertainment you’ve found through your long and boring study session with only one friend to confide in, you shut your copy of — excuse the pretentiousness — The Pictures of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde, and lowered the volume on your headphones enough to be more aware of the cause of his visit today. You rarely saw him in the library and if he did happen to come by it was to check out or check in a single book on Michaelangelo or Davinci.

You were surprised by how close he seemed to have gotten to you today. The table you studied at was only a couple feet away from a book aisle he had currently walked down and now he was just a meter or so away with his head down in his book. The usual smell of smoke surrounded him and despite scrunching your nose at the smell, you chose to ignore it and study him a little further. You even went as far as to lower your headphones until they curled around your neck giving him your attention even if he didn’t know he had it.

As much of an observer as you were, you never seemed to catch on to the way his gaze would shift to you any time you weren’t looking, eyes scanning your features rather quickly as he made his own assessment. You dressed warmly today, probably due to the fact that there’s been a light rain that has been casted over the city, always seeming to linger longer where the buildings were older and all signs of urban life seemed to dissipate. You were dressed in neutral tones today that placed you perfectly with your own surroundings and if this was a painting he’s sure you would be the focal point—or maybe the single spec of bright color you wore which was in this case your powder blue headphones. He’s not sure he’s ever used that specific shade of blue in a single one of his works before but maybe he’ll look into it.

He rarely visited the library but when he did it was always a pleasant surprise to see you there. He didn’t care much to get to know you, he just found the aesthetic of it all captivating. The library was beautiful, truthfully, with its dark wood shelves and polished tile floors that echoed with each step. It was eerily quiet and it always smelled of old books and always reminded him of a cathedral. There were large stained glass windows of poets, painters, dancers, etc. the clear glass windows overlooked the large pond that covered the back of the small campus where the woods began to take over and student life decreased aside from the occasional late night college party hosted there between trees and bonfires.

“He always comes into my work for paints. I wonder why he always pays in cash.” Your friend said, suddenly appearing next to you and not messing with the printer anymore. He must’ve caught sight of Taehyung before he left and considering he worked at a supply store, it was no surprise he recognized him.

“Maybe he hates banks,” you joked, turning to Jimin with a smile. Jimin pursed his lips staring down the aisle where Taehyung had disappeared once he had his book, “Maybe cash is more aesthetically pleasing. He’s an art major, isn’t he? I say he’s too pretentious to use a plastic card—or even worse, Tap to Pay.”

At that you laughed, deciding to continue the teasing of a man you barely knew while also trying to defend him, “Do people ever get tired of throwing words around?”

“Are you referring to my use of ‘pretentious’?” Jimin asked as he moved to the other side of the counter, “I used the term correctly, it’s an adjective meaning, ‘attempting to impress by affecting greater importance and culture than is actually possessed’. His refusal to adhere to society’s technological advances is pretentious in itself. I bet he still uses No. 2 pencils as an act of defiance against mechanical pencils—if he was a writer like you he would probably be more drawn to a pen but he’s an artist and artists make mistakes that get covered up or changed.”

You couldn’t help but smirk at that, “Tell me then, Jimin, what does a ballerina use to convey words? An Arabesque?”

Jimin released a loud groan, “I hate this goddamn school.”

You watched him open his newest generation laptop and hide behind it. He knew now how little room he had to talk. You, yourself, couldn’t utter a word to disagree with him either when in your hand was a Montblanc fountain pen that cost your parents a hefty 1,500$ to get to you when you were first accepted into the school. You’re sure when the time comes for you to finish undergrad, they’ll up the price and give you one worth 4,000$—the most profound amount of proof that you did in fact strictly use pens for everything.

You would never dare mention anything revolving around the money Taehyung’s family is rumored to have because you don’t know anything about him to do so.

All you knew were the few things you’ve noticed — a couple that even made it into your journal — like the fact that he specialized in two mediums; charcoal and oil paintings. He’s a known name at the University for his work and dedication and you saw that through one of his works. It was dark and a bit twisted but it told a story and you think that’s what drew you into him before you even knew it was him.

Despite his strong presence that always seemed to draw you in, he had a gift for making himself invisible in a group setting. He never spoke up in class, never caused a fuss, he was in and out like a shadow.

At the start of the semester you were taken by surprise when you found him sitting in one of the back rows of the lecture hall to an advanced anatomy class that you’re sure you took for very different reasons. Taehyung was interested in the study of the body so he could fully understand the way the it works from the inside out. He wanted to understand how each limb moved, how fluid each bone and muscle connected, how they could contort, see where the organs go, imagine the flesh coming to life when he painted.

In literature, anatomy isn’t referring to the human body. It refers to a separation of a topic into smaller parts for detailed analysis of the work. You did not make a mistake when you chose this lecture, you too wanted to study the body for your work. You wanted to learn how fragile it really was, how it could be destroyed, how hard it was to do so. You wanted to know about which bones were weaker, which organ puncture did the most damage. You need visuals and understanding of its healing process, of the way it moved, how the nervous system worked. Once you had a better understanding of the body, you just knew that you would be able to apply all these things to your writing. You would be able to detail how your character’s body deteriorated outside and in. How the body would slowly break down, which nerves were affected, how the heart worked in that moment. It would be gruesome but intriguing enough for your readers.

Maybe you needed to write something not so dark, something that didn’t make you take courses you didn’t really need but wanted in hopes that they’ll help you understand better. You didn’t actually need to go this far to describe a couple grueling scenes but it helped.

The room was silent aside from the obnoxious sound of the clock, Tick… Tock… Tick… Tock…Ticking.

You stood at the front of your professor’s desk in his clustered office filled with classical literature books and awards for writing all over the shelves. His desk took up the majority of the space inside and whenever you were in here you couldn’t help but feel just a little suffocated. There were barely any words shared between the two of you, he only ever decided to truly grace you with his speech when he was critiquing and yet right now he’s been uncomfortably silent.

The silence had grown so long that you found your attention drifting toward the grandfather clock that was tucked away near the overwhelming stained glass window that overlooked the courtyard filled with wet and fallen leaves. The trees were bare and the fountain had a sculpture of a big swan with its wings spread in what looked like a dance. It always reminded you of the Swan Song, but you never knew if that was morbid of you. The idea of your University of Fine Arts decorating the campus in the black and white birds simply for decor always seemed strange to you too.

There was no way they would ever portray anything without meaning, or at least something not up for interpretation and yet every time you looked at one of the swans, you thought about the Swan Song, the way the bird’s wings were open beautifully with each detail chiseled into the stone. It looked like the swan’s final performance before its end. It wasn’t the sort of symbolism you liked to see at a school with such dedicated artists looking for a way to perfect every aspect of their work as if each one was their last.

“I like it,” your professor finally said, drawing your attention back to him in an instant, “Your writing has improved Y/n, I’m starting to really visualize the plot and I think it has a certain rawness to it that I’m not used to seeing from you.”

The corner of your lips turned upward like you wanted to smile but you wouldn’t fully allow yourself to. He hasn’t looked at you yet, his eyes stayed glued to your paper and it was clear he wasn’t done, “But it still feels stiff—well, the main character does. I can’t understand him yet, he’s just a mystery to me and not one I’m interested in unraveling. I can’t understand his depth and it’s becoming a big flaw in your writing. Everything else sounds wonderful, well articulated and with such emotion… that when I think of him all I see a huge lack of substance. He’s being drowned out by the rest and he’s supposed to be the one I follow when I read.”

You didn’t say anything as your jaw slowly clenched shut, eyes unwavering as he went on, “It’s like you have a lack of knowledge for human emotion and psychology, I’m not sure that’s something that can be easily fixed.”

“Does it make my writing bad?” You asked stiffly and he shook his head no.

“No, your writing is captivating but there’s a very huge disconnect I’m feeling from your characters,” he said, looking up at you, “It takes away the beauty of it.”

Your lips felt sewn shut as he handed you back your paper with all of his notes for you to fix and you felt like crying. You couldn’t even utter out a single word as you forced yourself not to react to his words and leave his office with your head held high.

What did he mean by disconnect? What more did he want you to do? What did you not understand about human emotion? You’re a human, what is there not to get? What else did he want from you?

These questions circled your head for what felt like an eternity, only confusing you more and more as you left for your next lecture. You spent the fifteen minute gap with your journal out jotting down every question that came to mind trying to see how you could find answers to these.

You sat alone in your row of seats waiting for other students to arrive and you took the time to brainstorm. He told you your characters lacked substance and implied that they were hard to visualize. He said that he can’t understand them, especially the lead and that he couldn’t be absorbed into a story about a character he doesn’t care for. He basically said that you lacked an understanding of emotional depth for the characters you write and therefore your stories will continue to have a disconnect until something changes. If only something could inspire you, maybe help you analyze these so-called emotions you couldn’t comprehend. You needed to remove some of the mystery around your character and really dive in on his arc, understand how he felt. How could you do that? It's not like you could fully visualize it yourself either unless you really began to study those around you more than you already do.

You sat up straighter in your seat and looked around as the lecture hall began to fill slowly. The room had a sort of ancient feel to it with long hazelnut rows of desks pressed side by side against each other in an amphitheater manner. There were diagrams and models of the human body plastered everywhere but none looked straight off of a doctor’s catalog. They looked like Davinci himself drew every skeleton in the room. It also had a small echo especially when the rain hit the wall or glass windows that sometimes tuned out the sound of talking students entering the hall.

You recognized most of the faces and the one who passed you as he went up a few rows seemed to distract you more than the others. Kim Taehyung didn’t wear glasses today but he wore a wool sweater and linen pants. There was a small splotch of gray paint on his knuckle that he hadn't seemed to notice as he swung his book bag onto the desk with a small thud, uncaring if anyone heard and ignored everyone around him.

He was similar to your character, almost. He always seemed closed off and unapproachable but behind his eyes was an aura of emotion that isn’t easily interpreted. You found yourself beginning to scribble down in your journal, just basic things you noted about him.

The lazy, bored look in his eyes that made him look tired and unamused by everything that happened around him.

Then there was his stance. He had good posture but when he sat down in his seat he leaned all the way back with his arms on the table like he was observing every person in the lecture hall, even you.

You knew this because for a second your eyes met with Taehyung’s and in that measly moment you just took in the sight of each other. Taehyung didn’t hold much expression in face but his fingers seemed to twirl his No. 2 pencil a little more intently now. He ran his gaze down from your eyes to the curve of your nose and curl of your lips. There was something about your facial features that he was delighted in studying. When you looked away and gave him a view of your side profile he leaned toward his desk more and the leather sketchbook that rested over his textbook was flipped open as he began to sketch you.

The drawing didn’t mean much to him, it was just a small doodle to pass time, his hands had to always be sketching and you happened to be his distraction today. Usually he doesn’t really pay attention to you when he’s in class, you sit far enough from each other that you never interact and when he catches you in the library you always seem lost in your own world.

He knows your name, he read your story last semester simply because it intrigued him. It was published on the school forum and won an achievement so he checked it out and it was good, your writing is intricate, or at least that’s what he thinks. He’s able to follow along to every word and not be bored or confused but with a certain degree of understanding that the reader needs to learn. There’s an aura of mystery around it, yet it was not something that he couldn’t comprehend and he thinks that’s why he was able to enjoy it.

At the end of the lecture he had three small drawings of you.

“Come on man, it won’t take long, just one drink,” Jungkook begged him for the third time in a row. Despite his friend’s darker exterior dressed in black jeans, a black tee, and a black leather jacket, he was way more outgoing. He was always trying to get Taehyung to go out for drinks or to party but he just doesn’t have the time.

“Not tonight,” Taehyung said as he opened up his pack of cigarettes and took one out, sliding it to his lips before burning the end with his lighter. He handed the pack to Jungkook who took it without question and did the same.

Jungkook released a sigh in disappointment, shaking his head a little as he said, “Whatever man, you say that every night.”

Taehyung shrugged his shoulders as he took a drag and pulled it out between his index finger and thumb, “Then get the hint.”

His friend wasn’t listening anymore, choosing instead to stare at the building in front of him, dimly lit from all the lamp posts. It was just after sunset and the only students around were probably working on assignments like Jungkook and Taehyung. Taehyung took advantage of the art room to work privately and in a bigger space while Jungkook worked in the warehouse where he could work on his new sculpture. Taehyung couldn’t understand why Jungkook cared about whatever was going on at the library till he casually looked over too.

“She looks familiar,” Jungkook said pointing to you as you walked down the sidewalk toward the bus stop. Taehyung looked too, you had a tote bag like most students around here and there was a butterfly clip in your hair but it still looked messy. Your hair was down earlier and at some point you decided to put it up and he realized now that he didn’t have a preference on how hair looks on someone. He likes the style you had earlier and the one you have now too because they enhance your features more.

“That’s Y/n,” Taehyung said casually as they went to the parking lot. Jungkook looked at him curiously before glancing back at you, “You know her?”

Taehyung didn’t have an answer for that so he didn’t give one, he just walked ahead wondering the same thing. “Let’s get a drink,” Taehyung finally gave in and Jungkook immediately cheered. “Yes! Okay, don’t worry, just one.”

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder… that is what every artist has ever been taught. Taehyung has never been able to disagree with a statement more than that one. There is not beauty everywhere, it is not as inclusive as one might think and to truly understand art in the many forms it could take, one needs to understand the meaning of genuine beauty.

It’s quite terrifying in a sense, for one to be able to lose control and fall for the Dionysian seduction and view beauty for what it truly is. It is a raw and exhilarating topic that cannot be defined by just looks or words but more the freedom of life, life is beautiful in its own twisted way and to accept that definition is to be able to portray that in what you do. That’s why Taehyung’s art tends to lean toward a more dark and twisted form. When he creates art he’s not just looking at creating something nice to look at or something with a hidden meaning that no one would ever truly understand. When he creates, he wishes to express human emotion through his work—he wishes to make others feel things they’ve never felt before and that is the beauty he is chasing after.

Beauty is not a person but a feeling and when he looks at you he seems to understand that better.

It’s not just your outward attractiveness that draws him in. It’s the terrifying beauty that you radiate in your gaze, in your mannerisms, in your writing. It intrigues him and if he could put you on a canvas and unravel everything inside you — your fears, your joys, your tears — he would but till then you’re nothing but a familiar stranger that invades his mind when he least expects it.

“Taehyung, your work is beautiful,” his professor said, “Everything you create is effortlessly perfect but…”

He waited with a bated breath, already not liking where this was getting. He watched closely to the way she tilted her head in curiosity, “It’s rather dark, don’t you think? Maybe hard for interpretation an—“

“It’s not made to be interpreted by anything but the way it is,” Taehyung said boldly, “Once art is set for others to create a new meaning for it, is it ever truly art?”

“I guess I am not understanding what you mean,” she said leaning forward against her desk.

Taehyung released a sigh like this conversation with his senior was tedious, “When you look at Picasso’s work, do you think he created it for others to understand? Or was that something that people began to believe? He created art that was unconstraining to himself and his life.”

“Yes but look at Salvador Dali, the entire aspect of surrealism that he used was to unleash the power of imagination and creativity. You can’t just shut your art into a small box for the sake of aesthetic,” she said and that made him scoff, his lip curled in distaste, “And let’s look at Monet? He’s practically what started the entire idea of Impressionism.”

“What it meant to him, how he viewed it at that moment, that was all,” Taehyung said, which made the advisor release a sign, “Claude Monet once said, everyone pretends to understand his art, as if it were necessary to understand when it is only necessary to love.”

“I’m afraid this conversation will go back and forth if we continue,” she said with a huff, already irritated by the way things are going, “The exhibition is in three months, in a month I’ll connect with you on how everything is looking and give you the rundown as well is there anything else you need from me, Mr. Kim?”

Taehyung shook his head and without a goodbye he was getting up from his seat and storming out. Not even a second after the chestnut double doors shut, did he find himself reaching into the pocket of his jeans to get his pack out. The cigarette sat perfectly between his lips as he blocked one side with the hand so the wind didn’t blow his lighter out and he lit the tip, ignoring the ‘No Smoking’ sign just a couple feet away. He couldn’t help but mumble, “Stupid bitch,” under his breath once he finally left the building.

As he rounded the corner, something hit his chest and his free hand immediately the person steady in front of him.

Your hand was on his chest to keep from hitting him and as you looked up, your eyes widened just slightly. Taehyung didn’t say anything as he let you go, brushing against your side and moving around you to leave feeling your eyes on him. You watched him head the way you just came from and finally snapped out of it when you heard your friend call for you.

He turned to look for you seeing you already walking over to some tall and muscular guy. The guy gave you a dimpled smile as he followed after you, no longer in Taehyung’s peripheral.

“Maybe he has a point, Y/n,” Namjoon said as he walked with you to the bus stop, “If you’re struggling then maybe you should think about altering the character more.”

You shook your head in displeasure, “No, I’m not going to change him, I just need to be able to visualize his characteristics.”

Namjoon released a sigh as he pondered over what advice to give you, but came up blank, “I mean… maybe you just need some real inspiration from those around you. ”

The both of you went silent trying to find a solution and you looked up at him curiously. Namjoon would be an amazing reference for a character but he doesn’t fit the image you want him to. He was like light, he was kind hearted and charming and so unbelievably smart but that’s not how you envisioned the main character in your story. The kind of character you had in mind was supposed to act similar to… well, Taehyung. He’s supposed to be a bit mysterious, cold, not necessarily a likable character but someone they can’t help but be curious about.

“Namjoon,” you called his name and for a moment he grew hopeful to the idea that maybe you were thinking of studying him the way you do with others—even if he knew that would never happen. Instead, you came to a stop and looked up at him, “I forgot my laptop in the ffice, I’ve gotta go get it.”

His brows furrowed, looking down at your tote bag, “I’ll come wit—“

“No, you have to work, right?” You asked, already backing away from him, “I don’t want to make you late, I’ll just catch the next bus.”

Before he could argue, you were already taking off in a hurry back down the way the two of you came from. With a sigh he watched you leave wondering why he always seemed to be a couple steps behind you and never beside you. All he’s done since he met you was follow your lead in friendship and outside of it.

Even when the two of you had sex months ago it was always when you wanted and never when he did. If he even thought to ask, all you did was blow him off and then question him on if he’s seeing anyone at the moment. In the same second you would press your lips to his cheek and remind him how much you adored him even when you blew him off he always found the act of it a bit poetic.

He loved you, but it’s a love unreturned and if he wants to stay by you, it has to be with him at the back of your mind and never at the forefront.

With that understanding, he had no choice but to let you go back toward campus walking across fallen leaves and dead branches while he went to the bus alone.

Your legs had taken off before you could even decide where to go and in the end you found yourself heading back the way in which you met with Namjoon—and also the way you bumped into Taehyung. You were never much of the shy type even if it appeared that way, your friends always said you were the selective type—only choosing who to be outgoing with and even then it was rare and required a lot of work to get to you.

They had it easy, Jimin was a childhood friend and Namjoon was in the same writing department as you but that’s as far as your circle went. Well, no, there’s Yoongi too but he’s a pianist and these days he’s so busy with lessons and trips to the orchestra, you barely see him.

Like stated, you were selectively social and right now, you were choosing to find Taehyung so you could formally talk to him. It took you about ten minutes of mindlessly walking through the courtyard to locate him and when you did, you came to a halt. He was just a few feet away now, cigarette between his lips, crouched down against the wall of some historic looking building with castle-like elements and you know he saw you coming when he turned his head and looked right at you.

That was the push that had you walking toward him and saying, “Kim Taehyung?”

“Yes?” He asked, looking you up and down, eyes unable to help themselves as he looked up from your legs to your face. You wore a black fitted turtleneck underneath a brown sweater vest tucked into a black skirt. You wore long 70s style brown boots and mesh tights too. Your hair was pinned back with a hair clip and pins and your ears were lined with simple yet pretty earrings. When his gaze finally met yours, he couldn’t help but take in the sight of you once more.

“My name is—“

“I know your name,” he said with a small glint in his eye, “Obviously.”

You didn’t pull away from his intense stare and watched him bring the cigarette back to his lips, “I thought it would be more appropriate to introduce myself.”

“Mm,” he exhaled looking down at the cement below his feet, flicking the end of the cigarette to let ash fall, “So what could I do for you, Y/n?”

He looked up once more and you bit your lip in thought, “If you are free, I wanted to see if you’d like to get a coffee with me.”

“I don’t like coffee,” he said, finally putting the thing out and standing up, “And it’s almost sunset.”

You blinked in surprise as he stood in front of you now but you didn’t back away, “Then we’ll just have dinner.”

“Thanks,” Taehyung swung his bag over his shoulder, “But I’m kind of busy, I’ve got somewhere to get to.”

He was already walking away to hide his look of surprise. He didn’t expect the two of you to ever really talk and he didn’t really know what to do. He ended up rejecting before he could even truly think it over. He imagined you as just a fantasy — nothing he could ever explore but that he could dream about. He just wanted to look and think about you but never know anything beyond what was on the surface—like a painting.

“And you can’t have a plus one?” You asked in your final effort to get closer to him completely unaware of what he thought of you. You watched him come to a stop, and for a moment you tried to imagine him contemplating. Taehyung turned to face you, “I’m not going anywhere fun.”

You stayed quiet as he went on, “And some might find it scary.”

It seemed like he was trying to warn you as if to let you back out of your own proposal but he wasn’t saying no and that was hopeful. You tilted your chin higher, “As long as you don’t plan on murdering me, I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

That made the corners of his lips turn upward in an arrogant smirk, “Okay, Y/n, follow me.”

The walk wasn’t too far from the college but the college was already a bit on the outskirts of the city. All you saw were green, dying hills as autumn threatened to take over and it took you a second to understand where he was taking you until he was leading the way down a steep hill toward an empty and cold graveyard. It was a straight line of jagged tombstones and overgrown plant life entwined around them. There were clear dirt paths leading down row after row of old graves and a few Angel statues but nothing too bad, at least that’s what you’re telling yourself.

“I told you, you might be scared,” Taehyung said as he walked parallel to the graveyard toward a tree that stood tall along the sloping hill, “But this is the best view of twilight, if you want, I could walk you back to campus.”

“No, it’s fine,” you cleared your throat deciding to walk ahead of him so you could be the one sitting upright against the tree. Taehyung dropped his backpack a few feet away from you and began getting his things out.

You didn’t question him, only observed the way he carried on like you weren’t even there. It’s not like you minded, you didn’t have any real agenda to get him to spend time with you and frankly, you felt a bit relieved to see that he wasn’t trying to figure out what you wanted. It was unspoken the way the two of you seemed to think similarly and brought out your tools.

Taehyung didn’t say anything when he flipped his sketchbook open and found a charcoal he could use as he began to sketch without much thought into it. He even made himself comfortable by lying back, using the angle of the hill to help him not lay horizontally and he bent a knee up as a sort of flat surface he could rest his book on. There was a small breeze that carried through his linen shirt and brown trousers but he wasn’t much worried about himself.

He was more worried about you, who had asked to spend time with him but had no real plan to do so. He’ll admit, when he said no it was just on reflex from all the other times he’s out right rejected others before but he only thought it over because he’s been curious of you two. When you told him you would join him for a moment he debated saying no again because this was his favorite place to be to watch the sunset but it wasn’t all that normal. He even tried to warn you and offer to take you back when you saw the graveyard but you didn’t even seem to care when you sat down. Now that he’s looking at you up close, he can see the way your brows furrowed in concentration as you scribbled in your journal, already feeling inspiration.

It’s now that Taehyung is realizing why he’s been so curious. He finds you beautiful, he’s sure he’s mentioned that before, but he finds you beautiful in an unsettling way. Just looking at you seemed to send him into a wave of emotion like you’re exactly what he’s wished to create on canvas. Before he even knew what he was doing, his hands were working away to make another sketch, eyes on you as he worked.

“What are you writing in that little journal of yours?” He found himself asking after some time. The sketch was rough and yet it was so refined that there was no mistaking what it could be. It was a monochromatic sketch of you with your back against the tree, legs straight before you and your hair covering your face with the howl of the wind. Your hands looked delicate when you wrote and you looked so lost in your own work that managed to capture that same essence in his drawing.

When you first looked at him, your eyes went down to the pack of cigarettes he was now messing with and out of curiosity he raised it to you as if asking if you wanted one. Moving to sit forward, you took one and held it between your lips as he dug into his pocket for his zippo lighter, flipping it open and bringing it toward your face to light the cigarette. He watched curiously as you leaned back a little, took an inhale/exhale, and said, “I’ll tell you if you show me what you’ve been doing in that little sketchbook of yours.”

For some reason a small smile came to his face as he laid on his side using his elbow for support and reached over to hand you the sketchbook. You took it with a sense of excitement that quickly turned into disbelief as you looked at it. The back of your index finger hovered over it but never touched for fear that you would smudge it or worse—ash, and when you finally handed it back to him, wordlessly, his cold fingers brushing against sending a warm current down your arm.

At this exchange, Taehyung moved to sit up, not bothering to brush off any loose grass blades off his linen shirt and read over a short passage.

A certain coolness in his gaze that made him appear cruel.

A charming aura that seemed timeless, not modern but ancient like he was created from every classic literature known to man.

His gaze, his smile, his voice—all deep like red velvet.

The list went on, each short sentence followed by another in what one could assume was meant to describe him. He didn’t say anything either as he handed it back to you the same way you had done with his sketchbook. Neither of you were looking for critique or praise, more so acknowledgement of what the other had been doing and once you had it, it was enough.

Taehyung stared forward as the line of bright Orange finally vanished from the sky and a cool blue clouded it. The atmosphere shifted now as darkness began to swim across the sky and you both knew it was time to go. Nothing was said as you both stood up with your things and even less was brought up on your walk back to campus.

It wasn’t until you stood at the bus stop that Taehyung decided to ask, “Are you busy tomorrow?”

“No.”

He pulled out a piece of paper from the pocket in his trousers followed by a pen as he scribbled something down before handing it to you, “Meet me here at 8:00pm.”

You didn’t have to say anything for Taehyung to know you would show and he left without much of a goodbye.

The place you arrived to at 8:00pm on the dot wasn’t exactly what you had in mind but it wasn’t much of a surprise either—it was a warm record bar. The one thing that did seem to surprise you was Taehyung’s choice in music where he preferred jazz over classical. The bar was dimly lit only by shaded, vintage lamps and the small yellow candles near all the booze. The walls were lined with vinyls and the deep mahogany trimming gave the record bar a sort of dark academic charm to it.

When you found Taehyung he was sitting at a small round table fit for two and he had a book in hand—The Picture of Dorian Gray. He wore his usual metal wiring rounded glasses and his dirty blonde hair seemed quite soft and full of life. The dark brown sweater he wore matched well with his tan slacks and you didn’t miss the way eyes would fall on him. It was this charming, educated college boy with a rich father sort of energy that radiates off him, but also the clear look of disinterest written all over his face and it made people curious.

You debated calling his name to let him know you were here but when he looked up in time to catch you walking his way, you were aware that he had been waiting for you and checking the door every couple seconds. Taehyung didn’t shy away from taking in the sight of you in an olive green maxi dress paired with a thin white cardigan tied together at the top of your breasts and below your collarbone. You wore black boot heels this time and when you sat down in front of him he couldn’t help but look at your face now.

“You’re late,” he said as he closed his book and set it to the side. You didn’t even bother to look at the Swiss watch on your wrist as you said, “It’s 8:00, like you said.”

“Yes but what I meant was 7:55 which should have translated to 7:45,” he said annoyingly arrogant as he slid a menu toward you, “As per the rules of a first date.”

His tone was serious as was his body language and yet you could see the hint of amusement in his attempt to hide a smile. You smiled softly, setting your bag down next to you, “I was unaware this was a first date.”

“So you assumed this was the second?” Taehyung had a teasing tone now, “I, personally, would not call an evening together at the cemetery a first date.”

“I do say, I’m a bit surprised to even know you consider this a date after we barely talked at all yesterday,” you said as a waitress came over with a customer service smile. Conversation floated between you two with ease.

“Are we ready to order?”

Taehyung looked at you but you weren’t all that hungry so he ordered a single slice of pastry for the two of you to share, “Yesterday was just to enjoy and accept the presence of one another, tonight is to communicate and learn.”

Taehyung never cared much for investing time into someone he was with, usually if he ever showed any interest in someone or was short lived. He’s not sure what would happen exactly but once the excitement of pining for someone romantically wore off… he just did not care anymore. There was too much to handle and he didn’t have time for any of it—not the clinginess, the crying, the whining. God, the whining got to him.

Why do you ignore me so much?

You’re always too busy painting to notice me?

Taehyung, I just want you to spend time with me.

It was the constant whining that he hated because they just did not get that he was completely devoted to his art and nothing else mattered as much as it did. Yes… maybe the small ounce of excitement he felt helped inspire him but… well he does not need whoever he slept with anymore.

The infatuation had worn off and he’s back to being alone again but now he’s a little too curious about you. Hence, why he asked you out first and in such a haste.

“Alright,” you said, “So then tell me something small, for instance, what time did you arrive? 7:45?”

“7:30 actually,” Taehyung said as he lifted his mug of hot tea to his lips, “I had business to take care of around campus and I didn’t want to make the trip back home.”

“Well if you asked for my number I would’ve arrived sooner.”

“It takes away the romantic aspect of waiting for the other to arrive without hearing from them—maybe I’ll write you a letter instead,” he teased. You just laughed softly and asked, “I didn’t peg you as much of a romantic. And what business?”

“Nothing too important.” Taehyung said vaguely and despite your curiosity you didn’t push him to answer. The corner of his lips raised as he looked at you, looked at him and found himself saying, “But as for being a romantic? It depends on who you ask.”

You focused on what he said about that instead of what his business was and that made him happy. What he did was not that important but it was necessary after what had happened with his advisor. He still couldn’t wrap his mind around what she had told him and in the end he made and impulsive decision to gift her something that might make her see things from his point of view. Of course it was slightly biased but he believed his piece really explained his views on beauty enough for her to understand.

Taehyung delivered two paintings to her inbox earlier. The first one was a more finished painting of you, still slightly distorted and a bit dark but there was no hiding the romantic element that radiated off of it. He called it ‘Genuine Beauty’. The second painting was a distorted and bright picture of his professor with exaggerated features that weren’t pleasing to the eye and he called it, ‘Beauty in the Eye of the Beholder’.

A true sentient on what he thought of her words. He wanted to know how she would twist the grotesque image of herself into something beautiful.

“What have you been up to aside from writing me?” Taehyung asked, looking at you with interest.

“Aside from that, I’m afraid not much else,” you confessed, “I’ve been in a sort of dry spell trying to understand my character.”

“Tell me about them.”

“Well, it’s a him and he’s similar to you.”

He listened closely to each word you said, taking in the curve of your mouth when you talked and the way you gestured with your hands. He’ll admit, the character did seem very similar to him so he can understand your curiosity in him and the fact that you seemed to lose yourself in your craft didn’t go unnoticed by him. He simply nodded his head and replied with short answers when asked.

In the end, he offered the only thing he could, “Let me be your case of study then, and in return you’ll be mine.”

You smiled this time, a small arrogant smile as you said, “Will you paint me like one of your French girls?”

He understood the reference and found himself saying, “If you write me like one of the lovers in your poems.”

By the end of the night you found yourself in the back of a taxi driving straight to his place under the pretense of another drink. Conversation seemed to flow with ease between you and it ranged from Davinci to Monet, Shakespeare to Milton and whatever was in between. Even when Taehyung asked such a heavy question, you didn’t seem to struggle to find an answer.

“Do you believe in love?” He had asked as the cab stopped in front of a house similar to an upstate New York townhome. He had you by the hand helping you out of the car and held onto you as he led you up the stone path.

“I have to, I’m a writer,” you told him and he seemed to pull you into him more.

“But what is it that you believe it to be?”

The question did make you think a little bit. It’s not that you thought Taehyung had an ulterior motive in asking you such a thing; it’s not like the two of you were seriously into the idea of it but you wanted to give him the right answer—one that truly described you and your ideals.

You didn’t answer his question right away as he let you into his home which was no different than what you imagined it to be. His apartment was in an old building turned into luxury Victorian styled apartments with modern eclectic touches. It was a put-together mess of sketches and canvases littered around the place. The floor was made of a dark, polished hardwood and his furniture all seemed worn through with velvet cushions and engraved wooden trimmings. He had floor-to-ceiling bay windows with twine hanging across them and papers clipped on with laundry pins to dry. There was a warm feel to the place and it had everything to do with his dedication to earthy tones and shades of Morocco red.

There were painting supplies everywhere from scattered charcoals and cans of linseed oil for his paints. There were stacks of literature books and various art ones piled high on nearly every surface and yet it all seemed to be organized to what you could assume only he could understand. Taehyung didn’t even seem to mind the clutter as he chose instead to ask, “Red or White?”

“Red.” You responded quite simply before resuming your studying of his place, the fireplace on one wall was surrounded by canvases and books—same as the vintage bookshelf and for a moment you wondered if his bedroom looked any similar. The thought vanished quickly when you got the smallest hint of which room that might be from the open door down the hall. He had plain gray sheets on an unmade bed and the furniture in there was scarce, like he barely spent any time there and if he did it wasn’t to sleep—the bags under his eyes told you so.

“Have you thought of an answer to my question yet?” Taehyung asked, reminding you yet again of what he asked earlier. He handed you a wine glass and you took it with a nod in gratitude as he left you to find a record to play.

“I’ve had an answer all along, I just wasn’t sure how you would feel about it,” you said and you could see him smile as he moved the needle over the start of the vinyl, Nocturnes, Op 9 began to play.

“I’m not looking for anything in particular, just an insight on what you think,” he said honestly and with a small sigh you decided to tell him.

“I think love is more so… a choice than an emotion?” You finally said as you watched him take a seat on the floor near his coffee table instead of the velvet couch behind him. He motioned for you to join him, “How so?”

“Anyone can feel love at any given moment but it is fleeting,” you sat down, knees nearly touching his, “Tell me, have you ever felt in love before?”

Your question seemed to catch him off guard yet he answered as bluntly as he would regarding anything else, “Only with my paintings.”

“And that had been a choice, to continue, right?” You asked, “Love like every emotion is temporary and inconsistent. Yes, doing certain things or being with certain people might invoke these feelings but once that has dwindled it is your choice to remain in that constant state of loving something—or someone. I love writing, I always have because it is my choice. I choose to subject myself to the hardships that come with my work even at times where I think I hate it. Even at times when I choose to give up I think about the joy it brings me, the emotions that pour out of me and onto every letter and word I put down on paper. I choose to love writing, I choose to devote myself to it and I choose to put it above anything else in the world, even my own relationships.”

Taehyung could see it in your eyes how strongly you felt about it. Your answer had gone slightly off topic but he understood your reference to it in every word you spew, “So when I say I believe in love… I don’t mean it in regards to a feeling that transpires throughout inconsistently, but I mean it as a choice to continue to feel that way even when it hurts and I can’t take it any more.”

A silence seemed to drag on between you and for a moment you wondered if you said too much and sounded too stupid. Taehyung seemed to inhale and exhale at once, “Well, I do say, we have very similar ideals. I don’t think I could’ve put it into better words than a writer even if I tried.”

You couldn’t help but smile, hiding it behind your wine glass, “Maybe you’ll paint them instead.”

“Maybe, I’ll paint you instead,” Taehyung said with a pale yet serene expression like he was scared to speak his words and exhilarated by them all the same.

How could someone seem to get lost and sound so dazed when talking about writing? Did writing mean as much to you as his art did to him? Is that why there was never a need for many words to be spoken between you? Was that why he was able to enjoy your presence so long and so quickly when before you would never even speak? Was there always this underlying connection between your minds and how you viewed art and your world?

You rested your glass on the table as you took in his living room again and all its character, there was a set of paintbrushes just laying on his table and you reached for one. The wood was smooth between your fingertips as you twisted it before looking up at him with a curious gaze, “With one of these?”

Taehyung simply nodded his head watching you lift your skirt up just enough to expose a bit of leg and you brushed the art tool against your calf, “It’s soft.”

His tongue ran over his lips and he leaned forward to gently take the brush back. You were nearing an apology for taking it without asking him first but he simply scooted closer to you on the blanket he laid beneath you and placed your legs over his, skirt of your dress rising even further until he was running the brush over the curve of your knee, “I use it to blend shadows, like this.”

The brush felt soft against your skin, sending tingles down your spine as he ran it over you in circular motions, eyes on yours.

“I tried painting once,” you said as his finger slowly traded with the brush until he was softly touching you, “I wasn’t that good, I couldn’t portray the right picture.”

Taehyung just smiled as he felt you hand go over his while taking the brush back until you were tracing the curve of his wrist, “Paint with your words, and show me you’d write me, like your character.”

“He is very similar to you,” you said, “In almost every aspect and I didn’t realize that until today.”

“Mm,” Taehyung hummed in content when you lifted the brush toward the collar of his unbuttoned shirt, teasing him without realizing it. You seemed to use the brush against him without much thought of what you were doing and how it affected him. You should know, though, that the feel of his art tool against his skin would feel good to him. The soft bristles tickled his collarbone, “How would he make love?”

That seemed to catch you by surprise as you slowed your touch to look up at him. He just bit his lip, hand on your leg caressing it as he waited for your response. Without missing a beat, you said, “Slowly, starting with a sweet kiss.”

A small smirk came to his face, one that only he could pull off without looking cocky. He looked smart and pretty with his glasses and blonde hair, when he spoke he made it sound poetic and when he looked at you it felt like he was focused on whatever was beneath the surface. You watched him push his glasses up the slope of his nose and before you knew it, he was leaning closer, lithe fingers coming up to touch your chin and tilt your jaw.

Although you knew what was coming, there was no denying the small second of hesitation that coursed through you when his lips so tenderly pressed against yours, his voice low as he asked, “Like this?”

You licked your lips despite the extremely small space between yours and his and without the ounce of hesitation from earlier, your hand came up to his neck where you pulled him into you for a real kiss. It started off slowly just like the two of you knew it would but there was no denying the desire that laced throughout it. At first all that happened was your mouths moving against each other, getting used to the idea of kissing — something neither of you have done in a while. Then, it became more feverish. If possible, you seemed to move closer with your hand on his thigh to support yourself. You were on your knees leaning into him and he had a single hand against the floor to support his sitting position while the other was cupping your chin for the best angle. There was a growing intensity between your mouths, lips moving more forcefully now, saliva gradually increasing when you felt his tongue make a swiping motion against your lips.

“Or like this?” His voice had become more hoarse with need. He enjoyed feeling the way your body seemed to lean toward his and he seemed to ask, “What would he do next?”

“It’s not what he would do next,” you said as you moved without your own violation and trailed your lips along the curve of his jaw, “But what would happen to him next.”

Taehyung’s head seemed to tip back as he used both of his hands to keep him upright while you moved between his patted legs to kiss down his neck. He licked at his lips, slowly blinking at the first feel of your tongue licking his ear lobe before you sucked it into your mouth making a tingle run down his spine. Your warm breath tickling his ear made his breath bitch and it didn’t take you long to realize that you had found his weak spot. Unable to help yourself you brought your mouth back to his for a kiss that was much needier than any of the ones prior.

“Y/n,” Taehyung’s throat was dry and it made his voice raspier than usual, “Touch me more.”

The words surprised you. You didn’t take him for much of a womanizer but you didn’t think he would seem this touch starved. The last person you had slept with had been your dear friend, Namjoon, and when you realized feelings were beg bring to get involved you were to end the rendezvous that had transpired between you two in an effort to save the friendship and his feelings. You couldn’t explain why you could never see him as more than a friend—and you couldn’t explain why it was so easy to view Taehyung as something more. Your mind had been drawn to him before your body and yet it all felt the same.

You began to crawl away from him and in an effort to keep this going, he went after you with another kiss before your hand touched his chest to keep him in place. It got to the point where Taehyung wasn’t sure if it was the cashmere brown sweater he wore that made his body heat up, or if it was being too close to the fireplace but he felt himself begin to break into a sweat.

He stretched his legs out before him when he got the hint of what you wanted to do watching you shimmy down until you were nearly eye level with his pants and the evident bulge becoming more prominent with each passing second. Taehyung was not ashamed of how quickly you seemed to get to him and his body’s reaction to you. Sex was a normal thing, it was poetic and passionate if done with the right person and he hasn’t done it in a while—a long while. It was completely normal for him to release a light gasp when your hand grazed his inner thigh just inching toward his growing erection.

The two of you made eye contact once more, his lip caught between his teeth and his eyelids low in a lustful gaze that matched your own. There was a strong attraction toward each other — infatuation if you will — and you can’t say there’s romantic feelings between you but there’s no denying that there has been the underlying sexual tension that rose from a clear understanding of each other’s devotion to your work. It turns you on to know he seems to connect with your ideals.

You didn’t even realize Taehyung had moved a hand behind you until he was pulling on the back of your head to drag you back into a needy kiss. Your hands had already gone toward his slacks and you had been unzipping the front as the two of you made out once more. Taehyung’s hand fell back to the ground with a groan as you yanked at his underwear making him lift his hips enough for them to come down with his pants. A small hissing sound left his lips as his hard dick finally made its appearance, springing free of its right confines, hard enough to already angle toward his navel.

Taehyung was not ashamed by the way his stomach caved in with a deep breath at the first feel of your hand wrapping around his tip spreading the beads of precum that had already dribbled out the slit. His tongue was in your mouth, sliding against yours with you swallowing each groan he let out when you began to stroke his length slowly from base to tip. Like earlier, when you tried pulling away from the kiss to catch your breath, he was following after you to stop you from breaking apart from him.

A thin line of drool connected your mouth to his as you finally pulled back, biting down on your lip. He watched you look down at his exposed member, leaning down until you were face to face with it. His long fingers curled around your hair, slowly pushing your head down just a middle until he felt the first tender lick of your tongue along his tip. Taehyung’s entire body reacted to the way you tentatively licked his head teasingly making a small shudder travel right through him.

You have to say, Taehyung has one of the prettiest dicks you’ve ever seen and you just couldn’t help but want to savor it. It was just so pretty and you found yourself wanting to play with it some more. Your hand held onto him at his base as you ran your tongue down the side of his length lathering it in drool to aid your closed fist.

His brows scrunched together as he attempted to watch what you were doing. He could feel your hand jerking him off as you teasingly kissed up his side and tip, tongue swirling around his slit that leaked precum. He just couldn’t see you over the bulk of his sweater.

With an annoyed huffed, he released your hair to pull at his sweater with one arm as he brought it up toward his chest and tucked it under his jaw. Just as he had it fixed, a low and deep sound vibrating in his chest feeling your lips finally surround his tip, sucking gently before relaxing and taking more of him inside. You made yourself relax so you could loosen your jaw enough to accommodate his length as you began to suck him off, tongue licking along the bottom side everytime you bobbed your head up and down.

You had a firm hand on his upper thigh as the other was at his base against his pelvic bone to hold his hips down and let your mouth do all the work. His sweater slipped from under his chin making him groan as he threw his head back, “So good.”

He kept his gaze on the ceiling taking in the feel of your warm and tight mouth taking his cock so deeply. You looked up at his stomach trying to see his face but with the way his head was tilted back, you just couldn’t. All you could see was his chest rise and lower with each breathy sigh he let out, ducking his cock deeper down your throat.

Unable to help yourself, you moved your hand to his navel, feeling his breathing better and he needed to see what you looked like with his dick in your mouth.

He held the end of his sweater between his teeth as he stared down the expanse of his torso to where you laid between his legs swallowing around his cock with a dark look in your eyes that had him muffling a moan.

His hips bucked helplessly into you making you swallow more and more of his length till you couldn’t breathe properly anymore and needed to get off. The hand you still had on his dick began to stroke him, wrist flicking on each upward stroke to make your palm run along his slit while you caught your breath. You watched him in complete awe, he was so hard and his balls tightened against that you couldn’t help but lick between them.

"Fuck," the sweater made it hard to hear him as hw sank his teeth into it feeling it begin to moisten annoyingly so bur he was not going to miss the sight of you kissing below his cock to his balls.

When you finally decided to take him back in your mouth there was no slow build up, it was quick and sudden as you took him down your throat to the point where you gagged around him. The way he bit into the sweater looked like a restraint and he looked so pretty with the fire reflecting off his tan, bare chest and his blonde hair was just a knotted mess from how often he shook it.

“Y/n, you feel so good,” You were never much of a talker during sex, especially if it wasn’t genuine and just superficial dirty talk but he sounded so good moaning your name even if you couldn’t hear him properly.

There wasn’t much warning aside from the incessant moaning that fell from his lips and was swallowed in cashmere for you to know he was close. His hips bucked messily into your mouth, cock twitching with the need to just let go and when you met your mouth with your fist jerking off the rest of him… he just couldn’t take anymore.

Taehyung’s head fell back with a dry moan as the urge to cum got the best of him and he let go in your mouth. You didn’t seem to mind either, once the surprise of the suddenness had worn off, you didn’t hesitate but to try and swallow as much of the thick semen as you could, not at all bothered by the taste of it. Taehyung had to let his sweater go to breathe heavily through his parted lips as he used his elbows to sit himself up in the blanket, trying to understand what had just happened.

“Mm,” you hummed, proud of yourself for making him cum down your throat and you sat up to look at him. Taehyung met your eyes with his feeling heavy with need as he licked his dry lips before forcing himself to sit up properly so he could drag you into a deep kiss. You released a light mewl in surprise, kissing him back eagerly with his hand below your ear on your neck guiding you to angle your head one way while he went the other.

There was not a single part of him that felt bothered at the taste of himself on your tongue, if anything it only made him want you more so he could repay you for treating him so well. Once you had gotten lost in your little makeout, it was easy for you to follow his lead as he moved over you to get you to lie down in his place. The only time he pulled away from you was to finally free himself from the confines of his stupid sweaters and kick off his pants the rest of the way. It didn’t take you long to get what he wanted and you hurried to remove your cardigan feeling the straps of your dress begin to slip off your shoulders. Taehyung dragged you to him, kissing along the exposed skin of your collarbone and shoulder, hands sliding down your back till they could inch the dress down and off of you, making you take it off through the bottom so he wouldn’t have to pull away again.

Your bra and underwear were made of a thin crème colored lace that looked pretty against your complexion and soft between his fingertips as he ran his hands over your covered breasts that had been taunting him all night.

A quiet gasp left your lips due to the way his lips kissed down the valley of your breaths, soft hair tickling your neck. Taehyung’s hands held onto your sides, sliding them up to the end of your bra, feeling you arch your back into his affections until he was able to move them under your to grab at the clasp. Once he was able to unhook it, he tugged it off your arms letting you throw it to the side and dragged him into another kiss when he cupped your bare tits in his warm hands, using his thumbs to rub over your hardening nipples.

“Taehyung,” you whined softly against him, eyes on the ceiling when he began to leave love bites along your neck, traveling his wet mouth lower and lower down your stomach.

“Hm,” he hummed in acknowledgement, making his way between your legs while his hands groped your chest loving the softness of your skin under his rough painter’s hands.

As Taehyung slipped further between your legs till his face was near your spread legs, he looked down. The lace underwear was transparent enough for him to see just a bit underneath and he could see a small shadow of slick over where your cunt should be. He tried to look up at you through his blonde fringe and you sat forward enough to brush it back, smiling as he pressed a teasing kiss against the hood of your clit over your underwear. You lied back down letting yourself relax feeling his fingers hook under the hem of your panties till he was tugging it off and move your thighs over his shoulders so he four fit snugly against you.

Taehyung didn’t waste time teasing you, he had already been so turned on that not even cumming down your throat was able to calm his raging hormones. He just wanted to have you as soon as he could, any way he could, and that meant with his tongue stiffening as he parted your folds around him before licking flatly toward your clit. A light moan left your lips as your clit immediately reacted to stimulation, a small gush of slick pushing out of your pussy with arousal. Taehyung was not inexperienced in the art of making someone cum undone on his to hue and that was becoming more and more evident with the way he made out with your cunt like it was your mouth.

“Oh my god,” you threw your head back, out of breath, as his tongue began to flick messily at your clit while hands slid further down your inner thighs until he was using his thumbs to pull your folds apart for him. You could feel your wetness begin to drip further down but he was quick to leave your clit and lap his tongue against your wet entrance where your arousal seemed to form a puddle at. With the way his thumbs kept you open, you felt everything.

Every now and then his thumb would teasingly push in just a little more than before, acting like he didn’t even notice he was doing it while he hungrily sucked on your clit, tugging it between his lips. His thumb was rubbing against your labia, pressing into it, teasing your entrance every now and then by pushing into it until he felt your legs begin to tremble around him. Unable to help himself, he got a big more rough, tonguing your clit with such effort that his head shook with eagerness, swallowing your slick and pressing his face into your cunt to taste all that you had to offer.

“Oh,” you breathed out shakily, hand sinking into his hair when he nosed at your clit, tongue joining his finger as he thrusted it into you, “I-I, oh god.”

“Mhm,” Taehyung nodded, urging you to let go of him and you had to bite your lip to keep from moaning. Your thighs tried shutting but his head didn’t let you and instead you pressed them against him making him groan with need, eyes nearly rolling as he doubled his efforts.

Your throat became dry as you planted heavily, hips bucking against his mouth until finally you felt the knot in your stomach come undone. His motions did not miss a beat in licking everything you had to offer as your orgasm came in a wave.

“S-so, good,” you breathed out tiredly feeling your pussy walls clenching around nothing and as much as you wanted to just be done, you needed him inside you. When he came up to kiss you, you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him flush against you so his hard cock rutted against your wet pussy. The taste of each other on your tongues was what made it easy for you two to want to keep going without the thought of repercussions. His hand slid between your sweaty bodies to hold his cock, lining it up with your entrance, bumping into your clue as he refused to break away from the kiss.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him close as the two of you looked at each other with such need, such want that your lips didn’t spend too long apart from each other.

Your tongue met his just as his cock met the inside of your pussy, taking it slowly as he stroked himself with your slick to ease himself in better. His dick was rock hard, and your pussy was so fucking wet he couldn’t help but moan into your mouth as you took him in.

Taehyung has to hold onto you with a hand on your waist to keep you from sliding away from him too much as the blanket wrinkles on his wooden floor. He had his other tucked by the side of your head looking down at you lovingly as he finally began to thrust, “Tell me if it’s too much, love.”

“Mhm,” you said softly, legs falling apart even more to accommodate his as he dug his knees into the floor so he use his hips to fuck you better. A groan left his lips at the expert roll of your pelvis against his taking more and more of his length inside your tight walls.

“You make me feel so full,” you moaned gently into his ear as he dropped his head down against your neck to try and ignore the fact that your pussy around his dick without any protective layer between them felt so fucking good. You were already so close and he’s barely started. He fucked you slowly but firmly, getting himself used to being inside you and sucking on your neck, his hand left your hip to cup your breast once more and you gasped when he pinched your nipple.

“So tight,” Taehyung breathed out heavily with a single touch thrust that had your walls tightening around him, “So good for me.”

He did it again, and once again drew another moan out of you, repeating his thrusts more roughly than before until you were moaning out a string of his name.

Taehyung was well endowed and you never doubted that for even a second. He knew how to have sex, not just to fuck, but to have sex. It wasn’t just loud groans and rough thrusts. He was sensual, he kissed your neck, whispered sweet words of praise in your ear, touch your body as he fucked you almost passionately—unlike the usual guys you hook up with.

“It’s like you were made for me,” Taehyung groaned, brows scrunched together in concentration as he pulled back to sit and swing your right leg over him to press against your left until you were nearly lying on your side. He laid down next to you, curving his body against yours and lifting your leg back and held it up with his knee as he fucked you from the side. His lips were against your ear, whispering, “Just for me, like my own creation.”

“Mhm,” you hummed, “Just for you, please Taehyung, I’m so close.”

You looked straight out of a vintage erotica film. His apartment was warm due to the fireplace and comforting because of the classical music playing. The moon looked over you as you had sex, nearly love making, lying on your sides with his body cuddled into yours, fucking you with his cock while groping your breasts in his hands. You had to angle your head back and then your neck to kiss him and he swallowed your mouth with his, thrusts getting tougher as he curled around you, “Me too, love, all for you.”

“So paint me,” you moaned, fucking back against him.

For a moment he wondered if you meant on a canvas, or with his cock in your pussy, but he realized he would gladly do both if you let him. Your hand slid back to guide his hips into yours, “Cum, Taehyung, inside me, please.”

“Oh god,” a low growl left his lips as he dug his face into your hair, “Fuck, Y/n, d-don’t tempt me.”

“Do it,” your hand came up to his hair now, dragging his head toward yours until your lips met in a messy kiss, “I’m going to cum, Tae, please.”

It wasn’t a good idea. You were on the pill but he didn’t know that, all he knew was that he wasn’t wearing a condom and he wanted to fill you with so much cum that he painted you white.

“Mhm,” he moaned when you tugged on his bottom lip between your teeth and his hand pinched your hips, “Cum, Y/n, please—oh fuck.”

The only thing that came from you two was the sound of skin slapping as the urge to cum overtook you both and you were fucking like rabbits in heat. Nothing but animalistic grunts left him as he finally felt the flood of release you let go around with him with a whine of his name and before he knew it, he was cumming.

You immediately felt full with his release as it joined yours, cock pulsing inside you as he waited a moment to reel his emotions back in, sweaty forehead pressed against yours, “So good.” He hugged you closely, breathing heavily into your neck, softly kissing your skin affectionately.

It took you both some time to regain awareness of what had just happened and you lied on the fur blanket he had tossed on the floor. The fire sizzled behind you and some classical song [you were ashamed to admit you didn’t know] was playing. Taehyung seemed to be more in control of himself now and reached up to his small table in search of his pack. Once he had a cigarette between his lips, he lay back down next to you to catch his breath, pressing it to yours next.

There was a sort of glow to your skin, your eyes shined with the night sky reflecting through the windows. Light came from the fire not far behind and a small dim lamp in the corner yet the moon was still casted over you two.

His eyes traced your features once more and before he knew it, he was saying something unexpected, “She was the most beautiful person he had ever seen.”

Despite the way your heart seemed to stop, your brows furrowed, “What?”

Taehyung took another drag of his cigarette, “Who wrote that? ‘She was the most beautiful person he had ever seen’ I read it somewhere… ‘With stars in her eyes’.”

Your eyes seemed to widen as you thought it over for a second. A sense of realization flooded you but even knowing you might be right, you still shyly asked, “Virgina Woolf?”

“Yes, I believe so, ‘She was the most beautiful person he had ever seen, with stars in her eyes and veils in her hair.’ I read it years ago,” Taehyung stared out at the moon through the bay windows, “Anyways, it just came to mind, and reminded me of you.”

There was a cloud of smoke drifting into nothing like they were his words being absorbed all around you. After that a silence seemed to fill the room and it was so calming in fact that you found yourself lulled to sleep against his chest.

It wasn’t until hours later when you had woken to loud noises, did you realize that he had not had the luxury of peaceful post-sex sleep.

The first thing you had noticed in your haze of sleep was the sky still blue out and the fire still crackling behind you. The second was that you still slept on the floor and Taehyung was not beside you anymore. It took you some time to realize all the noise that had woken you up was coming from him and his quick brush strokes.

Taehyung had a pair of jeans on and a smock. He didn’t even bother with a shirt, just slipped the smock over his bare chest and he sat on the floor with a pallet full of paint in his hands as he did soft strokes on his canvas. He was so focused that he didn’t seem to mind his glasses which had slipped down to the tip of his nose, lips slightly parted in concentration and eyes bouncing around his painting.

You wondered what this meant for you. You didn’t know what time it was but the way he worked so diligently didn’t even make you want to stay, what if it would bother him? You don’t want to do that and he seems to have already forgotten you were there and what you had just done. With a small sigh you looked around for all of your things, finishing getting dressed and in search of your shoes and bag.

Taehyung’s strokes were fast and agile, he didn’t even have to think of how he was painting, he was just moving mindlessly and mixing all the right colors and blending in all the right places. You took a seat on the sofa trying to put your boots back on.

“What are you doing?” Taehyung asked but his eyes never left the canvas. You could barely hear him over the sound of the record player still playing and it took you a second to know he was even talking to you.

You looked up curiously, “Um… it’s late, I should probably go, I don’t want to disturb your work.”

You were very understanding actually. There are many times you’ve woken up in the middle of the night to write and you didn’t waste time on thinking of anything else while doing it so if Taehyung was the same about his painting then you didn’t want to bother him.

Taehyung pushed his glasses up with the tip of his brush as he finally looked at you, “You won’t disturb me. Stay.”

He watched as you brought your lower lip between your teeth in thought before saying, “Seriously Tae, I don’t mind leaving. You’re working, I understand.”

“But I mind,” Taehyung said in his deep voice that sounded even deeper this late with the fire in the fireplace still crackling and Beethoven’s String Quartet No. 14 playing in the background. You didn’t say anything for a moment and he ran a hand through his messy hair, a small paint streak coating a strand, “Won’t you stay, Y/n? I’ve been in a slump and right now it just hit me all at once and I think it’s because of you. Please, won’t you stay?”

“Can I watch?”

Taehyung did not hesitate to nod his head and motion for you to sit on the floor next to him so you moved quickly to do so.

By the end of the night you watched him paint until dawn with your head resting against his back adoringly. His brush strokes were hypnotizing and the way he captured the light perfectly had you in awe, especially when you realized it was a painting of you.

It inspired you the way he was so devoted to his work and it reminded you of yourself.

Your days carried on as usual after that night with Taehyung. The only differences being ones that involved him. For instance, he has called you a couple times —he’s completely against the act of texting. It’s never anything major, usually to ask how your day has been or to get coffee. There was no sign of an actual relationship but it was close to it.

Today you had your shared anatomy class and he sat next to you instead of behind you like he normally would.

You’re not very fond of the fact that he’s distracting you more than you would like him to but it’s something you can’t explain. Your pen scribbled away in your yellow page notebook with word after word just piecing together effortlessly. Taehyung was utterly fascinated by it all, sometimes you wouldn’t even look down but your pen seemed to never fully lift off the page. You filled page after page in the three hour class, eyes on the professor but nothing you wrote down had to do with what he was teaching.

Every now and then you would look over at him and your eyes would meet, he would raise a brow and you would give him a smile, before looking down to write.

“I don’t think you heard a single thing he said today,” Taehyung said once the two of you made your way out of the lecture hall side by side. From the way you stared off into space, lips moving every now and then as if mouthing silent words, he knew you weren’t listening. He doubts you meant to ignore him but clearly you seemed to be in your own world right now, just thinking about writing and writing and he gets it.

You weren’t thinking of anything else, and he knows this because he had to grab onto your waist and pull you back to keep you from walking right into the pouring rain just outside. You seemed to snap back into reality and looked around, “Did you say something?”

Taehyung was opening his umbrella for you, pulling you under it beside him, “I’ve written notes for you, you seemed a bit distracted to take them yourself today.”

Your eyes slowly widened in surprise as it finally dawned on you that you had spent the last three hours doing nothing but writing about him. You came to a sudden stop and he waited there beside you with the rain pounding on his umbrella. With a small sigh, he let go of you to rummage through his bag with his free hand and took out his notebook, “I wrote two of everything.”

“Taehyung,” you said, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” he said with a shrug, “But you were so lost in your writing I didn’t want anything disturbing you. I had no problem with it, I’m a fast writer and a good listener.”

“Thank you,” you finally began to walk again now that you couldn’t bear the cold standing in one place, “I am bad at focusing on anything else when I write.”

“I understand,” he had to speak up so you could hear him over the rain, “And if you do not think I would be a bother, maybe you’ll let me watch you write more?”

“You’ll get bored,” you said as the two of you walked toward his car, a vintage Chevrolet Corvette that belonged to his grandfather.

“Watching you?” He asked, holding the door open for you, “Never.”

Your apartment was how he pictured it—books and papers scattered everywhere. You were still much neater than him but not by much, clearly the two of you focused too much on your craft that it’s completely taken over everything.

Your place was small yet spacious and well furnished with vintage chairs and mahogany bookshelves. There was a slight clutter of books upon books and dead plants that didn’t get enough sun with the curtains closed. It was warm and had your lovely scent. There was a stack of papers on a desk next to a laptop and an expensive looking typewriter.

There wasn’t much of a conversation going on between you, the last time you said something to him was when you asked him if he needed a drink. Your back was to him and he spent about an hour or so sitting alone on the daybed as he drew in his sketchbook.

After some time when you finally decided to join him, you were exhausted and physically drained. You lied down with your head on his lap looking up at him when his hand began to caress your cheek. “Taehyung.”

“Yes, my love?” He asked with his gaze meeting yours. The name just slipped and he didn’t care to take it back, only watched you curiously still waiting to hear what you would say. You blinked once, “I think I’m beginning to understand better.”

You had been writing nonstop for a long time but for the first time it felt like you finally understood your work.

There was no way to explain it but these interactions with Taehyung—your living reverie—have opened your eyes to his character and the way you wanted to write him in the first place. He was everything you had been searching for.

He leaned back, startled by the sudden way you sat up, hand around his looking at him, “You.”

“Me?” Taehyung asked with his hands on your waist, shifting you more on his lap, “You understand me?”

All it took was one nod of your head for him to be pulling you into a kiss meeting you halfway. He had a hand on your chin, angling your head opposite of his letting the kiss deepen, soon he was tracing the curve of your neck with his jaw. Every ounce of lust and greed poured out in his fingers when he touched you.

It didn’t take Jungkook long to realize something about his friend seemed different. He was used to Taehyung isolating himself when he had a wave of creativity. There would be days on end where Jungkook would call only for every call to be ignored. He would even write his friend letters but he never answered him. When he was back to normal, Taehyung would look tired like he hadn't eaten or slept in days.

Right now, Jungkook sees Taehyung but he doesn’t think Taehyung sees him. Despite sitting across from him, he wouldn’t look his way. Instead he was staring out the large windows that overlooked the courtyard

“Have you eaten?” Jungkook asked, looking up from his sketchbook. The two had been on the second floor of the library this evening studying classical art techniques. Jungkook had gotten bored and began to sketch up an idea for another sculpture while Taehyung drew someone he couldn’t recognize. His friend didn’t even so much as flinch and give any sign that he was listening.

A small scoff left his lips, “Taehyung.” With an annoyed huff, he reached for his sketchbook and watched with a confused expression, “Who is this?”

It was quite detailed despite how little time he had to draw this and Jungkook was in awe. For a second he wondered if this was original work from Taehyung, all created from his mind but as he followed Taehyung’s gaze out the window, he realized it wasn’t.

It was you.

You sat on a wooden bench facing the swan fountain and there was a book in your hands. Jungkook couldn’t make out the book but seemed to have all your attention because you stopped every now and then to highlight something then jot it down in a notebook. There were powder blue headphones on your head and you were in a red lace long sleeve top with roses embroidered on and under was a white shirt. The black skirt you wore reached below your knees with a slit on the side that exposed your boots and over it all, you had on a black coat. He’ll admit, you did look rather captivating against the dead green of the lawn and trees paired with the foggy sky from days on end of rain.

Taehyung seemed to have found his newest muse and it was all he could think about.

“Are you still interested in her?” Jungkook finally asked, catching the way a small smile seemed to fall on Taehyung’s face—something he rarely got to see despite how easily he gave them to you. Jungkook did recognize you in the drawing better once he got a good look at you. He had almost forgotten seeing you weeks ago when he was with Taehyung, but he had certainly forgotten his friend’s knowledge and curiosity of you.

“Only a little,” Taehyung said, ignoring the way Jungkook looked at him with disbelief. He was used to his friend having a sudden infatuation with a certain person but they were short lived and always ended with the poor girl crying about how cold he was—Jungkook knows because he was always there to pick up their broken pieces with a night in his bed [Taehyung never cared].

“She’s hot,” Jungkook said, half teasingly to read how his friend would feel. Taehyung merely gave him a side glance in acknowledgment but the smile he had for you had tightened as he looked back outside.

“It’s that guy again,” Jungkook pointed out as they both watched outside, “What’s his name?”

Kim Namjoon.

Taehyung was used to seeing him around throughout the years but he never had a need to pay attention to him before. Like most of those who he sees in passing they never become more than that—just a passing blur that he doesn’t care to know a single thing about. Namjoon used to be one of the ones he ignored until he heard you mention him once or twice.

“Who knows,” Taehyung said, shifting his gaze down to his sketch pad avoiding the sight of Namjoon and you now standing like you had somewhere to go.

Jungkook, the ever curious and procrastinating, kept watching you just out of sheer boredom. The library had gone dark aside from the few kerosene lamps scattered across tables but it was already getting hard to see his sketches properly so now he’s just waiting for Taehyung to finish.

Suddenly, all too suddenly that it made him jump in his seat, Taehyung was standing, shoving his things in his bag loud enough to create an echo in the cold library. Jungkook looked up at him, pencil laying limp in his hand now, “Are we done?”

Taehyung pushed his chair into the wooden table, not bothering to look back at his friend as he stormed off, “Yes.”

Not long after he watched his friend make his abrupt leave from the library… he saw him now approaching you and Namjoon.

You were blissfully unaware that you had been watching through the windows of a library as much as you were unaware of Taehyung coming up behind you as Namjoon talked. “I was thinking maybe we could go catch that new movie that just came out.”

“Oh, I was going to do some writing—You won’t believe it Joonie,” your tone changed so suddenly as you grabbed him by the arm, jerking him toward you excitedly carrying on like he hadn’t said anything, “It’s like I can’t stop writing, you wouldn’t believe how easily the words are flowing like… I don’t know, I’ve never felt this way before, Joonie.”

“That’s good, Y/n but,” Namjoon’s words slowed down as he looked behind you at the looming figure standing a few feet away. He’s never spoken a word to Kim Taehyung despite both being grad students, he only knows of him from what others have spoken and he’s very… cold. Since when did you and him begin to talk? Namjoon took your hands in his as he pulled you closer to have your attention knowing you still didn’t know who was behind you, “But it’s nice to get a break, you don’t want to overwork yourself.”

“You don’t get it, Namjoon,” you said his name instead of the affectionate nickname you’ve always called him, he couldn’t help but look at Taehyung who pretended like he wasn’t watching closely with a cigarette dangling between his fingers, “I can’t stop. I cannot stop. If I-I do, I don’t know.”

His gaze shifted behind you making you turn to look too and your eyes seemed to soften as you made eye contact with the dirty blonde you’ve been spending time with lately.

“Y/n,” Taehyung’s deep voice spoke as he stared at you two, “I thought you would be busy writing”

“I’m on my way to right now,” you said, taking a step toward him with your back to your friend, “Would you join me?”

A smile came to his face as he pushed his glasses up, “If I could paint you again.”

You stood still in thought. The first time he painted you was after you had sex for the first time when it felt warm, passionate and hungry. He never slept that night, he stayed up the entire time getting the right blends of pigment on your body as it lay on the flue blanket completely nude. You’re not sure if he knew what saying that would make you think but from the way his brow raised questioning made you think he did.

Namjoon felt his jaw clench, eyes glaring at Taehyung who didn’t even bat an eye in his direction. You looked back to Namjoon now who waited for you with a bated breath. You walked up to him making his heart face as you pressed your lips against his cheek with your softly brushing against his jaw. The kiss was tender on his face and when he looked down at you, you gave him an apologetic smile, “Will you call me?”

“Will you answer?” Namjoon asked but you weren’t beside him anymore. You were next to Taehyung who took your book bag off your shoulders and put it over his, a hand grazing your back as he talked to you but too far out of your friend’s ear shot.

“What did your friend want?” Taehyung asked.

“To see a movie but I have to finish what I’m writing before it slips my mind,” You said moving your hand to his bent arm walking alongside him, “I’ll have to catch up with him another day.”

He didn’t have anything to say to that but you could still feel his eyes on you. A part of you wanted to ignore his gaze because you find yourself at a loss for words any time he looks at you that way. It’s like he sees through you not at you and sometimes you don’t know which one is better.

There’s no denying that he likes the look of you, he finds you attractive and not just physically. You know that. You just can’t tell what he’s thinking that makes him look at you that way.

“Namjoon.”

He stood alone where you once had been beside him, just watching you leave with the art major he had no idea you were even involved with. Since when did you begin to talk to him and how did Namjoon never notice? Did you just decide that you would not be open with him anymore?

“Jimin,” Namjoon looked at his friend, a bit stunned, “Hey.”

The ballerina watched after you alongside him now as he asked, “Y/n is leaving with Taehyung?”

“Are they together?” Namjoon asked suddenly, “Did you know?”

Jimin shook his head no, “Not exactly, I mean, Y/n never hid the fact that she had a thing for Taehyung, I’m just surprised to see them leave together. Y/n never told me they began to talk.”

Namjoon bit his lip nervously, “You don’t think they’ll date or anything, do you? This just seems sudden.”

He looked to his friend for some comfort but all Jimin did was shrug his shoulders and say, “I don’t know, you know Y/n doesn’t really date and neither does he, they’re always too focused on writing or painting to think about anything else. Who knows, they might just work out because of how similar they are.”

“Yeah but…” Namjoon was trying to find words to say but nothing came to mind. Maybe he was just being bitter… he’s been your friend for years. He’s always been there for you anytime you needed him without question. You were attracted to him enough to sleep with him but was that all it was ever going to be? You won’t see him as more than just a friend but then Kim Taehyung comes along and suddenly you have no problem walking away from Namjoon to go with him?

Jimin looked at his friend apologetically, he sympathized with him. He’s known you for longer than Namjoon has and he’s been through this exact same thing before too. There was a time when he thought you and him were the closest until Namjoon came along and suddenly you spent all your time with him instead. Now Namjoon is experiencing what Jimin did but this time because of Taehyung and he feels bad for that.

“Look, I’m going to be honest,” Jimin tried to work out what he was going to say so it didn’t come off badly, “I think, Y/n loves the idea of Taehyung on paper… how she can write or create him like she’s done with you and I in the past. I think maybe it’s nothing past something superficial but at the same time…”

“At the same time,” Jimin repeated himself with a bated breath, “I see a lot of similarities between them especially when it comes to putting their work first and maybe that’s something they seem to understand about each other that we don’t.”

Namjoon didn’t get it.

So was it not that you two had feelings for each other?

Was it not that you might love each other?

Was it just that you two understood each other?

He doesn’t get it. Now, Namjoon might not understand your obsession with perfecting every aspect of your writing… but that didn’t mean he didn’t love you. He loved you a lot—more than he assumes Taehyung could love you.

It’s not like it’s a secret, Namjoon has always been open about the way he felt about you so why did you choose someone else? All because he couldn’t understand you the way Taehyung might? Is it because he can’t just look at you and know what you need the way Taehyung can?

Is it because he doesn’t spend hours missing sleep or eating just so he could obsess over his work too?

How could Taehyung possibly understand you more than he does?

::.

okokok this was kinda long but I’m sorry, blonde Taehyung as an art major was doing it for me 🫶this was a romance but also not necessarily bc the focus isn’t entirely on their relationship 🤒neither one of them are supposed to be super likable so if you hate them and the way oc did Joon and Jimin dirty i get it 🫡but they just genuinely do not think about anything but their craft.

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[cottonlemonade]

How You Met

word count: 1098 || avg. reading time: 5 mins.

pairing: post-time skip!Hinata x chubby!Reader

genre: angst with comfort, happy ending

warnings: spoilers

It was still hot outside even though it was nearing midnight and Hinata’s eyes began to sting. The temperatures rarely dropped below anything considered perfect summer weather in Japan. Last year when he realized it wouldn’t snow during wintertime he found it new and exciting. This year, the prospect only filled him with dread.

For the most part, he really enjoyed Brazil. He had found a new love in beach volleyball, got along pretty well with the people around him and… and that was about it. It wasn’t unusual for him to feel lonely when he had time to think about something other than training on his delivery runs - or when he was alone in his apartment and happened to glance too long at his lock screen showing his friends grinning widely into the camera.

But tonight felt different. The last delivery he had just dropped off was for a married couple, the husband being Japanese. As he opened the door to receive his food, his eyes lit up and after noticing Hinata’s accented Portuguese when he asked for the money, he had switched over to his native language with a hopeful glint in his eyes. And that was all it took. That short exchange had cracked the dam inside of Hinata that had been filling up since his arrival a little over 18 months ago. He reached a park, scarcely bigger than the gym back home, that, from the looks of it, seemed to be mostly deserted. Through the sparse amount of trees with their lusciously green canopy, he spotted the hustle and bustle of a restaurant. Warm, inviting lights, laughter, music - people having a good time. And as usual, he was on the outside looking in. He slowed and eventually got off his delivery bike. Maybe he shouldn’t be riding it when his vision started to blur. A few drops fell onto the pebbly pathway from an earlier short November shower.

Not bothering to wipe away the water from the bench he plopped down and took a deep breath. He had trouble doing so in the swampy humid air. He leaned forward, staring at the ground. Another wave of laughter carried over from the restaurant. He slung his arms around his chest, his head was almost between his knees now and he coughed a little when he felt a lump in his throat. He began to mutter to himself in Japanese. “Why am I here? What was I thinking? I miss everyone so much. I wanna go home! I -“

“Hey, are you okay?”

Hinata quickly turned his head away, closing his eyes to keep calm.

The voice seemed to belong to a young woman. You stood a couple of meters away, a plastic bag from a convenience store in one, a popsicle in the other hand.

Just wishing you would leave him alone, he nodded but couldn’t stop a small sniffle.

“Yeah, you see, I don’t believe that.”, you said in a kindly teasing sort of way. He only realized now that you spoke Japanese.

You added, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”, he said to his shoes, worried you might think less of him when you saw the big heavy tears now rolling down his face and onto the clenched fists on his knees.

Your shadow, formed by a streetlamp behind you, nodded thoughtfully, then held the popsicle between your lips while rummaging in your bag for something.

Pebbles crunching under your shoes, you came closer and a moment later placed a pack of tissues and a small bottle of strawberry milk next to him, taking a couple of steps back again.

He looked up.

“Of course, I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m sure everything will seem a little better tomorrow.”

Your smile was genuine and sweet. A slight accent told him you weren't a native speaker but the only thing he could really make out in the faint light was your curvy silhouette.

When he didn’t say anything you went on, “It’ll be okay. Maybe you should get some sleep.”

After a short unsure pause you walked away. He watched you go. His eyes fell onto the gifts next to him and he let out a small thankful whimper, using his shoulder to wipe away the tears that threatened to fall again. Hinata cleared his throat and, gingerly at first, grabbed the milk and tissues to put in his pocket for later.

The following morning he woke up tangled in his bedsheets and quieted the blaring alarm on his phone. He yawned, rubbed his eyes, and as he stared at the ceiling of his small apartment the previous night came back to him. A short twinge of embarrassment rose in his chest. It wasn’t that he had never cried in public but just because he had done so before didn’t mean he was immune to the feeling of shame that followed.

He rolled over and spotted the now-empty bottle of strawberry milk sitting on the low table in his cramped room. What would be the chances of seeing you again? At the very least he wanted to thank you for your kindness. But he was also so desperate for a friend, especially one he could speak Japanese with. And so, deciding he would drive by the little park again tonight, he crawled out of bed and got started on his day.

Six days later and still no luck. It was pretty absurd to hope to find one person again in a city as huge as Rio de Janeiro, especially after only seeing them through a veil of tears in the weakened light of a park lantern, but if Hinata was good at anything it was never giving up.

The first week passed. Then the second.

At this point, he had to squeeze the pack of tissues in his pocket to make sure he didn’t just imagine the whole exchange.

Then two nights later, as he hurried up the steps to an apartment building he felt his determination slipping a little. What if he had already passed you on the street and didn’t recognize you? You might stay that kind stranger forever. He rang the bell of this latest delivery and absently drummed his fingers on his thighs as he waited for the door to open.

���Boa n- oh! Hey you!”

Hinata’s eyes widened. He recognized the voice. Oh, he definitely didn’t expect you to be this pretty. A smile, wider than any he had felt in months, spread across his face. Finally. He found you.

a/n: is it very obvious yet that I love the trope of meeting your s/o when one of you is having a really bad day?

[allkindfangirl]

reader getting mad with rafe about the whole melting the cross thing bcus shes also friends with pope and breaking up with him and trying to make her jealous with sofia? (i love angst sm idk why)

pairing: rafe cameron x reader warnings: season 3 spoiler (kinda?), mention of alcohol, toxic behavior

You couldn't believe his words when Rafe told you about melting down the cross. You knew he was impulsive but you never thought he would do something so thoughtless. Devil and angel were already fighting inside of you, with him always working against your friends, but this was the last straw. He had thought it was a good idea, he thought once again he had done the right thing without really thinking about what he did.

He tried to understand you when you yelled at him about how the cross was important for Pope, that it meant something to his family but he didn't really care. It was this side of him that was ruthless and didn't care about people around him.

Though you were happy that he was clean now, his ruthlessness, the selfishness got even worse. He felt a new kind of power since his father couldn't dictate him anymore.

"I'm done with this shit Rafe." You were standing across from him on the veranda of Tanney hill.

"Shit? Our relationship?" He scoffed, tried to not let the anger well up in his body. He was pacing around in front of you, a grin on his lips. "Y/n, grow the fuck up. You can't keep running around with your friends, chasing stupid little adventures. This is real life." He was looking down at you, a feeling you hated.

"No Rafe.", you said through gritted teeth. "You need to grow up. This isn't real life. Stealing from people isn't real life. Just doing whatever you think is the best, isn't real life."

You didn't feel safe in his presence, even though he was standing meters away from you and even though you knew he would never actually hurt you. But still, his mood changes were unpredictable.

His hands run over his buzzed head, as he took a step towards you. He was looking at you with crazy eyes, sweat forming on his chest under the white shirt and on his forehead.

"Maybe then we're just not meant to be together if we're so different, y/n."

Though you felt your heart sinking with his words you tried to stiffen up. You shrug your shoulders. "I should've broken up with you a long time ago."

You flinched when he was suddenly standing right in front of you, his face almost touching yours, him raising his finger at you. "No, no.", he grinned. "You're not breaking up with me. I am breaking up with you.", he whispered, but still it send shivers down your back. You knew he was close to losing it completely.

"Whatever.", were your last words and you felt your body relax as soon as you left his house.

-

The next couple of weeks you did everything you could to not cross his ways. He didn't reach out to you and you didn't reach out to him. You figured this time it was really over. Though you tried to ignore him, it took you quite some time to not miss him everyday. You didn't think you would ever get over him, though you knew it was for the best. The two of you had been opposites from the beginning. You had been blind to see that you couldn't change him.

Toppers party was the first time you went out again. Since Sarah was hanging out with him again, she had asked you to come with her. You really didn't wanted to go. Too afraid to see Rafe again. Still, you could really use a drink and you were done with sitting in your room alone all night every night.

The music was blasting through the house, people drinking, smoking and doing coke everywhere. You always hated this side of Rafes friends and that he was a part of this.

Still, tonight you tried to forget all of it, the drink in your hand helping.

"Y/n.", you heard Topper behind you. You said your hello, then taking a couple of shots with him and Sarah in the big, crowded kitchen.

And then he walked in, wearing a lose shirt and shorts. He grinned as he saw his friends, then saw you standing beside Sarah and his smile disappeared for a second. The eye contact was heated. It felt like he was looking right inside your soul and for a moment it felt like your were the only ones in the room.

And then there she was. It took a second to realize that she was here with him. She slung his arm around his torso, smiling up at him, then greeting everyone in the group.

Rafe was still looking at you, a light smirk on his lips. Then he leaned down to her, to peck her lips with a kiss.

He wanted to hurt you and he knew this was the best way to do it. You had been the one he loved, he really thought and always hoped you would understand him. It turned out you didn't. He felt betrayed by you leaving him.

It worked. You hadn't felt a pain like this before. You knew Rafe had been with girls before you, but you never really wanted to think about him with someone else. The thought of him kissing another girl, giving his all to someone else just crushed you. His lips- they were supposed to be on yours, his body was suppose to do things to your body, not someone else's.

You grabbed Sarahs hand, then turned to her. "I- uhm- I should go.", you said, stumbling.

"Don't. We can just go outside. Please, don't let him ruin your night."

You gave her a light smile but shook your head. "No, it's fine really. I just want to go home.", you said. Then said a quick goodbye and rushed out of the kitchen, too afraid to burst out in tears in front of everyone.

As soon as you stepped outside the house you felt tears of anger running down your face. You knew, you had been the one who left him - still, you didn't think he would just move on and get with another girl like you didn't mean anything to him.

"You're already leaving?"

You froze, not able to move when you heard his voice behind you and his footsteps coming closer to you.

His touch on your hip send you over the edge. Tears on your face, your lips parted and your back still facing him.

"Don't touch me.", you whispered, but he didn't care. He just scoffed. You were still not able to move when he shove his hand up your shirt, feeling your warm skin on his skin. He pulled you close to his chest, his lips near your ear.

"I didn't think I would have such an effect on you."

You closed your eyes while trying to calm yourself down, but nothing could make the butterflies in your stomach go away. He had an effect on you. His touch always made you weak and he knew that. He knew exactly what he was doing to you.

His grip on your hip tightened and with one push he swirled you around, so you would finally look at him.

He had a light grin on his lips. He knew he had you under his spell. His hand came up to your face to wipe away the tears on your cheek.

"Don't cry because of me.", he pointed out. Not to make you feel better but to show you what he did to you, that you were the weak one.

You melted under his touch. One of his hands was still laying on your cheek, the other one already back on your bare hip.

"You're mine.", you whispered but didn't dare looking him in the eyes. It tore you apart, showing him so much weakness, but the thought of him giving himself to somebody else just drove you crazy.

"Say it again. I didn't hear you." Rafes hand ran down your cheek to touch your chin. He made you look up to him, to look him in the eyes.

"Say it.", he whispered. His eyes were staring at your lips, waiting for those words, that just drove him wild, to escape from your lips.

"You're mine."

- really don't know if this is how you wanted it to go but I just got carried away. xx hope you still like it.

requests are open!

my masterlist

[000marie198]

Beats till the song disappears

......

Classic era, Sonic 2's bad ending timeline but I made it better. Or worse. Leaving for you to decide. Enjoy :)

...........

He trudged through the dark zone, silent and windless akin to a closed, lifeless chamber.

The place was littered with systematically arranged crystal blocks that would've looked aesthetically pleasing if it were daytime. For now, they just made the place more eerie as he waited for Robotnik to show up.

After what felt like an eternity of worried pacing to the speedy hedgehog but in reality was barely a couple of minutes, two of the structures nearby split apart, revealing a camouflaged panel sliding in the ground.

Sonic stopped, facing the opening to see the Eggmobile rise from the underground, hovering a meter or so above the inclined floor leading into the depth.

The doctor looked composed, unworried, his spectacles glinting with a previously absent touch of confidence, of victory.

"Did you bring them?" He asked, addressing the frustrated hedgehog.

Sonic revealed four emeralds without a word, pulling them away as the other tried to grab for them.

"Tails?"

"Hand them over first."

Sonic was about to retaliate but paused at seeing the other hover a finger over the mobile's control panel, staring straight at him with the unspoken threat clear in his body language. He could kill the kit if Sonic wasn't careful.

His thoughts conflicting with one another and the concern for his little brother chiming in, he finally relented, holding out the gems for the mobile's claws to grab.

"Now tell me where he is."

"Careful, hedgehog, you don't get to make demands here. I believe we had an agreement that he'll be spared only if you brought all five Chaos Emeralds, hmm?"

Silence fell over the terrain, the hero shooting a venomous glare at Robotnik. It would be too much of a gamble to attack him when he had a link open to wherever he was keeping Tails. His lack of acknowledgement to the earlier question was answer enough. He hadn't been able to collect the required number of emeralds on time.

"I see," the scientist murmured.

Sonic gritted his teeth, high strung, on edge. He was aware he had failed but he needed to know...

"Just tell me if my brother is alright."

"He is," the other sighed in an exaggerated display of disappointment, "I would've gotten rid of him by now provided your ineptitude-"

"You know I can't locate them all this fast!" Sonic snarled, looking seconds away from jumping at his throat.

"But I am feeling rather... merciful today," the man continued on without even reacting to the interruption, his demeanor betraying he held all the cards. "I propose another deal, hedgehog. If you agree, I promise that no harm will come to Tails."

Sonic shouldn't trust him. Didn't trust him. But if it meant Tails would be safe...

He nodded, signalling to Robotnik that he was listening. Said scientist smirked under his mustache.

"Become part of my legion. Surrender yourself to me, and your little friend will go unharmed."

His legion. The hero had fought against him enough times, had seen enough horrors and rescued enough critters being used as test subjects to read between the lines, to know what Robotnik meant. The mere mention of that thing still makes him sick. Robotnik wasn't asking him to just give up his freedom. He was demanding for Sonic to give up his mind and body, his free will, in the worst way possible.

Sonic's life or Tails' safety?

It took him less than a second to choose.

"Well?" Robotnik's voice prompted, already knowing his nemesis' decision.

"If you hurt Tails-"

"Oh don't be so leery. I gave you my word. Your fox friend will not be harmed. Now, do we have a deal or do I signal my bots to neutralize that menace?"

Sonic squeezed his eyes shut, shaking with a plethora of emotions he couldn't bring himself to grasp and process as they came and went in waves. He gasped in a breath and stilled, before coiled tension leaked away from his body and he sighed. Surrendered.

"Deal."

"Excellent!" He could hear the victorious grin in Robotnik's voice but he didn't react, unable to bring himself to look up, gaze fixed on his red and white sneakers as he willingly sealed his fate. His iconic shoes held his focus, shoes that allowed him his freedom to run as fast as his heart desired. The same freedom which he was now volunterily giving up for his brother.

It felt like just yesterday when he had met the little guy, his shoes very smilar to Sonic's own, a matching color scheme. Something he had never paid attention to before but was now a glaring memory. He hadn't even told Tails how much he cared for him, how much proud he was, had he?

If he were to be given a chance to speak with Tails, he'd never remain silent again.

His feet moved without his consent, following the rotound man into the underground base until he blinked out of his thoughts and found himelf in a lab, facing a tall glass cylinder strung up in the center of the circular space.

It stood empty, it's front open, waiting to be occupied. Sonic stared on, unable to look away.

"Now don't be shy, step into the capsule. Chop chop!"

A hair's breath pause and he stepped forward, inside the glass confinement and upon the platform inside, fully resigning himself to what he had agreed on. His breath shuddered with anguish and dread as Robotnik moved around it to the front and pressed a switch.

The glass sealed behind him with a decisive click.

Adrenaline shot through his veins as the machine hummed to life, lights glowing awake below the platform he stood on and the welded hatch above him.

His heartbeat began to thunder in his ears, quills pricking up but he held still, letting the titanium clamps reaching for him seal around his ankles and wrists.

He saw Robotnik clicking away at a nearby screen and then he felt a subtle jerk, the machine's hum increasing in volume and intensity, the platform under him rising up.

With one final click at the keyboard, sleek contraptions that looked suspiciously like a sci-fi mixture of scanner and blaster surrounded him and pulsing rays shot out from their openings.

Sonic grunted as he felt the energy strike him, the clamps keeping him still.

2%

It started from below, at the legs. Of course it fucking did. Sonic wanted to scream, wanted to yell and kick and bang his fists against the glass, feeling cold numbness slowly spreading up his most powerful weapons, his legs, his speed, stripped from him painstakingly slowly as flesh turned to metal.

All he did was clench his fists and grit his teeth in anguish, his whole being screaming at him to move but he held still. He couldn't move, not if it placed his first friend, his best friend, at risk.

28%

The titanium bands securing his ankles and wrists seemed to tighten, restricting the little bit of movement he had as the rays slowly climbed up to his torso, inches below his heart.

He didn't let the tears show.

For Tails for Tails for Tails for Tails

His thoughts chanted like a mantra, placing all his being into not moving, letting himself be turned into a machine, until his ears swivelled at the swoosh of a panelled door sliding open, urging him to look up.

His breath caught in his throat, each cell freezing up in a mixture of shock, rage and despair.

No. No no no no no no no no NO!

"TAILS!" The anguished wail left his chest just as his heart stopped beating, an engine's hum replacing its frantic rhythm.

He payed it no mind. It didn't matter when it was ripped to shreds anyway the moment his blurry gaze met his brother's.

Glowing red optics stared back.

He tried to move, tried to break free but it made no difference, half his body frozen on the spot, under the control of the Chaos forsaken monster who did this.

65%

The bands on his wrists burned, something warm and damp flowed down his palms and dripped from his fingers. Sonic was numb to it, struggling and shaking in the glass confine, his own screams becoming muffled to his ears.

"You promised! YOU FUCKING PROMISED YOU WOULDN'T HURT HIM!"

A screen beeped, the vitals' charts on it going haywire as the progress bar reached 78%.

The mustached scientist just stood there grinning, unconcerned and victorious.

"And I kept my promise. He is unharmed, well and alive." The words seemed to echo in his head, reverberating as if imprinting on the walls of his mind, the machine's buzz and hum drowned out by them. "Just as you asked, rodent."

He couldn't take his pained eyes off of the small yellow robot and his captor noticed that, turning to address Tails with a deceptively encouraging smile.

"Isn't that right, Metal Tails?"

The little robot finally moved, startled beeps escaping it as it's mechanical gaze shifted away from hyperfocusing on Sonic and towards what it's systems told it to be it's creator.

The familiar innocence in that small gesture, even though seeing it on a roboticized mecha, broke something in Sonic.

He tried to call out to his brother but realized he couldn't speak. He couldn't feel his muzzle or mouth anymore. Oh...

The screen read 96%.

As the metal climbed up his quills and ears and the world began to fade into static, Sonic drowned out Eggman's smug grin and droning of the roboticizer's rays, putting all that was left of his mind and strenght into focusing on Tails.

He wanted his last memory to be of his brother, even if no longer flesh and blood but mere metal and wires, he was still Tails. His Tails. That much was clear from its demeanor alone, the innocence, the curiosity, the intelligence, it was all there. Sonic would be able to tell his kid apart from a thousand other Tailses if he had to.

The tears he'd been holding back finally slipped down, the last piece of his humanity used into conveying to Tails that he was sorry, that he loved him.

99%

His eyes closed, the metal covered up the last of the organic cells and Sonic finally went still.

............

Metal Tails gazed upon the powering down capsule, his processors showing the progress bar having reached 100%.

He couldn't take his focus off of the inactive hedgehog; organic, mechanical, irrelevant, Metal Tails was drawn to him even before the roboticization was completed.

Something suspiciously illogical was recorded in his archives during the process. He had sensed what organics refer to as emotions being conveyed to him earlier by the same being. It seemed to be a combination of concern, remorse and affection.

How could he do that without any working signal and communication link to Metal Tails?

The roboticized hedgehog suddenly beeped awake, internal fans whirring as his systems rapid-fire processed the new programming and commands. He jerked within the bonds and stilled again, hanging limp for a long beat.

Metal Sonic lifted his head up, optical processors switching on to reveal glowing red optics staring straight into Metal Tails' own.

It appeared the other robot was finally awake.

Metal Tails couldn't calculate why the organic hedgehog had seemed to know about him but he had felt drawn to the blue being just the same.

Perhaps it was a satisfactory calculation on his creator's part as Metal Tails' tended to get lonely and this arrangement made him most pleased.

Another robot companion made for the perfect promised gift.

.................

No characters were killed in the making of this story, just as I promised :]

[chebyreksan]

Aaaalright

Feel like you fic(showtime)

——————-

Muffled voices

Girl wrapped under a blanket

Panic and horror both in the eyes and thoughts

That's all that happened in her room. She just lay curled up in a ball and pulled the blanket up to her head, as if it would help get out of this world. She heard knocks on the door, but did not answer. She didn't react.

- come on, ragat. Let's just leave her there. She's not going to die-Jax is clearly already bored, judging by his voice

- Don't say that. We have to help her, otherwise she will..she will be lonely-Ragatha said softly to Jax, knocking on the door - Pomni, please open the door for us.We want to talk to you

Pomni didn't answer

- ..listen, we know how hard and scary it is for you-

- We? I'm just here for the company

There was a sharp exhalation. It seems Ragatha elbowed him in the stomach

- okay, I understand your fear, Pomni, but we have to stick together and support each other. We're one family now..do you understand?

- Yes, let's go crazy together!-Jex chuckled

Pomni shrank even more, already ignoring the guys completely

,,what should I do?..I-I'm really going crazy here..Am I really going to end up here like this? Like kaufmo..Like the others..?’’

She was snuffling softly and wiping away her tears. What should she do now? How can she live in an incomprehensible space, where there is a crazy ai jaw and from where it is impossible to get out? She didn't know that, no matter how much she wanted to, but she didn't know the answer to any of the questions. But it can't last that long, right?

- WAKE UP, POMNI DEAR !

- Eh?!

A beep sounded sharply right above her and she covered her ears

- C-Caine? I-I closed the door

- Oh dear, I have my own ways of sneaking around unnoticed

Caine giggled and loomed over her

- can you come out? I have a surprise!

- I don't want to..

- Oh, don't be such a child, Pomni . Your friends are worried about you

- …

- Jokes are jokes, but the surprise is on schedule!

girl was wiping her eyes from tears, still lying under the blanket

- Caine, I... I can't. Please let me be alone and think it over..

- Well, no! You want to miss my surprise and such a good day so pointlessly? Come on, let's get up!

He put his hands under the blanket and took her under the armpits

- eh?! G-go away, go away!

Caine took her and lifted her over the bed, holding her like some kind of toy or animal. Jester tried to get out, squirm, but she was held tightly. And what should she do when she was lifted a couple of meters from the bed?

- let me go! I-I'll get up, just let me-

The girl looked at Caine and her eyes widened

- ...Caine?

- Surprise! Hah it's me! What do you think about my new look? Do you like it?

Caine laughed and Pomni's eyes grew even bigger with surprise. She thought she was imagining it, but Caine now looked like a human. Red hair with white tips, eyes were in their place and the same color, blue and green. Ringmaster put her down on the bed and pointed at her with his cane

- Our friends checked out my new look, and Kinger actually fainted from fear. Well, there was a lot of noise and you missed everything, dear! Oh.. and your eyes are red

- I-it's nothing -girl quickly wiped her eyes - why you..like this? Why do you look like a human?

- That's a good question, my dear. My processors have deduced that it will be more comfortable for you and others if I look like a person than my real appearance. Plus I want to understand who it is to be completely human! Bubble!

He took off his hat. Bubble came out and there was a piece of paper with some kind of graph on his tongue, but it was hindered by the fact that it was covered with saliva. Pomni grimaced

- that's all we've deduced

- ugh..okay, I get it..It's not usual, but I like it.

She smiled awkwardly, hoping that Caine would be pleased. Bubble burst

- with many thanks! Now that you don't look like a baby, we can have a game

- Wait, wait, I'm not-

But he did not listen and took Pomni by the shoulder. They found themselves on the stage, where everyone had already gathered. Jester looked around awkwardly and noticed how Jax was looking at the two of them and smiling slyly, whispering something to Ragatha. She just raised her eyebrows, but didn't say anything

- So my little stars, today we will hold a game-the words appeared above the ringmaster- a bloodhound!! You will have to search through different corners of the circus for colorful eggs with surprises!

- Heh what, have you lost your own and are you forcing us to look for it?- Jax chuckled

- Jax - Ragatha whispered with displeasure

- hah! Naughty boy!

A second later, a cane flew into Jax and hit him on the head, causing the rabbit to fall

- AH!! F[censorship]K!!

- Inappropriate jokes in our circus are also inappropriate, as well as obscene language, my young friend!

cane returned to the owner and he continued

- Collect as many eggs as you can, the winner will receive an amaaazing prize, but this is a surprise! Those who will be in second and third place will also receive a prize! Goooood luck!!

The entertainer disappeared and guys got baskets in their hands. Everyone dispersed who went where and while girl was walking, she was thinking about a new kind of Caine, collecting eggs

,,..want to understand who it is to be completely human..how strange, he's just a Ai, how will he understand who it is to be a human? Maybe he's lying?..mgh it's better not to think about it much..’’

Time flew by unnoticed. The melody of the end of the game was heard and guys began to wait for the host. he appeared immediately, twirling the cane in his hand

- Well done, little stars! Now I will do the counting and we will find out the winner. whom to start hmmm..and why think about it!

Guys watched as Caine pulled the eggs out of the baskets with his strength. His eyes began to blink with different colors until they became normal

- huh that’s interesting, Jax is in the first place!

- Heh, I thought so- rabbit chuckled smugly and Pomni rolled her eyes

- Kinger!

- HUH?!

- You're in second place!

- Oh.. thank you-Kinger breathed a sigh of relief

- aaaand pomni on the third! The rest of you I’m sorry and go clean the eggs!

- What? Go F[censorship]k yourself, clean with these eggs yourself-Zooble says discontentedly-we are not obliged to do this

- Mmmm no,you have to. Bubble!

Caine clapped and the bubble grabbed zooble, dragging them somewhere else

- Let me go, F[censorship]R!! Don't you dare!

- gangle and Ragatha, follow your friend, and the three of you follow me!

Winners obediently followed Caine. They didn't talk much, and what could they talk about. Pomni understood that Kinger would not say anything reasonable, and Jax would mock and infuriate. It made her feel strange, especially when nothing but footsteps could be heard. The entertainer whistled and a large wooden box painted like a horse, with the animal's head attached in front, drove up to them

- Everything is outrageously simple. Jax, you can tell the box what you want and the box will give it to you. Kinger, I'll get you myself and Pomni-

- Ha, she won't get anything?

- hey - girl said with displeasure

Caine sighed with displeasure too and continued

- I will give something not from the box. Let's get started!

Jax confidently approached, whispered something to the box and it spat out the box. Rabbit happily took out a pair of millipedes from the box, which began to crawl on his arm. Pomni and Kinger swallowed, not understanding why he was wanting this and how he was holding them so calmly. It was Kinger's turn and Caine reached into the drawer and pulled out the checkers

- oho thank you-Kinger happily walked away

Pomni's turn came and Caine patted the horse box. Horse box obediently went to its place and jester watched him leave

- wow..

- well, dear, I think I've come up with a prize for you. Not a wish box, but not bad either. This-

Abruptly, he glitched, his eyes lit up red and just as quickly returned to normal. Girl involuntarily moved away, and Jax and Kinger looked at the ringmaster with bewilderment. Caine himself blinked and laughed nervously

- ahem, I'm sorry, your prize is-

He started glitch again, the sigh of the cross appeared in his eyes

- err.. Jax?? Kinger?- pomni looked at the boys with hope for an explanation

- Don't get your hopes up.This is the first time I've seen this..

- Ah! Is Caine ill?! What should we do?!-screamed Kinger

Caine blinked again, rubbing his temples with his fingers

- it's all right, friends. Kham..your prize is-..Ah well, here it is!

He quickly gave Pomni a box of something in her hands and walked away from her a little

- um..thanks?

- Hey Caine, you're a lot weirder than usual. Is something wrong?-Jax looked at the entertainer with interest, tapping his chin with his finger

- I'm fine, thanks! Apparently the memory card is lagging a bit huh!

He began to glitch again, turning away from the rabbit and the king. Jester, since she was standing closer to Caine, saw that his face was flushed, and his eyes were blinking red and blue. Looking at the guys, she saw that Jax was giggling strangely and came over to look at Caine, and Kinger just looked and was perplexed. Rabbit, meeting with her gaze, shook his head, making it clear that he would not help in this. Girl sighed and cautiously approached the entertainer closer

- C-caine? Are you sick? Hey?

She shook him by the shoulder, hoping that he would come to his senses and, surprisingly, it helped. He quickly pulled away from them and cleared his throat, straightening his bow tie

- uh-sorry, friends. Go to the others, I have to sort something out!

A sharp wave and he quickly retreated, leaving the trio

- ..what was that just now?- girl asked awkwardly, looking at the guys

- Mm, I don't know, apparently the roof is going slowly..- rabbit chuckled thoughtfully

- Ah! -the Kinger shouted - is the roof coming?! Where?!

- In any case, Pomni , you're wearing Caine, and I'll help ladies with Kinger.

- Wh-what?! Why me?

- I don't know. Maybe it's a sign? -he involuntarily pointed to his eyes and smiled more

Pomni wanted to object, but realized that it was pointless and muttered

- Very funny. Where should I look for him at all?

- Not my problem. Come on, Kinger, let’s go

- what do you mean?! Hey! We were here together!

- I just suggested it. You don't have to look for him- Jax shrugged

The couple left. She was looking around in confusion, trying to figure out what to do.

- how am I supposed to find him anyway? I don't want to open all the doors again and get f[censorship]ked..ugh! Stupid censorship!

,,..what happened to him? Can he really become the same as kaufmo?..’’

Pomni became worried, remembering something that she and others met on the first day. She shook her head

,,no, nonsense. that's not going to happen..he won't be like that..isn't that right?..’’

[imsorryithurts]

Whumperless Whump Day 1

@whumperless-whump-event

Hello, friends! This is my first entry for the Whumperless Whump Event. I don't have much experience with formatting text on tumblr, so I hope it'll be legible. I am also not an experienced writer, I just wrote down what comes to my mind! If anything is too out of place feel free to tell me (nicely!).

This is set up in my "generic space adventure" setting, if you want a primer on the characters, you can read it here: [link]

Thanks to Seth for setting this up, and without further ado, here's my story.

-x-

Emergency First Aid:

Self-done stitches / Alcohol as sanitizer / “It's just a scratch, I've had worse.

Content warnings: Falling from heights, bruises, lacerations, and stitches.

-x-

“I’m fine, I promise.” Matt took a deep breath, doing his best to keep his voice steady. “It's just a scratch. I’ve been worse.”

It wasn't exactly a lie. He was fine. He has had worse.

He had to admit, though, calling it a scratch was quite the understatement.

“I swear to fucking god, Matt,” Rex’s voice rang distantly through the comm. “If we get there and your leg is missing, I'm ripping out the other one myself!”

“We’ve got your coordinates already,” Roye’s voice came through the speaker much clearer, without much background noise. Matt had to laugh at the possibility that Rex wrestled the comm out of Roye's hand just to threaten him. “We're trying to figure out how to get to you, just don't move, right?”

Matt could tell by his tone that he was serious. Roye was using his “captain voice”. He would be here in seconds, if he could.

“Matt, do you hear me?”

“Yeah,” he picked up his comm with his uninjured arm. “Yeah, I hear you.” He hoped to god this sluggishness wasn't from blood loss.

“Call back if anything happens. We're coming.” There was the noise of a finished call.

Matt sighed and slumped back against the sandy rock formation he was sitting against. The same kind of rock that crumbled under his feet at the mount above, sending him rolling god knows how many meters away. He only didn't curse it because it was providing some much needed support at the moment, and he didn't want to risk losing it because he offended it.

He gathered up some motivation to take stock of his situation again. He took his cracked mask off. The team always made fun of him for wearing the O2 mask even in breathable planets, but it very likely saved him from a broken nose and a couple of mouthfuls of dirt. He set it aside along with his comm, breathing in the fresh, even if slightly too humid air.

He was sore all over, but that's to be expected. His left knee hurt particularly badly, along with his foot that was caught in a root on the way down. Nothing was at a weird angle and he could move his toes inside his boot, so probably nothing was broken. He couldn't tell what was going on with the foot, it hurt way too much to bend his knee in order to remove the boot, and even if he could reach it, the swelling had already settled in, making it hard to remove it on his own. So he settled for leaving the leg outstretched for now, to be given attention once he was back in the ship.

The “scratch”, on the other hand, needed attention now immediately.

Somewhere along the way his right forearm had snagged on something, that something ripping a gash almost from his wrist to his elbow. He had spent the last couple of minutes pushing against it with his jacket to stop the bleeding while trying to relate his situation to the rest of the team. Now that nobody was listening, he allowed himself to groan loudly as he peeled the fabric away from the wound.

Like he said, he’s had worse. Still, it was not pretty. He was lucky enough that the edges weren't too ragged, but it was still long and deep. It had stopped pouring out blood and now it oozed lazily, red filling the entirety of it like a lake.

Matt pressed his jacket against it again, pushing against the sides, trying to mop up some of the blood.

Not pretty might not be a good enough description. Squeezing some of the blood out of it exposed the angry edges around a pit of bright red muscle, lumps of nauseatingly yellow fat tissue clumped around it. 

He poured half of the water from his canteen over it. Blood loss or infection was going to kill him before dehydration anyways. He fished the first aid kit from his backpack, working as fast as he could, if he hesitated, the pain would take over his brain and he’d be scared to do anything so as to not aggravate it.

He held his breath and poured as much antiseptic as he could over his arm. Even if he had been trying to be quiet, he wouldn't have been able to hold back the scream he let out as the liquid touched his exposed flesh, white hot searing pain burning all the way to his bones.

He sat back with his arm outstretched to wait the worst of the pain away and catch his breath. Once he could take a full steady breath in, he retrieved the little suture kit.

It was a good thing he was the one to take that fall. Matt wasn't sure any of his colleagues would manage to properly clean and stitch a wound. Even with guidance over the comm, some of them could have the dexterity to do the stitches, but not the ability to keep calm until more help arrived.

It wasn't until Matt had the needle, thread and hemostat ready he realized that, actually, he had no idea how he would do this either.

His dominant hand was useless to work on this two handed job. He could probably use it to hold something, but there was no way to use it on its own arm.

He better not have a fucking concussion on top of all this.

He steadied his arm between his knees, trying to squeeze it in a way to push the edges of the wound as close together as possible. He was determined to make it up as he went along.

He couldn't get the hemostat to work on his left hand, so he threw it aside and held the needle with his fingers.

He expected the sting of the needle to feel like nothing compared to the agony of the gash, but it aggravated it in a way he had to consider just leaving it alone and take his chances against dying right there. He shakily pushed the needle through the other side of flesh after a couple of deep breaths.

He stared at the thread crossing his open skin. The obvious part was over, now he had to focus to remember all the steps. It was like doing his first stitches on a sponge all that time ago.

Right. Cross the thread. This was the twisty part, right? He missed having the hemostat.

Come on, learning to do something one handed was good, rewiring the brain, keeping it in shape.

He made two loops, moving the thread with his thumb and index, holding it with his pinkie. He pushed the needle through the loops, pulling it with his teeth and holding the loose side of thread, the edges of skin meeting where the stitch tractioned it. Matt let himself whimper at the feeling, both the surface of the skin and muscles protesting at the movement.

He repeated the loops to the other side, cursing when they slipped away from his fingers, but completing the knots of the stitch. 

He snipped the ends of thread, completing the suture. He sighed in relief and admired his work. But then he had to laugh. 

That was one stitch down. There remained… What, about 20?

His comm beeped to life beside him. Isabella's voice came from it. “Hey, Matt, how are you holding up?”

“Fine.” He sighed, forcing his voice not to shake. “My foot is still messed up, so I’m-I’m just sitting here.”

“We're going to leave you bored for a while. We found a path around the bushes, should take a little less than two hours to reach you,” She said, apologetic, but hopeful. “Roye says he’d keep you company if we weren't worried about about battery.”

“Ha, thanks.” He swallowed the lump in his throat, looking at how much he still had to suture, the wound slowly seeping blood into his pants. “I’ll just enjoy a nap, maybe.”

“Sleep well, Matt. We’ll wake you when we get there,” she signed off sweetly.

Matt laid back against the rock, looking at his injured arm. He sighed and forced himself upright. He wiped the blood around it as best as he could. The gash wasn't going to close itself.

He struggled with the next two stitches, but then he blanked out, and when he realized, half of it was already closed up.

It was not a good sign, but he was relieved it was almost done before he noticed.

His hands shook as he completed the next ones, and the needle slipped out of his fingers more than once, but he got there.

He pierced the skin one last time, looped the thread twice, pulled the needle through. Looped twice to the other side, pulled it through. Helping with his teeth. His vision was blurry and his mouth tasted like copper. But he did it.

He snipped the last of the thread, finally. 

He slumped back against the rock, realizing he had been holding his breath. He had to pour some more antiseptic over it, but he couldn't get his non injured arm to move. Needed to drink some water, maybe, but his limbs fell heavily at his sides.

Well, fuck. At least people were already coming. 

His vision started to grey out, and he allowed the fog to take over.

-

He woke up being half carried already.

“I FUCKING TOLD YOU HE WAS HIDING SOMETHING,” Rex shouted beside him. “WHAT DID I FUCKING SAY, I’LL RIP YOUR OTHER ARM APART, YOU IDIOT!”

Matt chuckled. He would have thought the same if the roles were reversed.

He felt his consciousness drifting again. He took advantage of the light hearted moment and the safety of the arms heaving him up, and let it go. He was fine now.

[finderseeker]

Need some input because I feel very selfish

Mom's husband is in immense pain because of back surgery and other issues. He missed his meds and took them two hours late, and so now the pain is exponentially worse. He is crying. No, he's weeping. There is nothing anyone can do for him. (And he will not go to the emergency room.) Every single movement is literal agony for him. Non-movement is agony. Every breath, every second, every sensation is excruciating. This is a man who grew up under horrific abuse, worked through a bone-on-bone shoulder injury for like a decade, etc etc, and he is sobbing. With every single breath he takes it is a cry of pain. He will not accept help, he will not be taken to the ER, he will use a cane when he has to walk but he won't use the walker or wheelchair. He tried to get up from the armchair and walk maybe four meters to the chair on the balcony, and he could hardly move. He wobbled with every step and I had to help him stay balanced and it took a solid couple minutes and every inhale and exhale was a whimpering cry of agonizing pain. He is sitting out there and I am listening to him pant and sob and he's only sitting.

Am I selfish for being incredibly uncomfortable, when he's the one who's suffering? I had to sit down on the kitchen floor because the sounds he makes are just horrific and I can't do anything, no one can do anything. I would never ever ever ask him to not make sounds, or act in a way that implied it, but when I am out of his view, is it selfish of me to curl up in a ball and cover my ears? Am I a bad person? I want to throw up, it sounds so awful, but I'm not even suffering, so how I can I say that?? It's not his fault he's in pain, I would never blame him for anything. But is it wrong to feel like I just want to get away from him so I don't have to see and hear? Is that bad? Is it ableist? Does it make me a mean person?

I don't know what to do and I feel awful. No one is saying or implying that I'm being selfish, but I feel like I am. I just wanted some outside input.

[cressida-jayoungr]

Only Dreaming of Peace

(Note: I am neither the original author nor the translator of this piece. It is a favorite post from my LiveJournal days. The original post, by LiveJournal user Lilan14, can be found here.)

I know I still have my vacation report to finish, but that will have to wait, as I saw this wonderful real-life story in one of my LJ friends' journal. It was originally posted to ru_cats, a Russian cat-lover comm, by a mystery book writer, and her style is just as excellent as the story itself. So, sit back and enjoy! Oh, and make sure you're not eating or drinking something while at it, for your own safety...

The translation is mine.

Only Dreaming of Peace...

I've been recently asked to post to LJ a story of uneven struggle of Man with Cat for the right to sleep where they want, without the risk of dying shamefully underneath a cat's butt. I am doing this and hiding it behind the cut. Let it stay here as a reminder to posterity and the desperate ones who will decide to get a Maine Coon and a bed with a wide headboard.

Part One

Dear ru_cats people, I am here asking for advice.

There's a cat. The cat weighs ten kilograms. There's a bed. The bed has a tall soft headboard 10 to 15 cm wide. There are also the cat's owners, who sleep on the bed.

At night, the cat leaps onto the headboard and walks on it. The cat has a night promenade. However, since the cat was a cow in the previous life and transferred certain peculiarities to his present incarnation, during his fourth or fifth go he loses his balance and plops down. If I'm lucky, the cat lands beside me. If I'm not, the ten kilograms of the cat land onto my head, and always butt-first, for some reason.

Question: how to make the cat drop the habit?

Have already tried:

duct tape spread on the headboard. (As a result, we spent half the night taking them off the crazed cat, nearly scalping him).

the cat's hated smell of ylang-ylang. (The cat didn't care it was hated).

tangerine peel in large amounts (The cat swept the peel onto my head in disgust, following it in the process).

What else can be done? I've already slept with spray under my pillow. The cat runs away, then comes back.

The cat's picture enclosed for realizing the scope of the problem:

Part Two

Two days ago, I posted this cry for help to the comm: http://ru-cats.livejournal.com/19218540.html Got a lot of replies. Two were used at once. Reporting as promised.

I like simple and easily implemented ideas. That's why the suggestions to attach a shelf to the bed, to the cat, to my head, so that it would be comfy for him to fall onto, were postponed.

First I took six balloons from the kid, inflated them and placed them between the wall and the bed. It all looked very pretty. Husband and I admired them and went to bed.  

In the middle of the night, there was a bang. In my sleep, I thought husband had shot the cat (even though the only weapon in our house is a water pistol). When the lights were turned on, the cat was sitting on the floor amidst bits of a blue balloon, squinting disapprovingly. He got kicked, the balloons were moved, and we went to bed again. This was our strategic error, proving how little we knew about cats.

He exploded two more balloons about twenty minutes later and ran away, making derisive sounds. Husband insisted that I take everything away and be done with experiments for the night. While I was putting the balloons away, the cat sneaked up to the largest one and smacked it with his paw.

Results: minus four balloons, minus two hours of sleep, minus eight meters of nerve fiber per two adults. Plus cat entertainment.

Then we went for Plan B. The entire headboard was covered with several layers of foil, so it would rustle loudly. I assured husband he could now sleep in peace: the cat would definitely be afraid to step onto the foil.

Well, I was almost right. The cat showed up a couple of hours later, when we were asleep. He jumped onto the foil from the wardrobe. The foil rustled, the cat freaked out, leapt into the air and fell onto husband.

Results: minus ten meters of foil, minus forty drops of sedative per two adults. Plus cat entertainment.

This is how he was looking at us in the morning, while we were trying to make breakfast with shaking hands.

I will try the shelf tomorrow.

Part Three

After the foil and the balloons failed, I started to think in a different direction: how not to let the cat into the bedroom at night.

First I used cat repellent. Unfortunately, the cat did not get it was repellent. However, husband did; he winced, sniffed and finally asked me to air the room. So I now have husband repellent; if anyone needs it, I can share.

The washbowl full of water turned out to be just as stupid. We placed it counting on the cat splashing in it and forgetting the bed (he loves water).

We had counted half-correctly: the cat did splash, but he didn't forget the bed. At night, he hopped back to us, shaking wet paws. In my sleep, I thought he had twenty-two of them. He used ten to step on my face, the rest to run on the sheets. Finally, he kissed husband soundly on the nose, nuzzling him with a wet face dripping with water.

After that husband said screw the interior, he agreed to the shelf.

In the evening, he brought a polished board, spent two hours with it, cursed the innocent bed, and, finally, attached it. I wanted to say that I preferred the cat rather than that thing falling onto us (no one would get from under it alive). But I looked at husband's face and decided to keep it to myself. Okay, I thought, so we'll sleep with it one night, and then I'll take it off.

In addition, the kid ran it before bedtime and left her toys on it. I waved it aside and didn't scold her, because I was thinking which relative to pick to raise our child, should we be buried under the shelf.

(I have to say my worries were silly: as it turned out, husband did a quality job with it.)

In the middle of the night, the cat stepped onto the shelf. He strolled nonchalantly halfway along the shelf and touched one of the toys with his paw.

It turned out to be an interactive Zhu Zhu Pets hamster.

From the touch of a cat paw, the hamster turned on. It cried out cheerfully "Abuzuuuuuuuuuzyyyyyy!" and ran toward the cat, glowing with love.

I would gladly tell you about what happened next. But I won't lie: we didn't see it. And we didn't see the cat until morning. The hamster reached the edge of the shelf and committed suicide lemming-style, jumping off a rock into the full washbowl.

Result: we took off the shelf. We have a guard hamster sitting on the headboard now. The cat does not go into the room. If he happens to notice the hamster through the open door, he swells to manul size and retreats in horror.

Here is our hero and rescuer:

[vulpeskorsak]

Day 1 of Whumptober 2024: Staying still

No. 1: RACE AGAINST THE CLOCK Search Party | Panic Attack | “If only we could hold on.” (Icysami x Renegaderr, Strangers.)

I was too busy to start posting these on the 1st but here I am today.

AO3 got banned in my country and VPNs have not been working well on my PC lately, so I am not going to post these there for now. But hopefully I can do that at some point.

This is taking place in my own DnD/fantasy world.

Elias is a young magistrate cursed to turn into a blue half-reptile half-man doing his best to hide and temporarily reverse it.

--------------

Staying still

Do not look up. Do not look up.

Claws dig into the wood with a soft scraping noise, almost making their owner gasp. Elias holds his breath looking straight ahead at the ceiling window only a couple meters away from him. Unable to find the courage to look down and check if anyone has heard him, he keeps staring at the distant salvation. If only he could be as quiet as actual lizards. Unfortunately, he only somewhat looks like one.

"Nothing's here! It must have escaped out back!" A hoarse voice of an older woman calls out from right underneath him.

Yes. Yes. He… It is gone. Go chase it somewhere else.

"No, that door is locked. I just checked." Her younger male companion answers, making Elias' heart sink. "It must be still here… somewhere."

He could make a dash for it. But then they will keep chasing. And he has no clue how to get off the church roof. It is quite a tall building. He has no idea how he managed to get up right under the rafters either but he could probably figure climbing down from the roof if he had some time to think… if he can get away from them.

He steels himself for a moment and carefully glances down. Nobody is looking at him. Which is good. But they have crossbows. Which is bad, very bad. The two bolts sticking out his back and tail provide irrefutable proof that their aim is at least somewhat decent. And… is that a wand in the old innkeeper's hand? How did he manage to get something like that?

The situation might actually be horrible. It is too far to see and he does not know about magic enough to know what type of wand that might be but if it is anything akin to a fireball, he is dead.

Elias' body begins to tremble. He does not want to die. He almost bites his lower lip, remembering the sharpness of his teeth at the very last moment. He can barely breathe yet if his breath was even a touch deeper and louder it might end up sealing his demise. He wants to cry but that would be even louder.

Why did he have come to this godforsaken town?! Curse him! Curse it! Curse the stupid useless potion! Curse his curse! He might die in this shithole and his head would be mounted in the inn by these idiots! He tried explaining his situation to them but they shot at him before he could get a full sentence out. Who does that? What kind of illiterate monsters live in this town?

"Stay vigilant! It killed the magistrate and we might be next if we're not careful," another male voice warns before falling into a fit of heavy coughing and sniffling.

I am the magistrate! He wants to cry out. Instead, he grits his teeth and stays as still as possible. His muscles twitch and begin to hurt from being in the same position for too long but he cannot risk moving a limb in case the old wooden beam he is on creaks. His long tail feels like it is going to start vibrating if he keeps it still for any longer.

"The basement hatch is open!" Someone announces.

The group urgently moves from being right under Elias further into the church. He cannot be sure that they will actually go in, so he needs to move now while he has a chance.

He begins crawling slowly, one limb at a time, his tail carefully lifted and straightened to not scrape against anything. He makes it to the window and is forced to lift himself up on one of his arms so the other could reach for the window latch. The moonlight shines through it, making his opalescent gray and blue scales shine even prettier than they usually do when he transforms. He prays they do not look his way now that he is so easy to spot.

The tilted window open inside the building with a loud creak.

"THERE!"

As he lunges up through the opening, a bolt scrapes his side without finding purchase on the hard and smooth scales. Something whizzes through the air towards him as he scrambles to pull himself out into the night. Intense heat blasts out behind him, just as his feet plant themselves on the roof tiles. The end half of his tail explodes in horrible pain making him lose his footing and slide down. His eyes fill with tears almost instantly from the shock, making it hard to see. He lets out a bone-chilling bellowing roar as he cries out in pain and fear. Several flocks of birds lift into the night sky from all over the town and the surrounding forest filling the air with their own deafening calls of distress, followed by a high-pitched scream of terror from one of the nearby houses with windows facing the church.

Elias barely manages to push himself off the rood, attempting an almost blind jump for the nearby tree. His powerful hind legs send him up and forward much farther that he anticipated, making him crash chest first into a thick branch, knocking the air out of his lungs.

He hisses grabbing onto the bark as he tries to blink the tears out of his eyes and reorient himself. The distinct sound of a bunch of boots stomping hurriedly on the creaky wooden floor gives him the motivation he needed to quickly shake it off, figure out where he is and begin moving. He lets go, landing on a lower branch with his feet, then jumps down to the ground with grace he did not know he possessed, and begins sprinting towards the forest on all fours, faster than he has even run before.

By the time the hunting party makes it out of the church, his burnt tail crosses the border of forest. They give chase but cannot keep up with the speed and the stamina of the terrified lizardman. He does not stop running even when he stops hearing them. He has no idea where he is going. He has never been in this part of the country before, let alone this forest, let alone at night.

It feels like he has been running for hours. Eventually, as the night begins to lighten, he spots a massive tree with a large burrow between its roots. He tastes the air and his instincts tell him it is long abandoned, so he dives in, collapsing next a pile of dusty gnawed bones and fur left behind by whatever beast used to inhabit this place.

Elias curls into a ball, sobbing and trembling with exhaustion and pain. He cannot take it anymore. Everything hurts. He can barely breathe. He cannot feel his legs. And he has nowhere to go. He is Baron Elias Veritas Mercer, the youngest successful magister of his country, for crying out loud. And he was just being hunted like some wild beast. He was supposed to spend this night in a luxurious room in the inn, resting after a long trip and getting ready for tomorrow meeting with his new acquaintance. His curse just had to flare up and his potion just had to be spoiled or made poorly or whatever the fuck was even wrong with it. He has no idea. It tasted the same as usual. But he transformed much quicker than he should have. Perhaps, something else triggered it? He has no idea. He is not a mage, not an alchemist. His acquaintance is. But he would not dare return to look for him. Even if he could somehow go back to looking normal, he does not know where the man lives. He has no idea what to do.

He carefully reaches for a bolt still stuck in his back and tries to pull it out. It hurts like hell, making him cry even harder and give up. The one in his tail fell out somewhere along the way on its own, thankfully. But his tail still hurts like hell. He has never been burnt by anything worse than a few drops of hot tea before. The previously pretty scales look cracked and malformed while the skin between them is charred to almost black.

There is nothing he can do about his situation now, so he drags himself to what seems like a softer part of the burrow and falls asleep almost as soon his eyes close.

[xenon-demon]

med student steve and nurse eddie who is sick of his shit please <3 from wip wednesday i know it's not wednesday anymore but plz

yessssss i love this AU so much because it's just me projecting onto steve and daydreaming about Eddie Munson, Certified Hot Nurse™

also don't worry i have very little free time and am also australian so for me, WIP wednesday is a state of mind, not an actual time frame lmao

Snippet for you under the cut!

Shaking off the black cloud currently hanging over him, Steve finally lays eyes on the person trying to get his attention. A nurse is leaning over the desk of the nurse’s station a few meters away to look straight at Steve, and– wow, okay. Steve knows damn well what his type is, the kind of person and style he goes weak in the knees for, but this guy is aggressively punching every single one of Steve’s buttons. He’s got dark, curly hair that’s done up in a bun, some small strands of hair hanging out to frame the guy’s face. It gives Steve an eyeful of the guy’s killer jawline and the jewellery glinting in his ears – studs, of course, they are on the job, but at a glance Steve can see at least a couple in each ear. The guy’s arms are spread out on the desk in front of him, and Steve can feel his brain freeze at the sight of dark ink poking out from under the guy’s scrubs. He forces himself to look up and away from those (tempting, deliciously tempting) arms and into the nurse’s face – and okay, that’s not much better. The way this guy is looking at him, big brown eyes locked onto Steve’s face, he feels like he’s getting sucked in.

“Sorry?” Steve says, taking a moment to blink and regain his composure. He hopes to God he doesn’t look as flustered and distressed as he feels. “Are you talking to me?”

“Yup,” the nurse says, popping the p. He gestures at the sample bag Steve’s holding, with a few different vials and one syringe of blood inside, as he continues. The smile he gives Steve is almost apologetic as he says, “Pathology isn’t going to take those bloods from you, sweetheart. Not like that, at least.”

“Excuse me?” Steve instinctively bristles at the pet name, the way it just drips off this guy’s tongue. Just like that, the black cloud is back. He crosses the distance over to the nurse’s desk. “What’s wrong with them? They’ve all been labelled properly, and signed.”

“Well…” The nurse says, drawing out the word. Steve feels himself start to frown, just the tiniest bit. “You left the needle on your blood gas.” With a couple of fingers, the nurse points to the offending syringe in Steve’s sample bag. Sure enough, the needle is still attached to the syringe full of blood, the sharp end embedded in a small piece of foam.

Steve frowns even deeper. “My intern told me it’s fine like this.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t surprise me.” The guy grins and rolls his eyes before giving Steve a ‘what can you do’ kind of expression. “It’s a common mistake to make, actually, since they don’t really explain this stuff officially, but-”

“Listen,” Steve interrupts, gritting out the word between his teeth. He’s sure this nurse, whoever he is, has more important things to do than patronize him. Steve sure as fuck isn’t going to stand here and be made fun of while this guy takes his sweet-ass time to get to his point. “I’m pretty sure my intern knows what they’re talking about, seeing as they’re, you know, a doctor. If you really want to be helpful”–Steve’s eyes flick down to read the nurse’s name badge–“Eddie, then you can point me in the direction of the specimen drop-off.”

Eddie actually rears back at that, straightening up and pulling his arms back so he’s holding on to the very edge of the desk instead of casually leaning over the top of it. If Steve were having a better day, he might feel bad about it. As it is, all Steve feels is a sick sense of satisfaction at the way Eddie’s face has shuttered off, his eyes no longer shining the way they were a moment ago.

“It’s that way,” Eddie says bluntly, pointing back in the direction Steve came. His voice has lost all the character, the theatricality that he spoke with a minute ago. “Turn left once you step out of this ward and follow that hallway straight down.”

“Thanks,” Steve says, trying very hard not to feel like an asshole. He almost succeeds.

Eddie just grunts in acknowledgement. He gives Steve a quick once-over and says, “Good talk,” in a tone that clearly states it was anything but.

As he strides off towards the specimen drop-off, Steve can’t help but agree.

[gra93fruit-blog]

Introductions Pt. 3

Sorry I am Ill and did not go into work today so this is a bit later.

Warning: Drug use,

Space marine Husbandry Verse.

You finally get your new friend out of the pit.

The chainsaw sounds were what did it—you quickly turned around. Feeling slightly pathetic, you realized you’d only made it about a meter from the sinkhole before the familiar crunch of a chainsaw caused you to run back. There was some shouting from the marine and a shattering crunch that must have been the concrete giving way under giant metal boots.

“Hey!” you shouted as you hurried over to the pit, your legs feeling relaxed and loose. The green-clad marine was diligently ramming the end of what looked like an oversized chainsaw into the frozen earth around him.

“Holy shit!” was your elegant response as you watched him press the chainsaw sword into the ground. You held your breath, half-expecting it to buck back and take a limb with it. You saw it try to buck a couple of times as the teeth hit small stones or stubborn pieces of ice, but instead of kicking back and lopping off a limb, the marine kept a steady grip, simply pressing the chainsaw deeper into the dirt.

When you reached the edge, the marine’s head jerked up for a second, and you got the feeling he was pleased you’d returned. His obvious enjoyment didn’t stop him from his task, though, as he pressed the chainsaw sword into the earth with more vigor, stopping only when he’d created a large divot in the frozen ground.

Task complete, he stepped back and did his best to look up in armour that clearly wasn’t designed for it. He gave you a quick nod before getting back to work, gesturing to the wall and then starting another divot a little further up.

“Okay, so you're making a ladder. Not sure even the permafrost will hold your weight, dude,” you said, attempting to catch his eye and gesturing for him to wait. He looked up, saw you, and then promptly ignored you in favour of continuing to carve into the side of the pit.

“Oh, you're a stubborn bastard, aren't you?” was all you muttered as you looked around, checking your phone again to see if anything had magically given you service in the last five minutes.

The answer was no. You could, however, hear the deep rumbling of a snowmobile, and given it was poker night, there was a good chance it was passing on the road behind you. Sure enough, a single headlight and the distressed sound of a snowmobile broke through from the woods. You took a deep breath.

“Hey! Jona, or Russ, or Asha! I need some help over here!” you shouted as the snowmobile zipped closer. It veered towards you, and as it got closer, you recognized Asha.

“Hey! What's up—oh, the sinkhole's back.”

“Yeah, and there's a marine in it too.”

“What?” Asha dismounted, well away from the sinkhole, and wandered over, sniffing the air before giving you a sly grin.

“Holy shit… Yeah, that’s a marine. He seems to be making progress on whatever he’s doing.”

“I think he’s making a ladder,” you informed her, looking down at the unfolding situation. The marine, undeterred by her arrival, continued to carve into the side.

“Want me to get my tow straps and the backhoe from public works? I have Gordie’s emergency contact. They’re heavy, but I bet they’ll be quick.”

You looked at the marine, who was making slow but steady progress toward what looked like a ladder. “Even at this hour, I’m pretty sure they’ll get here before he’s finished that ladder. Let’s call Gordie—you’re talking to him,” you decided, preferring to maintain some level of professionalism.

You waited for the chainsaw to ease up before shouting into the hole again. “Hey! We’re going to get someone to scoop you out of there!” The marine looked up, replied with something indiscernible, and went back to work.

“He’s dedicated,” Asha remarked.

“I just want to know where he came from. It’s not like we get wandering warbands around here, and the ice road would be too thin for him to cross on foot anyway.” She lit a cigarette. “I’ll let everyone know what’s going on and that you didn’t get lost in a drift somewhere. I’ll call Gordie using Russ’s internet, too. I’ll be back in a bit with news—Gordie’s still at public works, so he might beat me here,” she added, patting your shoulder warmly before heading back to her snowmobile.

“Thanks. I’ll stay here with him, then,” you said, inching slightly closer to the edge of the pit. You heard the snowmobile rev away and saw the marine glance up at the sound, then relax and return to his cutting.

“We’ll get you out,” you told him and waited. Talking didn’t seem helpful, so you waited in silence. Time passed slowly, and after about 20 minutes, the marine had made progress, creating three giant divots in the ground. You figured he’d need at least five more, given the spacing, and eyed them skeptically, unsure if the frozen dirt would hold him.

You were pondering how to mime this when you heard the distinct clunk-clunk-clunk of tracks on ice. The backhoe was coming. With any luck, the ladder wouldn’t be necessary. The rumble and clank of the backhoe seemed to catch the marine’s attention more than anything else had. As it got closer, the ground started to shake.

The marine’s head jerked up at the sound, and he suddenly turned off the chainsaw sword, scanning for the noise.

You made eye contact, smiled, and gave a thumbs-up. The backhoe had crept up the road enough that the ground shook noticeably, and its lights were visible. The marine froze, then, in an almost hushed tone, gestured for you to come closer, his helmeted head scanning around constantly.

You smiled—the backhoe was coming up. But the ground shaking and the sound of the tracks could be terrifying if you didn’t know what was coming.

“It’s what we’re going to get you out with,” you explained calmly, making sure to look relaxed. Your smile and casual demeanour didn’t seem to reassure him, though; he seemed more stressed, gesturing sharply and speaking in what sounded like angry hisses.

“Hey, you’re good. It’s just a backhoe,” you reassured him, waving at it as it rattled closer. The marine stayed tense, but you waved the backhoe over.

The operator eventually emerged from the cab, sleepy-eyed, and gazed down at the pit with you.

“I thought we fixed that.”

“I mean, you probably didn’t expect it to have to hold up a marine,” you remarked, still watching the marine, who’d gone stock still, his unseen eyes apparently locked on Gordie.

“Think if we dangle the bucket down, he’ll get in?” Gordie asked, nodding toward the marine.

“It’s worth a try,” you said, although you weren’t entirely sure; the marine looked like a dog deciding whether to bite or not.

“Well, let’s give it a shot,” Gordie replied, returning to the warm cab.

Before long, the bucket dangled clumsily above the pit, slowly lowering. While you could probably climb inside it, there was no way the marine would fit. A loud hiss marked it locking into place at the marine’s chest height.

For his part, the marine stayed tense but seemed willing to approach the bucket. He hooked one leg into it, and Gordie slowly inched the bucket up, dragging the marine up and out of the pit, eventually swinging him to solid ground.

There was a flash, and you realized Gordie had snapped a picture of the marine as he was trying to extricate himself from the bucket.

“So,” Gordie shouted over the noise, “what are we gonna do with him?”

You hadn’t thought that far. The marine, however, seemed to have a plan in mind, as he immediately made a beeline for you. Before you knew it, he was looming ominously above.

_________________________________________________________

Eldan looked down at the stinking human, with red glazed eyes and tried to decide what exactly he was going to do. None of his brothers were answering their vox and he did not know where he was. He should, go looking find out where he was, but something seemed to keep him by this humans side. He could still remember the sharp flair of panic that had taken over him when he thought they she was leaving.

Link to Part 1

Link to Part 2

[deathbyseventeen]

As the World Caves In (Ending)

pairing: Dino/Chan x f!reader

genre: post-apocalyptic, romance/fluff, angst | zombie!au

word count: ≅3.4k

series: To be Together

chapter warnings: allusions & talk death, weapons (the knifebrella & a gun), violence (defending self from zombies), oh and blood and references to body parts and viscera (not descriptive though)

summary: The world ended on a Tuesday in November, days after Halloween, when the sun was less than an hour away from setting. Chan had just left his dorm’s building, late to his History of Dance 136A lecture, when it happened. You hadn’t been as lucky on the day the world began to crumble.

a/n: hello again :) the ending is here! apologizes for the wait. but if you’re just seeing this fic now... maybe take a chance and start from the beginning? :)) links are right there below. oh boy oh boy oh boy

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{intro} + {3 days since the end} + {7 days since the end} + {10 days since the end} + {20 days since the end} + {24 days since the end} + {27 days since the end} + {a month since the end}

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a month since the end

Chan struggles to breathe from under the bundle of blankets you’d wrapped around him as if the combination of hoodies, coats, and scarves he was wearing (something you’d insisted on, he remembers) were nothing more but a pair of swimming trunks. In a span of a couple of days, the temperature dropped drastically, and though it had yet to snow, the river had already frozen over. Guilt gnawed at him as he watched you carefully step onto the center of the river, a simple beanie and coat to fight off the bitter cold, while you tried to get a good look at the surroundings. 

He understood that he was still sick, though not as bad as he was before. Still, he wished you would let him be the one to catalog the locations and amount of zombies around. He hadn’t moved from the spot where you’d helped him sit down inside a service closet the two of you had found underneath the river’s bridge. You were meters away, far enough that he couldn’t really tell what face you were making but not far enough to where he couldn’t see that you were trembling in your boots. 

Sometimes, when the sun went down, he swore the mild fever he still had was giving him hallucinations. At this moment, however, he knew it wasn’t just his imagination that was making you shake. 

He wished he could call you back, urge you to turn around, and return to him.

It felt like an eternity before you made your careful way back across the iced river to him and let the door close all but an inch or two with a brick. You sat down across from him, dragging the duffle bag where you’d stuffed the night’s supplies to you with a hand.

A sleeping bag, the cans of food that would be dinner tonight, two water bottles, two flasks, and two trash bags. He reached for the bottle of medicine you pulled out then.

“How are you feeling?” You asked him as you opened the cans of food, waiting for him to swallow the syrup. 

“Better,” he croaked, then cleared his throat. 

“Maybe we should look for something stronger,” you suggested, holding out a can of salmon for him. 

“No,” he shook his head. “I am getting better. This’ll go away, I know.” 

“Alright.” You relent.

The two of you ate in silence, only sharing the sound of your spoons scraping against the insides of the cans. 

Chan would have preferred conversation, the silence between the two of you felt too much like a wall was being built between the two of you, but his sore throat prevented any attempt from his side.

Even after you finished eating and began to unfurl the sleeping bag and arrange an even bigger pile of blankets around it, he continued to eat in silence. The rock he felt in his throat forced him to eat languidly, almost entirely focused on pushing the food down his throat.

But by the time he finished, he’d had enough, and the words left him before he could think them through. 

“You told the others where we were going, right?”

Chan watched you still for a moment and squeeze your eyes shut. Almost immediately, he regretted what he’d said and cursed himself for not stopping and thinking of something better to say. You had yet to say anything or turn to look at him, but he could still read the words running through your head from a single corner of one of your eyelids. ‘For the hundredth time.’ Then they shot open--you wouldn’t say that to him-- and you turned to him.

“Yes, Chan. I told them, as best I could, the general direction we’d be taking toward your hometown.” 

“Okay,” he croaked, a bright red blush settling on his cheeks. 

He managed a couple of seconds of renewed silence, toying with the seam of his pants before grabbing one of the trash bags. 

“I’m going to go to use the bathroom outside.” 

“Here.” You held out a roll of toilet paper. “Try not to stay out too long, or you’ll get sick again.” 

He mumbled out a thanks as he grabbed the roll and shuffled outside the fastest he could. 

Without the armada of blankets encompassing him in a cocoon of warmth, a gust of cold December wind chilled him to the bone and froze him just outside the door. He trembled, gaze stuck on the horizon with tears pricking at his eyes. Then the wind settled, and he was able to look away, blinking away the tears as he left the enclave.

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Chan traced circles into your arms later that night. Much like earlier, you had yet to say anything to him, choosing to arrange your supplies while you waited for him to get ready for sleep. There was only one sleeping bag and it had come with a series of compromises. While you’d attempted to get him to use the bag for himself, he refused until the two of you wound up pressed together inside. Even then, you refused to sleep inside until he was already under it. So he slipped in first, and you zipped shut the bag. 

Tonight, though he was sure you were upset with him, changed nothing. You slipped into the bag after him, silently, zipping it shut enough around the two of you that you could still pull the blankets at the front of the sleeping bag over you two. Then, laid down, half on top of Chan with one hand resting on his shoulders and the other at his side.

He couldn’t sleep.

Even with a hand clutched around you, he was uneasy. 

Words accumulated at the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t find a way to say them. 

It wasn’t until he felt your breath even out that the words managed to slip past his lips. 

“I’m sorry,” He whispered. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I don’t mean to keep asking you. I just…” he squeezed his eyes shut, “I don’t like the silence. I keep thinking about them, and I start to worry they’re already dead.” 

His heart raced at the admission,  and he let out a shuddering breath as he tried to calm down. He did, eventually, and when that finally happened, he shifted so he was able to place a kiss on the crown of your head. 

He had just closed his eyes when he felt you shift and brush your own lips across the underside of his jaw.

☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡

Your fingers toyed with the inside of his pant pocket, encompassed in the warmth of a heat pack you’d found in the maintenance room you’d slept in days before. 

“Now, if I were a sporting store, where would I hide?” Chan whispered into your ears as the two of you walked down a block of stores. 

The streets were zombie-free, and it unnerved him. He wondered if you had noticed the eerie loneliness of the streets or if you had managed to ignore it in favor of a prettier image. 

“Running a few laps around the block, I imagine.” You answered, giving his hand a squeeze before returning to your ministrations on his fingers.

“Perhaps they’d like to break so we can have a chat.” 

You hummed. “Maybe. Would you like to call out to it instead? See if it comes?”

He laughed.

With an added bounce to your step, you started to hum under your breath. Chan was sure that if it’d been warmer, you’d have-- 

You slipped your hand out of his pocket, pulling his hand and the hot pack along with yours, and swung them. He smiled. It was an innate reaction, and in the end, the only thing he could have done that wouldn’t break the spell you’d cast over yourself. 

The two of you continued to walk like that for what seemed like an eternity to Chan. The sun had long past reached its highest point in the sky for the day. It would only take another couple of hours before it would begin to set, and the sporting goods store was yet to be found. Just how many times had the two of you gone in circles? He was sure he’d seen that ravaged kiosk of cell phone cases at least fifty times. (And still, no zombies anywhere in sight.)

His thoughts strayed toward the stolen-- he frowned, though he knew it was now inconsequential-- car the two of you had found in one of the university’s parking structures. If he had managed to count correctly, the car was at least ten blocks down the street you’d come from, a mile or more so away.

Lost in thought, he missed the moment you stopped humming and swinging your intertwined hands.

“How long do you think it’ll take us to find it?” It was faint, hardly louder than the gusts of wind that brushed past the two of you every now and again. But it was enough to pull him out of his preoccupations and startle him into flinching.

“What?” He swallowed. “The sports store? I know it’s already taken us too long--” 

“No,” you interrupted, “I mean, how long do you think it’ll take us to find the safe zone?” 

“The safe zone?” 

“What if it’s not even a safe zone anymore? What if it’s moved?” 

“Wait. Wait.” He pulled you to a stop. “What? Y/N, you can’t-- you shouldn’t be thinking about those things.”

“Chan, our only goal is to get to safety. To get to the safe zone. But what do we do if it’s not real anymore.” 

He shook his head. “Y/N, our only goal right now is to find that store.” He grabs you by the shoulders, leaving the hot pack in your hands, “We need a tent. We need to find food. We need to get back to the car. We find shelter for the night. We need to find my brothers.”

“And then?”

“And then we find safety.” 

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“How much longer do you think we have?” You ask Chan as the two of you speed walk down a pathway that leads to a hidden street. 

A single directory station the two of you had stumbled upon by chance hours after he’d reassured you had shown you the location of the store you looked for. 

“Not long,” he frowns. “Maybe an hour, hour and a half, if we’re lucky. What do you think?”

“An hour,” you agreed, then nudged his shoulder and nodded to the sky. “Maybe less.”

In the distance, beyond the grove of trees you were walking through, a patch of sky was visible. While most of the sky was a chilly blue, the horizon was starting to turn a warm orange, with bits of pink starting to bleed into the blue.

“Maybe less,”  Chan agreed.

“It should be around here somewhere,” Chan murmured as the two of you reached the end of the path.

The two of you stood at the end of the grove, taking in the wide, dead-end street it opened into. Then your eyes fell on the elusive sporting store you’d been looking for.

You gripped Chan by the forearm, a grin overtaking the tired expression on your face. 

“Come on,” Chan nodded. “We have to hurry.” Then he took off running, and you set off after him, nipping at his heels.

From far away, the rows of stores looked like they were perfect recreations of pictures of a miniature model shopping district. Both of you could have sworn that its windows were glittering from the sunlight, that you could see glare streaks across the glass. But the closer the two of you got, the quicker the little details started to come into focus. 

Like the other stores, the sports store’s front windows had been smashed through completely. Its glass rested on the floor in front of the store like grains of sand, forcing you to a stop.

“We don’t really have a choice, do we?” You mumbled. 

“No,” Chan agreed. “Follow me.”

Chan walked alongside the front of the store, looking for a space where the glass hadn’t fallen. Finding none, he stopped at the edge of the store and pointed at the corner of the window sill. 

“We’re going to have to stretch as far as we can to get inside. I’ll go first and give you a hand.”

His hands were freezing when he grabbed yours and pulled you inside, but it was the temperature inside the store that made a shiver run down your spine. Then, as the two of you turned to step inside, the two of you froze as if you’d suddenly been hit by a cold snap.

Deeper inside, where the sunlight was quickly receding, blood splattered the floor and clothing racks. Corpses, complete or not, laid one on top of another, all of them heading deeper into the store. The sunlight didn’t reach deeper inside, but you didn’t need to see deeper inside to imagine the corpses and body parts that were probably strewn around. 

“They probably took refuge here.”

“Yeah,” you choked out.

While the undead terrified you, it came as a terrifying realization that you had managed to ignore all of the corpses and body parts that you’d run into before. Images of the day the world ended came flashing back. The people pounding on the gym’s windows, the undead behind them, the viscera on the way to the stadium, and the random body parts and trails of blood throughout the city. You’d managed to ignore it all. That was so… unsafe. 

“Y/N,” Chan called to you, “Y/N. Y/N, I need you to focus. Look at me. Y/N, look at me.”

He forced you to turn and look at him, though you were trembling nonstop. He didn’t know if you were listening, if you were even here. You had a hazy look in your eyes that made the apprehension he felt intensify tenfold. 

“We’ve only got a little while to find everything we need, but we’re going to have to split up. Are you okay with that?”

You shook for a moment longer, and Chan was sure he was going to have to pull you along. Then you nodded.

“Don’t think about it. Just ignore it.”

You nodded again.

“I’ll go this way.” He waved a hand to the stairwell against the wall. “And you can go that way,” he nodded to the rest of the store behind you. “Do you remember what we need?”

“A-A tent. Tarp. Duffle bags. Trash bags.” You began.

“A solar-powered portable heater and a solar-powered power generator if we can find any. More blankets and thermal clothes.” He finished. 

“O-Okay.” With a single, short kiss goodbye, the two of you split.

The store, without its fluorescent lights and customer-created white noise, was disorienting to say the least. You were already living a nightmare, but this made you feel like you were taking part in a horror movie. It felt as if death was waiting for you just a couple of steps ahead, just out of sight, hidden in the darkness. 

Your vision adjusted quickly, though it didn’t stop you from wishing you had a flashlight. Thankfully, finding thermal clothes and duffle bags were an easy find, and you stuffed as many as you could into your duffle. 

“Generators. Heaters. Tents,” you mumbled under your breath, taking care to keep focused (and not look at the floor) as you made yourself venture deeper into the store.

“Flashlights,” you murmured in relief when you saw some.

“Generators. Heaters. Tents.” You began to repeat again like a mantra. 

While the flashlight was a relief, it made it harder to dismiss the streaks of blood on the floor and splattered onto the merchandise.

You were approaching the back half of the store, when between boxes of shoes and workout equipment when you felt the world freeze around you. 

Pools of dried blood stained the floor under their undead feet, and the stench of decay permeated the air. You gagged, hands flying to cover your mouth in an attempt to keep yourself from crying out as you backed away.

Unaware of the steps you were taking, you slipped on a patch of fresher blood. You yelped as you lost your balance, and if that weren’t enough, you took down a display of shoe spray. 

The result was instant. It was almost like they were machines by the way their heads snapped up as if they’d just been powered on. 

You screamed as they turned around, glazed eyes training on you as you scrambled to get up. They lurched forward and you backward. 

Finally, on your feet, you raced in the opposite direction, feet following the path you had taken to get there in the first place. You were nearing the stairwell when you caught sight of Chan stumbling down it, a horde of his own zombies after him.

“Run!” He yelled when he saw you. “Get out! Run! Hurry!”

The glass outside was inconsequential as you ran, even as you fell and it dug itself into your hands. 

In the light of the setting sun, you could nearly delude yourself into thinking you were hallucinating. 

Behind you, though, Chan fired a gun at the horde. 

Your nonstop screams only added to the chaos around him. 

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” He spit as he missed his mark yet again. 

Though he wanted to take out his knifebrella, he accepted that it would be futile against the horde after the two of you. Realizing he was getting nowhere, he took off running behind you. 

“Through the grove!” He yelled, narrowly avoiding the hand reaching for him.

The sun set as the two of you ran through the grove, stumbling over raised blocks of cement and fallen branches. You’d taken two steps outside before you were almost killed, and a bright light enveloped your forms, a screeching of tires forcing you to a stop. 

“Chan!” Someone yelled.

“Get inside! Hurry!” A second, deeper voice yelled, and a moment later, a flatter screeching sounded above the groans of the undead. 

When neither of you moved (Chan too stunned at the appearance of his friends), one of the owners of the voices jumped out from the light and grabbed the two of you, pulling into the light and-- 

You blinked. A long, yellow school bus rested before you.

“Seungcheol. Jeonghan.” Chan finally spoke. You could tell he was trying to keep his composure, but as he said their names, his voice faltered. 

“In. In,” Seungcheol insisted, pushing you inside. 

Jeonghan smiled thinly, unshed tears lining his eyes, “I told you I’d find him.” 

“My apologies.” Seungcheol huffed and after ushering the two of you past Jeonghan, pulled a lever at the base of the driver’s seat to close the doors. 

“Move!” A third voice suddenly yelled. “They’re coming!”

“Seungkwan!”

“If we die, I’m killing you first, you martyring bastard!” 

“Everyone sit down!” Seungcheol ordered the lot as the bus lurched forward. 

You gasped as you fell onto one of the seats, catching only a brief glance at who you guessed was Seungkwan. 

“How did you even find us?” Chan asked when he stood up again.

Jeonghan, leaning against the seat across from you, lifted a book into the air. “The XXXX Updated Travel--”

“You used a travel guide?!” Disbelief was all you could really feel.

“You must be Y/N.” 

You nodded.

“I’m Jeonghan. It’s nice to meet you. Thanks for taking care of Chan again.” 

You shook your head, “He took care of me.” 

“Wait. Wait.” Chan interrupted moving up to stand beside you, behind Seungcheol’s driving seat. “Where are we going?” 

“To find the others.” 

“We’ve got to go back.” 

“What?” Seungcheol snapped. 

Chan pointed southeast of the way Seungcheol was driving. “We need to go back. To our car. We need our things!” 

“Your things?!” 

“We had food!” Chan snapped. “Medecine. Bandages. Clothes. Supplies!” 

“This better be worth it,” Seungcheol snapped, jerking the wheel for a right turn.

“I’ll tell you when we’re close.”

Satisfied, Chan plopped down and turned to look at you. Finally taking in your appearance, his eyes widened.

Your smile was wobbly at best. “I take it you didn’t find any of the things we needed? I found the du-duffle bags and c-clothes.”

He stood up, and though you couldn’t see his mouth, you knew it was hanging open. 

“It’s--It’s not my blood.” 

Wordlessly, he threw his arms around you and hugged you. After a while, you thought he was letting you go to sit down again, but rather than that, he leaned into you to give you a long kiss. 

“Oh,” Jeonghan said from the other seat, “Interesting. Very interesting.”

Chan sighed, pressing his forehead against yours. “Turn left here.”

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fin | masterlist 

[askatrigenderlgbt]

Marvel Prompt!

(It was supposed to be just a regular day. Everything was perfect and peaceful, the heros could relax, and some could catch up on work that needed to be done. Then a rouge enchantress had to detonate an entire street to burst into flames. The Avengers rushed out quickly, Loki warnes being careful to avoid the flames as it is magical.

The battle was tough, the witch being tactical and an excellent fighter. Eventually though, the enchantress was cornered, there was no where to escape or much magic left to rely on. In a last desperate attempt to gain victory, she throws a spell out hitting three of the Avengers. Steve, Clint, and Loki were flung back and landed a few meters away. Despite that, it seemed like nothing happened, no mind control or hindering effect presenting itself. The witch howled with anger.)

Enchantress: *Furious* HOW?! You should be under my control, be hopelessly in love with me! How did you reject my magic so easily!?

Clint: *snorting* Yeah... No, you may look good but you are not my type.

Loki: *bemused* You also have a horrid attitude and personality. I don't know how anyone could fall for a wretch like you.

Steve: *amused* Sorry ma'am, but I already have someone else I'm looking at.

(It was Steve's words that froze the Enchantress. Genuine love for another person negates the spell she used, instead of being in control of them it is the person who they are in love with who shall have control. They will be loyal only to them, willing to to anything to protect that person.

Enchantress knew she had nothing on her side and had finally lost this battle. With her last bit of magic, however, she fired one last blast of magic at the closest Avenger. It was Tony. He couldn't move in time to avoid it, couldn't even react in time to raise his arms, he could only process the magic coming towards him.

Tony was shielded by magic, a forest green color he had become so familiar with. Loki was standing before him before he could blink. The god was pissed.)

Loki: *Wrathful* YOU DARE ATTACK MY LOVE?! YOU SHALL PAY!

(Loki wasn't the one to lash out though, it was Clint whom pinned the witch to the wall using his arrows. Steve had thrown his shield when the initial blast had been thrown, causing the witch to stumble. Now, Steve had retrieved his shield, walking towards her, pulled out magic restraining cuffs. Clint had rushed to Tony's side after he made sure she wouldn't be moving anytime soon.)

Clint: *Concerned* Tony! She didn't get you anywhere, any pain?

Tony: *Confused* What? No, she didn't get me at all. Lokes here had stepped in fast enough to shield me from harm.

Steve: *Serious* You better be telling the truth Tony, none of us like seeing you hurt. I've called Fury to come pick up the villain, so we'll be starting clean up pretty soon.

(Tony was so terribly confused about what was going on. It was normal for the Avengers to be protective with each other, but never had any of them had the sudden speed or feral behavior that the trio were showing. Then it clicked for Tony. The magic, it made sense now why they hadn't been mind controlled. They already were in love, and Tony knew that the 'ones' who they loved was him alone.

It didn't make sense to him, he denied it and tried to come up with a different answer. The truth couldn't be ignored. Loki, Clint, and Steve were giving him looks of fondness. Looks you'd see couples giving each other.

The nail in the coffin was their eyes. What should be their normal eye colors were replaced with Cupid pink, and almost seemed to sparkle with hearts inside the iris.)

Tony: *Hesitatent* Are you guys okay?

Loki: Of course, as if a cheap parlor magician could hurt me. If anything, I fear she's more dangerous to you due to her cunning wits of fighting.

Clint: *proud* Not a single scratch on me, Tony! The witch may have magic and technique on her side but I'm clearly superior in combat.

Steve: I'm alright, Tony. I am more worried about you than myself right now.

(Tony was flustered. He wasn't used to being cared for, nor was he ready to learn that three Avengers were in love with him. It didn't help that Tony had no idea how to fix this mess. He only knew that he was so screwed.)

[im-not-corrupted]

A Chance Encounter - a pre-slash Dream/Hob fic

Teen & Up | No Warnings Apply | 2.1k | Dream & Hob

When Dream decided to run away from home, he made a couple of less than ideal decisions. Now he’s stranded, alone and hungry, with nowhere to go and nobody to aid him.

Enter Hob Gadling: the truck driver who nearly runs him over, and offers him a ride out of guilt and concern.

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Human, Hitchhiking, Angst, Near Death Experiences, Pre-Slash, Dream nearly gets hit by Hob’s truck, Hob feels very guilty about that, Cheap Motels, Dream abandons any sense of stranger danger for food and a bed, i don’t blame him, Good Friend Hob Gadling

Written for the @dreamlingbingo, with @samsalami66! Fills square B1, Cheap Motel.

Read on Ao3 here, or read the full fic below the cut!

The night was cold. 

Silent. 

Dark. 

None of which were things Dream was particularly happy about as he stood at the side of a road, a backpack containing exactly one change of clothes, two protein bars, what he might’ve underestimated to be enough cash, and a half empty bottle of water marking his only belongings in this world. 

Suboptimal, his elder sister would say. 

Dream would rather call it idiotic, or the thing that happens when one does not get to plan a decision thoroughly beforehand, or, even better, the reason why one does not make spontaneous decisions.

For naught, all of it. He was here now, a rebellious man-child fled from the confines of his luxurious home, left to die alone in the wilderness. 

The wilderness, as in: a road Dream did not know the direction of, a forest he was unfamiliar with, and no town to be seen for at least another few kilometers. And, God, was he tired. Exhausted, down to the bone. The soles of his feet hurt with every step he forced himself to take along the pavement. 

He would die. Surely, Dream would die out there, a nice and filling meal for the lucky wildlife of this forest, who wouldn't even have to hunt him to chew some meagre flesh from his very dead bones. Or perhaps some unlucky truck driver would find his dead body lying on the side of the street, just before he could provide anyone with a filling meal. 

Poor guy. Finding a body must be traumatising. He would rather not traumatise anyone with his death. 

That. Would be suboptimal. 

Dream sighed deeply, and his stomach responded with a low rumble, a reminder of the food he hadn't eaten in a few days. "I know. I know. We need food. An actual meal." 

Another rumble, which ended on a higher note, almost squeaky. With a lot of imagination – and Dream had nothing if not a blooming fantasy, a mind fit for the creation of the impossible – it sounded like a question. Though perhaps this thought was bordering on insane, even for his wild imagination. 

He answered anyway. There wasn't much else left to do. 

"I do not know where we get food from! I see as much as you do." 

Another rumble, to which he rolled his eyes. His stomach was being particularly difficult today. 

"I am aware that you cannot see anything—oh bloody hell!" Dream cried out as a truck skirted around him with squeaking tires and came to a grinding halt only a few meters before him. The side only missed him by a few centimeters, and it took every bit of his willpower to keep the trembling of his limbs under control as he realised just how close this truck came to hitting him. 

God, wouldn't that have been an end to his journey? Caught between the tires of a sixteen-tonner, just to have what was left of him to be picked out with a stick and washed off at the next gas station, never to be seen or heard from again? 

Bile rose at the back of his throat as the images of his near-fate crossed his mind over and over again, the lights of the truck in the absolute darkness made his head spin. Perhaps he should sit down? 

"Fuck, hey, I'm so sorry about that!" a voice suddenly came from his left that made him almost jump out of his skin. “Are you alright?”

A man stood by the left of the vehicle that nearly took him out, staring at him with obvious concern. At least, Dream thought that was concern—it was a little hard to tell, for the truck’s headlights were the only source of light, and the man stood before them.

It took him a moment to regain the use of his tongue, to nod once hesitantly. He didn’t know this person, and there was some amount of anxiety to be found there. He was alone, in the dark, with a stranger he didn’t know and no food. It was entirely possible he would die there, that the driver’s reflexes saved him from one awful death only for the man himself to be responsible for his end anyway.

“I am. Fine,” he said. It came out tense, terse. Blunt, even, and he hardly cared. Perhaps this person would leave him be, if he was blunt and rude and everything his parents hated about him. Perhaps he could continue on his way, alone and starving, but alive for a little longer.

“Are you sure?” he pressed. He didn’t seem bothered by the rudeness of Dream’s reply, instead stepping forward once. He remained still when Dream flinched unwillingly. “Christ, love, are you alone out here?”

He was. He was alone, and perhaps hadn’t quite realised how alone until this man began to talk to him. The night was isolating, the dark and the wilds stretching for miles in every direction. Though Dream didn’t know what the time was exactly, the moon hung high, and he hadn’t seen any activity on this road for miles—it felt a little like a miracle that this man stood before him now.

He glared at the man across from him, willing the anxiety down. It was of little help here. “Maybe,” he said slowly. He couldn’t very well say no—it was quite clearly a lie, but confirming just how alone he found himself would be an admittance of weakness. A foolish one at that, too. “What’s it to you?”

To his surprise, the man laughed. Dream decided madness truly had dug its roots in him as soon as he thought the man’s laugh sounded lovely. Joyful. The kind of laugh that didn’t take much effort to imagine what it’d sound like unrestrained, a laugh made to be loud. Made to be heard. “Fair enough,” he said wryly, and Dream watched as he rubbed a hand over his face. “Look. You’re—alone out here, and that’s…not great, love. I almost hit you with my fucking truck—still sorry about that, by the way—and I feel a little responsible for you now. So. Do you need a ride? As an apology for nearly hitting you.”

There were many ways this could go, Dream thought. The man could drive off wherever he wanted with him in his fucking truck, and that would be it, wouldn’t it? There were enough horror stories about hitchhiking that he knew the price he could pay for agreeing to such a deal—a deal that was, ultimately, rather suspicious, considering Dream was uninjured and had nothing to give him for such a favour.

Yet, while he was very much ready to say no, his stomach decided to join in once more, letting out a low groan of agreement. It hurt, too, and—consequences be damned. He needed to eat. He did.

After his stomach made up his mind, he said—awkwardly, stiltedly—“I would. Appreciate that.”

“Great!” the man exclaimed.

Despite every amount of logic telling him this was a truly stupid decision—perhaps the worst one he’d made, and he made many stupid decisions over the years, if his eldest sister was to be believed—Dream still stepped forward when the man beckoned him to. Still climbed into the truck, sitting tensely in the passenger seat as the other man climbed behind the wheel.

They could see each other properly, now. The lights inside the truck weren’t great, but it let Dream see the kindness the man looked at him with, the slight grimace in his lips. “Well. First of all—I’m Hob. Second: where are you off to, mate?”

“Anywhere with food,” he said. His stomach agreed again, and he was too tired to care if the man—Hob—could hear it. Then with a frown, he added, “And. Perhaps a bed.”

A bed sounded lovely. A bed sounded ideal, actually, and now that he suggested it, he was glad he did. He’d like to sleep. Preferably for the next ten years, or the next twenty, but he’d settle for seven hours if he had to.

Hob’s brows rose high on his head. He glanced down at the bag sat next to Dream’s feet, a flicker of understanding flashing through his eyes. “Ah,” he said, with sympathy that would’ve made him bristle if he had any more energy than he did. “Some food, then. And a nice bed.”

“Please.”

“On it, boss.” Hob started the truck again, and the engine came to life with a roar. Sooner than Dream could keep up with, they were on the road, with him gripping onto his seat belt with white knuckles and anxiety running through every one of his veins, and Hob making idle conversation he didn’t have the ability to listen to.

+++

Hob, Dream soon found out, was a gentleman.

He drove the two of them over to a cheap motel. It was the kind of place Dream wouldn’t have been seen at, before—the kind of place one went to in order to keep a low profile.

It made him a tad uneasy, but he had been in a perpetual state of uneasiness since climbing inside Hob’s truck, so he shrugged and figured he might as well. If it was to be his end, then he gave it a good go, didn’t he? Didn’t matter if nothing truly came out of this trip. That, and the promise of food and a bed—perhaps not a decent one, but a bed all the same—was too much for him to pass up.

Hob bought his room for him.

For the both of them, technically.

“It’s a rough area ‘round here,” he told Dream evenly. It didn’t disguise the concern that lurked beneath his voice since they first met, though. Dream didn’t know whether to be offended by it or honoured—he also didn’t have the ability to figure that out. “And you aren’t exactly prepared for that, mate. I—I don’t mean this in a weird way or whatever, but it doesn’t sit well with me knowing you’re alone out here. I’d like to stay with you—separate beds and everything, I promise—if you were amenable.”

He tensed. Stared at Hob blankly and said, “I have no need for you coming to my defence. Not do I have use for your pity, Hob.”

“Not pity. Just concern for a fellow citizen of this country, yeah?” He smiled, and that smile felt a little like stepping into the light of the sun after being trapped in the dark for too long.

Dream didn’t quite know what to do with it, with the light and the genuine care. It left him feeling—a little lost, if he were being honest.

In the end, he agreed.

Which was how he found himself here—in a shitty bed, inside a shitty motel room Hob rented for him. (Despite the promise of two beds, Hob currently slept on the couch. Not enough double bed rooms in a place like this—he could only grab a single room, and quickly exiled himself to the shitty couch. Like Dream said, a gentleman.) His stomach was pleasantly full, and it was enough to keep some of the anxiety tangling in his stomach away.

Some, not all. Hob snored on the couch, and Dream stared at the ceiling, all too aware of his presence. Too aware of the fact that, ultimately, Dream didn’t belong here, in cheap motels by himself with too little money to his name, relying on a stranger who nearly killed him with his truck for simple luxuries like food and a bed.

He wasn’t made for this. He really wasn’t. Running away seemed like a decent idea when faced with the idea of remaining with his family for too long a time.

Now, Dream was exhausted. And lost. He didn’t know what his destination was, or if he even had one. He didn’t know what he was meant to do.

All of that was really just confirmation of everything his family believed him to be. He truly was useless, unable to take care of himself. Spent too long relying on the money that came with status, spent too long comfortable.

Perhaps he’d ask Hob to join him on the rest of his journey in the morning. Perhaps Hob would even agree, and Dream might not be quite so…lost.

Perhaps.

He rolled over in the bed, pulling the sheets up to his neck, and sighed softly. His eyes slipped shut and he breathed in slowly, deeply, before exhaling.

Tomorrow. He’d—he’d ask tomorrow.

[moni-logues]

I was tagged by Jaaaade @eoieopda! and I am going to tag literally everyone, even if you don't write, if you see this, you have to participate!!!!!!!! because I say so!!!!!!

rules: post 3 snippets from published work, and 3 from your wips

Iiiiii am not sure I actually HAVE 3 wips with actual writing in them??? 😬😬😬 there's a whole lot of notes lmao but I'll see what I can find

This is from a WIP based on a short Missed Connections style post by @jhopegrandma that I was planning to turn into a fic (with permission):

“Buster!” A final cry before he leapt into the pond, sending the poor birds flying with raucous cries of alarm. He swam confidently after them – he was a retriever after all, this was his job – and you stood on the edge of the pond, unable to get him back. You shook the bag of treats high above your head, still calling for him, offering him food, but he acted as if he hadn’t heard you, swimming further and further out.  “You need to go in and get him!” a middle-aged man told you sternly, pointing after Buster.  “I can’t swim,” you admitted weakly, face burning.  “It’s just a pond, girl; it won’t be deep!”   “Dogs aren’t allowed in the water,” another voice popped up, full of admonition.  “This is a wildlife conservation site!” Yet another. “Dogs are supposed to be under control here!”  “You’re going to have to get him somehow.”  You were panicking. You didn’t know what you were supposed to do. You couldn’t go in after him: who knew how deep the water was, what was underneath the surface? You couldn’t swim and water terrified you; there was no way you were getting in there after him and if you weren’t going in, there was nothing else you could do. You just had to wait, mortified, paralysed with embarrassment, on the edge of the pond, for him to come back to you.   You noticed movement a couple of meters away and before you could register what was happening, a hand grabbed the bag of treats from you and a man was wading into the pond, calling for your dog. At the unfamiliar voice, Buster turned around, and, miraculously (although you were also slightly annoyed by it) started to swim towards this strange man. He continued to wade out to meet your dog, the water rising up his chest, soaking his T-shirt, but not getting deep enough for him to have to swim. As soon as Buster was within arm’s reach, he shoved the bag of treats in the dog’s face and grabbed his collar. Dragging gently, he turned around and made his slow way back out of the pond.   It wasn’t until you were right up next to him, fumbling with the lead clip on Buster’s collar that you realised. Your eyes flicked up and your stomach lurched, heart leaping into your mouth. It was him. His eyes widened in recognition, too, and he laughed. 

THIS is from a fic I started writing in FEBRUARY that was due to be posted in JUNE for M's @here2bbtstrash birthday (🙈🙈🙈) and is still wildly unfinished:

“I loved it, baby. You know I love watching you dance.”  A third kiss and it made you tremble.  “I’m glad you liked it. I’m glad I moved. This company is... a better fit.”  “I agree. You’re finally being treated like you deserve. And the other dancers, too, way better than the old company.”   And there he was. In your head as he had been in front of your eyes earlier in the evening. Jung Hoseok. Powerful. Liquid. Focused. You squeezed your thighs together on instinct and Jimin cocked a brow at you.  “Hey! I know that look. Which ‘other dancer’ in particular do you think is so good?” He narrowed his eyes at you and you squirmed, a deep blush creeping onto your cheeks, a petulant whine hidden in your mouth shut up tight.  “Come on,” he goaded, poking you in the side. “Tell me! Tell me!”  You stood, pouting, flicking glances at him and then looking away just as quickly.  “Hoseok.”  Jimin laughed and ran a hand through his hair.  “Hoseok is a very good dancer.”  “It’s not even that, though!” you exclaimed. “He’s just so... It’s.... His body and his... The way he... I just...”   You just couldn’t finish any of those thoughts. You couldn’t be coherent about what you had seen, how it had made you feel. Your chest was heaving with excitement already; you had been made giddy and breathless by him.   “Well now I’m starting to feel like I should be getting a little jealous.” Jimin fixed you with a cute performative pout and it was your turn to laugh. “No, I love you and I love watching you dance but the thing is I can watch you dance and I already know how you fuck, I already get to do that... but Hoseok... I’ve never fucked Hoseok.”  “Well,” he mused, “speaking as someone who has fucked Hoseok, you’re not missing much.” 

This is from a long-dead collab fic that will probably never see the light of day, so I probably shouldn't post lol but I wasn't kidding when I said I didn't think I had three WIPs with actual writing in them:

Once upon a time, there was a girl, who lived with her brother, mother, and father in a village, deep in a valley between two high hills. It was a little village and a peaceful valley and she passed her days playing with the cattle or the dogs or her brother when she had worn down his patience with nagging. They were removed from the existential troubles of the kingdom, untouched by changes in ruler or dynasty; their days moved to the rhythms of the nature, the cycle of the seasons.   Until, one day, men came from over the sea. They travelled downstream, razing everything as they went. They came in big boats and and big boots and tore the village asunder. By the time the men moved on, there was little left but scorched earth. Scorched earth and a handful of bodies with a little life left in them yet.   “We can’t take her with us,” one elder said, after a few days had passed and those who were going to die had died and only those who would survive were left. “Look at her.”  “She’s one of us,” a young mother protested, weeping as she had been for days. “We can’t leave her.”  “Look at her,” he insisted. “She hasn’t even woken up yet; we have to move on and we cannot carry her. And then what happens when we make it to the next village? They’ll take one look at her and send us packing!”  “She’s burnt. She’s injured-”  “We’re all injured! She’s disfigured; they will never accept us. They’ll think we’re hiding the pox.”   “We don’t have the strength or resources to care for her, to carry her with us. She may not even make it through the night and we will have struggled for what? For nothing?”  “For her! For her life. Life means something!”  “Does it?! Look around you! It’s death! There is only death here!”  The argument raged on until the sun was high in the sky. They would have to move on if they were to stand a chance of making it to another settlement before nightfall. They stood in a semi-circle, a tiny band of broken survivors, and looked down at the sleeping girl: her face livid and blistered, a deep, red fissure carved across her left eye. She was swollen and bruised, dark purple and black where she wasn’t fire-red and stripped-flesh pink.   They left her behind. 

ESTABLISHED FIC:

Obviously I'm going to post from Three's Company because, sorry to toot my horn, but that shit is SLEPT ON:

But that didn’t mean he got to have all the fun. You pressed against his side and he broke from Jimin to look down at you, gleeful and sparkly. So fucking cute. You’d intended to look at Jimin, to tease him, to play his trick back at him, but Jungkook scrunched his nose and you instantly forgot about anything else. You lifted yourself onto your tiptoes and gave him his second kiss. You were pressed between two warm bodies now; hot and getting hotter, with Jungkook’s tongue soft and wet against your own, Jimin’s trailing down the slope of your neck. You shivered as he grazed his lips over your skin.  “Shit,” you whispered when Jungkook broke away.   “Having fun, princess?” Jimin whispered back, his voice so close, so low.   Jungkook slipped his hands beneath your top and you shivered at his touch, only able to offer a quiet hum as an answer.   It was quiet and still as Jungkook relieved you of your T-shirt and you felt a little of the edginess return as you all slowly stripped yourselves. Your heart was hammering as you slipped your skirt down over your hips and you felt the little bridges between you sway precariously.  You held Jimin’s wrist gently as he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled his hand away so you could do it for him, so you could push it off his shoulders and let it float to the floor. Jungkook, observant and such a fast learner, already kicking off his trousers, approached and then hesitated as he reached out for Jimin’s belt buckle. But it was better this way, even still quiet, even still a little unsure, you crossed the rope bridges between you and let the clothes fall where they may.  

 This is from The Comeback:

And there you were. Lying on your back, naked as the day you were born, floating on the surface of the lake. You had your eyes closed, luxuriating in the heat of the sun – it was still early, but the summer was a scorcher. The warmth of the surrounding land let little breezes flutter over you, breaking the glassy surface of the water into a hundred thousand diamonds. Your brilliance was almost blinding. Jimin stared, unable to take his eyes off you. He was stirred at the sight of your bare body: your nipples pert and hard from the cold water, the smooth expanse of your torso, the dark thatch of hair at the crux of your thighs. He was stirred but he was also moved by you, this vision of you. He hadn’t intended to stare. He didn’t know anyone else was up. He had just wanted to sit and drink his first coffee of the day, looking out onto the lake. For half a second when he first spotted you, he was going to turn back inside, preserve your modesty, but then that half-second passed and he couldn’t tear his eyes away.   You looked so at peace: a tiny, beatific smile on your face as your hair fanned out behind you, as you leisurely kicked first one leg and then the other. As much as he wanted you – and he wanted you badly – there wasn’t anything that could have compelled him at that moment to disturb your revery. He just wanted to watch you. Then you opened your eyes and turned your head just slightly, looking right at him. Your glance struck him like lightning and-   “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”  Jimin groaned as he came, more suddenly than he had expected, his fingers still thrumming on her clit, her cunt still clutching him tight. Blessed relief washed over him as he realised he’d got away with it; she needn’t suspect a thing.  

And uh, sure, let's pick something from Thirteen Rounds which is what like, 13k of straight-up pwp??? lmaooo:

“If you even think about teasing me,” you gasp out. “I will fucking murder you.”  He laughs and kisses your inner thigh.   “You over-estimate my self-control, love. I’m at my fucking limit.”  And with not another word said, he dives straight in, licking a broad stripe from core to clit and moaning lasciviously as he does. You’re already so sensitive, whining and whimpering as he sucks and slurps at you, his face buried so far into your crotch, you don’t know if he can breathe. Almost immediately, you’re cresting, arching off the sofa, thighs clamping together on Jungkook’s head as a streak of hot pleasure surges through you and fresh arousal gushes over his face.   He brings his hands to your thighs and forces them apart without breaking contact with your cunt. He doesn’t stop, no matter how you squirm; you can’t catch your breath to tell him you’re over-stimulated, to beg him to stop, to give you a second’s break. A scream breaks in your throat as he pushes three fingers inside you and you’re seeing stars. He finally takes his mouth from you and breathes heavily against you, his breath sending sprinkles of goosebumps across your skin. He curls his fingers inside you and then tips your hips just slightly, suddenly hitting the perfect spot. You’re incoherent, animal, as you moan and whimper, stuttering to another orgasm under his ministrations.   You don’t have to find a way to ask him to remove his fingers as the waves of your orgasm roll through you but just as you are about to breathe a sigh of relief, his mouth is back on you. He’s gentle this time, more patient. He kisses your lips, licks through your folds slowly, moaning, his brows knitting together because it’s been so long since he’s tasted you and there’s nothing he’d ever rather eat. He buries his tongue in your hole, bumping your clit with his nose; if it were anyone else, it might be accidental, but you know Jungkook knows your body perfectly and knows exactly what he's doing. You’re raw, over-wrought, dehydrated. Your vision swims and your voice gets stuck in your throat, able only to gasp and stutter, not even able to scream his name out loud as you scream it in your head. Your hands tremble, one pushing back the hair on your head, the other finding its way to Jungkook’s hair, tangling there as if you could even dream of giving him direction right now.   His eyes flick to yours and they’re black, pupils dilated, lids fluttering quickly to a close again as he moans, vibrating lips sealing around your screamingly sensitive clit. Your hand pulls sharply at his hair, but he doesn’t even seem to notice. You feel like every atom in your body has been electrified, every touch, every movement – yours or his – sending sparks straight to your core, where they’re churned up into a tight ball. Like the death of a star, your body collapses in on itself, contracting and tightening as you are reduced to little more than a silent scream, and then explodes, a supernova of ecstasy exploding within you, scattering bits of you all over the room.  When you open your eyes, you can see stars wherever you look, which isn’t far because you can’t find it within you to move a single muscle.