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yeojaa · 4 years

Text

( TO THE MOON AND BACK. )

You use your one brain cell for love. It doesn’t always end well.

pairing. kth x (named) f!reader. jjk x (named) f!reader.

genre + rating. non-idol!au. there’s some fluff and there’s definitely some angst. general.

tags / warnings. none, except for a lot of emotion. 😐😐

wc. 4.9k

beta reader(s). @hobi-gif as per usual (i owe you my life) and @yeoldontknow for tolerating me when i came crying into our messages.

author note. this was a commission for the endlessly lovely @1088x1088. thank you so, so much for loving this series enough to support it. it was a ton of fun to write (even though this chapter did really hurt). finding my voice again was a bit of a struggle, but i hope you enjoy it! i’m sorry this was late!

chapter 12.

You can feel the difference in the air the moment you step out of the building and into the arms of your bouncing, bubbly boyfriend. There’s something about him today - an intensity that radiates out of him, refracts off his edges like an aureate coin. He’s got the biggest grin on his face - so wide and unabashed you think he doesn’t even need the umbrella he’s brought along - that the sheer power of his joy might be enough to push the rain clouds back. It stretches wide, brighter than the summer sun, and spills light into darkness, chasing away all the spiders. It warms you from your toes through to the tips of your fingers, filling your veins with lovely golden thread, dust that settles in shades of yellow.

“Did you win the lottery or something?” The question is paired with a sweet kiss to his cheek, your entire body sagging comfortably against his as he wraps his free arm tightly around your shoulders and mirrors the gesture. Your cheek tingles where his lips land. You think he might be a wizard, magicking away all the hardships of your day.

“No, even better.” The excitement is nearly bursting out of him, seeping out at the seams that hardly hold him together. How he hasn’t simply told you yet is beyond you but you know Taehyung’s a bit dramatic - loves the build up as much as the climax - so you wait patiently, linking your hand through his elbow when you move onto the sidewalk. It’s easy to fall into this routine: the one you’ve perfected over the last few months. It never feels stagnant, never anything less than a warm hug on a cold day. You find comfort in that.

The sun sits low on the horizon, casting long shadows over the street. They throw shapes across Taehyung’s face, bathing his features in darkness when you step beneath an awning and out of the downpour. His eyes never stop twinkling - like stars against the night sky, lighting up even the places where the rays can’t reach.

“We’re hosting an exhibit for local artists.” He’s trying to be careful, hold himself together. Still, you can hear the way he speaks a little too fast, too quick to be nonchalant. Bite back a laugh when the words tumble into each other, failing under their restraints. “The director asked me to curate it.”

He stops and looks at you then, hopeful and bright and so brilliant you imagine the sun’s disappeared behind the clouds and found a new home in his smile. You know how much this means to him - how long he’s worked for this, how it’s cost him his parents’ affection and long hours that he’ll never get back. It goes without saying he deserves this, this incredible opportunity.

It doesn’t do it justice, but you offer your congratulations regardless, slipping support seamlessly between syllables. Blending the words with a squeeze of his arm, a delighted little giggle that spirals into the air like a Christmas orange, tart and sweet. “That’s amazing, Tae!”

He’s a million miles over the moon, eyes waning, lost to a flood of emotion as he beams down at you.

“I did all the research and she was happy with it and—” A twinkling laugh breaks up the excitement, steeping it heavily in the sound as he exhales a big breath that seems to steal a little bit more of his coherence. “I just—it’s huge. It’s next month but the director’s given me the go-ahead. Me!”

You decide you’d really like to bottle this moment forever, to keep it on a shelf in your thoughts. You think it’d be the best cure for a bad day, better than any chocolate, more comforting than an afternoon nap.

“Of course you, Tae.” You’re matching his smile, cradling his jaw in the small of your palms. Thumbs brush over the seam of his bottom lip, the freckle that dots the edge of his nose. “I’m so, so proud of you. You’ve worked so hard for this.” You know the words aren’t possibly enough but you gift them anyway because it’s still nice to hear. Everyone deserves that recognition, kindness to hold you up like ribbons, to keep your head held high.

“Thank you, jagi.” He sighs a soft sound, all rounded edges and a deep, abiding satisfaction that fills every inch of his expression. It’s still there when he begins walking again, guiding you back to his favourite place with you at his side. You fit exactly as you should, tucked under his arm, the tips of his fingers brushing over the teddy bear fabric of your coat.

“Have you told the others yet?”

“No, I’m going to tell them at dinner.” The pride that colours his tone is shades of yellow - marigolds sprouting between vowels, sunflowers encapsulating consonants. “I want Jungkookie to show his work in it.”

He must not feel the way you stiffen at his side, how the blood runs cold in your veins and sticks you to the spot like an icicle. You play it off well enough, tripping over your own two feet and righting yourself as if it were all just a matter of misplaced steps.

(In truth, you could’ve sworn your heart had plummeted through your feet, all the way to the molten core. You can feel it burning to a crisp, setting every nerve aflame at the mere thought.)

“I don’t want him to feel like… it’s a handout though.”

“He won’t,” you reassure around the strange, familiarly silhouetted lump in your throat. You are intimately familiar with Jungkook’s work - what spreads over canvas in lovely lilac shapes, stark ink bringing relief to watercolour. You know who inspires the evening skylines, the immaculate and yet effortless scenes he brings to life with strokes of pen, paint, charcoal. (Or, rather, you knew. Things could be different now.) Who graces - had graced - the rolls of film, painted in sepia tones until brought to life by a careful hand.

(You have a feeling they aren’t - that they’re just as they’ve always been. Too much the same to be safe. It’d be impossible to miss, even with blinders on. You and Jungkook would always be complicated.)

“He’s worked really hard.” Taehyung’s more or less speaking to himself, carrying a one-sided conversation as you duck back beneath sheets of rain, droplets rolling off the umbrella he carries and splashing all over your toes. Suddenly, the torrential downpour feels fitting, as if the skies have opened up to soothe the burn beneath your skin. “It’d be nice if he just caught a break, you know? Something to give him more confidence.”

He, as well as you, knows just how much of himself the youngest puts into his work. How every canvas, every roll of film, represents a corner of his heart. Offers a glimpse into his thoughts.

You, possibly more than anyone. But Taehyung doesn’t know that and it certainly isn’t your place to say, so you simply nod along, humming in agreement as you wander the quiet Seoul street. (It’ll be busy soon, once you pass from the residential area into the bustle of nighttime and exploration. Not even the rain can keep people away, everyone far too eager to catch up amidst a crowd of smoke and drinking games. You’re used to it though - used to being dragged out by the ragtag group for their impromptu yet regular weekly dinner dates.)

“I’m sure he’ll say yes.” It’s all you can offer as your boyfriend rambles on, lost in his own world

“Really?”

The amount of hope - strung up on fairy lights, dim and yet somehow so full - rings crystal clear in Jungkook’s voice, tearing your thoughts from the piece of pork belly you’re carefully grilling. You do your best not to jerk your head up, already all too aware of the topic. You remind yourself it’s not your place and you flip the slab, gaze trained on the fat that renders out and slides over the metal grill.

It’s hard to do but you weather the storm, quietly observant as the excitement level at the table turns to eleven. With a group of four it’d be boisterous; with a table of nine, it’s a cacophony of sound, rising above the din of the bustling restaurant. It kicks above the chorus of cheers and clattering utensils, as if this moment means so much more. (It does.)

“You think I’d joke about something like this?” Taehyung’s doing his best to play it cool, to convey something suave and reassured, but there’s the tell-tale wobble of his words, the way his knee bounces beside yours, nervous energy thrumming through his frame like a livewire. It practically pours from his fingertips, shooting out past his teeth as his mouth shapes into that familiar boxy grin that belies his delight.

Not that Jungkook’s any better.

On your other side, his hand’s tensing and relaxing over the tabletop, lips pulling and pursing around thoughts he hasn’t fully formulated. He’d always been someone who had to be moving - tapping his toes, shaking his leg, simply shimmying in his seat - but this is something else. It’s as if he’s on the precipice of a realisation, of diving headfirst into his lifelong dream.

(Which, you suppose he is. He’s wanted this forever, just like Taehyung. The break he so wholly deserved. It warms your heart even as it stills it, stutters it uncomfortably in the small of your chest.)

“I’m just—” Speechless seems to be the appropriate word, because Jungkook simply trails off, wonder in his eyes, his expression that of a child on Christmas. “Thanks, hyung.” It’s a rare occurrence, usually offered with that sly bunny smile of his, but it’s dressed in gratitude now, year’s worth of tenderness occupying the spaces between each syllable.

“Don’t thank me.” It comes, dismissive and yet still just as soft. Rounded by an awareness that exists only within this group, a tenderness that blooms and blooms and never withers. “Just make me look good.”

A teasing comment echoes from across the table - that’s impossible from someone who looks and sounds suspiciously like Kim Seokjin - and your group dissolves into a puddle of laughter, the chorus of amusement dissolving above your heads.

This is too good an opportunity, not the time for your selfish concern. You swallow your worry with a dab of ssam and a crunch of lettuce.

You miss the look Jungkook shoots you.

He has two weeks.

Two weeks to select five pieces he thinks will showcase the best parts of himself, the depth of his dedication, the quality of his passion. Two weeks to go through his extensive portfolio, to rummage through harddrives and pick through his canvases. Two weeks to determine what home means to him.

It’s certainly not the hardest thing in the world - Jungkook imagines it starts with the words Jeon and ends with a certain group of six idiots - but it still leaves him stumped, sitting at his desk for three long hours as he pours through folders, thankful he’d had the wherewithal to name things properly. (None of the Aug17uuuuuuughfuck.raw files of his college days.)

It lightens his load, keeps him from upending his entire setup and throwing it out the window in frustration. Not that he doesn’t still want to. He very much does.

But perhaps it isn’t the hundreds of images that’s the issue. Maybe it’s just one - the same one he’s been staring at for the better part of the evening, unable to move on even when he wants to, tapping over his mouse yet never actuating enough to pull him onto the next slide.

It sits front and centre on his screen and he can’t look away; drinks his fill of it like a man drowning at sea; savours it like a king at his final feast. A photo developed with an accidental light leak and how fitting that is, as if all the sunshine has been captured in the single click, trapped behind the shutter for him and him only.

You’ve always been that to him, though. Crystalline and beautiful, with light catching off your edges, refracting from every angle to spell something like I love you; with fireflies at the tips of your fingers, guiding him home in the dark; with the summer sun strung between your teeth, filling him with warmth.

Could he use this? Would it be too much?

More importantly, how would you react? Had your story ended, chapters of friendship folded between flat pages and tucked within a shelf to accumulate dust? To sit among the tomes long forgotten, never reached for, barely worthy of a second read?

Was this meant to disappear, just like you had? What did that mean for him - for his future? Were you meant to take all the possibilities with you, tucking them alongside your cotton candy laughter, the sly turn of your smile? Were they lost to the tangle of your hair, braided into a knot he’d never been able to unravel?

Jungkook hates feeling like this - all the uncertainty swallowing him whole and spitting him out; leaving him black and blue and bruised all over; dressing him in shades of grey that only seem to fade with each pass through the wringer.

A part of him wonders whether he should just ask. Surely you’d answer the phone, sound so pretty carried over the airwaves he’d probably forget himself.

Could he find the words? Would you laugh in his face?

He stares at the photo and wishes it held all the answers, that the light would offer something more than beauty, more than memories that feel more like nightmares.

Half your face glares back at him, a silhouette of the girl he’d been helplessly in love with. Rays balance across your cheekbone and cut through him like a knife. When he blinks, you’re still there but his heart’s all the worse for it, riddled with nicks and tears.

He’ll choose another, he decides.

Finally, he finds the strength, skips to the next preview - and regrets it almost as much as the first.

(This was his fault, of course. Jungkook had spent so long living in a world with you, saddled at your side, two pieces inexplicably interwoven. Of course there’d be thread still, a red string of fate coiled all the way around his heart, hanging uselessly at his side, snipped by hands that weren’t his own, now gone to tatters.)

It wouldn’t matter so much if it were someone else, if the bits of you weren’t so stark, holding his attention like a star in the sky, endlessly bright and unrelenting. Maybe if he could pretend it was someone else, his hands wouldn’t shake, a tremor in his chest from the way his heart bounces about, demands to be let out, to lay alongside yours.

As it stands, it is you - brought to life by his hands, overlaid in watercolour and black and a blanket of regret. The shapes are impossible to miss: the curve of your hip, rounded and warm, peeking beneath a wash of colour; the river of your hair, the wayward strands that curl across your cheek and tickle the stack of silver that lines your ear; the peek of your tattoo, embossed across your ribs, hidden beneath thin layers of paint.

The longer he looks, the worse it feels. A white pith of a lemon, bitter on his tongue, stinging all the cuts he’s never taken the time to seal up. That cry out now, echo the same sadness he’s felt for the last year.

Was there anything you hadn’t touched? Something that didn’t carry you in its hands?

He imagines there has to be.

And yet, as he goes along, clicks through image after image, he’s only left with reminders. Figments of you with blood-stained teeth and scarred flesh, sharks that patrol his thoughts and bite chunks when he ventures too close. He hadn’t meant to dive this deep - lost somewhere amongst the shipwreck of your friendship, a once beautiful thing now rotten and rusted, devoured by darkness. The empty hulls aren’t where he wants to be, caught on broken anchors and torn flags, sinking deeper and deeper.

He doesn’t know how to get out.

It’s absolutely perfect, because of course it is. Taehyung has put every waking hour into this, coordinating with vendors and artists and hardly sleeping a wink. The walls are painted, artistry strung up for all to see, picturesque beneath an array of lights. There’s not a thing out of place, each piece given their due, framed neatly with thoughtful text painstakingly written by your boyfriend.

There are dozens of people in attendance - the turnout the gallery had hoped for and yet still has Taehyung giddy, eyes wide like a child’s, wonderment written into every lovely facet of his expression.

You’re delighted for him, completely over the moon with how happy he is, pride rolling off him in waves that you’d gladly sink beneath. You whisper words of affection - pride, support - purring them into the warmth of his palms when he sandwiches your face between them and laughs so loudly you swear there’s no other sound in the world.

“Can you believe it?” This boy before you isn’t the Taehyung you know, carefully composed. He’s a comet through the night sky, illuminating, fluorescent, lit from the inside out. Glowing so bright it hurts your eyes, makes you blink once, then twice, then another time just to capture the moment against the backs of your eyelids. (You wish you had your camera with you - something to allow you to remember this moment forever, process it and store it in your pocket for rainy days.)

Your laughter comes in tandem, overjoyed for your love, for all he’s worked for and all he’s now achieved. It spills forth in bell chimes, silver in your ears, and you catch his hands in your own, fingers caught together. “Of course I can.” The distance between you becomes nothing, barely a breath passing as you press your lips to his, offering as much affection as you can in the tiny gesture. “I knew you could do it.”

“Really?” He doesn’t doubt you. Doesn’t even really doubt himself. But he asks anyways and you don’t mind giving, folding your support into another kiss, another squeeze of his hand.

“You can do anything, Kim Taehyung.”

He animates, a coin-operated boy whose sole currency is your words of affirmation. Springs to life with adoration in his step, a giddy smile that eats up everything else and wanes his eyes into crescents. Peaks like the sun above the clouds, endlessly bright - a supernova. “I love you.”

“I know,” you answer with your heart in your hands - in his - when they drop to his sides, fingers still intertwined.

He stares at you expectantly, unabashedly, waiting for the words he wants to hear. (A man with the world at his feet, whose heart still flutters for you.) “And?”

“And?” You parrot, cheeks round, a well of teasing growing in the dimple of your left cheek. It spills forth when his mouth pouts, turns this way and that before settling into an expression that’s utterly undeniable, the perfect blend of endearing and infuriating. When you relent, it’s with further laughter, a nudge of your hip against his as he pulls you close, cementing you to his side. “I love you too.”

You’d been prepared for the people (the professionals, the journalists, all the friends and family, anyone who was anyone gathered to attend) and the chaos (your friends - all of them running amok while simultaneously on their best behaviour, biting back laughter, echoing words of encouragement).

What you hadn’t been prepared for?

This.

Standing before a painted portrait of yourself, blown up ten feet and hung in the centre of the gallery for all to see. Full-lipped and grinning, with hands hiding half your face, dark hair piled atop your head and a bandana knotted below your ear. A picture that you can hear - your laughter sounding off the page, reminiscent of that night so many months ago, standing at the edge of the water, the ocean calling you out to sea. The sky streaked in colours you could never hope to replicate, hues that blend and bleed and build into something glorious, beautiful, ephemeral. An arm that reaches for whoever has taken the photo, light reflecting off the sheen of silver, of gold, of the gems on your nails.

You recognise it in a heartbeat - one that feels like it goes too long, as if it’s skipped not one, not two, but three beats - that thunders loudly in your ears the moment everything snaps into place.

(And oh, how it does. A hundred memories that shudder into a single image and tell the story of an entire summer.

Afternoons at Jagalchi, amid the smell of fish and flesh, eating to the point of gluttony. On the shores with sunshine at your fingertips and a hand in yours, endless possibilities stretching as far as the eye could see. Staring up into the sky night after night, admiring the stars packed against the dark and yet always drawn back to the brightest one at your side, a heavenly body hidden within the silhouette of your closest friend.

Your head on his shoulder during the train ride there and back, the quiet offered by his presence, the comfort found in his form. All the little pieces of himself that had somehow found their way to you: your pinkies intertwined, his dark hair spilling over yours, his breath that came low and slow, condensing between you and turning your cheeks ruddy.

What had felt like a lifetime away - seven hundred galaxies apart, never to be found again, engulfed by a black hole of your own creation.

What now feels like it’s right at your feet, so close you might touch it. That echoes in your chest, a spectre living within your bones come back to haunt you.)

“Pretty, huh?” Hums the voice at your side, filled with too much pride - for himself and his friend, for all they’ve accomplished. Taehyung has no idea, blissfully unaware, heartbreakingly handsome as he studies the image alongside you, lets his stare rove across the contours of the woman’s cheekbones, the shape of her mouth, pulled wide in a smile that might as well carry the world in it.

There’s something familiar about the girl in the painting, something that calls to him, draws him in and keeps him anchored. He wonders what it is, makes a note to ask once Jungkook arrives.

Your answer comes belated, disconnected and strange, a voice too far away to be picked up clearly. (You don’t mean it to - try to swallow down the emotion that crests and crests like a terrifying wave above your head.) “Very.”

“Kook mentioned a girl a few years ago, so I think it’s her.” How he speaks is thoughtful, as if he isn’t sure how much to say. Doesn’t want to overstep even as he offers these tiny bits of information - things he thinks you have no idea about, that’s the same thing that lives within your bones, settled like bedrock that cannot be eroded. (Guilt gnaws at you, turns its teeth cruel and unrelenting and licks the salt from your wounds like the back of a spoon. You swallow it down, listen quietly, quietly, quietly and try to slow the discomfort growing like weeds, the blooming of tiger lilies in the small of your chest.)

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Taehyung’s conversational, adoring, indulgent. He hooks his arm around your shoulders and holds you close, unaware of the turmoil that turns your insides to ash. He holds you like you’re precious - a sunbeam caught in his hands, just for him.

If only he knew.

“Do you want to see the rest?” There’s an eagerness that spills forth, tacks his words to one another and turns them into a single breath. He inhales all the bad and dresses you in nothing but good, pins stars into your hair when he fixes you with that smile and pulls you along, further into the gallery with a hop in his step.

You should say no; you can’t find the words.

So you follow him to his next destination - to another version of you. Another photo, grainy and overexposed, intimate in its detail. A faceless blur, made alive by light, artificial and too white, casting long shadows where there should be none. It’s easier to imagine this is someone else - a girl worthy of this love, of all the emotion captured within the single image. (Someone who could carry the weight of Jungkook’s affection without dropping it, whose hands would be a suitable home for the heart he’s now offered up, laid out ripe for the picking. Sugar sweet and saccharine, held aloft by a branch that threatens to give away.)

The truth is in the details, though, and you see them for all they are. The dainty thread that loops your wrist - mirrored within the frame before you. It sits evident in the freckles on your arms, the wayward beauty marks sprinkled upon your skin, constellations that should have names - do have names, whispered by the boy at your side.

“He’s really got a good eye, right?” There’s that pride again, full-bodied, like a parent with macaroni art stuck to the fridge. It’s sticky and honeyed, bright with affection, lemon tart and yellow - sunshine streaming past like the warmest day in July. It further cements the relationship he has - that they all have - one built upon years of friendship, of togetherness you cannot begin to fathom.

The guilt rears its head again, roars like an angry beast. You bite it back, catch its tail between your teeth and nod along, unfocus your eyes as best you can. The longer you look, the more it grows, spiny and angry and demanding of attention.

“He really does.”

Taehyung’s satisfied with that, too caught up in his own delight to notice the stillness, the quiet. It’s a silence he overlooks, sweeps past without a backwards glance. “There’s one more I want to show you.” The joy is unbridled, eating up every part of him, and your heart thumps feebly in your chest, kicked around by two pairs of feet. “I saw it and it made me think of you.”

You’re surprised this time - because it isn’t you. It’s not the shape of your shoulders or the turn of your wrist. It’s not a half-hidden smile, the dozens of tell-tale signs that would give you away. It’s something far worse, that sticks to your lungs and makes it hard to breathe, wet paper towels plastered over your airways like papier-mâché.

It pains you when you step forward to drink in the colours, the texture that lays everything in nostalgia. An image you recognise because you have the same one in your home, hung upon your wall, taken by your own hand.

Jungkook in an infinity room, bathed in a million little lights.

Except this is a painting, painstakingly recreated, with shadows deepened and white ink spread throughout. One of your most precious memories laid in gouache.

“I swear I’ve seen it before.” It’s a throwaway thought, more for himself than for you, but it breaks you apart, crumbles the foundation you’ve been carefully laying. It kicks your knees right out from beneath you and you swear you’d fall if not for the comfort of his side, the way he holds you up and inspects you curiously. “Are you okay?”

He looks at you with nothing but tenderness in his eyes; you unwind beneath his stare, sinew and bone unfurling, realigning, forming into someone worthy of his love. You tell yourself nothing else matters, that all the what ifs pale in comparison to this - how he looks at you as if you’d hung the stars in the sky; as if you’re more than just a girl who has his heart; as if you hold all the answers to the universe.

“Fine,” you answer, even as you aren’t, as the ground beneath your feet threatens to give way and send you to an early grave. Even as you cannot tear your eyes from the painting, terrified and awestruck, too many emotions turning your senses to nonsense.

You wonder if Taehyung can hear the tremble of your breath, feel it all the way through into the centre of his own chest. You wonder what he reads into it, whether he worries for you. You wonder if he can love a monster like you, who has kept these secrets under lock and key, tucked away into a far corner riddled with cobwebs and spiders and a fine layer of dust.

You wonder and wonder and then you have your answer when he speaks again, something in his voice that steals your attention, pins it directly behind the light in his eyes.

“Don’t you have this in your house?”

tag list. @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @codeinebelle

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mochilici0us · 4 years

Text

One New Message | jjk (1)

➳ 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: angst, thriller, stalker!au

➳ 𝘀𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀:Skye realizes she has to deal with a ruthless stalker when the messages she’s constantly receiving are getting more and more threatening. A stalker that makes her recall memories of the past she swore she would never rake up again

➳ 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 2,5k

prologue, part one, part two, part three, part four

January 2013

''Skye we're leaving in an hour. Please start getting ready'' I had already drifted off when my mother's voice outside the door ruined my sweet sleep. The clock next to my bed says 8 o clock. As it seems, no matter how much I tried to get away with tonight’s dinner my mother is not having it . I ignore her and just slump into my warm bed again.

''Skye I'm talking to you. Get up.'' this time she enters the room and agressively pulls the bedspread. Her voice never fails to get on my nerves.

''What happened?'' I rub my eyes pretending to be clueless

She grins humorlessly “You’re coming to the dinner whether you want it or not. I won’t tolerate your stubbornness again” her long thin arms are now crossed in front of her chest, the whole body posture appears quite aggressive.

“Again?” It’s my turn to laugh. As if she’s less stubborn....

The cocky smile falls from her face revealing a disturbed woman. She chokes back her reply and changes the subject

''I left your dress inside your closet. It's kind of tight you better fit into it'' she chuckles

''I'm not fat mum” I hiss in annoyance

''I didn't say you're fat'' she raises her hands defensively

''Whatever'' I quit trying, an argument with my mum is always lost. My hands make their way to my rumbling stomach and rub it softly ''Mum... Can you please tell Ruby to fetch me a snack? I haven't eaten since five''

''No. We're going for dinner anyway'' she denies shaking her head, her soft blonde curls moving from side to side

''But I'm hungry''

''Sounds like your problem''

Very mature answer from a 47-year-old woman. And they act like I’m the stubborn one in this family. Her words hurt me, I swallow my tears and speak my mind openly, I can’t always behave kind as my parents expect me to

''I'm going to pass out for fuck's sake''

''Watch your mouth!'' she shouts ''This dinner is important to your father, to us, we have to look flawless. I've put so much effort into finding the ideal dress for you. It would be very unfortunate if your stomach seemed bloated or even worse if you didn't fit into it.” She shoots me a threatening look “To conclude, no food till the dinner, get ready please''

After finishing her monologue she leaves my bedroom hurriedly, she has to finish her preparations as well. I'm used to her insults, I always feel hurt whatsoever but it's nothing I can't cope with. What annoys me the most right now is my poor stomach that's begging for some food.

''Hey Skye'' I hear a small voice realizing it's Ruby

''Hey'' my eyes flash when I lower my gaze and see what she's holding

''I overheard your conversation with mrs Westbrook, looks like it's your lucky day'' she smiles and hands me the bowl filled with milk and cereal

“It's light but enough to satisfy your hunger I guess''

''You're an angel'' I whisper and dive into my cereal. They taste better than I thought, when you’re hungry everything tastes better. Indeed Ruby an angel. She always appears right when I need her.

''I have to go now, your parents are probably looking for me''

''Please stay'' I extend my hand and grab her upper arm.

''I wish I could... We'll catch up tomorrow morning'' she pats my hair sympathetically and excuses herself.

Ruby is 8 years older than me. I'm sure you're wondering why a 26-year-old young girl works as a maid instead of exploring the world and living her dreams. Well let's say that life didn't go easy on her as many unfortunate events took place and forced her to leave her dreams behind and work hard. She's been working for us for 3 years and because of her young age and amazing, bubbly character we grew closer to the point I consider her as a best friend. And these small gestures make me love her even more.

8:10. I devour the rest of my cereal and run straight towards the bathroom to take a quick shower. We've got a long night ahead of us...

Present

''What do you mean they didn't agree?'' I question dryly, my eyebrows raised in blatant disbelief

The man across my desk gulps “No matter how much we tried to convice them they clarified they're not interested in cooperation''

''We need this cooperation. If we gain their shareholders trust so that they invest in our company too the success is guaranteed.'' I tap my nails against the table attempting to collect myself.

''I know. What are we doing now?''

''I'm not sure. Just tell Taehyung to get his ass over here right now''

He chuckles ''Do you need a coffee?''

''Right now I need a few tranquilizers with whiskey'' I rub my forehead exhausted

''That's easier to find than your weird coffee. Dairy free coconut milk creamer?''

I crack a smile ''You know that I'm lactose intolerant. I'm not a weird person''

''So what about your odd stevia sweetener instead of sugar?'' he remarks quickly crossing his arms across the chest

''I'm on a diet. Women have to take care of their body, you understand don't you?'' I bat my eyelashes innocently

''Yes but decaf cappucino? For God's sake Skye''

''Hoseok it's time to go now'' I act serious but hardly keep my laughter

''You have no idea how the barista looks at me every time I say all these shits you drink'' The desperate look on his face makes the situation even funnier

''You have no idea how your mother's gonna look at you when you announce you got fired''

''It's time to leave, I have so many errands to run'' he gets up pretending to study his wrist watch ''See you Skye''

''That wasn't smooth Hoseok. Let Taehyung know I want to meet him''

''Okay boss'' he gives a salute and finally exits my office.

I lean back on my chair and gently rub my temples. Last night I had nightmares that didn't leave me to rest.

It sounds weird but I've noticed that I have warning dreams, I found that out when I was 20 years old. I usually don't have dreams but when I do, they are always giving me signs.

Attempting to quench my curiosity I did a little research in order to interpret them and found something called precognitive dreaming but I'm not sure if this is what I have because I still haven't figured whether my dreams can predict the future or they just convey a subconscious message. What I know for sure is whenever I have a bad dream something unfortunate happens whereas whenever I have good dreams luck seems to be on my side. It's been so long since I last had a blissful dream, so many years... I don't believe in dreams however, I'm a business woman that depends on actual evidences and not on my sixth sense or whatever.

But last night you had a nightmare and today we didn't make the important deal with Kim Enterprises, the voice inside my head comments.

''You wanted to see me'' Taehyung interrupts my stupid thoughts

''Maybe I wouldn't dislike you that much if you knocked the door''

''Maybe you would have someone to screw with if you weren't so annoying'' he laughs and takes a seat

''You're laughing? I'm glad because after our conversation you won't''

''I suppose you're referring to the deal with Kim Enterprises right?''

''What happened Taehyung?'' I ask seriously this time

''They are not interested. I tried hard to make them agree but they weren't having it'' he grabs a pen and fiddles with it

''They weren't content with our terms?''

''No, no Skye we both know our offer is very tempting and they really appreciated that. However, they are planning a launch of a brand new product which they developed on their own that's why they're busy and not capable of following our terms''

I nod noncommittally and bite my lower lip deep in thoughts ''What kind of product?'' I finally ask Taehyung

''They didn't say. They made clear though that it's gonna be a revolutionary tool. I suspect it's a cellphone with the new mobile operating system they created last year.''

''You suspect? Based on what?''

''Let's say that some information leaked, you know how these things work. We're not 100% sure though''

''And they declined our offer? They declined an offer from a marketing company like ours? We could have increased sales dramatically. Stupid people.'' I hiss and take a sip of my strawberry infused water, the cool liquid soothing my throat

''We shouldn't push them more, we put a future cooperation at risk''

'' I know.'' I hide my face with my hands

''Hey, don't let this bring you down. We had so many beneficial projects and cooperations this year, we don't need Kim that much''

''It's just... forget it'' I shake my head and Taehyung leans forward and captures my hand.

''What?'' he mutters softly

''I don't wanna fail''

''You didn't fail sweetheart. It's something we both want so much but unfortunately things don't work out every time. Let's focus on the rest of our responsibilities'' he massages my fingers and wrist softly, with care and smiles.

''Ok''I simply reply

''You look tired''

''I didn't sleep at night. And your massage doesn't help, it makes me more sleepy'' I lean back and close my eyes

''You didn't sleep well huh?'' I'm sure he's smirking

''Taehyung shut up''

''No answer. That's suspicious''

''With Grace sleeping in the room next to mine your assumption is invalid. Sorry''

''Hm...Ok. What time are you picking her up from school?''

''In 3 hours''

''Go home, I'm taking over for you'' he stops massaging for a moment''Ugh don't stop'' I plead. A breathy laugh escapes his lips and he starts rubbing again

''I have to come back and pick her up so there's no point to leave'' Grace's school is a block away from the company so it's convenient to pick her up once I finish my work.

''I'm picking her up don't worry, you need to rest''

''You don't have to drive that much, don't worry I can stay''

''You're dead on your feet. Go home please'' he insists

''Are you sure?''

''Yes'' he places a small kiss on my hand and stands up

“Can you drive?''

''Gosh, Taehyung what has gotten into you? Don't be so kind because I may grow fond of you and that's disgusting'' I sing playfully

''I promise I'll start knocking the door from now on. Is this reason strong enough for you to like me?''

''Do it and I'll think about it. Give me my coat'' I smirk

He looks at me and hands me my pink coat, the familiar, boxy smile never leaving his lips.

''See you in 3 hours'' I greet him patting his back

''See you'' he greets me back. Once I step away he stays still, hesitantly yet intensely checking out my back figure until I reach the mirror covered elevator.

Stupid men...

''See you next week girls. Take care'' the ballet teacher says and the small ballerinas slowly make their way to the changing room. There walks the familiar tiny figure, some strands of hair fluttering in the wind although she has a sleek bun secured with a pink scrunchie matching her tutu.

She raises her eyes and when we make eye contact she waves excitedly and whispers something about me in her friend's ear. She's so proud of me, always raving about me in front of her friends and teachers. That's the main reason I always behave so well when she's present, my priority as her role model is to make sure I have a good influence on her.

A few minutes after she appears holding her bright fuchsia backpack.Pink is her favourite colour.

''Hey Skye''

''Hey sweetheart, did you have fun?''

''Yeah but I got tired, my feet hurt''

''Aw, don't worry tomorrow you'll be fine'' I zip her puffer jacket and bid her ballet teacher goodbye as we exit the studio.

''Have you been watching me dancing? I couldn't see you from the ballroom'' she asks while we're walking towards my car

''I watched the entire show''

She simply hums trying to conceal her surprise but I can see her cheeks getting flushed

''Get in darling, it's cold'' I suggest and unlock the car. She sits in the back seat, fastens her seatbelt and waits patienly for the next step.

''Here you are'' I hand her her favourite chocolate cookies along with an orange juice, it’s a part of her post work out routine. She cheers and dives into her snack right away.

It's 7pm, dark sky but the car lights illuminate the busy road

''Skye...''

''Yes sweetheart'' I check the mirror as soon as I hear her voice

''Today we're having a Looney Tunes marathon, you didn't forget did you?''

''Of course not'' I shake my head ''Maybe I have some pizza waiting for you''

''Really?''

''Only if you take your vitamins of course'' I offer and finally turn left into the familiar street. We're almost home.

''No...they taste terrible''

''They don't, they're really tasty in fact'' my eyes land on the mirror to take a look at the road behind

''If I have to do it for pizza, I will.” She nods with a pout on her lips

“You should get me a different flavor, I hate mango”

''I thought mango was your favourite fruit''

''I like it only in my shampoo''

''Okay then'' my gaze travels back in the mirror just to see what I've been afraid of. This car. This red car that has been following us for the last 5 minutes.

''Skye I'm talking to you''

''What?''I reply thinking of what I should do now

''Tomorrow our teacher said we must wear sport clothes because we're playing volley''

''Ok''

''My baby pink set is washed isn't it?''

''Yes''

''Don't lie I saw it in the dirty laundry this morning''

''Grace can you please stop talking for a second?'' She doesn't answer but I'm sure she's pouting annoyed. My house is a kilometre ahead and the red vehicle is still two cars behind.

My heart beats so fast but I can't panic now that my sister is here. I stop in the closest parking lot and wait. Grace examines the place and I'm sure she's dying to ask why we stopped but she doesn't speak.

My heart stops when the red car passes by me but instead of stopping as I thought it would, it keeps moving with the same speed. I stay and watch till it disappears.

Once I realize everything is ok I blink hard, gulping for a breath.Well, I probably have misunderstood things.

My mind is running wild, why would someone follow me? I'm such a scaredy-cat...I start my car and drive back home.

Maybe I should stop watching Criminal Minds...

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seasaltmemories · 5 years

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Mors Debitionem Onem Retribuit: Chapter 1

Rating: T

Summary: The year is 1897, and Alm Schafer is just another university student looking to find his place in the world. However, when his studies take him into foreign lands, he finds himself in the strangest manor he has ever encountered. From the maid's too large eyes to the cook's fondness for knives, what ties them all together is their mysterious mistress: Countess Celica Vaduva.

The Countess is many things: brooding, eccentric, capricious, yet also alluring. As the two are drawn together, Alm starts to wonder if the secrets lining her past just might be the key for understanding his own. Still all information comes with a price. The only question is if he'll regret paying it.

As Alm hugged his overcoat closer to his body, he couldn’t help but bemoan just how far from Ram Village he was.

Back when he had first left, gifted with Gray and Tobin’s teasing remarks and Grandpa’s warnings to carry him to the train station, Berlin had felt like the ends of the Earth. All he had to his name was a newly discovered yet dead father’s inheritance and a burning desire to learn. It was too much to waste away in the countryside, but the sheer volume of universities and libraries the capital had to offer him seemed like it might swallow him whole.

Yet here he was, in the heart of an entirely foreign country with nothing but a satchel and the clothes on his back to call his own.

It had seemed like such a romantic notion back in Berlin. When his professor had waxed the wonders of field research, the chance to engage with a living history and build an entirely new understanding of culture and society, he had wanted nothing more than to be a part of that. He had signed up for the program that day, ignoring Kliff’s letters questioning the practicality of such study or Faye’s worries for his safety. He was going to be a man of science, a pioneer of philosophy, and nothing like inconsistent funding and dubious travel plans was going to stop him.

But reading of Romania and navigating it were two very different things. Asking the locals for directions only revealed just how awkwardly his tongue curled around words he had thought he had known. Their rat-a-tat replies sent him diving for his translation dictionary with an embarrassing frequency. And with only the ever dimming autumn sun to light his way, he was becoming acutely aware of just how alone he was.

He had been lucky to find himself a carriage driver who knew the manor he was looking for. The fact he had charged double of what Alm had prepared to pay had been unfortunate, but he had been too eager to get out of the chilling winds to complain too much. If he had possessed half a mind, then perhaps he would have been prepared for the sight that laid before him once he arrived.

It seemed the estates here less resembled the clean and modern architecture he had grown familiar with in Berlin and more the ancient castles of fairy-tales. Vaduva Manor was a twisted labyrinth of spires and dark stone. He couldn’t imagine any man to have designed such a monstrosity. If he didn’t know better he might have convinced himself the place was some ancient, eldritch beast that had decided to rest on this cliff. It seemed primordial, alien to all conceptions of humanity.

It was only the whine of a horse that managed to bring him back to earth. Alm turned around just in time to see the carriage driver take off back down the hillside.

“Wait!” He ran after him. “Just give me five minutes--please don’t leave me alone!” But despite his cries, the most the driver gave him was a quick “God bless,” and the sign of the cross across his heart.

Alm felt his blood run cold. With a sigh, he mirrored the cross as well and turned to face the manor again.

It was hard to get out of that loop, stewing in the unfortunate turn of events. It was like his thoughts were a runaway train. There was a reason he had described the place as a sleeping beast. It seemed as if it had been untouched by humans for centuries. With the driver gone, he’d have to stay the night here no matter what, possibly doomed to wander an abandoned citadel home to dangerous creatures of all types, and oh why had he ever left Ram if this was all university was going to bring him?

With a surge of energy, he slammed the brakes on his thoughts by slamming the knocker against the door. The heavy thud echoed in his ears, consuming his mind until there was no room left for worry. All he could do was wait.

When the door opened, Alm finally remembered to breath. Quickly he reached for the speech he had prepared.

“Greetings...freends!” He cringed at his mispronunciation. “I have come to request an audience with the Count.” He glanced at the servant, hoping he had made a lick of sense. However instead of the old maid he was expecting, a young girl stood before him, staring.

“Excuse me?” That by now he had at least memorized. Alm had expected to be received in a variety of ways, with confusion or frustration, maybe even disgust, but he hadn’t expected this: a girl swallowed in amber-golden puffs of hair blankly assessing him.

“Count Lima Vaduva.” At this point he was trying to grasp at anything, provoke something in the maid, but her face stayed just as undisturbed. “Please I’m from Engel College you see. My adviser is Clive Herrmann. He told me the Vaduva’s have been benefactors of us in the past, so he might be interested in helping me with my current study and--”

“Count’s dead.” The servant girl voice came out in a slow wisp.

“Dead?” Alm whispered. It was only one word, but it managed to kill all his hopes in one fell swoop. A gust of wind tore through the slips of his overcoat, slithering across his bare skin. He wondered if he had ever been this cold in his life before--if he had even been so lost and alone.

“Yes dead.” The girl’s tone was firm, yet a furrowed brow marred her otherwise empty countenance. “Perhaps you would like to see the Countess?”

Relief flooded his veins, a more heady champagne than the bottle Python had stolen for the gang back during their first years. “Yes, thank you, thank you so much!”

As he was led inside the manor, he felt his nerves calm for the first time in days. The dim candlelight and finely furnished interior proved that the girl was not some ghost haunting an abandoned estate. With a polite yet professional briskness, the girl set him down in a parlor.

“Wait here.” With that she vanished into the rest of the manor without a sound.

Left to his own devices, Alm tried to study his surroundings, hoping it would put the strange exterior into context. After all the, um, eccentricities of the place probably had its own charm. He probably just had to get adjusted to its taste.

Looking at the parlor closely, he could tell that it had been decorated with both care and taste, even if it wasn’t his particular style. Although the more he thought about it, this style didn’t seem to look like anything that had been made in the past twenty years. So strange, usually the parlor was where a family displayed their finest dressings, but then these were probably antiques that had been handed out. Well then again he was just an uncultured country boy, that’s what Alm kept telling himself when he noticed the layer of dust coating the tables.

There was a creak, and he couldn’t help but flinch. Now that his eyes had adjusted from the darkness of outside, he realized just how much the candles left unlit. The corners of the room shifted with shadows. Obviously it was just do the flickering lights, not because there was something there. With a little more time he’d adjust to--

There was a tap on his shoulder, and it took all his willpower not to jump out of his skin. Slowly he turned to find that the girl from before had entered again without him knowing.

“Announcing the Right and Honorable mistress of the manor,” She fell into a deep curtsy. “The Countess Celica Vaduva.”

Immediately, Alm stood bowing just as fully.

“Your Ladyship...” It was only know that he was bent did he regret not pulling out his dictionary to practice this beforehand. “I am honoring to be in your pree--”

Before he could continue, a hand gripped his chin. As it lifted his face, he couldn’t help but gasp. Maybe it was the loneliness of his trip getting to him, but in that moment all he wanted to do was stare and take in the stranger that stood before him.

The Countess was beautiful, that much was obvious to anyone with seeing eyes. But Alm wasn’t a lecherous pervert, he had seen many pretty ladies and gone on his day without giving them a second though. Still for her simple, black silks, there was an unearthly grace to her entire silhouette. From how she held her elegant neck to the way her red curls fell gently across her shoulders to frame her face, it all moved him in a profound yet incomprehensible manner.

“Please don’t try that again.” Her nails scraped lightly against his jaw. “Do you speak German?” Her grasp of his mother-tongue was much more thorough than his of Romanian. What trace of an accent that lingered only gave her words a gentle, soothing lithe.

“German, yes, thank you!” God, even her speech was captivating. Her ruby red lips against her pale white skin were a striking contrast. He wanted to commit everything about them to his memory, from their shape to their texture.

With a jerk, Alm forced himself to look away. Swooning over a noblewoman was not the way to start his field research.

The Countess giggled. Her laughter was thick and weighty, like a warm cloak had suddenly been fastened to you. “My when Genny described you, I didn’t expect you to be quite so shy.” She laughed again, but before he could self-combust from her teasing she graciously let go of his face and moved to sit across from him. “I’m curious about what kind of creature would show up at my door at this hour. Pray tell what is your name?”

“Schafer--Alm Schafer.” He scrambled back to his seat, grateful to move back into familiar territory. “Engel College...Clive Herrmann, does any of that ring a bell for you?”

“Not a single chime.” She laced her fingers together.

“I was surprised to find out that the former Count is dead,” Alm couldn’t stop himself from thinking out loud. “If we hadn’t been under the impression he was still alive Professor Herrmann would have never sent me to disturb his...” He trailed off once he realized he had no clue just who in fact this woman was.

“Daughter. I’m his daughter. Forgive me for not informing the entire world about his death while I have been grieving.” Her apologetic tilt of her head did nothing to hide the bitterness of her words.

“Oh, no, no, I understand that is was just a miscommunication error, please--”

“--Pardon me, Mr. Schafer, but all I really care to know is why you are here.” The Countess huffed. “I’m a busy woman, and you can’t ever regained wasted time.”

Alm took a deep breath. This had not been how he had anticipated his proposal going. It was all moving so much faster than he had prepared, banking on Count Lima’s pride as a patron to secure him a fortnight or so as he eased him into the idea of his research. Yet his sharp daughter had yet to turn him down. He had to adapt and make use of what goodwill he had if he truly cared about his studies.

“I’m very fascinated by aristocracy--” Alm tried to find words that would make sense to someone unfamiliar with academia. “--particularly in how it functions in newly-born modern nation such as Romania, and how the nation-state in turn influences the aristocracy.”

“I see.” The Countess said as if she clearly did not understand. “I’m not sure when Wallachia stopped being Wallachia, but I can tell you are a pupil of sorts, however peculiar you are.”

“See that’s what I’m talking about!” Alm leaned forward, carried away by the insight. “My research is all about learning what people like you think and why you feel that way. The past and present are not two separate planes but shape one another constantly. You must understand both to even approach one. Getting to observe your daily life, talking with you about various issues, why even just being allowed to access your family trees would make me the most blessed of scholars!” He fiddled through his satchel for his coin purse. “I know it is strange to request room and board before it is offered, but I can compensate you. Please understand that I come with nothing but sincere intellectual curiosity. Your compliance could help us expand our understanding of humanity like never before.”

The Countess was quiet, entwined hands hiding her expression. He didn’t quite understand what, if anything, had changed about her in their short time together, yet it still seemed as if something had soured between the two of them. The rancid odor of the faux pas seemed to consume the entire room.

“You play the ingenue quite well, Mr. Schafer, but I also see the true fox that hides behind your eyes.” There was a raspy quality to her voice now. “You come to a maiden’s abode at sunset, begging to know her. To turn you away from shelter at this time would be completely unexpected, a monster’s choice. You’re only mistake though was assuming that I couldn’t be cruel.”

She looked back up at him, those enchanting red lips quirked in a sly grin. “So tell me again Mr. Schafer. Why should I invite you into my humble home?”

Panic settled into his skin. When she put things like that, he did sound like quite the rake, asking to live with an unmarried woman. His first instinct was to try and defend his character, but the Countess gaze was so intense it left him speechless. Why was he here? He knew the steps that had carried him from Berlin to her doorstep, but now with an outsider’s eye, his actions seemed that of a madman’s. Disturbed, Alm cradled his temple. He was trying his best to string his thoughts together, but his mind was like a fogged moor. All he could do was wander it aimlessly as the shadows in the room seemed to grow larger and larger.

And yet just when he was sure they would swallow him, the Countess’ voice managed to dispel the darkness with just a word.

“It was wise of you to not try and deceive me. I have no need for your money, but honesty is quite the rarity.” She stood. “You may stay and conduct your odd research, but by it’s end you must convince me why I have also profited. If I find your answer lacking well--” She smiled, but something about the action was wrong. The vast whiteness of her teeth seemed as if it might devour him whole. “--I’ll suggest my own payment.”

Before he could respond, the Countess had already turned her back to him. “Genny can show you to your guest room. I suggest you retire soon. You’ll find Wallachian nights are often best avoided.”

After the constant back and forth his heart had endured, Alm find it difficult to muster much of a reaction at all for the rest of the evening. Even when the maid and her too quiet steps guided him into another equally alien and dark room, he found sleep was all that could move him.

But before dreamland could claim him, he remembered his journal. He had only gained it recently for this trip, but without proper notes, all his travels would be for naught. Dutifully, he tried to record the day’s events in as neutral and objective manner as possible. Yet when it came time to describe the Countess, he found his mind wandering.

Her eyes were the most exotic of shades. Even know I struggle to name the particular hue. They were likely a unique shade of brown, one that would be perceived differently depending on the lightning.

They were quite stunning, sometimes even appearing to be red.

A.N. Happy Halloween! To celebrate I decided to give these two a vampire au to have some Gothic fun, expect heavy shout-outs to Dracula and general nerdiness!

#celicalm #alm fire emblem #celica #fe echoes #fire emblem echoes #otp: I'll send a storm to capture your heart and bring you home #alm #ships and deserts and swamps oh my #my lame writing #mdor au

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youdecode · 3 years

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How to reduce stress and tension for happiness

Clumsy Mr. Bean, a child in a man’s body, had no one but Teddy as his best friend, whom he takes to the pet shows, holidays, doctor — and what not!

They even sleep and read a bedtime story together. Isn’t it an ideal relationship with a button-eyed, knitted-brown teddy with sausage-shaped limbs? Yeah, simply adorable.

Not only movies thrust unique themes of endearing relationship with toys, but so does reality. They’re more than props.

More than just a prize which a hero wins to impress a heroine. What are they, then? They are comfort, joy, and companion to many and, for me, a necessity.

I have been attached to stuffed toys forever — even before I knew I needed them. I can still spark up a memory of myself as a little girl in a dress, with a lollipop in the mouth, squishing a giant teddy beneath my shoulder.

Over time, my huge white teddy turned into my necessity.

I think we all, as a child, hold a hidden urge to take care of something smaller than us.

When the world is out there, commanding us to follow the rules, we find ourselves in authority when catering to these stuffed toys.

We love to be their guardian, and interestingly, when we grow up, they become our guardians instead, helping us cope with several emotions.

They cheer every age group, not just kids.

According to a study, about 40% of adults still sleep with stuffed animals–or at least have them kept somewhere safe.

Questioning why? The 40% appreciate the more significant role a stuffed animal plays in shaping one’s life.

From teaching development skills to equipping one emotionally, stuffed animals can do it all.

Scientific research has backed how this cuddling companion can fulfill two vital adulthood needs: comfort and safety.

Many consider themselves guilty of sleeping with furry animals — they shouldn’t.

As Prof Bruce Hood of the University of Bristol says, it is relatively acceptable.

His research on our attachment to childhood toys explored how one of every three people sleep with the teddies and more women, as they’re more socially acceptable for it.

Everyone has different reasons for bonding with stuffed toys, but they all tie back to gain emotional stability.

Let’s dive into what stuffed toys generally offer and why I love to get many.

How to reduce stress and tension with A Stuffed Toy

1. Golden Twilight of Healing

Studies suggest that nearly 50% of US adults experience varying degrees of mental health disorders — like depression or anxiety.

During such conditions, soothing comfort from the stuffed toys can offer quicker healing.

Dr. Aniko Dunn suggests:

“…stuffed animals are recommended in psychotherapy and for people who have PTSD, bipolar and other mental disorders.”

I had not pondered earlier, but the very logic resides in why stuffed animals are sold in hospital gift shops.

Promising faster recovery through comfort, squishy toys plant value for every individual — irrespective of age.

But what’s the science of such warmth? Johnson, the owner of a comfort cub, explains rolling stones.

“There is science behind holding a weighted object. When you hold the cub against your chest, it elicits the same physical response as getting a hug. Your brain releases the happy hormones of dopamine and serotonin, which causes your heart rate to decrease, your breathing to slow down, and gives your body an overall feeling of calm and peace.”

Adding my experience, stuffed toys can aid mental sufferings, like coping with a loss.

After my father’s demise, I felt a piece missing within me. The part is still missing. But the toy’s comfort filled my depressed nights.

I remember clinging to a white teddy, which breath comfort in my trauma.

Surrounded by people did not help me. Interestingly, their presence did not last long either.

Relatives and friends were around me for three days. After that? Just silence — a deep silence all around. I admit Teddy was silent.

But yet, I could feel a strange comfort with the silence we shared.

Sleeping in those monstrous nights, when nightmares did not forget to knock, teddy served as my guardian, a protector which I once, as a child, used to be — simply, a classic example of role play.

What I did about it and you can too::

To overcome grief, I loved the idea of memory bears where a stuffed animal is sewn with the deceased’s clothes, offering a more profound connection and deeper comfort.

2. Lift Loneliness Trap

As the world is becoming a global village, are we becoming more connected?

On a surface: yes. Deep down: no. We are getting lonelier. Everyone leaves, except the stuffed toys.

Well, Therapist Margaret Van Ackeren tells well and good,

“In most instances, adults sleep with childhood stuffed animals because it brings them a sense of security and reduces negative feelings, such as loneliness and anxiety.” The tools can provide calmness and a sense of not being alone — much like they might have for you when you were little.

I realized stuffed animals will never break up or develop any misunderstanding, never leaving me all alone.

It is common to see people who get through their tough days in bed while hugging a squishy toy.

It helps to calm down — of course, depending on the level of gravity of the matter, one might need other therapies further assistance, but this first step helps.

What I did about it and you can too::

Whenever I encounter a bad day at work, I recall that a squishy toy is there for me at home waiting to be hugged and ready to calm down my nerves.

I know they cannot fully take the social role and replace humans but surely help ease alienation and loneliness in the time of my need.

3. Feed Sentimental Value

Professor Hood tells guardian, we have our sentiments attached to these stuffed toys, and it is customary to cherish such childish attachments. He says,

“It’s about having a sentimental attachment to things,”

This fact aids us to present stuffed toys as a gift. The delicate gift signifies friendship.

Capable of spreading smiles around the world, stuffed animals top the chart of most appreciated gifts.

I determined the significance of cuddling soft stuffed toys from their wide propagation during Valentine’s days and other gifts festive — they are indeed the center of attention.

I can vouch you will never forget someone who gives you stuff toys, even if the other does!

I clearly remember receiving a pink stuffed doll from a boy’s mom.

Before you develop different ideas, let me clear — it was back in third grade.

I still cherish that gift because it sent me a message of sweetness.

My classmate has probably forgotten about me, but I have not — credits to the pink doll.

What I did about it and you can too:

I drilled into my head that stuffed toys are ideal gifts, as they make others feel loved and valued.

By gifting the stuff toys to the loved ones, I send the message of sweetness across, and gift stuffed-toys to sparkle smiles.

4. Thrive With a Tender Touch

I love these comforting ones because they watch my favorite movies and read my favorite books with me— they are like a pet without maintenance to those who cannot afford to live with one.

I have my teddy by my side, especially when watching horror movies. I need its touch and company, especially!

Interestingly, there is research that suggests why even holding the stuffed toys offer calmness.

When we are a kid or adult, cuddle or touch something soft, we release oxytocin, a hormone that makes us feel soothed and calm.

So, simply feel their softness and function calmly whenever needed.

What I did about it and you can too:

I am more mindful of the oxytocin hormone, and release it often by cuddling anything soft, like cushions, preferably a teddy bear.

5. Sweep Self-esteem Issues

Interestingly, researchers at VU University Amsterdam have shown an impressive finding suggesting how soft toys affect people with low self-esteem, helping them alleviate stress regarding death. In Psychological science, Koole states:

“Our findings show that even touching an inanimate object — such as a teddy bear — can soothe existential fears. Interpersonal touch is such a powerful mechanism that even objects that simulate touch by another person may help to instill in people a sense of existential significance.”

What I did about it and you can too:

Existential concerns bothered me but by touching a stuffed toy I reduce ethnocentrism — a defensive reaction against death reminders.

6. Tap Therapeutics

Interestingly, they are as therapeutic as living animals. Rose M. Barlow of the Department of Psychology at Boise State University in Idaho inquired whether living animals are equally therapeutic as stuffed ones by surveying female college students with dissociative identity disorder (DID). She concluded women with high dissociation developed a stronger attachment to stuffed animals than live.

“Animals, live or stuffed, can aid therapy for both children and adults by providing a way to experience and express emotions, a feeling of unconditional support, and grounding,” Barlow expands in her research.

What I did about it and and you can too:

Several reasons do not allow me get a pet for myself, thus I go for a stuffed toy instead. To me it provides similar therapeutic benefits as research expounds above .

7. Purge Stress

Heard of several studies suggesting how animals like cats and dogs reduce cortisol — a stress hormone? Probably.

But you might not have heard how touching stuffed reduces your cortisol levels in the same way.

What I did about it and you can too:

I release exam stress and homesickness through the company of stuffed toys. Whenever stress alarms me, I just touch a soft animal.

Life made me taste several emotions. I liked some. Hated the rest.

To cope with mixed circumstances, I needed someone. Disagreeing with the notion that you have to handle all the adversity alone, I can state stuffed toys never left me all by myself.

Yes, Unlike people, stuffed toys will never leave you — a fact impossible to state for any human substitute.

Instead of judging and laughing at you, stuffed animals will always sit beside you, ever ready to get cuddled.

No complaints and no demands.

Remember, you’re not delusional if you love the comfort of stuffed animals.

If you have not yet experienced the soothing ability and emotional wellness these animals have to offer, try the magic of this tool yourself.

Society pressure creeping in?

Who deems this attachment as odd? Remember, they’re just a handful of unconcerned people. Who comment, not comfort.

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thedefinitionofbts · 7 years

Text

A Story that we paint (Epilogue)

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Epilogue

Pairings: Jeon Jungkook x Reader | Kim Taehyung x Reader

Genre: College Au, Future, Scifi, Slight Fluff and Angst

Words: 4K

Description: Butterfly Dream: In which the lines between virtual and reality are blurred.

A/N: My attempt at providing answers and avoiding an angsty ending.

You’re eyes slowly flutter open. The light in the room is bright and warm, and a sign on the wall reads “Butterfly Dream Facility”.

“She’s awake!” Jimin shouts. He swings his arms, signaling for someone to come over. They quickly rush to his side.

“Y/N?” You hear the familiar baritone voice utter your name. It takes a moment to sink in, but your vision starts to clear and you see the thrilled expressions of the two soothingly familiar faces crowded around you.

“Taehyung? Jimin?” You manage to murmur, barely able to lift yourself up from the bed.

“Whoa there, take it easy” Taehyung says, rushing to wrap his arm around your back and help support you into an upright position. “You’re muscles are weak from disuse.” He says. The warmth of his body saturates through your stale clothes as you lean back against his firm chest.

“W-what happened?” You question, trying to piece your fragmented memories together. There’s a sting by your temple in which you reach up to tend to the area, only to find that there was a probe attached to the spot you were about to message. “W-what the..?” You furrow your brows, not even remotely sure of what was going on.

You hear someone open the door to the room and walk in. The shuffling of busy people roaming through the hallways filters in but is soon cut off once the door clicks shut again. Turning your head towards the source of the noise, you see that it was Namjoon who had come in.

“You’re awake?” His mouth opens in surprise when he sees you sitting upright in the hospital bed leaning against Taehyung.

“She just woke up” Jimin says, turning to Namjoon then back at you with a heartwarming smile.

“How disoriented do you feel?” Namjoon inquires as he slowly walks closer to you.

“I have no idea what is going on” You reply rather frankly. “Seeing as though my muscles have atrophied, I’m assuming I was out for quite a while. How long exactly?”

“Almost a year…” Jimin whispers softly.

You feel the weight of his answer hit you like a sudden gust of strong wind. It certainly didn’t feel that long, but then again, you weren’t exactly expecting him to say a week. But a year? How is that possible? But more importantly, what had happened to cause you to go into a yearlong coma? You close your eyes, struggling to search for the answers that lay in the back of your mind. The blurry scenery from your dream races by. You were taking a class at a university, working on a semester-long project that entailed creating a virtual world.

“Do you know where you are now?” Namjoon’s voice interrupts your thoughts.

You open your eyes, pupils peering over to the sign that you saw upon first waking up. “According to that sign on the wall over there, I’m assuming this is the Butterfly Dream Facility.” You reply, shaking your head to clear your tangled thoughts. “Is this some sort of psychology clinic?”

“Essentially, yes” Namjoon says with a nod. “We just opened this place recently, but it was something we spent the last year pulling together.” He begins to explain a lot of things that you already knew, or better yet, still retained in your memory, like the fact that this clinic was opened with the help of the rest of your close-knit group of friends.

It wasn’t surprising at all, knowing that they got together and decided to open a psychological treatment facility, one that would combine the disciplines of computations neuroscience, biological engineering, and medicine. Namjoon and Yoongi had been studying cognitive and computation neuroscience since you met them back when you were still a sophomore in undergrad. Hoseok and Seokjin were soon-to-be engineers the last time you saw them, and Jimin and Taehyung were both aiming to get into medical school at the time.

You had all graduated from university a year ago, that you still remembered, but how and why you ended up lost in your dream, you could not seem to recall, not even vaguely.

“It was going to be an AI research lab, but after you fell into deep sleep, we all wanted to do what we could to help.” Namjoon responds.

“Deep sleep?” Something inside of you knew where this was going, but the question slipped past your lips anyways.

“Namjoon, she doesn’t remember, let’s not push it.” Jimin whispers a word of caution to the older male. Being the psychology major of the group, he knew of the mind’s erasing of certain painful memories. Jimin turns to you and places his hand gently on your shoulder. “It’ll slowly come back to you, but in the meantime, don’t force the memories to fit together. It might cause them to rearrange in the wrong way.” He advises.

“Are you hungry?” Taehyung suddenly says. “You’ve got to be. I’ll get you some food. I bet you miss Seokjin’s cooking, we even have a kitchen here just so he can cook for our patients.” He throws you a boxy grin, one that causes a burst of warmth to spread inside your chest. The sensation ignites a spark that makes you feel like you were forgetting something…someone very, very important.

“Jungkook” You whisper. “Where-“ You whip your head around to scan the room, eventually landing on the person lying on the next bed over. His eyes were still closed, and his breathing was still slowed. “Is he…?” You utter, staring at the chocolate haired boy still navigating the realm of dreams.

“Don’t worry, he’ll wake up in a couple of days” Namjoon reassures you.

You bite your bottom lip, trying to organize your thoughts, so you can make out the exact situation.

Butterfly Dream Facility. It has just now occurred to you why the name feels so familiar.

You gaze at his sleeping figure; gradually grasping the missing pieces of what you had forgotten. Those that shaped all of the things he was to you. Whether it was in the real world, in your dreams, or in the virtual world of your dreams, he has always played the same role; becoming the type of stability every one needs in their life, the hope that persists through the darkest of nights. You can only imagine how strong a person’s mind has to be to hang on to such a thin strip of thread while navigating such a convoluted maze without getting lost. And only now, were you beginning to understand the gravity of those words he had whispered to you before your eyes closed.

…

You were diagnosed with a rare genetic disordered when you were born, one that would cause you to enter dream-like states for indefinite amounts of time. The doctors had informed your parents that the illness was not deadly, and it was unlikely to prevent you from living a relatively normal life, that is, if you were cautious. Growing up, you had to take special medications to control your mood, as your risk of developing schizophrenia, depression, and a whole hoard of other mental illnesses was much higher than for most people. Struggling with the burden of the disease all throughout your life, you never believed there was actually someone out there who was one hundred percent willing to accept you for exactly who you were and go above and beyond to take care of you, promising to always be by your side, and ceaselessly proving to you that his feelings were honest and genuine.

You had met him back during freshman year, when school had just started and you didn’t know anyone on campus at the time. Shy and overly self-conscious of your disease you never imagined you would find a friend in the form of Jeon Jungkook so quickly and let alone so effortlessly. You were instantly charmed by his humorous personality and adorably innocent way of interacting with you. He was a computer science major, a nerdy gamer who wanted to project that same passion into his future career, and you were somehow lucky enough to be paired with him for lab on the very first day of Introduction to Programming.

He was someone who you never felt weary of trusting, despite a part of you telling yourself that such dumb decisions were the easy way to get your heart broken. But it was like the world was finally making up for cursing you with such a horrible disease from the get go because the precious gift that was Jeon Jungkook turned out to be even more special than you ever thought anything or anyone could be.

In the beginning, you had seriously contemplated hiding your disease from him, but being rather powerless over when your deep sleep cycles would hit, you fell asleep one time while the two of you were pulling an all-nighter to finish your project for class. It was only after you had woken up did you find out that Jungkook had rushed you to the hospital because he couldn’t get you to wake. Following that dreadful experience you didn’t have a choice but to reveal to him what you had concealed. The nerve-wracking moment of truth culminating in Jungkook pulling you into his arms and whispering a “thank god” in relief, an action that triggered the first sprouts of affection to be rooted in your soul.

You’ll never forget that day, just like you’ll never forget all the moments after that, where he spent every waking moment with you solidifying the beauty of his reality in your mind. Showing you the world through his eyes, teaching you how to find him no matter how elaborately your consciousness is intertwined, showing your subconscious mind how to recognize his love, and even writing “Butterfly”, the song that would ultimately hold that special place in your heart, so that wherever you go, wherever you happened to get lost, that soothing melody would bring you back to the boy who wouldn’t even stop to think twice before diving, head first, into dream world just to search for you.

So was it really all that surprising that Jungkook had done all of this for you?

No, it totally sounds like something the Jeon Jungkook you knew would do.

…

A day after Jungkook woke up, the eight of you decided to gathered at Yoongi’s place to clear everything out. It was mostly for the sake of you, because you had so many questions that were in dire need of answering that it was almost eating you alive. Especially after you acquired most of your memory back, and your dream was still fresh in the back of your mind.

“So will anyone care to explain why all of you showed up in my dream?” You ask, as everyone gathered on the couch in Yoongi’s living room.

Namjoon looks down and chuckles a little. “Now, that was intentional.”

“We weren’t sure what would trigger you to wake up. Thinking that maybe if we all showed up at some point, you’d start to realize the coincidence was too unlikely or remember we aren’t actually professors and a class called Virtual Universe 101 doesn’t actually exist.” Hoseok says as he plops down on the couch next to Yoongi.

“Couldn’t you have just told me I was dreaming and directly just get me to wake up that way? I mean, you guys designed a machine that allows people to enter other people’s dreams. There had to be a more straightforward way than doing what you did” You throw your thoughts out into the room, waiting for some to respond while, at the same time, still trying to register why and how everything ended up so complicated.

Namjoon was a genius, having already received his PhD in computational neuroscience, entering grad school right after graduation and publishing papers left and right. Yoongi, the star student who’s been studying cognitive science since undergrad, was also a well-known genius. Seokjin and Hoseok being electrical and mechanical engineers respectively were geniuses in their own right. Heck, all seven of them were gifted intellectuals having designed such an advanced piece of machinery, redefining the dynamic between the conscious and subconscious divisions of the human brain. It almost seemed too trivial to assume they overlooked the fact that they could have just wakened you up directly.

“Ok, correction.” Yoongi cuts in. “First of all, Jungkook was the only one who entered your dream.”

“What?” You whip your head around to face the others. “Then how…???”

“Entering someone else’s dream is probably one of the most dangerous things a person can do.” Seokjin explains. “Said person runs the risk of being trapped in a dream state along with the person he or she was trying to wake up.”

“So then Jungkook-“ You will yourself stop, not wanting to get too ahead of yourself by calling Jungkook out on such an idiotic and risky decision, especially not with all seven of your closest friends in the same room. You know why he did it, but it was ridiculous that he would take such a risk just to wake you up. You bite your lip, shaking your head, and making a mental note that you would address this topic the next time the two of you are alone, but there were more important questions that needed to be answered today. “Then how did I see all of you?” You ask instead.

“We recorded neurological signals from each of our brains into the Butterfly Dream system, thus cloning a piece of us into the characters that showed up in your dream.” Namjoon explains.

“Kind of like what Taehyung was in your virtual world within your dream.” Hoseok clarifies.

“So, the six of you, but not exactly…” You murmur the words, still unable to comprehend what that actually means. “Does that mean parts of you guys are still trapped in dream world?” You inquire, realizing how tragic that seems. Just like how Taehyung in the virtual world was a conscious person, those professors, dream world Jimin, and virtual Tae…they’re all real people…

“They aren’t trapped.” Jimin interrupts your thoughts. “They are actually…just embedded in your memory.” His cheeks flush ever so slightly, after voicing the last part.

“A.k.a, you have pieces of us in your brain” Taehyung laughs.

Your mouth is left slightly agape as your eyes gloss across everyone in the room who was trying to muffle a smile. “Ok, that’s creepy, but I’m going to hold off on that thought for now.” You comment, trying not to think about that hard to digest fact until you get all the answers your mind was craving at the moment. “So how did Jungkook and Taehyung become the same person but not really?” You proceed to inquire, raising your eyebrows and waiting for the answer that would explain how in the world that specific idea came about. Taehyung and Jimin have been dating since high school, but here Taehyung was, playing the role of your lover in your virtual world within a dream.

“Well, out of the 7 of us, those two are the most similar, so we figured it would work” Seokjin says, shrugging his shoulders. “And luckily, it did.”

Namjoon proceeds to add on to Seokjin’s comment. “Skipping all the complicated details, we had to put the main focus on the one person you had to be able to remember, i.e. Jungkook. Thus, he needed to be present in both layers of your dream, but at the same time he had to be something that was able to put a contrasting element in an otherwise blended background, and by making him and Taehyung essentially the same person, but not, seemed like the easiest thing to do.” Namjoon pauses to give Jungkook a signal to take over the explanation, since it was the younger male’s surprisingly brilliant idea to begin with.

Jungkook sits up straighter, turns to look at you, and clears his throat before speaking. “You see, if I was present in both your dream reality and your virtual dream, you run the risk of being unable to differentiate those two, which only worsens the problem. But by offsetting myself by a factor of the difference between me and Tae, which is the smallest out of the 7 of us, the line between dream reality and virtual dream stays in tact, albeit it got blurry at one point, but was evidently still present. In other words, you could differentiate the two by knowing that I’m only present in your dream reality and Taehyung is only present in the virtual dream.” Jungkook takes a deep breathe, before attempting to explain further. “The difference was made even smaller by combining a piece of my consciousness with Taehyung. So technically, the Taehyung in your virtual dream is pretty much me anyways, as dream world Yoongi had informed you.” He grins.

“Ok, stop for a second. Even I got confused with that explanation. How do you expect Y/N to understand what your saying?” Seokjin complains. He turns to you. “What Jungkook is trying to say is-”

“What Jungkook is trying to say is that he came up with the idea of creating a virtual world within the dream realm to bring you back to our reality.” Jimin finishes. Taehyung smiles and gives him a thumbs up.

“So after your brain realized Jungkook was the thread that was tying all three layers together, it was able to follow the path back to the first layer. Also note that all of this happened in your subconscious, which is why your conscious mind was unaware of it.” Namjoon says.

“Which answers your initial question of why we couldn’t just wake you up directly.” Yoongi adds. “We had to let your brain reorganize the separate pieces of information, re-learning how to split the layers between the dream, reality, and virtual worlds, in order to figure how to switch out of your dream layer without you consciously knowing, because your subconscious mind was the one trapping you in your dream to begin with.”

You’re left speechless after the extended explanation, and something told you that no matter how many questions you continued to ask or how much simpler they tried to explain this, it was obvious you didn't possess the ability to fully comprehend what happened. So you just nod and sigh, at least you weren’t thirsting for answers anymore.

“Oh and also, I’m just throwing this out there, but I think I should receive an award for my role” Taehyung says after a long pause.

“You barely did anything” Seokjin retorts. “You think my job was easy? Must I remind everyone that I was the one who designed all the circuits?”

“Yes, yes, Jin, you worked extremely hard.” Namjoon says while patting Seokjin’s back and trying to calm the older male down.

“Guys, you all did a great job, let’s not fight over who deserves the most credit and that kind of shit. The important thing is that Y/N is awake now, and we’ve successfully proved our new method of waking up comatose patients who are stuck in their dreams.” Yoongi says.

“I second that!” Hoseok shouts, raising his hand before awkwardly realizing no one else was following suite and slowly lowering it.

“Let’s not forget the person who came up with the whole thing” Namjoon looks over at Jungkook. “I’m proud of you kid.”

Jungkook smiles shyly. “I couldn’t have done it without you guys.”

“Awww, thanks Kookie” Hoseok coos, clutching his chest and showing that he was touched.

“We were all pretty shook when he came up with that idea” Seokjin comments, making everyone in the room burst into laughter.

…

That evening, you were back in the apartment that you and Jungkook had moved into junior year of college. It was like the memories are were still etched on the walls, filling every nook and cranny, and it’s so eerily similar to the one back in the virtual dream world when you were with Taehyung, but only now did you know why it had felt like Déjà vu back in the second layer of your dream. A scene that held an eerily strange tinge of foreignness before now feels as familiar as home because you knew exactly where you were and who the person you were with was, although it was technically him all along.

It was no wonder why you still managed to retained faint recollections of those long nights spent chatting under the covers and the look in Jungkook’s eyes as he laid in bed facing you, the outline of his body just faintly visible under the blanket, even in the deepest layers of your dream. It was something you knew, like the back of your hand, the same scene that had been replayed over and over in the real world.

“Jungkook?” You say as you lie in the spot next to him. At the sound of your voice, he shifts his body to face you, something he always did, whether it was in your dreams or the dreams of your dreams. “I can’t believe you were stupid enough to risk your life to save me.” You finally blurt out.

“Y/N, I told you-“ Jungkook begins, but you interrupt him because you knew exactly how he was going to respond to that statement.

“I know, I know, you will never leave me alone even when my mind has drifted off to the realm of dreaming”. You recite the phrase he had said to you in the past, now fully aware of the exact context, because you knew the person who said that to you was Jeon Jungkook, even when he was in the form of Kim Taehyung.

Jungkook laughs softly. “Remember when the Taehyung in the virtual world told you he missed you?”

You take a moment to recall the memory. “Yeah…?” You murmur quietly.

“And then he told you he loved you?”

“Yeah”

“That was a message from me.” Jungkook smiles, and you swear his eyes sparkle like the light of all the stars in the multiverse.

There’s a long drawn out pause, as you take a moment to let his words sink in. “How were you able to not get lost?” You hesitantly question, knowing perfectly well that what he did was unimaginably difficult and that you would probably never be able to do the same for him if your roles were switched. A fact that made you feel weak, and undeserving of his love, but of course Jungkook never agreed with you on that.

You lift your gaze, and it settle on his glossy doe-like pupils, waiting, but he takes his time to stare into your eyes, before speaking.

“Like I said, I’ll always be able to find you. No matter what.”

“But Jungkook, what if…” You wanted to ask what if you fell into an unawake-able slumber, what if nothing he did could wake you up? But you were too afraid to put it out in the open because it was something you never wanted to think about, a thought you always kept buried just so you wouldn’t have to address such terrifying possibilities.

Jungkook pulls you in closer, so close that your cheeks are pressed up against his firm chest and you can smell the scent of his citrus body wash mixed with faint wafts of his natural body fragrance, an aroma that never failed to calm your panicky nerves. His arms feel sturdy, providing a robust sense of safety that you had forgotten you had missed so badly, and his musical voice is pacifyingly smooth.

“If it just so happens that you don’t wake up. I’ll gladly join you in your dream.”

...

#bts fanfic #bangtan bookclub #btswriters #armiesnet #taeguknetwork #jungkook fanfic #taehyung fanfic #jungkook x reader #taehyung x reader #bts scenarios #scifi au

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