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#how this would probably all fall apart anyway due to rats and inside jobs and it's the splintering of ovw just w another face

littlemisskookie · 5 years

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Push Your Buttons

Push Your Buttons Ship: Taehyung | Coraline!Reader Description: Coraline!AU, Childhood Friends/Enemies to Lovers!AU. You return to your childhood home in an attempt to uncover your past, despite the fact it seems as though everyone’s determined to keep it hidden. Warnings: Fat Cock kink?, Taehyung calls you a bitch a lot, Oral, Denied Orgasms, Blowjob, Intercourse, Dirty Talk, Violence, So MUCH ANGST, Major Character Death Word Count: 23k A/N: I literally spent months on this so please enjoy! I’m proud of it!

For some reason you expected it to be more colorful.

Typically, when someone thinks back to their childhood home and summer memories, they think of back the lush green of the trees and the wide expanse of grass and yard. Perhaps blue skies and scraped knees, with a golden sun overhead to burn skin and give tans. Maybe the flush of cool water against one's skin and friends whose little arms would wrap around you in a tight hug.

That's what you supposed most would think of, anyway. You really couldn't say because truth be told, you had no recollection.

As in, no recollection whatsoever.

Apparently, there was an incident here at this very place when you were only eleven years old. It was your childhood home, but you were spared most of the details. After the incident, your grandparents, with whom you had lived, decided a change of scenery would benefit you, and you were unable to recall the memories you had before seventh grade.

You remembered small things, but none of it really seemed real. It was more like a dream, some of it bizarre and outlandish. A small door and a winding tunnel, as well as bright colors and warm food. It wasn't always pleasant, though. Some nights, until about a year after the incident, you'd wake up screaming about your eyes.

Neither you nor your grandparents could decipher what it really meant.

There was one thing you were positive was real though. Two boys. One you weren't able to really make out, but the other had a face as clear as day. A bright smile and long eyes, with big cheeks that looked ready to pinch.

You wondered if you'd see that boy again.

Your grandparents had decided to move back to the home after all of these years. You were being transferred to another school, and you'd be away for a while. The two felt nostalgic about the place since it was originally where they had raised your mother before she died, and wished to return. You insisted upon helping them settle in and tend to them, admittedly curious about your childhood home. Perhaps you could settle in for the summer and find a nearby job soon. You had just finished college, having graduated a year early due to summer classes. Still, they were worried- about bad memories returning after all these years or other things, you weren't quite sure. Nevertheless, you had pestered them into letting you stay with them, seeing as you needed to help them due to their age and health.

The town was a lot more grey than you would've guessed. A bleak sky with a dreary yet humid atmosphere, lightly sprinkling enough for your skin to feel dewy, but not enough for the need to go inside. The ground was muddy as you stepped out of the car, taking a long look at the house you had grown up in.

It was a large suburban home that was divided into four apartments, all of the neighbors staying there even after your departure, apparently. The landowner immediately let your family move in, perhaps for nostalgia's sake or for the need of money.

Sweeping a hand through your blue-dyed hair and tugging your yellow raincoat closer, you marched up to the house, noticing how run down and old it was. Slipping your matching yellow boots off, you shake your head, trying to get any droplets out of your hair, mimicking a dog. You walked along the floorboards, examining the interior. The paint was faded and chipped, and each step you took creaked.

"Y/N! Don't run off too far!" your grandmother called, paranoid as always. Your grandfather was helping her out of the car to get into her wheelchair, which she had been stuck in for your entire life. "Remember that there are rats in the attic! There's supposed to be traps laid out, but I don't want you to get hurt."

You ignored her, giddy as you clutched on tightly to the key in hand, jamming it into the front door and entering the premises.

Nothing.

You felt deflated.

It was standard, some old furniture still there, and dusty as hell. You didn't know what you expected. Why did you get your hopes up?

The whole reason you brought yourself here was to try to recover your memories.

You had all the time in the world for that, though. Surely something would come up to bring back a rush of memories.

You ventured through, noting leaks and mouse traps that had yet to go off. Walking up the stairs, you continued to look for something of interest, only to stumble across your old room. The landowner was right- it really hadn't been touched since your family moved away.

The room was set up for a young girl, with faded pink walls and a bedspread of butterflies. You stared around, racking your brain for any sense of familiarity, only to find none. It felt as though you were in a stranger's room, but you knew it was yours. Your grandma had some pictures of you in your room back when you had stolen one of her polaroids, and you were sure if you'd look at them in comparison, the room would be a match.

You squint your eyes, however, seeing something that seemed out of place. A tiny door, no taller than your knee. You kneeled down, your finger tracing along the outline of it, ripped wallpaper being hastily taped up with duct tape that was already beginning to fall off.

This... This seemed familiar.

Your heart palpitates, realizing it looked awfully like the door in one of your many dreams.

It couldn't be real.

Ripping off the tape, you try to pry the door open, only to find it locked. You grit your teeth, looking around the room for a key. You looked beneath the bed, behind the dressers, everyone until you finally found it beneath some cobwebs. Blowing the dust off, you jam it into the lock, twisting the key to pry the door open only to find... brick.

Disappointed, you return to the car, your grandfather calling for you. A tall, strange figure stood before both of them, a mop of dark hair on top. You furrow your brows, looking at the man in question.

His skin was golden, making him glow and illuminate the grey clouds in the background. He was stunningly handsome, and you felt your breath hitch as you stared at him, finding your mouth dry.

"Y/N, this is your childhood best friend, Kim Taehyung. He's the son of the landowner, and has graciously offered to help us move in!" Your grandmother beamed at the man, reaching up to pinch his cheek. "My, how you've grown! I remember back when you were no bigger than my knee, you were such a cute kid. Now you're a handsome young man! You know, Y/N's single right now, and with the history between the two of you-"

"That's enough, Grandmother, I'm sure he's got another girl," you hastily interrupt, feeling your cheeks flush. You hold your hand out, smiling at Taehyung, internally praying that your hands weren't sweaty. "I'm Y/N, it's nice to meet you."

He glared down at your hand before giving you a confused look. "Why are you introducing yourself? We've known each other since diapers."

You feel your face go beet red, and you fume with anger immediately. That was just plain rude. "There's no need to be obnoxious."

"Y/N!" your grandfather snapped.

"I'm sorry I don't remember you, but it's probably for the best, seeing how rude you're being," you continued, crossing your arms as you looked up at the man. You were best friends with this brat? You would've figured it'd be the boy with the chubby cheeks and long eyes, not this absolute jerk.

Taehyung raised a brow in a way that sent shivers down your spine. "Is that so?"

"It is," you say, wanting to spit out the words. "I can't imagine myself being friends with such a pompous ass."

"Y/N, that's enough. We raised you better than this. Why don't you get started on moving the stuff inside? We'll have to apologize to Taehyung on your behalf."

You rolled your eyes, huffing as you began moving the boxes inside. It's about only five minutes later that Taehyung joins you, boxes in his arms as well. He's about to stumble when you catch some of them, quick on your feet as you prevent them from toppling to the ground.

"Careful! That could be our good china!"

Taehyung set down the box carefully, both of you trying to calm down after the brief scare.

You're both silent for a moment, but you break the silence ultimately. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have burst out like that. I was being rude."

He grunted in response, and you do your best not to get pissed off at him once more. There was no need for you to act so immature and childish, after all. Finally, he speaks up. "So you really don't remember anything, huh?"

You pause at that. "So they told you, huh?"

"Yeah. If I had known I wouldn't have been like that," Taehyung admits.

You let out a breath. "It's alright. There was no way for you to know. And no, I don't remember anything. It's one of the reasons I came back. Apparently, there was some incident that just completely wiped away my memories and... Well, I've been gone ever since."

"So you don't remember me."

"No. You probably know my childhood better than I do, if we were really friends though. It's hard to imagine, though. You're no more than a stranger to me right now, I mean look at us." You gesture at the contrast between his dark coat and your own bright yellow one.

"Show your left ankle and I'll tell you one story," he offers.

Your eyes light up at that, and you don't hesitate, kicking off a rainboot and rolling up your already cuffed jeans, showing the small, crummy butterfly.

Taehyung traces it softly, making sure not to make you uncomfortable as he does so. His mouth quirks up a bit, and you can't help the unexpectedly warm feeling in your chest. "When we were eight we all snuck into Mrs. Miller and Wilson's apartment. They were our neighbors back in the day. They had this old tattoo pen and such. Jimin advised against it, but you were obsessed with butterflies at the time and wanted me to draw one on you. By the time the adults found out, it had been done. You were the only eight-year-old at our school who had a tattoo, needless to say."

You laugh at the story. "Oh God, I could totally picture myself doing that. Makes sense why it's so poorly drawn, though."

"Hey, I was eight and had never even held a tattoo pen before, give me a break," he scoffed in response, though laughing as well.

"Wait, but who's Jimin?" you ask curiously.

Taehyung's laughter stops immediately, and his face returns to the previously dark look. He gets up to walk away, and you're quick to hobble on one foot, grabbing onto his sleeve. "Wait, why're you leaving? Did I offend you?"

His face is steely as he looks at you, removing your hand from his sleeve. "You're not my Y/N, and you never will be. My Y/N wouldn't have left no matter what happened."

Your eyes widen at that. "Excuse me? I can't help the fact I have amnesia!"

"I don't give a damn about your amnesia. You said it yourself that we're strangers, and we're going to stay that way. The less you know the better," Taehyung spits.

You narrow your brows, glaring at him. "What the fuck, Taehyung? What are you even talking about."

"I repeat: the less you know the better."

His lips remained sealed, and you squint your eyes at him. He was dark and brooding on the outside, and desperately trying to remain the same on the inside. Or at least project that image. You wondered if this truly was the boy you were apparently best friends with during your younger days. Could little kids be brooding anyway? Somehow you couldn't imagine him as a bubbly little boy. Something had to have changed. You wondered if you had anything to do with it.

"What, do you know what happened?" The wheels in your brain begin to spin as you frantically try to prevent him from leaving. "Do you know the incident? What happened to me? Why I forgot everything?"

"I don't know anything," he says hastily.

"Liar!" Your eyes immediately catch the small quirk of his lip, a twitch of his sneer. "I can tell you're lying. I don't know how, but I do. That small quirk of your lip..."

He stops in his tracks, reaching up to his mouth, his face turning red with embarrassment. You know your assumption was correct, and you can't help but grin victoriously. "It doesn't mean anything," he excuses.

Your face softens, and you reach for his hand, glad that he doesn't flinch at your touch. "Taehyung- I need to know. It's why I came here. I feel like there's this big part of me that's been missing all this time. You might not know everything, but clearly you know something. It's clear you and I were best friends- why can't we be that again?"

He's frozen in your touch as you stare him in the eyes, searching for something. With your hand in his, though, you do feel some sense of familiarity. You haven't felt this in a long time.

He retracts from your touch as though burned, snapping out of his daze as he turns away from you. "Grow up, Y/N. I would've figured you would after all this time- but you're still childish as always."

"I thought you said I wasn't your Y/N," you say, desperately trying to reach for something to grasp onto.

"You're not. You never will be," he hisses, avoiding your stare as you attempt once again to make him look at you. It's as though it physically pains him to look at you. "We'll keep it that way."

"We're going to be neighbors now, Taehyung. You can't ignore me forever," you say stubbornly. "And if there's one thing I'm sure I've kept with me even from childhood, it's my ability to be a pain in the ass. We've got plenty of time to be together, and I'm not leaving without finding out what happened to me. You can either choose to help me or be annoyed for years on end until I figure it out on my own."

"Go to hell, Y/N. I told you that the less you know the better. After all, curiosity killed the cat."

You grin, finally succeeding in locking eyes with him again. "But satisfaction brought it back."

The house was littered with cardboard boxes by the time you were done moving everything. Between pestering your grandfather about getting some plants or paint to brighten the place up and overall wasting time, you were finally and truly blessed with Taehyung's presence once more. You were in the middle of unpacking a few of the items when Taehyung came into your room, his eyes roaming about the place before landing on you.

"Have you changed your mind?" you say hopefully, eyes lightening up with hope.

"No," he grunts, "your grandma just wants to know if you want to come down for a break. She made lemonade."

You sigh, slightly disappointed. "Yeah, sure."

"What's that?" His eyes narrow, brows furrowing.

You turn in his direction, seeing the tiny door. "Oh, this? I have no clue honestly. It was covered with a bunch of duct tape when I saw it, but it's kinda cool. No clue why anyone would need such a tiny door... especially since it doesn't lead anywhere."

You open it up, blowing at some of the dust on the door and brick. Taehyung glares at it, stepping forward before slamming the door shut.

"Leave it alone- it was taped up for a reason. I suggest you tape it back up," he says.

"Why?"

"I... I just have a bad feeling about it, ok?" He gets fidgety again, slightly irritated. "Now that I think about it, it was probably my mom who taped it up after you left. I hated that door since we were little."

"If you're not going to tell me then I won't tape it back up. It's in my room, there's nothing you can do about it. Besides, it leads to nothing. What's the big deal?"

"Y/N, you'll just get in trouble, and I'm the one who's going to have to drag you out and save your ass. I know you," he says.

Your mouth goes small. "You don't know me, though. I don't even know me."

There's silence between the two of you for a bit.

"Look, I'm sorry," he says. "I'm not being fair to you, and I've been nothing but rude. I guess I haven't moved on from the past, and it's not a good excuse. I held a grudge against you or what happened- honestly I don't know half of it. It wasn't your fault anyway, but with you leaving and getting amnesia I guess I never got over the feeling of abandonment. It's been ten years though, and I need to move on. Seeing you here has reopened some old wounds that were never healed... but it's not your fault."

"Taehyung..." You're momentarily stunned. "I don't know what to say."

"Well, don't read too much into it," he hastily says. "Tell you what, I'm going to be at home but I'm sure my folks won't mind if you drop by this afternoon. You can head back to my place and I'll tell you a few childhood stories regarding the two of us. Sound good? It's the least I can do."

"I'd love that!" You brighten up at the idea.

He holds up one finger, however, making sure you don't get too excited. "On one condition: you tape that little door back up. As I said, I've got a bad feeling about it."

You furrow your brow again. "It really freaks you out that much, huh?"

He presses his lips together in a tight line. "Do we have a deal?"

You grin. "Deal!"

He spits in his hand and holds it out, his cheeks flushing when he realizes. "Oh, uh, it's something we used to do. I should've realized-"

He's about to wipe his palm against his coat when you spit in your hand, shaking it with his without hesitation. "Don't worry about it. Just like old times, ok? We'll act like I never even left. This feels right." You look down at your hands and slightly grimace, pulling back and wiping it away. "Slightly gross, admittedly, but right nevertheless."

He's stunned, and you wave your hand before his face in an attempt to bring him back to reality. "Tae? You alright?"

"What? Sorry, dozed off there for a moment." For the first time, you see him smile, a warm glow filling your heart at the sight. "I just... I never really thought I'd get the chance to do that again. With you I guess."

You can't help but melt at the sentiment. "I'm not going anywhere this time, I promise."

Taehyung's mother looked like the spitting image of him, surprisingly enough. Save for the grey hairs and wrinkles around her eyes, she looked like him if she were a girl.

"Oh, Y/N! My, aren't you gorgeous? Look at that blue hair! You grew into the beautiful young woman I always knew you'd become. It's been so long- Taehyung just told me you were back," she said, smiling warmly.

"Hi, Mrs. Kim," you say. "Is Taehyung home?"

"Oh, he's outside gardening for me. He'll be right back. Why don't you head upstairs to his room and wait for him? He's supposed to be back any minute."

"Oh, thank you, ma'am!"

You begin to walk away when she takes your hand, redirecting your attention to her. She looks nervous, biting her lip. "Y/N... it's really good to see you again. I know Taehyung's happy about it too, though he has trouble expressing that side of him. He changed a lot once you left but... I don't want to get my hopes up, but maybe since you're back he can change back. I guess a mother can't help but want her little boy back, huh?"

Her smile is bittersweet, strained but sorrowful. You can't help but feel a sense of pressure put upon your shoulders, and you can only attempt to mimic her smile. "I'll try my best, Mrs. Kim. I'm glad to be back, too."

You didn't have the heart to tell her that you had absolutely no clue where his room was, but after wandering around aimlessly upstairs you eventually found what you could only presume would be his room.

It was simple. Frayed and faded posters of superheroes on his walls, and a small basketball hoop on the back of his door. It was surprisingly neat for a guy's room, but perhaps you just had a stereotypical expectation. Wiping your finger against the surface of the dresser, you note that there's no dust.

Your eyes flicker upwards towards a picture of three kids, smiling brightly. You recognize Taehyung immediately, his rectangular smile beaming brightly at you. To his left you see yourself, your face chubby and youthful, clinging tightly to his side as proof of your friendship. To your other side, there's another boy, his plump lips spread into a bright grin that stretched across his face.

Your heart stops.

A hand comes behind you, slapping the picture face down. You turn to Taehyung, his expression furious.

"Just what do you think you're doing, snooping around my room?"

"Sorry your mom just... she let me in," you say, stammering as you attempt to regain composure.

"That doesn't give you an excuse to stick your nose where it doesn't belong." His brows furrow, a crease between them. He sighs, running a hand across his face in frustration. "It was a mistake to invite you here."

"Who's this boy?" You don't touch the photo, but he knows what you're talking about, nevertheless.

"That's me," he says bluntly.

"No, the other one. With the long eyes and bigger lips."

He's quiet for a moment, looking away. "That's Jimin. He was friends with us when we were little."

"Where is he now? I recognize him, I don't know why. If you could tell me where he is maybe I can talk to him. He might be able to tell-"

"There's no point."

You pause, confused. "Why not? Did he move like I did or something?"

"No, he's... He's dead."

Your breath hitches and you feel your chest get tight. "No, that can't be right. That makes no sense."

"Well, he is," Taehyung says, expression angry. "He went missing right before you left. They announced him as dead not too long ago. About three years ago. Apparently, they do that if the person is missing for more than seven years."

Your face crumples along with his, the temperature of the room falling as you process the information. "I'm... I'm so sorry for your loss."

"It's your loss too, you know. He was best friends with both of us."

"Maybe so, but I don't remember any of it. I have no memories, he might as well be a stranger," you explain. "For you though... For you, he was much more than just a picture in a frame. I'm sorry."

You swear you see his eyes well up slightly, but he flops down on his bed, turning away from you. You wondered if you had a poor choice of words, reminding him once again that you remembered nothing, even the boy that meant so much to him. To both of you, apparently. "You wanted to hear stories about us when we were kids, right? To see if you remembered anything?"

"Yes." You sit next to him on the bed, bringing your knees up to your chest as you listen intently. "If you're ok with that, of course."

He hums, closing his eyes. "You, me, and Jimin were all best friends since diapers. We had every class together and were glued to the hip, so to speak. Everyone in this small town would say that when they saw even one of us, they could expect one of the other two. Some speculated both he and I would fight for your hand in marriage once we had grown- a running joke among the grown-ups.

"Jimin was the more gentle of us three. He was always the one to get between us and calm us down whenever you and I got into one of our usual spats. Even back then we couldn't help but bicker, so it seemed. I was the one who taught you how to ride a bike, only for you to accidentally run over me and into the bushes. He was the one to bandage the two of us up as we both argued over who was to blame."

His eyes flicker up to lock with yours, a small smirk on his lips. "It was totally yours, by the way."

You laugh heartily at that. "Agree to disagree, then."

You both chuckle for a moment.

"You know, we were each other's first kiss," he mentions. "We had decided if anyone was going to kiss you, it would be us, your two best friends. I mean, what did we know, we were like seven at the time. I'm pretty sure I missed your mouth anyway."

"Something tells me that memory would be a bit cringy to look back on."

"Yeah, probably," he smiles. Taehyung's gaze is far away for a moment. "I'm sure Jimin would disagree if he were here, though."

You're quiet for a moment. "Was his disappearance the... incident?"

"I can't really say for sure, honestly. As much as I know you want answers from me, there's only so much I know. I don't have all of the pieces, but I know the events are related. I have bits and pieces, and the only others who know anything are amnesiacs or ghosts."

"I appreciate you telling me this, though," you say honestly. "I know it must be hard for you."

He lays back on his bed, his back bouncing against the springs. "As much as I've gotten angry over you losing your memories, I think a lot of it is jealousy. I wish I could forget so easily."

"It's not the most pleasant thing, honestly. I feel like I'm missing this huge chunk of my life like I'm not even fully me, you know? I only know what I was like once I was twelve and after, basically once I hit puberty." You sigh, falling beside him. "It's hard to explain."

"I think I get it. It's like the missing pieces of the puzzle I mentioned before."

"Yeah you can think of it that way," you say. "I have some, but not enough to really tell what the image is."

"Are you having any luck at least?"

"I haven't even been here for a full day, so I can't really say," you mumble. "I think I'm getting a little bit from what you tell me. My grandparents are of no help. They think if I find out about the incident or whatever I'll be ruined. I suffer from bad dreams relating to it, apparently. After it happened I was even in shell shock or something, it was that bad."

"Maybe it is better to not find out, then."

"Well maybe if I find out I can find out what happened to Jimin." You sit up, looking down at Taehyung. "I might not really know you, but the old me did. Stranger or childhood friend, I'd like to give you some closure. I can tell you're torn up about it still, and I'm sure my reappearance has reopened old wounds. Your mother hoped that I could help you. The incident affected you, too, whether that's from me leaving, Jimin's disappearance, or something else entirely. Maybe I feel as though I owe you this much as an apology, or maybe it's just me being selfish. I do know, however, that my memories wouldn't affect just me. I would like to help you, and I can only pray I'll be able to handle whatever it was back then now that I'm grown."

He studies you for a moment, his eyes dark and brooding. "You know, the more I talk to you, the more you seem like your old self. Perhaps you never really changed, Y/N." His fingers come up to grasp an end of your blue hair, twirling a strand around his slender finger. You can't help but shiver at his touch, part of you yearning for more. "I can't tell you everything, Y/N. Not now at least. I can tell you this much, though. When you left, it crushed me inside. I dealt with the death of my best friend, and then my other just up and left. I had no one to lean on, who understood my pain. It was the first time in my entire life that I was completely and utterly alone. Depending on others was what ultimately destroyed me."

You lean into his touch, his fingers now grazing across your cheek. "Taehyung, I might not remember why I left, but I can honestly say I'm sorry for doing it. Me back then might've left, but I promise I won't. I won't leave you again. You're not truly alone- you never were."

He sits up, and your breath hitches, lungs tight as you realize how close he is to you. You're able to hear his soft breath, and at that moment you feel your heart race.

"You really are the same Y/N," he says, a quirk in his smirk as his thumb brushes over your lower lip, your mouth automatically parting for him. "You're still so naive."

You're frozen as he retreats from you, his warm skin against yours now absent as he stands up, leaving you alone in his room.

It's the middle of the night when you suddenly wake up, a sense of panic washing over your body as you sit up abruptly, a cold sweat covering your skin. All you could hear was your heavy breathing and the scamper of mice a floor above you. Was it a night terror? Or was it something external?

In an effort to slow your palpitating heart, you take deep breaths, closing your eyes. You weren't going to be able to fall back asleep, so it would seem. You sigh, getting up to turn on the light, figuring you could get a glass of water while you're up.

To your surprise, however, once you turn on the light you spy something peculiar. Leaning against the tiny door was a doll.

It wasn't any ordinary doll, though.

It looked exactly like you.

It had everything from your blue hair to the outfit you had worn earlier that day- a yellow raincoat and matching boots. The eyes were of buttons, charcoal black and staring blankly at you.

Excitement rose in your chest as you took it in your hand, examining it. It was closer to a rag doll than anything else, and you didn't feel any sense of dread or fear.

Who had made this?

In all honesty, you found it a bit cute. You were just weird like that.

An idea pops in your head, prodding like it had been ever since you first opened it. You rip the tape at the edges, using all your might and discarding them to the floor. You did promise Taehyung you'd tape it up, but he never said anything about taking the tape down, did he? Soon enough you're twisting the tiny knob, bracing yourself as you feel a harsh wind on your cheeks. Blue hair flying about your face, you look in awe at the tunnel before you, glowing and luminous. You were positive that it had only been brick before.

Were you still asleep? Was this all a dream?

Doll in hand, you crawl through the tunnel, venturing further into the surreal dream. What you could only describe as the sweetest scent filled your nose, and the most beautiful of music graced your ears.

Surprisingly enough, once you were at the other end, you were back in your bedroom.

But not quite.

The room was filled, the walls no longer faded. The shelves were filled with knick-knacks of toys and pictures. On your vanity mirror were written messages in dry erase marker, surprisingly enough in your handwriting. The room teemed with life, as one would suspect from their childhood bedroom.

This felt far more familiar, oddly enough.

You look about the room, touching the objects before you as though to make sure they're real. You even analyze the message on the mirror, Y/N WAS HERE! It was undeniably your handwriting.

Were you really here before?

"Y/N! Dinner's ready."

What?

You skip out of your room, amazed at the interior of the house. It was as though it got a makeover, teeming with life and personality, color everywhere just as you liked it. No longer the muted or faded colors back home. Your dream seemed to have good taste.

You head to the kitchen, surprised to see your grandmother, her back turned to you as she continued to cook. That wasn't what made you freeze, though. The first thing you noticed was that her wheelchair appeared to be missing.

"You're... You're standing!"

She turns, giving you a bright smile. Instead of her warm yet stern eyes, you're met with buttons. A pair of charcoal black buttons staring right at you.

"Of course I'm standing, silly girl," the woman laughs, "though this gives me quite a bit of nostalgia. To think, last time it was the buttons, and now it's the standing! Maybe you have changed since we've last seen you. My little girl, all grown up now." She smiles at you, reaching forward to pinch your cheek. "My, Y/N, how big you've grown! We've missed you so much. That's why I've prepared a feast to celebrate your return!"

"Where am I?"

"You always called it the Other World when you were little. Not very original, but it has grown on me. The name sticks!"

"I..." She looked exactly like your grandmother- what with the grey hair and leathery skin. Still, her tone and smile were far more youthful, like a glimpse of the young girl your grandmother once was, simply buried beneath wrinkled skin. Had it not been for her working legs and button eyes, you would've been fooled. "Do I know you?"

"Of course you do! I'm your Other Grandmother, of course. Your Other Grandfather is out. He just finished gardening, though."

"Gardening...?" You were pestering him earlier about planting some flowers or something, but never did you suspect he'd take you up on your suggestion. Perhaps your subconscious had recalled the events from earlier that day in order to manifest the scenario.

"I believe he's planting blue tulips. The ones that match your hair," she remarks, reaching forward to twirl one strand of your hair around her finger. "I must say, it suits you."

"Thank you."

Her eyes flicker down, noting the doll. "Ah, I see you've finally got our gift! We've been waiting forever to give it to you. You used to beg us for a doll just like that when you were little."

"So I've been here? Or am I just making this dream up as I go along?"

She laughs outright at that. "Of course this isn't a dream, my sweet girl. This is your other life, where you can simply melt the struggles and stress of life away. Here everything is right and as it should be. I, as your Other Grandmother, can walk, and your Other Grandfather gardens. The possibilities are endless, dear."

"So if I was here when I was little... could you tell me a bit about my childhood? Anything really as to why I left?"

Her lips purse slightly. "You were our favorite daughter, no doubt. We loved you very much- and we still do! All of us have been waiting for your return, and are overjoyed. You were a bubbly a bright girl. You and Jimin would always have such fun here."

"Jimin?" You perked up at that. "Can you tell me anything about him? Or Taehyung? Or our time here?"

"My dear, you really don't remember anything, do you?" She strokes your cheek sympathetically. "You three were best friends. All had crushes on each other from what I could tell- ah, young love. Puppy love, more like. You two would visit often and have so much fun. Sometimes one on your own, and sometimes two of you. You'd try to convince Taehyung to come if I remember correctly, but he never believed a perfect place like this could exist. Pity."

"Taehyung never came?" Your brows furrowed in confusion. "What about Jimin?"

"Ah, he visited most often! He loved it here, no doubt. He wanted to stay here forever. In your world, he had a lot of trouble. What kid didn't? You dealt with your grandparents' health and your feelings for your friends, particularly Taehyung. The boy could never reciprocate even then, so it seems. Jimin, on the other hand, had to deal with his parents' divorce. He was so distraught over it, he honestly spent most of his time here. That was fine with us, of course. You were the daughter we never had and he was the son we never had. This little place of ours was his escape, and we offered him permanent residence. He accepted."

"What happened to him?"

The Other Grandmother sighs, shaking her head. "I can't tell you that dear. He went missing and was never seen again. I don't think you'll see him again any time soon. His parents moved away, in fact, giving up on the case."

Your heart sinks. "So Taehyung was right... God, what am I going to tell him?"

"Don't fret over things such as that here, my sweet girl," the Other Grandmother assures you, her smile cheerful as she finishes cooking, putting it on a plate and handing it to you. "Here you can simply enjoy yourself and relax. With a snap of my fingers, the world is yours. Might as well call me a genie. Your wish is my command." She chuckles a bit at that.

You look down at the food, your favorite. The smell overwhelms you, and you find yourself salivating. Still, you shake your head, putting it in her hands. "I think I should head back- I need to process everything. If this really is a dream, though, I doubt I'd even be able to taste it."

"Suit yourself, dear. I won't be one to rush you. After all, patience to those who wait, though I've been so eager for your return," she said. "You can leave the way you came in, we'll be here for your next visit. Do promise you'll visit? I'll make sure to give you a special surprise."

"If I can," you say, wary. You clutch the doll, taking one last, long look at the woman as she returns to her busy work. You wander back to your room, crawling through the door and back into your real bed.

When you woke up, the doll was in your arms.

No... It was real?

You jolt up, combing your hair and rushing to Taehyung's house, knowing that your folks were very likely still asleep. You grabbed your bag, the little doll now tied to it like a little charm, and was on your way. To say Taehyung was surprised to see you in your pajamas was an understatement, as it was very evident that you had just rolled out of bed.

"You really do want to annoy me, don't you?" Taehyung sighed, shaking his head. "Do you know what time it is, woman? I'm pretty sure it's not even 6 AM. Or are you simply that eager to make childhood memories in adulthood that you rushed here for some sort of childish playdate?"

You ignore his taunting, pulling him towards you. "Taehyung- have you been to the Other World?"

"The what now?" His mind was clearly still trying to comprehend what you were saying, groggy in comparison to your alert enthusiasm.

"You know, the place where everything's great and people have buttons for eyes?"

"How many drugs have you tried since you left?"

"Three, now focus!" You analyze his face for a few moments, looking for any signs of comprehension. "You really don't know it?"

"No. But since you're here I have a bone to pick with you." His eyes cloud over as he wakes up a bit more, anger slowly replacing the drowsiness. "What'd you do with him?"

"With who?"

"Jimin."

"Taehyung... if I knew what happened all those years ago, I'd tell you. I'm so sorry-"

"Not actual Jimin, dumbass. The doll. What'd you do with him?"

"What? What on Earth are you talking about?" This time it was your turn to get confused.

"Don't fuck with me, Y/N. I know you're trying to retrieve your memories and all that, but don't start fucking around with me or my shit. That's your own mess to deal with, and I don't want to get involved. So stealing what was left of my best friend is crossing the line."

"I'm being completely serious right now- I have no clue what you're accusing me of."

He ran a hand over his face in frustration. "When you were in my room. The doll that looked exactly like Jimin?"

"Are you sure you didn't misplace it? I promise you that I have no such thing." Your features soften, and you try to place your hand on his arm to comfort him. Behind him, you use your other hand to reach for your bag, turning it around so that the doll that was tied to it wasn't visible. You wanted to hear what Taehyung was accusing you of, first. "Taehyung, I wouldn't steal from you. Lost memories or not, I don't want to hurt you. I'm slowly beginning to realize how much you meant to me, and I'm sure somewhere inside if both of us are those childhood best friends."

He tenses under your touch, a slight tremble in his lips, and for a moment your heart palpitates. The way he looks at you makes you feel as though he's about to kiss you. Perhaps you were simply projecting, however.

Instead, however, he ruins the daydream clouding your mind, moving away from your touch. "Alright, so you didn't take it. I'm sorry I accused you. I was just frustrated since I noticed it was gone."

You stare at your feet, trying to regain your composure. It wasn't like you to suddenly get flustered. Taehyung might've been the most attractive man you've known, but he was an asshole through and through. The Other Grandmother was right- he'd never reciprocate your feelings.

But you were a grown woman and not a childish preteen. You could handle rejection, and you weren't going to force your feelings on someone else in an effort to get a relationship out of them.

"I'll keep an eye out for it, don't worry."

"What is it that you came running over here for, anyway? I'm sure it's not to have a heartfelt chat," he grumbles.

You flush at that, the blood rushing to your cheeks. "I, um, figured out a bit more. About the three of us."

"Oh? So you're getting memories back?"

"Not exactly. Look, forget it, it was stupid of me to come here in the first place." Why was it that he was the first one to pop up in your mind once you woke up? "You won't believe me in the first place."

"Humor me," he says, crossing his arms. "You woke me up at this hour for a reason. I won't let it be for nothing."

You scratched the back of your neck, nervous. "How about this: I say a statement about our childhood and you confirm if it's true or not. I want to find out if the information I got was true."

He shrugs. "Seems fair enough. Shoot."

"Alright, first: Jimin's parents got divorced."

"True- though I could've even told you that. I wouldn't think that'd be that big of a deal," Taehyung remarks.

"Well, it was to him it seems," you mumble. "Second, I had a crush on you."

"Yeah, I guess. As much of a crush as a little kid could have, basically. Honestly, you and Jimin got along far better. I'm sure your grandmother or my own mom could've informed you, though."

You decided it was about time to jump to the big question- one that no one else could've told you. "Jimin and I used to convince you to go to some imaginary place with us when we were little, called the Other World where everything has buttons for eyes, and you'd always refuse."

His brows shot up, genuine shock in his features. "How do you know that? I thought you still had amnesia?"

"I do it's- you wouldn't believe me." You huffed, running your hands over your face. "So it's true?"

"I mean, yeah, but how the hell did you find that out?"

You didn't want to tell him about the Other World, with the little door and the revelations about Jimin and everything. He wouldn't believe you- not now at least. He might deserve some of the information you'd give, but he wasn't ready for the truth. You were still processing it, truthfully. An entirely different world just beyond a little door? Even you had to admit you sounded insane. You had to get more information first.

"I'll see you later, Taehyung."

"For the last time, Y/N, we are done discussing the matter," your grandmother fumed, her nostrils flaring. "First you run out of the house without informing us, and at 6 AM no less! Now you're pestering us about nonsense once again."

"There must be something you two can tell me about what happened to me. What happened to Jimin?"

Your grandfather turned to glare at you. "We told you before there's nothing we can tell."

"You raised me, there must be something. Unless you're deliberately hiding something from me," you accused sourly, digging into your oatmeal. You hated arguing during breakfast, but after your conversation with Taehyung, you were left in a sour mood.

"We may have raised you but you didn't spend much time with us. Most of it was with your friends," your grandmother informed you. "The reason we moved away was to keep you from whatever it was that had terrified you so greatly. I knew moving back was a mistake."

"Y/N, you must know we're doing this in your best interest. You were hysterical, and we still don't know what happened. It took you so long to recover. Do you think a military man who got deployed would wish to return to a battlefield? A survivor of attempted murder wishing to be alone with their attacker?"

"You don't get to decide for me anymore, though. I'm an adult and I have the right to know."

"We're telling you the truth. You never told us, and our first instinct was to get you out of there. Have you considered for a moment the possibility that ignorance is bliss? You may regret it once you get informed."

Your grandfather reaches forward, his leathery hand covering your own. "We still want to protect our little girl. It's what your parents would've wanted. Would you really want to throw your life away just like that? Just for a little bit of information? It may not be worth it, and you may just be wasting your time."

"This doesn't just affect me though. My moving affected Taehyung as well. He suffered here alone while I was whisked away."

"If you had seen the way you acted the moment we found you, you'd agree with our judgment. Taehyung didn't endure the trauma you did. We found you battered and bruised and catatonic, muttering 'buttons' over and over again. The next thing we knew, your friend was reported missing, never to be seen again! That could've been you. We tested our luck, and by that time it was only logical to send you someplace safe."

"Buttons?" Your brows furrow. "Why would I be saying buttons?"

Your grandma sighed, shaking her head as she pulled her own bowl of oatmeal into her lap, your grandfather getting up to help her. "Ignorance is a luxury, my dear. It'd be best not to squander it."

You picked at your late-night dinner, staring at your Other Grandmother's button eyes. She seemed to sense your suspicions, from how you refused to eat to how you'd simply look at her, analyzing her.

Buttons... buttons... what had happened here?

"Is something wrong, dear?" she questions, raising a perfectly arched brow. "This was one of your favorites when you were little. You loved chicken adobo."

You didn't doubt her. "Tell me a bit more about my time here. What would I do?"

"Oh! You'd do everything. From helping your grandfather here in the garden or helping me cook. You gave us as much love as we gave you." She seemed to melt at the memory, your Other Grandfather nodding in agreement. "And besides Jimin, you'd hang out with Taehyung!"

"Taehyung?" You visibly perked up at that, dropping your utensil, fully alert. "He was here? I thought he never came here."

"Oh, not that Taehyung, silly," she said, waving her hand. "The Taehyung here! The perfect Taehyung!"

"The perfect Taehyung?" He already looked like a god. Sure, he was a bit troubled, but who wasn't?

"Everything's perfect here. Including you." She reaches over to pinch your cheek, something you couldn't recall your actual grandmother doing once. You hear the doorbell ring, and your Other Grandmother clapped her hands, delighted. "Oh! Speak of the devil, he's here. I know you two are too old to call it 'playdates', but have fun! Not too much fun, of course. You're still my little girl."

"Taehyung?" You sit up, bolting from the table to the door. Opening the door, you couldn't help but be surprised. You should've seen it coming, though. Instead of those brooding eyes that would glare at you, filled with sadness and resentment, you were met with buttons. Cold, unfeeling buttons, that didn't display any emotions despite how he'd raise his eyebrows and smile at you.

"Y/N!" His arms wrapped around you, and you were stunned. His voice... was the same. And he looked like your Taehyung. It felt so strange to have him wrap you in a tight hug. You had been yearning for Tae's touch since you had gotten here, whether it was lust-driven or deeper, you didn't know. All you could hear was your heart pumping.

He steps back and you feel your Other Grandmother's hand on your shoulder. She leans in, a girlish giggle escaping her lips. "You know, you always had a crush on Tae. In this world and the next. It's good to see that things haven't changed. I think now that you've matured, though, you'll know who to pick."

She steps back momentarily before shrieking, stepping over to the porch to kick at the cat. "Oh, that damned cat!"

You turn to look at it, but it scampers off before you could get a look at it. "What was that about?"

"Oh, it just digs up in my gardens. Don't worry, I'll get it one day," she huffs before letting her usual serene smile spread over her face. "Now, why don't you two have fun? I'm sure you two have a lot to catch up on."

"Er... sure."

You look at Taehyung, about to awkwardly question him where he wanted to go before he wrapped his hand around yours. Your heart thundered in your chest, violently pounding as he smiled to you, tugging you along. "C' mon, I'll take you to our favorite place."

You had no choice but to follow along, completely dumbfounded. The Tae you knew would never be like this. He was so cold and aloof, as though your mere presence brought him pain. Despite it, you couldn't help but feel the emotions rise in your chest, as though they were now being awoken from their slumber. Feeling his hand in yours only confirmed the past feelings that seemed to reemerge.

This Taehyung already seemed different, though. He was more extroverted, friendly, warm. You didn't know what to make of it, though.

He looked the same save for the black buttons, and you had no doubt that you had been with this boy too during your childhood.

Was this what she meant by the perfect Taehyung? The one who would hold your hand and smile at you? Who didn't seem so sad and angry at everyone?

It wasn't long before the two of you had gone to a well, sitting on top of the lid. It seemed secure enough as Taehyung's back leaned against yours, your fingers still intertwined.

You missed this. Something told you that you did. His fingers locked so perfectly with yours, not too thick like a lot of men's, where your fingers would suffocate between his. No, it felt as though his hand was locked with yours. You wondered if the real Taehyung's hand would fit like this.

"Why's this our spot?" you questioned.

"Look up," he says, pointing up to the stars above your heads. "This was where we could see the stars clearest."

"They're beautiful." They looked closer to carefully stitched stars on a quilt, as though someone with master craftmanship managed to sew it together.

"The Other Grandmother is talented. She makes everything here beautiful so beautiful people can stay here."

"She made all of this?" you questioned, eyes widened. "Like, by hand?"

"Of course! It's like a Garden of Eden. She made everything perfect for you," he beams. His face softens as he thinks for a moment. "She kept it like this, though. Hasn't touched it since you left. We've been waiting for you to come back. I've missed you a lot."

"You have?" Was he even real? None of this seemed to be.

"Of course!" Other Taehyung grinned, wrapping his arms around you, this hug not as brief as the first. "I don't think I can remember a single day where I didn't think about you. I'm just glad you're back, y' know? Best not to dwell on the past. Just look forward to the future."

He truly was nothing like Taehyung.

"So... did the Other Grandmother make you too?"

His frowns slightly at that for the briefest of moments, but it disappears as quickly as it had appeared. "Yeah. I told you, she made everything perfect just for you. You'd always come here crying because of how mean Taehyung in your world was. He'd be so mean, paying more attention to Jimin than you, and didn't seem to like you back. So, she gave you a friend who would pay attention to you, be kind, return your feelings."

"So you loved me?"

"I was made to," he confirms. "But in a sense, everyone is, huh? I mean, that's what soulmates are supposed to be."

"I guess I should've taken you as a dreamer. Real-world Taehyung isn't."

"What's he like?" Other Tae's voice got a bit quiet, but he cocked his head to the side, curious. "I'm not supposed to ask, but I've always been curious."

"Well, he's cool. A bit cold and aloof, and a bit... sad. I know it must hurt him to see me, but I know he tries. He's not that good at it, but he tries. And... I think things can get better with him, y' know? He needs a friend."

"No, I mean why did you like someone who made you cry so much?"

"Oh." You think about it for a moment. Did you cry back the over him? You supposed you were far more sensitive back then, but now simply let his attempts to push you away bounce off. "I don't really know, to be honest. I don't think I'd truly know even if I did have my memories. We can't choose who we fall for, right? We don't choose soulmates. People fall for those who hurt them for different reasons, but I guess for back then I was just little. I didn't really think much of it, I suppose. I thought he was cute and he was still a little boy who wasn't concerned with the prospect of adult things such as love."

"So why do you still love him now?"

"What?" You snap your head in his direction, flabberghasted. "No, I don't. I mean, I'm attracted to him and all- but it's not what you think! I'm not like, 'Oh, I love bad boys!' because of his cold demeanor. He's kinda weird but I owe it to him and all to help him, right? I mean... right? And he's the only person around here who apparently knew me, other than in the Other World, ha... But I don't love him. I don't even like him. Nope."

Other Taehyung simply looks away, a small quirk to his lips. "You really haven't changed, huh?"

"I'll tell you one thing- you're the exact opposite of him. Usually, I'm the one who's asking him questions."

"I'm supposed to be perfect, remember?"

"Yeah..." Your eyes drift, and soon you spot a small calico cat. "Oh my God, is that the cat?"

"That's him- you don't want to talk to him though. Other Grandmother- oh, well, nevermind."

"Aren't you a cutie! A boy calico cat! Other Taehyung, do you know how rare these are? One in three thousand!" You pick up the cat, scooping it in your arms as you pet it. He purred in your arms. "You're just adorable, aren't you?"

"Y/N... you should really put it down. Other Grandmother really won't like-"

"Oh please, she's just not a cat person. She should chill," you say. "Hey... why doesn't this one have button eyes? I thought everything here did. Hell, I even saw a fly with buttons for eyes."

"It's just a weird cat, Y/N. Can we please go? Please put the cat down," he insists.

"Alright, alright. I don't know if you're allergic or something, but whatever." You huff, putting down the calico. It rubs against your legs, purring still as it stays by your side. You scratch behind its ear, grinning. "I think I'll name you Mochi because you're cute enough to eat!"

"Don't give it a name!" Other Taehyung says, a worried tone as he takes your hand, walking you along. "Come on, it's probably about time you go home."

"What? But I don't-"

"Just trust me, ok?"

"Why should I?" You yank your hand from his grip. "I barely know you."

"You trust your Taehyung, don't you?"

"I mean..."

"We're two sides of the same coin, as hard as it may seem. Please. I'll see you soon, ok?"

You sigh, knowing you weren't going to get your way. He seemed genuinely stressed and worried, and real or not, you found it impossible to deny the guilt you were beginning to feel at his concern. "Alright, fine. I'll see you soon, Other Tae."

"Thank you. I'm sorry."

You didn't know exactly what he was apologizing for but decided not to pry. It seemed to be the only thing he shared in common with real Taehyung so far.

"You don't by any chance hate cats, do you?" you question, looking skeptically up towards your grandmother.

She quirked a brow, looking up from her morning paper, like the old lady she was. You couldn't think of a single person under forty who didn't use the internet to find out the news. "No, of course not. I'd have ten if your grandfather wasn't allergic, and even then, he's more of a dog person. You remember how he'd always go on about that pooch he had back in the seventies."

"Yeah, I remember," you murmur. "Well, are there any cats around here?"

"Only a stray I caught up on our roof the other day. I have no doubt he's made millions of paw prints on top, but Lord knows it would be a miracle for me to ever see them, especially in this damned wheelchair. No matter, though, even in my prime I was scared of heights. Don't worry about the cat, though, he came down eventually."

Your ears perked up at that. "What'd the cat look like?"

"Deary me, darling, since when were you so invested in those fluffy little things? I thought you were like your grandfather: a dog person," she says.

"Please answer the answer, Grandmother."

"Oh, let me see. It had some spots on it, like orange and brown and a bit of black. Mainly white, though."

"So a calico?"

"Ah, yes! That's the word. Calico," your grandmother hums.

"Is it alright if I go to Taehyung's house?" you question, getting up from the table.

"Oh, alright. I'm glad you two are friends again. I used to tell your grandfather that you missed him even when you didn't know he existed," she said, smiling. "I was more or less rooting for Taehyung back in the day. Your grandfather not so much, I'm sure he'll give me the five bucks he's owed me for fives years by the end of the week. I've always had an advantage of course- you had a bit of a crush on him when you were younger. Guess old habits never change."

She seemed to be right in that regard.

"You can't seem to stay away from me, can you?"

"Of course not, you're irresistible," you mutter to Taehyung, pushing past him. "I've got a normal question for once."

"That in itself makes it the opposite of normal."

"Whatever. Tell me, is there a stray calico around here?" you question, looking up at him.

"There is. My mom likes to feed it, but she can't settle on a name. I think this week the name's Pudding," he says. "You didn't come here for me to just give you the name of a cat, did you?"

"No, but you need to help me find it," you say, grabbing his hand to tug.

"You're joking right?" he asks, a ludicrous expression on his face. "I might have something to do."

"No, you don't. You're just going to stay inside and watch Netflix all day, aren't you?"

"You just say that because everyone our age does that."

"Am I right?"

"Do I really have to answer?"

"Then let's go."

"If you really think I'm going to climb a tree to get some goddamn cat, you're dumber than I thought," Taehyung huffs.

You both stare up the tree, a particular high branch acting as a perch for the calico. His tail swished back and forth, gleaming eyes staring down at the two of you. Watching, observing. You place the bag down, the doll at the very bottom of it to keep from Tae's prying eyes. You begin to wipe your hands against your shirt, drying them.

"I named it Mochi," you say. "It's a boy."

"You've met it already?"

"Something like that," you mutter, walking up to the tree and grabbing hold of a lower branch.

"Woah woah woah, what do you think you're doing?" Taehyung tugs you back. "That's way too high and dangerous for a person to do. You could fall and get hurt."

"Didn't we climb trees as kids?"

"None like that. Just leave the cat alone, it'll come down if it wants to," Taehyung says.

"I just want to get a closer look at Mochi," you say, releasing yourself from Taehyung's grip to proceed.

He doesn't let you off that easily though, yanking you back down and blocking your way, crossing his arms. At that moment you could truly observe how much larger he was, chest built and shoulders broad, his height allowing him to tower over you. He truly was a man and not the little boy from the pictures.

You glare at him, observing. You couldn't help but think back to Other Tae, Regular Taehyung's eyes slowly being replaced with buttons and his frown being replaced with a smile. "Say, did you like me back when we were little?"

He seemed surprised by your sudden question. "What? Where'd that come from?"

"Just answer the question."

"I mean," he huffed, trailing off as he scratches his head, perplexed, "I probably did. You were a girl and I was a boy and I only hung out with you and Jimin. I guess I did."

"I don't want you to guess. Did you like me back?"

"Yes? Uh, yes. I did." His ears burn red. "What's this about?"

"Do you think the reason you're so mean to me and push me away could be because of the lack of closure that was brought upon by my leaving? Therefore leaving you in a confused state where you treat me in the same way a little boy treated his crush because you couldn't comprehend the transition of our relationship from kids into adults?"

"What?"

"I mean I'd get it if you're just letting out the resentment you feel because I left before, but from the sound of it, you acted similarly when we were little. And your behavior does remind me of an elementary schooler. Not that I think you still harbor any feelings towards me, but perhaps you don't know how else to act around me."

"Where's all of this coming from?"

You shook your head. "Ah, nevermind. I didn't mean that."

"Wait, hold up, you can't just analyze people like that and expect-"

"Shush, the cat's coming down!" Indeed, it was, jumping from branch to branch until it was at the closest one. You reached out tentatively, the cat preening and rubbing its head against your hand, purring. You couldn't help but smile. "That's a good Mochi. You're a sweet boy, aren't you?"

"Are you here just to waste my time?" Taehyung huffed. "I like cats as much as the next person, but I'm more of a dog person."

"Shush for a moment," you say. "Mochi, do you remember me, boy? Back at the well?"

Mochi's ears seemed to prick up at that, and he immediately jumps off the tree, scampering off. You grab Taehyung's hand, and before he even has time to protest you're running through the woods, dodging trees in an attempt to keep up with the cat.

"Hurry up! You've got longer legs than me, you should be faster," you scold him, your hand tight in his.

"I'm trying! You've always been a faster runner than me!"

You couldn't help but gloat at that.

You let out a shock of amazement when you find yourself at the well. It was covered in dirt and plants, though, ivy growing around it and mud caking every surface.

Taehyung breathed heavily, trying to regain composure. "God, you know, for a moment there it felt like the old days of you dragging me through the woods to follow your hairbrained schemes."

You ignored his reminiscence, however. "Taehyung! Mochi found the well!"

You looked to the cat, sitting delicately on the top of the covered well, staring at you expectantly. You lower yourself to his level, staring it in the eye. "You understand me, don't you?"

"Y/N, you're talking to a cat. Are you sure you aren't going crazy? How'd you even know about this place?" Taehyung brushes some of the dirt off of the surface, avoiding touching the cat. Mochi ignored Taehyung's hesitance, however, rubbing against Taehyung's hand, yearning for his touch.

You loosen the well's top, sliding it over to the side as the cat stayed on top. It wasn't until you had it drop to the ground that Mochi jumped off. You looked inside, only seeing pitch black.

"Because it's our favorite spot."

"You and Mochi's?"

"No, you and me. Well, not exactly you," you say.

"I don't follow."

"Sit down," you say, tugging on his sleeve so he sits with you on the edge of the well. "You're not going to believe me. You didn't believe me and Jimin ten years ago, from the sound of it, but you need to listen to me."

"Y/N, what's going on-"

You grab his face in your hands, forcing him to make eye contact, your faces inches apart. "Taehyung."

He stays quiet, a signal that he was listening.

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes. "There's this world that Jimin and I had accessed before, ten years ago. It's exactly like this world but... better. It's so cloudy and gloomy here, and there it's always bright and warm. The feeling is like when you sink your teeth into a freshly baked batch of cookies, you know? There's this tiny door I use to access the place, and when I say it's magical, it truly is. The people are there, too. But... not. For one, my grandmother can walk, and everyone has these button eyes... including you."

"Wait, what? Me? I'm in this 'world'? And I have buttons for eyes?"

"Yes. It's not really you. It's something my Other Grandmother made for me- all of it was made for me, and even Jimin at some point. So the version of you there is nothing like the one you really are, here, in this world."

"How so?"

"He loves me."

Taehyung's quiet at that. You continue. "I had a crush on you when we were little, and you were always mean to me, similar to how you are now apparently. So the Other Grandmother gave me a version of you that finally felt the same way about me. He was made to love me in your absence, I suppose. She called him the Perfect Taehyung."

"What's the point of you telling me all of this?"

"Because," you say, jumping up excitedly, "that's where the answers are! The incident, I'm sure it happened there! And I think it'll help you find out where Jimin went, too. I can bring you there and we can get answers. I know the Other Grandmother knows more than she leads on, and she's kind, she'll tell us. Especially if you tell her-"

"If you and Jimin went to this world, why didn't I? We were a trio, inseparable," Taehyung interjects.

"Jimin and I were dealing with things that required a place to escape. I had to deal with my grandparents' health and you not reciprocating feelings, while Jimin had to deal with his parents' divorce. Can you think of something like that you were dealing with at the time?"

"No," he admits. "I was a happy kid."

"That's hard to believe," you snort. "Nevertheless, Other Taehyung- that's what I call that version of you, by the way- is willing to help me find out information. You two are supposed to be like two sides of the same coin, he said. He said if I trusted you, I should trust him."

"You trust me?"

"I do."

"What does a cat have to do with any of this?"

"The cat is the only thing in that world that didn't have button eyes. I'm confident this is the same cat. Mochi was here with me when Other Taehyung and I went to the well. The Other Grandmother wasn't fond of him, either, which is weird. That means she didn't make him like she made everything else. He's... special."

Taehyung didn't say anything, soaking in your information.

"Tae, please, come with me and I can show you-"

Taehyung looks away before standing up, a shadow cast across his face, as though he refused to believe you. "Y/N... stop."

"What? Stop what?"

"Stop this. Stop playing with my head and stop playing with your own. This Other World isn't real, and you need to face reality. You're probably dreaming this stuff as a way to cope with the missing information, to piece everything together. You're living in this fantasy ever since you remembered the game you and Jimin used to play."

"But Jimin-"

"Jimin is dead," Taehyung said harshly, glaring at you. "He's dead, Y/N. End of story."

You fumed, stepping up to him and meeting his eye. "Give me a chance to show you. I'm not crazy, and I'm not making this stuff up."

"Leave me out of this, Y/N."

"No!" you shouted, grabbing onto his sleeve before he could walk away. "You're in this as much as I am! You've reminded me that you weren't the only one affected by the incident. Every action I make does impact you to some degree. We're childhood friends, Taehyung. Don't tell me you don't care about me anymore."

He grits his teeth, clenching his jaw. "It's only human to care."

"No, you know what I mean. You care about me the same way I care about you, perhaps more so. You remember the little me who got a dumb tattoo and had a stupid crush on you. I'm still that girl, just a bit more mature. And I know somewhere behind all that adult angst you're the little boy who enjoyed life more than his two friends."

"Y/N-"

"You loved me. I loved you. We're still the same people we were back then, Taehyung, just a few inches taller and just a few scars more. I feel so intensely for you, and I don't even remember the majority of our time spent together. So what about you?"

Taehyung pulls from your grip. "You're just reopening old scars, Y/N."

"Well, there are some things that time won't heal! And this is one of them! We've got an opportunity, and..." Your argument dies in your throat when you see him begin to cry, eyes glassy as fast tears fall down his cheeks. "Taehyung?"

He wipes them away, taking a step back as he looks at you with a pained expression on his face. "You don't know when to stop, do you? You never have."

"Taehyung..."

"I'm damaged, Y/N. I'm so damaged. I'm selfish and I had always dreamt of you coming back to fix me, you know? I thought you'd take away all of the pain but instead, you bring more. I can't ask you to fix me, that's no one's responsibility but my own, and I can't put my burdens on your shoulders."

"Taehyung, I'm more than willing to help you. That's all I was intending-"

"You're not helping, though!" he snaps back. "At some point, you've got to put intentions aside and really think about what you're doing. It doesn't matter how good your intentions are if you're hurting someone, is it?"

You didn't have anything to retort that.

"That's what I thought," he sighed. He tentatively steps forward, holding your cheek with such tenderness you would've thought you were made of glass. Instead, you realize it was because he was the fragile one, as though he were afraid that even touching you would break him. "I do still love you. I do still care about you. We are the same people we were, deep down, and I can never stop loving by best friends: the lost boy and the amnesiac. It's because I love you that I want you to do what I never could- move on. You're given a chance I wasn't, and you're not as shattered as I am. If you continue this path you're going to hurt yourself. Save me that pain, at least, ok? Give me at least a little hope, even if it's for you."

You didn't realize it, but your eyes had started to well up with tears. You attempt to hold him in your arms, to hold him close and console him, but he slips away too quickly. He turns aside, Mochi at his heels and in front of him, as though trying to stop him. Taehyung simply stops, moving the cat aside with his foot, carrying on until he disappeared back in the direction you two came from.

You sit back on the well with Mochi, stroking his fur as you wonder where you went wrong.

Ultimately you decide to go back to Taehyung's house the next day, spending a little less than 24 hours contemplating the argument from before. It was evening when you found yourself on his front porch, dampening the welcome mat with the water that you had soaked you to the bone, despite the yellow rain apparel you adorned. Damn thundershowers.

"What do you want, Y/N?" he questions in lieu of a greeting, an exasperated look on his face. He was only wearing a tee and sweats and judging from the lack of cars outside, you assumed he was home alone. He seemed to already know it was you, almost as though he were expecting you to come to visit him and annoy him further.

You suck in a deep breath. "I just wanted to say that... I'm sorry."

He seems surprised at that.

"I am," you continue, "and I know that what I've done has only hurt you more than intended. Bringing up the past and dragging you through memories you don't want to revisit, it has to hurt. I demand answers from you that you don't have yourself, and I know you want to forget. Regardless of what I think, I can't force you to do anything. If you choose to forget, so be it. I have to respect your decisions when it comes to coping, even if they don't coincide with my own. It's unfair of me to assume you're the answer to everything, to all of my problems.

"You said before that you used to fantasize about me fixing you. I used to think the same thing. I thought one moment with you would bring upon a flurry of memories, and I'd be... whole again. And it didn't happen. But I kept trying. I kept thinking that if I spent time with you, the person who was one half of my world when we were younger, I'd be fixed. But we can't expect someone else to be our savior. That's unfair to them. You were mature enough to realize that, but I wasn't. I pestered my grandparents into bringing me back, undoubtedly hurting them too. I hurt you the most, though, and I'm really, really sorry. I was being selfish and thinking only of myself. You deserve better."

There's a pause, only the continuing rain to fill the silence.

Suddenly, Taehyung laughs.

"You know, when we were younger you'd never apologize for anything. You were just stubborn, and you never liked to admit when you were in the wrong."

You offer a weak smile. "Good to know that I matured at least a little bit."

You share that moment for just a bit, a mutual understanding reached between the two of you. You remember something and opened the bag you always carried around with you. "Oh, there's one more thing I have to tell you, though. You mentioned this doll that looked like Jimin, and I swear I didn't take that one, but right when I got here I got one that looked like me..."

You take out the doll, seeing how Taehyung's face pales in comparison. "What? What's wrong? I swear I won't ask about it, but it seemed imp-"

"Get rid of it," he whispers.

"What?"

"Y/N, please..." He lets out an exasperated sigh, pulling you inside. "Please, just get rid of it."

"Why, though?"

"Why do you always have to ask questions?"

"Because I want to know, why else?"

"Because it's just like the doll Jimin had! Before... before he died," Taehyung said. "I can't lose you too, Y/N. There are too many coincidences. You're just like him before he went away. Talking about some other world, carrying around that... that thing. Please, please just-"

"Ok, ok!" You grab the doll, throwing it into the rain. It fell into a puddle of mud and rain. You close the door behind you. "It's gone, it's gone ok? Calm down, please. It's gone now."

Taehyung grabbed onto your shoulders, forcing you to make eye contact with him. "Don't go to this... this world. Dream or not, I don't know, don't go. I can't lose you, too. Y/N, please don't. It was a mistake for you to come back. You should've stayed where you are. Why can't you just leave it at forgetting? It's safer. This place, I don't know what it is or who it is, something's doing what they did to Jimin to you. You can't call me crazy or paranoid, because you're going on about button eyes and other people and cats in two worlds! I can't just stand aside and see what happened to Jimin happen to you. I tried to ignore it before, convincing myself I was trying to connect dots that weren't there, but if anything happens to you... I couldn't live with myself."

"Taehyung, I'm ok, I promise-"

"No, you're not! You're eating yourself up trying to find out the truth, just like I did. And it's driving you down the same path that led Jimin to his death. On and on he'd go on about some other world just like yours and carried around a little doll just like yours, and he's dead now. Get it in your head, Y/N. You can't go back to that place. You need to get as far away from here as possible."

"I told you I wasn't going anywhere-"

"I can't risk losing another person I love!" Tears are streaming down his face once again. "I love you, ok? Whether it's you now, a grown woman, or us as kids, where we'd just fight and play and do dumb shit. Jimin was like a brother to me and I couldn't stop his death."

"I'm not just the little girl you used to know, though."

"No, you're not! You're a woman who's too curious for her own good, trying to unravel a mystery and the truth despite the objections of everyone. You listen only to your own voice and you care for people beyond repair despite the fact you truly have no responsibilities for their burdens. And goddammit, you might be annoying but I fucking love you, ok? One way or another. So please, for once listen to me."

"Taehyung..."

His eyes search your own, as though trying to see some sort of answer, some sort of confirmation that you were going to finally listen to his words. He smashed his lips to yours, and you find yourself immediately responsive, arms hooking around his neck as he pulls you up, your legs finding their way around his waist.

It's so fast, you stripping off your rain boots and jacket along the way. Before you know it your back bounces against a mattress. You didn't have long to process, however, Taehyung crawling over you to kiss you again, his tongue diving into your mouth and exploring every inch. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to memorize the feeling of his body against yours, the movement of his lips, the feeling of the moment right now.

"Taehyung," you gasp between kisses, his lips never leaving your own for long. It isn't until he's kissing the side of your neck that you're able to properly speak. "Taehyung, please."

"What is it, baby?" he rasps into the side of your neck, the word ringing in your head.

"Wanna taste you," you say, clinging onto his clothes to bring him impossibly closer, despite the fact his broad chest was pressed already so tightly to your own.

"Mm, I like the sound of that," he hums lower, his voice baritone. He climbs off of you, and you miss the absence of his warm body, but all thoughts of that are forgotten when he starts to undo the drawstring to his sweatpants.

You find yourself kneeling in front of him, licking the fabric of his underwear before seeing his semi. He was already a bit bigger than expected, and the thought of him stretching you out only excites you. You hold him in your hand, licking from base to tip before going back down, sucking a sack into your mouth as you pumped his shaft.

"I want to be in your mouth," he groans, one hand going down to tangle into your blue hair. "No hands. If I wanted hands I'd just do it myself."

You obey, letting go of his dick to begin sucking at the tip, hollowing out your cheeks as you bobbed your head, slowly taking him further down your throat, inch by inch. You weren't capable of deep throating him, however, as he was a bit bigger than guys you were used to. He didn't seem to mind, though, simply enjoying the sight of you on your knees. The deeper you went, the messier it got. Soon enough you were choking not only on his dick but on your own spit.

"Fuck, you're so good at sucking cock," he praised, his hand moving your head how he pleased up and down his dick. He lets you take a breath, a trail of saliva connecting your mouth the tip before snapping off. "Where'd you learn to suck cock like that, baby?"

"College," you smiled. "Never sucked a cock this big, though."

It was true. He was now fully erect and at attention, an inch or two more than what you were accustomed to, and just as girthy.

He chuckled lowly, "Is that right? You think all of it will be able to fit inside that tight cunt of yours?"

"Make it."

"Fuck, you're nasty."

He lets go of your hair, pulling you up to the mattress. It's not long before you're stripped down to your underwear. You curse yourself for not wearing something cuter, not expecting to get laid when you came to apologize to Taehyung.

You wondered to yourself for a moment if Taehyung was using sex as a means to persuade you, stringing you along by your feelings in an attempt to get you to obey him. Did he really love you and care for you as he said he did? Did he really want to have sex with you? Or was this just a means of getting his way?

You didn't have much time to think about it, however, his large hands spreading your thighs apart, revealing your vulnerable cunt to him. He licked his lips, looking you in the eye.

"Looks good enough to eat," he joked.

"Then do it already," you snapped, impatient.

"God, you're such a bitch," he growled, diving down to lick a stripe up your folds, earning a shudder from you. "But you're my bitch, aren't you? My little bitch in heat."

"Fuck, just shut up and keep going."

He did as he was told without further commentary, flicking his tongue to collect as many juices as he could, sucking harshly at your clit to make you squirm. With the way he was pinning you down to the bed, there was really nothing else you could do other than lay there and take it, staring him in the eye as best you could until you simply tossed your head back into the sheets, curling your hands into his hair, making tight fists.

He seemed pleased, hissing with pleasure as you yanked at his scalp, a fellow masochist. It only pushed him further, his mouth devouring you whole as he urged you to get closer to your high, never slowing down to take a breath. It was as though he wanted to die between your thighs, and if he continued for even five more seconds, you'd let him do just that.

Suddenly it stopped, though, and you're giving him a look of frustration, sitting up to scold him. He simply looks smug in response, his lower face covered in a clear sheen of your juices. He licks his lips, wiping his face with the back of his hand.

"The fuck was that for?" you question, huffing as he pins you back down to your back.

"The first time you cum, I want it to be on this fat cock," he clarifies.

You reach between the two of you, stroking him as you spread your legs invitingly. "Do you need a written invitation?" you ask, quirking a brow.

"God, you really are a bitch," he groans, aligning himself with your entrance. The two of you let out a groan of pleasure once he begins to sink in, the tip beginning to dive into your tight walls. You were so wet, though, you didn't doubt that you could take all of him.

"Oh yeah, fuck, call me a bitch again," you demand, gritting your teeth as he sinks in deeper.

"Such a bitch, my little bitch," Taehyung says, following your orders, too focused on the pleasure of your hot walls enveloping him. "Tight, nasty little bitch, all mine for the taking."

"All yours," you promise, your legs hooking around his waist, digging your heels into his ass to drive him further.

"G-going to stop being a brat then? Stop being a bitch and listen to me?" he questions, past the halfway point.

"You don't own me," you gasp out, feeling how completely he was filling you.

"O-own this tight little pussy, though, fuck!" You both hiss, concentrating on the pleasurable stretch of your walls to accommodate his girth as he bottomed out into you, the head kissing your cervix. Never before did you feel as full as you did now, as though his thick cock was made to be inside of you. The pleasurable stretch was unlike anything you were used to.

"Yeah, you own it, nothing can compare," you say. "Please, move already."

"You ready?"

"Yes, move already."

He doesn't need any further prodding, slowly moving his hips to rock into you. You both groaned, moaning as his hips slapped against your own, the pace increasing gradually.

"Fuck, this pussy was made for me," Taehyung says, his cock beginning to pound into your cervix, bruising it. “Look at me fucking you. So big you can see how deep I am.”

You looked down, seeing how he fucked you, your belly protruding from the size of him. He was so big, filling you up, that you could practically see him in your guts, impossibly deep.

"Oh my god, Tae, right there." Your nails stretch down his back, nails digging in as you moan unabashedly."Keep going, don't stop!"

"Right there?" He stimulates your g-spot, and you're unable to contain yourself, eyes beginning to roll into the back of your head due to pleasure.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, I'm close," you moaned, the wanton sounds causing Taehyung's balls to tighten.

"Yeah? Gonna cream on this fat cock, nasty bitch?"

You weren't even able to answer, mouth agape as he slithered a hand between the two of you, rubbing your clit. That was all it took for you to go over the edge, white-hot bliss spreading all the way to your fingertips.

He throbbed inside of you, ready to burst, ready to fill you up. "Fuck, that's it, get my dick nice and wet, that's a good little bitch," Taehyung praises, continuing to pound into you to help you ride out your orgasm.

It isn't long until he follows after you, bottoming out as he holds you close, painting your walls white. The two of you breathe heavily, holding each other close, trying to process what happened.

"I have a spare change of clothes for you, and you can take a shower here if you want to spend the night," he offers.

You're quiet for a moment, turning your back away from him, his arm still around you so that you were now spooning. "Did you want to have sex with me? Or is it just to convince me?"

He's quiet.

"I've wanted to have sex with you for a long time. Even when we were little. After you moved, I thought about what you'd look like. I think I had my first wet dream about you when I was around twelve, in fact. When I got the talk, I used to think you'd be the girl I'd lose it to. We'd both lose it to each other before college and all that stuff."

"And?"

"And I wanted more, too, I think. I liked you even when we were little. I was crazy about you."

"Then why were you so mean to me?"

"I was a boy who didn't know how to express how he felt." He laughed a bit at that. "I was the kid who'd tug at your pigtails to annoy you, and Jimin'd have to scold me. Maybe you're right. Maybe I still act like that around you because that's all I know. I did feel the same way you did about me, though. I was just too scared to tell you."

"So why'd we have sex now? Why didn't you tell me any of this?"

"Because I guess I'm still scared. I don't want to drag you into my problems. I don't want to hurt you. I want to keep you safe, but when I freaked out all I could think of was 'I'm losing her for real this time'. All these years all I've ever wanted to do was kiss you, and not in the way we did when we were little and wanted to just get it over with. I wanted to for real kiss you, and it just went from there. Do you regret it?"

"No, I don't. I wanted it, too. For a while." You turn around to face him again, face to face. "I don't need you to be my hero, Tae. We can help each other, support each other, in fact. We can be there for each other. It doesn't mean we've got to depend on the person to fix us. It's more like the person who holds the pieces as you glue them back together, you know? We help each other fix ourselves. That's all we can do."

He smiles a bit at that, shuffling a bit closer so that his nose brushes against your own. "I'd like that."

It's past midnight, and you sit in front of the door, contemplating. You had snuck out of Taehyung's, still wearing his clothes and smelling like him, all because you couldn't sleep. You knew why. The familiar skitter of the rats in the attic made sure to keep you equally restless now, unable to doze off even if you climbed into your own bed. You told Other Taehyung you'd come to see him. But what if none of it was real? What if you really were delusional or dreaming? The actions you were taking were hurting the real Taehyung.

You contemplated your choices, pondering.

Ultimately it was your life. You didn't want to hurt Taehyung, but he couldn't make his choices for you. You'd have to leave him be for him to heal since there was no way for you to rest like this. You look behind you, making eye contact with the doll tied to your bag, the buttons unblinking.

Jimin had a doll just like it and was in the world with you. Dream or not, you've got to find out what happened to him and you.

Sorry, Tae, but one of us has to know what happened to Jimin. I wouldn't want to die without anyone knowing what happened to me.

You swing open the door, crawling through the tunnel and into the exact replica of your room. You don't bother looking around, finding your way easily to the Other Grandmother, a pleasant smile on her face as she holds up a plate of pancakes, chocolate chips making the smile.

"There you are!" she says. "I've been wondering where you'd be. I made you your favorite!"

"It's not breakfast time, though."

"Where's your sense of wonder, Y/N? Who cares what time it is? It's always time for chocolate chip pancakes," she laughs.

You look down at it, pushing it away as you stare at those black, button eyes of hers. "I'm not a little girl anymore."

She frowns at that. "I know that. I just wanted to live out the good old days, you know?"

"That'd be with Jimin, though. He's not around."

"That's right. Pity. I miss the boy," she sighs, taking back the plate. "Fine, if you're not going to have pancakes, what do you want?"

"I don't want any food, right now."

"Oh? Don't tell me you filled up already," she chuckled. "Midnight snack?"

"Tell me what happened here ten years ago."

Other Grandmother simply let out a sigh, turning back to you. She wore a disappointed look, the same way a parent looks at their child throwing a tantrum for the tenth time. "My my, you say you're all grown up but you haven't changed one bit. You still make demands of me when I literally give you the world."

You sit down in the chair in front of her. "What's it going to take for you to stop dodging my questions? I just need to find out the truth."

"Don't you like it here, Y/N? Isn't the grass greener, isn't magic in the air? Aren't I nicer than your grandmother? Isn't Other Taehyung in love with you?"

"Yes, but-"

"I've given you everything you asked for, Y/N. Ten years I've waited for you, keeping everything exactly how you liked it, and here you are, unsatisfied as always. I never even got a thank you." You feel guilt pool into the pit of your stomach, and you feel like a child being rightfully scolded by their parents.

You look into your lap, lowering your lashes. "Thank you."

Her smile returned to her face, washing away the glimpse of sadness and disappointment. "See, that wasn't so hard? I raised you just as much as your real parents did, possibly more. They couldn't give you the attention a child such as yourself needed, what with their health and all. Why you'd be so damaged if I left you to be neglected."

Damaged. Your mind wanders back to Taehyung.

"Where's Other Taehyung?"

"About time you think of the boy. He loves you so much, he's been waiting for you in the garden since you left. Make sure to return here, though. I'm willing to tell you the truth if you really wish to hear it."

Your ears perk up at that, and you open your mouth to question her further, but she holds a delicate hand up to silence you. "Go to the boy first. I made him specifically to love you, and love you he shall."

You turn on your heel to go to the backyard. You barely paid attention to the bright colors and the sweet scents of the flowers, brilliant in comparison to the sludge you had to call a backyard. No, instead you made a beeline for the boy in the center, strangely enough sitting on the biggest pumpkin you've ever seen. You didn't pay much attention to it, though.

"Tae! Other Tae!"

His head whips around, his puppy-like smile gracing his lips as he sees you. "Y/N!" he calls back, your name a siren call.

You're in his arms before you know it, held in a tight hug. "Other Grandmother told me you were waiting for me," you say.

"I'm always willing to wait for you. What's a day or two compared to ten years?" he laughs. "I've missed you, though."

"I missed you too, strangely enough."

It was rare you got to see someone who was happy to see you in the real world. It was the Other Taehyung that made this place warm and inviting, truly. Not brilliant flowers or freshly cooked food. No, it was seeing someone who cared about you, who smiled at the mere sight of you. Despite the fact you couldn't look into his eyes and read his emotions, you were able to feel them.

You jump from his hug. "Oh, the cat! Mochi, he's in both worlds!"

Other Tae's brows furrow. "What do you mean?"

"Like, the cat, you know, the one we saw yesterday?" you ramble. "Me and real Taehyung- well, I don't mean it like that- we saw it! At the same well."

"So you know where the well is in the real world too?"

"Yeah, well, this is like a mirror of home, isn't it?" You gesture around. "I had help, though. Even Taehyung didn't know where the well was. Mochi helped guide us, though."

Other Tae had a nervous look on his face. "Did he?"

You frown. "What's wrong?"

"Y/N... I want to ask you something."

"What is it?"

"Would you stay here? With me?" He sees the shock on your face and is quick to talk. "You'd be so happy here, Y/N. I love you, you know that. You'd have your favorite food whenever you'd want. You'd never have to work or lift a single finger, everything would be provided. You'd get to have fun and have anything you'd want. I'd be here. Anything you'd want will be yours. Food, animals, gifts? Anything."

"I... Where is this coming from?"

Other Tae's face falls. "You can't stay flipping between two worlds all the time, Y/N. Eventually, you'll have to choose one."

"What do you mean?"

"It's the same deal that was provided for you ten years ago," he tells you. "Both you and Jimin."

"What'd Jimin pick?"

He shook his head. "I can't tell you that- I'm not allowed. Other Grandmother's got all the answers, and she'll tell you everything as long as you're willing to stay here with us. Be a family."

"Why does she want me so badly?"

"Because she fell for you as a child and wanted to keep you close to her. She hated when you left."

You tried to imagine what it'd be like to have your child ripped away from you when they were only eleven. You supposed you'd be desperate to keep them close if that were the case. "What about you, then? Why do you want me here?"

"It's because I lo-"

"Don't tell me you love me. Tell me something truly from you. Not something you're... programmed to say," you request. "Sometimes you feel so real, like him but... not. You look like him but you're someone else entirely. But I don't want you to just be someone who's perfect and made for me."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I need something that makes it feel like you're... human. Humans have wants, not just needs. They have selfish desires and feelings. You feel like that but then you repeat yourself like a broken record. I love you, I love you, I love you- but what else? What else do you feel other than love for me? Do you really want me with you or is that just what you're trained to feel? What you're destined to do? I don't want it to feel like you're "

He thinks for a moment. "I... I want you because... because you're real."

"Because I'm real?" You scoff. "You sound like the guys who go on about how down to Earth tomboys are."

"No, I mean you're actually real. Everything else was made for one thing and one thing only- to please you. They don't know anything outside the world created for them. These few acres of land. You, however, have seen the world, or at least far more than I have. You've met people with hopes and dreams. I don't even know if I have free will. I was made to love you, it's true, but that was because of my environment. If I lived somewhere else, I could've been crafted for another purpose."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean what we see is limited. Say a man lives on a mountain by a temple and was raised by monks to become just like that. Now imagine that same man lives in Colorado and instead chooses to grow weed. It's the same man, but the environment the man lives in determines what he wants and dreams. Both options are truly what he dreams of doing, but only because of the environment and how he was brought up. What he sees and dreams of is limited, and that's the same way for me. I've seen and lived in a world where the dream is to love you and have you. I do truly want that, but because that's how I was brought up, how I was made. In that sense, I have about as much free will as anyone in your world."

"I understand what you're saying," you nod, soaking in. "And it makes sense. You've got a point."

He holds your hand for a moment, cold and tight. "I do want you to stay here, though. Genuinely. You're real. You can tell me what it's really like out there, and I can tell you everything we did back in the day. We can be happy together. Could you see yourself loving me too?"

You thought for a moment, staring at him. "What about real Taehyung?"

"Is he the one you love?"

"I can't deny I feel nothing for him. He's..."

"Real," Other Taehyung finishes. "He's the real Taehyung."

"I'm sorry."

Other Tae lets go of your hand, letting it fall limply at your side. So badly you wanted fingers to intertwine with your own at that moment, a simple squeeze of forgiveness, but you knew that this wasn't something you could take back. He was right. Sure, this place was tangible, and you were confident it wasn't a dream. But it was too good to be true, and the good thing about the real world was that it was in fact, real. It had flaws, it had cracks, it had pain. This place was beautiful, but the longer you stay the more it felt like plastic surgery. A fake smile pulled back and forced because of how much botox was put in the cheeks.

He takes your face in his hands. "I'll prove to you I love you, though. Follow the cat."

You're unable to question him, his lips brought to yours. Your eyes go wide open at the feeling, the feeling of his lips against yours familiar. He feels so much like Taehyung. He kisses like him, too. But it's colder, without the real warmth of Taehyung. Taehyung was more so an angry sad, tears and frustration. Other Taehyung seemed to accept his fate, the kiss slow and measured, sad.

You kiss him back though, lips firm against his own, as though to apologize without words.

And just like that, you were slipping back into the house, never to see him again.

"You said you'd give me answers," you say quietly, sitting in front of the Other Grandmother. "I'd like them now, please."

"Now, my sweet girl, I did say I'd tell you if you truly wish to hear it."

"I'm willing to do anything."

She raises a perfectly arched brow. "Anything?"

You look at her with determination, lips pressed together in a straight line, brows furrowed. "What's your condition?"

"Why, Other Taehyung already informed you! Sad you rejected him, though," she tuts.

"How do you know about that?"

"I know everything here, dear. I made it," she smiles. "Now, you were asking about my condition?"

"Yes."

"I'll tell you everything you'd like to know. From what happened ten years ago, to Jimin's disappearance, to why you lost your memories," she guaranteed. "I'll tell you the entire truth about Jimin, in fact."

"What's the partial truth?"

The Other Grandmother's buttons glinted. "He's not dead, and he's here with us now."

You stood up, shock running through your system. Your heart stopped. "You're lying, aren't you? Park Jimin's dead."

She shook her head. "He is very much alive, my dear."

"What proof do you have?"

She smirks, as though expecting your reaction, having already prepared for it. She reaches under the table, pulling out two boxes. She pushes one forward, carefully analyzing your expression as you opened it. Inside were a younger boy's clothes, perhaps one of a preteen. A blue sweater and jeans, along with flashy sneakers.

"He doesn't fit those clothes anymore, of course. I like to keep it for sentimental purposes," the Other Grandmother explained. "I guarantee you they're his and not something I fashioned out of thin air. Your precious Taehyung would also be able to confirm it."

"So Jimin's here..." You couldn't believe it. You were flabbergasted by the mere thought. You closed the box, the clothes still inside, pressing it against your chest as though afraid it'd disappear from your hold.

"Ten years ago I asked him the same question I'm about to ask you. I can't tell you any more until you make your decision."

"What is it?"

She slides the other box to you, and you're quick to rip it apart, opening it. Staring back at you were two black buttons, with a needle and thread.

You look up at her, the serene smile greeting you in that same, amused way.

"Will you stay here with me?"

You had a choice to make.

Jimin or Taehyung?

The Other Grandmother interjects. "You made this decision ten years ago and decided to stay, but there were complications. The incident. You did decide to stay, though. I just figured it'd be polite to ask you again, to make sure."

This is what you wanted, wasn't it?

You even wanted this back then. You'd get all the answers. Jimin would inform you if he's really here. He'd tell you everything. You'd finally get to meet your other best friend, who undoubtedly chose to stay here. He had to be happier than Taehyung, who was wallowing in self misery. Taehyung didn't even want to see you. Every time you saw him there was just more pain. You were a burden that kept him from healing. There was a boy here who loved you, who was made to love you, a dream come true. He was nicer than Taehyung anyway and hung onto every word you said. It'd be best if you stayed here. For everyone.

"No."

She seems surprised, perfectly still for a moment. "No?" she finally says.

"No," you confirm. "I won't stay here. I can't."

"But it's perfect-"

"Exactly!" you fume. "This place is perfect, and that's what makes the real world so much better. It's real! It's got flaws, it has mistakes, it's not all as phony as here. There are real emotions and selfishness and everything in between! I'm not perfect, so I don't belong in a perfect place like this. So, no. I won't stay with you."

"What about the answers you were looking for?"

"I'm not willing to sacrifice the life I already have for one I don't remember living," you say.

"And Jimin?"

"He made his choice to stay here. That's his choice. But he hurt his family and Taehyung in the process. I don't want to do the same. I've hurt people enough already. It's about time I put in more consideration about how they feel," you say.

The Other Grandmother's mouth goes small, and she simply examines you for a moment. She sighs, "I was hoping it wouldn't come down to this. Seems like you'll be meeting the same fate as your little friend, then."

She snapped her fingers, and from every crevice and corner of the room emerge rats. Big, hairy rats with red buttons for eyes. You scream, getting out of your chair to scamper away, still clutching tightly to the box, the rats right on your heels. You run up the stairs, up up up to your room, crawling through the tunnel as fast as you can, clutching tightly to the box of clothes.

You feel one catch up, biting your ankle. You scream in pain, kicking it away as you scamper, the small entrance so close yet so far. You jump through, kicking the door shut and keeping your foot firmly planted against it, the door thumping as it attempted to break from its hinges. You grabbed the roll of tape from when you taped it before, putting layer upon later on it until every crack and edge was covered, making it impossible for the rats to push through.

It finally quietened down, and for once your house was completely silent, rats no longer roaming about the attic.

"Taehyung! Taehyung!" You had passed out for a few hours, the time you got out of the Other World already being a little past sunrise. By the time you woke up again, it was afternoon. You pound against his door, your hair matted and greasy with oil, pointing in every which direction. You were covered in scrapes and cuts, and the rat-bite fucked you up more than you care to admit.

"Dear God, woman, have you ever considered letting the guy chase you for once? Seems like you're constantly at my door making demands," he huffs, swinging the door open. "You left me, last night, don't think I didn't notice. I'm not a one night stand kind of guy, but- holy shit, what happened to you?"

"Park Jimin is alive," you say quickly, cutting to the chase. You fumble with the box, opening it. "Are these his clothes? Back when we were eleven?"

"I..." He pulls out the sweater, examining it. "How'd you get this?"

"You won't believe me."

"This is the last thing I ever saw him in. This is what he was wearing the day he disappeared. The day of whatever incident made you lose your memory and lost him for good," Taehyung said. "How did you get this?"

You huff, tears springing your eyes at the confirmation. "Dear God, he's there. He's been there for ten years and-"

"Y/N, calm down! I need you to tell me everything! I mean it!" He brushes his hands over your arms, trying to calm you down. "I'm listening, I'm really listening. Does this... Does this have something to do with the Other World you keep blathering on about?"

You nod pathetically, continuing to sob. "I went. I'm sorry, but I had to go. It was my choice and I know you were against the idea, and they asked me to stay there. Forever. Like Jimin."

"Like Jimin?"

"Yes! Apparently, we had been given the same option ten years ago. I had said yes, and they expected the same this time. To stay there... you know how I told you about the button eyes? You've got to sew buttons into your eyes. They went on about how I'd be provided for, how I'd have Other Tae, and the cherry on top was that Jimin was there too. He had decided to stay in that world all this time, and he isn't dead. He really did just disappear, but not in the sense anyone else would've guessed."

"Wait, so what happened?"

"I said no!" You look up at him, wiping the tears from your face. "I said no because... because this world isn't perfect. Nothing here is, and that's what makes it better. You're here. I promised I wouldn't leave you again, and whatever decision Jimin made is separate from mine."

"What happened? Is that why you're so scruffed up?"

"She just snapped her fingers and I was chased down by rats." You point down to your leg, the rat-bite still evident. "I barely made it out in time."

"Holy shit, we need to get that treated!"

"Taehyung," you interrupt, raising his gaze from your leg to your face. "Do you believe me this time? After everything, do you believe me?"

"I..." He stared down at the sweater in his hand, clutching it tightly. "I think... I do."

You couldn't help but light up at that, a breath of relief as a metaphorical weight was lifted from your shoulders.

"Would you be willing to come with me there, then? Tonight?"

"What? Why? Why me? Shouldn't we stay as far as we can from it?"

"And leave Jimin there with that... that monster? Look what she did to me! My Other Grandmother tried so hard to manipulate me into staying with her, made everything perfect for me, told me she'd tell me the truth about everything with all the answers I'd need, and I didn't grab the bait. I don't trust Jimin with a woman like that. He's bound to have fucked up over the past ten years, especially since he started out at eleven. She made him sew buttons into his eyes! It's about time he came home."

"Y/N... This isn't some cruel prank you're playing on me, is it? It's not you just having delusions and finding some incredulous way to get the exact clothes on the exact day I never saw him again?"

"I've never lied to you, Taehyung. There are too many things that line up, too many coincidences."

You see him contemplating, staring you in the eye, as though waiting for you to confess it was a lie.

"Don't you want him back home?"

"I do! Of course, I do, it's just so much to process. I've believed he was dead for so long, and to find out the Other World that you two talked about when we were little is true. It's a lot to comprehend."

"We can't dawdle on this, Taehyung. The sooner we get him out the better. I'm not doing this for myself anymore. I don't need to find out my past to feel complete anymore- but you and I both know we have to get him out."

"What if he doesn't want to come home, though? He would've returned by now."

"She's a manipulator and liar. I don't doubt that the moment he took her deal she turned on him and made his life a living nightmare. He's probably unable to escape."

"And if we find out he truly doesn't want to?"

"Then... I guess we'll have to face the facts and lock the door for good." You look up tentatively at him. "Are you prepared to accept that fate?"

"I'd be happy to see him one more time. We all just need closure, right? One way or another we'll get it." He examined your injury, a nervous expression on his face. "But are you sure we should go? You're not in the best condition. What if it's worse this time? What if you don't get out?"

"We'll be prepared this time. Besides, I'll have you," you grin, though it doesn't last long. "I'm sorry I didn't do what you asked and left without saying anything. I thought I was moving past that but I guess old habits die hard."

"If we get Jimin back, all is forgiven. Now, let's bandage you up, get what we need, and go. Lord knows this reunion is long overdue."

Later that night, you were ready.

The two of you stared down at the little door, still taped tightly. You both had dressed in long sleeves and pants in an effort to make your skin less accessible to rats. Your injuries had been treated thoroughly already, and you kept your backpack close, with a flashlight, a knife, and bandages inside. By his side Taehyung held a baseball bat, wearing special gloves that would help his grip.

"Are you ready for this?" you question. "I wouldn't blame you if you decided to back out."

"I've spent too much time wallowing in self misery. Now that I have hope, I've got to grasp onto it." He holds his hand out, giving you a look of determination. "We're in this together, right?"

"We always were," you say, squeezing his hand. You take in a deep breath, beginning to rip off the tape until you were finally able to open the door. It slowly swung out, and for a moment you were suspecting only brick.

Instead, the dark tunnel laid before you.

"Holy shit..." Taehyung muttered under his breath. "I can't believe it."

"Let's go," you say, crawling through. You felt him behind you as the two of you went through, the tunnel pulsating and moving along with you, as though you were moving inside an intestine. It isn't until you're in the mirror version of your room that you're able to properly stand, feeling a bit less suffocated by the tunnel.

It looked the same, but something was... different. There was no magic in the air, and it was completely silent. Watching... Waiting...

"It really is a mirror of your room," Taehyung noticed. "Does that mean Jimin needed to go through your room to get here? Or did he have his own little door and tunnel?"

"I can't really tell you honestly," you say, brandishing your knife. "Let's go."

The two of you make your way downstairs, you taking the lead.

You were surprised to see Other Taehyung standing before you.

"Y/N!" he said. "You came back!"

"I can't talk right now, where's Jimin?" You show the knife, letting it glint in the light. "I don't want to use this. I need to get in and out. Is he here?"

Other Taehyung holds up his hands in surrender, shocked. "Yes, he's here, but-"

Taehyung follows shortly after you, stopping in his tracks. The two Taehyungs make eye contact, surprised to see each other.

"Is that... me?" Taehyung questions, frozen in place.

"So you brought him," Other Taehyung said quietly. "I was wondering when you'd get around to it."

"I know he's supposed to me and all, but I'm definitely hotter than he is," Taehyung whispers.

You shush him, keeping your attention on Other Taehyung. "Where's Jimin?" you repeat.

"He's here, in the house, but it's not what you thi-"

He's quickly cut off, gasping aloud as he sinks lower and onto his knees. Behind him, the Other Grandmother is revealed, a large pair of scissors in her hands. Down Other Taehyung's back is a large cut, sand pooling out, strings and threads beginning to unravel at the incision. Like your doll.

"Pity, I was rather proud of that one," the Other Grandmother tsked, staring down at the limp body at her feet with disappointment. "He was made to love you- a bit too much it seemed. He forgot his true, underlying purpose." She looks up, staring quizzically at Taehyung. "And I thought I made it clear this young gentleman was never welcome here."

You hold a protective arm out in front of Tae, glaring at the Other Grandmother. You hold the knife out in front of you. "Where's Jimin?"

"Now, why would I tell you something like that?"

Taehyung acts before you can say anything, swinging his bat to hit the Other Grandmother over the head, the scissors flying out of her hand as she hits the floor. He grabs them, spreads them apart, and digs the points on either side of her wrist, trapping her. He stepped on the other hand, grinding his foot down, pressing the fat end of his bat against her head to keep her on the floor.

"Keep fucking around with us and I'll break every bone in your hands. Tell us where Jimin is!" He twists his foot, earning a particularly harsh yelp from the woman beneath him.

She let out a hiss, gritting her teeth. "Fine! I'll tell you..."

You clench your jaw. "Spill."

"Don't look so glum, darling. You're finally going to get what you want- the answers to what you've been asking yourself all these years."

"I'm listening."

"I'd have to start at the beginning, I suppose," she sighs. "Once, long ago, there were two miserable little kids, Jack and Jill, with souls as pure as their hearts. They were allowed to visit a world crafted just for them. They were miserable and pure, which made their souls ripe for the taking."

"Why wasn't Taehyung offered this paradise, then?" you question. "The year everything went down he was still the same age as us, and very miserable shortly after."

"The boy's soul wasn't as pure. It was tainted. He was a bit of an early bloomer," she explained, hissing.

Taehyung grunted in response. "Glad to know me jerking off at age eleven was enough to keep you away."

"As I was saying, one day Jack and Jill were offered the opportunity to stay there forever. They'd have everything they wanted, away from any worries. All they had to do was give their souls, by sewing buttons into their eyes. After all, the eyes are the windows to the soul."

That explained the buttons.

"Little Jill jumped at the opportunity, but Jack wasn't convinced. He refused and tried to drag little Jill out. This wasn't accepted of course, and in the midst of their escape, Jack, in turn, broke Jill's crown! She hit her head and he had to carry her all the way through the forest! Instead of a hill, however, Jill tumbled down, down, down a well. From the bump on her head or the shock of everything, she was unable to remember even poor Jack's sacrifice to save her from her selfish decision."

"And what happened to Jack?" you questioned.

She simply smirked.

"He was caught and punished immediately. Even as a kid he was a bit of a pussy, as you kids would say."

"And where is he now? Tell me!"

"His soul was never taken, don't you worry. It must be given by choice, after all." She cackles. "In one way or another, he's gone. You should've stayed away while you could."

"WHERE IS HE?" You demanded. Upon your outburst Taehyung lifted the bat, bringing it down on the Other Grandmother's hand, an audible crack sounding throughout the room.

She screamed, moving her other hand despite the way the scissors cut her skin, snapping her fingers.

Panic filled you as you push Taehyung off, pulling him along. You heard the rats scamper about, hot on your heels once again, and your adrenaline surged through your veins. "Run, run, run!" you scream, the two of you stumbling up the stairs. Taehyung did his best, trying to bat away the rats behind you as you run to your room.

You kicked the door shut behind the two of you, going to the small door, finding it closed. You rattle the knob, trying to open it, but it won't budge.

"Why won't it open?" Taehyung questions, equally panicked.

"I don't know! It's locked!"

"Looking for this?" The Other Grandmother swings the door open, one of the rats crawling up her body to perch upon her shoulder, the key in its little paw. The Other Grandmother grabs it, dangling it in front of you.

"You handle the rats, I'll handle her!" you shout. You keep a firm grip onto your knife, despite the bit of perspiration you've already made. You swing it at her, watching as she dodged. Taehyung, meanwhile, did his best to swing the rats away, batting them and stepping on them as they attempted to crawl up his legs.

"This is for Taehyung!" You take a swing, growling the words out as she dodges. "This is for Jimin!" You reach with your other hand as well this time, aiming for the eyes, pulling out the buttons until all that was left in her eye sockets were string. "And this is for me!"

You finally hit something, and her frail hand is cut clean off, the key inside. You grab for the key, expecting the hand to leak out sand similar to the Other Taehyung. Instead, it bleeds, bone even showing at the stem. She was just as real as you were, it seemed.

"You little brat! After all I've done for you!" the Other Grandmother screams. "I'll kill you! I'll kill all three of you!"

Before you could make a move, the hand jumps up at its own accord, quick to begin crawling up your leg, the long nails digging into your skin. You try to shake it off, swatting at it and keeping the key firm in grip.

You turn to the blind woman, sinking your blade into her heart, seeing more blood. You kept going, watching her sink down into her hoard of rats, still intent on attacking you from every which direction. You thought the hand would stop moving as well once you killed the source, but it continued, tangling itself in your hair as it tried to drag you to your demise.

"Quick, unlock it!" Taehyung says, having a few rats cling to his clothes already. He didn't have much time left.

"There's no time!" you tell Taehyung. "We've got to-"

You're interrupted by a loud meow and your attention is brought to Mochi, sitting on the windowsill.

Follow the cat.

As though reading your mind, Mochi jumps away, out of sight.

"Taehyung! The window! Jump out of the window!" you tell him, grabbing him and pushing him towards it.

"We're on the second floor!" he protests.

"Just do it! Follow the cat, I'll be right behind you!"

Taehyung does as he's told, disappearing from sight. You turn to the now limp Other Grandmother, finally grabbing hold of the wandering hand and throwing it back at her body. You kick away a few more rats, going to the windowsill before dropping yourself below, grabbing purchase of whatever you could along the way.

Thankfully it wasn't that big a jump, and the moment Tae caught you you let out a sigh of relief. That was until the rats began to jump from the window as well, clearly not intent on letting you go.

You see Mochi begin to scamper off into the woods.

"Follow the cat! Let's go!"

You two are hand in hand, running as fast as you can. You're limping now, one of the rats having caught you and keeping hold onto your leg with its jaw. You scream in agony, refusing to slow down, reaching into your backpack for your flashlight to keep track of the cat.

Mochi guides you until you're staring at the upcoming well.

"We have to jump into the well," you explain to Taehyung. "Jack and Jill, remember?"

"What do you mean?"

"It's another portal! That's how Jimin got me out the first time."

Mochi jumps up onto the edge of the well, taking one last look at the two of you before jumping in, only confirming your suspicions.

You and Tae jump up onto the edge, hand in hand as you turn to look at the hoard of rats, one pale hand riding on top of one.

You close your eyes and jump.

You weren't expecting to land on your ass, shooting up from the well and into the woods of the real world. You groan in pain, hissing out.

You jump up though, adrenaline still flowing through you as you find the strength to lift the cover of the well, covering up the top. Finally drained, you collapse on the floor.

"Taehyung?" you groan. "Are you there? Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he says, his voice just as strained. "God, let's get those bandages."

You toss your backpack his way, letting him rip off a strip before looking down at your leg that the rat had gotten hold of. Figured it'd be the same leg that had gotten bitten before. You take the role of bandages from Taehyung, ripping a strip from it to tightly wrap around the new bite mark.

There's silence between you two. An air you can't quite place. Disappointment? Sadness? Frustration?

"We didn't get Jimin," you say quietly.

"I know," he responds.

"Can we ever go back?"

"I..." Taehyung seems to be unable to find a response. Both of you knew that you weren't any match for her. You had come prepared, and while you got answers to certain things, you weren't any closer to finding Jimin. But you almost died, and they'd be more prepared for your arrival than you'd be to attack them again.

Your eyes well up with tears. "We let him down, Taehyung. We lost Jimin. For good this time. And we were so, so close."

"I know."

You sit there, no longer moving, drowning in your feelings. What were you going to do now? You couldn't just give up on Jimin, could you? After all this effort?

"I don't think there's any need for you to go back."

The two of you simply stare in awe at the source of the sound. A handsome young man with long eyes and plump lips. He was a stranger in a sense, but completely familiar.

"Jimin...?"

Jimin smiles, his pearly teeth showing. "It's good to see you guys again."

Taehyung looks at him in shock, wordless. Slowly getting to his feet, he approaches him, pressing his hand against Jimin's chest. "It's... It's you!"

"Ten years later and I'm still shorter than you, it seems."

Taehyung lets out a guffaw, something between a smile and a look of surprise, and soon enough he's wrapping his arms tightly around Jimin, holding him close to his body as though he were afraid he'd vanish. "Oh my God, you don't know how long I've waited for this moment."

Jimin hugged him tightly as well, burying his face in the crook of Taehyung's neck.

"I've been dreaming of this moment for so long. This is better than anything I could've imagined."

Everyone cries for a moment, and once the two boys break apart, you know it's your turn to properly unite with him.

You scamper to your feet, ignoring the pain as you limp into his arms, enveloping him in a tight hug. "Oh my God, it's- but- wait- how?!"

He pulls away from you, laughing. "When they caught me ten years ago, they refused to let me go, but I refused to sell my soul. As punishment the Baroness, her true title, by the way, turned me into a cat. I traveled in between worlds, though, but was unable to tell you guys what happened."

"Oh my God, you were Mochi? How are you human again, though?"

"You killed the Baroness- that was enough to undo her spell."

"So, that's it, we won?"

"No... You cut her hand off, so it acts on its own by her will. It's going to come back for that key. She's got enough magic in her pinky to redo everything she's done so that she can lure more kids in the future."

"We have to get rid of it, then!" you say, clutching tightly to it. "Or we destroy the hand! Either one."

"Ok, but how?" Taehyung questions. "For all we know it'll strangle us in our sleep."

"Don't worry guys, I've got a plan. I think I've planned for a thousand scenarios where we'd get into this situation- this isn't even the worst one," Jimin laughs. "Just follow along with my plan, ok?"

The three of you sit around the well, holding a picnic, a checkerboard cloth covering the top of it as you three dine.

Behind the tree a pale hand hides, its focus solely on the key that was placed in the center. Creeping forward, it needn't bother with the idle chat of the adults, catching up as they reminisce and fill the girl in on all their misadventures from their youth.

Finally, it pounces, landing perfectly in the middle to grasp the key. Before it knew it, however, you were letting the blanket go, grabbing it into a bundle, trapping it.

"Now, Taehyung!"

Taehyung reaches for the bat he had hidden, repeatedly bashing it into the Baroness's hand as it wriggled around in the cloth. Continuously he hit it until there was no longer any movement, and the cloth was thoroughly soaked in blood.

You unraveled it, taking a look at it. The hand was beaten to a pulp, every bone broken beyond repair. You look over to Jimin. "Think it'll do?"

He nods, affirmative. "Toss it."

You gather it again once more, tossing it into the well, all three of you lifting the cover to seal it shut. The door in your room was already locked and taped up, meaning that all portals were now closed.

You sigh in relief. "Is it over? Like, really over now?"

"If it isn't I think I'm going to go crazy," Taehyung huffs, wiping his brow.

"You think you'll go crazy? I've been a cat for ten years!" Jimin argued.

"You made a very cute cat, Mochi," you joke, petting the top of his head. Jimin preened at the attention, grinning widely.

"Ugh, if you start purring I think I'll be sick," Taehyung grimaced.

"You're just jealous because for once she's paying attention to me instead of you!"

"No way!"

You couldn't help but laugh at the banter. It felt good to have them both at your side, and you had a feeling you would for many years to come. You looked forward to each one. These two boys, all of you had gone through so much together. Hell, it felt like just yesterday you and Taehyung were insulting each other in front of your grandparents. You thought he was just some edgy guy looking to suck the light out of everything, but he was more than that. He was human.

You looked forward to seeing the human sides of both men, letting them see the same. You knew at that moment you truly wanted nothing more, environment influenced or not, than to be with your two best friends.

Meanwhile, deep below, a single finger twitched.

#taehyung #kim taehyung #bts v #bts taehyung #taehyung fanfiction #taehyung smut #v smut #v fanfiction #v reactions #bts reaction #taehyung reactions #bts smut #bts fanfiction #bangtan #smut #btssmutclub

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fiercestcorpse · 4 years

Text

lan zhan transmigrator au part 2

part 1 is here. i will most likely be putting this up on ao3 once i’ve settled on a title.

By the time he and Lan Xichen had made it down from the Cold Pond and into the buildings of Cloud Recesses, Lan Zhan had started to realise it was later in the day than he’d thought. He needed more information, but he wasn’t sure how to ask. Where had he been earlier that day, what had this body been doing? Lan Xichen had mentioned something about a fever. What was the story behind that? Lan Zhan didn’t recall anything about it being mentioned in the original novel, but maybe it had just escaped the protagonist’s notice.

“Brother,” he asked delicately. Addressing Lan Xichen by name seemed a bit too friendly for this reserved character. Lan Zhan certainly couldn’t call him by his personal name, because he didn’t know it. “How did you know to look for me in the Cold Pond?”

“One of the guards at the front gate came to tell me he’d seen you, and you were heading that way,” Lan Xichen replied. “He said you looked unwell. What were you doing leaving the Cloud Recesses, Wangji? You should have been resting.” A soulful expression of brotherly disappointment graced his perfectly proportioned face.

Of course Lan Zhan couldn’t answer his question! He had no memory of what this body had been doing before he’d occupied it. In the original, it had been implied that Lan Wangji had just returned from a night hunt, but Lan Zhan wasn’t sure if that was actually true or not, or how the original’s mysterious illness might have affected things.

However, this did give him one piece of unwelcome information: If Lan Wangji had come through the gate and re-entered the cloud recesses, then he had probably already encountered the Jiang disciples… and stopped them from entering!

There was not a lot Lan Zhan could do about this right now. Lan Xichen seemed to be leading him towards a specific building. From the sign above the door, it seemed to be the healing room, where sick or injured members of the Lan sect would go to be treated.

Lan Zhan had no idea that such a building had existed! It had never come up in the novel, though of course it made sense that it would be there. It would be difficult to go all the way down the mountain to the nearby Caiyi Town for a medical emergency, and the common people there might not know how to treat some of the problems a cultivator might encounter.

The room Lan Zhan was led into was elegant and spacious, with an astringent, herbal scent in the air. It had an overall light colour scheme-- white paper in the windows, white drapes dividing the room into sections-- but was furnished with contrasting dark wood. The source of the smell was a Lan disciple sitting at a low table, grinding some presumably medicinal herbs with a mortar and pestle.

Lan Xichen led Lan Zhan over to sit at a low bench, and hovered anxiously around him as an unfamiliar man came to attend to him. The man must have been some sort of doctor, but Lan Zhan had no way of knowing, as once again he had never been mentioned in the novel. The unknown doctor man pressed two fingers to Lan Zhan’s wrist to take his pulse. Lan Zhan gave what was surely a very OOC flinch at the feeling of foreign spiritual energy coming into contact with his own.

In his previous life, Lan Zhan had of course been aware of the idea that there was a network of qi flowing throughout his body. But having heard about a thing really couldn’t be compared to the experience of actually, viscerally feeling it! The tingling, flowing sensation felt somewhat similar to the time Lan Zhan had been in hospital when he was younger, and had been put on an intravenous drip. But this sensation wasn’t present in his veins, it was happening throughout an entirely new network that this body apparently had.

The doctor shared a brief look of concern with Lan Xichen. Lan Zhan frowned minutely at being glanced around as if he wasn’t there. “Is there a problem?” he asked.

“Lan-er-gongzi has had a minor qi deviation,” the doctor said, addressing Lan Xichen. “But he seems to have somehow brought his own meridians back into the proper alignment.”

A qi deviation! In the setting of Proud Immortal Founder of the Demon Way, that was serious! It wasn’t something that could happen due to just a minor issue, it was a symptom of something being very badly wrong with a person’s cultivation. And qi deviations were often fatal.

Now that he was aware of their presence, Lan Zhan noticed that this body’s meridians felt somewhat fragile, almost bruised. He didn’t really have anything to compare it to, but surely they weren’t supposed to feel like that.

“You will have to take extra time each morning to meditate and circulate your qi until you are fully recovered,” said the doctor. “It would also be beneficial for us to check up on you in the future, and determine if there is some imbalance or blockage that could cause another qi deviation.”

“Of course, we will make sure to do that,” said Lan Xichen. He was now looking extremely pale and worried. “Wangji, it seems like it really was the right thing to do, to go meditate in the Cold Pond,” he added. “You may have averted a catastrophe.”

Although he maintained a stoic expression, internally Lan Zhan shuddered to hear this. Averted a catastrophe? More likely, the feverish Lan Wangji had overtaxed himself, and caused his own qi deviation in the first place! And now… now he was gone, and Lan Zhan was occupying his body. Lan Zhan didn’t know if the qi deviation had been deadly, or if it had simply caused enough of a weakness for something to force Lan Wangji’s soul out of its rightful position, and replaced it with that of a clueless transmigrator. Either way, the original inhabitant was gone.

Still, Lan Zhan refused to feel bad about it. Lan Wangji was a fictional character, why should Lan Zhan be upset if he died? He was going to die anyway, due to his own bad decisions. It had simply happened a little sooner. Now that Lan Zhan was in his place, he’d take care to do a better job of it.

“Thank you,” Lan Zhan said to the doctor. That wasn’t out of character, right? Lan Wangji was always polite to people in positions of power or influence. “I think I will go and meditate now.” And change out of this damp clothing. He rose from the bench, ignoring Lan Xichen’s anxious gaze, and prayed he could find the disciple dormitories without getting too obviously lost.

As the head disciple, and son of the clan leader, it made sense that Lan Wangji’s dormitory was one of the biggest, set slightly apart from the rest. Lan Xichen accompanied him there, and Lan Zhan was able to walk behind him without making it look too obviously like he was following him. Lan Xichen kept shooting little glances at him back over his shoulder, like he was afraid Lan Zhan was going to fall over and start gushing blood from his face or something.

“Wangji,” said Lan Xichen. “I know you’ve volunteered to patrol Cloud Recesses tonight, but I think you should reconsider. You should stay behind and rest.”

Lan Zhan was about to agree, when he was interrupted by a ding. [Lan Wangji patrolling Cloud Recesses is an important plot point for establishing his rivalry with the protagonist! If this plot point is missed, 200 B Points will be deducted!]

… Tell me again, how many B Points did I start with? Lan Zhan asked the system.

[You were awarded 100 complimentary B Points at the start of your user experience! As you have done basically nothing so far except follow the character Lan Xichen around, your number remains the same!]

And if I lose more B Points than what I have…

[Your account will be terminated, and you will be deported back to your original world.]

Back to my original world, where I’m dead. Great. So there was no chance of skipping this encounter with the protagonist, then.

“I will consider it,” Lan Zhan told Lan Xichen, meaning I am absolutely still going on patrol tonight, I haven’t got any choice.

But just because he still had to show up for the encounter, didn’t mean Lan Zhan had to act the same way. In the novel, Lan Wangji had scolded the protagonist for breaking curfew and drinking. He’d drawn his sword on him, broken the protagonist’s bottle of Emperor’s Smile, and reported his rule breaking to Master Lan Qiren. There was definitely some sort of compromise Lan Zhan could make, where he could still be in character but maybe let the protagonist off with a lighter punishment.

This reminded Lan Zhan of something else important. Before entering his dormitory room, Lan Zhan turned back towards Lan Xichen. “If you have the opportunity, you should send somebody to the main gate. The Jiang disciples misplaced their invitation.”

There! That shouldn’t be out of character, right? He’d just ratted the Jiangs out to an authority over their missing invitation. Knowing Lan Xichen, he would ensure the Jiang disciples were brought inside regardless, which was what Lan Zhan wanted, but he hadn’t actually asked Lan Xichen to do that.

[... 5 B Points deducted for clumsy loophole exploitation] said the System. Its mechanical voice sounded somehow exasperated. Well. That wasn’t too harsh a penalty.

“Of course! I’ll have it seen to,” said Lan Xichen. “In the meantime, take care of yourself.” Lan Xichen beamed at Lan Zhan, before leaving him in peace.

As Lan Zhan pushed open the door to the dormitory, the jade token attached to his belt gave a little flare of spiritual energy. Was it like some sort of keycard? Only people with the right level of permission could get into certain buildings in the Cloud Recesses? That was another element of worldbuilding that wasn’t in the novel! He wondered if there were any rooms he couldn’t enter, and what would happen if he tried.

Lan Wangji’s dormitory honestly looked quite acceptable, by Lan Zhan’s standards. It was almost uncomfortably sparse and tidy, much like Lan Zhan’s old bedroom had been. There were many books, carefully lined up on the shelves, and neatly stacked writing materials on a table, beside a cloth-covered guqin. The only hint of individuality was a tiny vase sitting by a window, containing a single purple-blue gentian flower.

Who could have guessed, one-dimensional villain Lan Wangji apparently liked flowers? Or maybe it had been put there by someone else. Soft-hearted Lan Xichen seemed like a likely culprit. Lan Zhan supposed it was up to him now, to decide for himself whether Lan Wangji liked flowers or not.

Ding! [Now you’re getting it! Good luck on your mission of adding sympathetic nuance to this scum villain, and improving this story’s many failings!]

Let’s not go too far. Lan Zhan wasn’t interested in being sympathetic, much less in improving the story now that he was living it rather than reading it. He just wanted to stay out of the protagonist’s way, thereby avoiding his own death. If he could read some interesting books and learn how to cultivate, maybe continue improving his guqin playing, that would be enough for him.

Of more immediate interest was the small mirror attached to one wall. On a shelf underneath it was a hairbrush, and a small jar of some sort. Lan Zhan immediately headed over there, to get a look at his new face.

It was… actually quite handsome! Just as expected in a cultivation setting. Lan Wangji had smooth skin, attractive features, and dark, piercing eyes. But wasn’t he a little bit too good looking? Pathetic minor villains shouldn’t be overly handsome, they would outshine the protagonist.

And anyway, weren’t he and Lan Xichen supposed to look alike? They had a somewhat similar bearing, that of an elegant and refined young master, although Lan Xichen had a friendlier look about him. But where Lan Xichen had broader shoulders and a square jaw, Lan Zhan’s new face was somewhat narrower and pointier. Still, he couldn’t complain. He thought this face rather suited him.

He forced a smile at the mirror, just to see what it would look like, then twisted his face up in a look of sadness and regret.

“Wei-gongzi, I apologise for my earlier actions,” he tried. That neither looked nor sounded appropriate for this character. And wasn’t it too dishonest to apologise for something he hadn’t even done? From the protagonist’s perspective he would still be that person who refused them entry, but to Lan Zhan, it didn’t feel right. Anyway, hadn’t he thought to himself that if he’d been in that position, he’d have done the same? If you carelessly leave behind your possessions, there should be consequences.

With or without the OOC function enabled, I can’t just go around lying about things. I don’t want to give the protagonist cause to kill me, but I don’t want to shamelessly pander to him either.

Having made up his mind on this matter, Lan Zhan got changed into another, nearly identical set of white-and-pale-blue robes. He also found his sword, which was a relief, as he’d been somewhat concerned he might have dropped it in the Cold Pond.

It wasn’t quite dark yet, but Lan Zhan didn’t want to miss the protagonist’s arrival. Not to mention, he thought he might have to search around to find the location where they would meet. So with this in mind, he set off early to find the perfect rooftop.

After spending a little while strolling through Cloud Recesses at a measured and dignified pace, Lan Zhan thought of a problem. He knew from the description in Proud Immortal Founder of the Demon Way that Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian would confront each other on the roof of an outlying building. But he wasn’t actually sure how to get up on the roof in the first place. In cultivation settings, characters seemed to jump great heights and fly through the air like it was nothing. But Lan Zhan wasn’t actually a cultivator, he was only pretending to be one! He had no idea how to do any of that!

Could he just find a likely looking spot, and clamber up onto the roof the regular way? He might have to. And what would happen when it came time for him to draw his sword on the protagonist? Lan Wangji had been quite athletic in his previous life, but none of the sports he’d ever done involved swordfighting.

Forget deliberately breaking character, he might accidentally reveal himself as a fake whether he wanted to or not!

Lan Zhan frowned, and glanced around. He was in a quiet, secluded courtyard, and there was no one else out here. So no one would see him if he just…

He gave a little jump in place, and immediately felt rather foolish. Nobody is watching! He reminded himself. Your life might depend on this!

He tried again, this time reaching for the places where he’d felt that weird, tingly sensation when the doctor had been probing his spiritual pathways. There were several major channels of them, flowing throughout his limbs, forming little whirlpools of energy at certain points, and all flowing towards-- or possibly out from?-- some sort of central point deep within his body. If he jumped this time, while using this pool of energy to give himself a little push…

Lan Zhan went rocketing up into the cool night air. High above the rooftops, he felt his robes flare out dramatically around him as he hung there for a second, and then began to plummet back to earth. He had just enough time for a brief flare of wordless panic, before he grasped wildly for his qi again and somehow managed to slow his fall.

Hm. Maybe a bit more gently. This time, the qi-assisted boost he gave himself was just enough to get him to roof height, and then hover there momentarily, before he allowed himself to descend back to the ground.

Lan Zhan felt a quiet burst of delight. He was actually doing it, he was cultivating! It had felt quite natural to do it, almost instinctive, like his body had built up quite a respectable level of cultivation, and was used to reaching for it regularly. He was sure if he’d had to start from scratch, it would have been a lot harder, but this body already had a fully formed golden core and everything!

He remembered the assertion in Proud Immortal Founder of the Demon Way, that Lan Wangji had been jealous of the protagonist’s prodigious cultivation, and had wanted to sabotage him. But to Lan Zhan, that seemed ridiculous. As a newcomer to this world, there was no way he could manage to be the strongest or most talented cultivator, not without some practice. But to be able to cultivate at all was incredible.

In his previous life, Lan Zhan couldn’t precisely be called competitive. But rather, he’d known what he was good at, and strived to become even better. He didn’t worry about what other people were doing, the only standards that mattered were his own, and those of his uncle. In this life, he thought it would be much the same. He wanted to be good at cultivation, because it seemed like a worthwhile thing to work towards. But there was no point in trying to impede other people’s progress simply to make himself look better. In the end, he didn’t care how he looked to other people. He’d still know whether he was actually succeeding or not.

With this in mind, Lan Zhan practiced a few more jumps in the privacy of the empty courtyard. He managed to do some flips in mid-air, and didn’t even seem to get dizzy from it. Then he decided it was probably time to be moving on. It was nearly fully dark, and he didn’t want to be late for his meeting with the protagonist.

With the System’s help, Lan Zhan soon found the spot he needed to be in. There was a sort of upper balcony on one building, which gave a pretty good view out over the Cloud Recesses. Given that the Lan sect were all very well-behaved and went to bed early, and there were supposed to be wards preventing people from entering the area outside of curfew, Lan Zhan was not entirely sure what kind of wrongdoing he was expected to find on his patrol. If he didn’t already know the protagonist was going to attempt to sneak in after hours, he was sure he’d probably find the whole exercise pretty pointless. As it was, he simply stood on the balcony for a while, and watched clouds pass over the face of the moon. He also took a moment to smooth down his hair after his earlier acrobatics, and make sure his forehead ribbon was on straight.

He was alerted to the protagonist’s presence by the sound of a grunt as someone hoisted their body over the ridge of a roof, then the gentle clinking of ceramic jars, and a muffled giggle.

And there… there was the protagonist, Wei Wuxian. Right there in the flesh. He wasn’t looking in Lan Zhan’s direction, but rather gazing out over the courtyard below. He was maybe a little shorter than Lan Zhan had pictured him, and he looked very young, but his mischievous expression was exactly as expected.

Of course he looks young, he’s still a teenager like me at this point, thought Lan Zhan. Wait, is he even old enough to be buying alcohol? Lan Zhan knew some kids whose parents were fine with them drinking, but his uncle would have grounded him until he was thirty for trying to sneak alcohol into the house. Much less into somebody else’s house! That was just rude.

The protagonist jumped in surprise when he spotted Lan Zhan’s impassive figure on the balcony. “What a coincidence! We meet again!”

Lan Zhan was in no way prepared to actually be spoken to by the protagonist, and simply stared at him.

“Lan-er-gongzi, you’re out at this hour!” Wei Wuxian tried again. “Are you going to admire the moon?”

As a matter of fact, he had been doing exactly that, but he couldn’t just say that. He would be docked some points for breaking character for sure.

“Lan-er-gongzi,” said the protagonist, persistent in the face of adversity, “I came for my shijie. Oh! I found the invitation! It’s right here, I’ll show you.” He began to rummage inside his robes, presumably for said invitation. This confirmed Lan Zhan’s earlier suspicions that he had indeed met with the Jiang disciples earlier.

“Breaking through the wards is a violation of the Lan clan’s principles,” he said. He had to say something, and this was roughly what he remembered the rules-obsessed Lan Wangji having said. Really, that was a pretty mild rebuke, considering that Wei Wuxian had essentially just done the magical equivalent of throwing a rock through the Lan sect’s window. “Those who come at night should not be allowed in until the morning. Two violations of the Lan Clan’s principles. Unauthorised carrying of liquor. Three violations of the Lan Clan’s principles.”

The protagonist did not look thrilled by this stony reception. “Lan-er-gongzi, I am new to the Gusu Lan Clan, and not familiar with the rules. But I swear, these things won’t happen again!” As he said this, he held up three fingers in an earnest salute. Of course, having read the original novel, Lan Zhan knew he absolutely didn’t mean it. “Also, I was just in a hurry to find Jiang Cheng and shijie.” A calculating look stole over his face. “How about this? Just let me in for a glimpse. Just one glimpse!”

Seeming to consider the matter settled, the protagonist got to his feet. Acting purely on instinct, Lan Zhan vaulted over the edge of the balcony, and thrust his sword out to block the protagonist’s path. It slid a short way out of the scabbard, revealing a length of shining blade. The protagonist gave a nervous laugh.

“Well then, the Emperor’s Smile, I will spare you one pot,” he said, holding up one of the ceramic jars that were looped over the end of his sword. “Forget about this, deal?”

[That’s bribery!] the System sang out helpfully. [That is also a violation of the Lan clan’s rules!]

This actually… genuinely annoyed Lan Zhan! He may not have agreed with all of the original Lan Wangji’s actions or motivations, but the rules were the rules, and Wei Wuxian had broken them. But instead of apologising for his ignorance, he’d assumed Lan Zhan was so weak willed and dishonourable that he could be persuaded to reverse his decision with a jar of alcohol! “Attempting to bribe a law enforcer,” Lan Zhan snapped. “Doubly guilty.” Law enforcer, maybe he was taking himself a bit too seriously, but breaking the rules was a pretty serious matter.

“Lan-er-gongzi, are you seriously so inflexible?” the protagonist complained. “When we were at the gate, you put the silence spell on me for no reason! You are somehow responsible for that case, right?” saying this, he pushed Lan Zhan’s sword back into its scabbard, and attempted to leave again.

Lan Zhan didn’t need the System to tell him that he could not let the protagonist just run off like that. He thrust out his sword in much the same way as before-- and then found himself twisting back from Wei Wuxian’s block, and coming around for another strike. Before Lan Zhan could really comprehend what was happening, they were fighting, actually fighting! Wei Wuxian was blocking and ducking under his slashes, then tumbling up and out of the way.

Lan Zhan remembered how to jump, of course. And he remembered how to use his qi to keep that momentum up, as he soared through the air after Wei Wuxian’s graceful, fleeing figure. They faced each other from opposite sides of the roof, as Wei Wuxian eyed him consideringly. Lan Zhan couldn’t help but wonder what he saw.

“I’m occupied today. Excuse me,” the protagonist said. His perfect veneer of audacity hadn’t been so much as chipped by their fight. He turned and fled once more, and once more Lan Zhan gave chase. They clashed again, and this time Lan Zhan actually managed to sever the cord connecting the two jars of Emperor’s Smile. The protagonist dived off the roof to catch them, but he missed one, and it shattered on the white gravel path below.

“Lan Wangji!” the protagonist called out, all pretense at politeness abandoned. “Pay for my Emperor’s Smile!”

Lan Zhan leapt down from the roof after him. He was glad now he’d gotten in a bit of practice earlier, as he now managed to make a perfectly elegant landing. Composing his face into a stern glare, he stared the protagonist down. As he did so, he noticed something he hadn’t seen earlier.

“Turn around,” he ordered.

“Ah? What’s this?” said Wei Wuxian, walking over to study it more closely.

It was a large block of stone, with column upon column of writing carved into it. These were of course the famous rules of the Gusu Lan sect. Lan Zhan realised he’d better take a look over them himself, at some point, if he was going to be trying to enforce them.

“The principles of the Gusu Lan Clan,” Lan Zhan answered.

The protagonist was astonished. “This many?” he said, sounding horrified. He clutched his remaining jar of Emperor’s Smile protectively to his chest.

“Put the alcohol down,” said Lan Zhan. “Since you came for the lecture, let’s count how many principles you have violated tonight.” He paused. He knew there were at least four by now. Wasn’t there some rule about not fighting, too? But that probably didn’t count, since Lan Zhan had actually started the fight! Oh no, had he just added “hypocrite” to the list of scum villain Lan Wangji’s numerous misdeeds?

The protagonist shook his head and scoffed. “Well, I’m so fortunate that I wasn’t born into the stiff and horrible Gusu Lan Clan.” With that, he took the opportunity to run off again, leaping over to a nearby roof. He then sat down in a most inelegant manner. “Liquor is forbidden in the Cloud Recesses. Well, I can stay outside and sit here to drink! This won’t count, right?” Saying this, he unstoppered his jar, and tipped a stream of clear, fragrant liquor into his mouth.

Lan Zhan was infuriated. Now he knew how the System had felt earlier, when he’d tried to argue technicalities with it! The protagonist’s behaviour had seemed amusing as a reader, but from this position, Lan Zhan was beginning to find him impossibly smug and arrogant! Who would make such a big deal about not being permitted to drink alcohol? Just apologise and follow the rules next time!

“So disobedient!” Lan Zhan snapped. He felt his hand, held behind his back, clench into a fist.

“The female cultivators in every clan are all admiring the famous Lan-er-gongzi!” the protagonist called down from the roof. The return to Lan Zhan’s title was clearly not meant to be a gesture of respect. “What a pity!”

“A pity?” Lan Zhan found himself baffled by these words, and also distracted by a single drop of Emperor’s Smile that had beaded on Wei Wuxian’s chin. What on earth did he mean, about the female cultivators admiring Lan Wangji? That hadn’t been in the original novel!

Wei Wuxian grinned. “What a pity that they don’t know the person they are admiring is relentless, unreasonable, and rigid!”

Lan Zhan glared. Well, he wasn’t wrong, Lan Wangji certainly was all those things. And maybe Lan Zhan was too! But that was better than being a shameless, disrespectful, irresponsible rule breaker, who tipped illicit alcohol all over his chin!

Ding! went the System. [Would you like to spend 50 B Points to unlock the Lan sect special ability, “Silencing Spell”?]

Yes! Anything to shut this smug protagonist up! Lan Zhan was accepting the offer before he’d even thought it through, or considered the fact that the cost was over half his remaining B Points.

“But it doesn’t matter,” Wei Wuxian continued, like he was giving a speech to a greater audience than just one mad and frustrated teenager glaring up at him from the ground. “When I go back to Yunmeng, I’m going to--”

His words were suddenly cut off, and his lips appeared inseparably sealed together! Lan Zhan had cast the silencing spell!

Wei Wuxian leapt back down from the roof, and got up in Lan Zhan’s personal space. He was able to make inarticulate noises of protest, though it appeared somewhat painful to do so, but he could neither continue with his speech nor drink any more of his Emperor’s Smile.

Lan Zhan had won. This fact was suddenly more important to him than the story, or his original plan not to get on the protagonist’s bad side. He’d made his point, and now he was going to take Wei Wuxian to receive the proper punishment.

[Congratulations! Achievement “Youthful Rivalry” unlocked! 200 B Points awarded!]

“Let’s go,” Lan Zhan said, turning on his heel to walk off. The protagonist, inexplicably, followed him.

#lan zhan: i am going to make better decisions than the idiot villain original character #lan zhan: *gets annoyed by the protagonist and proceeds to make exactly the same decisions just for slightly different reasons*#anyway i mainly went of the netflix subtitles for the later bits of dialogue #but i'm planning on diverging a bit more from canon later on #otherwise this would be. a very boring fanfic lmao

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maple-writes · 4 years

Text

WHG 13: Post Games 2

tagging @concealeddarkness13 @ratracechronicler @onmywaytobe and @nightskywriter

(Takes place towards beginning of pre-heist prep week)

Indigo leaned back in her office chair, scanning over the documents on her computer screen. Research, reports, contracts… All things that she made a note to go over in detail later, after her meeting was over. She glanced down at her watch. He would probably be here soon. Maybe she should go wait for him out in the lobby, though on the other hand, he knew where her office was. Technically this lab was owned by the capitol anyway so he could come and go as he pleased. Indigo tapped against the armrest of her chair, letting her jaw set in frustration. How good would it feel to wait for him here, to make him seem like he wasn’t even a priority?

But she sighed, stood, and made her way down the hallway. As nice at it would be to try and knock Snow down a level, she couldn’t have him suspecting her little grudge.

He wasn’t there yet when Indigo stepped into the lobby, typical. Behind the front desk, the receptionist popped her head up with a polite smile. She was new, only worked there for a few months since she her predecessor mysteriously disappeared. It was a shame; he’d been good enough at his job. Rumor had it he’d gotten a little too comfortable criticizing Snow in circles which he should have just kept his mouth shut. Not that his replacement was bad, but Indigo wasn’t really sure they even needed a receptionist most of the time.

The front door opened and in stepped one of President Snow’s advisors. Indigo smiled as she greeted him and led him down the hall towards her office, pushing down her resentment. Snow said he would be meeting with her, not his advisor. Sure, maybe something had come up, and it wasn’t like she hadn’t met with this advisor countless times for their less than legal agreements, but still. How dare he.

He took a seat across from her desk as she closed the door behind them. “I don’t remember the last time I’ve been in here,” He said. “Hasn’t changed a bit though.”

Indigo sat across from him, leaning back and crossing one leg over the other. “If it works, why change it, right?”

“Still,” He looked up over the desk, meeting Indigo’s eyes in an inquisitive stare. “Why the sudden change of heart? What’s wrong with the apartment? It would have been nice to have this conversation over some wine like usual.”

Right. She usually used it for these casual, off-the-record chats, but now… Well she’d had to move it to her office last minute due to the whole conspiracy to commit treason. Of course he would have found it suspicious, why hadn’t she thought of that?

“Truthfully,” Indigo let her head fall to the side, pressing her hand against the side of her face. She sighed. “I have a rat problem.”

“Rats?”

She nodded. “They’re huge and they eat everything they can get their thieving little hands on.” And responded to questions with far more snark than Indigo would have liked for an uninvited guest. “If you happen to know a good exterminator, let me know because I don’t know when I’m going to have the chance to deal with it myself.”

The advisor laughed. “Good luck with that.”

“Thank you.” Indigo let her hand drop and sat up straight again. “So, what brings you here?”

The joking atmosphere vanished and the advisor leaned forward. “Have you heard what’s been going on with the games?”

Indigo paused before answering. She was fairly certain he was referring to the band of rebels she’d picked up, but there was a chance he was talking about something else. “What part of the games are we talking about?”

“The tributes.” He answered. “One in particular.”

Oh, the one they’d picked up in the arena. “Skylar Tresting?” When he nodded, she continued. “I’ve heard bits and pieces, and I saw what they did at Robin’s interview.”

“Well, Snow isn’t happy with what they’ve done.” The advisor said, as if that wasn’t crystal clear or their probable intention. “And given how rebellious these games have been, I’m sure you understand the need reign in control again.”

Indigo nodded along, watching carefully. She wished he would just spit out what Snow wanted from her. He never came, or sent someone to talk to her, unless he wanted something.

“He’s planning on using them to do it, but I’m sure that you’re aware that they’re… A challenge to control.”

If they could remote hack into a capitol video feed, than a ‘challenge to control’ was an understatement.

“So, where do I come in?”

The advisor smiled, manufactured of course. “Snow’s planning on holding a gala as a show of power, and to make some important announcements about the future of the games, and will be having Skylar attend. They’ve been outfitted with, for lack of a better term, a remote shock collar, but we don’t want to underestimate them again.” He leaned forward. “So he was hoping you’d be able to help.”

Did she look like a peacekeeper? “How so?”

“Well, it’ll have to be something effective, yet not something that would look too out of place.” He went on. “It’s supposed to look like nothing is wrong after all.”

If he was coming to her, he was probably expecting a mutt. “Considering mutts aren’t usually at parties, I’m not sure how inconspicuous I can be.” She thought a moment. “Although…”

She opened a drawer on her desk, took out the tablet inside and scanned the reference files for the creatures she had actively on hand. Something with sharp spines, huge teeth, obvious aggression or venom were probably out of the question, which ruled out a good chunk. Something noisy would draw too much attention, and something too big would probably take up too much space. She opened one of the files and scanned through the notes. With a few tweaks, there was one that might just work.

“It’s a prototype, but it might be useful for you.” She slid the tablet towards him.

Displayed on the screen was a creature that looked like a wolfhound, save for overlapping viper’s scales on the lower legs and muzzle, and the pit organs along it’s upper lip. It wouldn’t be fun if they sent it after Skylar, and might make their little plan of freeing them a bit harder, but unless something went wrong it’s attack strategy wasn’t lethal. Usually.

“It’s being developed primarily for catching, subduing, and retrieving.” She smiled, “It’s fast, agile, powerful, and has modified canines like a viper’s fangs that retract backwards out of the way when not in use, but delivers a fast-acting venom that paralyzes it’s victims so they can be dragged back to it’s handler more easily.” She pointed at the face. “And the pit organs allow it to seek out it’s target via heat if sight and hearing are compromised.” She leaned back again, tapping a finger against the side of her head as she paused. “Usually I’d avoid anything with any kind of venom for this kind of situation, but the most recent group we’ve raised are actually quite friendly most of the time.”

The advisor gave her a look. “Most of the time?”

“Besides when they’re attacking, yes.” She nodded towards the tablet. “I’ve been experimenting more with the inclusion of mechanics and little devices to better control neurological function. If Skylar still has their transmitter from the games, I can implant a receiver, program it to the right signal, and the dog will only see them as their target. It can be remotely activated as well, so at the push of a button it’ll go from docile to targeted attack in an instant.”

The advisor looked over the profile. He seemed to be considering it, evaluating it, but Indigo knew he didn’t really have a clue what he was looking at. As good as he was as Snow’s advisor, he didn’t know a whole lot about genetic engineering. But she didn’t mind the pause. She’d have to find a way around that dog herself if there was any chance of messing with Snow at his own party. With the receiver tuned to Skylar’s tracker, there wouldn’t be any deterring the dog, and even if they could kill it, moving a paralyzed body amid amped up security would be no easy feat. As much as it wasn’t her problem if they succeeded or failed, it would feel like a lot better of a screw you if their plan worked. It would be a bit too obvious if they just cut Skylar’s tracker out right then and there.

Although, the receiver was capable of being tuned to different signals…

“If that’s the best you’ve got, I suppose it’ll do.”

Indigo barely hid her distaste. The best she could do? It was exactly the kind of thing he was looking for! “Do you want it or not?”

He nodded. “Sure.”

“Alright then, I’ll have one tuned up and ready to go in a few days.” She leaned forward to take the tablet back. “On one condition.”

The advisor looked up, and he didn’t look particularly happy.

But Indigo smiled sweetly, resting her hands on her lap. “I want an invitation from Snow, and I want to be seated at the same table as him, the head gamemaker and anyone else of any importance.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, but must have thought better of it when he sighed and stood. “Fine.” He turned towards the door. “I’ll be back for the dog in four days. It better be good.”

Indigo watched as he left, then leaned back. It was a risk, what she was planning to do, but oh the look on Snow’s face as the dog came at him would be priceless. The only snag would be switching the receiver to the alternate signal. Oh well. That was going to be a problem for the rest of them.

#writeblr hunger games #writeblr hunger games 13 #indigo carmine #this file on my computer is named i have a rat problem #because it may or may not be the line i built the whole scene around lol

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rosepetals-flyingbirds · 5 years

Text

Soldier.

With: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Violence, blood, injuries, language.

Note: Finally some action.

Some people like to say that life is made of decisions.

Maybe it was, but for Bucky hasn’t been for a long time.

Shit happens, and for seventy years he wasn’t himself, he couldn’t be himself. And gladly now he can heal, can take the control of his life again.

Maybe life it’s made of decisions, it’s what we make it be.

But loving you wasn’t a decision.

A decision is something you choose to make, something you thoroughly comprehend and allow. Bucky never decided to care, never decided to have his heart melting at the simple vision of your smile, or love the warmth of your skin against his; he never decided to be so utterly fascinated by you.

It easily happened.

The way the rain fall, the way the sun arises, the way the waves break at the beach, how the sun set and the moon shines the night. A few things in this universe solely happen and nothing can change them.

He was too broke inside to do common things as dating, too unsure of his mind to love someone.

But then he met you.

For Bucky, it was such a sweet surprise, a way for the universe apologize for everything. But every time he looked at you he felt in the way fascinating things happens in the cosmos, like it was simply destinated to happen.

No, not a decision at all.

Maybe, each piece of him was naturally purposed to love you.

…

“Buck, we will find her!” Steve said trying to calm his friend down, his hand placed on his shoulder trying to show support, but Bucky could focus on anything besides your face.

Your beaten up face that appeared on Fury’s tablet.

Tied up, wet face due to the tears and such a terrified look in your eyes. Masked men around holding knives and hurtful things as crowbars.

Bucky could feel deep in his chest the pain you were going through.

The shinning screen showing the horrible people that dared to hunt you down solely to hurt him. A message appears under the photo. ‘Come to get her Winter Soldier, before there is nothing else to save.’

The phrase only adds to the turmoil inside his veins. His mind going into chaos because you’re not only hurt but you’re hurt because of him, because of who -and what- he is.

Those Hydra fanatics are capable of anything and they don’t fear death. He didn’t know how much time he had until you were dead.

Steve said something but it was soundless to him, a thin noise making its place while everything seemed in slow motion. Fury called a few more people in the room but Bucky was too busy on his mind to recognize anyone. The mere idea of losing you was enough to make his heartbeat go faster than ever.

It was so hurtful to think of the possibility of never seeing or touching you again, of never hearing your sweet voice that was the sweetest sound for him, your eyes that were his favorite color or even your touch that made him feel safe and loved.

It was so hurtful that he walked out of the Compound not minding his dirty clothes due to the last mission he was on, not minding Steve’s shouts behind him nor the fact that he had no idea where you were.

“Buck you going to search for her in that state won’t help her!” Steve jogged behind his friend who was visibly tense.

“THEN WHAT WILL STEVE?” He shouted back so loud that Steve even flinched, Natasha coming at the picture with the tablet on her hands trying to locate the photo’s IP

Bucky tried to grab the tablet from her hands. "I don’t need your help.”

Finding it Natasha read him the coordinates. “I know where she is, come on.“

Which she quickly evaded. “I’m not doing it for you, Barnes! She is my friend! And before you kill yourself in a car accident is better for us to follow you.”

Bucky knew it was better to not discuss and to not lose time so he walked to the garage with long steps.

Steve was the one in behind the wheel and Natasha was in the passenger seat giving him instructions.

Bucky felt like the time was running out of his hands, at any moment they could hurt you, at any moment they could abuse you, at any moment they could kill you. “Can’t you go faster?”

“I’m going as fast as I can.”

Bucky’s breath was broken and he was sweating cold, his knees moving to a side to the other fastly trying to help his state, his mind seeing your face all over again, how have they found you? He was so careful, your apartment was protected by the best security system, your neighborhood wasn’t a dangerous one, and he always tried to be subtle about his visits, always going late at night.

So how the hell they found you?

After what seemed an eternity Steve stopped the car and Natasha blocked the device on her hand. “Is here. We need to be smarter, I go first and St-”

Before she could finish Bucky had already stepped out of the car, his weapons firmly on his body thanks to the last mission. He didn’t have many bullets left but had his knives would do enough.

Steve called his name as loud as he could while he tried to not call attention for them. Bucky ignored, that was his business.

His mission.

The dark place was disgusting, wet and muddy, rats running around and an old stair covered with dust to the second level. He heard steps with his super-addition and grabbed his knife ready to kill whoever the fuck blocked his way to save you.

Quickly turning into the corner he attacked the first enemy, the man probably doesn’t even realize who he was until Bucky held him by the throat with his vibranium hand and slammed him against the stained wall.

Even with his airways being whacked the man smiled. “The Winter Soldier, we knew you would appear, you are-”

Bucky toughened his grasp on the man’s who started to gasp and tried to kick Bucky in the process. “Where is she?”

The man was red almost purple before Bucky loosened his strong grasp only enough to receive an answer. The man smiled making Bucky glance the man in the eye as he punched his nose.

The man only smiled before Bucky. "You’ll never find her whole. Hail-” Bucky twisted the man’s neck on a tight grip and allowed the useless body to fall on the floor.

The cartilage breaks as blood started to drip of the man’s nose to his mouth.

“Answer me or the next thing to break will be your neck. Where?”

Hearing someone yelling he grabbed his pistol and shoot expertly into the man’s forehead, now they knew he was there, they knew they have reached their purpose.

To bring the Winter Soldier back.

Throwing his empty pistol at the floor he grabbed the AK-47 around the dead man’s neck and kept his search, dozen people appeared but the Winter Soldier didn’t care of gender roles when the women where supporting Hydra and hurting you.

It was a massacre, to say the least.

He didn’t hold back.

Hearing a man gagging on the floor he held the man’s hair pulling him to his feet, blood erupting from his chest down on his clothes. “Where is she?”

The man as a good fanatical didn’t answer, only smiled showing his stupid couple of golden teeth but time was falling off the Soldier’s hands, he needed to find you! Grabbing his knife he dug it inside the man’s bullet wound making him yell. “WHERE IS SHE?”

Bucky let the man fell breathing in relief but it was fast before a bullet went to his skull, no one deserved to live after hurting you.

The man visibly bit his tongue trying to save the information, the Soldier went deeper making the yell even louder.

“The-the third floor!” He yelled.

The Soldier didn’t even bother to look at his job before he went upstairs to find you, he only stopped to throw the empty weapon on the floor and grabbing someone’s fully loaded pistol. The man had yelled the place, so the horrible people holding you probably has moved already.

There was a clear path as he searched for you, he probably had killed all of the others “agents” anyway.

Hours of therapy, years of trying to get better, trying to forget his past and of what he was capable to do. But now it didn’t matter.

Only you mattered.

Hydra had created him, had tortured him, and now they thought they could take you from him? Hurt you and reach their wish of getting him back?

They would suffocate on their own poisoned blood before that happens.

Never a mission has been that hard before, never!

On the third floor there was only one filthy door, he heard someone downstairs opening the heavy door but he didn’t look back, he only kept walking trying to reach you.

Kicking the door open he saw a man holding you with a knife against your throat.

You.

The mere sight of you. All bruised and bleeding, tears falling on your face made his anger double mixing with the pain.

The blonde man smiled. “Look who finally arrived,“ The man looked down at you trying to break free of his disgusting hold, the Soldier’s grip remained firm on the pistol, the safety was off already. "She’s so feisty,” A long repugnant lick where placed on your neck, the man had spent the last hours threatening to touch you, to “ruin” you on his words, he only didn’t already because his partner was too busy making plans for how they would take Bucky with them, how he would give up his life to save yours. “You will let me go or I’ll slice the bitch-”

POW.

Feeling the arms around you losing you turned on your feet seeing the man collapsing on the floor. A perfect hole made on his forehead.

Trembling you looked up to Bucky… or on ampler words… Soldier.

The man dropped the gun on the floor and ran to your reach grabbing you on his safe arms. "Bucky.” You sobbed.

“Shh shh, I got you, baby. I’m so sorry, doll! I’m so so sorry.” He repeated and placed his hand on your head trying to hold you as near as possible.

Bucky didn’t care you were bloodied, sweaty and in tears, he only cared that he found you, that he saved you.

You broke the hug and kissed him with all the strength your weak body could find.

Breaking the kiss with a grunt you touched your split lower lip. Bucky’s finger touched it and kissed the side of your mouth before interlacing his firm arms around you on an almost mortal embrace.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry they caught you, I wasn’t careful enough, I wasn’t-” He almost sobbed.

On a way it was his fault, his past’s fault. But you didn’t care. “I’m okay, you came to save me.”

“Of course I did.” He affirmed, your shaking fingers reaching his cheeks to get rid of the tears.

“I was so afraid, they kept saying how they would take you back, how there is that place in Russia where they would use the words against you! I- I couldn’t even imagine-ne.” Stammering you started to cry again, you started to hyperventilate, panic set on your veins.

Bucky held your face on his hands and looked deep into your eyes. “I know what they wanted, my love. But they won’t get it! I promise you.” You nodded and smiled at him, your savior. “Now let’s go home.”

Your fingers grasped tightly onto his clothes as he helped you to walk out of the hell hole. Your legs were shaking and he realized that, in reply he placed his hands on your thighs lifting you up on his body, you used all strength you could to lock your legs around his waist.

Looking down the stairs he saw Steve and Natasha. “Y/N, close your eyes.” He asked, it was almost a plea, he didn’t want you to see with your bare eyes the terror that the Winter Soldier could cause.

He ached to burn the construction to nothing, burn his past and burn anyone who dared to hurt you.

Getting out of the place you opened your eyes momentarily seeing the number of people in the floor, Steve’s cerulean eyes were the next thing you saw, he mouthed 'look at me’ believing you were scared of Bucky’s doing…

(…) of the Winter Soldier’s doing.

But you weren’t.

You loved Bucky with all you have, and if he loved you enough to ignore his fears and go to save you. What sort of love is better than that?

Reaching the car he helped you in before closing the door and walking to the other side, Steve looked at the mirror at Bucky trying to see the turmoil of the last happening, but he only saw relief.

Natasha probably called Fury and asked to send some people to ‘clean’ the place. She entered the car and nodded to Steve who started to drive.

“Bucky?” You called softly, too tired.

That was it, you would ask about the people, would ask why he didn’t solve it in another way. “Mmm?” He mumbled, fear set on his chest.

He couldn’t bear the idea of you fearing him.

Kissing his hand you let a sigh. “Let’s go home.”

Smiling in pure relief he nodded and kissed your forehead for long seconds, you were there with him, safe.

“Yes, doll. Let’s go home.”

…

#bucky barnes x reader #my love

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violet-bookmark · 5 years

Text

Princess of Dorsa, by Eliza Andrews, Ch. 1 & 2

I will make a chapter by chapter review of this book because I have a lot to say about it. Obviously, beware of spoilers if you want to read it.

Quick summary: Princess Natasia doesn't expect anything more than to marry a man of her father's choosing that will be the heir of the Empire. But after an assassination attempt, the Emperor is afraid that other noble families are conspiring against the Dorsa family, so he names Tasia his heir instead. But the Empire is crumbling and several kingdoms and spies are trying to sow discord inside the court.

TL;DR: Game of Thrones but with a bisexual protagonist.

We begin with the protagonist dreaming about her mother before she abruptly wakes up; she's at Marka's house, the son of an ambassador. They just had sex and fell asleep, and Tasia is not pleased because this means she has to run to the palace before the guard shift, because the night guards are her friends but the morning guards would rat her out without a second thought. She doesn't seem to like Markas a lot, mostly she seems to be with him because she finds him physically attractive.

Jump to the assassination attempt, which is very illogical. The book mentions that, just after the princess gets out of her lover’s apartment, a shadow starts to stalk her. So the assassin followed her out of the castle, waited for her while she had sex with Markas and even left them enough hours to have a nap afterwards, and just after the princess went out of the apartment he tried to kill her? What a gentleman. Why didn't he sneak in while they were asleep, killed the princess and blamed her lover for the murder? Even if her boyfriend woke up, there is an easy solution to that. Kill him as well, pretend everything was orchestrated by another jealous lover and bam, instant murder without anyone from the nobility being suspicious. After all, the princess is dressed like a commoner and she had the poor sense of not bringing any bodyguards with her in case things went awry. It would have been super easy to pass this as a murder committed by a civilian. Which is the reason that princesses and queens in real life were more cautious than this, and even then some of them ended up being killed by civilians anyways (see Elisabeth of Bavaria, Empress of Austria).

I understand this scene was to show us that 1) Tasia is rebellious and sexually adventurous, as she sneaks out of the castle at night disguised as a baker's girl and mentions having other lovers, 2) that she can be rowdy like the night's guards, who she is friends with by virtue of bribery and sharing dirty jokes. This could have been shown to us in another scene without having the attempted assassination thrown into the mix. Or even then, the scene would have been way better and more realistic if she at least had a bodyguard with her, something normal for a princess. It would have also added drama to the scene and some real fighting.

The princess and the assassin have a clumsy fight, and then, this happens:

He put her knee against her back, pinning her to the ground. When he leaned close to turn her over...

Why is the assassin turning her over? To say hello? He could kill her while she is on the floor, face down, immobilized and at a greater disadvantage. His knife could reach her heart and lungs perfectly from that angle. He is an assassin, he should know that. Why isn't he killing her?

As I said, he is such a gentleman.

She resists, but due to the fact that she doesn't know how to fight, she is easily overpowered and about to die yet again.

Then the chapter ends, which I don't understand because there was no need to cut the scene in two like that. It feels anticlimactic. If the second chapter was from the Emperor's viewpoint or from a guard's viewpoint, I would understand, but it's not. But back to where we left: due to the fact that we can't have the protagonist die, the assassin rises his knife dramatically again despite the fact that he was already about to stab her before and waits enough time to be captured by a couple of guards who happened to be in the vicinity. He heard his screams, but instead of finishing the job or, you know, running away, he just stood there like ??? Until he got captured. Amazing murder skills.

After that, Tasia grabs her royal ring from inside a loaf of bread (??? Who does this? Who bakes a loaf of bread with a royal ring inside? What if someone steals the bread? What if somebody crashes into her and the bread falls and she loses the right loaf among the crowd? There is so much potential for things going wrong here...) And puts it on her finger, but makes sure to turn the royal crest down so nobody will see that she is the princess. A bad decision really. She was almost murdered by a man who knew who she is, why should she hide her identity? She will get in trouble, but she almost got killed because she is the princess, the guards should be informed. But it's her lucky day: neither guard seems to pay attention to the fact that the supposed baker girl was tearing her own bread apart to get a ring out of it, and therefore don't find out about her royal status.

She weighted both options. Nearly losing her life was deeply disconcerting. But explaining to her father why she was leaving Marka's apartments at four-of-the-clock... That was even more disconcerting.

Also, she could try to make up an excuse, there are a lot of reasons royals might want to sneak out of the palace. She doesn't have to tell him she was seeing Markas. I would understand her fear of being found out if her father would lock her up upon discovering that she has a lover, or if he was going to do something as equally as horrible to her. But the way she explains it, she makes it sound like he will be disappointed and lecture her for it, which is obviously not as bad as being almost murdered.

After that, one of the two guards walks her home, but obviously she lives in the castle so she has to think of a way to distract him so he doesn't find out she is the princess (this whole thing is just stupid). The guard thinks that she is a prostitute and sexually assaults her and it is too early for this bullshit. There was no need for this whole scene apart from the fact that the author wanted to be edgy and show us how misogynistic the guard is. Sexual predators do take advantage of circumstances like that, but this whole scene doesn't make a bit of sense to start with. Why is she putting up with this? She is the princess, surely disappointing her father is better than almost being raped. There is no need to write about the princess being degraded like that, especially when the situation makes no sense to begin with. It is purely gratuitous and disgusting.

After running away from the pathetic wannabe rapist guard, who is still chasing her by the way, she goes to the palace and calls for the night guard to help her. Pathetic wannabe rapist catches up with her and starts to scream obscenities at her, but then the night guard comes to the princess's rescue and he chickens out.

She sighed heavily, because she knew what she must do, even if it was distasteful to her. Revealing what had happened tonight to her father was no longer a choice to be deliberated but something unavoidable.

Servant of the Empire before servant of my desire, she recited to herself. It was probably for the best. If there was someone who knew her movements well enough to attempt an assassination tonight, then her father needed to know.

... Couldn't you have reached this conclusion sooner?

The cat is out of the bag, and this begs the question of why the entirety of chapter 2 happened when she got found out anyways. Once again: this was stupid and gratuitous.

The worst part? Instead of calling for pathetic wannabe rapist's removal from the guard, as he proved to be unfit to protect anyone, the princess tells the night guards that he is a ~hero~ and that he protected her. What the fuck. You're the princess! He's just a guard that took advantage of you! Obliterate him!

#Princess of Dorsa #Eliza Andrews #bisexual literature #bisexual protagonist #wlw books #fantasy #Violet reviews #chapter by chapter review

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stillthewordgirl · 7 years

Text

LOT/CC fic: Kruos (ch. 5 of 5)

What if...the Time Masters took Leonard instead of Mick to become a bounty hunter?

There are a few spots where I tweaked the timeline from the actual episode(s). Didn't think anyone would mind too much. ;)

Very CaptainCanary, as always. Many, many thanks to @larielromeniel, who made this a much better story! Can also be read here at AO3 or here at FF.net.

Sara’s not the only one irritated with Kendra. Heck, she’s pretty sure most of the team is, although some are hiding it better than others.

But...

Sara takes another sip of Mick’s pilfered scotch, then glances up at Len, who's seated in the jump chair she’s leaning against and drumming his fingers on his leg. And she thinks about Kruos.

And about waking up this morning after a long and somewhat more satisfying night's sleep, Leonard’s arms around her, about getting a few more exploratory kisses in before Gideon called them to another meeting.

She hadn’t been able to kill Kruos…Len…before any of this had happened between them. Granted, no Savage had been involved there… but with all the history between Kendra and Carter, how much harder would it be to shut that door forever?

That, of course, just makes her a little more annoyed, at Kendra and at herself. She takes another drink of scotch and nudges Len, passing it up to him. He lets his fingers brush hers as he takes the bottle, almost as demonstrative as a kiss in public as far as he’s concerned, and she smiles.

Of course, that’s when Ray and Jax make their appearance, babbling about future tech and the giant robot…and everything changes again. There's a light in Rip's eyes Sara’s rarely seen: the wonder and the tragedy of hope.

“Plot a course for the Vanishing Point," he declares to Gideon. "Tonight, Vandal Savage faces justice for his crimes!”

Rip doesn’t quite pull off his dramatic gesture, though. Because no sooner has he taken a swig of the scotch then Leonard is on his feet, every nerve vibrating, hands in fists.

"No," he says, staring at Hunter. "No."

"Mr. Snart…”

"I go back there, they're going to find me." There's something just this side of panic in his voice, and Sara climbs to her feet, standing at his back, Mick approaching his other side. "They're either going to want to put me down like a rabid dog or they're going to try to break me again. And this time, they won't let a piece...a piece of me remain."

The bridge is silent. Rip stares at Leonard, and Sara thinks there's a hint of sympathy there.

But not enough.

“With all due respect, Mr. Snart,” Rip tells him quietly, “this is about more than you. I will not let the Time Masters have you. But we are going to the Vanishing Point. Now. As fast as we are able.”

Leonard leaves the bridge after that, and no one comes after him, not Sara, not Mick.

He's just as happy about that, really—and he's pretty sure they know that, know that he needs the space with his thoughts, which are chasing each other in circles. He walks the hallways a few minutes, catching himself when the ship shudders to a stop.

Something's going sideways already.

Alexa.

He should go back to the bridge, find out what's going on. Make sure...most of the others...are OK. (He gives less than a rat's ass for Rip right now.) But the panic, the gift of the Time Masters to someone who'd otherwise managed to compartmentalize such things as a teenager, bubbles up again...and he walks.

Memory chases him, nipping at his heels. Death and rebirth, a thousand new ways to be broken. Declan, insisting that his newest creation be his best, gazing at him with a critical eye, as if he were a badly fired pot that needed to be recast. Again...and again...

He's not sure how long he walks before he finds his way to the galley. Sara's not there, but Mick is.

"You remember Alexa?" he asks the other man.

Sara knows enough to give Leonard space when he leaves. She means to give him some time and follow, see if there's anything she can do. Perhaps, at least, distract him.

And then...

The ship's falling apart, and Savage is creepy, and Jax is dying, and then...and then...

Then Len is barreling into Rip's study.

He's seething inside, angry and panicking no matter how hard he tries to hide it, and Sara can't really blame him. And she can't really blame him for any of what he says; it's all true. And yet...

Mick's no happier than Leonard. Rip doesn't really try to argue, just resignedly tells them to take the jump ship, and then looks to Sara.

"What about you, Ms. Lance?"

"Give us a minute," she says, staring at Leonard... then lifts her eyes when Mick and Rip continue to stand there.

"A minute," she repeats.

Rip's face goes blank at the notion of being thrown out of his own study, but Mick laughs and, slapping a hand on his shoulder, guides him out. Sara barely hears them go. She's still staring at Leonard, who's looking back at her with …

She'd almost say, with his heart in his eyes.

He wants to ask her to go with them. He wants to beg. He can't quite seem to get the words out. And Sara's looking at him with this watchful expression, one he just cannot read.

Then she takes a step closer, close enough to touch, close enough to...

"You know, I get it," she tells him quietly. "Everything's going wrong. And they tortured you...it's OK to call it that, Leonard." She reaches up and traces the side of his face, gently. But she doesn’t look into his eyes. "And I don't want you back in their hands any more than you want to be there, Len, believe it or not. No one would want that for someone they...that they care about."

A deep breath. "But if you don't face them at some point, you'll have this hanging over you forever."

She lifts her eyes then, and meets his, and he realizes there was never really any question here at all.

"And I'm not going," Sara tells him. "I have to see this through. I have to."

He doesn't bother stopping back at his room; there's nothing there he needs. He can get a new parka. Nothing he's stolen in the various time periods has enough value to sway him.

So why does he feel his steps getting slower and slower the closer he gets to the jump ship?

There's only one thing he wants on this ship.

"Boss? What is it?"

Things keep happening, one after another. Savage escapes and Gideon goes offline and Sara learns how to fly a time ship. Well...it keeps her busy. It also keeps her from having the clearest idea what's going on in the rest of the ship.

Mick had entered the bridge with Stein, sniping at the older man about how he’d sent Jax off in the jump ship, but Sara’s too distracted and busy to question what that means. Did Leonard go too? Is he still here? If so, then where is he?

By the time the dust settles, with no sign of him, she has to presume that he's long gone.

It's OK, really, she thinks numbly, walking the hallway to her room after they land. Better than giving the Time Masters another weapon. Better than putting him through that again, or having to fight him.

She walks in the door to her room without even looking up, kicking off her shoes with a sigh, turning with a stretch to head to her empty bed. It's probably not a good idea to sleep, but she can rest...

Leonard is leaning there, watching her with an expression that says he's not sure if he can expect welcome or violence.

She's staring at him again. Leonard shifts uncomfortably under that unreadable blue gaze.

"Couldn't do it," he says finally. "Not without you. Well... that's the most important part."

He looks away and shrugs. "And you're right. If I don’t face them at some point, I'll be running from them forever. That might be true anyway, but.... Savage needs to go down. I want a hand in that. This is going to go sideways, but maybe if we stick togeth..."

Sara hits him with the force of a hurricane, a typhoon, a blizzard, so fast he doesn't even see her coming, her hands wound in the collar of his coat and her mouth hitting his so hard that their teeth clash together. He puts his hands to her shoulders to steady her, then deepens the kiss, spinning her around so that she's pressed up again the bed, boosting her up just a little to even the height difference.

When they finally break the kiss, they do it slowly, so slowly, as if neither of them really wants to put any space between them at all. Leonard’s hands are at her waist, and Sara has her arms wrapped around his shoulders, one hand curving around the back of his neck, fingers slowly caressing his neck.

Leonard leans his forehead against hers, and Sara can hear him breathing, the sound ragged in the current silence of the ship.

“Last time I was here,” he says after a moment, in a rough voice no louder than a whisper, “at the Vanishing Point, they took…me…out, and put in ice.” The noise he makes can just barely be called a laugh. “I thought, used to think, that I was the cold one. All logic. And that was how it should be. Just the job, and the thrill of the game.” He sighs. “And then they made me Kruos. And I learned how wrong I’d been.” He pulls back just a little farther, just enough to look in her eyes. “I didn’t feel…anything at all…for a long, long time. Nothing.”

There’s so much pain in his eyes that Sara swallows, hard, bringing one hand around to trail it down the line of his jaw.

“And now?” she asks gently.

“Now…” His eyes are intent on hers as he lets out a long breath. “Sara, prove to me that I’m human. That I’m not their thing anymore. Give me something to take with me, just in case…”

She doesn’t want to hear the words, so she grabs both sides of his collar again, pulling his mouth back to hers.

They don't have much time, and they know it, but they spend what they have proving, to themselves and each other, that they're human, and alive, and here. That their pasts do not define them; that no matter what they've been though, they can still feel.

More than hatred, more than anger. Even something as fragile as...love.

Because there was never any question there, either.

There was never really any question at all.

They're still curled up together in the aftermath, warm and drowsing, when Len's eyes snap open. He stares off into space a moment before his gaze flicks to her.

"Do you hear that?"

"Don't try to distract me," she whispers, running her fingers down his side again.

But Leonard's pulled away in a heartbeat, reaching for the clothing discarded across the floor, throwing Sara's to her. "We...you need to find a place to hide."

"Why?"

"Alexa!"

Leonard grabs her hand, pulling her down the hallway toward the study, pausing only a moment before locating and popping the hatch. He only has time to steal one hard kiss before she disappears into it, her eyes full of anger and sorrow, but too practical to argue or refuse.

The hatch has only just shut when the Time Masters' minions march in, guns at the ready and pointed at the man with the reputation as one of the greatest successes—and failures—of Time Master Declan.

In another circumstance, he might have fought. As it is, he pulls his fingers away from the cold gun and slowly raises his hands.

The faster they get him out of here, the less likely it is they’ll find Sara.

He's not sure what they do with the others. Him, they take directly to Declan. On the way, he wraps his mind in ice again, his soul in cold. He'll do nothing to show that he has any inconvenient feelings for these miscreants; he'd simply rejoined them because he hates the Time Masters, that's all.

That's all.

Declan shakes his head in disappointment, a betrayed father dealing with a prodigal son. Well, Leonard’s dealt with paternal disapproval before.

"Clearly, your conditioning was not as thorough as it should have been," Declan tells him coolly. "Even then, you were the greatest of our hunters, Kruos."

Leonard stares at the Time Master and he thinks of ice.

And of shards all over a bank vault floor.

"Tell me…what is your name?"

"Fuck off!"

"What is your name?"

"Leonard...Snart..."

"What is your name?"

"…"

"What is your name?

"… Kruos."

Sara emerges into a deserted time ship. With one else around, she has to rely on Gideon, and the AI and the assassin concoct a plan to get their missing team back.

Druce takes Rip to the Oculus chamber...and shows him the awful truth.

"No matter what you do, it will happen," he tells the renegade Time Master about the future, "and there is nothing you can do to stop it."

Declan watches as the tall man with the empty eyes is unstrapped from the table in the chamber in the depths of the Time Master compound.

“There is much hunting to be done.” The proud father figure smiles. “Let us start with Sara Lance.”

Back in the hangar, Sara Lance is placing explosives on time ships. She has no one to watch her back again...but Gideon is whispering in her ear.

Back in the holding cells, Rip tells Mick and Ray that they’ve never been in command of their own destinies, after all.

In the armory, Kruos looks long into the eyes of his own helmet…and then puts it on.

The Vanishing Point may be outside time, but within, events tumble on regardless.

The Waverider takes off, piloted by a very determined--and motivated--rookie. The other time ships try to follow…and a certain song echoes off the sides of the hangar as they all fall to the deck.

“Don’t mess around, you just got to be strong…”

While the Time Masters attempt to locate the Waverider, Sara drops secretly back into the complex, leaving Gideon in control of the ship, peppering another area with fire. Sara arrives at the holding cells just in time to take down the guard and knock out Druce. She runs to the cells, freeing Mick, as Stein speaks.

“Ms. Lance, your timing is impeccable.”

Ray’s intake of breath is her only warning. “Or not!”

Sara spins, Mick boiling out of the cell to stand at her side…and Kruos, in full armor, comes stalking out of the hallway. His gun is raised, and it’s pointed right at them.

As Mick bellows, “Snart! Fight those fuckers!” Sara takes a deep breath.

Then, “Len,” she whispers, “fight it.”

They stand shoulder-to-shoulder, facing down the man in armor. Sara can feel the tension in Mick’s arm as they stand, but she doesn’t take her eyes off…Leonard. Always, Leonard.

Who seems, in truth, to be made of ice as he stands there, watching them.

But neither does he attack.

A man in Time Master robes appears out of the darkness, staring at them, his face twisted in anger. “Kruos,” he says, raising his voice, “fire!”

A second. A lifetime.

And a blue-white beam of pure cold erupts from the gun as Kruos…Leonard… swings it around, hitting Declan. The man only has a second to realize that his greatest “creation” never really was at all… and then he hits the ground.

And shatters.

There’s no time to talk, after. No time for “thank god” or “I was so worried” or even “nice shot.” They all pile back onto the ship. Gideon swiftly cedes control back to Sara, who tries to hand it back to Rip, who waves it off. They manage to make use of Kruos’ tech to escape.

And then Rip tells them that none of it might make any difference at all.

"The Time Masters have this thing called the Oculus," he relates, "which allows them not only to gaze into the future, but to engineer it."

And, as a team, they decide… that it’s time to take their destinies back.

Sara helps Leonard take the armor off, later, piece by ugly, functional piece, and if there’s enough symbolism there to choke on, well, they don’t dwell on it.

“You should have run,” he tells her, perhaps a tad too harshly, as he weighs the last protective panel in a hand. “I didn’t lead them away from you for you to trade your life for nothing.”

But she knows him, now, knows how the harshness can cloak all the feelings he usually keeps buried, and doesn’t bother arguing. Instead, she shakes her head and reaches up, capturing his head in her hands and pulling him in for a long, long kiss.

"You're not," she tells him, holding his face in her hands, "nothing."

And any more words that might have been said…well, they’re saved for later.

"Hello again, Rip. Right on schedule."

Of course, they walk right into a trap. Druce and the Time Masters are waiting for them.

Fortunately, so is Jax.

"You thought you were the only one who knew a thing or two about time travel?" the kid quips to Stein, and Leonard can’t help but smile a little to see him, healthy again and rescuing them. But there’s no time for welcomes or congratulations. They make for the wellspring, and Raymond sets to figuring out a way to destroy it.

Rip looks at the group--and fixes on the only team member, other than himself, with knowledge of the Time Masters and their technology.

“You lot, guard the entrance," he tells the others. "Mr. Snart…you’re with me.”

Leonard gives Sara a long look before she leaves—and her, him one in return—before following the captain and the Boy Scout into the cavernous space where the wellspring awaits.

He meant what he’d told her, once. He doesn’t believe in destiny, not really. But something’s still going to go sideways here, he can feel it.

Now, if he can just figure out what it is.

“This is how you die!” Hunter yells at Raymond, anguish and conflict in his voice as the other man tinkers with the innards of the device.

“It’s OK. All my life I’ve wanted to make a difference." Raymond's voice is steady. "Creating a future for you guys without the Time Masters’ influence, that counts.”

Leonard, picking off another Time Master lackey, growls. “Don’t be stupid, Boy Scout!” He turns around just long enough to give the man a blue-eyed glare. "Better to live to make a difference!"

Raymond might have replied, but Leonard doesn't hear him. More of the guards are piling into the room, and for once, he's fighting in concert with the captain, picking off guards here and there, the blue-white blasts of the cold gun mingling with the blue light from Hunter's pistol.

Somehow, they're keeping the horde back. Maybe, he thinks in a tiny corner of his mind, maybe they can pull this off.

He should have known better.

"Uh, oh," says Raymond.

Fuck. Leonard spins around and glares at him.

“There seems to be a failsafe to prevent tampering, which probably includes trying to blow this thing up.” The other man takes a deep breath. “I have to maintain contact with the failsafe in order to destroy the Oculus.”

That’s it. That’s it. Alexa.

For a moment, Leonard thinks about it. About taking Raymond’s place. Revenge against the Time Masters. Blowing their beloved gadget all to hell, himself.

But...Sara.

And isn’t the best revenge, as they say, living well? He knows, now, what he has to live for.

"Raymond," he yells, stepping up, as Hunter gapes at them, "the left arm of your suit! Can you lock it in place?!"

"What?"

"You heard me!"

The Boy Scout's eyes are wide but resolute. Still, he does as Leonard asks, flinching just a little as the other man brings up the cold gun.

Leonard can't say he hadn't been tempted to undo all the upgrades made to the gun, just because of the men who'd made them. But he is, if nothing else, pragmatic, and those improvements were bound to come in handy eventually. He turns the cold blast to a setting he's rarely used, one that narrows and strengthens the output to a fine, highly concentrated beam, fires...and brings it down on Raymond's forearm.

The man howls in pain, but the suit … and the flesh and bone underneath... shear off right under the elbow, the arteries within frozen solid for now. Holstering the gun, he catches Raymond as he falls, noting with satisfaction that the hand is still locked in place around the Oculus mechanism, and starts hauling him off the platform, Hunter belatedly coming around to help.

Mick and Sara come running in when they're about halfway out, Mick scooping up Raymond to lug him the rest of the way to the ship. Sara, her eyes full of relief, falls into step with Len as they make their escape.

Just in the nick of time.

They still have to go after Savage. They still have to rescue Kendra. And, to even Leonard’s sorrow, it may be too late to save Hunter’s family.

But they're free now, unchained by time or Time Masters, and that's worth some small celebration. Raymond's arm had even been reconstructed by some sort of nifty gadget Hunter had had on this ship all along.

The former Time Master is still pondering their next move, but Len and Sara have spent their little bit of time to proving to each other, vigorously, the truth of Rip's words about the Oculus not affecting emotions or such personal attractions.

Sara’s drowsing in his arms—she’d kicked Time Master ass out there, Mick had told him, gleefully—but Leonard’s awake, trailing fingertips down the sheen of sweat on her spine, marveling that he’s actually comfortable here, like this, and more so, that so is she.

After a moment, she opens her eyes and smiles at him, shaking her head at the preoccupied expression on his face.

"What are you thinking?" she asks, reaching out to touch his face.

"About destiny."

"Oof.” But the smile is gone, replaced by a thoughtful look of her own as she props her head on a hand, regarding him. “How so?”

"It’s…I wonder how things would have gone if Declan hadn't taken me to be Kruos, had taken Mick the way the Time Masters had wanted and planned,” he muses. “They orchestrated everything; Declans's the one who went off the script. Might have changed everything.

"I thought Mick wouldn’t have a way to fight them. I think maybe I was wrong. But if it’d been Mick…I don’t know.” He turns his head to look at her. “Maybe things would have happened differently. And maybe I’d never have had the nerve to…”

Sara lifts her eyebrows at him, eyes dancing. “What?” she asks, playfully.

“Hmmm.”

Kruos is gone. And Leonard Snart lives.

"I'm been thinking about what the future might hold," he says finally, lifting his eyes to hers, "for me, and you...

"And me and you."

#captain canary #kruos #sara lance #leonard snart #legends of tomorrow

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breatheinthesea · 7 years

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Truth, set me free

If you’re reading this right now, I assume you’re coming from my video or you just happen to be among the few thousand who still follow this account-

either way, and regardless of if you know me personally or not, I just have to start off by saying thank you. A genuine thank you- one that could make me cry just thinking about. I know anyone who couldn’t give a rats ass about me or my life wouldn’t be here, so by default, I’m guessing (secretly hoping) the rest of you do. Anyway, thank you for reading this. I know it’s long as hell and will take up some of your minutes here on earth, and that’s important to me, that you chose to be here rather than anywhere else. I want it to be like we’re sitting on the bed talking like best friends do when they really need to open up about something that’s been hurting them, even if I’m a complete stranger or just another “youtuber” to you. And speaking of best friends, I haven’t really fully opened up to mine about what’s been going on, so if you’re reading, I’m sorry for being so distant this past year and a half, and I hope this blog post helps everyone and anyone in whatever way it can. It will surely be helping me.

So, where to begin? is the question I am haunted by every time I think about actually writing this blog post. I begin obsessing over the starting point and then never end up starting, which can be so utterly frustrating. I have a thousand thoughts racing through my head, it’s hard enough to grab onto one, let alone place it in the perfect sequence. While writing used to ease my mind, now I am just overwhelmed by the never-ending options of words to use, opportunities to make run-on sentences, and ways to say everything I wish I would’ve said differently. I over-analyze every sentence, read it over and over and have to convince myself not to delete it. So as you can imagine, I’ve avoided any kind of writing lately- journaling, blogging, texting friends and emailing companies back, etc… You get the idea. Basically, something I used to love has turned into a struggle, something I avoid like the plague. And my mentioning this is to make a comparison of what my life’s turned into- something I used to love and now completely struggle to manage on a daily basis.

If you happened to sit through my agonizingly long video titled “Where Have I Been?”, then you’re probably already familiar with the fact that I’ve struggled with mental illness for a while now. If you didn’t watch it, and don’t want to, I basically explained that in the beginning of 2015, I began losing myself. I started questioning my religion that I had put my entire identity into, thus launching me into an identity and existential crisis, which I couldn’t really recognize at the time and surely didn’t know how to process. I felt extreme guilt, shame, and self-hatred for not being the person I thought I was for so many years, and who others expected me to be. I only confided in very few people, and they all told me to just keep praying and trying to mend my relationship with God, and when that didn’t work, I felt obligated to wear a mask of certainty to compensate for how terrified I was of actually admitting I didn’t know what I believed. It was exhausting and painful to keep up that facade, especially being so formerly open and confident about it online.

Now that I’ve spent the time analyzing exactly what happened and asking myself “where did it all go wrong?”, I’ve discovered the questioning and doubting actually began in 2013. I just couldn’t handle it anymore after two years of feeling like a fake, a sinner, a liar, and a person who was surely going to hell if I had died. And as it goes, those internalized emotions that I had been bottling up for years eventually manifested into harming myself in a desperate attempt to get the people around me to realize I was not okay. And it worked. I got the attention I desired, and it quickly turned into an obsession that I had not prepared myself for at all. I always believed I was in control of it, but just like with any addiction, it soon took control over me. I was powerless to the urges and addicted to the rush. I started cutting on February 7th, 2015 and didn’t stop until October 5th- 3 trips to the ER, 25 stitches, and 4 days in a psych ward later. It was the worst time of my life, and I was sure I had hit rock bottom.

Nope haha.

After months of therapy, I thought things were starting to look up. I moved out of my apartment that encased those terrible memories, and planned to start completely fresh. I was determined to get happy again. I began embracing the unknown and started aligning my actions with my morals. I discovered veganism and realized what I had been missing my entire life. I started smoking marijuana again after 5 years of demonizing it, which in turn helped keep me away from the heavy drinking which was a major trigger for my self-harm (I finally quit after cutting through a nerve that made me lose feeling in half my forearm.) I moved into an even bigger apartment, started dating someone who thought like I did, and spent all my time and energy trying to control and perfect every aspect of my life to make up for the years I felt I had wasted. I made my beauty room white and sparkly like everyone else’s, bought a better camera, new lighting, a monitor, a green screen, a new microphone, etc… and once everything was perfect in my eyes, I vowed to my subscribers that I was back, that “2016 would be my bitch”.

Nope again haha.

I still felt empty. I still wasn’t satisfied. I was still filling a void. While I attempted to make everything around me perfect, I just felt more and more imperfect. Thoughts of being incompetent, a failure, not good enough, and a waste of talent were all I could focus on. Filming gave me anxiety like I had never experienced before, and I was never satisfied with any video I tried to produce. My heart was simply no longer in it because the perfectionism I acquired inhibited any form of enjoyment that I formerly got from creating youtube videos. And this shattered me, because I had no plan B. I had no college degree to fall back on, no other passions, this was it for me. So I pushed on, and tried my best, but fell short over and over. The shame of not feeling capable of doing a job I used to be in love with, and that others would kill for and find incredibly easy, weighed on me every day like a ton of bricks. I watched other youtuber’s execute videos so flawlessly and passionately and instead of getting inspired, I became crippled with envy and decided I could never be as talented, as professional, as funny, as naturally beautiful as them, and this was so disheartening coming from a person who used to make videos called “how to be confident”. I realized that while I had recognized that I lost myself somewhere along the way, I never truly found myself, and still haven’t. I got swept up in my own depression, leaning solely on my boyfriend to make me happy, and we all know that doesn’t and cannot work for the benefit of both people in a relationship. I became attached, overly dependent, extremely jealous and it only caused more pain. I had so much negative energy, it was like carrying a cloud around me where anyone who came close would just suffocate with me.

Of course, I didn’t want to feel this way, and I noticed the only time I felt okay with myself was when I was high. So I stayed high. My addictive personality leached onto this plant like it was my new savior. I couldn’t stand being sober, because it revealed how miserable I was inside. I wasn’t willing or simply didn’t know how to deal with my emotions, and it got worse and worse as I continued to self-medicate and ignore the root cause of my depression and anxiety for months. I tried medication after medication and the up’s and downs from those side effects were truly unbearable at times. There were weeks where I didn’t enjoy anything or even recognize myself. My favorite foods didn’t appeal to me and all I wanted to do was sleep where I finally felt safe in a dream. I remember listening to music and there wasn’t a single song that made me feel anything. Nothing. It’s like I was a robot, just a body with no soul inside. I remember walking into my mom’s house one day and not recognizing her face. I remember getting my skirt altered for my best friend’s wedding and I was just staring out the window thinking “I’m not real. None of this is real.” I often felt like I was tripping and had to have someone convince me I was a real person, in a real world. My perception of reality would become so distorted. It sent me into panic, I would have severe episodes of rage and confusion and no one would know what to do about it or how to help me. This happened multiple times a week for a period of time. This is the type of shit that convinces people to kill themselves because they lose any attachment to themselves or outer world. It was the scariest shit I’ve ever experienced, and partially why I’ve sworn against anti-depressants and mood stabilizers for a while.

My life felt like it was falling apart, and well, it pretty much was. My income was decreasing at an alarming rate due to the fact that I was barely filming videos and terminated all contracts with any companies that tested on animals (all of them). I spent my money so carelessly because I never imagined that with this job I could ever fall back into debt. I was financially stable for so many years and expected that to be the case for a long time, but I was very wrong. The last month of living in my apartment I had to ask another Youtuber to loan me money to pay my rent, which was incredibly embarrassing and shameful for me, but thank god for kind and generous friends. I moved back into my moms house in October and my depression, anxiety and manic episodes continued full force.

I’m getting anxious at this point, biting my cuticles like a mad man trying to make sure my story comes across accurately. I’ve been putting this off for so long that now I just want it done and over with so I can move forward. But I don’t want to forget anything, or not include the important details of what’s been happening. But then again, I’m in control of this, and I think I just need to hurry it up. So, long story short, things got even worse once I moved home, which I didn’t think was possible. I was still smoking every day, my relationship with my mom was turning very ugly with almost every conversation ending in “fuck you” instead of “I love you.” I barely left my room and was sleeping more than any normal person should. My rage was at an all time high. We found a different psychiatrist to do some intensive testing on me, and after 4 hours of questioning, it was revealed to me that I had Borderline Personality Disorder. This was relieving and shocking all at the same time. I didn’t know what that “disorder” was when I first found out, but once I researched more, I realized I definitely acquired it somewhere along the way, and this was somewhat good news because now we at least had some direction to go in as far as treating it.

I started therapy again but it just wasn’t enough. I was still an emotional roller coaster every day, with no ambition to help myself and still completely reliant on marijuana to mellow me out. Everything overwhelmed me, everything scared me, and nothing was good enough. I would just stare at my walls and genuinely want to be dead. I was consumed by negative thoughts, and felt there was no way out. That’s when I decided to go to treatment.

I’ve been in treatment since January 25th. I go to a psychiatric facility every single day for 7 hours, and will for another month. We focus on DBT therapy and so far I’ve seen some improvement. I no longer have the manic episodes, and I’m learning how to control my anger in healthier ways. I’ve been sober for 67 days and will remain so for the duration of my treatment. I’ve met some pretty amazing people there, and just the structure and routine of it has been something I’ve needed for a long time. I don’t consider it a “cure” and my mental illnesses are something I will have to battle for a long, long time. Maybe even the rest of my life. But I can see the light now when for months all I saw was darkness. I’ve started reading books again and have fallen in love with learning and expanding the horizons of my mind. I’ve realized that nothing is the same as it was and nothing should ever be the same as it was. I am constantly growing and constantly becoming. I know now that I had a very abrupt spiritual awakening when I couldn’t yet comprehend that I was wakening, and it has proven to be the most important challenge in my life thus far, and for that, I am grateful.

As far as Youtube goes, all I can say is I didn’t come this far to only come this far. I have shit to say and minds to reach. I am working day in and day out to overcome my perfectionism and anxiety so I can return to Youtube as the absolute best version of myself. It will take time. It will take patience on both ends. I have to re-learn how to love myself and I’m sure some of you can relate to that. But I’m just so fucking thankful the universe gave me this job and this platform that I get to come back to when I feel ready. I know not everyone has agreed or understood why I can’t just film myself putting on makeup, but I hope this blog post has helped you realize why. When you get an illness, you take time off of work. When you get a mental illness, you should 100% do the same. It was me against myself the entire time. I don’t know exactly when, but I stopped loving myself and it crushed my spirit, crushed everything I had ever loved, including Youtube. And don’t get me started on the overwhelming amounts of guilt for not using my platform to spread the vegan message. That’s a whole other story.

Meditation, DBT skills, books, and TED talks are about the only things keeping me sane right now. I’ve had to accept the fact that I’m a work in progress and I hope everyone else can too. We’re all struggling with something. Life is fucking hard. But I’ve survived my darkest days and know that the only direction I can go from here is up and that is exciting. But I am still scuffling for stability, especially financially. I know it’s been obvious with the sporadic sponsored videos but for right now, that is just the reality of it. I need money to stay afloat just like you do, and I’m trying my best to stay true to myself in the process, but it has been very compromising. I’m still trying to figure this all out. And I appreciate those of you who are understanding and defend my integrity in those situations where it is questioned. I get it, though, and I’m going to make it up to you. It is my goal to return to my channel as a new evolved being, with a passion for makeup artistry and MANY other things. I am completely open for suggestions when it comes to future content, but I won’t be reading comments for a while until I know I can handle it. My friends and family will be reporting back to me with requests and constructive criticism so we can still stay connected.

I can’t believe I’m about to end this post when I never thought I’d see it come to completion. What a weight it was to carry. I feel so relieved and so happy to have gotten this off my chest and into the abyss of the universe. I cannot predict what this will mean or what it will do for someone, but my hope is that it is a catalyst for support, love, and positive endeavors moving forward. I will not return to social media if I cannot do it wholeheartedly. I must be unapologetically myself as I am still learning who that is, so it will be interesting haha. For the first time in a while, I am excited for the future. I hope y’all are too. Thank you immensely for your unconditional support and friendship. Despite everything, I know I am very blessed.

Thank you for reading.

“Transformation isn't sweet or bright. It’s a dark and murky, painful pushing. An unraveling of the untruths you’ve carried in your body. A complete uprooting before becoming.”

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hellyeahgeorgeorwell · 7 years

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Winston Smith was born in May of 1944* into a world filled with nuclear warfare. Not much is known about his parents, but when he was eleven years old, with his father most likely dead, his mother and baby sister hid in the old London tubes to shelter themselves from the revolutionary war above. Selfishly, Winston stole some food that his mother had been saving. He ran away and never saw his family again.

In 1971 Winston marries Katherine, a woman with no drive or aspirations except for whatever the Party tells her. Winston is never happy with her and at one point contemplates shoving her off a cliff during a nature hike. Sex with his wife was a boring, uninspiring affair which Katherine called doing her “duty to the Party”—attempting to create children. They separated after only two years of marriage due to the lack of conceiving. Years later Winston muses that they are always still technically married since they never got officially divorced.

We are shown that Winston has started his job at the Ministry of Truth by this time. His job is altering documents per the Party’s wishes and translating them to Newspeak. Despite the soul crushing reason for his job, Winston enjoys the tediousness of it and finds a small area of creativity in coming up with ways to use Newspeak.

One day a slip of paper comes his way that probably ends up changing his life. A little backstory: during the Revolution three men, Jones, Aaronson and Rutherford, are arrested and made to confess to trumped up charges which make them good scapegoats for Big Brother. They are tortured much the same way Winston will be and sent free after they confess. Winston ends up seeing the broken men (one of them shedding a tear during a speech by Big Brother) at the Chestnut Tree Cafe and soon after they are never seen from again. During his fateful day at work Winston comes across a newspaper article that proves that the men’s confessions were a lie. This has a profound effect on him, but he throws it into the “memory hole” anyway (a small grate where information is burned to ashes). Even though the information is gone, it still lives in Winston’s mind and starts to change his feelings towards the Party.

Perhaps someone from the Party noticed Winston staring at this piece of paper for too long because a few years later it (including top Party official O’Brien) starts it’s surveillance on him. Maybe the Thought Police is able to manipulate dreams because Winston starts dreaming of O’Brien and his “Golden Country”.

When our story begins it is April 4, 1984 and Winston skips eating in the canteen for his lunch break in order to come home and start illegally writing in a journal he bought in a junk shop some years before. His interest in O’Brien begins that very day during the Two Minute Hate. He shares a brief look with O’Brien which leads Winston to believe that O’Brien knows that everything the Party stands for is a sham. Winston does not dare act on these suspicions but suspects them all the same.

During this lunch break we are introduced to Winston’s neighbors in Victory Mansions, the apartment building he and other middle-class Party members live. This is the Parson family, of which Mr. Parson is a general acquaintance at work. Mrs. Parson has a problem with her drain and just assumes Winston knows how to fix it, which he does because it is nothing more than nasty clogged hair. During the visit to the Parson’s flat, their two children harass Winston and accuse him of being a traitor to the Party. This rattles Winston, as children are raised by the Party to be spy’s on the adults around them. And Winston has not been having very orthodox thoughts as of late.

Winston takes pleasure in small objects that were made before the revolution. This includes his journal, which has creamy paper, and a paperweight. The paperweight is glass with a piece of coral inside. He buys it at the same second-hand shop he bought his journal at, from a kindly old man named Mr. Charrington.

Shortly after this adventure, another life changing moment happens: he is given a note that says “I love you”. The note is given to him by Julia, a woman Winston knew vaguely by sight around the building. During one Two Minute Hate, Julia is right behind him and Winston feels an intense hatred for her: simply because she is a woman who would never want to have sex with him and, he figures, is a spy. This turns out not to be true and the two develop a love affair.

Sex for pleasure is frowned upon by the Party. In fact, one of it’s main goals is to abolish the orgasm. Sex is only for procreation; to create future generations of Party members. Winston and Julia start meeting out in the country at first but then Winston rents a room above Mr. Charrington’s shop. Little do Winston and Julia know but Mr. Charrington ends up being a member of the Party and relays information to O’Brien about their activities.

Because soon after acquiring the room O’Brien makes his move. O’Brien tells Winston that he is actually a leader amongst the “Brotherhood”, a group of rebels against the Party. He gives Winston “The Book”, a nickname to Emmanuel Goldstein’s, “The Theory and Practice of Oligarchical Collectivism”. In The Book it details the rise of Big Brother and his revolution, as well as the backstory to the Party. Winston is fascinated by The Book and attempts to read it to Julia who promptly falls asleep. Most likely this was a little nod to the reader, of whom Orwell knew would also find The Book boring and would probably skip through the section.

Of course O’Brien is not part of any Brotherhood (of which we never know for sure if it exists or not) but uses this to finally give pretext to arrest Winston and Julia. While naked in their room, the two lovers are taken by the Thought Police to the dreaded and fearful Ministry of Love—the jail and torture center of the Party.

Winston is kept here for over a month before finally meeting with O’Brien. In an instant Winston realizes he has been fooled and had basically led himself to slaughter by befriending the upper-class Party Member. O’Brien begins to torture Winston, his main goal to slowly change Winston’s mind from a “sick” person to someone the Party can control. During the sessions he reveals tidbits about the Party, like how the Party’s main goal is to become powerful for power’s sake. And to make Winston to not only believe but to KNOW whatever the Party tells him, even if it’s something wrong and contradictory like 2 + 2 = 5.

After a few months of this, Winston is still not broken and this is demonstrated by the fact that Winston will not give up his love for Julia. As long as he loves a person instead of the Party then his torture is not over with. Finally, he is taken to Room 101—the room that has the “worst thing in the world” in it. What’s in it? Whatever the person being taken in is afraid of most in the world. Fire, suffocation or, as in Winston’s case, rats. O’Brien places a caged contraption over Winston’s head that, when a door is opened inside of it, rats will run out and start to eat Winston’s face.

Winston’s mind finally snaps and he pleads with O’Brien to “do it to Julia”—torture her instead.

O’Brien is able to piece back together Winston’s broken mind, much like they did with Jones, Aaronson and Rutherford. He builds Winston’s mind into the persona of the Party’s ideal citizen. Winston finally knows that 2 and 2 make 5.

In the spring of 1985, a year after the story starts, Winston is finally out of the MiniLove. He runs into Julia in the park and the two no longer love each other, or have any feelings towards anyone whatsoever. Winston reflects on this meeting while having a drink in the Chestnut Tree Cafe. Suddenly the telescreen behind him features a small speech by Big Brother. A small gin-soaked tear trickles down Winston’s cheek. He may not love another human being but he loves Big Brother!

* Although the month of Winston’s birth is never said, I always assumed it was because Winston is the same age as George Orwell’s adopted son Richard Horatio Blair. Orwell took many timelines and places and people from his real life and it is not a stretch to believe he did the same for Winston’s birth and age.

(Article copied from my Writing As I Please blog)

#george orwell #winston smith #nineteen eighty-four #1984 #essay

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