#( i wanna jump into the ocean tbh

[stomach-bugg09]

loved your recent with fali and y/n…maybe something where they get caught intensely kissing by jake and neytiri😫 i feel like y/n is very similar to neytiri so she likes to be sarcastic and teasing towards fali (lowk bullying him BUT IN AN ENDEARING WAY) :)) and he just soaks it up.

summary: jake a neytiri walk in on [y/n] and fali during a very intimate moment, and [y/n] doesn’t pass the opportunity up to tease fali.

a/n: AHH !! THIS WAS SO CUTE !! I WANNA CRY I LOVE THEM I LOVE THIS !! okay thank you so much for requesting this, you have fed the fluff and adorable necessity inside my soul. feedback + reblogs are always appreciated !!

tags: @pinkhotdogsfr @wxnderingthoughts @bonnibuckets @hjshshjkhklhkl @liyahsocorro

warnings: so cute, so very cute, neytiri and jake walking in on a makeout session, [y/n] feeling comfy enough to be a lil jokester, couple goals, family goals, just goals in general, adorable, crying because it’s cute, neytiri and jake joking about being “safe” iykwim, the cheesiest final sentence ever, i think that’s it tbh

red handed

things were moving fast. too fast. and yet, [y/n] couldn’t get enough. she couldn’t keep her hands off of him, and he couldn’t keep himself away from her. fali couldn’t even bring himself to take his eyes off of her. she was far too beautiful.

the sand was hot. as [y/n]’s lips roamed his body—his mouth, his neck, his chest—she could feel his cold hands holding onto her hips. fali’s grip was tight, unmoving. he couldn’t get enough of her.

fali was sat up against a rock, its jagged edges digging into his skin. it was worth it, though. on top of him sat [y/n], her legs straddling his lower body. as he held her in place, her soft hands cradled his head, pressing their faces together.

besides the sound of the ocean crashing against the other side of the rock they were hidden behind, all fali could hear was his heart beat. it took over his senses, kept his awareness heightened at every moment.

it’d just been moments before. moments before when the two walked the beach alongside the children, laughing as ao’nung challenged lo’ak to a race. neteyam balanced tuk on his shoulders, jumping into the waves as their laughter echoed for miles. tsireya and kiri watched lo’ak and ao’nung, their heads shaking in disappointment, but even they could not hide their laughter and amusement.

fali and [y/n]’d been holding hands as they strolled, feet sinking into the wet sand. [y/n] was running her thumb up and down along the backside of her lover’s hand, feeling his scars and scabs from the years of war and training. she couldn’t help but find them beautiful—marks that each had their own unique story.

as she felt over his skin, [y/n] couldn’t help but let her gaze travel. she looked up his arm, eyes scanning his muscular biceps, a smirk surfacing onto her lips as she thought about just hours before when those same arms held her throughout the night.

eventually, her stare reached his broad shoulders. they were built and extremely strong. she barely even thought before her free hand was reaching out, softly brushing overtop his skin, pointer tracing the marks that’d once been cuts. [y/n] barely even noticed as they slowed their walking to a stop.

silence consumed them as fali turned, staring at her gorgeous face as she was occupied with feeling every scar on his body. he inhaled sharply as she trailed up his neck, outlining his jawline.

a thumb gently brushed over the stripe of healed flesh that scarred the right side of her face. he closed his eyes, sinking into her hand’s warmth.

[y/n] didn’t dare move her palm from where it carefully braced his head, but she let her thumb travel the slightest bit, stroking the dip between his nose and cheek. when he opened his eyes again, a soft smile graced her lips.

[y/n] let herself untangle her other hand’s fingers from the grasp of fali, bringing it upwards and towards his face, mirroring the same actions just on the opposite cheek.

fali stood, staring at her with eyes that held absolute awe and wonder for how he was able to win enough of eywa’s favor to bless him with her. it was when her leaned in to kiss her that the yearning—the necessity to touch her, to kiss her—began.

she held his face, he held her hips. their lips were fit to perfection, as if they were made to be together. and they most definitely were. when fali’s hand began to trail up her back… well, [y/n] broke the kiss, dragging him behind her as they resumed behind the rock.

and now, they sat there breathlessly in love. and she would not have it any other way. plus, it kept the kids from witnessing it. ( but, come on, let’s be real—tsireya and kiri definitely watched the entire thing unfold and as soon as they disappeared, they ran to tell everyone. )

the couple was so wrapped up in their adoration, their love, for each other, [y/n] thought to herself, nothing could ruin this. apparently, eywa took this as a challenge.

because, just as [y/n] broke the kiss with a smile, attempting to catch her breath, her ears flicked at the sound of a familiar, “tsk tsk.” fali’s mortified eyes immediately sent her turning around. the two figures that stood behind them made her heart drop.

“mom.” her voice was quiet, a hiss evident in her voice as she cringed at the situation. “dad.” that one sent fali over the edge of embarrassment. not only were they caught kissing very intimately, but they were caught by his girlfriend’s parents. could it get any worse? ( yes. )

“good evening, child.” at her mother’s smirk, [y/n] shook her head and turned back to look at fali. with a huff of air, she pushed herself up, standing up from where she previously sat on top of him. oh, eywa.

jake cleared his throat, fighting the teasing smile on his face. a few months ago, yeah, he would have been pissed. but, after countless events in which fali had not only saved the lives of his children, but also kept his oldest daughter happy, he didn’t mind the two. in fact, he completely encouraged the relationship. it was… cute. “looks like you two had fun.”

“please leave.” [y/n] held her face in her hands, now sat down with her legs crossed right next to fali. he remained silent, unable to speak as his face was far too indigo and heart far too fast.

neytiri laughed at her daughter, a joyful smile taking control of her features. she, like jake, was a full supporter of [y/n] and fali. not only was he kind, respectful, but he was an amplifier of her daughter’s abilities. neytiri’s favorite version of [y/n] was the version where she was not only happy, but strong. a strong woman meant strong babies, and strong babies meant a strong future.

“you aren’t doing anything… unsafe, are you?”

“mom!” [y/n] groaned, dropping her chin to her chest in embarrassment. a few beats of silence and then, “we would never do it on the beach.”

fali’s eyes widened at that as both parents barked laughter. their faces were full of shock—never had their daughter so much… character! it was now fali’s turn to cover his face with his hands, but no amount of coverage could hide the blush the crept down his neck.

“but,” [y/n] sighed, smiling at fali’s embarrassment ( mission accomplished ). “if you must know, we were merely kissing—”

“that’s more than just kissing,” her father pointed out. fali wanted to dig a hole in the sand to die in.

[y/n] waved her hand in dismissal. “more than just kissing, not enough to be considered anything else.” she smacked fali with her tail. “wouldn’t you say?”

“i hate you.”

the trio of sullys burst into laughter. “oh, you are too sensitive, fali. if you can’t handle the idea of our intimacy being public, how ever will we announce the day in which we are officially mated?”

“oh my eywa,” fali groaned, amusement and distress evident in his eyes once he finally uncovered them. “i am leaving.”

just as he attempted to stand up, [y/n] whined. “no! do not leave.” he jokingly huffed as he sat back down on the sand. “now you two,” she said, turning back to her parents. “you two are more than dismissed. you ruined a perfectly fine kiss.”

neytiri gave her a look. “kiss?”

“—ing session. kissing session. is that better?”

the sully parents only laughed, turning around to walk away. but, just before they could get too far, neytiri turned back around and loudly whispered, “stay safe. i do not need a grandchild.”

“goodbye, mother!”

as her parents walked away in the distance, [y/n] settled a smile on her face. she turned to fali, her hand grabbing his ear teasingly.

“hey!” he defied, exasperated with her antics. “what is with you today? you are… you are like a child!” fali could not wipe the amused smile off of his lips.

[y/n]’s jaw dropped in mock offense. “i am the child? you are funny for that, fali.” she let go of his ear, but not before smacking him on the head. “you are the one who is scared of my parents.”

“your dad could have beat me up.”

“see, that is a childish fear.”

he laughed, grabbing the girl right above the hips, fingers digging into her ticklish spots. she burst into laughter as they rolled around on the sand.

“you are the child!” they alternated the declaration, words loud but laughter even louder. but, perhaps the loudest of it all was the love they had for each other.

#avatar 2 #avatar the way of water #loak sully #neteyam sully #sully family x reader #sully family x y/n #tuk sully #tuktirey #sully family #kiri sully #sully siblings x reader #sully!reader #fali x reader

[omeletcat]

i made a new design for a type of spirit in my game, i think it kinda looks like a nymph, but they're sort of shadowy spirits, my idea is they can jump into shadows and move freely in there. however i've been rly struggling with putting the spirits in a system of how they work, if they have a soul, where they go when they die and stuff like that, but i feel that the more rules i make for the spirits the less it feels like a magical world, and the more it feels like a boring ass isekai.

i want the spirits to vary their appearance depending on the environment, like the mushroom spirits in a cute lil mushroom town. and the nymphs shown above in their own city's. but then it starts feeling like different fantasy races, instead of 1 group. altho if i want the spirits to be "the spirits" and be one race/species it is hard to give some of them their own unique powers like i wanna do with the nymphs. what if a nymph would fuck a mushroom spirit?? then what??? wouldn't there be random out of context spirits just walking in big towns across the world???

the basic idea of a spirit is a magical creature born in the spirit world, usually humanoid figure with weird features like: abnormal skin tones and body proportions, animal features, just straight up being half of an animal, or being a fully unique idea/concept. spirits themselves are more in tune with magic in the world but the strengh and if they can use magic isn't a standart, most spirits won't have magic like humans in the story do, but they can do stuff that they just can do, like how the nymphs spirits (here i'm doing it again, i'm turning the nymphs into a different race instead of a design for a spirit.) can jump into shadows. that isn't the same as magic from a human and their soul, but something natural to their body's.

essentially what i'm trying to say is im struggling real hard. i have so many idea's and i've lost my vibe i want for the spirits along the way and need to define what they are without breaking the magic of the unique world. the best way to fix these problems: the fact some types of spirits feel like different races, the fact that the spirits would fit their own environment and look and fit the part (like the sea star spirit would be close or in the ocean), but also have unique powers that can vary between different types of spirits.

tbh i think the best reason is not to make any rules and just wing this shit. i can keep breaking my head to find a way to fix these issues and keep it unique and magic, or just make it feel magic. and not put some weird drive for reality into it. its a magical spirit world with talking cats and nymphs. i will try and give some things rules and stuff caus i have to, its what i do. but i'l try and make it as unique and varied as i can. i'l make a post very soon talking more on what the spirits will be and how i will define their presence across the game.

#pixel game #pixel art #pixel illustration #pixelart #game design #coding #indie game dev #game development #game dev update #programming #game dev #game developers #game dev stuff #indiegamedev #game dev blog #indie game #indie dev #sprite art #sprite edit #pixel sprite #my sprites #character redesign #character art #original character #character design #worldbuilding #my writing #writing #on writing #creative writing

[charmixpower]

bloom/valtor, aisha/stella and riven/brandon for the ask game?

Once again I'm not a huge fan of hero/VILLAN ships

I'm not going to talk as long for this one. If just writing that much about Blicy kicked up my hyper empathy to make me start crying I don't wanna know what this is gonna do

Anyways he attempted to genocide her entire planet and thats like my biggest dislike of this ship. That an Valtor would absolutely be manipulating and gaslighting Bloom for the rest of her life

From what I've seen of Winx fics Bloom/Valtor tend to be dark fics (duh, he's pure evil and is only not trying to kill her like everyone else because she's currently useful, and she's already more naive than the average person because she was not born in the magical dimension) and I don't like dark fic! It makes me extremely uncomfortable

I react to fiction a LOT differently due to my over active empathy, I empathize with fictional characters a lot more than a normal person. So you can see why someone with "can't stop imagining themselves in others shoes" disorder would NOT like ships that literally can't not have a huge power imbalance that one party intends to take advantage of to control the other

This ship is why I'm probably gonna overhaul Valtor completely, it's just better for my mental health like this

This ship is so moon themed

Can I just say this is the ultimate ocean couple??? Fairy of liquids and the fairy of sun and moon. Ocean and the moon pushing and pulling the tides!! So cute!!

Tbh they are very cute but I think they're reactions to being famous and raised surrounded by other people with high expectations would cause problems. Stella, obviously, loves the attention, and tries her best to reach the expectations even if she struggles. Aisha jumped out the window and ran away as soon as she cool to avoid more manners classes

These differentiating opinions on being princesses would cause problems. That in they really don't share anything in common?? Like even if you look at Tecna and Flora, they share a love of science in common, but Aisha and Stella really have no middle ground

I don't think it would be impossible for a relationship to start, but it's pull isn't as strong as my other Winx/Winx ships

Btw Stella is number one friend and first to help and Aisha is number one hyper independent much to her determent, and Stella being the first one she accepts help from and then they kiss is rlly cute

BRIVEN

BRIVEN IS IMPORTANT AND EVERYTHING TO ME

1) RIVEN HATES SKY AND RESPECTS BRANDON EVEN WHEN THERE IDENTITIES ARE SWITCHED

2) BRANDON IS ONE OF THE FEW PEOPLE WHO SEEM TO UNDERSTAND HOW THIS DUMBASS THINKS

3) BRANDON DOES FLIRT WITH PEOPLE FOR FUN

4) RIVEN CANT PROCESS A SINGLE EMOTION AND WOULD BE VERY FUNNY TO FLIRT WITH

5) BRANDON HAS A NATURAL RESISTANCE TO RIVEN BULLSHIT

6) RIVEN WOULD BE BEST EQUIPPED TO DEAL WITH AND EMPATHIZE WITH BRANDON'S WHOLE CHILD SOLDIER THING

7) SKY AND TIMMY DON'T LIKE RIVEN SO WHO DO YOU THINK KEEPS INVITING RIVEN TO THINGS??? BRANDON

8) WHATS MORE ROMANTIC THAN KISSING THE FIRST PERSON YOU'VE BEGUN TO TRUST IN A LONG TIME???

20000000/20000000 SHIP, PERFECT, NO NOTES

#winx bloom #winx valtor #winx club #winx stella #winx aisha #winx layla #winx brandon #winx riven #asks #ask game #rus chatters #stella x aisha #Brandon x riven #briven #dealing with my briven shit is the cost of being my follower

[osaemu]

17 for the ask game?

u didnt say for who so im gonna do it for everyone hehe !

17. ideal way to spend time with one another?

dazai — lazy days at home bc we can just . . . do nothing. neither of us ever wanna do somethin if we don't have to , so days where we can don't have people to meet and places to be are perfect ! we just order in food , talk about nothing and nap on the couch together <3

chuuya — after a long day at work , chuuya likes to take me out for a nice evening walk. we talk about our day , and after everything that needs to be said is said , it's just comfortable silence where we just enjoy each other's company. bonus points if we're sharin airpods !

gojo — going to the beach ! we both looove swimmin out into the ocean and relaxing in the waves , and so whenever we can we just spend the day on the sand. he's really fun to go to the beach with bc this guy will literally do anything. wanna build a sand castle? sure! jump over waves? okay! take a nap under the umbrella? he's already gettin a blanket !

geto — okay this is rly random but we just like to go to the mall together. he's actually really fun to go to the mall with bc 1. he actually knows what looks good / doesn't look good and 2. we can both walk around and judge people to our heart's content <3

childe — this is also really random but i think i'd really enjoy going to the zoo with childe. something about him just makes me 100% sure that going to the zoo with him would be super fun ! or an aquarium tbh. whatever it is , it just feels right. i don't have anythin else to say lol it's just my instinct . . .

#✧ — hanzai #✧ — hanchu #✧ — hantoru #✧ — hansugu #✧ — hantaglia #can u see a theme with the ship names ? #its bc putting “nah” at the end of any of the boys' names sounds bad. #like srsly “satonah” “daznah” “chunah” ?? #no way LMAO

[crystalelemental]

"emrylurkeroftheloch: Sorry for the delays, just saw this!!! Arb is mostly being backline, too squishy for the front unfortunately (used to be where the beasts would go). Might try doing some front mortar stuff tho!! Zod/Bucc is mostly for access to limit boost, to be able to turbo out hellfires and the like. Turns out etheric charge into limit boost every other turn makes a mess of most things-- Yggdroid is super fascinating conceptually, I wanna try do a run where I focus on the HP loss??"

Worth a shot, at least? I don't tend to like high-risk high-reward plays, so I can't say I ever gave something like that a try. The limit strategy is a solid one, especially through main game. The magical limits are really, really useful, I think.

"In terms of the story, I'm... Unsure where I fall? I like the broader lore around it, and I love the hints you get right from the start that the princess isn't entirely human - the idea of the two people sacrificing their humanity for their desires (both selfish and selfless) is a fascinating one, and I enjoy it a lot! Tbh I kinda wish I'd gone with the amoroad route first, in part bc I think it's a cooler boss fight, but I saw the option for robots and jumped at it.

I haven't done the true ending yet (got a tad bit distracted), but I'm excited for it!! Curious to see how it ties up these two broken souls. Love the contrast between a sister who just wanted her brother to come home, and sacrificed her humanity so she could wait for him, contrasted with a brother who wanted to protect her, and so sacrificed his humanity to do so. It's a delightfully cruel thing, how they both ended up in a similar place, despite everything.

Tbh I do really wish we'd gotten to see more of the deep city?? It feels like a shame to only get a few bits of it (though Olympia having her memory wiped at the end if you side with Armoroad is deeply messed up in a delightful way). I do also love how you can see the bones of EO4's exploration and discovery system in this one, with the ships becoming air ships, and the oceanic quests becoming full labyrinths!"

Entirely fair, and you hit on the stuff I found interesting. Etrian Odyssey doesn't have a ton of story stuff going on, but I do think most of the games are pretty interesting in spite of that. EO3 is one of the most interesting storylines they have, I think. I just love what they did with it, and admittedly, I like Gutrune a lot.

The true ending offers...a bit more, but mostly just for the Deep Ones. Who also get to be a bit interesting. Out of curiosity, have you been to Stratum 6 yet? It unlocks regardless of which route you clear, but you don't have to step in there at all.

#emrylurkeroftheloch

[raspberrysmoon]

sooooo.. @rtcshipweeks kind of got away from me. twice. so instead of just a short little oneshot focused only on the ship/prompt- have my funny little version of day nine: favorite poly ship! of which i used polychoir :)

!noels relationship with the girls and savannah are strictly platonic! hes only dating mischa. i may have wrote him a bit more affectionate than i needed to but they almost died together let them live tbh - also i did sm research on flowers and ukrainian customs/etiquette for this. (whether used or not) almost everything was chosen for a reason :)

"noel, get it together, dude." noel shoved the flowers at her, rolling his eyes in response.

"literally just take them. i'm not going to be your messenger."

ocean huffed, crossing her arms. "your name is literally on them. we bought them together."

"okay, and? i already gave him a gift." he leaned down slightly, "just let yourself have this."

ocean felt herself blush slightly. "noel, you're being stupid. we aren't together, and hes never looked at me like that. its.. weird to give him a gift. especially on valentines."

noel groaned. "you're actually blind! genuinely, actually completely blind!"

"who's blind?"

"constance, my savior!" ocean bolted over, "honey~ please tell noel he's being stupid!"

constance hummed, walking over and taking the flowers. "these are mischas favorites. did you get these for him?" she met noels gaze, "i thought you already gave him a gift."

noel shook his head. "i pitched in a bit, but ocean picked them out and arranged them." he narrowed his eyes playfully at the girl, "shes the one thats supposed to give them to him."

constance giggled. "ocean, they're your gift. you don't have to have a reason to give him a valentines gift. i gave noel one!"

ocean sighed. "you and noel are friends- everyone gave noel a gift. that doesn't count."

"i sent talia a gift, too." constance beckoned her girlfriend over, wrapping an arm around her. "does that mean talia and i are together?"

"how do you know exactly why i don't want to give it to him?" ocean groaned, pressing her face into constances shoulder. "you're just nice. you've always been like that."

noel sighed dramatically, dropping heavily on the couch. "ocean, please just get over yourself. you managed to give savannah one last year, look where that got you!"

she shook her head aggressively, despite the heat flooding her face. "savannah gave me one first. they don't count." she narrowed her eyes, "why do you even get a say in this? why am i listening to you?"

constance laughed, passing the flowers to ocean quickly. "come on, oce, i'll go with you. you can hand them to him and we can say they're from all three of us."

ocean sighed, but she nodded nonetheless. noel cheered quietly, grabbing constances hand and starting to pull her. "come on, i wanna see his face!"

"i cannot believe i just agreed to this."

mischa was sitting in the park under a maple tree, talking with savannah. he was in a red silk shirt and black jeans, and savannah beside him was in a flowy pink dress.

valentines, ocean told herself bitterly. valentines makes people dress all funky. savannah didn't even like pink that much.

she glanced down at her own red sweater, suddenly self conscious. even next to noel and constance, she was so underdressed. the whole choir- even penny- looked so nice and ocean was in a red sweater and black jean shorts. something she wore regularly anyway.

noel grabbed her hand and she looked up at him. curse him and his platforms, they're the same height.

"ocean, i promise, you're going to be fine." he murmured, pulling her towards him. "he's going to love them, and he's going to that thing where he jumps around and grabs you all excited, and you'll be forced to jump with him."

ocean rolled her eyes. "i really don't know about this anymore noel. if i knew you were going to make me give them to him, i would never have helped you."

constance sighed from somewhere behind her. "ocean, come on. the sooner we do this, the sooner it'll be over."

constance, with her gentle voice and even gentler hands. with her pastel pink hair bows and white lace dress. with her deep pink lips, and bright-colored nails. the epitome of everything mischa adored.

she bit her lip, looking over to mischa and savannah sitting under that maple tree. they had a box sitting between them, open, and a starbucks cup full of what looked like a pink drink with some mystery foam on top. she made a mental note to stop by a starbucks later.

"fine."

noel grinned, quickly pushing his hair back and grabbing her hand. "mischa!"

the boy in question jumped, scrambling to grab the box and shove it under his jacket, as well as grabbing the starbucks cup and setting it on the other side of the tree.

savannah sighed, letting their face drop into their hands for a moment before signing, that was soooo smooth, misch.

mischa blushed, swatting at their hands quickly. he looked back at the three approaching with a smile. "hello poet!" he paused, eyebrows drawing together in confusion. "what are you hiding, ocean?"

"ohh, connie is it too late to back out?" she whispered quickly, "i don't know if i can do this."

constance laughed and nodded. "you can, i know it. just go.. shove them in his face. he'll understand."

oceans head snapped to face the other girl, eyes wide. "what!? are you kidding? that's a terrible idea!"

constance shrugged. "then come on. noel?" he nodded in response, resting a hand on oceans back.

they pushed her forward, following close behind.

"guys, what are you doing? why are you pushing me?" she stumbled, cursing under her breath. "I'm never going to help you again, noel. you are a terrible, awful man."

they stopped pushing right as she stood in front of mischa. "ocean has a present for you." noel said softly. "from the three of us."

he perked up slightly, meeting her eyes. "for reals?"

she felt the words die before they even reached her throat. she was going to say something originally. she had wanted to, at least, but she couldn't. instead, she held out the bouquet silently.

purple. his favorite color. the only thing breaking up the sea of violet shades was what babys breath placed around every few flowers, the pinkish tint of asters and the deep red of three roses settled in the middle. lilacs and violets, as well as purple hyacinth and chrysanthemums stared them in the face- tied with dark pink twine around the stems. they were bright and soft and full to brim with adoration. with affection.

mischas eyes widened almost cartoonishly, staring in shock at the sea of plants in front of him. savannahs eyes narrowed, then their jaw dropped. and i thought you were a nerd before, they signed quickly.

ocean had to stop herself from rolling her eyes, instead focusing on mischa. "i know you love purple," she whispered, "i thought it was fitting."

"oh my god," he breathed, standing quickly to get a better view. "they are.. gorgeous."

savannah made a clicking sound with their tongue and mischa jumped. "i have something for you!"

all three of them paused. "you.. what?" she felt her stomach twist with what she could only assume was fear.

he nodded, "i have something for you." he met her gaze, "a gift."

she blinked at him while he turned and dug under his jacket for a small teal box. he held it out to her with a nervous smile. she stared at it for a second before- "for me?"

mischa nodded. "would be wrong to not give you something."

distantly, she felt noel and constance move away from her and start talking quietly to savannah, who was clearly in on this, the little rat. mischa bit his lip, shifting his weight back and forth anxiously.

"here," she murmured, holding the flowers out to him, "we can trade."

he nodded, passing her the box and taking the flowers. he stared at them for a moment with wide eyes and pink cheeks, before looking to her. "open it." he urged, nodding to the box now settled carefully in her hands.

the last gift anyone had given her was christmas, and nothing was wrapped as delicately as the little thing. a shiny silver ribbon was wrapped around the top, with a bow tied in the middle. her name was written on a tag attached to the ribbon, in big, swooping cursive that she wasn't sure was even mischas writing.

she pulled the top off gently, careful not to dislodge the ribbon too much. she glanced up at mischa, who was watching her with a tense gaze.

she moved the top, and couldn't catch the gasp soon enough. it was like she couldn't breathe.

sitting in deep orange satin was a silver necklace, with a pressed sunflower petal set in a resin cylinder settled pretty in the center.

it matched everyone elses'. she glanced at noel, with his earrings, and constance with her velvet choker and teardrop pendant, and savannah with her bracelet. she thought of talia, with her gorgeous ring and penny with her anklet.

one petal for each of my loves, she remembered him writing one day. seven petals from one flower.

at the time, she wasn't sure why he said seven. he had only given four, and including his own, that only made five. that was before her and penny.

she looked back to mischa. "are you.. serious?" she asked softly.

he nodded. "seven petals." he murmured. "may i put it on you?"

she nodded shakily, and he lifted the silver chain from the box. he unclipped it, moving behind her slowly. she moved her hair to the side, with a trembling hand, and she met noels gaze.

the little shit was grinning. she narrowed her eyes at him and his smile got wider.

mischa rested the pendant against her neck lightly, and re-connected it, letting the chain come to rest against the nape of her neck.

it sat right below her collar bone, and was cool when she came up to rest her fingers against it.

"do you like it?" mischa whispered in her ear. "savannah helped me measure how long to make the chain."

ocean felt her breath leave her lungs in one fell swoop and she nodded quickly, turning and pulling the boy into a hug.

"does this mean you're mine?" she breathed. his grip tightened around her.

"i am. and you are mine." he whispered back.

she hummed, pulling away and meeting his eyes. "good."

savannah snapped their fingers, and upon all eyes being turned to them signed; i just want you to know that i planned this entire thing. they grinned. you're welcome.

noel scoffed. "i planned the flowers, thank you. you just got us all in the right place at the right time."

constance giggled, walking over and wrapping her arms around ocean and mischa. "we figured we would speed up the 'awkward miscommunication phase.'" she leaned into mischa as he rested his chin on her head. "seeing you two flounder around each other was adorably painful to watch."

ocean rolled her eyes. "i'm sorry, i'm just sooooo oblivious." it started sarcastic, but quickly turned into a playful snap.

savannah hummed, pushing themself onto their feet and holding out a starbucks cup with her name on it. the one from earlier.

she took it carefully, and mischa leaned down again. "pink drink with chocolate foam." he murmured, "you said you liked it last year."

she felt her heart flutter. "i only ever told penny that." she responded softly. "did she tell you?"

mischa hummed. "i texted everyone. asked what you liked to drink, penny responded. said you loved it."

"i do," she breathed. "i was so sad when they took it off the menu. it made it so hard to get one."

"we all pitched in a bit to get it." noel came over, setting a hand on constances back. "its from all of us. penny would've been here, but ezra had some sort of medical emergency. she mentioned cars."

ocean paused. "did he.. get hit, or something?" noel shrugged.

"with that kid, who knows. i worry about penny going gray sometimes, honestly." that pulled a laugh out of her.

"drink up." constance urged softly, "we have a picnic to start."

ocean blinked. "a picnic?"

savannah nodded solemnly. my doing, of course. ocean giggled again, and nodded back.

penny arrived 20 minutes later, and ocean got to relax into a pile of the people she loved. she got to hold constances hand, and lay her head in savannahs lap as they braid her hair, and let mischa lay on her chest as he sleeps.

even if none of them really got to relax much as noel and penny started their seemingly daily debate, it was perfect.

#ride the cyclone #rtc #rtc ship weeks #ricky potts #jane doe #penny lamb #constance blackwood #noel gruber #ocean o’connell rosenberg #ocean rtc #noel rtc #mischa bachinski #polychoir #with accidental focus on ocsha #mischa rtc #constance rtc #ricky rtc #savannah potts #transfem ricky

[weirdthoughtsandideas]

Swimming in the ocean is always such an unpredictable experience.

Sometimes it seems to be cold but then it ends up being really cooling in the hot sun and you can be in for hours. And if you have your swim goggles you can see under water and find nice stuff and pretend to be a mermaid.

Sometimes it never ever gets warmer. It’s cold when you go in and it keeps being cold. It’s unpleasant and you wanna go up quickly but you think ”it will be warmer in just a moment” (it will not).

Sometimes there is a bunch of waves and it splashes you before you’re ready to properly go in the water (but it can also be very very fun)

Sometimes, like today, you can’t go swim at your regular place because this bird family has built a nest there and their baby bird is swimming around and the other birds scream like crazy if you dare to go near

Tbh I am more of a lake girl, lakes are maybe not always as pretty, but they are first of all much warmer and they also sometimes have jump towers in the middle of it that you can swim out to and jump from.

[squipy]

You guys ever take a look back at old ocs you made and wonder...."wow this sucks" well that's me I'm taking one of my most popular oca on amino *thunder crackling boom boom* and making it more my style. Sooo what are we working with

Oh boy.... so ima split this up into sections and this is going to be a long post so strap in

The orginal:

Before we jump into fixing this thing let's look at what I wrote when I was a child

Just say he/they... also if you wanted to make him gay just make him fruity also pus...fucjing puss and boots wanna be

I actally don't hate this section too much however I would change crazy tbh more of just didn't care had no fear he was brave

You didn't know what kinky was...also he's not sinful probably lust instead of greed tbh

Wip...your telling me my most popular oc Never had a backstory yeah were fixing that

What is wrong:

So besides this guy being your owo femboy arcitice because I didn't realize that this oc is very much a streotype I also had to deal with the rules and such on how this amino worked (don't even get me started on the abalism) so now that I'm older,have no rules to follow let's make a new oc. They also use a face claim and sense I can't draw still we luckily now have things like gatcha club and picrew

The revamp:

Name: Julian Netherwood

Age: premently 27 (technically 323)

Gender: male

Pronouns: he/him

Sexuality: homoflexible

Birthday: March 8th 1693

Death day: July 19th 1720

Languages: English,Spanish some French

Postive traits: brave,open minded,persuasive,crafty,

Negative: sly,possessive,greedy,lustful,wild emotions,stubborn

Likes: cats,ships,ocean,mythology,swords,writing,people

Dislikes: storms,closed spaces,being alone

Appearance:

I'm not good at gatcha....

Backstory:

Julian was born into a poor household, and it didn’t help. He was a rather hyper child, always getting into trouble. Due to this, Julian felt like a burden onto his family, making him run away and join a group of pirates. He finally felt like he belonged to a group that actually wanted him, and he was a damn good pirate too, becoming a master at the sword and defending his crew until the day it got too much. In an act of sacrifice, he was killed by a group of British guards as he used himself as a distraction so his crew could get away. This of course blessed him into Valhalla, where he learned he was a child of hornn. At first, spending days in the hotel was fun, but after years and years, Julian was brought back to that feeling of being unwanted and unable to do what he wanted; this place wasn’t for him. So he snuck out, joining a group of fellow Norse descendants to bring on the end of the world. At first, he didn’t like it, but the feeling of belonging somewhere overtook his feelings of mercy for the world…

#it's done #bleh #old oc go brr #oc revamp #gosh amino is scary #oc #orginal character #if anyone recognizes this oc #im sorry #percy jackson oc

[theglitchywriterboi]

I hate the whole "Erm but if aliens exist & they're smarter than us we'd be dead" cause not all life will be like humans. They could be more technologically smarter than us but maybe they don't have the drive to want to take over the universe ??? Also the universe is fucking MASSIVE, so even if they were super smart, they may still be traveling in our direction & just haven't hit us yet. Or maybe they're so smart they see invading us on the same level as stealing candy from a baby. Sure you can easily, but it's a dick move tbh. Or like we're the ocean. Sure therea some that'll try to kill us but a lot that wanna protect us.

Or maybe they aren't smart like why do y'all jump to "Aliens=super geniuses, and super geniuses means they can travel fast & if they can travel fast they would've already been here & if they were here they would've killed us, so they don't exist period" like maybe there are aliens but it's just space snails or something. & not even big snails, like tiny ones. Normal sized ones but in space

Doing the "Erm but we'd be dead-" shit as a reason as to why they don't exist doesn't make you sound smart, you sound dumb

[ragtimedrakes]

Your posts make me wanna get back into ocean fishing, I remember I used to jump on the railing & then do the special FSH /sit so my wee stool was floating in mid-air lol

i really like it as an occasional thing. Now that I've gotten the new title tbh I'm probably taking a break from it again LOL. I do enjoy fishing quite a lot but I don't have the drive to do things like big fish hunting. maybe I'll go through and finish all the catching achievements for all the routes eventually though, I like filling out the blue fish.

#it's always correct to fish in the funniest was possible I salute you anon #I like to just stand at the railing near the front

[glamourooze]

Wats ur fave horror movie? 🎥 🍿

tbh I watch and read so much horror that I don’t really have one favorite.

There are a few on Netflix I really liked. Sweetheart was good, that underwater scene really freaked me out. Rattlesnake was more of a triller/crime movie but again, I liked it and it made me actually care about the main characters. Another one I liked was The Bye Bye Man and I know a lot of people didn’t like it, especially the name, but there were a few scenes that made me jump and the ending got me.

I’m very fond of the Silent Hill and Chucky movies. Watched those as a kid and still really like them.

I mostly watch horror series. Haven’t gotten around to watching the Chunky series yet tho. I loved Kingdom, it’s a k-drama on Netflix with zombies and the story was gripping and every time you got one question answered, more questions came up. It was so good!

Sweethome was great. I loved the designs of the monsters and it got pretty sad at times. It’s also a k-drama/horror on Netflix.

Wow I watch a lot of Netflix. Anyway those are the ones I can think of off the top of my head. I can’t remember if Sweetheart or The Bye Bye Man were graphic or gory. I know Sweetheart will trigger ocean/water fears…..ummm….basically if you wanna watch any of these then you might want to do a bit of research.

#horror is my passion #even tho I’m paranoid and get hallucinations and should probably not consume so much horror #ask box #anon ask

[aelyosos]

also i’m gonna b focusing more on ocean lately 🏴‍☠️

#sam.txt #oc: ocean #oc talk: ocean #i have . a bunch of other oc ideas floating around tbh #but i rly wanna explore and write ocean more #somehow that got a lil sidetracked and w today actually being world ocean day #i thought it would b a nice nod to further jump my enthusiasm #it’s been like a week or two since i’ve written anything again and i won’t stand for it ! 😤 #anyway anyway i rly need to get to sleep in the worst way but ocean hours 🥺

[honeymoonjin]

𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: fanboy!taehyung x artist!reader

𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 13.7k

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

“Oh my god, Y/n L/n?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"The pleasure is all mine."

--

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

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

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

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

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

Wait.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

You take him home the next day.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Use me, then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Tae, you'll smudge it."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

#ksmutclub #festivefrivolity #taehyung x reader #bts x reader #taehyung smut #bts smut #ficswithluv #bangtanarmynet #thekimlinenet #btswriterscollective #btswritingcafe #magicshopnet #smutcentralnet #taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #bts angst #bts fluff #kth #v #namjoon

[toukatan]

in two weeks, we're probably going to see manbun eren and i'm here like

listen, i highkey loathe manbun era as much as good looking he was during that phase. that's the time he hurt our wife and our sunshine boi. i got beef with that. and if he's still not going to apologize about that specific event, i'm forever going to be salty about manbun era for as long as i live. 😩

i'm just waiting for pre-timeskip eren 😌✨ and paths eren 😌✨ hobo eren is superior of all phases 😌✨✨

manbun eren huh? we see him soon huh? man bun eren— guess it’s my time to rise and shine

tbh manbun eren’s visual were at their peak in this era but his personality made me wanna throw hands, the edgy teen energy jumped right out the moment when decided to act on up first with hange and then he walked into the room and acted like he owned the place with our baby girl baby and sweet ocean boy. oh sis he was testing me— i got beef with manbun eren too 😠

we are patiently waiting for ✨😌 108 baby boy, 121 paths eren, 123 chef kisses and 130 hobo ren with zeke and anything else i missed in between 😌✨

#manbun eren i just do not see him #🗿🗿 #we both got beef with him #the moment he ties his hair up we fightin #replies #nitatalks

[liibrii]

Kita Shinsuke x gn!Reader

Synopsis: Hitchhiking through the countryside you catch a ride from a handsome stranger, which just might turn out to be the greatest decision of your life – or your greatest mistake.

wc: 2k || thriller-ish, mystery-ish

a/n: heavily inspired by one of my all time favourite songs; The Count of Tuscany. tbh this fic was just an excuse for me to listen to it on repeat for several hours :P as always feedback is greatly appreciated!

In the bathroom of the roadside gas station you change into your best clothes and brush through the tangles in your hair, wash your face, scrub your hands to make sure there's no dirt beneath your nails. No one in their right mind would pick up a scruffy looking hitchhiker.

You decide to stand outside where everyone who drives in to fill their gas tanks will notice you. On a small chalkboard you bought for a few hundred yen in a convenience store you write the name of your destination with the prettiest writing you manage and even add a smiley face. That should do the trick of gaining attention.

You've almost reached your destination already. The western sea of Japan. Being born on the eastern coast you have watched the sun rise above the ocean your entire life. At least once in your life you want to see it sink in the vastness of the sea hugging your homeland.

Would a train or a bus bring you to your destination faster? They would, sadly your wallet disagreed with that option. Hitchhiking really was the best option even if you often waited for hours with no luck. Still it wasn't all bad; one time an elderly lady stoped to give you a lift. You sat in the back as the front sit was occupied by her dog who excitedly turned to sniffle and lick your face, begging for scratches. She made you stay for dinner and even prepared a futon for you to sleep. “All my children and grandchildren moved to the big cities.“ She scratched behind the ears of her dozing four legged companion as you drank tea while sun slowly set behind the hilltops. “Slowly but surely we are bein' left behind. Seein' someone so young come 'round makes these old bones incredibly happy.“

Following morning she wished you good luck on your journey. Her name and address are written in your dairy. When new year comes in a few months you mustn't forget to send her a gift. You watched her stroll away, one slow step after another, dog trailing behind, her back bent under the weight of years. Is that what the future holds for you?

You try to keep a positive outlook, at least you get to see the beauty of the countryside. The green hills and vast fields of rice swaying in the wind are a sight that takes your breath away. Summer's coming to an end. It will soon be harvest season.

Your legs are starting to hurt. Hours have passed and nobody pays you even a second glance. Under the hat your hair sticks to your skin, droplets of sweat trickle down your back. You're all but ready to give up and start looking for a place to stay the night when a man about your age approaches.

He has caught your eye before. Something about his overalls and silvery hair glimmering in the sun made him stand out from the others. He kept glancing over at you while filling his tank.

“I'm not goin' as far as ya want,“ his eyes glance over the chalkboard you're holding. “But if ya want I can give ya a ride to the next town over.“

You eagerly nod. “That would be great!“ You offer him a hand. “You can call me y/n!“

His hand is calloused. Hand of someone working outside. “Kita.“

Ride is comfortable. Kita is more on the quiet side but once you mention how pretty the landscape looks with all the swaying fields he laughs . It's a bright sound that makes your heart skip a beat. He tells you he works the fields, not all you see, but many of them. Talking to him quickly becomes easy. To your surprise you find you have a lot in common. When you arrive to the town and he stops by a small inn offering rooms you're almost reluctant to leave his company. He hesitates when taking your backpack from the back seats. “I know we just met,“ he softly says, “but could I take you out for dinner? Maybe tonight?“

How could you possibly say no? You've been travelling on your own for the past two weeks and the loneliness is starting to get to you. And he's cute.

When he picks you up a few hours later he's wearing a nice button down. He combed his hair though you preferred it when it was all messy. “I'm not late am I?“

“No, I'm just a bit early.“

“Here,“ he shyly averts his eyes when he hands you a small bouquet of spider lilies that have yet to open in full bloom.

Your cheeks flush. It has been a long time since anyone gifted you flowers. “Thank you,“ you say, sincerely.

Kita takes you to a small family owned restaurant down the street. He opens the door for you and pours you tea while you skim through the menu. Talking to him is so easy. He mentions he used to play volleyball back in high school, that many of his old teammates went on to play professionally. Embarrassed you have to tell him you know very little about volleyball. As you speak his eyes linger on your face. Sports have never been your strong suit, you admit.

“Don't feel bad over it,“ he reassuringly smiles. “So how come yer travellin' these parts?“

Your dream of seeing the sunset over the sea seems so simple when you tell him but Kita nods. There's wisdom in his eyes you don't usually see in your peers. Why are you so relieved he doesn't find your dream childish? “I just want to see the country, get to know the land and the history,“ you eagerly continue.

“There's an old castle ruin not far from the town. Tourists often visit it. If ya want I can show ya 'round,“ he offers.

A trip to ruins does sound nice. Even a little bit romantic. One more day staying around couldn't hurt, right?

Kita's smile widens when you agree. “I'll pick ya up tomorrow. Would around midday be alright?“

For the rest of the night you're all giddy on the inside. You can't wait for tomorrow to arrive. Kita walks you back to the inn and waits till you're inside before heading his own way. What a gentleman, you think to yourself. Meeting someone like him was the last thing you expected.

Whatever road lead to the castle in its days of glory has long since been claimed by the nature. Kita walks with steps of someone who has walked this path a thousand times before. You trail behind him, your clothes getting caught in branches all the time. When he sees you struggling he slows down and even offers to carry your small backpack for you.

“This castle used to be really important back in the days,“ he explains while you catch your breath. “It's strategic position is really important. There's a legend my grannie used to tell me. Durin' the Sengoku period the youngest son of a shogun fortified himself in this castle and defended it for months. Then his enemies dug tunnels beneath.“ He offers you a hand to help you climb over a pile of rubble marking what once were the castle walls. “Filled them with wood soaked in fat and set it aflame. Castle crumbled and buried hundreds of soldiers beneath it. Some say the son of the shogun still haunts this place.“

“An interesting story,“ you say, ignoring how every hair on your body stands up.

By the time you reach the ruins you're drenched in sweat and yet once the view of the valley beneath opens up you forget all about the fatigue. You step closer to the ledge and peek over it. The side of the hill plunges straight down. Deep below you see tree tops. If you slipped -

A hand grabs your shoulder. “Careful. The stones 'round here often crumble.“

You murmur an apology. Kita's hand lingers on yours, his eyes following when you walk away to have a closer look at the ruins. They're covered with grass and small trees sprouting from the crack between stones. Funny, you can't see any tables with information about this place. Having a map would surely help with orientation. You can't be the only tourist with a knack of getting lost.

Kita approaches you with a smile. “Wanna see somethin' really cool?“

You follow him inside the ruins. “Watch yer step,“ he holds the branches of a lonely tree so they don't smack you as you walk by, “it's easy to trip 'round here.“

Walls here are better preserved, higher. The shadows they cast seem longer. You follow Kita inside the labyrinth of crumbled stone. An uneasy feeling of being watched grows inside you as your approach scares off a flock of birds.

Kita pushes away a curtain of poison ivy to reveal a gaping hole where the walls lean on the cliff towering above. Cold gust of wind makes you shudder. “Here,“ Kita offers you a torchlight. Your hands are cold. Fingers barely capable of wrapping around the black plastic.

He turns to you, his eyes carefully examining your face before he enters. “Ya comin'? Be careful where ya step, the stairs are slippery.“ He offers you his hand. It's warm.

“There's a natural cave beneath the castle.“ His calm voice echoes through the winding staircase. “Apparently it used to have a small pool for the nobles to cool in durin' summer. It's filled with rubble now.“

Light of the torches casts eerie shadows on the walls. Stone surface under your fingers is cold and damp. You follow Kita through a narrow hallway and soon enough you reach a small cave. It probably used to be bigger but a part of the ceiling caved in.

Rubble crunches under the soles of your shoes. In the eerie silence all you hear is your breathing and unsteady thumping in your chest. Somewhere in the distance perhaps a ghost of a long deceased soldier- you curse yourself in your head. Why are you trying to scare yourself?

You look up to see stalactites growing from the ceiling. How many thousands of years old must they be?

“They only grow about a millimetre per year. Must be tens of thousands of years old.“ Kita's voice makes you jump. How did he know exactly what you were thinking?

Only now you notice he's standing between you and the exit to the hallway. His eyes are fixed on you. He's closing off the only exit. Pounding in your chest quickens. This place is starting to suffocate you. 

Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop.

You really did follow a complete stranger into a cave beneath an abandoned castle. What an idiot. Naive, trusting idiot.

Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop.

Slowly, like water dripping from the ceiling it sinks in you may not make it out of here.

Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop.

Ah, don't be stupid! You still have years to live! A boring office job to take on! When was the last time you spoke to your friends?

Kita's eyes never leave yours as he steps closer. In the dim light it all seems so- Kita wouldn't- But you don't know him, do you? Torch rolls from your shaking fingers.

Is this really how it ends? Hidden from the sunlight, caught like a mouse in a trap of stone and cold cutting to your bones? You can't breathe. Will they ever find you? Tears well up in your eyes. Why? What have you done to deserve this?

You're shaking. Will you ever see the sunset over the vastness of the sea? Will you lay beside the unfortunate soldiers from centuries ago till you become only clean, nameless bones?

A shaky plea for your life is all you manage to stammer. Through the tears his face is just muddled colours. Is this really how you die?

Warm touch of his hands cupping your face, thumbs wiping away tears, his soft, gentle voice, paralyse you. “Hey, why are ya cryin'?“

#kita shinsuke #kita x reader #kita shinsuke x reader #kita imagine #kita #hqcorenet #inarizaki x reader #inarizaki x y/n #hq #haikyuu!! #haikyuu imagines #libri scribbles #before spider lilies bloom

[dokifluffs]

Day at the Beach | Karasuno, Shiratorizawa

Groups: Karasuno, Shiratorizawa

Genre: fun, crack?

Request: “I’m the anon who asked if your request are open ! Hi can request some hc for going to the beach with Karasuno boy and shiratorizawa boys” - anonnie

Author’s Note: thanks for requesting! I hope this is okay anonnie~ happy reading! 

Karasuno: 

One word: chaos

Everyone met up in the early morning outside the gym

of couse noya was talking to tanaka in his stoic voice like: “ryu, we must protect kiyoko-san and ya-chan from all the dirty eyes today,” while tanaka was kneeling in front of him like that one scene at the training camp bbq with yamamoto 

Things were actually, surprisingly calm, that is until Hinata rolled in with his volleyball

puppy mode activated. he kept nagging kageyama to toss for him right then and there in the parking lot while everyone just sighed all around

Daichi had to stop them from breaking into the gym to play before it was time to go even though Suga and him had the keys

Tsukishima was obviously grumbling about how annoying they were and how much energy they had with Yamaguchi and yachi beside him

On the way there: everybody. Knocked. Out. It took a couple hours and it was early so might as well catch some z’s

It was quiet like on the way to matches or wherever as a team

When there was about an hour left before arriving, everyone slowly woke

Chaos ensued near the back with the first years plus nishinoya and Tanaka playing uno, the other second years chilling and watching

While the third years just vibes toward the front

Occasional yells, glares, and threats sent from daichi when they were too loud

Nishonoya was winning the game of course, cheering the others on while feeling like a god 

Hinata said uno reverse and was the one calling Kageyama boke for not getting a grasp of the game

he also sent a lot of skips and plus cards his way to piss him off even more

Hinata honestly almost died. the amount of times kageyama grabbed his skull made everyone wonder how his skull hadn’t been split yet

The bus ride was honestly really funn despite hinata almost dying at kageyama’s hand~

Hinata was of course the first one to notice the ocean after placing second in the game after yachi followed by tsuki, Tanaka, yamaguchi, noya, and finally kageyama losing

after finding a good spot, everyone got out and hinata and kageyama practically bolted, their swimwear already on and other clothes shoved into their bag 

tanaka and noya were also almost like them. keyword almost. but as soon as they spotted another man, they were guarding yachi and kiyoko already 

everyone else grabbed their belongings and slowly made their way toward the general area where kageyama and hinata had dropped their own belongings and were already diving into the water 

the entire day was filled with fun 

lots of swimming, playing all sorts of games in the sand

especially beach volleyball in the sand courts there were 

even here, despite the ground being completely different from the normal gym floors, kageyama and hinata’s energies were drained, everyone’s were but they were of course still going at it 

soon it just became a one on one 

everyone watched from the side, relaxing under the sun

tsuki brought a book of course but he also just vibed with the music, in charge of the aux 

tsuki, yams, and yachi were sat near the shore at the edge where the water came right at the edge, the two of them looking at the little crabs and seashells while tsuki just sat and watched, observing with the two sane people he actually liked out of everyone else 

kiyoko helped takeda and ukai grill some food as the sun set, setting up food for everyone to eat 

daichi, suga, and asahi went to a market area around and brought back bags of drinks and ice for the cooler 

as the day went on, the beach cleared leaving just the team 

everyone gathered around the firepit eating their dinners, laughing about the season and funny moments and memories

they never wanted the day to end, the memories to end 

Shiratorizawa: 

things were actually super chill 

the beach days were the one day they could all truly relax and not give a care about anything in the world 

the bus ride there wasn’t too long and everyone just did their own things

some got shut eye, some listened to music 

tendo read his shonen jump like the king he is as ushi gazed outside, his eyes fixed on the crops, sighing in satisfaction at how good the soil was this year akjsdhjaks

everybody else just vibed tbh 

goshiki sat behind ushijima of course, sometimes making conversation with shirabu beside him 

semi listened to his music, taking up a whole pair of seats since the bus was large enough for there to be a lot more vacant seats even with the team riding it 

getting there, the beach was somewhat full but no bother 

a few already had gotten changed/ most already had their trunks on on the bus 

you already know that as soon as these men were already walking down the beach to a vacant spot, they were catching the attention of numerous people 

they caught even more when they took off their shirts akjsd

of course ushi being the most built and drooled over, everything, all the comments and even a few whistles from older women went right over his head or even in his ear and out the other

tendo, ushi, semi, and goshiki helped open a tent, burying the poles deep into the sand 

everyone paired off and put on sun screen on each other’s backs of course 

there was some playing in the water but it was the volleyball team 

of course they were going to play 

ushijima first watched this group play and ended up subbing in 

it was a lot different for him but he got the hang of it since there wasn’t anything about this he couldn’t handle 

literally almost broke someone’s nose playing askdja and then gradually, it became the team’s court 

it was a mix of fun while also being serious and each side trying to win 

the sand itself was definitely a different feeling for them than the gym floor but it was a lot more fun to dive around and just being free

goshiki got buried by tendo and reon 

they gave him b00bies and wouldn’t let him go despite all his cries, talking about feeling something pinching his feet 

washijo told him to suck it up askdjh

tbh seeing all these tall bois intimidated the hell out of the kiddos there but it was all fun and no one cried ah ha ha 

when it was emptier, semi pulled out his speaker and played his bops his mixtape 

but the day was mainly filled with beach volleyball and when things got intense, people actually started to gather and watched and some even wanted to sub in

that is until they saw ushi’s bone breaking smeck 

to relax, tendo and ushi actually laid beneath the sun getting their tan on

around sunset, to let off some steam, the team walked along the boardwalk 

of course, catching the eyes of almost everyone since they didn’t really wear shirts- well they did but more like muscle tanks that showed off their tanned and toned arms 

and their shorts were very similar to they volleyball ones that showed off their thunder thighs 

they went into shops and tendo got everyone to try on the wacky shirts and fun glasses, snapping some pics for fun 

goshiki tried to act v mature for some reason but let himself go when he glanced over to see ushijima with his stoic face wearing heart sunglasses and a rainbow sombrero that tendo and semi had put on him 

everyone lost it akjsdajhds

the day ended with a nice dinner out at the end of the pier and then a calm bus ride home with their own bags of goodies 

~~~~~ Thanks for reading! Masterlist for more! Please do not repost anywhere else!

Tags (let me know if you wanna be tagged for all my haikyuu posts): @yams046  @mazey-chan  @sunboikyo00  @kara-grayson04​  @fortheloveofbakugo​ @tsumtsumsemi​ @osamuonigiri @sam-ate-giorno​​​ @1-800-wholesome​ @realityisoftendisapointing@plantisnotplant @k-eijiakaashi​ @pink-panda-pancakes​ @differentballooncollection​ @osamusamusamu@therainroguefanfiction​ @euphorihan​

#haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyuu fluff #karasuno #shiratorizawa #karasuno imagines #shiratorizawa imagines #karasuno scenarios #karasuno headcanons #shiratorizawa headcanons #shiratorizawa scenarios #dokifluffs