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taestefully-in-luv · 3 years

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The Island | KTH (One)

Summary: You’re just two strangers waking up in a room on a lonely island where a company in the business of love has placed you. They believe that thanks to their in depth research you two are destined soulmates. What happens when your ‘soulmate’ and you want nothing to do with each other but falling in love is the only way to leave?

Pairing: Taehyung x Female reader

Genre: strangers to lovers, slight enemies to lovers, soulmates au, roommate au, slow burn, fluff, smut, angst, slight crack, and drama.

Word Count: 9.3k

Warnings: swearing

Notes: Alright here is the first ch to my new story! I am super nervous to post this because it is a completely different vibe. But I hope you guys enjoy! Don’t worry, it turns fluffier later:) let me know if you want to be added to the taglist, or send an ask if just want to chat!:)

Taglist: @ggukkieland @monvieesdaebak @707sblog @peacedreamer14

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Your room is blinding from the soft yet striking sunrise, each beam of light swims through the blinds in piercing waves. The intense glow hits you in your sleepy state, causing you to wake from your glorious slumber. Too bright. You sit up in your bed, attempting to rub away the sleep that crusts your eyes. You begin to slowly open one lid at a time, taking in the neat appearance of your room. Your room looks the same as always—there is a nightstand next to your wooden framed bed, it holds a pale lamp and a photo of mountainous scenery. A dresser sits comfortably in front of you, it is dressed in simple décor and a large mirror. Yup, the same as always. You glance over to your sheer curtained window where the sun very offendedly washes over the room—wait. Hold on a god damn second.

Quickly, you begin to open your eyes just a bit wider—where is your royal purple ottoman? The art that hangs on your walls? Your dresser is brown not black for Christ’s sake! You ball your hand in the sheets…these don’t even feel like your sheets, yours aren’t this silky. This is not your room. Your eyebrows climb to the top of your forehead as you jerk your head around. Where the hell are you? Suddenly, you feel something rustle against your side. No…not something—someone.

Your eyes dart to the right of you, where this someone moves against the sheets. Not just someone. A man. His dark, ruffled hair sticks out between the sheets and pillow below his head. Why is there a man in bed with you? Is it…his bed? Oh god. Immediately, your mind tries to recall the night before. Did you go out and drink too much? Go home with a rando? Super unlike you though. You pull your hair as your mind races.

Sitting up in bed, worry crosses all of your features. You try to face all the possibilities that could maybe end up being your reality. But going out and partying is nowhere in your memories. You begin gnawing on your bottom lip, knowing you stayed home last night. And that you fell asleep in your own bed…alone, you might add. So where the hell are you? And why is there another person? Fear enters the picture now, this is the last place you wanted to go. You know, that horrible, terrible, dark place? The one that says your reality is that some creepy man kidnapped you and plans on doing murder-y type things to you. Yup, that place.

You tug on the end of your hair again, you know, you know, a bad habit. But you can’t help it as anxiety grows deeper within you. Were you really kidnapped? Fuck. You have to think. You’re trying to, at least. But breathing is becoming a chore. Your breaths are quick and sharp like you are on the brink of a panic attack. Shit, maybe you are. You try to eye the room again, taking in its appearance more carefully. You can’t help the shiver that speeds down your spine when you notice how perfect this single bedroom is…it actually almost resembles your guest bedroom at home. Which is creepy in itself. You continue to eye the room curiously, while staying absolutely frozen.

The dresser has more photos of pretty scenery sitting on top, as well as a few small vases that complement the rest of the décor. Anxiety continues to grow within you, shaking you to the core. You hate the way your hands tremble in your lap. You want to do something. You truly do but fuck, you can’t even move a muscle. Your breathing begins to pick up even more. Where are you? Why are you here? Who is this man sleeping so fucking peacefully next to you? Your thoughts are going 100 miles per minute, screaming at you, taunting you, giving you the middle finger.

Before you can think through your many obvious questions and answer them, the man next to you begins to stir in his sleep. You watch with wide eyes as he slowly moves to his back from his side. You stare down at him, too scared to move. Too scared to scream bloody murder. Too scared to do anything. And nothing disappoints you more. That you are nothing but a coward. You look down at your future murderer and wait for him to wake.

Future murderer slowly opens his eyes but he shies away instantly from the beaming sunlight.

“Ahhhh.” He lets go in one long breath, rubbing at his eyes in a sleepy manner. You sit still, your own breath caught in your throat. You want to move but fear has you frozen like an evening in the arctic. The man, or Future Murderer as you seemed to have named him, begins sitting up, stretching his arms out above him and yawns a song of sleep. He finally opens his eyes fully and soaks in the room before him. His head moves around quickly, his expression becoming rather…confused.

“What the fuck?”

Yup, those are his first words. Should have been yours too, if you’re being honest. This guy gets it.

Future Murderer’s facial expression grows bewildered as he looks around the room and when he finally feels your presence, he turns his head your way.

“Uh…” the Murderer narrows his eyes at you, “Hi?”

You don’t even realize the sigh of relief that pushes past your lips, but his confusion seems…genuine. And this allows you to relax your shoulders a little bit. Maybe he is a victim to whatever is going on too? You take in his disheveled appearance; he has brown wavy hair that rests above his brow line, eyes darker than the deepest part of the sea and full pouting lips. You would totally admit he’s attractive as hell but considering the fact you’re trying to convince yourself he isn’t going to murder you and the state you’re in, you’re going to push that thought away.

“Uh, who are you?” His brows knit together as he expectantly waits for an answer.

“No, who are you?” You squint at him. How dare he ask like you aren’t the one totally frazzled here? But somehow it’s comforting that he seems as confused as you are. Mystery man (his new name, since he doesn’t appear to want to murder you) (maybe) raises a single brow at you before answering,

“Taehyung.”

You listen to his name roll off his tongue and absorb it. Taehyung, huh? You hesitate for a second before finally giving your own name.

“y/n.”

Taehyung then, has the audacity to pinch his nose in annoyance. To be fair, it looks like the one he’s annoyed with is himself and not you.

“Look, sorry…” he begins, “If we hooked up last night, I don’t really remember and I—"

Your eyes widen at his words and you begin to frantically shake your head,

“No! We didn’t—we didn’t…”

“Oh?” Taehyung gives you a curious look then has the audacity to scoot several inches away from you. Then you feel his eyes on you, they search you from head to toe. You’re wearing your cat printed PJ shorts and a simple purple t shirt. You admit your hair is probably pretty wild, so you card your fingers through your locks. You start to feel insecure under his gaze as he so shamelessly eyes you.

“I don’t know who you are or where I am…do you know where we are?” you question, looking off to the side.

Taehyung pulls his eyes away from you, his head moving around to look around the room, his arms flailing.

“Does it look like I know where I am?”

You only blink at him and he rolls his eyes, “No, I don’t.” he admits.

Moments of silence pass between the two of you. You don’t know what to say at this point even though you have a million things you would like to say. But you can’t form one, coherent sentence apparently. You don’t know anything. You’re fucking clueless and you hate it. You’re trying to gather your thoughts when you feel Taehyung rise from the bed, startling you like he just committed a crime. God, you are such a coward. What? Do you really think the bed is apparently some super safe place that will protect you from the evils of the world? Taehyung walks toward the dresser and other corners of the room, inspecting it carefully.

“Fucking weird, but nice room, right?” he asks under his breath. Taehyung throws a glance over at you. “You don’t know where you are…I don’t know where I am…we both wake up in a strange room and neither of us have any recollection of how we got here.” Taehyung takes a pause to gather his thoughts. “Have you heard anything? You know, from outside the room? There could be other people.” He waits for you to answer but you stay quiet. Yes, you are on that level of coward.

You stay in the bed, anxiety building up, growing fiercer by the second. While it seems Taehyung’s attention is being stolen by the large window where the sun invites him to come take a peak. He tip toes over to the window, lifting the blinds and exposes something you imagine takes his breath way due to his audible gasp.

“Where…the fuck are we?” he asks breathlessly.

Instead of looking for yourself, you stay seated. But are we surprised? You study Taehyung’s expressions, watching for his reactions. His face falls into one of awe but after only a few moments in settles back into confusion. He reaches for the bottom of the window sill and lifts upwards, opening the window and releasing the sound of…is that waves? You continue to observe him, too afraid to see for yourself. He stands there for several long moments before turning your way and he clears his throat.

“I—I don’t…I don’t know where we are, like, really.” He takes a hesitant step towards the bed. “But something tells me neither of us are from here.”

You need a minute. Yeah, you need a minute to process his words. Because what the fuck does he mean by that? You aren’t ‘from here’? Are you on another planet or some shit? This man needs to work on his wording, for Christ’s sake. You feel your hand move just the slightest. Then your other hand. Your toes curl in and out. Seems you aren’t so frozen anymore. Things are, yes things as in waking up with a total stranger and him saying you are in an unknown place, are starting to wake you up. You’re so ashamed your solution to all of this was to stay seated in bed…but for some reason a rushing sensation of bravery washes over you.

You rise from the sheets and step one foot on to the floor. It’s not lava. So you step down with both feet and make your way over to Taehyung. You stop in front of him, tilting your head up since he has several inches over you—but nothing too intimidating, you decide. His eyes find yours and you lock eyes for a few moments. Both of you trying to search the other for answers. You break contact to face the window and wow. Your eyes animatedly widen at the sight. Palm trees and water for miles and miles it seems. No other buildings or sign of life. An island? But not the kind of island where this room is a part of some fancy resort, no, not that kind. Instead the kind where a plane crashes and a group of people have to survive.

You blink down at your new reality. First of all, you live nowhere near an island, so there’s that. You feel the anxiety and frustrations begin to surface again and you can’t help that your eyes begin to gloss over. You snap your head back to get a look at your fellow victim and he looks just as lost as you feel.

“We need to find out what’s going on.” Taehyung takes a deep breath, lifting his head up. He locks his eyes with yours again but you break contact to look at your feet.

“We don’t know anything…would if it’s not safe?” you quietly try to reason.

“Exactly, we don’t know anything and that’s a problem. You don’t expect us to stay in this room forever, do you?”

He has a point and you know it. You want to follow him out of this room but your feet seem to be glued to the floor.

“Well, no. But—”

“Didn’t think so.” He turns away from you, his body shuffling towards the bedrooms door but before he can become out of reach your hand flies to his shirt sleeve, tugging it softly.

“Wait! Just hold on—” Your voice wavers and Taehyung rolls his eyes. Rolls his fucking eyes at you!

“Listen, come. Or don’t. I don’t really care.” Taehyung releases your hold on his shirt, unsticking your fingers and throwing your hand towards your body. “Decide.” He states before swiftly turning around to head towards the door.

Oh. So this guy is a fucking asshole. Noted.

You end up following him because although he was rude about it, feeling someone’s touch when you feel so scared was slightly comforting and yes, you are aware of how fucking pathetic that is.

Taehyung stands in front of the door, his hand reaching for the knob when he turns his head to say, “Just trust me.”

And now you are the one rolling your eyes. Trust him? You just met the dude! 10 minutes ago his name was Future Murderer. How could you possibly trust this asshole?

“How can I trust you? I literally just met you.” The scowl on your face deepens when he smirks.

“Are you always such a fucking baby?”

“Are you always such a fucking baby?” you mock, eyes rolling so far into the back of your head. Okay, you admit you aren’t being the most mature here. But Taehyung doesn’t seem to take offense to it by the way he gasps and throws a hand over his heart as if wounded.

“Oh? She’s got some sass?” His question and raised brows only piss you off.

“Whatever. Let’s go.” You aren’t entirely sure where the confidence comes from but you don’t question it. You’re breezing past him, your shoulder knocking into his as you approach the door.

You feel Taehyung’s eyes on you and hear him mumble a lame, ‘that’s the spirit’ from behind you. And with that, in one swift action you are opening the door.

You stand in the open doorway, once again frozen in place. Not feeling as confident as you were 15 second ago—maybe you just need this dude to piss you off again. Speak of the devil, Taehyung steps besides you, poking his head out into the hallway searching for any sign of life.

“It’s quiet.” He takes a few steps forward, now in the middle of the hall. You glance around, the hallway has walls full of beautiful artwork, and to the right is 3 doors and to the left is a wide staircase. An exit. Bingo.

“Let’s check each room.” And of course he wants to do the opposite.

“No, let’s just get out of here.”

You turn on your feet towards the stairs and stop at the first step and raise a brow over your shoulder, “Aren’t you coming?”

Taehyung looks conflicted to say the least. He exhales deeply, looking between you and the 3 doors.

“Shouldn’t we just—”

“No! come on…” You must sound pleading and convincing because you can see him falter, just a bit. “I just want to go home…” You say, averting his gaze. Taehyung only stares at you for what feels like an eternity before he’s finally agreeing with the nod of his head.

The two of you very cautiously step down the stairs, each foot that follows the other slightly trembles in the fear of the unknown. You two finally reach the bottom and your eyes go wide at the sight. This is basically your fucking dream house. The floor plan is very open. At the center is a gorgeous grand piano, you don’t play but it’s aesthetically pleasing you guess? To the right is a long table with picture frames and décor and down the hall there seems to be more rooms.

You scan the downstairs as you slide your fingers along the edge of this table and stop when you come across a framed photo. What the actual fuck. Your eyebrows rise and your eyes grow twice their size. You very hesitantly pick up the picture as your eyes blink down at the frame in hand when your breathing begins to pick up again. It’s a framed photo of you and your sister . Now why the hell would this be here? Why is there a picture of you and your sister?? Why would someone have this? The framed photo sits in your trembling hands as you stare down at it. Taehyung notices your shaky grip on this picture and takes it from you to take a look himself. His eyes also go wide…you look between him and the picture.

“Why…why the hell is this here?” your voice betrays you as it shakes with every word.

Taehyung glances down at the table and notices his own photos with friends and family that are disgustingly and proudly displayed.

“What the actual fuck?” Taehyung whispers to no one but himself. What the hell is going on? Why does this house have pictures of the two of you? Who is doing this? Is this some sort of sick joke?

“What’s happening Taehyung?” you step closer to him feeling entirely…creeped out.

“Does it look like I fucking know?” he snaps. He sees you flinch and his eyes soften, “Sorry…Its just… this is going too far.” He finally looks as disturbed as you feel. The two of you stay quiet for a few moments, neither of you knowing how to react to this eerie discovery.

You shudder at how ominous this all is. This is becoming way too much. How much more of this can you handle? You almost want to jump into this assholes arms and sob into his navy blue t shirt.

“We should…” Taehyung wipes his sweaty hands on his sweats, “keep going.”

The two of you nod your heads in unison and turn to your left where there is an entry way to the kitchen and living room. Taehyung stops before stepping through while you join him at his side. You two glance around to soak in your surroundings—it’s also an open space, the two open areas sharing a space. The kitchen is covered in black granite and wooden cabinets with a door that probably leads outside. The living room has two matching sofas, a wide screen TV that hangs on the wall over a fireplace and built in shelves on either side, full of books, movies and games.

Taehyung and you share a look before walking through to the kitchen and living room. You approach the rooms slowly and carefully, afraid of what you might find. What surprises could be lurking. Suddenly the white glow of the TV can be seen, making you jump with its sudden brightness. Why the hell did the TV just turn on? Is this like, a haunted house? Are you being fucking haunted? Okay, maybe that’s dramatic.

The screen is bright white with nothing else on it. You turn to face Taehyung who is already staring at you with brows pinched together in confusion. Same Taehyung, same. The two of you decide to walk closer to the TV when dark, bold numbers appear.

“10….9…8…..”

The sound of soft music can be heard playing from the TV, similar to the music that’s played in an elevator, as numbers counting down from 10 begins. You feel your insides twist and turn.

“….7….6…..”

Panicked, the two of you inch closer and closer. You two stand here waiting for something, anything to occur because these might be the longest 10 seconds of your life. The millions of questions you have only multiplying. With the seconds counting down and getting closer to zero, your breathing about fucking stops. What is going to happen? You can feel your palms grow sweaty as your heart beats out of your chest. It feels like the countdown to the end of the world.

“….5….4….3…”

You don’t think Taehyung realizes just how close he is to you, his shoulders bumping into yours. You guess fear does funny things even between strangers.

“….2…..1…….”

And then it finally happens. The timer finally reaches fucking zero. And it is safe to safe your attention has been caught…anyone’s would be if a screen greets them with their god damn names.

“Welcome Kim Taehyung and Y/N Y/LN”

Your names on the screen has you automatically feeling nauseas. What sort of sick game is this? Is someone setting you up? Pranking you? If so, shits not funny. But also, why is Taehyung here? Your eyes focus on the screen as it moves to the next slide.

“It is a great honor that you two have made it this far. You have been carefully selected in this company’s project. After a lot of consideration and impressive results—we have decided to move you to the next phase.”

Naturally, very naturally you become even more confused than you fucking started. What projects? What company? You can hear Taehyung swallow hard, his nerves spiking with each word he reads. Then the slides continue.

“To put it simply, we are in the business of love.”

Huh? Huh?

Taehyung and you break your focus on the screen to steal a glance as one another very briefly before turning your heads back to the TV. What the hell they mean love? What is this absolute nonsense?

“Our use of science, technology and logic has got us here today. We test and heavily observe our chosen subjects and decide if they are the perfect match. We then move them to the final phase: The Island. This is where the two subjects meet and get along for the first time. The place they will undoubtedly fall in love.”

You can’t help that your mouth falls open, you are sure your eyes are bulging out of your head. You dare to turn to look at Taehyung and he isn’t looking much better.

Before you can really gather any thoughts the slides continue.

“Our success rate is 99%. You WILL fall in love here, it is most probable. Other subjects will come to fall in love quickly, other will take their time. BUT don’t take too long~ If two subjects are taking too long to make progress we will send a ‘Request’ to move things along and if you fail to meet said request there will be a penalty. And you have 24 hours to complete the request. This is to help you.”

You shiver while reading the words before you. You are now too anxious to even look at Taehyung right now…you don’t want to even see his reaction to all of this. Is he anxious like you? Is he laughing because there’s no way this is real? Is he nodding along taking notes because he believes it? You don’t want to fucking know!

“We give soulmates the opportunity to meet and thrive. This particular project has been in the works for well over a year.”

You blink lazily at that. Well over a year? WELL OVER A YEAR? They’ve been watching you for over a year?!

“We have carefully observed each one of you in great detail. There is nothing we don’t know. We have matched you two to be most compatible.”

Nothing they don’t know? What the hell does that mean? How exactly did they fucking observe you two? You stand here with eyes wide open and mouth agape. Taehyung mirrors your expression. He doesn’t want to believe this either.

“And you two are finally ready to proceed with The Island.”

The two of you stand in the living room, dumbstruck. Absolutely dumbstruck. You aren’t even able to look at one another for more than a hot second. A harsh blush creeping on your face and you cringe because there’s no way you could blush for this asshole.

You just…you cannot believe any of this. You refuse to. This is ridiculous. Insane.

“This island is only for the two of you. Designed specifically for you. You are being constantly monitored. Hidden cameras are placed all around the house. Minus the bedrooms and bathrooms. The décor and food is to each of your likings, we want you to feel at home as possible. Everything including books, movies, games and rooms are to your likings and match your hobbies.”

Wait a minute. You frantically shake your head, blinking furiously. Constantly being monitored? AKA you’re being fucked spied on? How are you supposed to do anything knowing you’re being watched?

“Your families have already been notified of your absence.”

You feel your heart drop. You didn’t even consider how they might feel.

“You will return safely once we feel we are satisfied with the results. This can be 3 months, 6 months, a year or even more.”

You feel Taehyung spin to face you in complete shock.

“We understand this may seem awkward at first but things will evolve naturally. So you should not worry.”

These words do not bring the least bit of comfort.

“Besides the ‘Requests’ we will not interfere. This is YOUR time to fall in love.”

“Thank you so much for your ongoing participation and please enjoy your new home and of course, each other. <3”

The added heart at the end of the last slide has both of you scrunching your faces in disgust. With that, the TV shuts off, showing nothing but the dark black screen and the reflection of two ghosts. What. The. Fuck.

You’re sure your expression is as clear as day; a mix between anger and hopelessness. You don’t want to look at Taehyung, not after everything you just read but you know you should. So you tip your head to the side to get a good look at him. Worry. All you see is worry. Look, he might be hot as hell but there ain’t no way you can fall in love with this dude. But also, you don’t know anything. You gulp, there is one thing you know. You’re going to be sick.

Your nausea is so built up, it’s at the entrance of your throat begging for release. You stand here, running a clammy hand through your hair. You are going to puke, you know it.

Without any further thinking, you run towards the back door in the kitchen that thankfully leads to outside. You run down a path that you pray to the God’s that this path does lead to the ocean so you can drown yourself in some good ol’ waves. Your anxiety has you out of breath before the run does. You finally reach sand that is warm and grainy under your bare feet and follow it to the shore.

It’s beautiful actually. The view. You wish you could really take it all in and let the calmness of the waves relax you but you are seconds away from upchucking last night’s pizza rolls. But it never comes. Your guts never make it out of your body but the anxiety remains. Falling to the ground, you pull your knees into your chest, trying to breathe and most importantly trying not to cry. This is no use though and to be honest you don’t try very hard because tears are cascading down your face within seconds. You can feel the burning in your chest as hot tears fall onto the warmth of your cheeks and it breaks you further. You sit here and wonder if you are really stuck here in this place and with a complete and total stranger. The same thought stays with you as you ball into yourself.

You sit here, indulging in quiet sobs until they finally ease into soft sniffles. You reach up to wipe your eyes, ridding yourself of tears and the thoughts that came along with them. You need to think more clearly. Okay, positive thoughts. Come on y/n, you can do this. Positive thoughts. First off, you’re not alone. You are not the only victim here. You have an acquaintance here who you are sure isn’t very pleased about this either. But wait—would if this guy is a total weirdo? A psycho? Okay, maybe being positive is harder than you thought. Plus he was a total asshole to you earlier. But maybe that will change?

You stand to your feet, feeling more determined than before. You are going to try to make the best out of this shitty situation. You brush away the annoying leftover grains of sand from your legs and your behind and turn around to make your journey back to the house, your ‘home’. Ew, you did not just call it that, you shudder at the thought. Before you start walking, you spot Taehyung aka your ‘soulmate’ ew, you did not just him call him that— sitting, leaning against a tree. Yup, right next to where you just had snot running down your nose. Before spiraling into embarrassment, you take a good look at him and oh. You step towards him and his eyes follow your movements until you are seated next to him. He’s tense, that’s for sure. But you can’t really blame him, now can you? You are a little bit selfish, aren’t you? He is clearly freaking out too yet you ran out on him. You can see his expressions now: confused, anger, upset. And something you can’t quite figure out.

Taehyung looks your way and offers you a small, tense smile and then turns his head away from you to face the ocean again, a sigh escaping his lips.

“I’m not going to fall in love with you.”

You really don’t want to feel offended because hey, that’s fair. But still, this asshole doesn’t even know you so you roll your eyes.

“I’m not going to fall in love with you dude.”

Taehyung glances at you and gives you a look, like he knows that’s impossible.

“Sure.” He says.

“You don’t fall in love with me.” You snap back, feeling like you won something.

“Yeah, that won’t be a problem.” He deadpans.

“Listen…you’re not a psycho, are you?” You narrow your eyes at him. Taehyung stares at you for a second before he dramatically rolls his eyes at you, then he narrows his own eyes.

“I’m not a psycho,” he defends, a serious expression drawn on his face. “But how do I know you’re not?”

You bite down on your lip as if really contemplating,

“Fair point.” You smile cheekily but then your face falls into a frown. “This isn’t…real, right?” you try to brush back your hair behind your ear but the wind makes it difficult. “The TV…this is a joke, right?”

Taehyung looks on towards the ocean, the big blue waves crashing in the distance. He is silent for several long, annoyingly long moments. You can’t help but wonder what goes inside his head, what is he thinking? What is he feeling? It’s got to be similar to you, right?

“Let’s say it is real. There’s a company who…who…spied on us for a year. What does that mean? They hacked our phones? Hacked our homes? How far did they go? They said they know everything…” Taehyung pauses, flinching at his own words. “So, say they do. They believe after all their research we make a good match…the perfect match, apparently.”

“Yeah, I highly doubt that.” You cut in. “We couldn’t even get along in the first 10 minutes—”

“That’s because you were being a baby.”

“That’s because you were being a—Shut up.” You huff.

“Who’s being rude now?” Taehyung smirks. “Listen, I think it’s best if we just play it safe. But I am serious…I won’t be falling in love with you. And I am not a psycho.”

“And I am serious too, I won’t.” you remind him, annoyed. “It’s you who should be careful.” You poke your tongue out and Taehyung rolls his eyes.

“So do you like pancakes? Mister Not Psycho.” You look at him with a playful smirk and he wastes no time to curve his lips downwards.

“Pancakes?” he lifts his brows but then a scowl takes over, “I’m not falling in love with you even if you make me pancakes. I still can’t get over this…they spied on us for a year y/n. Invaded our privacy…this is too much. Too much to be thinking about god damn pancakes”

“Yeah but it seems like we’re stuck together,” you reason, “Whether we like it or not. So you can maybe try not to be such an asshole to me? When I’m just as much of a victim as you are. And we still have to eat.”

Taehyung’s mouth drops a little, then he closes it, screwing his eyes shut. “You’re right…I’m sorry,” he stands to his feet. “This is all just so crazy and a lot to take in…”

“I know…” you pause, “It’s sort of like being on a vacation—”

“Just stop.”

Taehyung walks past you, heading back inside the house. Leaving you alone with nothing but the ocean.

You stare off into the wide unknown, the oceans blue emptiness swallowing you whole. This looks like a dream vacation spot, if you’re being honest. But this? This was about to be the vacation from Hell.

~~~~~~~~

You and Taehyung walk through the door back into the kitchen, a look of grimace on his face while you frown. You two decide to check out what this place has to offer. You’re both clearly skeptical of this whole entire situation, well at least he is. He feels like the only one who is acting appropriately. But he can safely assume you probably are feeling a bit skeptical yourself. You two check to see is there is anything safe to eat—if there even is food. He doesn’t know what to believe. Was this situation, he doesn’t know…real? True? Every word he read, is a loud echo in his mind screaming at him. How could he even take this seriously? How could you take this seriously? This is fucking insane! He looks over at you, who is rummaging through cabinets, you look the same as a few minutes ago—calm with an unsure expression painting your features. He hates how calm you look, he can’t help but feel so annoyed by you.

He takes a look in the large, silver fridge and is pleasantly surprised to see many foods that he likes; lots of fresh fruits, juices, milk, sandwich meats, so on. It is fully stocked. He reaches inside the fridge for a bowl a fresh fruit, his other hand grabbing for a can of whipped cream. He gives you a look and nods towards the bowl.

“Should we test them? See if we die from poison or some shit?” he half jokes, his bitter tone shining through. You try to ignore his bad attitude and smile.

“We’re testing them with a can of whipped cream?” you go for a lighter approach but he just rolls his eyes.

“Go big or go home, am I right ladies?”

You snort. Real life snort. And you consider being embarrassed but you see Taehyung’s eyes light up in amusement before they’re darkening again.

You reach for a strawberry and pop that thang in your mouth, so he does the same. You two chew cautiously, the flavor and juices bursting. These might be the best god damn strawberries either of you have ever had. Such a shame they are being enjoyed in such a situation. He turns to face you, the you who is now stuffing your face with strawberry after strawberry, he can’t help but let a chuckle slip between his lips.

“What? Go big or go home…” you pause, a smirk playing at your lips. “Right ladies?” Taehyung only rolls his eyes at your smart mouth, he won’t allow himself to laugh.

Taehyung is still trying to gather his impression of you. When you first met you were a total cry baby, then you were just annoying and now you’re trying your best to be calm. He recalls how you ugly cried just outside—god, you have been a roller coaster of a person but considering your situation he understands why.

He believes he was more unbothered and brave after having first woken up…but after seeing those framed photos he got freaked the fuck out, to put it simply. Then the TV…everything just went downhill from there. And he sees what you’re doing…you’re trying to be strong. And he hates you for it. Why is he being the weak one here? How are you doing it with such ease? He’s spiraling. His whole life just got put on pause. His dreams and aspirations? Pause. Friends and family? Pause. His love life? P-Pause? He can’t help but worry over every detail, not to mention…is any of this the truth? Are you two just supposed to believe the god forsaken words that you read on the TV screen? And you went on about this being like a damn vacation. Unbelievable! But all he can do right now is breathe in and breathe out and try to be himself. Which at the moment is a really unhappy person.

You and Taehyung continue reaching into the bowl for more refreshing fruit, your fingers brushing against one another like this is a god damn Hallmark movie, but you don’t seem to be fazed by it so he won’t either. Even though it’s driving him crazy, he doesn’t want to touch you. He wonders what your thoughts are on the whole ‘love’ thing? It’s ridiculous. Don’t get him wrong, in a different situation he could see himself getting along with someone like you, maybe even hook up…but fall in love? Not likely. Plus he already has someone. Sort of.

“Ah, wait…” He pauses mid bite.

“Hm?” you hum, mouth full.

“Aren’t we like, supposed to be finding pancake mix or whatever shit you wanted to find?”

With a roll of your eyes, you lick your fingers clean while the other hand lays rest on you hip. (And no, his eyes did not linger when you sucked on your fingers and no, they did not travel down to your hand that rest comfortably on your nice hips.)(And no, he did not just think your hips are nice.)

“Couldn’t find any!” you dramatically yell out, “You guys FAILED us!” you then look over at him with a smirk, “So much for being experts right?” you scoff, he almost wants to laugh at your dramatics but he just stares at you blankly.

But soon that blank stare is changing into a sour one when he realizes just who you are talking to…the very company that trapped you here. The one that’s watching over you right now. Or so they say.

“We should inspect the whole house.” He says seriously, “You know, get to know this ‘vacation home’ or whatever bullshit you said.”

You look down at your feet, feeling fucking embarrassed.

“Sorry for calling it that I—”

“I know,” Taehyung kind of smiles, “You were just trying to make us feel better. I get it.” His tone is softer than even he intended.

“It didn’t really help, did it?” you scratch the top of your head, feeling sheepish.

“Not really.” He answers honestly, with hard eyes. “Now come on, let’s check things out.”

You nod your head with an eye roll, he still chooses to be dickish.

The two of you walk into the living room to the entertainment center. The TV is surrounded by shelves of books, movies, and games. Apparently all to your liking, so you guess you will see how true that is.

“Woah, there’s Mortal Kombat. Sweet.” You comment, the game case in your hand.

“Woah, I can kick your ass at Mortal Kombat. Sweet.” Taehyung plainly responds while shuffling other games between his hands.

“Don’t even. I will play you right now.” You try lightening the mood but he just rolls his eyes.

“We have other important things to do, need I remind you?” he begins lecturing you and you scoff.

“You don’t need to remind me our shitty situation. Your stupid face is reminder enough.” You bite.

“Oh?” Taehyung continues to look through cases, barely paying attention to you.

“Anyway,” you clear your throat. “There’s tons of movies here and TV shows as well,” you gesture toward the bottom of the shelf. “Some I have never seen before,” you squat down, your fingers brushing against DVD cases until you stop at one in particular, pulling it out. “Like, what the hell is ‘Castaway on the Moon’?”

Taehyung’s eyes widen, “UH, only my most favorite movie ever?” he says, taking the case from you.

“Looks weird.” You comment plainly.

“Weird—it’s not weird! It’s actually really good I swear, actually you know what?” Taehyung huffs out, it’s the first time you’re seeing him get so worked up. It’s amusing. “I don’t have to explain myself to you.” He pouts, clearly wounded you would think to call his favorite movie ‘weird’.

“Plus, who’s weird?” he asks, “What’s with all this anime? I know it ain’t mine.”

You jut out your bottom lip in guilt, your cheeks turning a rosy pink.

“Well, well…”

“Well, well…” he mocks, feeling satisfied.

You raise your eyes to meet his and walk an inch towards him, never breaking contact.

“I’ll give yours a shot, if you give mine a shot?” you challenge, sticking out your hand. He guesses you want him to shake it.

He takes a moment to let his eyes linger on yours. They’re dark. Plain. Boring. Nothing special. He looks away and scoffs but the idea of sharing his favorite movie with someone does pique his interest.

“Deal.” He says, going in for the handshake. He feels your hand in his and doesn’t expect your skin to be so soft.

“Deal.” You say with an evil glint in your eye. “I’m going to make you watch so much good shit.” You continue to hold on to his hand, you look down at them and become slightly shy. You just remembered your situation. You keep staring for an odd amount of time before you drop his hand and shake your head.

“Should we check out the other rooms?” you start walking towards the entry way back into the main area of the house, but stop to turn and look at him.

“Yeah, I suppose we can do that.” He answers back, trying to sound as neutral as possible.

The two of you walk back into the main area where the rooms are located. He hesitantly creaks open the first door. He’s met with a room so fitting. A room full of art supplies. Drawing boards, brushes, paint, etc. He feels his palms pool with sweat.

“Do you make art?” you question, looking up at him.

“Yeah.” He gulps, feeling creeped out all over again. “They really did their research, huh?” he whispers to himself.

You two stand in the doorway, taking it all in. Taking in what this could really mean for you two. It begs the question: Were they really spying on you for over a year? Do they really know everything there is to know about you two?

You softly nudge Taehyung, “Why don’t we move on to the next room?” you suggest. He turns his head to face you as he swallows hard, nodding his head in agreement.

The next room is nothing spectacular, just a home gym.

“You work out?” he asks.

“Barely,” you admit, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I always have the excuse of not having time or not wanting to go all the way to a gym. Guess I have no excuse now.” You look up at him with a sheepish grin. It’s hard to believe you don’t work out, Taehyung thinks. You have great legs.

“I see.” He turns his back to you, exiting the room.

The next room really wows Taehyung. He doesn’t mean for it to. He wants to hate this place.

It’s a room full of musical instruments and recording equipment.

“Holy shit.” He accidentally lets out. He walks around the room, touching things with just his fingertips. “This is like grade A equipment, I could only dream of owning shit like this.” He truly does not mean to be in awe of the music room, you know, because the enemies gave it to him but holy shit!

There’s only one room left and you swear to god it better be for you. You two slowly open the door together to reveal an interests of yours.

“Is this…? Like, a dance studio or something?” He questions, glancing around the room, “Are you a dancer?” he finally looks at you and he seems quite impressed.

You look…surprised, to say the least. Your brows shooting up all the way toward your hairline, your eyes darting all around the room.

“N-Not exactly…I mean, kind of?” you admit, your eyes falling to your hands. He tilts his head in confusion.

“I…I just have a serious interest I guess you could say,” you look all around the room again, “But I,” you play with your fingers. “I have never said it out loud to anyone.”

“Oh.” Taehyung breathes out in understanding. So, these fuckers really did spy on you guys. In depth. You both feel goosebumps rise on your arms, making you both feel a chill.

“Let’s head upstairs. Shall we?”

The upstairs has 4 doors in total. You both know the door closest to the staircase is the bedroom you woke up in.

“There’s no bathroom in this room,” he motions towards the door. “And the closet was empty. So, it’s not the master and that—”

“That means there’s multiple bedrooms.” you finish for him, and you both sigh in relief.

He means, this place has a goal of getting you together, so he wouldn’t be surprised if they only offered you one bedroom, but thank the God that he doesn’t believe in that there’s more than one bedroom.

“Yeah exactly,” he breathes out. “I’m willing to bet the door at the end of the hall is the master. Wanna just skip ahead?”

“Sure,” you agree, walking past him to beat him to the door at the end of hall. But you wait for him to reach the door as well before you’re reaching for the knob and slowly turning it, swinging the door open.

The room is big, a huge king size bed in the center of the back wall. Thankfully, the drapes are dark so not a lot of natural sunlight enters the room, Taehyung thinks.

“Hell yeah, dark curtains.” You say excitedly. Obviously reading his mind.

He follows behind you, keeping his comments to himself as you ooh and aah at your surroundings. He is impressed by the rooms simple yet he guesses you could say intriguing décor. Definitely fits his style, but he won’t say that out loud. As an artist himself, the paintings on the walls are very pleasing to the eye. He wonders if they suit you as well. If you’re his ‘soulmate’ they would, he thinks bitterly. He could see himself adding his own artwork to this room. He wonders if you would be okay with that as well—wait. What is he saying? It’s not like you two will be sharing this room!

You drag your fingers across the comforter on the bed.

“Soft.” You mumble to yourself.

He chews on his lips for a moment before speaking, “You can have it…” he shifts from one foot to the other. “The room, I mean. I’ll just take the other bedroom.”

“Really? You sure?” The excitement is evident in your voice. “Wait no—that’s not very fair. We could thumb wrestle for it or—”

He raises a brow, “Thumb wrestle? Really?”

“Mortal Kombat?” you offer.

“That just wouldn’t be fair, I would win too easily.” He says, not impressed. “Just take the room. I’m sure.”

“Fine…thank you.” you bow your head down in defeat.

The two of you walk towards the master bath and your eyes come close to popping out of your heads. It is huge! And super fancy! He’s not good at fancy words but he’ll put it simply, the countertop is long with two sinks. Two sinks. The shower has one of those rain shower head things and woah. That’s for like, rich people. The way you are gawking at this bathroom tells him you’re having the same thoughts as him. Yours are probably fancy like, “This extravagant marble bathtub looks exquisite against these cream colored walls. Very…dashing.” Or some wild shit like that.

The closet is next, He’ll be completely honest. He forgot you would need clothes and shit. But holy moly, there are rows and rows of clothes, both yours and his. There is jewelry (Not really sure why that’s necessary but like, okay) and shoes on shelves against the walls. It was more than he owned himself back at home.

“Honestly I forgot about needing clothes…since we like…live here now.” The words are sour leaving your mouth, he can tell. But also, you are obviously reading his mind again.

“What? You thought you would be wearing your cute little PJ’s 24/7 or what? Wear nothing at all maybe?” he asks, shuffling from one foot to the other. He’s uncomfortable.

“ha-ha.” you deadpan. “I just haven’t really thought about what this all entails is all.”

He frowns at your words,

“We should probably talk about it, right? What this all means, I mean.” His questions causes a shift in the atmosphere. The air becoming a little thicker.

You only nod and turn on your feet to head back into the bedroom. He quickly follows behind you, both of you stopping at the foot of the bed.

“Let’s talk then.” You bite your lip, swaying side to side.

He needs to be honest. He is clearly so confused about all this. Fucking puzzled. He means, what if just what if this company was real? And this company was…right? Are you really a match made in heaven? No, that can’t be. That would be fucking ridiculous. He’s being ridiculous for even considering it. But you two obviously need to talk. Have a fucking chit chat.

You plop down on the edge of the bed and he follows your lead, finding a spot right next to you. Your knee shakes up and down quickly while you play with the hem of your shirt. You’re obviously nervous as fuck, which he can’t really blame you. He watches you for a few moments before hesitantly placing a hand over your shaking knee, trying to stop the anxious movement and hoping to God he is not crossing any serious lines, he’s just really getting annoyed by your shaking knee and needs that shit to stop. You turn your head to face him and he is met with a look of frustration. He turns his head to face straight ahead and with a heavy sigh he says, “I feel that way too.” Because it’s true, you both must feel the same. It’s not like you want to be stuck here with him either. Right?

You finally let out a long breath, “How long?” you whisper. “How long will we be stuck here?” you begin to sniffle as your eyes become wet. Shit. He brings his hands to his lap and interlocks his fingers together.

“I…I don’t know.” He answers honestly. “But what are your thoughts? On what we read…” he clears his throat, clarifying as if it wasn’t already obvious.

You suck in a sharp breath, “I don’t know what to believe.” You admit. “But we are…” you gesture between you two, “This is—This is not happening.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes as if that wasn't the most obvious statement in the world. He. Could. Not. Agree. More.

You continue, “Someone deciding for me? On this part of my life? That doesn’t sit right with me. No fucking thank you.”

“Yeah, me either.”

“I mean,” you turn to face him, “You seem decent and all, when you’re not being an ass, but this is all insane. Just insane.” You wear an annoyed expression, shaking your head in disbelief. He breathes out of his nose in attempt to laugh.

“Yeah, you’re telling me.”

“But…” you pause, choosing your next words carefully…you have to be careful with this next part. “But if it’s real? What are we—” and yup, just as expected, you are cut off with just a look. He furrows his brows together and pushes his head back in surprise.

“This can’t be forced y/n.” he states firmly. You raise your hands up in surrender.

“Oh my god, Taehyung. I know that! I fucking know, jeez. But we have to talk about all the possibilities.” You say firmly, “We’re stuck here for who knows how long and you read the same thing as me, right?” you push on, “3 months? 6 months? A fucking year?” you drag a heavy hand down your tired face. “And don’t even get me started on these damn ‘Requests’ and whatever they are!” You are clearly very frustrated…Taehyung looks at you with the same pity you’re sure he feels for himself.

“Okay, okay.” For the first time Taehyung speaks to you much more softly. “Listen, they can’t keep us here forever? We are going to prove we are that 1%. We just got to stay out of one another’s way and just wait it out until they return us home.” Then his frown deepens, “But wait, what about the ‘Requests’?” he asks, concern lacing his voice.

You strum your fingers on your thigh, staring down at your lap, in deep thought.

“I know this is weird but…” Taehyung starts.

“I know, we have to talk about it.” You finally look up at him and your entire face has gone pink.

“If the ‘Requests’ are, I don’t know, “pure” enough, we could just like do them?” you look at him with doe eyes, “Or like, if the penalty isn’t that bad…. I don’t know.” You ramble on.

The thing is, neither of you know what to expect from these ‘Requests’ and their penalties. It’s one huge mystery. And neither you nor Taehyung are a fan of mysteries. Taehyung watches as you begin shaking your knee in total panic again when he clears his throat.

“Hey…I think we can worry about that when or if the time comes, okay?”

“When or if…” you repeat slowly. “Okay.”

He stands from his place at the bed and begins walking towards the bedroom door.

“As long as we stay out of each other’s way, we should be good.”

“Stay out of each other’s way…” you nibble on your lips, “Like, we don’t talk or anything?”

“Precisely. You do your thing, I’ll do mine.”

“But—”

“That’s just the way it’s got to be.”

“Fine.” You speak bitterly, “Fine by me.”

Stuck on a beautiful island in a beautiful house with a beau—with a man. What could possibly go wrong? Vacation from hell, here we go.

#bts #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #kim taehyung #taehyung x reader #bts fanfic #taehyung smut #taehyung #taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #the island chapter 1

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halo-jpeg · 3 years

Note

hi new bestie! can you please write some stanley or bill x reader fluff :)

Bestie indeed I got you 😚😌✨ So this is a strange amalgamation of stuff from the book and stuff from the movie because I couldn't pick one and uh- I hope it isn't too confusing. If you have any questions at all just leave them as a reply and ill answer in no time at all :) Also, in AUs where Stan doesn't die I like to headcanon him as like,,,, some reincarnation of the Turtle or something. It's totally unrealistic but it's a lot of fun to think he keeps all his memories and is just a little bit omnipotent. Yay.

Stanley Uris x Reader Fluff

You sat bolt upright and uttered a sharp gasp, your eyes blown wide. Goosebumps rippled back and forth along your arms, pricking eerily as the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end- you were certain you would be screaming right now if you weren't painfully out of breath, your lungs clamped tightly together as if trapped in the unrelenting jaws of some beast. With your heart thrumming too quick inside of your chest you felt as if you were dying, as if you'd run a thousand miles just like you had seemed to be moments earlier in the midst of your nightmare. The menace, the fear, it played back in your head like some sick home movie, terrifying you to your very core and drawing out something akin to a wail, like the sound of a wounded animal, quiet and choked and desperate.

The space around you was vast, eternal, stretching left and right and up forever yet being lit by a yellowish, alien glow. People were with you, seven people but you didn't know their names. Someone had your hand on one side, someone else on the other and your stomach was roiling with horror. Before you was a demon, something that could only have come from hell and even that seemed to be a stretch. Through the endlessness you could only see eyes, glowing and red and promising death, and muscle rippling under fur-covered spider legs.

Your arms clamped around you in a death grip, your eyes slamming shut and begging for the images to be out out out out out. These images, why the hell did you keep seeing these images? This scene from beyond was forced upon you night after night after restless, sleepless night and you didn't understand why. The reasoning was there, you knew it was, you knew that the cause of these dreams lie somewhere in your brain but you just couldn't grasp onto it and right now you weren’t sure if you even wanted to. You pull your knees to your stomach, tears brimming in your eyes, your hitching breaths becoming desperate sobs and no further helping the hurting in your chest. You wanted to scream, to get up and run towards anyone and anything that would keep you safe but everything was too much, too sudden, too frightening and it your chest hurt and your head was spinning and the images, oh god the memories-

The beast roared, deafening, your hair pressing backwards and blowing wildly in the wake of it. The smell overwhelmed your senses and dug up stray memories of the Canal Days Festival, of petting zoos and goats and pigs and the stench of an animal carcass. You felt as if you were going to throw up but the grip on your either hand grew tighter and you swallowed down the bile. The phrase, Turn Light Into Dark, it washed you with a sense of power that only made your head throb more. Blinding lights spun down, down, closer, and though you knew your eyes were shut you could still see Its true form even though you didn't know what It was.

A hand pressed over your mouth to stop another wail from escaping, louder this time now that you had spare breath in your lungs. Tears spilled over and swam down your cheeks like small rivers guided by a canal cut through stone, the Kenduskeag, Derry- You forced the thoughts of Derry away and swept them under a mental rug. When you thought of Derry you grew afraid that you would find out why you were having these nightmares. You couldn't stand that. You were shaking, oh how you were shaking, tremors rocking you back and forth as if a dog- no, a werewolf had sunk its teeth into your spine and was regarding you as nothing but a chew toy. You needed something, someone, you needed to get this to stop-

These lights, the Deadlights, they doused you back into that cold sea of terror that the still-new power had almost saved you from. Seeing them now, here, descending, physical, you did not think that you could kill them. These candle flames would not be snuffed, you thought, and yet you screamed your throat raw nonetheless. A chorus of voices you felt rather than heard chanted over and over Turn Light Into Dark Turn Light Into Dark Turn Light Into Dark and then the lights were gone, swallowed up by something magical, something that killed monsters if you believed it did until the circle broke as one of you went to lock It up in Its new cage. As the circle broke so did the flowing power and a red glow overtook the alien yellow as the lid was pushed up and away and the sleek scarlet surface of a blood-coloured balloon emerged from the magic prison. You felt your stomach sink, your blood run cold, the power drain from your veins for the briefest moment as your belief waned completely and oh no oh God this was it you thought you would have killed It would have extinguished Its flame but It was eternal It was the Eater of Worlds and it wouldn't-

The door whipped open and you let out a startled cry halfway through a choking sob, not having noticed that you had begun to cry aloud. At once you slapped a hand over your mouth yet again, scrubbing at your cheeks with the heel of your palm and slapping on a shaky little smile that entirely contradicted the wild look in your eyes. Your heart was thrumming again both from the memories and the jump as the door flung open. You had to tell yourself again and again and again that you knew this man, that he was familiar and his name was right there at the tip of your tongue, curly hair and brown doe eyes and a kind, concerned crease in his brows that only deepened at the sight of you- Stanley, it was just Stan and suddenly you felt safe enough to cry. Your arms both going to pull your knees into your chest you let the terror grip you and the sobs rip free from your throat.

"(Y/N) what- what happened? Are you okay?" For a moment Stan hesitated, looking instinctively down at the palm of his hand for a reason you did not know and then he went surging forwards and to your side, gathering you up in his arms. He didn't speak just yet, simply holding you close, quiet, something about him dripping with a sense of calm. Laced underneath that pressing security was the power you had felt ripped from you in your dream, the power you did not know the meaning of but were certain was important, had been important, in some vital way. You cried and cried in Stanley's arms as your group of eight, a lucky number, crazy eights, was split instead into twos and ones.

One with glasses, one with a patch on his cheek, one with hair lit aflame like January Embers, one in love and one who was too smart for his own good and one who would lead them to safety no matter what and no matter when- and then there was him, he who let out this forcefield of strength, the one thought to be the weakest now doused in some strength greater than It, than love, than the Turtle whoever that was and he had your hand in his and you were running and trying to get away. Trials, terror, doors and bathroom stalls and clubhouses and (how do you know this?) little brothers and the macroverse. The Deadlights and blood and broken hearts and fear and pain.

"Do you want to talk about it?" His voice was soft, safe, and his hands rest on either side of your face to guide your eyes to his own. They were dark like melted chocolate, solid, calm, steady and unmoving and nothing like the ruby red ones belonging to It, to the creature you didn't think possible to imagine. You didn't have to answer for Stan to know you would decline. He didn't scold, he didn't chastise- he would never do that. Instead, he leaned forwards and placed a kiss on the space between your eyebrows, guiding your head to rest on his shoulder. He did nothing more than hold you, silent, waiting for the fear to run it's course.

Belief grew strong all over again, the Leader fanning the flame of hope and driving forth the metaphorical wooden stake at last. You had felt something like hellfire roar through you, a driving agony that nearly drove you into madness but then it faded to the back of your mind and It was flaking away. There was crying alongside the groaning of the earth, a lurching sound like wood moments from snapping in two. Urgency, warm and throttling, tied each of you eight together and forced you onwards despite the exhaustion tethered like weights to your limbs. A hand in yours, you raced into darkness, leaving behind webs to collapse and bodies to fall and be buried. The gargantuan remainders of what was Its nest would lie dormant in the ground for millennia to follow, undiscovered. Eight of you, one two three four five six seven eight, retraced steps with the help of a dying man and grew closer and closer to light and life and safety. You climbed rough rock, something or someone (Turtle? Other?) lending you all the collective determination to move quick and careful and leave no man behind. The earth sang a song of despair as it clung to itself with all of it's force, urging you forwards, cheering you on, hoping you would all make it out before it could cling on no longer and collapsed atop your sorry heads.

"Focus on your breathing, my dear. You're all right. I have you," Stanley let his hand rest on your hair, stroking, smoothing, calming, "You're going to be alright." For a moment the floodgates in your head flung open and you knew everything but then they slammed shut once more and you were left hopelessly, blissfully clueless. You curled tightly into yourself, coiling like a frightened snake, letting the golden power coming off of Stanley in waves lay over you like soft, light silk. Something about this strength, glowing brighter than the sun in a manner much more pleasant than the Deadlights(?) felt ancient as well as young and fresh. You are certain Stanley has had this aura forever, and yet you have never ever felt it this strongly. It was almost as if you could see him lit from the inside out.

More darkness, sewers, the dead things smell fading slowly yet steadily. You passed places that were achingly familiar and yet felt worlds away, not having even the chance to stop and say farewell (did you say farewell to nightmare places?) since the roof was dropping flakes of grit and the rumbling had grown near a roar. Another well, a rope, heaving and pulling, up up up out of the dark and into the light, the homestretch. The feelings you felt were smothering, a sickening concoction of relief and one last choking bout of terror. It was not over yet. Eight of you, all eight, running through the house on (Nelson? Neibolt.) street towards safety, towards the end, towards-

You had never seen this far before. Your nightmares always cut off abruptly before you could even start to flee. They always cut off right before you defeat It, whatever It was, right before you snuffed Its light from this realm. Now, however, as if coaxed forth or caught on the end of a fishing line, you were seeing the ending, the ending of everything. Stan was still petting your hair, rocking gently back and forth as your trembling began to ease and your crying, ever-slowly, began to subside. The memories were still frightening, coming to you in rapid flashes, reminding you of an old black and white film spinning on a reel.

Towards the door. Floorboards creaked and groaned and split, sinking down, breaking underneath your feet. Glass shattered as walls sank towards collapse, as the dirt began to part, opening into a grave. Somewhere behind you the roof collapsed and spilt old dust-soaked furniture, a coffin, a collection of porcelain clowns down towards their resting place. With one final shriek of snapping wood all eight burst out into the Summer sun and the house gave in behind them. They didn't stop; the cement path was cracking, the weeds being reclaimed by the soil. The Earth opened up at last, providing just enough time- maybe held together by some greater strength- for the eight to reach safety. You all spun, watching, awestruck and horrified and solemn as the Earth opened up it's unrelenting jaws and swallowed whole the home of death that It had claimed as it's own.

Your shaking had stopped. Your sobbing had halted. Your heart had slowed to a regulated beat like that of a drum. Slowly, Stan's grip around you had begun to ease and you wrapped your own arms around him in turn. Your eyes, which had been screwed tightly shut, fluttered open and then fell closed once more, soft, not afraid.

"There you are, baby-love," Stan whispered the words into the top of your head and bumped his nose gently against it, "All better, right? You're going to be okay." With a swell of love that almost made you want to cry once more, you believed it. He was going to keep you safe just as he has done forever. With a concrete certainty you knew that Stanley would fight of Heaven and Hell if it meant saving you. With a concrete certainty you knew that, at some point, he basically had. You shift, slow, leaning away from him to gaze into those dark caramel eyes yet again. That's where the power came from, you were certain; from those eyes of his. They were so calm, so collected, so firm and confident and adoring. They shone with nothing but utter love.

"Stan..." Your voice was weak and shaky but Stan nodded his head, patient, waiting for you to find your words again, "Do... do you ever get nightmares?" At this, Stan cracked a radiant smile that was brighter than starshine and glowed in a way entirely different from the burning of the Deadlights. This smile was otherworldly, like the beams of the sun in the form of man. He nodded.

"Of course, dear," he hummed, and let his head fall forwards, forehead against your own, "We're only human." The last sob shook your body, and then you grew still as Stanley bumped his nose gently against yours. Your goosebumps sank away. The tightness of your lungs eased. A honey-toned warmth seeped from a newfound crack in your memory floodgates, letting through scraps of your childhood you had long since forgotten. The Summer of '88 had been pushed from your brain; as far as you had been concerned it had never even happened, it had just been Spring and then Autumn but now, with the door cracked open just a sliver, the memories spilled through and they were brilliant. You remembered the Barrens, playing guns and tag and Parcheesi and jungle hunters, winding through bamboo and splashing in the river and building a dam and an underground clubhouse. You remembered buying ice cream and movie tickets and picking through the dump with the seven greatest friends you had ever known. You remembered Stan the first time you'd seen him, haloed by the setting sun as you fell upon him and his friends on the cliff above the quarry. You remember Beverly's kind smile, Bill's welcoming eyes, Mike's handshake, Ben's timid wave. You remembered Richie's ill-timed joke and the way Eddie had so lovingly punched him so hard in the shoulder he had almost tumbled right off the rock he was seated on. You remember feel- hearing a click like pieces of a puzzle slotting together and you remember thinking these are my people.

Underneath these warm memories were dark ones begging to push through, to smother the good things, but for some odd reason you could imagine Stan fending them off, keeping them at bay for your sake. You can imagine him keeping the door held shut enough that the big ugly thoughts about hurt and fear on the other side of the gates. And you were grateful.

"You know," Stan said, and placed one hand on your cheek, his thumb skimming lightly over your cheekbone, "Those things in your nightmares can't hurt you. Monsters can always be killed," And, as if he had spoken directly to your brain, you feel-heard him saying if you believe they can. You met his sunbeam smile with your own, smaller but just as listlessly beautiful. Yet again you felt the aura around him, around your man, your husband, the only person you ever needed in your life.

"I know," You replied, and kissed him soft, "and I believe they can so long as you’re here with me.”

—————

Okay i actually,,,,, adore this I think? Stan doesn’t get enough love and I would die for him. So, just to kind of explain this in case I failed to do that through the text itself, Stan was gifted a few nifty little powers by either The Turtle or The Other depending on what makes more sense to you. He can (with a little struggling- that’s why the ‘floodgates’ opened and shut suddenly before finally only letting the good stuff through) staunch and release the memories of It and Derry in all of his friends heads, meaning he can choose what they do and don’t remember. He can also, just a little bit, project his thoughts onto other people. I’m not exactly sure why I went with this idea but I thought it was nice and fun and after playing a lovely It based game called ‘Use You Outside Voice Richie Tozier’ I fell in love with God-Stan. Thanks for reading :)

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sope-and-shine · 3 years

Text

The Right of a King: Pt. 1

-> SFW // Soulmate!AU // fluff, angst // mummy!Namjoon -> Pairing: Namjoon x Reader -> Word Count: 15.1k -> Summary: Life as the night guard for your local high-end museum was supposed to be simple and easy. The most dangerous part of your job was only supposed to be the middle-aged patrons who insisted they get a discount for a line being too long. Nowhere in your contract did it say you’d be taking care of a 1,000 year old king that had been mummified. Thankfully, for you he’s harmless, but the storm that comes with him is not as welcoming. -> Warning(s): mild language, brief crude humor, Namjoon is kind of a jerk but he gets better...kinda, also a bit of a misogynist, technology abuse RIP the museum equipment, Jimin IS that salesman that uses his charm to steal your money - but will anyone complain? no.

A/N: This whole fic is a BEAST i sWEAR! I am however really excited to share this fic with everyone! This was originally for a collab that never got to happen -RIP - but I liked the idea too much to just throw her away!

I do want to give a huge shout out to @sakuraguks-main for beta reading this as well as my squad for their constant encouragement throughout the writing process.

Now if you excuse me, I need to get back to writing part 2

Masterlist

* * *

“Just the lunch box and the banana milk this time?”

“Uh…” You look up from your wallet to view your items on the counter. It was just one prepackaged lunch and a few banana milks, much less than you usually buy on your routine dinner stop. You don’t want to buy too much, but you’d need something for later in the morning too.

You settle for grabbing a few bags of chips off the rack next to you and set them on the counter, “I’ll take those too.”

He nods and rings them up, bagging them while you pay with your card. He grabs your receipt and tucks it in the bag, handing them to you as you slide your wallet back into your bag, “Have a good evening, (Y/n)!”

You nod, “Thank you! See you tomorrow, Gyu!” You wave to him as you exit the convenience store and step back into the bustling city.

Stopping for food is always a must for you before every shift with it being smack in the middle of your route. If you were to spend 10:00p.m. to 8a.m. by yourself with no food, you would probably go insane. It wasn’t like you couldn’t bring them from home, but it was much more convenient to stop on your way there. Occasionally, you’ll attempt to pull back on your snack intake, but Gyu never makes it easy on you when you do. He just makes it another typical day for you.

Wake up at 2:30, take a shower, do your school work, get ready for work, leave the house, stop to buy food from Gyu, and then arrive at the grand entrance to the Seoul Museum of History and Art.

The building itself is 4 stories high - not including the lower level storage it sits on top of - and 1 city block in length and width. It’s exterior is grand and extravagant with 3 large pillars that encase the 4 doorways that lead into the lobby. A large staircase greets you at the sidewalk, flower beds decorating the front along the brick railing on either side of the stairs. You never take the stairs on your way in, choosing to take the ramp hidden in the flowers up to the entrance instead. You’d have enough problems walking around the entire museum, adding more stairs to the mix would only ruin your mood.

Thankfully, Jin is always there to greet you on your way in. He never fails to brighten your day when you see him. Dressed sharp in a white button down tucked into fitted black dress pants with a grey suit jacket on top, he stands with his hands together in front of him and a large welcoming smile. His hair is parted just off center, not losing shape even as he nods to the patron in front of him.

You wait for him to finish his conversation before you greet him, “Well, if it isn’t Mr. Worldwide Handsome himself.”

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.” Jin chuckles. He lets his shoulders relax, moving his neck from side to side before looking at his watch. He looks impressed, “Wow, you’re earlier than usual.”

You shrug, “Yeah, Hoseok said he needed to talk to me about the exhibit pieces that are coming in.”

“Say no more,” Jin raises his hands in front of him and shakes his head, “I’ve heard all I need to.”

“Yeah, I know how you feel,” You laugh. You shake your head and sigh, “I should get going so I can get ready to clear the last minute rush.”

“Don’t work too hard, night guard.” He gives you a mock salute and you turn away, waving goodbye to him as you continue down the corridor into a sea of people.

Most people would think a museum wouldn’t be so popular, but your crowds never seemed to dwindle. You suppose you’d have Yoongi to thank for that. He ran the museum so smoothly it was almost like clockwork. Doors opened at 9 and they closed at 9, new exhibits rotate in and out every 7 ½ months to the day, and employees were put through severe background checks and training just to make sure they’d be competent enough to work in his museum. Everyone that works in the museum was handpicked by Yoongi himself, and everyone chosen contributes everything they have to be here.

You pass by the gift shop, spying Jimin at the counter helping a few kids pick out candies. He notices you passing and smiles, giving you a quick wave that you return before he gives his attention to the children in front of him.

You continue on down the hall, passing the cafe and the restrooms. The walls begin to lose their decor the farther you go, becoming planer and planer until you reach the break room doors.

“He was like, ‘do you think toys for cavemen were any different from present day? Like that shit must be wild bro’ and then they all started laughing at me when I said they didn’t have a Toys R Us, so yeah, they were different from now.” Jeongguk says as you enter the room. His impeccable timing for ‘strange conversation’ never ceases to amaze you every time you walk through the door.

Jeongguk’s a great guy, always very respectful and eager to learn more, but he’s been working as a tour guide in the museum for about a year now and he still hasn’t seemed to pick up on anything. You’re pretty sure Yoongi only hired him to keep the single ladies coming back. It was hard to correct someone with such a cute, bunny smile and such remarkable enthusiasm in the work place.

“Do you think it was an inside joke?” He proceeds to ask, his attention trained on Johnny who stands at the locker to the right of yours.

The man in question can’t stop himself from giving the younger a disappointed frown, “Dude...you’re the joke…”

Jeongguk tilts his head in confusion and you jump into the conversation, “I’m sure they’re just being teenagers, Guk. I wouldn’t worry too much about it.” You turn to briefly glare at your locker mate as you open it, turning your frown into a smile when you face Jeongguk again, “Tomorrow is another day!”

“You’re right!” He closes his locker and throws his bag over his shoulder, his confidence already returning, “I’ll learn everything I can about cavemen toys and come back tomorrow prepared to tell all of my tours about them!”

He leaves before you can say anything back, off to do whatever it is he usually does after work. You don’t mind though, it’s a little hard to understand the college sophomore anyways. At least with him leaving you can relax before your shift starts.

Johnny sighs next to you, “You mother him too much.”

“I don’t mother him. I just don’t want to explain to him what they’re actually talking about.” You argue, placing your bags on the hooks in your locker. You take off your overcoat and replace it with your black security jacket, fixing the collar, “Besides, he’ll figure it out by this weekend and then he won’t make eye contact with either one of us for the next week.”

“Whatever you say.” He pulls out a lint roller and hands it to you before closing his locker, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Waving behind you with the roller in hand, you say, “Have a good night!” You hear the door open and close behind you, leaving you alone in the room to sort yourself out.

You make quick work to de-lint your black work pants, setting the roller at the top of your locker. Then you take the bags you set down and pull them over to the table at the center of the room, leaving your locker open while you take out your food to be refrigerated. When you have everything you need, you place the leftover snacks back on the hook and shut the door.

The door opens on your way to the fridge, Hoseok walking in with a folder in his hands. He looks up from whatever he’s reading and his eyes widen in surprise, “You’re here!”

You open the fridge, “Yeah, you told me to come in a little early.” You set your bag on the top shelf, close the door, and turn to him, “You wanted to talk to me about tomorrow?”

“Right.” He approaches the table and sets his stuff down, sorting through a few papers before he pulls one from his stack. He extends it to you, “This is all the information about who we’ll be meeting with tomorrow. It has times, names, and a manifest.”

“Everything is the same from the texts you sent me, right?” You ask, eyes skimming over the sheet for anything new.

“Yes! Each artifact was individually packed, so we should only have 12 new pieces coming in tomorrow.”

“Okay, so we just need to keep an eye on what they bring in.” You say, more to yourself than to him. You take a moment to let the information sink in, nodding in understanding when you’re sure you have it all down. You look back up to Hoseok who’s already discarding his security jacket, “Did you have any luck on new night guard help?”

“Ah-...no,” Hoseok sets his jacket over the back of the chair in front of him. He’d been searching for new help ever since Chanyeol left, leaving you to run the night shift alone. It wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t ideal for a museum in the middle of the city. You knew that and so did Hoseok. “I’ve been working on it, but it’s been hard with the new arrivals. Besides, you know how Yoongi is when he’s hiring new employees.”

You nod, knowing exactly how anal the museum director could truly be, “Yeah, I know. Just keep me updated though?”

You don’t really mind working by yourself, but you could only go so many days without a single day off. Thankfully, Hoseok was understanding of this, “I will! I’ll work something out, I promise!”

“Thank you,” You smile. You grab your bag off the table and hoist it over your shoulder, “I’m gonna go clock in and see about ushering the night crowd out.”

“Hyuk should be starting on level 1.” He informs you.

“I’ll take level 4 then.” You bid Hoseok goodbye and head across the hall to the security room, setting your stuff down in your chair and clocking in at the main computer. You take a moment to check the camera’s, looking for the most populated areas to look out for and which exhibits you could close as you go through.

This was something you did everyday. You’d find the unpopulated areas first so you could sweep the rooms and lock the exhibits behind you. One by one, you make sure to clear the floor before you move to the next level.

The third level is much busier than the other levels, having had the most change to it’s layout since the new exhibit was brought in 2 weeks prior. Families make their way to the stairs while couples try to catch one last look at exhibits they missed in favor for another.

Walking into the Ancient Dynasties Exhibit, you nod to the partons that you pass on their way out, stopping by the occasional straggler to let them know it’s time to go. You rarely ever have problems with getting someone to leave - maybe once or twice you’ve had to get physical with someone or call the police to escort them out of the museum - but the number of times is so small you could count them on one hand. There’s only one person you have to repeatedly kick out of the exhibit, and he’s worse than any patron you’ve ever dealt with.

“Taehyung, I need you to leave.” You tell him, approaching him from behind. His green, 3 piece suit is only slightly wrinkled from his work throughout the day, his jacket discarded and set off to his side.

The bubbly curator turns his head over his shoulder, dirty blonde locks still kept in a perfect side-sweep thanks to his “very essential” hair gel. His smile is almost a tease as he says, “Just a few more minutes.”

You cross your arms and sigh, “I’m counting.”

The saying “Just a few more minutes” has lost all meaning with Taehyung. You haven’t believed him since your third day of working together. He’s never been good at leaving his exhibits, wanting to take pride in his work. Despite having the ability to take pictures of the area as it’s curator, he insists on committing them all to memory. In hindsight, it’s very endearing. However, his wants tend to put you behind your own schedule.

He turns back around and you take a seat next to him on the bench. You take an obligatory look around the section he sits in, glancing over each artifact that decorates the walls. From tapestries or writing displays that hang on the walls, to small podiums with items far more fragile encased in glass. In front of you - roped off and on a placed on a small stage - is a large sarcophagus covered in gold with two lit candle placed beside it. Behind it is a wall of flowers, all apparently favorites from when the King was alive.

“Have I told you about Namjoon hyung?” He asks, referencing the mummy in front of you.

King Kim Namjoon of the Kim Dynasty. The only king of Korea to be mummified. Of all the exhibits you’ve been through with Taehyung, this one was his favorite. You could really say he’s obsessed with the dead King! Even with 6 more exhibits to his name. Taehyung spent almost all of his time in this section.

“I think I could talk about this guy in my sleep!” You laugh, nudging his side playfully, “And should you really be calling him ‘hyung’? If anything, he’s an ‘ahjussi’ to you.”

“Yes, but I know so much about him that he feels like a hyung to me!” He argues with a certain admiration in his eyes, “I’ve spent years waiting for this moment to have him in one of my exhibits, and now he’s right at my fingertips!”

He really isn’t exaggerating either. Before the king arrived, Taehyung would show you continuous updates about his uncovering and the updates on how his body was kept. The day his exhibit was approved, you thought he was going to explode. Of all the curators and all of the possible museums, he got King Namjoon. Anyone who didn’t know would’ve thought he won the lottery. In a way, he did.

“His exhibit here is a permanent one, Tae. He’s not going anywhere, so you don’t have to worry about him leaving anytime soon.” You assure him, placing a hand on his arm. Your smile turns into a grin, “What I am worried about is you leaving soon. Get out of my museum before I go find Yoongi.”

“I’m not afraid of Yoongi.” You raise an eyebrow at him and his shoulders drop, “Okay, so maybe I’m terrified of Yoongi, but that’s not important right now!”

You give his shoulder a light nudge, “Go home, Taehyung. The rest of your hyung will be here tomorrow.” You tease.

He sighs and leans his head back, “You say that like he didn’t arrive all put together. He’s a mummy, not Frankenstein.”

You hit his arm, “Get out of here.”

“Okay!” He stands up and turns to you with a boxy grin, “I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t work too hard.”

“I never do.” You wave him off, watching him saunter out of the exhibit with a little jump in his step. Even after 14 hours on the clock of rounding the museum to look at his works, he’s still running like he just woke up. Some days you wish you could be as happy with your job as Taehyung is, but how many people truly loved working the night shift in a dark, quiet museum?

* * *

“Alright, let’s make this fast and efficient everyone!” Yoongi barks, walking up to the loading dock where you and Hoseok stand on opposite sides of the doors. He eyes the unloading crew unlocking the truck and sends them a warning glare, “It’s a full moon tonight, and I will not be out at 3am like last time.”

“You need to relax, Yoongi,” Hoseok warns him, still standing across from you, “It’s just a few small pieces and then we’ll be out of here before your ‘witching hour’ is here.”

Hoseok wiggles his fingers for a “spooky emphasis” and you stifle a chuckle. Yoongi is not as amused, “Laugh all you want, but at least I won’t be dead.”

“Is that a threat? Can I file an HR complaint?” Hoseok asks.

Yoongi sighs, “Just do your job while they unload so we can leave.”

You offer a teasing grin and a nod, “Yes sir~”

Yoongi walks away and Taehyung replaces him, standing next to you instead of in the way of the workers. He rolls back and forth on his feet, watching happily as if he were a child at Christmas.

“Did I tell you what’s coming today?” He asks.

You roll your eyes, “I’m sure you may have mentioned it here or there.”

Of course, you know what was coming in. Your job is to protect it with your life. Hoseok gave you the run down via text on your last 5 shifts and again today as soon as you walked through the doors. More paintings, a chair, a dusty old book, and the shining jewel of the King’s tomb.

“His lover’s necklace!” Taehyung beams, “According to what we know, this necklace was used by the King to find his soulmate. We believe that because he didn’t take a queen, he never found his other half.”

You shrug, “Maybe he wasn’t really looking.”

“Maybe...maybe not. Most historians believe he mummified himself so when fate brings his soulmate to him, he’d wake again and they’d spend eternity together.” He turns to you and flicks your forehead, “You would know if you actually paid attention to me.”

You push him back, “Well, excuse me if I can’t listen to you talk about his majesty for more than 10 minutes a week.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes and turns back to the movers. His annoyance quickly turns to excitement as he catches sight on the last box being carried in, “Is that the necklace?”

“Uh…” The man carrying the box looks at the label on the side, nodding to Taehyung in confirmation, “Yes sir.”

“Oh! Follow me!” Taehyung grabs your arm and pulls you after him. You turn your head back to Hoseok for help but he’s already waving you off while he closes the loading doors. You both follow the crew member to the table where a few other small items are being opened already, waiting long enough for the man to open the box for you. You can’t see the inside of the crate with Taehyung in your way, but he gets the first look at whatever dingy piece of jewelry is inside. He flails in excitement, “Look at this!”

Taehyung rushes forward, pushing the man helping him out of the way to reach into the box. When he turns around, he holds a smaller box in his hand, “It’s right here!”

“That’s another box…” You point out, eyes narrowed in irritation.

“It’s not just another box!” He argues. He undoes the latch and pulls the lid back towards him, revealing the most beautiful necklace you’ve ever seen. A delicate string of silver stones bedazzled with small fuschia gems all laced together with a golden band weaving under and over. It glistens in the shine of the storage room work lights, drawing you in with every hypnotizing twinkle.

Taehyung smiles knowingly, enjoying your sudden engrossment in the artifact, “Isn’t it gorgeous?”

You nod, wanting nothing more than to reach out and touch the delicate jewel. It takes a surprising amount of restraint from you just to pull away, “It’s definitely pretty.”

Yoongi claps his hands from the table beside you, “Let’s get these up to the Ancient Dynasties exhibit and in their places so we can get out of here.”

Everyone takes a box and begins to move upstairs, you and Hoseok helping the men with the old chair to ensure it doesn’t get stuck on anything. With the few items left to be brought into the exhibit, it didn’t take long at all for everything to be settled into their rightful places.

“Perfect! It’s all perfect!” Taehyung cheers, clapping his hands and squeezing them together. His excitement for this event was unmatched, and you know that in the morning when you see him next, he’ll be bouncing up and down just as he is now.

Hoseok nods to you, “Let’s lock them up.”

“Right.” You pull out your keyring and begin the process of going case to case while Hoseok sets their alarms after you. You make it all the way around the room until you stand in front of the necklace again. It’s beauty draws you in, having never seen something like this before. Many would think it too bulky and busy for someone to wear everyday, but a part of you could see it’s appeal.

A part of you wouldn’t mind wearing it at all.

Taehyung walks over to where you stand locking the cases and audibly gasps behind you, “Fix it!”

You jump, “Fix what?”

“The necklace! It’s not straight!” He points at the case and you turn your attention back to the object beneath the glass. Staring at with a clearer mind, it is indeed tilted just slightly to the left. If you were to just glance at it, you probably would have never noticed. But nothing could get past a perfectionist like Taehyung, “We have to fix it now!”

“Okay!” To appease the overly attentive curator, you unlock the case and adjust the necklace yourself. You pull the delicate string of stone and gem into place, locking it back up when you’re done. It glimmers in the corner of your eye as you turn back to Taehyung, “Better?”

He grins, knowing fully well that you’re more than annoyed with him, “Perfect.”

“Alright, now that we’re all done, everyone needs to leave so I can go home.” Yoongi announces.

Hoseok chuckles, “You really don’t want to be up past midnight do you?”

“I don’t care about being up past midnight. I don’t want to be out past midnight.” The older man grumbles, most likely cursing the other in the back of his mind, “There’s a difference.”

“Sure there is.” Hoseok teases, making Yoongi glare at him even harder than before. He turns to the movers and waves for them to follow him, “Gentlemen, let me show you back to your truck. We wouldn’t want the grump over here to bite your head off.”

The group follows after Hoseok and so does Yoongi, “You’re so lucky you’re my friend, Hoseok, or I would fire you so fast.”

Hoseok only laughs at his loose threat, “Well, if you’d like to take the bus then be my guest.”

They all leave the exhibit and you turn to Taehyung who still stands in front of the case admiring the necklace inside, “So, I’ll see you early tomorrow, Tae?”

He turns back to you and gives you a large, reassuring smile, “Bright and early.”

“Go and get some rest for your big day then.” You say, placing a hand on his back and nudging him towards the door.

You watch him leave the exhibit, laughing at the way he dances to the music playing in his head. You take the responsibility of closing the gate, glancing over the exhibits contents between the bars before following Taehyung yourself. You say goodbye to Yoongi and Hoseok at the front door, ensuring the door gets locked behind them before getting to your own duties that were halted because of the shipment.

---

It’s later in the evening when you finally get to make your rounds through the empty halls of the museum. You’d checked every camera in the building twice, filling out your night paperwork as well as the visitor log for Hoseok to look over in the morning as you went. All you really had to do was roam the halls every now and then, keeping an eye on the monitors for anything suspicious.

The night shift was never quite as tiring as the day shift. Your interaction with patrons or real people was always far below what Hoseok and the dayshift would have to deal with - that was part of the reason you chose to take over the night shift. It was a bit more time consuming with just you, but hopefully Hoseok will find someone to replace Chanyeol before the New Year.

You hear a faint bang down the corridor and you pause. You’ve heard bumps like this before, mostly when it would rain and the tree by the ramp outside would hit the window. Rain wasn’t on the forecast for the evening, but that had never stopped it before. Not so easily scared, you continue on down the hall, stopping at the end of the hall when you hear it again.

“What the fuck…?” You say to yourself, a slight shake in your voice. The bang sounds again and you reach for your flashlight, it being the only protection against intruders.

In the three years you’ve worked as a security guard, you’ve never had a break in. Even before you, there had never once been an attempt by anyone to steal anything. In reality, the alarms should’ve gone off by now if someone had made their way into the museum. That meant that someone was smart enough to get past the security system, or you were going crazy.

You really hope you’re going crazy.

You make your way down the hallway, following the bumps and bangs into the Ancient Dynasties exhibit. The gate is locked - it hasn’t been unlocked since you left the room at midnight - but the noise isn’t one easily mistaken.

Against your better judgement you unlock the gate, stepping in and leaving the gate cracked behind you. If you needed a quick escape, then you wanted to be able to yank it closed as well. The noises cease as soon as you’re completely past the gate, sending an ominous chill up your spine. At a glance, nothing in the room seems out of place. Nothing looks to have been moved or damaged, but that does little to settle your unease.

“This is normal...everything is normal.” You say to yourself, trying to trick yourself into having the courage to move forward.

You spot the necklace in it’s spot close to the sarcophagus. It’s glass remains intact, just like every other item within the exhibit’s walls. It would make sense for someone to come after it considering it’s value, yet there it remains untouched.

“So where did the banging come fr-Agh!” You scream as the sarcophagus lid bursts open, falling to the floor in front of it and ripping the ropes connected to the wall right out.

Inside the now open casket, the ancient king covered in tattered, dusty cloth rolls his head. You can see his mouth move from underneath the dirt as he yawns. His arms raise to stretch in front of him, the mummy taking one step out of his box.

You can only stand in shock as you watch what happens in front of you. You had to be dreaming. There was no way you were actually awake witnessing a dead king coming to life in front of you. This had to be some sort of sick joke from Yoongi for calling him short. Maybe Johnny for calling him out in front of that group of fourth graders. Someone has to be messing with you.

The mummy turns his head to you and your breath hitches. You’ve never wanted to have seen The Mummy so much in one moment than this one, wishing you knew what exactly to do in this situation. You wish your feet would move, but they’re planted so firmly to the ground that they feel more like cement than limbs.

The monster before you takes a step in your direction, and you scream. You will yourself to move back, but you can’t stop yourself from stumbling over your own feet. You trip and land on your bottom, your body not even registering the pain as you attempt to scoot back away from the danger that continues to follow after you.

Every step he takes is another scream that releases from your lungs, your fear getting the best of you. It isn’t until your back hits the large display case that helps to divide the room that you realize you have nowhere else to go. You turn your head away, preparing yourself for whatever is about to come.

But nothing does.

You take a peek at the tall being before you and notice that he’s stopped moving, towering over your cowering form with his head tilted. His mouth opens and sounds come out, but his speech is muffled by the bandages. He seems to realize this though as his bandaged hands fly to his face.

You watch him pat around his face and neck until he finds a loose cloth, pulling it out and beginning the process of unwrapping his face. You watch in horror, unsure if the image before you will haunt you forever or not. To see what’s left of a 1,000 year old decomposed body that’s been “preserved” was something you never thought you would ever have to bear witness to. Hopefully, your therapist for this experience will understand.

If you get that far.

However, you weren’t expecting to see a full head of healthy brown hair appear as he went, nor did you expect to see healthy, tanned skin be freed from the confines as well. Brown eyes meet yours and a smile is uncovered, “Hello.”

“Hi...” You blink rapidly, hoping if you do it enough times your vision will clear, but the man in front of you still half-covered in gauze doesn’t disappear. You shake your head, “Am I awake?”

“You are as awake as I am.” He says with a pleasant smile.

“That’s not a very reassuring answer...” You can’t help but stare at him in awe and wonder just how this was happening. Of course, Taehyung had told you countless times about this supposed curse or whatever it was, but you thought it was all just a hoax your ancestors believed in. There is no possible way that you are actually awake and experiencing reincarnation or rebirth or whatever this is firsthand.

“Ow!” You feel a pinch on your calf, pulling you from your thoughts and back to the matter at hand. Or more specifically, the person before you.

“Well, did you feel that?” He asks. In your dazed state, you hadn’t noticed the man bend to your level and reach out to pinch you with rag covered fingers. The dust and mold leave a stain on your work pants and you can’t help but frown in disgust, “Yeah. Yeah, unfortunately I did.”

“You must be frightened and confused. Allow me to introduce myself-” He bows his head to you from where he kneels on the floor, “-I am King Kim Namjoon of Korea.” He looks back up and smiles bright, showcasing his dimples, “It is my pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.”

You tilt your head in confusion at his choice of words, “I’m sorry, you’ve been waiting for me? I don’t understand.”

“Are you not aware of our bond?” He asks, tilting his own head to the side.

Of course you know about his bond, it’s all that Taehyung has ever told you about! His necklace was gifted by the moon goddess so that when his soulmate touches it, he’ll wake up and they’l-

It takes you a moment to realize that he believes you to be his long lost soulmate, and you’re ready to spiral into another frenzy when you do, “No…”

Soulmates aren’t real. Nobody just walks around and bumps into their soulmate on the street. They don’t hear their voice in the back of their heads. They don’t wait over 1,000 years to be matched with a fucking dead guy.

“No.” You repeat, more confident in yourself.

“I understand you may be confused as to what this all must mean, but I’ll explain it to you-” Namjoon tries to reach out to you again, but you’re quick to push him away this time.

You stand from the floor in a rush and take two steps towards the center of the room where the two display cases separate and show a clear path to the exhibit’s only exit, “No, you won’t. Please return to your box.”

He stands up after you but stops when he sees you step back again, “But we’re destined to be together!”

“Destiny isn’t real! This-” You gesture with both hands from you to him, “-isn’t real!”

“Our bond is as real as you and I!” He argues. You can feel the want and passion dripping from his voice. It isn’t hard to tell how much he truly believes you’re his soulmate, but he’s dead wrong - no pun intended. “I’ve spent so long waiting for you.”

“Nope.” It didn’t matter how many times he flashes you that lovestruck look. Soulmates weren’t real, and whatever is going on in front of you isn’t real either, “This isn’t happening.” You turn away from him, resorting to pacing out your frustrations instead of voicing them.

Namjoon watches you with a disappointed frown and slumped shoulders, “Well, this isn’t how this was supposed to happen.” He mumbles.

You attempt to calm your breathing, pleading with your rationale to find some way - any way - to explain what’s happening. The whole interaction felt like a crazy fever dream that manifested on the worst day of a cold. They’re always weird, but they’re never this realistic.

You turn back around to address the not-so-dead king and yelp when you see him pulling at his wrap, “What are you doing?!” You ask as he tugs and pulls at the rotten fabric.

Namjoon looks up, pausing his ministrations to give you an answer, “I’m removing these incessant wrappings.”

He returns to his unwrapping, leaving you to watch him as he goes. He wasn’t naked - thankfully - but you weren’t prepared for him to immediately unwrap himself. In all honesty, you wanted him to wrap himself back up and return to his box. Fortunately for you, under his wrappings he wears a loose white shirt and loose tan pants, his shoes long forgotten.

When he finally frees himself, he takes a moment to look around the room. His gaze trails over the walls, “What is this place? Why are we not in my tomb?”

“You’re in a museum.” You explain, watching closely to gauge his reaction. In a way, he wasn’t really that old in retrospect, but you doubt he’d seen a museum before.

He turns to look at you, just as confused as you expected him to be, “What is that?”

You shrug, “It’s a place where people go to see old things and art.”

Namjoon breaks into a smile, a red tint coloring his cheeks, “I wouldn’t say I’m art.”

“I didn’t.” You say, causing Namjoon’s face to drop just the slightest.

He’s quick to mask his disappointment with a polite smile. Turning to the side of the case he stands on, he looks back to the exhibit around him. He looks up and his eyes trail over the lights above him, “What dynasty is this?” He asks.

“Uh...the capitalist dynasty?” You reply, unsure of what you would call this era of time. Namjoon looks confused and you sigh, “You’re in the 21st century.”

“Fascinating…” He takes a long look over the glass case a few feet in front of him - the one that holds the crown made for his queen - before he moves forward, reaches out, and swipes a hand over top of it, collecting a thin sheen of dust on his fingertips.

“Don’t do that!” You rush forward and grab his wrist, pulling it away in fear of the alarm going off. Anybody who even got too close to it should set it off, yet no siren wails at his touch. The alarms had been set by Hoseok himself, so they have to be broken if neither of you were setting it off, “What…?”

“Can I have my arm back, or is this a new rude custom I’m unaware of?” Namjoon asks, staring at the place on his wrist your hand holds hostage.

“No, just-...” You release his arm and take a breath as a poor attempt to remain calm, “-just don’t touch anything.”

“We’ll need to touch the case to get your necklace so we can return to my home together.” He says as if what he suggested was completely normal for him.

You’re once again taken aback by his words, unsure if you heard him correctly or not, “I’m sorry?” You ask.

“We’re soulmates,” He explains, “It’s only natural for you to come live with me, so we can spend our days together.”

“We will not be going anywhere together!” You tell him. You step forward and grab him by the shoulders, turning him around so he faces his sarcophagus. You attempt to push him, “You will be staying here in your box, and you’re going to go back to sleep.”

Namjoon fights against your attempts, digging his feet into the hardwood floor beneath him. He scowls at the realization of what you’re trying to do, “Did you not hear what I said earlier? You are my destined lover. That’s how this is supposed to work!”

“And I told you that destiny isn’t real!” You argue, now using your shoulder to push all of your weight against him.

Namjoon turns to face you, causing you to lose your balance and fall forward. Namjoon grabs your arms before you can fall to the floor, using this opportunity to hold you close, “Is my life not enough proof for you?”

Dark brown eyes bore into your own, his sincerity written all over his features. You can tell he’s hurt, but you can’t help but continue to fight against him, “I don’t know! I’m still trying to process everything that’s happening right now!”

“As soon as we leave, I will explain everything to you in much greater detail.” He says, now offering a smile. However, leaving with him is the last thing you wish to do.

You push away from him and take a few steps back towards the exhibit's entrance, “We are not leaving.”

“I am a king, I have wealth beyond your wildest dreams! I can take care of you and it is my job to do so.” He reaches out and takes you by your wrist, “We’re going!”

“I don’t even know you!” You yell, pulling your arm away from him once more and stepping closer towards the exit behind you.

Namjoon looks annoyed, but he takes a deep breath before he continues to try and pursued you, “Why don’t you allow us to get to know each other then? At least tell me your name.”

“Just-” You pause, unsure of what you should even do. You take a few more steps back and he follows, “Stay there!” You demand, raising a finger to him. He does as told - whether he wishes to or not - and allows you to take a few more steps back until you catch sight of the gate in your peripherals. As long as he stays where he is, you could slip out without him, “Good.”

Namjoon, however, takes offense to you keeping your distance from him. This was no way to treat a king, especially ‘your’ king nonetheless, “Do not speak to me as if I am a child! I am a king, may I remind you.”

“You may. But may I also remind you that your rule ended over 1,000 years ago and you no longer hold any power.” You say, watching the frown on his features deepen into a scowl. With every minute that passes, his calm exterior continues to break, showing you his true nature. You take this moment of weakness against him and reach for his exhibit key on your belt, “I, however, am in charge of this museum after hours, so you have to listen to me.”

“I am a man-” He tries to argue, but you’re quick to shut his misogyny down.

“-And I am a woman,” You retort, thumbing through the labeled keys. Hoseok always made fun of you for trying to organize them, but it looks like the jokes on him. Not that he would really believe you if you told him.

“Your man card doesn’t work in this age, so try something else, your highness~” You tease.

Namjoon crosses his arms over his chest and glares, “You have quite the tongue when you’re not screaming.”

“Thank you, I get it from my grandmother. Now-” You slip through the crack you left in the gate and pull it close, pulling his key from it’s retractable clip and locking him in, “-go back to sleep.”

He blinks a few times before he moves towards you. He places his hands on the bars and pulls at them, but they don’t budge under him. His eyes widen in shock and he turns to you, “Did you just lock me in here?”

“I did.” You nod, smug smile and all.

“Unlock it. Now.” He demands, tightening his hold on the bars.

“Hm…” You pretend to contemplate his request, tapping a finger against your chin before you come to a fake decision, “No.”

“You insolent girl!” Namjoon yells, banging his fists against the gate that holds him.

You step back with wide eyes, stunned by his sudden outburst. You knew you were making him angry, but not this angry, “Wow, that’s one way to talk to your apparent soulmate.”

“I’ve been pleasant long enough! It’s time for you to accept the truth and let. Me. Out!” He demands.

You shake your head, “I don’t think I will.”

“You’re being unreasonable.” He huffs.

Staring at him through the bars, you take in his features. He’s angry, that much is clear. But there’s something else about him that just seems more hurt than anything. You don’t want to feel bad for him, but you have to give him credit where it’s due.

You release an exasperated sigh, “Look, I’m sorry, okay? This is probably hard for you and...a fever dream for me-” Fever dream is perhaps the most lax way to describe this experience, “-but I think your necklace chose the wrong person.”

Namjoon stiffens and he almost looks offended at your assumption, “The moon goddess is never wrong.”

“Well, this time she is,” You insist.

“So what do you expect me to do?” He asks.

You shrug, “I’d prefer it if you went back into your box.”

“You want me to live my life in a box? After I’ve already spent so much time in it?!” He asks.

“Yes! No...I-” You’re unsure of what to say. On one hand, you feel a bit guilty asking him to return to a box he’s spent 1,000 years in. He died once, believing that when he woke he’d be greeted by his one true love. Instead he woke up to you screaming at him.

But on the other hand, he was supposed to be dead.

You sigh, “I don’t know what I want, but I can’t deal with-...” You raise your hands, grasping at the air before gesturing to him, “-this.”

The king looks offended, but he holds his tongue. Instead he crosses his arms and straightens his posture, “Well, I will not be going back in that box.”

“Wha-?” You cut yourself off, in disbelief of this man’s stubbornness. You huff, “Then go find your palace or wherever you lived before!”

He shakes his head, “I won’t leave if you refuse to leave with me.”

“Then you better get used to your view, because this is all you’ll be seeing!” You state, finally having enough of him. You turn on your heel and begin to walk away, something you should have done when you first came up to the exhibit.

“You’ll come to realize that our intertwined fates will not go away just because you wish them to!” He calls after you, his voice echoing off the walls around you, “And then you’ll be crawling back to me!”

When you continue walking and refuse to answer him, he yells again, “At least let me explore!”

“Not happening!” You call over your shoulder.

“This is humiliating! You can’t do this!” You hear him rattling the gate again, but you pay him no mind. “Come back here, you insolent child!”

You bypass every other exhibit that you were supposed to check, instead rushing back to the safety of your office. Once you’re in you bolt the door behind you, just in case anything else in the building decided it needed to come to life as well. You drop yourself in your office chair and take a moment to yourself, giving yourself time to take in all of the events that just transpired.

The mummy from the new exhibit just came to life, you were somehow able to talk to him without passing out, he thinks you’re his soulmate, and now he’s upset with you because you locked him in his exhibit that he shouldn’t be freely roaming in.

You turn to your monitor and switch through feeds until you find Namjoon’s exhibit. He’s still standing by the closed gate, his hands slipped through the bars to try and fiddle with the lock. His posture that he once held with you is lacking, not as pristine as it was before. You can’t help but watch him with pity as his attempts to get out continue to fail.

But you can’t bring yourself to go back before the night ends.

30 minutes before the morning shift was due to come in, you use the intercom to tell Namjoon he’d have to return to his sarcophagus for the day. You couldn’t hear him, but you didn’t need a microphone to know he was not only confused but also very unhappy about that. You managed to convince him by informing him they would take him away to rot in a cell without you if he didn’t, and that seemed to kick him into gear.

Thankfully, he didn’t need your help making it back to his bed or putting the cover on top. You were not about to go down to his exhibit. Especially when the room itself looked completely untouched on the camera. The ropes that had been torn from the wall were back in their place as if nothing had ever happened, and the wrappings the King decided to discard were nowhere to be seen.

After that, you sat and waited for the morning shift to come and take over for you. You said good morning to all of your coworkers, and then you left. You went home and you went to bed, but waking again didn’t feel like a new experience. The looming feeling of knowing what awaits when you get to work again haunts you until your once again clearing the exhibits for the night.

You make it to the exhibit that has weighed you down for the past 12 hours and you hesitate to step inside. Clearing the room and locking it up will start the night, and then you’re left with the chances of seeing him again. Seeing him again means that everything you saw last night wasn’t a joke, and that you really have a living mummy in your museum.

What’s worse is he thinks you're his true love.

You come across Taehyung, once again sitting on the bench in front of the king’s sarcophagus. He wears a loose white button down and a pair of black dress pants, balancing a sketch pad on his thigh. He attempts to draw the exhibits main attraction with the altar that took weeks to create. If only he knew the object of his affections was alive and well only 15 feet away from him.

“Having fun there?” You ask, sitting next to the fashionable curator.

He takes a moment to answer, defining a line on his paper before he acknowledges you, “I always do when I’m here with Namjoon-hyung.” You roll your eyes at his use of ‘hyung’ and he chuckles. He turns his attention back to his paper, “Did you have a good rest of your night?”

You feel every bone in your body tense at the mention of the previous night. Last night was almost an out of body experience for you, and there was no real way to describe what you went through.

You shrug, “It was okay, same old same old.”

“That’s good! I’m glad you’re doing well here on your own at night.” He looks up from his shading and sets his pencil down, his expression becoming somber, “It must be hard without Chanyeol.”

“Yeah, it can be...” Working without Chanyeol really wasn’t any worse than working together. The only thing is now your new coworker is a 1,000 year old un-dead guy, but that’s a little much to explain, “But it’s fine! It really isn’t that strenuous on me at all.”

He smiles at your response and turns to look at his drawing, “I guess I’m holding you up aren’t I?”

You want to tell him more than anything that today you want him to stay just a little longer. Today is the day you want to hear all about every exhibit in the museum. More than anything, you just don’t want to face Namjoon alone, but no one would believe you if you told them the truth. So instead, you hum in agreement.

“Alright, I’ll get out of here. I’ll see you tomorrow!” Once again, you watch him pack up and dance his way out of the exhibit. Only today you follow close behind, locking the king’s exhibit and rushing to the next - much more normal - exhibit.

---

It’s surreal to watch Namjoon through a screen. Sure, seeing him the other night was an experience, but to see that your eyes aren’t playing tricks on you is another trip entirely! With Namjoon truly existing, that leads you to really question his claims. You did touch the necklace, but so had plenty of others. Not to mention, it took him almost 3 hours after you’d touched it to wake up, so who’s to say that Taehyung isn’t his true soulmate? Even Yoongi could be!

Anyone but you.

He’s much more different now that he’s ‘chilled out’ from last night’s events. He’s no longer pacing back and forth or banging on his exhibit’s gate - though he has tried to pull it open once or twice. Now, he just sits on the bench where you had sat with Taehyung, only he sits facing away from his final resting place.

He looks to be in deep thought, as if he’s contemplating something as he stares ahead of him. You like him better this way, calm and quiet instead of trying too hard to convince you to run away with him. This king you could babysit until he fell back asleep as he should’ve been in the first place.

With him seemingly content, you allow yourself to work on other things you’d normally do throughout the night. You mainly focus on the online coursework you didn’t get done due to the distraction on the screen in front of you, organizing your office in between assignments. You don’t really pay any mind to your cameras until you catch movement coming from Namjoon’s.

On the screen, he appears to be waving his arms and yelling, resembling those people you see on TV when someone gets injured. You can’t help but sigh. You’ve been putting off your rounds just so you wouldn’t have to go by his exhibit for him to accost you, now you didn’t have a choice but to go see what was troubling him before he broke something.

You grab your flashlight and tuck it into its place on your belt clip, leaving the safety of your office to see what his majesty so desperately needs from you. It must be desperate if he’s yelling for the entire city to hear. You quicken your pace to get there faster, hopefully before anybody besides you has the chance to hear his cries.

“Soulmate!” He yells, his voice clear as day as you reach level 3, “Come here! I demand your presence!”

“If you don’t stop yelling for everyone to hear you, then I’m going to turn around and leave you alone!” You yell back, assuming he hears you when the yelling doesn’t continue. You make it to the gate of his exhibit and find him waiting for you with his arms crossed, no longer as relaxed as he was when the night began.

“What?” You ask, stopping in front of him.

He doesn’t give you the pleasure of knowing right away. Instead, he looks you up and down with a hard glare, “You didn’t bring me food.”

“That’s what you’re yelling about?” You ask in disbelief.

Namjoon takes offense to your indifference, “Yes! For your information, I am very hungry for someone who hasn’t eaten in over 1,000 years.”

In hindsight, you’d most likely be a little angry too if you hadn’t eaten in so long as well - though it’s not really an excuse for his behavior last night. But explaining why an unconscious guy was chilling on the floor of a locked exhibit with security footage showing him coming out of the sarcophagus would not be fun for anyone involved.

“I’ll be right back.” You leave him to run back to the break room, grabbing the prepackaged lunch you had bought for yourself, a pair of disposable chopsticks, and a banana milk that you kept stashed behind Hoseok’s forgotten lunchbox before heading back up.

Namjoon gives you a strange look when you come back, his eyes trained on the box in your hand, “What is that?”

“It was my lunch, but you probably need this more than me.” You look for the key to his exhibit on your belt, sifting through until you find the right label and pull it up to unlock the gate. You pause before turning the lock, “Move back to the case.”

“Really?” Namjoon asks, his eyes narrowed in a glare. You return your own glare until he finally gives in and takes the steps back to the case as you asked him to, “Happy?”

You nod and turn the lock over, opening the gate and slipping inside with the food you brought for him. You hand him the lunchbox and the milk before you reach into your back pocket for the chopsticks, “Sorry if it’s not what you’re used to, but this is all I’ve got-”

“-There’s no need.” He raises a hand to stop you - an action that irks you to no end - and sits on the floor with the food you’ve given him. You watch as he struggles with the tape that holds it together, holding back your laughter when he manages to get it off the box and stuck to his fingers instead. He seems to relax when he rubs it off on the floor, but his next challenge comes when he opens the packet of chopsticks and there’s only one inside, “What this?!”

“I’m going to assume you’ve never seen this before.” You bend down to his level to take the chopsticks from him, holding each one and pulling them apart to create two, perfectly good chopsticks. You bite back a laugh when you see the amazement written across Namjoon’s face, “Pretty cool, yeah?”

“Very…” He says. You hand him the chopsticks, watching with amusement as he tries to fit them back together. One drops and he fumbles to catch it before he realizes you’re still watching him, quickly using the utensils to shove food in his mouth as a distraction.

“Here.” Not wanting him to embarrass himself further, you take his banana milk and open it for him, setting it beside him while he eats. He takes a moment to take a sip and his eyes widen in surprise.

“What is this?” He asks, holding the bottle close to his face to inspect the label.

You shrug, “It’s just banana milk.”

“Well, it tastes fantastic!” He tilts his head back and chugs the rest of it, wiping his mouth before turning back to you with the same expression of a puppy ready to play, “Is there more?”

“Uh…” You hesitate to answer, afraid he’ll try to boss you around again, “Yeah, we do.”

“Bring me-!” He stops when he sees your expression sour. Instead, he clears his throat and bows his head, “If you wouldn’t mind, could I please have another?”

“Sure thing.” You smile, and he smiles back. It wasn’t much, but it felt like an understanding after the fiasco that happened the night before.

So, you rush back while he continues eating, grabbing two more banana milks and a bag of chips for you to munch on yourself. When you come back, you’re not surprised to see that he’s finished his food and left the box laying on the floor with the empty milk container. You want to be upset with him for just leaving his trash lying around, but it’s hard to be mad at him when he’s trying so hard to work the kiosk.

“This infernal contraption doesn’t work!” He yells, hitting the top of it as if that would somehow make it work. Of course, he’s not the only person to try this - you’ve seen many middle aged men try to do the same thing when you close - but it would only prove to break if he didn’t dial it back.

“Don’t do that!” You rush to his side and push his hands away, blocking him from touching the kiosk any more. “You can’t just hit things and expect them to work. That’s not how people solve their problems.”

“Well, it doesn’t have a mouth, so how am I supposed to talk to it?” He questions.

“Okay…” You heave a sigh and grab the headphones that rest on the kiosk’s base, a pair for you and a pair for Namjoon. You place yours on your head and then move to place Namjoon’s over his ears. He flinches away from your touch and you pull back a bit, “It’s okay, I’m just going to show you how this works.”

He relaxes, bowing his head so you can place the headphones over his ears. Once they’re well adjusted, you tap the screen of the kiosk to bring it to life. You read through the options designed for the exhibit, choosing to let it read through information about Namjoon himself.

“The Kim Dynasty-” The woman’s voice fills both of your ears, scaring Namjoon so much that he jumps back and his headphones clang to the floor.

His scared expression is priceless, eyes wide and hands raised to defend himself. You laugh, picking up his headphones and extending them to him, “That’s supposed to happen.”

“How is it doing that? Is there a woman trapped in each of these?” He asks, eyeing the other kiosks that line the wall beside the one you share.

You shake your head, “It’s called a recording. They made a copy of her voice and put it in here so the people that come here can learn more about you.”

“Oh…” He accepts your answer and the headphones in your hand, “I see the moon goddess has been very busy.”

“Here.” You grab his hand and fix it so his pointer finger sticks out, guiding his hand so it presses lightly against the glass to select a different option. A new section of Namjoon’s life begins to play and Namjoon seems impressed by the ‘power’ he holds in one appendage. “This is called a touch-screen. You just have to tap the buttons on the screen and it’ll change.”

He nods, staring intently at the screen before him. He tilts his head and taps the little home button at the top left, surprised when the screen changes from a video to the screen it started on. He smiles, his dimples popping out as he chooses another option, “This is amazing!”

His smile is infectious, as well as his eagerness to learn more about the technology in front of him, “I’ll just leave you to play with that for a bit, I have a job to do.”

“Yes! Okay.” He waves you off, paying more attention to the kiosk than to you.

You lock the gate behind you when you leave, though it doesn’t seem like Namjoon even took notice of either action. Even after you rush through your duties to come back to him sooner, he’s still playing with the same kiosk with a child’s enthusiasm.

“You’re really enjoying yourself.” You muse, standing off to the side behind him.

Namjoon nods, his fingers still dancing across the screen, “This technology is amazing! If only we had this in my dynasty. I can only imagine the advantages we would have had.”

You nod in agreement, “Yeah, it definitely comes in handy. Though, a lot of people believe it’s made us weaker as a society.”

“I can see why. Everything I could ever want to know about myself is right here at my fingertips,” He says, scrolling through the different options he could look through. He comes across a picture of himself and grimaces, “I wish they would have used a different portrait.”

You chuckle in amusement, “Well, if you’re not having my trouble, then I‘m going to get back to my office.” You go to leave the room again when Namjoon grabs you by the arm.

“Wait!” He yells, pulling you back to him. It takes him a second to realize what he did before he let’s go, “Sorry!”

“It’s fine.” You mumble.

“I just-...” The king pauses, taking a moment to collect himself, “I wanted to know if I could look at more exhibits tomorrow?”

His eyes look down into yours, so hopeful for a good answer. You’re unsure, “I don’t know…” You want to say yes to him, but there’s so much at stake if you were to let him walk around on his own. Granted, he couldn’t trip the alarms, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t break anything.

“I won’t touch anything, I swear!” He promises, both of his hands reaching out to take your own. He holds them to his chest, lightly cradling against the fabric of his shirt as he begs you, “I just don’t want to spend the rest of my time sitting in this room when there’s so much more around me.”

That gets you.

If there was one thing you could understand, it was being somewhere new with so much knowledge that you just had to know more. For someone like Namjoon, this was more than that. He had a whole world to try to come to terms with, and he was standing in the best place to do so. If you denied him that, then would you be able to deal with it?

“Tomorrow.” You say, “I’ll let you explore the museum tomorrow.”

Namjoon’s eyes light up and it looks like a weight is lifted right off of his shoulders. He doesn’t hesitate to bow to you, “Thank you, soulmate.”

“It’s not the whole museum!” You add quickly, “And my name is (Y/n).” He seems unhappy at first, but he does eventually nod to give his thanks where it was due. You give a polite bow back, “You’re welcome.”

The next night comes all too quickly for you. Leaving him alone to explore was more than nerve wracking. You were probably out of your mind for even considering letting him out on his own, let alone trusting him in the first place. Sitting in your office you’d check the camera’s every few minutes just to be sure he was still in the hall, or you’d pinpoint his last location and make your final round of the museum according to how he’d walk through the halls.

That first night, Namjoon only went through his exhibit and the rest of level 3. Occasionally you’d catch him playing with a water fountain on the camera’s in front of the bathroom. Another time you caught him turning towards a planter and you quickly changed screens, reminding yourself to open a bathroom for him for the next night.

As two more nights pass, you notice his want to get closer to the exhibits than to just sit on the outside. More often than not, you caught him with his face pressed against the metal bars trying to get a closer look at everything. It wasn’t hard to tell that he wanted to be in the room with the art itself, but a part of you is still worried to let him have that extra inch.

It’s only on the 5th night when Taehyung takes notice of your woes that you change your mind.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, leaning over himself on the bench to look at you. You sit with your hands in your lap just staring at Namjoon in front of you, wondering if you can really trust him to continue keeping his word. You don’t notice Taehyung, nor do you hear his question. He rolls his eyes and taps your knee twice, “Hey!”

“Huh?” You blink away your thoughts and turn your attention to him. Unaware of what he asked, you tilt your head in confusion, “What?”

Taehyung hums to himself and nods, “I’m right, something is wrong with you.”

“What do you mean something’s wrong with me?” You ask defensively.

Taehyung sighs and shows you his watch, showing you that it’s 5 minutes past weekday closing time, “This is the longest you’ve let me sit here rambling to myself. 10 minutes past our normal time!”

You shake your head, content to push him away, “I’m just a bit distracted, that’s all.”

“By what? Is it a work problem? Family troubles? You can tell me, I’ll listen!” He assures you.

You have no doubt in your mind that he will listen to you, but how do you explain your situation is the real problem at hand. There were only so many excuses in the world, and if you weren’t careful you might get yourself fired just for using a bad analogy.

You weigh your options and sigh, “My niece - she’s really little and way too rambunctious to come here - really wants to come and see the art on display. I want her to come see where I work because I know she likes the art, but I know my sister is worried about her breaking something or causing a scene.”

“Hmm...I see.” Taehyung hums, not showing any sign of suspicion against you. He really thinks about your ‘concern’ before he comes to a conclusion. “I think she should come and see.”

“Really?” You ask.

He nods, “Yeah! It’s best to let children experience art and it’s creativity for themselves! Even young children have an eye for art, and those who truly appreciate it only want to see it up close to see every detail.”

“I guess that does make sense…” Thinking about it, he does have a point. Namjoon may be from a different moment in time, but he’s still a grown adult.

Taehyung seems to sense your uncertainty and places a calming hand on your knee, “Art isn’t meant to be viewed from afar. It’s made to make us feel emotion.” He explains, “Even the most unlikely of patrons can find something that makes them appreciate art.”

Even after your talk is finished and you’ve left Namjoon’s exhibit unlocked for him to let himself out, you’re still debating your next course of action. There’s a big risk in letting him roam through the exhibits, but you can’t in good conscience let him sit around doing nothing forever.

You find Namjoon on level 4, his face pressed against the bars of the Apparel Through the Ages exhibit. You sneak up behind him and clear your throat, “Good evening, your highness.”

Namjoon stumbles back, not expecting you to be there. It’s amusing to watch him scramble into a more respectable position with his hands behind his back. He glances your way, “Have you come around already?”

“No, I haven’t,” You say. You pull at the keys on your belt and jingle them, “I’ve come to open an exhibit for you.”

“What?” He’s surprised, “Will you really?”

“Someone told me that those who appreciate art want to take in all the details they can.” It didn’t take a genius to see that Namjoon wants to see more than he can see at the exhibit’s gates. An old soul like his could probably use some new perspective, “You choose the exhibit and I’ll unlock it.”

“Any of them?” He asks.

You nod, “Just lead the way.”

The light in his eyes that you saw the night before comes back and it relaxes you for some reason. Even as he takes your wrist to lead you down the hall to the exhibit he wants to see, it’s as if he’s two different people. It’s almost confusing how quickly his demeanor changes with you. When he doesn’t get what he wants, he becomes a child. Yet the moment you offer something new - something for him to learn about - it’s as if he’s just a child at heart.

When you open the Animal Kingdom exhibit on level 2 for him you’re thrown for another loop. He only gives you a simple thanks and walks away, leaving you to question if he’s just inherently an asshole or if he’s just petty. Even as you come back around from your rounds to close up for the night, he still seems to flip back and forth with his own personality and his thanks.

You go home that morning confused and on a mission. You throw the notion of sleep out the window and settle onto your couch with a cup of coffee and your laptop, determined to know more about this so-called King that intends to ruin your life little by little.

A simple Google search brings you many results, ranging in portraits and newspaper articles to biographies written by renowned historians. You click on the first link available, taking you to a page drowning in photos and art. It would seem that even in life, Namjoon enjoyed surrounding himself with art.

His portraits were absolutely breathtaking - you could understand his disappointment now that you’ve seen more than just the one - and the pictures they showcase of his palace are surrounded in flowers and gorgeous statement pieces littered across the grounds. It’s surprising to read that they’ve remained there for so long without any disturbances. You would have thought they’d taken one or two lawn pieces like they had taken Namjoon, yet they remain in their home without any signs of distress to them.

You take another long sip of coffee and move onto another page, checking out a more informative website. This one goes into detail about his life as a prince and as a king. You discover that he became king at the young age of 17 when his parents sadly passed away during an ambush to the throne. Apparently, he changed over half of the Kingdom’s laws the very next day and saw to every change in policy himself. It only took him 3 months to get the people of his kingdom to trust in him and his guidance, which - according to the article - was a big feat for his time.

You’re surprised to read about his contributions to his people. He strongly encouraged his people to progress forward and bring him their concerns, he housed over 30 children in his home at one time because they had no homes to go to and he even had a sort of sanctuary for animals to be cared for under his watch. He oversaw their historians writing, ensuring that they put every detail on paper. Even his failures were written down under his careful eye, despite his power to erase them from future generations

This Namjoon was so kind and caring. He was so well educated and well-spoken, and he was loved by all of his people for his generosity and understanding nature. How is it that a man who was known for being so kind, could be the same man who bossed you around and demanded that you spend the rest of your life with him?

How is it that a guy who sounds so sweet on paper can be a total dick in real life?

* * *

After hours of research with no sleep and a cold shower to wake you up, you find yourself standing in front of Namjoon with a copy of The Little Prince tucked on top of the food you’ve brought him for the night.

Namjoon accepts the food, taking the boxed lunch with one hand so he can pick up the book with the other. He inspects it carefully, flipping it over a few times to look it over, “What’s this?”

“I did a little research on you, your highness. According to historians and the internet, you were quite the avid reader.” You’d read a lot about Namjoon, and every website you visited gave you list upon list of books read by him when he was still alive and well. They all spoke of his fascination for fantasy novels and those with deeper meanings behind them. The Little Prince seemed like a no brainer to you when it came to more relevant novels to fit his tastes. “I figured you might get bored sooner or later, so I brought you something to pass the time until you fall asleep again.”

“You know that’s not how the enchantment works, yes?” He asks.

You think about it for a moment before you reply, “No, I don’t know that. Do you?”

“I-” Namjoon is at a loss for your teasing words. Instead he frowns and turns his nose,“It doesn’t matter if I’ve seen it happen! I trust the moon goddess!”

“Mhmm, whatever you say~” You laugh, much to his annoyance. Namjoon sits down to eat his food and you take that as a sign for you to continue doing your job, “Enjoy your book and your food.”

You go to leave, but the king calls after you, “Can’t you stay here? Keep me company?”

You pause. His company wasn’t terrible, but you don’t want to stay and risk giving him a sense of false hope. He was still over 1,000 years old, and you were still a broke college student trying to pay her way through life. You’ve never been the type to play with someone’s emotions, and you weren’t going to start now.

“That’s not in my job description.” You say. You almost regret your choice when you see his sad expression, but you steel yourself, “Have a good night.”

You leave him, not coming back until you’re making a lap on your rounds. And there - sitting against one of the large display cases - sits Namjoon with the book held loosely in his hands, his face holding a look of pure concentration and a ghost of a smile. He looks so peaceful and content sitting cross-legged on the hard wood of his exhibit, you almost feel bad for asking him to return to his sarcophagus. But that night he goes willingly.

And you can’t help but notice the glow of the necklace on your way out.

---

“Hey-!” You turn your head away from the water fountain, hearing Jimin’s voice call down the already noisy hall. You spy him at the entrance of the gift shop, but his attention is on a girl passing by who’s turned to look at him as well. He holds a box in his hand, but you can’t see what’s inside from where you stand. “Have you seen our new merchandise that just came in?”

“Uh...no, I haven’t.” The girl seems slightly uncomfortable. Either from his approach from the gift shop for her to buy something, or just from a guy who looks like Jimin approaching her - you don’t know which.

You walk closer to the gift shop, curious yourself about the mystery box in Jimin’s hands.

“This - my lovely lady - is our newest piece of jewelry.” He opens the box and you catch a glimmer of silver and fuschia, “The necklace of King Kim Namjoon’s lost lover.”

Her face lights up initially when she sees it, but then her face drops and she shakes her head, “Oh, no, thank you.”

“You don’t want to buy it?” He asks. Jimin pouts and you can feel the immediate distress coming off the poor girl he’s talking to.

“It’s pretty, but it’s a little expensive…” She tries to explain her situation - whether it’s true or not - but Jimin is relentless.

He looks around the hall to make sure no one is too close to listen - all but you anyways - and gets closer to her, “But don’t you know the legend behind the necklace?”

“Of course I do! King Kim Namjoon’s soulmate is supposed to wear this necklace.” She says.

“Yes, but that’s not all!” Jimin makes a point of string into her eyes, unwilling to break their eye contact, “Legend says he prayed to the moon goddess herself to find his true love and she gifted him with her own special moonstone to guide his other half to him!”

He moves closer, so that the two are almost shoulder to shoulder just so he can give her a closer view of the product, “These pink stones are pieces of the King’s soulmate's heart, and they’ll glow brightest when his lover wears his necklace by his side!”

“Wow...that’s so romantic.” You can see her resolve breaking, and you almost feel bad for her that Jimin is the clerk on duty today.

“Do you want to know the best part?” He asks, his smile reaching his cheeks and his eyes full of mischief that resemble love almost too closely. She nods enthusiastically and Jimin brings the box closer so she can see, “This gold string that holds it altogether represents their connection to each other. It’s a bond that can’t be broken by anything in the universe.”

He carelessly throws an arm over her shoulder, just light enough to be seen as friendly. Though, it would seem the small trick is already working it’s magic on the poor thing. He squeezes her shoulder, “A lot of people believe that wearing this necklace will bring you closer to finding your own true love, so they package them with their own prayers to the moon goddess in hopes she’ll grant them eternal love as well.”

“Really?!” She asks. She looks to him as if he holds the whole universe in his hands, having been swayed by the blonde’s charm.

“Yeah!”

Just like that, you watch him lead her back to the counter and then wave her and her new treasure goodbye, holding a sticky note close to his heart.

“Should you really be lying like that?”You ask from the store’s entrance. You’re more than disappointed to see yet another girl fall for the man’s charms

Jimin shrugs, “I didn’t lie. I just stretched the truth.”

You walk up to the counter and snatch the note out of his hand, “Stretching the truth sounds a lot like lying.”

“Don’t you have a monitor to watch somewhere?” He teases. You hand him the paper back and he sticks it in his pocket, bending below the counter to grab another.

You can’t help but think about what he said, and the legend behind the real necklace. You’ve heard a lot about the real thing, but all of it usually went in one ear and out the other as myth for you. Now that you know it’s real and far from a hoax, you have so much more that you need to know.

Jimin pops back up with a stack of necklaces in his arms and sets them on the counter in front of you, pulling out a sheet of tags that go with them. You take the sheet from his hand and peel one off, handing it to him, “Can I ask you a question? About the necklace?”

“Sure, but Taehyung is the expert around here.” He says, accepting your sticker to place on the box in front of him.

“You think I don’t know that?” You laugh. You look down and peel off another one, “Is all of what you said about the necklace itself true? About the real necklace?”

“According to Taehyung it is!” He nods, not even sparing you a glance, “The moon goddess gave the King a necklace so powerful that only he and his lover could tear the bond if they chose to, but they never got the chance to meet.”

You hand him another sticker, but you stare into space as you do, “That’s...really sad.” You can’t help but think of the pain Namjoon had to go through knowing his soulmate would be by his side, but not knowing it wouldn’t be in his first lifetime. Not only that, but to wake up and then be met with someone who doesn’t even want to be his soulmate? You can’t help but think about how you’d act towards him if the roles were reversed and he were in your shoes.

You’d be devastated.

“It is.” He takes the sticker from you with one hand and flicks your forehead with the other. You flinch and pull back with your hand rubbing the spot he hit while he just smirks at you, “You would know if you ever listened to Taehyung.”

“Yeah.” You don’t even register your response before handing the sticker sheet back to Jimin and pushing off the counter, “Thanks Jimin! Have a good night, okay? Don’t call me at 2am like last week.”

“No promises~” He sings, going back to his work in front of him.

Later that night when you’re handing Namjoon his dinner, you sit with him to eat yours as well. The look Namjoon gives you as you calmly open your dinner across from him is almost too good to ignore.

“What are you doing?” He asks, slowly unboxing his own lunch.

You pay him no mind as you break apart your chopsticks to start eating, “You wanted me to keep you company, remember? Or is my presence no longer appreciated?” You pick up a clump of rice and turn your attention to him, eyebrow raised.

Namjoon is quick to shake his head and get started on his own food, “Of course it is!”

You both eat in awkward silence, neither of you quite sure how to start a normal conversation. You’ve only ever made polite talk with him, and he only ever seemed to anger you no matter what he said. The only time you were ever civil was when you would show him something new.

Namjoon swallows his food and clears his throat, “Where would you like me to escort you tonight, my lady?”

You shake your head, “First of all, don’t call me ‘your lady’ or anything else other than my name.” You warn him, pointing at the tag on your jacket. He nods and you continue with your rant, “Second, I have some rounds to do, so you can join me tonight as long as you don’t bother me too much. Understood?”

“Yes, my la-” You narrow your eyes at him and he corrects himself, “(Y/n).”

The two of you finish your food quickly with some small talk made here and there. When you’ve cleaned up, you allow Namjoon to lead you to another exhibit he’s yet to see. All the way on level 1, he wants to see art he’s more familiar with.

“So, you said you asked the moon goddess for a chance to meet your soulmate?” You ask one you’re inside the museum.

“Indeed,” Namjoon nods, listening to you as he takes in the art around him, “I prayed to her one night on a full moon and I begged her to send me a lover. Someone I could confide in and care for, and would do the same for me.”

You tilt your head in confusion, “And instead she gave you the necklace?”

“No, she gave you a way to find me.” He says, a genuine look of happiness on his face.

“Still-“ You feel a heat rising in your face and you can’t help but turn away from him out of embarrassment. Your eyes land on a painting of a couple and you feel the knife dig just a little deeper, “-you asked her for someone to rule by your side as your equal and she let fate tear you apart.”

He shrugs, “Maybe we weren’t meant to meet before now.”

His calm exterior bothers you. If you had asked for what he had, you’d be livid! He made a promise and that promise was misguided!

“How can you be so calm?” You ask, allowing your thoughts to be heard.

Namjoon stops to look at a picture of a cherry blossom in the winter, it’s petals covered in frost. He smiles, “You said you read about me from one of your current books. The internet? What do they tell you of me?”

You chuckle at his misunderstanding of what the internet truly is, “Well, the internet told me that you were a very generous and beloved king. They said you were intelligent and caring.”

He chuckles, “I’m flattered.” He looks to you with an amused smile and you elbow his side carefully, causing him to laugh, “I’m only joking!”

You roll your eyes, “Oh, sure.”

Moving on to the next painting, he follows after you, “What else did your book tell you?”

“Well, it told me about your love for the arts.” You remember the extensive biography you’d found during your research. You didn’t read it in its entirety, but you did skim through it, “I read that you would host a festival every year?”

“Yes! Just something special during the summer seasons to enlighten everyone.” He has a far away look in his eye as he recalls the fond memories of his past life, and you can only begin to wonder what a day in his life would have been like, “I’d import goods from everywhere just to have the best for my people.”

“It would seem you’re truly generous, your majesty~” You tease.

“Namjoon.” He corrects you. You give him a quizzical stare and he only smiles in return, “If I’m to call you by your more common title, then you should feel free to use mine. I am attempting to woo you after all.”

“Right.” You smile awkwardly, remembering that you were actually trying to give him a chance. You’d actually been comfortable for once, that you hadn’t even noticed just how easy it had become to talk to him.

“And to really answer your question of why I am as calm as I am,” He pauses in front of a portrait of a town under the night sky, his attention trained on the light orb in the background of the painting. “The moon goddess is lonely herself by nature, so separated from our world. Just like this portrait, we see her, but we pay her no mind.”

You stand beside him and take your own, clear look at the picture. If you would have looked at it on your own, your main focus would have been on the town and the people in the foreground. You would have glanced at the moon, but the orb and her stars were painted so faint compared to the rest of the picture.

“She came to me - and perhaps it was out of boredom for her own happiness - but she made me a promise. Promises are something I don’t take lightly.” He says. His words are spoken like a true king, but you can’t help but wonder if he himself truly means what he says.

Namjoon turns to you with a peaceful smile, “Fate works in mysterious ways, and sometimes it’s best for us to wait and see what it brings.”

He’s ready to move on and you both bask in a new found silence as you continue to walk through the exhibit, stopping occasionally at a portrait here and there. Though at every painting you stop, you can’t help but look at the man next to you.

This was the man described in everything you read. This was King Kim Namjoon at his finest, and you were privileged enough to be there.

“Did you really house orphaned children?” You ask out of the blue.

He blinks at first, registering your sudden outburst. Though, when he does realize what you’ve asked, he smiles fondly, “I did. Of all the people we should take care of, our children and our elderly are most important!”

His words are filled with passion, and you can tell he really cares about the people he’s talking about, “Our elders have shaped our generation, and we shape the generations after us. It’s only fair that we see they’re well taken care of.”

There’s a part of you that truly wishes to see what he was like as a ruler for yourself. You smile, “Well, I guess the internet doesn’t lie.”

“I suppose it doesn’t, though I’m probably not the correct person to ask.” He sheepishly admits, a light blush dusting his cheeks.

You nod in understanding. He really didn’t know much about this era or it’s advancements besides the kiosks in his exhibit. It takes you a moment, but you think of the perfect exhibit to introduce him to the 21st century.

You take his hand in yours - effectively catching him off guard - and you pull him in the direction of the exit, “Well, allow me to educate you about the world I live in.”

Namjoon doesn’t even attempt to hide his blush this time around. He only nods and allows himself to follow you, “Please.”

You lead him out of the more classic featured art section and into the Modern Art Exhibit. This exhibit starts very tame, sticking to photography and modern painting styles before it morphs into free form art sculptures in the connecting rooms.

One sculpture is made of metal and it’s shape reminds you of a round mushroom. It's definitely interesting, but you don’t necessarily understand it’s appeal. It would seem Namjoon is confused as well.

“This is art?” He asks, his head tilted to the side as he follows his distorted reflection.

“It is.” You assure him. You had a feeling he wouldn’t get it either, you just wanted to show him what he was missing. You sigh, “I don’t really understand it either so don’t fe-”

“It’s so intriguing.” Namjoon says, cutting you off.

“I’m sorry?” You ask, slightly confused.

“The structure and the colors, they’re so complimentary to the other! I don’t want to look away.” His entire being is completely enraptured with the piece in front of him. It’s so simple, yet his eye contact doesn’t break from his reflection. “I feel as though I am in a trance.”

You squeeze his hand - not even caring that your hands are still connected, “Well, there’s much more of this to see.”

A look of pure joy and elation blossoms on Namjoon’s face and you feel a faint flutter in your heart. You’d never noticed how bright his eyes shine until now, nor did you notice just how cute his dimples really were.

Are you really falling for him?

~ Read: Part 2 ~

149 notes · View notes

lydias--stiles · 3 years

Text

baby, you ain't being slick

juke | human!au + strangers | title: juice // lizzo

He didn’t want to be here. Alas, his friends could be persuasive if they wanted to.

After a shit day in the studio, another rejection letter from agencies all around, contrived lyrics scratched on lined paper and one sugar crash, Alex and Reggie decided to go to a karaoke bar. Of all places they could go to take the edge off, they decide on an establishment that would literally be his cause of death. Luke despised karaoke bars. Why listen to drunk people blabber lyrics they didn’t know (nor cared about) into a shitty mic at two am while sipping on an equally shitty margarita? Why torture himself with music when music itself was kicking his butt as of late?

But then Alex told him mocking drunk people was fun and Reggie begged for a chance to sing ABBA, so Luke couldn’t refuse. He already acted like a douche enough today.

So there he sat, on a barstool at Neon Affluenza on a Wednesday night peering into the aforementioned shitty margarita. The place recently opened and has gotten pretty good reviews, Luke quietly admitting that the vibe of the bar was pretty dope. Dark walls and black hardfloor flooring, dimmed lights and purple LED giving everyone a mysterious glow. The stage was small, as usual, with an underpaid DJ on the side playing the tracks. It was packed, loud chatter and clinking glasses overpowering the slurring words of the heavy-lidded, burly man onstage working his way through a Céline Dion track. Luke wondered for a second if the singer thought about how many people butchered her song and brought slander to her name every second of the night in all the karaoke bars all over the world. Oh well. At least she had a record deal and, you know, any significance.

Alex sat next to him, grinning face illuminated as he texted Willie, as Luke lazily let his gaze drift across the room. The man has stopped and gotten a weak applause, the next person ascending the stage and singing - Jesus fucking Christ, kill him now - “Firework” by Katy Perry. This night truly was the worst.

It didn’t help that for some reason, three girls have come up to him. Was this an ongoing bet from one friend group or something? To see which one of the girls could crack him? Any other night, he would’ve relished the attention, maybe even chatted one up enough to go home with. Flirting was second nature to Luke. The third girl was his type too! When he rejected her avances, she just shrugged and continued her way to Reggie. Which, he must admit, was a pretty confident move on her part. Regardless - Luke wasn’t in the mood and nothing, or no one, would change that. (Maybe he could sneak back to the studio...)

“Excuse me-” A female voice called out, tapping his arm.

He rolled his eyes. “Not interested.”

She scoffed. “You’re sitting on my jacket, asshole.”

Turning to face her, he froze for a beat. His unimpressed glare turned surprised at how pretty she was. Like, “double take on the street”-pretty. If he thought the girl from before was his type, he was mistaken. This was his type. She regarded him with minimal interest, brows raised and arms crossed.

“So?”

His reply stuttered out slowly. “Uh... huh?” Awesome. He was twenty-three and unable to speak to a pretty girl like some pimply eleven year old playing spin the bottle for the first time.

She tugged on his stool and - oh. The stool wasn’t leather, it was suede. He was sitting on her leather jacket. Shit. He terribly hoped he didn’t have butt sweat, or else mortification would take him out and not the piercing belt of the drunk singer. Either way, he embarrassed himself.

“Shit!” He rushed from his chair and held the garment out for her. “Sorry!”

With a sneer, she grabbed it from his grasp, fingers brushing and letting heat ripple up his arm. Holy shit. Yup. The night took a turn. He had to know who she was.

She pulled the jacket on. “Thanks, I guess...” Just as she was about to disappear back in the throng of drunkards, he called out for her.

“Uh, hey! I didn’t get a name!”

The girl turned around, an amused - hella attractive - expression flitting across her face (damn, in what factory did they make her?), and tracked his body with her eyes. Instinctively fixing his slouch, he hoped she was into that punk-rocker aesthetic. That jacket was sort of a clue, right?

An ironic smile tugged on her lips. ��Thought you weren’t interested, loverboy.”

Oh, fuck. His flirting game found their match and it was wrapped around a 5′4 girl with glossy curls and eyes glinting with challenge. Luke recovered as fast as he could from his whiplash and swaggered over to her, a charming smirk falling on his lips - the one he so often pulled to make the front row fawn. The girl didn’t look away, raising her chin to level his intensity. A giddy feeling spread in his chest. This could be fun.

“That’s before I knew the leather jacket belonged to a pretty face like yours, princess.”

“Trust me,” she laughed, also attractive. Everything about her was fucking enigmatic. “I’m not a princess.”

He tried again. “What’s your name?”

“What’s yours?”, she shot back.

He licked his lips, grinning, and held his hand out. He’d gladly bridge this animosity if it got him a name and a number. “I’m Luke.”

His hand was met with cold air, the girl laughing again and showcasing the cute, little gap between her teeth. It should be an imperfection, but it kind of made her better. Jeez, he didn’t even know her! Why she was laughing, however, he didn’t know. He’d lie if he said his ego wasn’t slammed.

“Are you-?”

“Next up: my girl Julie with Lizzo!” The DJ yelled in the mic, a gaggle in the crowd hooting and whistling. His dream girl winked, throwing a thumb at the stage and shrugging like she felt sorry for interrupting the conversation.

“That’s my cue. Bye!”

“Wait!” Argh! He didn’t pay attention to the DJ! Now he still didn’t now her name! A beat later, though, the latter words processed. Lizzo. This girl was going to sing... Lizzo? The most revered pipes of the 21st century? Yeesh. Maybe she wasn’t so perfect after all.

The girl jumped on the stage like she owned it, the first notes of “Juice” booming from the amps, her body moving with the beat. Straightening her jacket and mirroring the smirk he just sported himself, Luke’s throat went dry.

“Oh.” Alex casually came to stand next to him. “That’s Julie.”

“What?!”

But then she opened her mouth and any sensical thought flew out the window. Her voice was fucking magnificent. Clear, kind of raspy, yet loud and strong and an undercurrent that suggested years of rigorous training. This was not just some girl singing - she was singer.

If I'm shining, everybody gonna shine I was born like this, don't even gotta try

Her eyes searched across the heads and then stuck on him, that damned smirk widening and sending him a look that would bring any man to his knees. And then, to finish him off, teasingly waved at him as she spit the lyrics.

I'm like Chardonnay, get better over time Heard you say I'm not the baddest bitch, you lie!

Julie zoomed through the lyrics with ease, dancing and singing like it was breathing, and oozing every bit of confidence a person could have. Cocky nods and flirtatious winks and sinking in her knees to direct a lyric to people in the crowd. He corrected his previous thought: she wasn’t a singer, she was a performer; and she had him stammering.

All of a sudden, she jumped offstage with the mic, the adoring audience parting for her like the Red Sea and the bartenders brightening the LED’s to give everyone a proper look at what she was doing. Luke should’ve known that one verse wasn’t enough - should’ve known that if he was the Flirt King, Julie was the Flirt Queen. He couldn’t keep the grin off his face though. She was incredible and - fuck it - the coolest girl he’s ever met.

Coming to a halt right in front of him with that smile meaning checkmate, she obnoxiously pointed at him as she sung the bridge to the audience.

Somebody come get this man I think he got lost in my DMs, what? My DMs, what? You better come get your man I think he wanna be way more than friends, what? More than friends What you want me to say?

Luke was shaking from laughter, flushing red yet buzzing with exhilaration at this girl putting him in his place. Putting on a show! Where has she been all his life?!

Before he could snatch her waist, she ran back to the stage to belt out the last chorus with all her might, a dazzling smile breaking through. It was the first genuine, earnest one of the night and... wow. Julie was breathtaking.

Alex, unfazed, pressed his phone in his face. “She’s a singer from LA. Thought you’d know her.”

Her song ended, applause so deafening the pedestrians probably heard too, Julie making a silly face and bumping fists with the DJ. She must be a regular here. Weaving her way back to the bar, Luke mustered all his bravado into a laid-back stance and nonchalant smile. He couldn’t hide the mischievous spark in his eye though. That checkmate was still up for grabs.

“A water, please,” she asked the bartender. Catching her eye, she turned towards him. “Hello again.”

“Gotta admit, Julie-” he leaned back, elbows propped on the bar. “-wasn’t too bad.”

From the way her eyes lingered on the movement, triumph flared in his chest. She came closer, cocking a hip and placing her glass next to his arm. “Ha! I can sing circles around you.”

He leaned in with a grin. “You’d be surprised.”

She didn’t back down. “Is that a challenge?”

“Ask me again in the morning.”

Huffing, she uttered: “What makes you think I’d go home with you?”

“Cause I do ‘wanna be way more than friends’ and, well-” He closed the space between them, calloused fingers tugging on a curl and tucking it behind her ear. Her skin was hot from the lights. For a beat, her resolve waned.“You’re still here.”

Those eyes that have been driving him wild flickered to his lips. He held his breath in anticipation. One night with this girl and some snarky lyrics later and he’d be back on the saddle. This was what he needed to get out of his funk. After, everything would just go back to normal. Right?

Her lips suddenly grazed his, gaze flicking up and giving him a killer grin. Right - maybe not entirely back to normal. He wouldn’t mind Julie giving him a look like that more often.

“You got yourself a deal... loverboy.”

@blush-and-books @willexx @unsaid-emily @alexjulies

#not me..... missing the bar my friends and i were known at for killing karaoke #not at all #why would you even IMPLY THAT #juke #jatp fanfiction #otp: i think we make each other better #written cause im in a slump so i am unslumping myself #might make this a full thing idk

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narrators-journal · 2 years

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Seashells by the seashore

Oh boy, Ukryu content instead of Stano! What a change! This time, it’s Reverseverse Ukryu, aka monsterverse, but the roles are altered and swapped. Same au as this piece, and this one, if you’re curious for more.

The beach was a wonderful reprieve from the cacophony of the city for Ukyo. He had some impressive hearing, which often gave him a headache with all of the noises, so the softer sounds of the water, and solitude he could find there. In short, it was simply relaxing. So, naturally, when one of his leave days were free and exceptionally sunny, Ukyo was sitting on a towel under an umbrella at a part of the beach where a cluster of rocks almost cut off a section of the beach from the rest. The other side of the beach was pretty busy with families and general beach goers, but on the sonar tech's side of the rocks, the only consistent sound was the ocean and the fishermen working on the dock a good distance down. However, his peace and quiet was eventually interrupted when a sea shell seemed to fly out of the water and smack right into the white-haired-man's head. However, when he looked up, Ukyo saw no people in the water close enough to throw it. "Hello?" Ukyo asked into the warm, open air, "Um, hi." A voice responded awkwardly, but not from the water, from the rocks behind him. That time, when the military man looked to the noise with a start, he saw a man with wild ebony hair and shockingly dark skin. They were in japan, but the young man perched on the highest rock had richly brown skin that darkened further to a near black at his hands. He must be a tourist, the sonar tech decided, "Did you throw this shell at me?" He asked, but the new person shook his head, "Might've been a mermaid, they sometimes throw stuff at people on the beach. I think it's a game." the tourist explained, his lack of any accent sort of impressing Ukyo, but he didn't comment on it. "So, what's your name?" "Sai, you?" "I'm Ukyo, nice to meet you," As they spoke, the possible tourist began to pick his way carefully down to the sand, approaching like a stray cat. Ukyo ended up closing his book and putting it to the side, now more interested in the new guy who now sat against the rock divider as they continued to talk. "So, why were you up at the top like that?" Ukyo asked, gesturing up to the rock mound, "It's easier to keep an eye on my baby brother from there, you get quite the view of the beach and water," Sai explained, "Oh! You're here with your family? How are you guys enjoying Japan?" The simple question seemed to take Sai by surprise for a second, but he got over that pretty quickly, "Oh, no, I'm not a tourist." He explained, grinning a bit at the mix up while the sonar tech felt embarrassment crawl over his skin, "I was born and raised here, my mother was simply indian," "Ah...sorry for that," the white-haired man said, his voice weak with embarrassment and shame, but Sai simply waved the issue off, "It's fine, you're not the first person to confuse me for a tourist. I actually find it amusing when people do," He assured. Nonetheless, the sonar tech was broiling in his guilt, thoughts of whether or not he was offensive in his assumption bubbling in his brain, but Sai wasn't offended, so those thoughts were easy to shake. The sheer embarrassment of that mistake though, was sure to haunt him. The sonar tech's guilt-party was interrupted when, yet again, a shell flew out of the water at him, barely missing his head that time. It made Sai laugh a bit, "I think the siren likes you," He teased, making the military man snort, "How do you know they aren't trying to kill me?" Sai shrugged, "If it's who I think it is? He's not trying to hit you in the head, he's a little too nice for that." Ukyo just stared at Sai after that, watching as he seemed to decide he'd said too much and turned awkward in a matter of seconds. "You know a siren? Or...mermaid?" he watched Sai fidget slightly, "Uh, I'm told he's a siren," He offered, his awkward energy as he seemed to read the question written on the sonar tech's face, "That's my brother. Which is how I know which type he is." They fell quiet after that, the white-haired military man digesting that new information until he heard Sai getting up. "Hey! W-wait, I'm not judging you," he called after the dark-skinned man, mentally kicking himself Why'd you say that?! Why would you be judging him? he scolded himself while Sai just shook his head, "Nah, you're not the issue. I actually just, have to go home now." Sai said reassuringly, giving a wave and walking down the beach towards the distant dock. Leaving Ukyo confused and still slightly embarrassed with two new gifts. This day is so weird.

#Ukryu #dcst #dr stone au #dr stone #ukyo x Ryusui #reverseverse #au #short story

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serararku · 3 years

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Memories and Reveries Pt 1: Kazukane Crimson

<Theme>

Red maple trees shivered in the morning light while a thick fog rolled across the forest floor to chase the night away. Beneath the brightening sky knelt a lone Raen girl at the start of her twelfth summer, kneading dirty clothes against a washboard at the bank of the Kazukane River. The blisters on her hands had yet to heal from churning butter the night prior, but if she wanted to spend some time by herself, she needed to tackle these chores now lest she work well into the evening. She wisely decided to bring her straw hat to protect her grey skin from cooking when the sun burned away the fog, a satchel to gather apples along the path to keep her hunger at bay, and a pointed stick in case some wild animals started getting ideas. Yet as she washed her father’s trousers to watch the dirt slither down the river, she began getting ideas of her own.

Mizuna Daisho was on borrowed time. She only had two more years to attract a suitor, and competition was tough; just about every girl in Kokoro Village was fairer, more physically developed, and far more submissive. Mizuna’s hands and feet were covered in calluses, her body was still as flat as a flounder, and she loved spending her free time secluding herself from the other children. If she didn’t get any marriage prospects by the time she turned fourteen she would likely face a lifetime of being a crone; her parents planned to sell her to a family in another village, but word of Mizuna’s attitude had already traveled halfway across the Raen settlements. Hopefully she could physically mature into a more desirable body before she became a burden on her family.

Snap!

Mizuna shot up to her feet and spun around from the sound. "Hello?!" She called out, dropping her laundry to grab her pointed stick to defend herself; any creature large or bold enough to hunt an Au Ra for breakfast wouldn’t give away its position before the strike. Was it a monster instead? An angry spirit? She clenched her jaw and stiffened when a boy came stumbling over tree roots and out of the morning mist. Not just any boy either- one of the cruelest oafs she's ever had to deal with.

"Uh… hi… Mizuna-kun." Takaatsu Kusakari mumbled, waving awkwardly. "I was hoping you were here…"

He was too big to stab with her stick, plus he was strong enough to rip it out of her hands and snap it in half over his knee if he wanted to. Instead she dropped her weapon and reached for her satchel full of apples. "Go away!" She demanded with a trembling voice. "Just leave me alone!"

"Wait!" He raised his hands to shield himself from the shiny red apple spiraling toward his face; Mizuna had one hell of a throwing arm despite her size. "I wanted to apologize…" She was already stretching her arm back with the second attempt to nail him between the eyes when she paused. "For laughing at you… for all those stupid pranks… for… for calling you Tiny Tiddy Mizzy…"

This time she lifted her foot when she put her whole body into this throw. A red flash of fruit exploded on his arms, sending bits of apple all over the forest floor; he would have definitely been hurting if it weren't for the hardened scales lining his forearm absorbing most of it.

It was hard to pick out another apple while she was blinking away these blinding tears. She had fallen victim to their merciless name-calling and cruel pranks all year, and she would rather die than fall for any more of their tricks again. But to hear Takaatsu laughing along with them- someone she was close friends with ever since they were toddlers, that one hurt the most.

When she finally found the biggest, fattest, and hardest apple to chuck at him, she looked up to see Takaatsu bowing with his fat head facing the ground and his arms at his sides. "Please forgive me!" He shouted at the top of his lungs, his voice cracking twice. Muzuna was surprised yet cautious; shattering this juicy fruit against the top of his head at this angle and distance would be almost too easy. But why would he make himself vulnerable like this? What was his goal here?

"Who put you up to this?" She demanded, straining her eyes in hopes of finding his friends hiding behind the trees, barely containing their laughter. Yet no one was there…

"I wanted to be cool… for everyone to like me. When Matsumi singled you out, everyone just tried to impress her. I'm so sorry for all those dumb things I did… I trampled on our friendship because I was afraid they wouldn't accept me if I didn't…" Takaatsu barely moved a muscle, his eyes trailing up just high enough to see her feet; his scalp wasn't stinging from her throw, so that was a start. "I just wanted to fit in…"

Mizuna sucked in air as the first tear rolled down her cheek. "I wanted to fit in too…" She admitted, swallowing dryly. She wanted so desperately to hate him for humiliating her again and again. But she was just tired of being so angry and miserable all the time; and most of all, now more than ever, she wanted to be left alone.

"I wrote you something…" Takaatsu was slow to rise to his full height. He struggled to retrieve a crumpled parchment from his pocket and fumbled with it more when he pulled it open. He had to clear his throat more than once, with beads of sweat glistening on his forehead; his face was flushed and he was shaking- it looked like he was about to vomit.

“Well?” Mizuna huffed, her arm starting to ache from holding the apple aloft for so long. “Out with it!”

“M-Mizuna-kun… the Diasho Diamond… the Maiden of the Mists…” He blinked a few times and inhaled sharply before continuing. “With hair like bending reeds in the gentle breeze, and eyes like jadefire. You are a sleeping dragon, generous with fury and flame to those who disturb your rest. Your voice is honey… a song befitting the dancing waves of the sea. I risk your wrath, your ire, your warmth. I know the danger but I still speak your name to the wind. I still call out to the spirit in the fog.” Slowly he looked up to finally meet her gaze, no longer reading from the parchment in his trembling hands. “You’ve placed a curse upon me. I’ve seen your treasure at the back of your lair. I’ve heard your siren song along the stillwater. I am a moth and you are my candle… and I am forever drawn to your light. Mizuna-kun…! I…”

She had flushed a deep green in the face at this point, her arms heavy at her sides. The apple she was going to chuck at him had long dropped to her feet. Furthermore she was utterly speechless; no one had dared talk to her like that. A ferocious dragon? What did he mean when he called her that? And a ghost? None of it made any sense… and she didn’t know how to feel. But she knew she didn’t hate him. Not nearly as much as she used to.

He suddenly stiffened and took a few steps back. “Oh man…!” He mumbled, pointing at her. No… not at her… behind her. “What…?!” Mizuna was reluctant to turn around, partially fearing this was a setup for one of his cruelest pranks to date. But when she did turn to look at what he was pointing at, her blood ran cold and all the strength she had fled into the crisp morning air.

The Kazukane River was turning red. Deep and dark and crimson.

Soon shattered pieces of wood and broken wagon wheels began drifting downstream. Then came the livestock torn to pieces, their dull lifeless eyes and mangled faces occasionally poking out of the water before sinking and turning sideways when their legs scraped along the riverbed. The bloody water stained the few pieces of laundry Mizuna had soaking in the river, but she didn’t even notice. Especially once the Auri bodies came drifting down to greet her.

Men, women, and children; the river carried them all. The dead would be ferried to the mouth of the river and swallowed by the sea, their faces contorted with the permanent scars of their final moments- filled with terror. Mizuna felt nothing when she stared at the remains of people she once knew, staring blankly into their eyes as they shifted, bobbed, and floated by. The entire population of Shinegao Village seemed to drift along the stained waters, from infants to elderly.

"Mizuna!" Takaatsu's voice coaxed her out of her dazed stupor. "We have to go!"

She looked away from their faces once the dread began to settle in; she took a few meager steps back, but was still processing what she was looking at. What kind of horrible monster could slaughter an entire vil-

"MIZUNAAA!" Black scales burst forth from the river! Through the red mist and vapor came a hooked claw that raked across her stomach to violently tear holes through her dress! Mizuna stumbled back in shock and fell hard onto her back, knocking the wind from her lungs! She had just enough time to gaze upon the face of this monster as it slowly stepped out onto the bank!

The oni towered over the two children, with vibrant crimson skin painted with inky black markings. Across its collar were the severed heads of villagers strung together by their cracked and broken horns. But it’s eyes…! Fiery pits from the hottest hells, yet empty like the hungering void! Long black horns sprouted from the sides of its head, with tattered lips peeled back in a sadistic grin to reveal a mouthful of jagged teeth stained with the blood of its prey! Mizuna stared at its form and became paralyzed with terror!

Only Takaatsu grabbing Mizuna by the arm and yanking her onto her feet broke this insidious spell. The creature made a deep growling sound that vaguely mimicked laughter as it watched them flee into the forest, and Mizuna glanced over her shoulder just in time to see its burning red eyes disappear behind the grey backdrop of the morning mist.

She could barely keep up. Her tattered dress was nearly falling off her body, and blood trickled from her stomach from the slash, but he didn’t dare let go of her wrist. It wasn’t until they made it to the other end of the woods and stumbled upon the Hermit’s House did they stop and take a breath.

“What’s going on?” Okeya-san demanded, walking out of his house with his pitchfork. “What are you two kids doing out here so early?”

“Sir! A monster is coming!” Mizuna squeaked out between gasps. “It killed everyone in Shinegao!”

“What are you talking-” He paused as he caught figures emerging from the mist; instantly he recognized their markings. “G-get inside, children! Don’t make a sound you hear me?!” Takaatsu pulled Mizuna into the hermit’s shack, and ducked behind a large clay pot to hide. Okeya-san dropped his pitchfork and began walking toward the strangers, who stopped running and stood up to their full height to approach him. “W-wait…! Dotharl!” He called out, struggling to keep his composure. “N-no food! No glory! U-unarmed, see?! No sport!” He collapsed to his knees when the oni emerged, towering over Okeya-san as well; this creature was gigantic, and poorly disguised as an auri like them.

“Where children?” It demanded in a voice and accent as thick as mud. “Two. Tiny?”

“N-no children came this way…!” He clasped his hands together and bowed to show his surrender. “No children! J-just me!”

The oni glanced back at the others and sneered, bearing its teeth again. Okeya-san tried to reason with it again, but the creature suddenly grabbed him by the horns. Mizuna squeaked at the wet snap before Takaatsu could cover her mouth to stifle her panicking. The oni then planted a clawed foot on his shoulder and pulled off his head with three crunchy yanks. Another monster began to approach the shack with a cruel grin spread across its face, with burning yellow eyes and trophies from its conquest dangling from its form. But instead of just rushing in and slaughtering the two Raen children, it plucked the torch from the patio and swung the door open.

"Buuuurning!" It laughed, tossing the torches onto a bale of wheat before slamming the door closed; last night's rain and the morning mist left the outside of the shack too damp to burn, but everything inside was bone dry. Mizuna watched the growing flames devour the wheat in seconds before it began to creep along the floorboards and walls. If they tried rushing out of the only door, the murderers would simply catch and kill them; she didn’t have any answers and worse, the shack was quickly running out of air.

“Over here!” Takaatsu huffed, working his fingers between the floorboards in the corner to begin pulling them up. Mizuna reached down with one hand to help him, but kept her other hand over her mouth to avoid breathing in the darkening smoke. Just as the roaring flames began to surround them, the shoddy woodwork gave way; the Hermit’s House was elevated over the ground, but not by much- last night's storm had turned the dirt below into a sticky paste. Still, it beat burning to death. Mizuna and Takaatsu crawled along their bellies like salamanders to escape the flames but they weren’t out of the woods yet.

As soon as Takaatsu wiggled free from the underside of the shack and could stand up straight, he pulled Mizuna out by the arms and they began to make a run for it. It was hard to sprint in her dress even when it was clean and tidy, but now she nearly tripped on the torn threads that clung to her legs from the mud. But if they could just make it back to their hidden village then they could wait out these killers and-

THOP!

Mizuna’s legs buckled and she fell down the steep hill, rolling over and over until she slid the last few yalms at the bottom. Dazed, dizzy, and confused, she pulled her face out of the mud and gasped for breath, before desperately attempting to rise to her feet. “AUGH!” Jolting pain up her left leg stopped her from putting any pressure on her foot, and when she smeared mud away from her eyes, a cold dread gripped her by the back of the neck.

An arrow had pierced her lower calf to spill her blood into the muck; she didn’t know where the impact of the shot or the tumble down the hill broke her leg, but she was quickly running out of time. Takaatsu was nowhere to be found; he likely raced down the hill and jumped over the ditch in a single bound. Mizuna was now alone, bleeding and broken. It was only a matter of seconds before those monsters found her. “TAKA!” She cried out, grabbing handfuls of dirt and mud to pull herself along. “TAKE PLEASE! DON’T LEAVE ME!”

He reappeared out of the fog, scrambling down into the ditch to try and pull her out. “Come on! Come on!”

“M-my leg-!” She pleaded, unable to look at the twisted thing any longer. “Takaatsu please! Please don’t leave me with those things!”

“Oh no-!” He choked, glancing up and behind her. Mizuna whipped her head around to see seven oni standing at the top of the hill, with the one responsible for shooting her leg drawing another arrow. Takaatsu reached down and pulled her up by the collar of her shirt, yanking her out of the mud and heaving her over his shoulder. Gritting through the pain Mizuna clung to him for dear life, her fearful gaze locked on the creatures who slowly began to descend in their direction.

“I’m going to die!” She closed her eyes as tears began streaming down her face. She couldn’t bear to look at anything any longer- she simply braced herself for the bite of an arrow that never came. All she could hear was Takaatsu’s heavy breathing, all she could feel was the bounce of each step. Mizuna spent a lifetime waiting for death to take her, an eternity between every heartbeat. She sagged over his shoulders like a giant doll, letting her arms dangle and swing freely while she silently prayed to the Dawn Father for this terrible nightmare to end.

“HEY! HEEEYYY!” Takaatsu began shouting, drawing her back to reality. “Help us! Someone help us!” Mizuna opened her eyes just in time to see them cross the threshold of their home. All of Kokoro Village came stumbling out of their homes to witness this commotion, with murmured whispers and gasps slipping from the residents when they saw the sorry state of the two children.

Takaatsu almost dropped her when he collapsed into the dirt, using what little strength he had left to gently place her on the ground. Her mother Kana came running out of their house to surround Mizuna in her arms, but she could barely hear her mother’s panicked voice over the gathering crowd’s shouting. She looked around for Takaatsu, but he had vanished behind the legs of adults standing over her to get a better look.

“That’s enough! Get out of the way!” Only one voice could carry that far and demand that much respect. Mizuna’s father came rushing out of his dojo, almost stumbling and losing his cane more than once; but with his free hand he pulled and shoved people out of his way until the crowd got the message and gave him and his family much needed space. “Mizuna?! What happened?! What is the meaning of this?!”

“M-monsters Oto-san! There are monsters out in the mists! They killed everyone in Shinegao! And they killed Okeya-san!” Mizuna’s heart was pounding in her throat when she delivered the news, but she felt safe again in her mother’s soothing embrace. “H-he called them Do… dodo… d-”

“Dotharl.” Lord Daisho grimaced before his steely gaze shot to the entrance of the village. “Fetch me my sword and armor!”

“The blood trail…!” A villager gasped, pointing at Mizuna’s wounded leg. “Oh no…! You led them right to us! We’re doomed!”

Fear surged through the crowd like waves rippling across the disturbed surface of still water, but her father stood up straight and cleared his throat. “Women and children are to get inside! Anyone who can stand and fight- form up on me!” The villagers were terrified, but they did as he commanded. The elderly were ushered into their homes along with the children, with the women already setting buckets of water along the main path in the event of fire. Mizuna’s mother snapped the arrow’s shaft and pushed the barb through her leg, before she began wrapping the wound tightly. Even through the pain the little girl looked around for Takaatsu, spotting him still on one knee and drenched with mud and sweat.

“You there! Kusakari!” Her father commanded, pointing a finger at the young boy while his pupils rushed to fasten his old samurai armor onto his aging body. “Are you injured?!”

“N-no, Daisho-sama…!”

“You have given my daughter nothing but misery for the past year. You and the other brats have tortured her for far too long!” Takaatsu looked like he was about to wet himself, pressing his hands and knees onto the ground and bowing before the old swordmaster. “But because of your actions today… my daughter still breathes. Leaving her to die would have bought you enough time to return here alone… but you didn’t. You have shown great courage and bravery. Rise, Kusakari! Fight by my side and you shall have my daughter’s hand!” Mizuna pursed her lips in shock as Takaatsu shot to his feet, still out of breath and trembling, but seemingly taller than he’s ever been.

Hidekore Daisho went by many names over the years, but Kokoro Village simply knew him as the Bending Reed. His skill with a katana was unparalleled in his prime, but his prime was long gone. He couldn’t stand for long without the use of his cane, and his eyesight was beginning to fade. Worse still, he was terribly out of practice; he hadn’t so much as held a real katana in a dozen summers- not since his daughter was born. The villagers were terrified of being pillaged by a horde of Dotharli screamers, yet they rallied behind his call to arms all the same. The village was hidden in the cliffside and the only way out was through the entrance, so what choice did they have?

A dozen farmhands, some as young as ten, and not a shred of combat experience between them. Four hunters and a fisherman who knew how to gut and clean animals but not people. A woodsman who’s only ever swung an axe at trees, and an aging swordmaster. All against at least seven Dotharli berserkers who live and die for the glory of combat. Hidekore had to keep his composure lest the village succumb to panic, and if that were to happen, every single one of them would share in Shinegao Village’s fate. Their one saving grace was Takaatsu and Mizuna’s warning. And despite the Dotharl likely letting them go to lead them back here, he still considered it a boon more than a curse.

Hidekore turned to his family as his chestguard was pulled over his head and tied beneath his shoulders. Leaning hard on his cane he approached his loyal wife and pressed his lips against her forehead. “Whatever happens…” He whispered so low even Mizuna could barely hear him. “We will be together. Always.” Kana closed her watery eyes when her husband gently caressed her cheek and pulled away.

“They’re here!”

He whipped around and tossed his cane aside. “Get inside. Now!”

“Oto-san!” Mizuna cried out, reaching for him. The painted monsters came charging through the main gate, and everyone began stumbling back in terror; everyone but Lord Daisho. “Oto-saaan!” The last thing she saw as her mother slammed the door shut was her father drawing his pearly white katana and dropping the sheathe, with the berserking fiends closing the distance by leaping through the air at him. “OTO-SAAAAN!”

Mizuna jerked awake, her heart pounding in her chest. For a split second she could have sworn her parents were with her in this clinic, but she was alone. Only the steady beeping of the monitor and the low hum of the ceiling fan kept her company. Even after thirty summers her first Dotharli raid was still fresh in her memories, just waiting to peek around the corner and frighten her in her darkest nightmares. No longer concerned with keeping up a professional appearance, she pinched a gloomroot blunt in between her trembling fingers and lit it up.

Her smoke break would have to come early this time.

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ditch-witches · 4 years

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No Catch: Dean Charles-Chapman x Reader

thank you, beautiful Ivanna, for your excellent work and continued support.

request: “I need me a fallen angel Dean au, complete with black wings and shit (insert that Matthew McConaughey smoking meme)”

warnings: slight cursing, mentions of mugging and cosplaying

word count: 3000+

The bell above the bar door rang overhead, breaking your focus on the cash register in front of you. Your eyes flashed up with an internal groan as you watched four more customers stroll in, the final minutes of your shift ticking by with no sign of emptying out the place. Your co-worker, a man in his late twenties with striking auburn hair and a customary beige jacket with a stain on one of the pockets whether he knew it or not, put a fresh toothpick between his teeth as he filled the glasses of a few regulars. The men occupying the stools glared at the TV screen over your co-worker’s shoulder, not paying much mind to him.

The drawer finally clicked open as a rush of relief washed over you. Taking the money from the people before you, you began to feel the hours of the day weighing on your shoulders. The thought of having to get up in a few hours to start your workday yet again made you feel almost sick. But anything for the financial stability you longed for. Who cares if you’re living in a mansion and driving a fast car? What you wanted was to have enough to get by after paying a major bill, or having the luxury to eat out every few days. Treating yourself to a new pair of shoes wouldn’t hurt either.

But here you were, clocking out of your third shift of the day, dead tired and wanting nothing more than to crawl into bed and waste away for the few hours of sleep you could afford. You were grateful that your co-worker hadn’t batted an eyelash at the growing crowd and shooed you off for the night. The darkening night sky was almost a sea of black against the bright yellows of the street lamps illuminating the busy crosswalks and shop corners of the city block. You pulled your scarf further up around your nose to combat the dropping temperature as you cut down an alleyway. The biting barks of stray dogs fighting over a scrap of meat mixed with the various sirens echoing in the distance as you trudged along, attempting to remember if your uniform for tomorrow (or later) was clean.

You almost lost yourself deep enough in your thoughts to ignore the footsteps behind you. You willed your heart to mellow as you took a deep breath, your exhales curtaining around your face like smoke from a chimney on a winter day. Your fingers brushed against the metal canister of pepper spray hidden in your jacket pocket. You had been mugged before and swore to yourself you wouldn’t let it happen again. You threw a glance over your shoulder, finding an empty alleyway behind you. You shook your head, turning forward and gluing your eyes to the buildings at the other end of the alley. Count your steps! That’s it, keep calm. You scolded yourself.

The footsteps continued, slow and heavy, almost as if the owner were sauntering playfully towards you. Should I look again? No way, what if it’s just some kid. You pressed on, your palms growing sweaty as the footsteps began to gain on you. What if I let them get close and then whip around and startle them? What if they have a knife? A gun? You swallowed a lump in your throat, looking around to see if anyone would be able to hear you being murdered.

As if by instinct, you planted your feet and turned, eyes wild as you searched for the owner. The city seemed too quiet as you did this, the eerie silence only broken by your labored breaths. What happened to the dogs, the drunk women yelling for taxis? Where were the domestic disputes above you? You chewed the inside of your cheek, tugging your jacket tighter around you. Were you going crazy? Was the lack of sleep finally getting to you? You moved to head back in your original direction and smacked into a wall —- no, a hard chest.

Knocking you back a few steps, your eyes locked with a pair of nearly glowing blue ones. His sharp teeth peeked out from behind his lips as a small smirk drew a line on his face. “Boo!” He joked, sending you into action. You reached for your pepper spray and within a second he was doubled over screaming at you as you shoved past the mystery man and sprinted down the alleyway, ignoring his calls for you to wait. You ran as fast as your feet could carry you, your hair rustling into knots with your movements. Whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck. Boo! Boo! What kind of a sicko-

“Stop running, you’re not going to get away,” he hummed as you turned a corner and nearly rammed into him again. You shrieked and took off in the opposite direction. How had he gotten there before you? The alleyway was quickly becoming a never-ending labyrinth of twists and turns with him at every stop. Your lungs felt as if they might burst and you decided to weigh your options. Could you take him? Depends. Were you carrying anything that had value? Did it matter? You stopped, your hands falling to your knees as you attempted to catch your breath. Your joints ached and your whole body screamed for rest. “I can do this all night if you wanna keep showing off how fast you run in those tennis shoes,” the man quipped. You straightened up as he came around your side to stand in front of you. The cold sweat running down your back sent an ick of goosebumps spreading across your body. You peered at him, your chest rising and falling in heavy breaths.

His blue eyes caught the glimmer of the street light as he moved, making the color almost icy. His dark hair curled around his ears ever so slightly, nearly masking the silver charm hanging from one of his ears. His dark suit sat squarely on his shoulders, no thanks to his posture. The more appalling part of him that you could shake from your mind was the pair of wings tucked close to his back. The dark glistening sheer of the feathers made them seem almost real, yet your mind searched for what they were truly connected to. Surely this man hadn’t ruined a suit so expensively tailored for a costume. They almost hung from him naturally, which almost made you question if they really were extensions of him. Just your luck: running into a cosplayer on a Thursday night.

He stepped to face you, your sights now picking up on the redness forming around his eyes as he squinted at you. “I can’t believe you pepper-sprayed me. Psycho,” he sneered, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

You scoffed, taking a step back from him. “I’m the psycho? What the fuck was that!” You threw your hand back in the direction which you had come, turning slightly to find the alleyway as it usually was. Where had the dips and turns gone that you had just sprinted through? You really needed a nap.

“Language! What if God hears you?” He nearly bit before snorting to himself like it was a preposterous idea to begin with. He raked a hand through his curls and sighed, looking you over as if he was seeing just what he had been dealt with. “What are we gonna do with you?” He asked, his accent almost husky as he spoke to himself.

You furrowed your brows, tilting your head as you stepped further away from him, making sure to hold your hands up in defense. “Look, buddy, I don’t know what you’re supposed to be but-”

He cut you off with a click of his tongue, his arms falling lazily as his sides as a defeated look settled into his posture. “Are you serious? You don’t know who I am?”

You shook your head slightly. “Uh… The dude from Legion?”

He smiled, his head tilting to match your angle in a soft and almost mocking manner. “No, silly! I’m your guardian angel. Always have been. I thought that was obvious.” He murmured the last part to himself as he searched your questioningly distrustful eyes. He took a few steps to close most of the gap between you and you stretched away from him.

“What do you mean guardian angel?” You bit, throwing your hands on your hips. The man wouldn’t let up his character. You squared up to him, despite his obvious height above yours. He seemed to play along as you did.

“I’m the one that looks out for you,” he grinned as if he were a proud child after finally accomplishing an art project for his mom. You returned his devious expression with a blank stare, wondering what number you should call to reach a mental institution quickest. He fell back on his heel, angling his face downwards slightly to get a better look at your eyes. “Don’t believe me?” You looked at him as if he were crazy. How could you! This man just chased you down an alley and is now claiming to be your guardian angel, as if that’s possible. Your mind wandered to your co-worker. Had he slipped something in your drink when you weren’t looking? Surely, not.

“Those eyes have never been good at hiding your true thoughts, you know?” He jeered, sending you a wink as he watched you search his face. A blush crept onto your face for a reason unbeknownst to you. Embarrassment maybe? His teeth sunk into his bottom lip as if he were biting back a smile as his dark wings began to expand behind him, stretching out to fill what space they could. You stumbled back slightly, tripping on your feet and landing on your butt as you stared up at the man in horror and maybe slight amazement. How had he engineered them to do that? Were they on a pulley system under his jacket? How did he make them do that without flexing a muscle?

You sat in silence, attempting to find words, a thought, anything to diffuse the situation. Finally, your mind clicked back into place and you pushed yourself up, brushing off your pants and sighing. You began to walk around him. “Okay, Metatron, I’m going home. This’s been fun but I have a shift in a few hours and I think I might have had something laced with PCP so-”

“Oh, come on, I’m not Metatron-”

“Fine, I’ll stop guessing. I just know I need sleep, and you’re some crazy dude in an alley I’ve been wasting too much time talking to.” He chuckled at your response. As you walked a few steps, you couldn’t help but turn back to him. “Plus, what kind of guardian angel looks like you. Aren’t you supposed to look like the Hitler youth with angel wings?”

He smirked, angling his chin up slightly as he ran his tongue over his white teeth. “Yeah, I am. Do you want a ride?”

“No, fuck off,” you quipped with a small laugh, heading in your destination’s direction.

The next morning, you woke up groggy and sore. As you pulled yourself together, you avoided looking at your schedule for the day, hoping that someone would need to switch for an earlier time slot so you could get home at a better time. The diner you worked at during the day was already buzzing with its usual customers coming and going. Families treating themselves to breakfast before heading off to work and school seemed to juxtapose those who were using the little spot as a truck stop. The out of state families were always the better tippers, unsurprising to you. Your routine of monotonously waiting tables and working the register seemed to fit you into your usual groove. That was until you spotted an all too familiar pair of blue eyes, making what you pegged as a dream last night come to life.

You stepped towards him cautiously, your mouth growing drier at the possibility that he had found you here, but by what means? Would he start showing up at your next jobs? Your apartment? The wings were gone, just as you had expected, yet that same sly look remained firmly planted on his lips. In place of the dark suit he wore last night was merely a white t-shirt and a leather jacket, which he had thrown lazily to the side of him in the booth. You straightened out the skirt of your uniform, tapping the end of your pen against the small pad of paper you gripped in your hand maybe a bit too tightly. “What can I get you today, sir?” You asked, making him turn his sights up to beam at you.

“Good morning, sunshine. How was your night?” He mocked, a devious sparkle in his eye. You rolled your eyes at his chipper smugness. He seemed less menacing than in the alleyway, but that wasn’t saying much, considering how dimly lit it had been last night. He now reminded you of someone’s AA sponsor rather than a sophisticated angel. “What do you recommend? I don’t eat-”

You leaned against his table slightly. “Would you drop the act already? You’re not an actual angel.”

His smile seemed to widen a touch. “I think that’s a conversation that we need to have actually. Which is partially the reason why I’m here. I know you get off around six-”

“Are you stalking me?”

“Sorry, did you miss the part where I’m your guardian angel? Or is that still lost on you?” His eyebrow perked up at your question. You couldn’t mask the look of disgust ripping through your body.

You wet your lips. “What do you want?”

He gave you a look suggesting it was obvious. “I don’t know. That’s why I asked you. I haven’t-”

“From me. Why are you here, now?”

He nodded. “Yeah, good question.” He grabbed his jacket from beside him and slid out of the booth, standing next to you. You furrowed your brows at him and he gave you a smug grin once again, heading towards the front of the diner with you scrambling after him. You reached for his arm to pull him back, only to get a spark of electricity singeing against your fingertips, making you groan. He stopped walking and turned to you, his eyes a darker shade. “Great, glad that’s over with. Now, relax,” he hissed, continuing straight towards your boss. What the fuck was happening? He started pulling his jacket on as he spoke to her, her eyes seemingly softening at him as she giggled at what he said. Was he charming her? He stepped out of the way so she could see you.

“It’s a wonderful day, why don’t you take some time off?” Your eyes flashed between the man and your boss, feeling like the world was spinning slightly as you attempted to piece together what was happening. You hadn’t realized you were holding the hand that had been shocked until the man grabbed it, pulling to behind him and out of the diner. He slung one of his legs over a motorcycle you assumed he owned and pushed up the kickstand. He nodded for you to climb on back.

“I need the tips from today. I’ll be behind on my rent-”

“I’ll take care of it,” he answered simply, handing you a helmet.

“No, way-”

“Yes, way. Come on,” he stated, kicking on the bike and pulling his own helmet on. You took a deep breath and compiled. Hell, you had the day off right? As you slunk onto the bike seat, the man pulled you closer to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. “Try not to fall off. I don’t feel like trying to heal you up today.” As the bike began to move, you clung tighter to him, feeling him chuckle beneath your grasp. You pressed against his back, trying to figure out where his wings had gone and why the hell you were tazed when you touched him for the first time. Why were his eyes so radiant? Unnaturally radiant, that is. Who the fuck was he?

The ride flashed by rather quickly, your thoughts taking up most of the time you would have normally spent sight-seeing or wondering why in the hell you had gotten on the back of a stranger’s bike. To your surprise, you ended up at another restaurant, stationed in a booth opposite of this strange man as he ordered for you, in an attempt to lighten the shock of the situation. “I thought you didn’t know what food tasted good.”

“I was just playing cute. I thought it might make me more approachable for you.” You blinked at his words, feeling more unstable than when you were on the motorcycle. His demeanor had changed, he was almost tense now. “Where would you like me to start?”

You shrugged, your fear now becoming almost unmanageable. “Who are you?”

“My name is Dean. I was assigned to you when you were born.” You nodded slightly, unsure of what to ask next as you located all the exits in the restaurant. It was crowded, so you figured he wasn’t going to kill you at least. “You mentioned my appearance earlier. I don’t have that Aryan look you want because I’m not really an angel angel. I mean, I used to be.”

You narrowed your eyes. “So what you’re saying is…”

“I work for someone else now. If you get what I mean.” He smiled at the waiter as she brought out drinks for the two of you. He rubbed the back of his neck as he seemed to chew on other information in a way of deciding how to break what to you. “Besides, it’s better having my kind as your guardian than one of those halo pricks.”

You scoffed. “So why right now? Why not show up a few years ago or when I was a kid?”

He shrugged. “Your life is so shitty right now, you need me.” You narrowed your eyes. “Before you defend yourself and go all-mighty woman on me, I know you’re working hard and I know what you want. I can give that to you, and whatever else you desire.”

You put your chin in your hand. “For what? My soul?” You joked.

He rolled his eyes with a small chuckle, setting his arms on the table to lean towards you. “Only if you beg,” he winked. “Actually, there’s no catch. You just have to let me.”

…

Dean sat across the long dinner table from his superior, barely able to touch whatever gruel had been pushed his way. For how civilized it seemed they were, the demon appetite was next to animalistic. The cool air in the room was reflexive of the mood the opaque souls passing beside the large windows echoed: hollow and dead. The light in the room was only thanks to the moonlight shining through the barrier between the worlds. Dean let his mind travel to the day he had spent with you and how much you would hate to be dragged to hell beside him. Could he convince you it wouldn’t be so bad? Was it more just to end his own suffering by adding to yours?

His superior cleared his throat, brushing a napkin over his chin and standing. His chair made no noise as his figure looked almost wispy as he strolled toward the fireplace, breathing into the logs as if he were a dragon. Dean snickered slightly at the obscenity of the action. “It’s nearly time you know. For the Choosing, I mean.” Dean’s stomach tightened with anxiety at his words. The tall man took his place at the table again, his dark, pitted features unintentionally burning further into Dean’s memories. “I know what you’ve been doing in the mortal world. You think playing around with Gabriel’s daughter is a good idea when you should be looking for a mate you don’t have to kill when the time comes?”

Dean let out a sharp breath, the man’s words cutting deeper into Dean than he had expected them to. Dean looked down at his hands to regain his composure. He had almost had a terrible temper, especially when it came to you. “She doesn’t even know who she is. I can convince her-"

"No. You can’t. Besides, how would the Choosing play out with a demon-like you meddling in her life.” The man’s calm tone was almost more angering than the rules he was conveying. Dean stared blankly at the man, knowing full well he wouldn’t win this argument, but that wasn’t going to stop him from trying. “I don’t care who’s son you are or how much you like her, I won’t let it happen.”

Dean swallowed. “She’s not like them.”

“I’ll arrange for the church to find you someone who could actually be a mate. Stay out of the mortal world, or at least hers,” the man stated firmly, nodding that Dean could leave finally. If only he could tell you the whole truth, would you believe him then? He shoved his fists into his pant pockets as he chewed his lip, strolling down the vast hallway from the room. Portraits of the underworld leaders lined the walls in different shapes and sizes. When he was younger, Dean had wanted to be among them, like his father. Now it only made him sick to think of the corruption and mass extinctions that got those men on the wall. Gabriel had been an ally of his father’s before the shit hit the fan.

When Dean found out the angels had been having affairs with mortals, he hadn’t blinked an eye; him having already been guilty of that sin himself. But as soon as he laid eyes on you, he wanted you. The Choosing had loomed over him like a rain cloud until that day. What was the worst that could happen if you were his victim for the Choosing? Well, fuck it right, he was already living in hell.

M A S T E R L I S T.

#dean charles chapman #dean-charles chapman #deancharleschapman #demon!dean #dean charles chapman smut #dean charles chapman imagine #dean charles chapman x reader #dean charles chapman fluff #dean charles chapman angel #angel au #angel #devil #devil au #fallen angel

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marielambs-corner · 4 years

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Happy Ink Demonth, Everyone!!!

I’m not sure if I’ll be able to keep the pace, but the very least I could try was to participate in its first day this year, no?

Here have another story from the Ink Shape AU, presenting Sammy Lawrence and Wally Franks.

If you want to read it directly from here, check under the cut and enjoy!!!

♥♥♥

Whole year

“Happy birthday to you~!” Chanted almost everyone gathered in the break room, cheering the Irish man in his special day as he blew the candles that topped the cake the janitor so heartfully got made in honor to the celebration.

Of course, this seemed special, but not really special. Sammy knew well. After all, Wally always made this for everyone in the studio with no exception. And as such, the only really special thing here was the janitor himself, and Sammy liked to watch him roaming around, putting smiles on every face he met, even on himself; he was really good about it.

“You enjoying the party, Lawrence?” Susie came to his reclused corner, earning a disgruntled groan that erased the soft smirk that was peeking from the corners of his mouth.

“Yeah, sure, as if this could even be called a party at all in the petty hour we have for lunch.” He retorted, dripping sarcasm from every pore as he made his way out of the corner, away from the voice actress, and towards the coffee machine by the other side of the room.

“Oh, and I’m sure you’ve gone to plenty of parties to actually know how’s one, don’t cha?” She followed; a glint of mischievousness adorning her eyes.

“The only excuse of a party I’ve been are these ones you and your little group drag me on, interrupting my job.” He said as he started the machine to boil the water, keeping contained the thought of Wally being into that so called “little group” and that he was the only reason he left them drag him on; Susie didn’t need to know that. “And seeing how they are, is easy to tell this couldn’t be called a party in any sense.” Was his final muttered statement.

“Oh, c’mon, mister grumps! Can’t you even pretend you can have fun once in your life? I even heard Wally got a really special kind of cake!”

“What could be so special about--” He turned around to face the short woman but his answer to his unfinished question came from the joyous shout of the man of the hour.

“Liqueur chocolate cake?! How did ya know it?!”

“Heh, I got mah ways.”

“And Joey agreed with this? It’s still working hours...”

“Well, he’s not ‘ere to know it, so I guess we still can enjoy it.”

A bunch of chuckles burst with the projectionist’s remark that gave way to a lightheartedly chat among the crew. All the scene witnessed by Sammy and Susie alike, the latter nudging the former on the ribs.

“See? There can be fun! And you gotta admit it: Wally’s pretty great at giving people what they want. Even for Your birthday.”

“Yeah, yeah...” He turned around to keep with his coffee task and face his back on the actress so she wouldn’t see his forming tender smile “I guess he does can use that brain of his more than for just horsing around.”

“...would it hurt you being nice at least once?” She snarked with a deadpanned glare that fell on the unbothered musician’s back, who only answered with completely ignoring her as he kept preparing his coffee and thrived on things that escaped the woman’s unaware grasp. But with a defeated sigh, she moved around, standing now next to him and leaning on the counter as she kept watching the celebration a couple of tables ahead. “He’s too nice for you to get it, Lawrence.” The understatement of the week, Sammy thought. “But even with all that, can’t help but feel it’s kinda weird...”

She didn’t continue, to what Sammy had no much more choice than to recognize it as his cue to question what she meant.

“What could be so weird that you need to point it out?” He asked, monotonously and not even gracing her with a glance, to what she promptly ignored.

“Well, do you even have an idea of when is his birthday?” That question honestly halted any action he was on.

Every inch of his mind screamed to demand what that even meant, but he couldn’t give away such kind of signs, lest he blew up their arrangement.

“...uh?” Was his so eloquent answer in hopes to show at most mild interest.

“Sammy, I mean it. He knows the birthday of everyone in here, and I mean everyone. There once was this intern that just came in, and barely two weeks after, Wally was already calling every member to the conference room where this intern was to sing and celebrate his birthday! With cake and all the deal! Yet how many years have been since he works here?” She asked, to what he deigned a blank stare direct to her. “He’s been here since before me, but still never heard of anybody who said “happy birthday, Wally” a single time! I wonder when it could...” But her voice got lost in the sea of thoughts that invaded Sammy’s mind.

He kept his blanc façade as he slowly turned to stare the man in question, bewilderment swarming behind those seemingly inexpressive eyes so focused on keep the role of uninterested and plain annoyed. He hated to admit it, but Susie had a point. Wally was actually really secretive, not even sharing his own birthday. Heck, weren’t for that accident, they wouldn’t even have known he was completely homeless! And now that they were dating, he wondered if there would really be things that maybe they’d never share. He could understand it, he had his own quota of private stuff. But if there were so simple things he didn’t know, how sure was he about what he knew of the janitor? Apparently not much beyond a name...

“Sammy... Sammy, are you listening?” The actress snapped him off his thoughts, though he was lucky of not even have reacted with a flinch, conserving his oh, so apathetic semblance. So, he just side-glanced at her as minimal response. “I was asking if you can recall a time where he announced his own birthday.”

“Heh, hardly think he would buy his own cake.” He snorted, half-voicing and idea on the built. And Susie gave him a quizzical look over such strange statement. “I don’t know, Campbell. Why don’t you go and pester him with those questions?” He questioned her with no room left for her to retort, as he grabbed his cup of coffee and proceeded to leave the room and return to his work office.

If he stayed there any longer, he would have started to feel frustrated over answers he wouldn’t be able to get right then. So, he needed to think, plot something to find when was his boyfriend’s birthday. Maybe some sort of surprise out of context so he would give answers in the middle of his confusion, could it work?

*-*-*-*-*

It was pretty late into the night, past 10:30, but for Wally was a usual time to arrive home since he has to keep all in check in the studio before leaving. Normally by this time he would go directly to Sammy, who’d be waiting for him, and have some “quality time” together, although rather brief, as Wally had to get soon to bed due to his day starting way earlier than Sammy’s. Maybe a little snack before bed. Not much really, it was just routine.

But what wasn’t in any sense routine was to find all in the apartment turned off, with only a faint glow that led him see a whole chocolate cake atop the kitchen counter and some burning candles on it.

“Uh, Sammy?” He called around, not having seen the man in question, only to be startled by his voice coming from around out the kitchen.

“Do you like it? I took a wild guess and thought you might like chocolate cake.” Sammy said, voice low and soft in a purr, almost inviting. Why was he doing it? Was some kind of proposal?

“Ah, well, most folks like chocolate cake, ain’t it?” Wally sputtered back, hesitantly. But Sammy paced towards him.

He looked scarily alluring, a rather strange yet enrapturing glint in his eyes, and Wally was unable to understand why all of this came to. Sammy got right in front of him, and not missing a beat, he encircled him and an hand was gently laid on Wally’s shoulder from the back, softly pushing him forward and towards the kitchen counter’s seat with the cake right in front of him; Sammy parting to the other side, retrieving a knife and some plates and getting ready for the unprompted event.

“Shall we begin?”

“Uh, Sammy...” Wally said but paused, refraining some words from just burst out and opting for continuing with caution. “...What’s... what’s all of this ‘bout?”

“Well, it’s to celebrate, of course!” He just stated as a matter of fact that Wally was unable to catch.

“Ce-celebrate? Celebrate what?”

“Oh, could be anything, actually. Like, a birthday.” Sammy murmured, leaving the young man even more befuddled than he already was.

“...Yer birthday was 3 months ago.” Wally said slowly after a pause, still trying to piece what his boyfriend was up to.

“It doesn’t have to be mine. What about yours?” There. He dropped it. Now Sammy only hoped for this to lead to what he wanted to know. Although the constricted, conflicted expression the janitor gave was certainly not part of what he expected.

“Sammy, it’s... ‘s not mah birthday.”

Silence overtook them. The only thing disturbing their quietness was the flickering of the candles, which wax kept melting in a steady pace.

“Oh, well.” Sammy continued, nonchalantly. “It’s hard to throw guesses when you have no clues. Then when is it?”

“Sammy--”

“What about this? I drop some guesses and you tell me if I’m close or not.”

“Sammy, this is--”

“Is it around spring, perhaps?”

“Sammy, no. It is--”

“Then what about fall? Is it close?”

“Sammy, just Drop It!” Wally slammed his hands on the counter, some candles being blown off by the fanning of his hands as some others dropped even more wax from the rattle.

As if running the most straining activity, Wally’s breathing was ragged, frantic, with his torso inflating and decreasing way notoriously. And now he sported a peculiar glint in his eyes; tears prickling his eyes shimmered with the glow from the lingering candles. Both remained there, unmoving. Sammy practically unable to react as he had no idea what had just transpired. Yet by the moment he decided to open his mouth, trying to say something, Wally just pushed away from the counter; the scratching sound from the stool he was sitting on being a piercing noise that Sammy barely could react with a wince, as the seat itself nearly toppled behind the young man. Wally stormed out of the kitchen, and the slamming of the door gave Sammy the shake he needed to properly react.

“Wally-- Wally, wait!” He called, leaving the kitchen, yet returning to blow off the rest of the candles and leaving again.

He slammed the door to their room open in desperation, unknowing and uncertain of what he did wrong. Wally wasn’t there, but the bathroom’s door was closed as well, locked. Sammy strode to that door, knocking it, leaning his ear trying to listen carefully for any sign his boyfriend could give.

“Occupied.” Was the rather dry answer he got, and so he tried again.

“Wally, you know it’s me.” He could hear the water splashing in the back from the running shower.

“I said: Occupied.” He reiterated, but there was a slight crack in his voice.

Sammy tried now by rattling the doorknob, fear building up within him from the uneasiness this ordeal left. Was he really angry at him from trying to guess his birthday? What did it all even mean? How could he blow up from something so common? Although he shook off that last thought, given he had no right nor room to judge what could upset anyone.

“C’mon, Wally!” He banged the door once more, and Wally flinched in the other side. He was sitting in the floor, back leant against the bathtub as the water from the shower fell inside it, some warm droplets bouncing and landing on his hair and shoulders, wetting his shirt in the process. He laid his arms atop his knees, face hiding in the space between his legs and chest, and fingers gripping tight the sides of his legs, nearly pricking skin with his nails weren’t for his trousers serving as a shield for his legs.

“Wally, please!” Begged the man in the other side of the door, confusion and fear creeping in his voice and Wally could not overlook it. “Can you tell me at least what I did wrong...?” One last thump, not as hollow as the previous knocks and bangs, but it pushed the door and rendered it still, probably from leaning his head in it this time. And Wally perked up his stare, eyes swollen and startled and a little panicked.

Because that was the question, no? What did he do wrong, indeed? Everyone had birthdays. Heck, he just celebrated a birthday that very same day! What was so strange on him wanting to know his? Even if he tried a weird move to allure him into telling, with the promise of a chocolate cake that most likely was unbound to whatever the answer he gave, was it really something wrong to wonder about something literally everyone had?

But he couldn’t. He wasn’t-- He did not—

“...Wally?”

“Nothin’.” Was a soft murmur that came from the bathroom, but the musician’s hearing still was sharp enough to at leas make out that he said something at least.

“What? Wally, what was that--” But he stopped on his tracks as a distinctive click resounded from the other side, and the knob slowly turned to let the door be opened, and reveal a rather worn-down man with wet curls, wet shirt and wet, singing eyes. Said man locked stares with him, affliction and sorrow flooding his eyes, and he just plummeted against the musician’s chest, as soft jerks from his shoulders gave away the silent sobs the janitor tried to contain.

*-*-*-*-*

It was past midnight already. Sammy had to juggle around his boyfriend to manage and get the shower turn off, risking some almost-slips that nearly sent him crashing to the tiled floor. But apart from that, Sammy didn’t dare to leave Wally’s side, and now both were lying on the bed, the pillows slightly wet from the moisture carried by the janitor’s hair and shirt. Wally was curled up, still tucked in his boyfriend’s chest, as the latter kept rubbing soft comforts across his back and his now-untied hair. Both silent. Both wide awake. One still confused as to what he did to hurt his lover this bad. The other still struggling with issues the first had no way of know nor had part in the reasons these things kept bothering him.

“Ya didn’t do nothin’ wrong...” A soft murmur rumbled through Sammy’s chest, prompting him to redirect his stare to his companion, even if only an image of messy curly hair tangled between his fingers was all he was able to look now. “’M sorry.”

“Wally, no, you don’t have to--” Sammy stumbled with his words, pretty much not expecting him to still be awake. “You--”

“--Shouldn't’ave reacted that way.” Wally cut him off and continued in his stead. “’S not like ya knew, anyways.”

“Maybe, but I still upset you.” No answer of any sorts, just silence and quietness. “I’m... I’m sorry, Wally. It just... Susie was talking, and made me think—There’s not too many thing’s I actually know about you, and well...” He trailed off, feeling the miniature figure in his arms going stiff for a moment. “Can I know what happened with it? Your birthday, I mean” He curled up even more. “Can I know when it is?” Wally shook his head against his chest, rubbing his forehead with his dress shirt in the action.

“’S not a good date.” Wally concluded; he wasn’t ready to share. And Sammy didn’t skip the slight crack in his whispered tones.

“Will I be able to know someday...?” His voice was soft, a pleading merging with the hope of wanting to know, to be there, to be with him. But after a few way too long seconds, Wally merely shrugged, uncertain even of himself.

Silence reigned once more. Wally jerked every now and then from the remaining sobs trapped in his chest, all the while Sammy kept with his line of thoughts, feeling unable do to anything else with the negatives his lover gave.

It wasn’t like he didn’t trust him; of that he was certain. Were that, he wouldn’t have recognized it as an issue in front of him, would he? After all, he admitted, even he himself had his own quota of things unprepared to share, albeit not even he believed his own could be nearly as painful as what the young man must have faced. But if that specific date brought up so many bad memories, then what about any other?

“What about today?”

“...huh?” Was the answer to a question that prompted Wally to part a little from his embrace, yet not enough to lift his stare, just enough to be better heard.

“I mean, I brought a cake, I put some candles on it... Is there anything that makes today a bad day for you?”

“Ya... ya can’t... pick up a random date and make it yer birthday...” Wally retorted, but perked up a little bit.

Keeping an almost serious tone, nonchalantly, Sammy shrugged. “Who says so?” And Wally finally looked up to him, eyes still reddened, but the faintest of smiles tickling the sides of his mouth.

“Still, can’t be today, ‘s Shawn’s birthday.”

“Number 1, people are born every day, every minute, to claim one specific day as exclusive for anyone. And number 2, probably you didn’t notice, but is past midnight. Shawn’s birthday is over.”

A little snort; Wally was loosening a bit and that was all that mattered to Sammy for the time being.

“Heh, alright. But ya can’t just-- pick a random day, anyways. Is called a Birth-day fer a reason!”

“Well, it doesn’t have to be a birthday, per say. What about... “Beginning day”? You know, so you keep the B-D and no one questions it.” He was pretty sure now it’d also help him to keep Susie’s pestering at bay with any random date. “Doesn’t have to be today either, if you want.”

A beginning day, Wally considered. Was... a weird concept, to be honest, but the prospect of start anew was something he chased since a long time ago. Never thought of giving it a proper day to commemorate, or celebrate, as Sammy put. But what date? Being on the run for so long didn’t help to keep track of days. The day he found the church? Was... quite a significative date, but his heart kept pushing for something relating Sammy. Can’t be their anniversary, wouldn’t make sense. Maybe something from before...

“April 20th.” He resolved, perking Sammy’s curiosity now.

“Really? Why then?”

But Wally only shrugged with a soft, heartfelt smile. And with no more explanation, he reached to Sammy’s lips, and planted a tender kiss on them, before returning to his secluded space between the musician’s arms, curled up, but hugging back this time.

“I love ya, Sammy.” He muttered, almost relieved, against the man’s chest. “Thanks fer ev’rything.”

Speechless, Sammy only returned the embrace, tightening his grip in loving protection, as he rested his cheek on his boyfriend’s hair.

“But you know what’s a shame?” Sammy prodded his boyfriend’s curiosity once more. “Still left like 7 months for that date! I hardly think the cake will last that long.”

“We can get another cake fer then!” Wally spurted between giggles.

“Yeah, but what about this one?”

“We could eat some now.”

“Nah, too late. I don’t pretend to sleep with a stomachache.”

“What ‘bout in the morning?”

“You have to go to work way earlier than me. Is not a good time for cake.”

Wally barely could believe it. Was Sammy actually ranting about eating cake? Although he had a clear suspicion as to why it came.

“What ‘bout this. Ya take some cake to tha studio, and leave it where only I can find it. Ya like it?”

“Eh, could be. But don’t complain if there’s not much cake left.”

A snicker bubbled up from within Wally, seemingly like self-validating his own suspicion.

“Hey, Sammy?”

“Mh?”

“Isn’t chocolate cake yer favorite?”

“Shut up, Franks.”

Yup, he was right.

#BATIM #Bendy and the Ink Machine #The Ink Demonth #BATIM AU #Bendy AU #Ink Shape AU #Sammy Lawrence #Wally Franks #Sammy/Wally #Susie Campbell #Hurt/Comfort #m/m fanfic #Lamb's work

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dracoqueen22 · 4 years

Text

[CR] Rescue Me

Title: Rescue Me Universe: Critical Role, Campaign Two, Alternate Reality Characters: Caduceus Clay, Fjord Rating: K+ Warning: Incident of Near-DrowningDescription: Caduceus’ first experience with the ocean is going rather poorly until he’s rescued by a very handsome lifeguard named Fjord.

For FjorClay Week, Day Six, Modern AU There's a certain arrogance one must have to venture into the ocean, Caduceus decides, and apparently, he is far too modest to face the relentless strength of the sea. He coughs, arms flailing, but another wave crashes over him, heavy and unyielding, pushing him below the surface. He can't see, can't hear, and the water burns in his nose, whips around his face, exerts a heavy pressure on his chest. Caduceus kicks his way to the surface, deciding his was an arrogance unfounded, and manages to get his head above water before another wave buries him, and down he goes, into the murk. Sand and seaweed swirl around him. His chest burns. His nose burns. Panic sets in, and he promises the Wildmother -- I'll be more gracious, I'll be more respectful, I'll be more humble, if only you'll save me.

Caduceus flails, another wave splashing down on top of him, the push and pull of the tide turning him in all directions. He has no idea which way it is to the surface. He's always been a passable swimmer. He thought the mild weather, the warm sun, surely he could swim like everyone else.

Arrogance, he thinks, is his downfall. And then there are arms, strong and warm around his torso, towing him toward the sun. They surface with a splash and the blue sky has never been so beautiful. "Hold on, I've got you," says a gruff voice as Caduceus splutters and coughs and clings for dear life to his savior. "Thank you," he gasps, heart racing as he sucks in heavy gulps of salty air. "Thank you so much." He gets a glimpse of a smile, bright gold eyes, green skin, tusks. "No problem. It's my job," says Caduceus' savior, and they start the slow, careful return to shore, Caduceus as weak as a kitten. He certainly feels like one, water-logged and a bit terrified, completely out of his depth, and clinging to the nearest source of stability. But his rescuer -- a half-orc Caduceus surmises -- is a strong swimmer, and he effortlessly brings Caduceus back to shore, back to the shallows, where he can finally get his feet beneath him. He coughs, dragging desperate breaths into lungs which ache, and a throat that burns like fire. He stumbles, knees wobbly, but his savior tucks himself against Caduceus' side, hooks an arm around his waist, and keeps him upright. "Easy does it," the man rumbles. "One step after another. There you go." "Thank you," Caduceus says again, and his rescuer looks up at him with a brilliant smile, and the cutest dimples Caduceus has ever seen. "You're welcome. But really, it's my job. Technically." He tightens his grip and half-guides, half-carries Caduceus to a nearby outcropping of sea rock. Caduceus gratefully sinks down onto it, his knees like jelly, his hair hanging around in his face in stringy clumps, his throat like fire, and his nose burning. He leans forward, his chest aching from the sensation of water in his lungs, trying to find calm. There's a warm hand on his back. "I'm going to get my bag, and then I'll be right back, all right? Just need one second." "Sure," Caduceus says around another wet cough. The warmth vanishes. His savior jogs across the sand and scoops up a bright red bag laying nearby, next to a pair of shoes and a discarded shirt. The half-orc is wearing a bright red pair of shorts, and Caduceus belatedly recognizes it as the standard uniform of a lifeguard. He thought this strip of beach was too secluded to have one. "I'm glad I decided to walk to work today," his savior says when he returns, dropping the bag and immediately rooting through it. He produces a wide towel, which he throws over Caduceus' shoulder. "How's that for luck?" Or fate maybe. Melora looking out for her faithful. "My good luck," Caduceus rasps and pulls the towel tighter around him. "The waves here are stronger than I expected." "Yeah, it's the jetties. They kind of... funnel the waves." His savior illustrates with his hands before he drops them back to his knees, crouching as he is besides Caduceus. "I wouldn't recommend swimming out here alone." Caduceus coughs into his hand. "I won't be making that mistake again." His rescuer roots around in his bag again before producing a thermos, which he offers to Caduceus. "Here. This should help." "What is it?" Caduceus asks, though he's already unscrewing the lid and taking a huge gulp. "Tea," his savior says as the overly sweet liquid flows over Caduceus' tongue. He makes himself swallow it, but yuck. Gross. That isn't tea. It's sugar water with only the vaguest hint of something steeped. Caduceus wrinkles his nose and hands it back. "That's not tea." "It's brewed tea leaves so that means it technically is." His savior chuckles but screws the lid back on and tucks it into his bag. "It's not good, is it?" "Sweet," Caduceus says, and smacks his lips, unsure which taste is worse, that of the salty ocean, or the sickly sweet liquid. "Too sweet. Can't taste the leaves." "Fair." He sticks out a hand. "I'm Fjord by the way." Caduceus clasps their hands together, impressed by the firm grip. Father always says you can tell a man's intentions by the character of his handshake. "Caduceus. Thanks for your kindness." "I mean, it's the least I can do." Fjord scrubs the back of his neck, his green skin turning a ruddy brown. "It's what anyone would do." "Maybe." Caduceus takes in a slow, deep breath that doesn't burn, calm finally settling around him. He's not shivering anymore at least, though he stares out into the ocean with some trepidation. "I should be more respectful of things with more power than me." Fjord rises to sit next to him, stretching out his legs with a soft groan. "That's a general rule." He leans forward, elbows on his knees. "Why were you swimming out here alone anyway?" "I do most things alone," Caduceus admits. "And I've always wanted to swim in the ocean so I thought it would be fun. And it was." Until he nearly drowned, it was spectacular. "No friends?" Caduceus finally manages to sit up straight, squeezing water out of his hair with the towel. "Few occasions to make them," he says, and gives Fjord a patient smile. "I was not only homeschooled, my family lives in a pretty remote place." Fjord's eyebrows crawl toward his short-cropped hair. "What are you doing here then? Vacation?" "I wanted to try something new." Caduceus twists his hair into a loose bun on the top of his head. He smiles as he hands the towel back to Fjord. "It's a bit damp, sorry." Fjord waves him off. "That's kind of what towels are for." Caduceus chuckles. "Yes, you're right." The sun warms his shoulders, his face, chasing away the stark chill of nearly-drowning. He feels more like himself now. "Anyway, I've taken too much of your time, Mr. Fjord. I'm all right now. I'm sure you have things you need to get to." "Hey now. Do I look like the sort of guy who'd just take off after rescuing someone from a near-death experience?" Fjord asks. He swipes the towel over his own head and body, whisking away the water, before sliding into his shirt, which is a shame honestly. Fjord has a very nice body. "Because, you know, I'm not that kind of guy." "I don't want to keep troubling you," Caduceus says. "Besides, I won't be going into the water anytime soon, so you don't have to worry." Fjord shakes his head. "It's not about that." He stands and plants his hands on his hips. "Also, not going back into the water is a bad idea. You just need to make sure you don't swim alone." Caduceus smiles and offers a soft laugh. "Alone is what I'm used to." "That's kind of sad, Caduceus." Fjord gnaws on his bottom lip, tusk pressing in on the soft flesh, before he snaps his fingers. "I've got an idea. Why don't you come with me?" "... with you?" Caduceus echoes as Fjord stoops to shove the towel back into the bag before zipping it shut and slinging it over his shoulders. "You can meet my friends, hang out with us, swim with other people nearby, that sort of thing." Fjord stands and holds out a hand to Caduceus. "I think Veth's planning on setting up a barbecue, and Beau brought her volleyball net. It'll be fun." "I..." Caduceus hesitates. Calliope told him not to go anywhere with strangers. She'd said it in jest, but it's a real point now. Except Fjord's not a stranger. He'd saved Caduceus' life. He's a good man. Caduceus is sure of it. "Sure." Caduceus takes Fjord's hand and lets the half-orc haul him to his feet. He might have the advantage of height on Fjord, but Fjord is significantly stronger. "I think that sounds nice." Fjord grins at him, and Caduceus' knees go a little weak. He's sure it must be because of his recent near-death experience, and not because Fjord's eyes are as beautiful as a field of goldenrod. "Good." He hooks his hand in the strap of his bag. "My friends are a weird and wild bunch, but I think you'll like them." "From a certain perspective, I'm weird," Caduceus says, and points to his stack of belongings, a little further up the beach. "Let me just get my things and.... uh... you said you were walking, right? I can give you a lift." Fjord falls in step beside him. "I mean, we're all a little weird, aren't we?" Caduceus tips his head back and laughs, nearly miss-stepping in the loose sand if not for Fjord grabbing his elbow to help him keep his balance. "The very best people are," Caduceus says. It's something from a book Clarabelle loves to read, over and over again, and the line has always stayed with him. Fjord smiles up at him. "Yeah, you're gonna fit in with us, just fine." Caduceus can't help but smile back, Fjord's amusement infectious, and his friendliness impossible to resist. Until now, he'd doubted his decision to leave home and try to forge his own path. But now he thinks he's starting to understand the Wildmother's urgings. There's a great big world out there, and people in it. People like Fjord. He's never been glad to nearly-drown in all his life. ****

a/n: Feedback is absolutely welcome! I’d love to know what you thought. I already have ideas brewing for a potential series for this... XD.

#fjorclayweek2020 #fjorclay #fjord #caduceus clay #caduceus clay/fjord #critical role fanfic #draco writes critical role

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thebiasrekkers · 4 years

Text

Way To You

For the @btswriterscorner - Amor Fabula Launch Project in celebration of the month of Valentine’s Day!

Plot: Taehyung is happy with his life because that’s how he’s supposed to feel. He lives his life by routine to the minute. In the new world order, love is a dangerous emotion - and therefore illegal. That’s perfectly fine - until the lingering ‘dreams’ of a strange woman throw him out of sync. Mostly because that woman isn’t his wife.

Rating: M // NSFW

Genre: dystopian! au/dystopian themes | angst | smut | fluff if you squint

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Female OC (Tempest Estrellado)

Warnings: Strong language, interracial relationship, mentions of drugs, blood, main character injury, implied smut

Word Count: 2,886

AN: This hot mess has 3 parts. Please enjoy and thank you for loving all that we do © thebiasrekkers (Admin T). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

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[ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

“Can we stay like this forever?” She always asked him this after. Their bodies drying in a cool summer breeze through an open window. Their limbs tangled and he could feel her breath against the skin of his neck. The gentle rise and fall of her shoulders. Taehyung kept his eyes closed, living within the sounds and sensations around him. His fingers could trace the colony of goosebumps on her skin. He could smell the heat of her so close. The faint sweet, salty mix of their love lingered on his lips turning upward into a dreamy smile. The rumble of his laugh deep and sensual caused her to smile.

He could always remember her eyes - they were unique. Leonine. A golden-amber concoction, a genetic mutation that added something wild to the already fierce attitude within that petite form.

His mouth formed her name, but he could never hear it. She tilted her gaze to his face as his fingers slid along her jaw.

He’d always say something - it was something that he knew he shouldn’t be saying. But, they said it to each other. They said it freely.

Then there was always pain that seared his mind.

Then the alarm would ring and it would be forgotten again.

5:30 am.

Wake up.

5:45 am.

Shower.

6 am.

Coffee. Toast. Protein bar.

6:15 am

Run 4 miles.

7 am.

Shower again. Protein bar. Protein Shake.

7:15 am.

Lock the door.

7:55 am

Arrive at work. Clock in.

8 am.

To say that Taehyung was methodical was to point out the obvious. He always showed up minutes early to work, making sure the office was lit and inviting. As inviting as their line of work was, anyway. He stared at a stack of folders on his desk. They never seemed to shrink, these stacks. Names, faces, and pertinent information lined flimsy manila folders.

It was time to gather candidates to increase the population.

He sipped a cup of coffee as the voices began to filter into the office. Taehyung carried the stack of folders to the meeting room nearby. A presentation loaded as he stood in the corner.

“Good morning, everyone. We’ve compiled the candidates for this year.” Everyone settled in their seats.

He talked numbers and statistics for almost 3 hours.

“Any other questions?” The room was silent as the lights brightened. “Alright, you know what to do.” They all stood with a nod in his direction before they filed out of the room.

12 pm.

Lunch and coffee in his office.

5 pm.

Debriefing with The Council liaison.

7 pm.

Lock up and head home.

8 pm.

Late Dinner.

“Taehyung, dinner is in the oven. I have to report to R&D tonight.” A female voice spoke softly as he walked into his home.

“I suppose it cannot be helped. Do be careful, April. Things have been slightly tense in the riot zone.” He hung up his jacket as his ‘Wife’ slid hers on. She offered a slight smile as she grabbed her badge.

“Rest well, Taehyung.” A brief touch on his shoulder. Like a dear friend wishing another friend well.

10 pm.

Sleep.

“Taehyung! Seriously! You’re slow as molasses.” A voice taunted him, a petite figure outlined in front of him. He could feel himself licking his lips. An eagerness, an urgency to get his hands on her.

She was teasing him. She knew better than to tease him. He felt heat fire through his veins. The world was so bright and vibrant. There was the crash of water, the air salty like the...sea?

The ocean - the moon was full. Full like he hadn’t seen it in ages. When was the last time the sky looked like this?

He called her name and she turned around, her full lips tilted upward in a smile. She reached behind her back tugging at the string of a bikini top. Turning away from him as it fell down her arms. He heard a sound, like an animal nearby.

He realized it was him. He growled as the sight of skin glowing under the moonlight fueled him further. It was like time sped forward and he saw her face beneath him. Their bodies intertwined, her face scrunched in orgasmic bliss as she purred. He was losing his mind, he could swear he felt her around him.

The sound of the ocean was like a lullaby as their voices crescendoed and they cried out freely. She dug her fingers into his back and dragged them across his shoulder blades. He roared as he exploded inside of her.

Time went funny as they lay together, again, on the sands. Her face obscured as she leaned over him. She smiled down at him, saying something. She called him...something. The world began to fizzle as exhaustion washed over him.

“We could stay like this forever, querido.”

The pain was stronger this time.

5:31 am

Turn the alarm off.

Taehyung clawed at the throbbing pain in his skull. He stumbled to the bathroom, reaching for the vitamins April reminded him constantly not to forget. He swallowed them down with a glass of water.

He winced as the pain throbbed behind his eye. His hands gripped the sink until his knuckles were white.

It took ten minutes for the pain to subside.

Taehyung saw the reflection in the mirror and hardly recognized it. There were bags under bloodshot eyes. He splashed cold water on his face. He stripped down to jump into a hot spray of water. He stood there for fifteen minutes letting the water loosen his muscles.

“What the hell was that?”

Flashes of dreams kept creeping into his mind, the pain increased each time he tried to access them.

7:27 am

Hasty breakfast.

7:58 am

Barely makes it ‘early’.

8:05 am

Two cups of coffee as he grabs the stack of folders for today’s patients.

“Good morning, everyone. We’ve compiled the candidates for today.” Everyone settled in their seats.

There was a new face today. It was scary how all heads turned in her direction. She adjusted the glasses on her face as she stood.

“I’ll be working with your department as the liaison from the Medical Division starting today.” She approached Taehyung with a hand extended. “My name is Tempest Estrellado.”

She looked up at him ...leonine eyes. Taehyung’s brow twitched momentarily as he accepted her hand. “Ms. Estrellado, a pleasure. I look forward to our continued success.” He held her hand for one second more than he should have. “If you please take your seat?” She offered a curt nod before settling in her seat. Tae cleared his throat, clapped for the lights to dim.

Taehyung paced around the table slowly as he flipped between screens. Numbers, percentages, and her eyes are so bright even in the low light. He shook his head as he found himself staring at the top of her head.

The peek of collarbone caused his lips to part as two people spoke on some extra bit of information just made available. His thoughts suddenly wandered to the delicate fingers tapping on the keypad of her tablet.

“Mr. Kim…” Someone calling him had his gaze snapping upward. The young tech from R&D tilted her head. “...your thoughts, sir?”

“Ah, right. If we run into the same rabid sequences as last year? Protocol as normal unless we get clearance to combine genetic materials. It is still a curious matter for The Council if proper citizens can come from Rebel couplings.” He waved a hand moving toward the front of the room.

“Any other questions?” The room was silent as the lights brightened. “Alright, you know what to do.” They all stood with a nod in his direction before they filed out of the room.

1 pm

Lunch.

1:30 pm

“Mr. Kim.” A voice caused him to look up from his desk.

“Yes, Ms. Estrellado?” He wiped his mouth, cleared his hands and stood. An arm spread to offer her the seat in front of his desk.

She wore her hair in a ponytail, slicked back. Its length easily the middle of her back. She was petite - even for what he was used to. She was maybe 5’5 outside of the two-inch heels she wore, that is.

“...so I’m going to need a space to work. I hope you don’t mind?” She arched a brow as he shook his head again.

“Uh, n-no. That’s not a problem. The office next to me is quite large. I’ll have it ready for you tomorrow, should that suffice?” He maintained his professionalism as she offered that slight smile.

“Splendid.” She stood offering her hand once more. “I’ll be heading to collect my things - I’ll be here bright and early.”

They shook hands.

She left his office, and he found himself sagging against his desk.

The pain ringing like a bell in his ears.

Promise me, Taehyung. No matter what. Promise.

He shook his head violently as he settled back at his desk. It seemed like he stared at nothing until his phone rang.

“This is Mr. Kim.” A receptionist pleasantly announced his Wife calling.

“Taehyung.” April spoke, that pleasant friendly tone, “...are you alright?” His brow furrowed as she asked.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

“You didn’t eat your protein bar this morning. That’s unlike you.” He could detect the stirring of worry.

“Ah, I had a bit of a headache this morning.” He sighed quietly.

That worry seemed to turn into something...else. “Did you take your vitamins, Taehyung? You know how important it is for you to take your vitamins.”

There was something almost cold, ominous in her tone. His brow furrowed deeply as he answered her, making sure the hesitation was absent from his voice. “Of course, April. I took them immediately when I woke up. I was quite fine after a shower. I think I was just alarmed at the one minute tardy. I assure you, I’m fine.”

There was a long, thick silence before she spoke again. Her tone was light and friendly once more. “I’m sure it was jarring, Taehyung. Just let me know if you feel strange, alright?”

He forced himself to smile, so it filtered through into his voice. “Of course, April. I need to stay late tonight. We have a new colleague who’ll be using the empty office. I’d like to have it ready for her use.”

“Of course, Taeyung. You’re not the only ones busy. I will leave dinner for you. Have a good night, Taehyung.”

“Of course, April. You do the same.” The line goes dead but he still holds the phone aloft. It’s almost a full minute before he placed the handset onto its base. There was that bothersome echo in the back of his mind again.

It was exhaustion - wasn’t it?

10:37 pm

Nails on a chalkboard. That was the sound of the heavy furniture sliding across the floor. Tae had removed his jacket and dress shirt. His white t-shirt had slightly grayed from cleaning the other office. He worked quietly adjusting the office to spec. There was a certain placement for all of the furniture in the office. They all looked the same, even when facing different directions.

11: 32 pm

Taehyung grunted as he dropped a box onto the floor. He rotated his shoulder to work out the strange soreness. It was unusual for him to suffer such strains. “Mm, I didn’t have much to eat today.” He sighed. That conversation with April caused his brow to furrow. He glanced at his watch with a deeper sigh. He didn’t understand that sudden change in her demeanor. He didn’t understand why he felt the need to keep up appearances. There had been no reason to be dishonest with her.

She was his wife. She was also a medical researcher. She would have understood his symptoms, right? April would have offered some kind of solution, right?

Why am I thinking about this so hard? Taehyung pushed to stand. One more cup of coffee would give him the energy he needed to push through. That’s what he believed. The office was a strange place at night. There were a few occasions that warranted his presence in the office so late. He shouldered into the break room, pulling the fridge open in the darkness. The light seemed eerie as perfectly situated rows of water and milk lined the shelves. There were fruits and vegetables in the drawers. Small bags of freshly cooked proteins.

He reached for one of each, plus a bottle of water. He waited those few extra minutes to brew a small pot of coffee. His hand scrunched over the tops of the bags holding the food. The other held a hot cup of caffeine against his face.

1:48 am

Exhausted.

Taehyung was exhausted and he couldn’t explain why this sensation caused something to spark inside of him. He sprawled on the floor, making sure not to disturb the exact precision of his work. His eyes closed as he paid attention to the thundering in his ears. The tightness in his chest as he fought for more air.

Why did this interest him so? Why did it seem suddenly...familiar?

“I shouldn’t have had that extra coffee.” His voice was gruff as he drifted into sleep. Just a small nap, just a moment to close his eyes and rest.

The sky was bright, fiery - hot.

“Taehyung!” She called him her hand extended as he pulled himself up from the ground. “We have to get out of here.” Those leonine eyes were hard and filled with determination. He could feel his heart thundering in his chest.

The coppery taste of blood filled his mouth causing him to spit. The sound of gunfire echoed above their heads. They returned to fire on opposite sides hiding behind the shattered pieces of building near them.

“We have to make a run for it.” He told her. She frowned but hardened her gaze with a nod. They were sitting ducks this way. Taehyung reached out and grabbed her hand - there was a break in the fire. Then they ran - hard.

“We have to find a way to meet up with the resistance, Tae!” The female’s voice was loud over the sound of violence around them.

“We have to live through this first!” He growled pulling her in front of him as he spun around a corner. “Listen to me, we …” His hands framed a set of tiny shoulders, holding them firm. “...we need to split up.”

And as he anticipated, “No. NO! Fuck no, Tae! Tae that’s madness! We can’t!”

“LISTEN TO ME.” He shook her harder feeling his brow crease. He didn’t like it. He abhorred the idea of being away from her. But this new world order gave them no option. They had to find their way to the Rebels that would help them. “Please, I beg you. Please, we have to split here. I’ll draw their fire. You have to run. I promise you, I’ll find you.”

He hated it. He hated seeing those rare eyes filled with tears. He hated seeing that strength seep from her. “Please.” He framed her face as their foreheads touched. She grabbed his wrists squeezing her eyes shut.

“Don’t you die, Taehyung.” The female took a shuddering breath as her tears fell over his fingers. “Do you hear me? Don’t you fucking die. I will find you.” She dug half-moon indentations into his arm as their lips smashed together for the last time. He could feel his tears burning hot craters against his cheeks.

“Go ____..” He croaked as she sobbed quietly. She finally pulled away running toward a thicket of bushes. Taehyung felt himself hyperventilating as he held his weapon tight. He wanted to run after her. He wanted to scream for her to stay where she was. He swallowed his cowardice as he moved beyond the cover to open fire on the enemy.

I won’t die.

He pushed toward the open field, drawing their attention to him. Searing pain radiated on his left side, causing him to take a knee. The world was silent as the sky seemed to come to meet him - or he met it?

The weightlessness of the world was apparent as the blue of the sky filled his eyes. The fiery blast sent him, others, and debris hurtling to the sky. He heard the crack of his body as he landed on his spine.

The tears filled his eyes as the world crumbled around him. He made a promise. “I’m sorry…” Taehyung coughed blood in spurts as his world began to fade to black.

Taehyung. He could hear her voice even as his body pulled him into the darkness.

Taehyung, wake up! It was her. He was sure of it.

I want to go back to her. I want to go back to her!

Taehyung!

He sat up grabbing the arm that shook him from his slumber. His eyes wide as their close proximity gave them both pause. “T-Tempest?” There was worry etched across her face. He could feel her pulse racing under his hand.

They both glanced at their connected skin - and Taehyung saw the time.

7:52 am

#btswriterscorner #mknlinenet #smutcentralnet #btswriterscollective #bangtanarmynet #amor fabula #btswriterscorner presents #biasrekkers presents #taehyung smut #V fanfic #taehyung fanfic #angst #eventual smut lots of angst

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todefine-istolimit · 4 years

Text

It Don’t Run in Our Blood- Chapter 3

Au: royalty

Rating: Mature

Ships: royality, dukexiety, loceit

Warnings: major character death (but not really), sympathetic dark sides

Summary: Roman is a prince in love with Patton, a commoner. Remus is a knight who has fallen in love with his trusted servant Virgil. Logan is the royal adviser who’s Love was lost at sea (But he’s not really dead. think princess bride here). Now the trouble is navigating laws, love, and social conventions, all while carrying around shiny swords! ((Title from Royals by Lorde))

If you prefer to read it on ao3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21602698/chapters/51510424

Word count: 1.3k

A/N: welp here we go with chapter three, a little Remus perspective and pining~ (sorry I took forever to post again, this has actually been sitting in my docs for weeks and I just haven’t had time to edit it until today)

Remus stood by the door to the armoury watching for a moment as Virgil polished his armour. Virgil was like muscular, this had escaped Remus until yesterday when he joked about Virgil staring at him naked. Then Remus had realized he wished it was true, he wished Virgil would look at him like that.

Last night he had been hit with dreams that the situation had been the other way around and Remus had been the one staring.

Remus had a crush and he was dying because Virgil could have literally anyone he could possibly want and there was no way in hell his first choice was gonna be Remus after how much they argued and bicker. Especially since Remus was a prince and Virgil had always expressed disdain for the rich of the kingdom.

He cleared his throat and Virgil whipped around.

He visably relaxed when he saw it was Remus. Remus shook off the feelings that evoked and spoke, “Virgil, my brother has invited me on a trip to the summer mansion in the woods to ‘hunt’ and hide from the government. So, I will be leaving immediately to go disembowel animals with Logan to cover for my brother spending time with his boyfriend. If you would please saddle my horse then you can have a few days off to yourself to get boyfriend or kill a man your choice."

Remus hoped Virgil chose the second option, why did he keep bringing up Virgil getting a boyfriend? That was the last thing he wanted. The words just kept falling out of his mouth without meaning for them too. He hated the idea of Virgil being with someone else, but that was stupid because he wasn’t with Virgil.

He hoped that Virgil didn’t like his brother.

"You’re going out into the forest with just his majesty for back up? Please, as if. I’m coming with you,” Virgil rolled his eyes as if this was a given.

Remus would love for Virgil to come along but he wasn’t sure if he would be able to stop himself from flirting with him if they were out in the woods without as many prying eyes.

“It’s not just with my brother, Logan will be there as well, and Patton.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, “Yeah and Logan is the only one out of the four of you who keeps a level head in a crisis, I’m coming.”

Virgil could have phrased that last part many different ways that might have helped Remus’ mind not snicker a little at it.

Remus shook his head managing to restrain himself from just saying what was in his head for once, "Then I’ll just end up protecting you from being killed by assassins who would take your head for a trophy, so stay. You’ll just be a distraction,” Remus said being entirely truthful because even now Virgil was quite distracting.

“Oh please assassins aren’t even the concern. In those wood the thing to worry about is rock slides and you know it. And anyway, distracting from what? Making awkward conversation with Logan and trying to kill enough animals to make it seem like you guys were actually hunting? I’m the best hunter out of us anyway. ”

Virgil was right. Logan was the best swordsman out of them, Remus was the best at general combat, but Virgil was the only hunter worth his salt among them.

Remus was running out of good reasons for Virgil to stay.

Virgil shrugged, “But fine, I have a few days off. I might just so happen to wander into the forest following the same path that you guys did.” He smirked, knowing he won.

Remus sighed and ran a hand through his hair, so he really didn’t have a choice in it anyway, “Fine just come then! What do I care? Get ready to go.”

Virgil grinned and Remus was almost certain he was going to have a heart attack if Virgil didn’t stop being this way immiediatly. Remus didn’t know what “this way” was, but he knew Virgil needed to stop being it or Remus would die from the strain of not saying anything.

The two of them made their way to the stable and Virgil started pulling out all the horse tack

Then Remus realized something, “Well if your coming you should go pick up Patton, it’s less suspicions for you to just be picking up your friend for a trip into the woods."

"Good point, here, you get the horses strapped up, ” Virgil ordered and dumped the saddle into Remus’ arms. Remus immediately lost his grip on it and it fell to the ground, but Virgil was already walking away. Remus was almost certain that was on purpose.

Remus knew that if it was anyone else doing that he would have fired them several times over, but this guy… it was like Remus was a puppet and anywhere Virgil tugged he just jerked in that direction. That should be scary, but Virgil had more than earned his trust.

He decided that if Virgil would be with them that weekend then he would tell Virgil how he felt. He hated having secrets and this one had been weighing on him for like almost a whole day now.

~some time later~

They were riding through the woods all five of them and Remus was chattering endlessly.

“-And of course those are just the natural disasters! But what we really should thinking about is the bandits who would just love to kidnap Patton and Virgil and hold them for ransom!”

“Okay I get Patton by why me?” Virgil asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Because they would ransom you I already said that, ” Remus rolled his eyes

“Well obviously he’s saying he would pay large sums of money for your safety. Which would indicate that he values your continued existence,” Logan said dryly, Remus had made the mistake of telling Logan about his crush.

“Yeah something like that,” Remus looked down at the past below him and his horse, hoping that nobody saw the blush building on his cheeks.

“Mr. Logan your embarrassing them!” Patton whispered.

“'Mr. Logan’?” Logan murmured in confusion.

Virgil cleared his throat, “Well if I had any I, I would pay large sums of it for you too."

Remus’ breath caught in his throat and he made a sound akin to a rabbit being struck by an arrow.

Roman grown loudly from the leading horse, "I cannot believe that after all this time the best you can offer each other is 'I wouldn’t let you get murdered by kidnappers’. Is that really the highest compliment you can offer each other?”

Virgil laughed, “Oh yeah your majesty let me just start being like you when Patton and constantly dote on how beautiful my prince is. Erm well that is- it- well not my prince of course! That wasn’t what I meant and… uh sorry.”

Remus didn’t mind being Virgil's… wait no focus diffuse the tension!

“Aww Virgil do you think I’m beautiful?” Remus laughed. Virgil was beautiful in the way the ocean was during a storm. Throwing boats against the rocks, shattering them. You were a little afraid of what would happen if you went too close. You might lose yourself.

And die a horrific painful death but that part didn’t apply here.

“So what was that you were saying about wild animals?” Virgil said changing the subject not at all smoothly.l

“Yes!” He said looking around frantically for something to talk about, “yes there’s wild animals all over these woods. Rabbits, squirrels that the chew your toes off of your feet and rip out your hair!”

“Remus they’re squirrels not exactly monsters,” Virgil laughed

Remus stopped short, “What did you just call me?”

Virgil stopped too and looked at Remus with wide eyes realizing what he said, “I’m sorry! I meant your highness, sire! I didn’t mean to call you by your name, of course…” He exhaled heavily, “God I’m just going to go ride at the back of the group.”

And Virgil fell back as the rest of them continue riding leaving Logan riding in between himself and Remus.

It was a long ride after that.

tag list: @i-have-n0-idea-what-im-d0ing @melodiread @itismakyo @dabookwormcat @lo-ceit @gayformlessblob @ollyollyoxinfree

#dukexiety #loceit #royality #royalty au #sanders sides #patton sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #remus sanders #logan sanders #my writing

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ivywing · 5 years

Text

Hollice Selkie!AU

so I promised my sister I’d write this, and then it sort of spiraled...

anyway, here’s the first part. this is honestly pretty light on the shipping, so sorry about that.

Chapter Two

@chelsvans @daughterofsarenrae @some-dragon-bitch

---

If there’s one thing that never gets old, it’s the smell of gunpowder in the morning.

Hollis grips their saber tightly, brandishing it with a grin as a bullet ricochets off their blade. They cut down one of the enemy sailors, kicking the wounded man away before delivering a sharp kick to a soldier sneaking up behind them. “Find the captain yet?” they shout to Keith, who’s busy securing the trading vessel to the Hornet’s Nest.

“Not yet!” the quartermaster shouts, shooting a smile as one of Hollis’s daggers sinks into the chest of a sailor sneaking near him.

They groan, then shove their way past a frightened cabin boy as they rush towards the below-deck. It’s less hectic than it was up above, but by the time Hollis reaches the door at the end three more sailors lay dead or bleeding on the floor, and the one sailor wise enough to surrender is kind enough to lead them right to the captain’s quarters.

Inside, they find a man drunk off his ass, with a pistol in one hand and a shot glass in the other. “Well, if it isn’t the Yellowjacket,” he slurs, sloshing whiskey over his blue velvet coat. He gestures his gun vaguely at the cowering sailor, who knows better than to run but still cowers behind Hollis’s back. “Attacking a navy ship? Surely even you know there’s not much loot to be gained.”

Hollis gives a cocky grin, hand moving to their saber slowly. “Nah, this is personal.”

The captain laughs, then takes another drink of whiskey. “Fine. What do I care?” He shoots at Hollis’s head, but the pirate throws their arms up.

The bullet pierces the fabric but ricochets off the dagger hidden up their sleeve. Still, the impact is enough to sting, and Hollis winces as they step forward, pressing the blade against the captain’s neck. A thin stream of blood runs down his neck, staining the cerulean fabric a dark color. Hollis sneers. “Say your prayers.”

The captain laughs drunkenly. “Fine. I pray you’re hung for this.” He laughs again, louder and louder, only stopping once his head is separated from his neck.

The sailor whimpers, leaning against the wall in shock. His hand is clutched to his shirt, and he eyes the bloody blade with terror. “Oh god, oh god please no, please, god-”

Hollis snorts, picking up a spare cloth and tossing both it and the blade to the sailor. “God didn’t help me, and I doubt he’ll help you. Now, could you kindly clean the blood off of that? You’ll be rewarded.”

The sailor eyes them nervously, but when Hollis clears their throat he begins wiping at the blade in earnest. The pirate captain begins searching through the belongings of the captain, stopping when they come across a lockbox hidden beneath the desk. “Hey, kid.”

The sailor yelps, dropping the saber. “Y-yes, sir? Ur- ma’am?”

Hollis rolls their eyes. “Just call me Captain, kid. And calm down, if I wanted you dead, you’d be dead.” The kid flinches at that. “What’s your name? Can’t keep calling you kid.”

“Oh. Uh, it’s Owens, captain. Calvin Owens.”

Hollis nods. “Good name. Anywho, where’s the key for this thing?”

The kid gulps. “I- I don’t know, captain. And that’s the honest truth!” he squeaks when Hollis fixes him with a skeptical look. “I’ve only been here for a few weeks. They didn’t even tell me where we were going, they didn’t let me off the boat, I don’t know anything-”

Hollis puts their mouth over Calvin’s mouth. “Stop talking.” Once the kid has taken a few deep breaths, they examine the box again, grinning when they see the weaknesses of the hinges. With a few strikes of a nearby paperweight the metal warps and comes off, and Hollis pries the box open, to find-

They hold up a pale sealskin coat, glancing at Calvin. “What is this doing in here?”

For once, the kid seems more confused than terrified. “I- huh. That’s weird.” He squints, fingers twitching like he wants to touch it.

Hollis hands the kid the pelt, taking the saber in return. “Walk with me. My crew won’t bother you if you’re with me.”

The kid follows after Hollis cautiously, the pelt still in his hands. Only two of the sailors are still on the floor, with a trail of blood leading to the door. One of the sailors still on the floor groans softly, clutching his stomach. Hollis rolls their eyes and pulls out a roll of bandages that they keep on them at all times, cutting away the shirt and applying a basic bandage. “Quit whining, you’ll live.”

The man spits in their face, clearly trying to rile them up, but Hollis just rolls their eyes, wiping the spit off. They shove the man up and against the wall, marching him forward.

When the three of them step out on the deck, the Hornets have corralled the surviving sailors into a line, keeping them in check. Two of their members are dragging a lockbox onto the Nest, while a third is carrying a barrel of ale. The sailors that aren’t injured have their hands tied behind their back, save for a young man about Hollis’s age who’s talking quietly with Keith.

Hollis whistles to get everyone’s attention. Once they’re looking at them, they shove the wounded sailor into the arms of one of the better-off sailors, then turn back to the other sailors. “Who’s the first mate on this ship?”

A rather bruised older man steps up, cradling a bloody arm. “That’s me.” He dips his head. “If you’re going to kill me, at least spare the crew.”

Hollis snorts, tossing the captain’s hat to the man. “Please. You’re not worth the trouble.” They gesture to Calvin, who yelps and skitters forward. They pluck the seal coat from his arms, presenting it to the first mate. “Why was this in a chest in your captain’s room?”

The man squints at it, though it can’t be very easy with the wounded eye- Hollis represses a wince at it, knowing how painful a black eye can be. “I don’t know,” he grunts.

The man who was talking with Keith blinks and steps forward, stopped only by two of the Hornets crossing sabers to prevent him from coming near. “That’s mine,” he says, voice stronger than could be expected from another in his predicament. “He took it from me, to keep me on the ship. But it belongs to me.”

A few of the captured sailors begin mumbling. Hollis raises an eyebrow, holding the coat up. “Why would you have a seal pelt?”

The man’s hands twitch. “It- it’s special. A gift. And it belongs to me.” Upon closer inspection, Hollis finds themself enchanted with the man. He’s got straw-blond hair that curls around his face, and his blue eyes are soft- not with naivete, but with a sort of kindness rarely seen in these parts. Hollis isn’t normally one for a pretty face, but damn. The man steadies himself. “Please?”

Hollis glances at the fur in their hands. It’s rich, much richer than any fur they’ve seen before, and it almost seems warm in the chilly evening air. For a moment they’re tempted to just keep it for themself, but that damned conscious has to act up. After a moment they sigh, and Hollis tosses him the pelt. “Here. Take it, if it’s so important.”

The man stares at them, gobsmacked, for a minute, before gripping the fur tightly to his chest. “Thank you,” he grins, right before he bolts. The pirates make a move to grab him, but all previous exhaustion is gone. Hollis rushes to the side of the ship, unable to stop him from leaping. The man hits the water, disappearing into the water with a small splash. They wait for the man to reappear, but he’s gone.

The Hornets watch the rest of the sailors cautiously, keeping any man who would follow the deserter’s example from the edge of the ship. Hollis takes a deep breath and slams their saber against the deck. “Listen up!” they growl. “There are enough supplies to get you sorry lot to the nearest port. Everything else belongs to the Hornets, got it?” The sailors give them a glare, but none of them are stupid enough to try anything while disarmed. “This is what happens when you pick a fight with the Hornets.”

“Coward!” one sailor calls. The Hornets press forward, but the man staggers forward. He’s old, possibly the oldest person on the ship, with a peg leg and a sunken-in skull, half his face long-since destroyed. “Yer a coward, is what ye are!”

Keith raises his saber. “Shut up, you-”

“Enough, Keith.” Hollis strides forward, placing a hand on their first mate’s arm. “He’s not wrong.” They cock a grin at the man

The man points a crooked finger at Hollis, and the pirate feels their blood go cold. The single eye bores into them, and when the man speaks, it’s as if it’s the two of them on this ship, no more.

“Until the Sea herself has forgiven you, may you never know peace.”

Hollis staggers back, gripping the edge of the ship. They don’t even register Keith until their first mate shakes them by the shoulders. “Hollis? Hollis, snap out of it!”

They shake their head, taking a deep breath. The salt of the sea. Gunpowder. Sweat. Blood. Your cologne. Once they have their bearings, they swallow and right themself, putting on a strong face. “I’m fine.” They glance to the old man, surprised to find him gone. “C’mon. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

The sailors retreat to the side of the ship farthest from the Nest as the pirates whoop, racing back to their ship. Hollis, for their part, leans on Keith, unable to stop the shaking in their hands. “Did you hear?” they ask their first mate.

“Hear what?”

“The man. What he said.”

Keith gives his captain an odd look. “The man didn’t say anything. He just looked at you, and you nearly passed out.”

Hollis shakes their head, stepping over onto the Nest.

The partying is wild that night. Not much money to be gained from sacking a Navy vessel, that much is true, but the morale boost of winning is enough to make the crew loud and lively.

Hollis themself has had three drinks at this point and is quietly nursing a fourth in the corner. They’re not on the ship, and are instead having their celebration at a tavern in a shore town that pretends they don’t know where the Hornets get their money.

A young lady sidles up to them, her strange brown eyes nearly glowing in the low light. “Hey there, stranger. You’re new around here.”

They shoot her a sly grin. “Sorry, darling, but you’re not my type.” It’s not exactly true- they’ve known a woman or two in their bed, though not recently, and she’s certainly a lovely young lady in their age range. But the man from earlier sticks in their head, refusing to leave with the tide, and no matter how much alcohol they drink he refuses to leave.

She rolls her eyes. “Who said I was flirting, stranger?” She waves her hand, and a small crystal bead dances along her fingers and palm, before disappearing down her sleeve again. “Tell me, stranger, you’re not a stranger to magic, are you?”

They snort. “What seafarer worth their salt is?”

“Fair enough.” The witch snatches the drink from their hands and, before they can stop her, downs the rest of the ale. She laughs, slamming the cup down on the bar. “Damn, this shit never gets better.”

They glare. “Then why’d you drink it, asshole?”

“Because I need to be drunk for this bit.” She opens her satchel and rustles around in it for a minute, before pulling out a rolled-up piece of parchment. She shoves it into their hands, sighing. “I cannot believe I’m giving this away, but, debt is debt.”

They frown. “The hell is this?”

“It’s a map,” she drawls as if they’re stupid. “Leads to a deposit of pearl oysters. Normally I wouldn’t give this to someone else, but I don’t know how else to repay.”

Their head swims. “Repay? Repay what?” Is the alcohol tainted? They try to get up, but they stumble, black spots dotting their vision. “What did you do to me?” they snarl, trying to fumble for their sword, but their hands feel numb, and it’s hard to think.

The stranger runs a hand along their sweaty brow, cooing softly. “Don’t worry, just a necessary precaution.” The feeling passes, leaving them tired and pliant as she maneuvers them into sitting into a real seat with some other Hornets around them. “Hey, I think your cap’n is sick or something. Are they lightweight?”

Keith frowns, pressing a hand to their forehead. “How much did you drink, boss?”

Hollis groans. “It's not the ale. The- the witch.”

The woman snorts, sitting on the table. “How long did that take you to figure out, genius?” She points to the scroll. “Anywho. Pearl deposit. Only harvest for one day- no more, or you’ll exhaust the reef. And don’t go during low tide, or you’ll be sitting ducks for any sharks- or worse- that decide to come by.” She pulls out a small trinket. “The pearls can be sold, or, if you make a necklace of them, it’ll protect you from storms at sea.” She glares at one of the Hornets. “Well? Write it down!”

They yelp and begin to scribble on a spare piece of parchment. Keith, on the other hand, glares at the witch. “Hey, you don’t get to just come in here and boss around the Hornets, you hear me?

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, sure, threaten the woman who’s giving you the location to a pearl hotspot. Smart move, sponge for brains.”

Keith moves to get up, but Hollis grabs him by the shoulder and all but shoves him back into his seat. “Knock it off,” they grunt, their vision slowly coming back to them. They fix the witch with a stare. “How do I know I can trust you?”

She shrugs, brown eyes flashing orange for a moment. “I mean, I don’t lose anything if you don’t go. But you helped a friend of mine, and for that I owe you something. This is the least effort I have to put in.”

One of the Hornets snorts. “You can’t be serious. Boss, we’re not going to fall for this, right?”

Hollis glares at the witch, but the man from before flashes in their mind. Are the two connected?

They sigh, forcing themselves into a sitting position. “If this is a trick, I will kill you,” they growl at the witch.

“Oh, my gods, do you want the map or not?”

They glance at the roll.

“We leave in the morning.”

#hollice #selkie au #pirate au #jake coolice #well he's not named but he's there #hollis amnesty #keith amnesty #taz amnesty #wow a real ass thing!#see i can be productive #god i'm so tired

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beingatoaster · 4 years

Note

Yelkha: 🃏😊🎉🐝; Halifax: 🐇🌊👻💋; Bloom: 🍰💐💳🍑

I’m sorry this took so, SO long, it got lost in my inbox. ;o; But I finally got to it!

Yelkha

🃏 If you had to choose one tarot card to represent them, what would it be?

Strength! Both upright and reversed--she’s very stubborn and intense, but also struggles with controlling her anger.

(Specifically in regards to Bryn, I think the High Priestess is most relevant before she realizes It’s Okay To Be Gay, and the Lovers afterward, but that’s more relationship-oriented.)

😊 What do they consider to be their best quality? What actually is their best quality?

I’m pretty sure she thinks her best quality is her bond with animals--the thing that everyone back in the tribe valued her for. And honestly that is pretty high up there? But I think her actual best quality is her willingness to accept new information and change her mind when she’s been proven wrong.

🎉 Do they celebrate any holidays? How do they celebrate?

She probably celebrates most of the old holidays that she did with her tribe! I don’t know what all of them would be, but I think there’s at least a spring holiday related to calving, and a fall holiday about breaking/taming young aurochs in which there’s a lot of riding contests. Away from home she keeps them more quietly, with Gurgiu at first, then letting Bryn in.

Any holiday Bryn tells her about and enjoys, she throws in on 100%. She can’t participate in the religious rites of the solstices and equinoxes, but she’s respectful of them, and anything that’s more festivals and fun she is completely there for.

🐝 What stereotypical high school clique would they fit into?

Oh, definitely the jocks. Not the tall skinny basketball girls, the tough rough-and-tumble roller derby girls. She’d be the token straight up until she realized that, uh, she wasn’t.

---

Hallifax

🐇 What animal would they say best represents them?

Crawdad! Little pinchy riverbottom creatures living in the mud and biting anyone who offends them. I hate crawdads, but Hallifax would love them.

🌊 What one place do they really want to visit and why?

The Plane of Water. She doesn’t expect to actually find any relatives there or anything; she just wants to know what it’s really like. If it’s at all like her mother’s stories or her dad’s garbled, fantasized versions of same.

👻 Do they believe in ghosts, aliens, and the occult in general?

Oh, completely. Aside from living in a DnD world, she’s superstitious as hell, even if you posit a non-magic AU. She carries around good luck charms and throws salt over her shoulder and knocks on wood if something makes her nervous and every other little thing she can to keep evil away--she’s got enough haunting her without inviting more.

💋 What traits do they like in other people? What traits do they not like?

She likes competence, courage, good humor, enough softness to sink into and kiss.... She doesn’t like someone who won’t stand up to her, or mealy-mouths around things, or is too small and shrinking and shy. Gotta be tough on the sea!

---

Bloom

🍰 What’s their favorite food?

Anything honey-based or honey-flavored. It’s the most common sweet in the wild, which means he’s spent a lot of time developing his taste for it.

💐 Do they collect anything? What’s their most prized possession?

He collects Wild Shapes! :P Bloom doesn’t carry around a lot of physical mementos, he prefers memories and knowledge (songs, how to craft things, etc.) that can be kept in his heart. But he does keep little tokens that are important to him. Probably the most prized thing is a string from his father’s harp, which he keeps tied around his ankle under his leggings, where it’s well-hidden and well-protected. He couldn’t keep anything else of his parents, after the fire, but he and his mother both took one of the old strings, since they couldn’t play it anyway, and by the time they had to sell it they didn’t even think to put them back, just sold it as-is to someone who was probably going to restring and restore it anyway.

💳 What one thing that they don’t need do they waste the most money on?

Sweets of any kind. As much for Housin and Fifth Red Petal as for himself, but Bloom is the one most likely to go, “we deserve an indulgence,” then go ahead and get it. (Housin can’t mentally do the first step, it’s just beyond how she’s been trained to think, and Fifth Red Petal shares Bloom’s believe in the need to enjoy small pleasures, but is so unused to money and buying that she gets shy about the transaction.) Purely for his own sake, though, probably bread--neither of the others value it as much, and it doesn’t travel well, but a crusty fresh-baked loaf has strong positive memories attached to it.

🍑 Which emoji would they use the most?

oh my god I can’t seem to send it to myself from my phone in any kind of useful way.... but the sprout emoji.

#dnd chars #yelkha #bloom #hallifax mudbottom

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bugaboowritings · 5 years

Text

How Animan Worked Out (With Masc!Mari) Fic

Nino has a fat man-crush on Mari.

Made it gay thanks to @knoxursoxoffpenwriter69.

At this point, I think I want to rewrite episodes with Masc!Mari. It’s a nice task and good exercise to make me more creative with set ending. Plus, it’s fun to put my own twist on things. Also I used ‘american’ terms for the school system since it’s easier to understand, but if you know what is what in french please do tell me.

Masc!Mari is an AU created by @daloochsdoodles.

“Sorry, Alya.” Mari grimaced, swinging his locker closed. “I have to babysit that day. Even if Manon gets picked up early, it takes me a good day to a week to bounce back.” Shivering as he thought about the glitter incident. A nightmare that he still can't forget.

Alya hummed in agreeance. “She’s truly a wild card." Pressing her lips together like she always did when she had a counter-argument. "Buuuuutttt- try having two Manon’s living with you 24/7.” Alya stomped her feet and made her best “baby-doll eyes” impression. “But Mari, pleaseeee! Hang out with your best friend before we become old and grey and regret missing out on the good old days.”

Mari gave her a blank stare. Informing her that she wasn’t winning this battle. Alya signed in defeat. “Okay, are you at least free to get lunch?”

“I can always open my schedule up for food.” He confessed. Making Alya roll her eyes and push him back playfully. Only to stop laughing when he missed his footing and tip back a little too far. Alya’s face suddenly switches from joy to pure horror. Happening all in slow-motion as Mari felt his soul leave his body. Prepared to feel his back land on the cold floor. Panicking, even more, the moment Mari felt someone’s shoulders with against his. Dragging an innocent soul to his clumsy doom.

“MARI! Oh my god!” Alya rushed to her knees picking up the papers that went flying up in the air as a loud smack hit the floor. Watching her best friend went on autopilot. Spitting out apologies like they were hot coal in his mouth. Mari’s face burned up with embarrassment.

“I’m so so so so sorry- I didn’t mean to. Gosh, my luck isn’t the best. I’m so sorry about this, here let me help you-” He stammered, quickly scooping up the loose-leaf paper on the floor.

“It’s fine. Really.” The other person mumbled, shoving everything in their backpack. Keeping his voice low to make less of a scene. “You don’t have to worry much, rea- Mars?”

Mari broke their neck at that. He hasn’t heard anyone call him “Mars” in some years. It was an old nickname that he picked up when he was a planet in a school play. Playing the planet “Mars” and singing a song about its carbon dioxide atmosphere. Cringing when he thought back at it. His performance was so memorable that his whole class started renamed him after his character.

“Uh- Nino?” Mari questioned back before getting a nod from him.

“Wow, Nino. It’s good to see you again!” Mari beamed. Standing up now to his full height. Looking back at Nino before handing off his work. “I haven’t seen you in like- forever.”

Nino admitted the same thing. Not helping himself as he gawked at Mari’s height. Normal reaction after meeting a friend that doubled in size since middle school.

“I’m sorry, again.” Mari shyly smiled, looking around for any more lost papers. Tensely itching the back of his neck.

“No! No-no problem.” Nino jumped. Hiding the red that appeared on his face with his cap. “We’ll all good, really dude.” Bring another sunny grin to Mari’s face.

Coughing to bring their attention to her. “Then that means you forgive us making you almost making you lose your report, Turtles, the Best Pal of The Sea,” Alya judged, raising her well-groomed brows at that title.

"If you're going to bullshit your essay, spice it up."

“Alya.” Mari shushed, receiving her “what” face. Shrugging off her friend's looks before handing it to Nino who said,

“It’s a report for Mr. Malume. He said to write an essay that 'fun or meaningfully'. I wrote it last minute and Noel had 'Finding Nemo' on repeat the whole day- yesterday so I guess that 'inspired' me.”

Alya couldn’t help the chuckle that came up from her throat. Mari snorted.

“Hope it goes well then.” Already turning around before saying, “I’m Alya by the way. Mari’s best friend.” She held out her hand for Nino to shake. “A.k.a. the editor of the Ladyblog and lover of muffins.” Ignoring Mari’s eye roll as she shameless plugged in her blog.

“Sorry to cut our time short, Nino, but I was promised lunch by a friend.” She hinted, motioning Mari to follow her lead.

“You know where the bakery is at right?” Mari asked. Letting Alya go-ahead to their usual spot.

“The best bakery in Paris?" Nino praised, slinking his bag around his shoulders. "Couldn’t forget it.”

“Great. Then you should totally come by.” Mari trailed off. Walking backward before shooting him a wink. “Don’t be a stranger.”

Leaving the DJ alone by his thoughts and shit essay as Mari caught up with Alya, who had a sudden craving for some fries.

----------

Sipping the last drop of her smoothie with her chewed straw, Alya finally asked the question that bubbled in her mind. "So Nino and you have a long history then?"

"We were friends back when we were like eight or twelve or something." Mari closed the white kitchen cabinet. Letting his hand rest on the handle as the other pulled out two bowls for their ice creams.

"God, it's been too long." He mumbled, tugging on his lip, in deep thought about the last time he had a proper conversation with Nino. Not noticing Alya sucking the air out of her cup like she was a fish out of water.

"I haven't spoken to him after I started my tr- actually that's a lie. We spoke at a school assembly! Granted it was a 'hello' and 'good-bye'. . ." Mari thought back to his old memories with Nino. They were the same classes for some years. Up until the beginning of high school is when they quit having lessons together.

"Ah," Alya hushed. "Tea?" She smirked.

"Shush Alya." Throwing a metal spoon he drew from the kitchen drawers. "Don’t make it seem like we ended on bad terms." Not stopping the reporter's stupid grin as she only giggled some more.

-------

The bakery’s bell jingled as Nino pushed opened the front door. The scent of baked goods calmed his nerves. Relieving him since the whole walk there was a hot mess. Nino tried prepping himself mentally to not freak out or mess up his words since he planned to hang out with Mari the whole day. SO he had to try his best to not become a total mess-

"Nino!" Mari greeted, looking up from the counter. Swiftly wiping his hands on his apron then sweeping back his messy hair.

OH NO, HE’S HOT!

I’m a total mess, Nino acknowledged as his palms grew sweaty.

"I didn't expect to see you.” Quickly adding, "-this early, I mean. Most people I know aren't really morning people." Mari explained, not noticing how Nino awkwardly smiled back. Fatigue seemed to trickle off Mari’s face once he saw his friend. Showing off a toothy grin.

Which made Nino crossed between relaxed and hella nervous (which should have to cancel out, but those two emotions just wrestled in the pit of his stomach) as Mari’s eyes stopped the words from coming out of Nino’s throat. Mari could bring anyone to ease with one of his smiles, but there was something about his eyes that made people sweat and burn. Nino's face composes a thin smile, nodding to whatever Mari was rambling on.

"-breakfast then. Right, Nino?"

"What?" Nino slapped himself mentally. Excusing himself and asking Mari to repeat himself. Already praying for an Akuma attack to save him from this moment.

"Do you want anything?" Mari nodded toward the pastries which were fresh from the oven. Still warm from toasting to a golden brown.

"It's my treat."

"I have to clean up before we can go out so you have something as you wait." Already pulling a clean plate by the counter. Motioning to the glass display between them for Nino to take a look.

Nino wanted to say that he didn't want anything, but his brain didn't like the idea that Mari could possibly take offense for denying a free pastry. Or then like him less. Which could make Mari not want to hang out or maybe even be his friend. Nino's adolescent mind could write novels using the outrageous scenarios it made up on the spot. It wasn't until he met Mari's eyes again. Which like a wave, brought him back to ease.

"The chocolate croissants are calling my name." He hummed. Causing Mari to chuckle.

Okay, maybe this isn't so bad, Nino thought. Returning Mari’s bright smile.

----

Mari slurped the last drop of his slushie. "How did you know about the panther? I came here like, not even last week and didn't even see ANY of this!" Throwing his hands up to motioning all the panther posters. Holding up his drink to prove his point. "They even had themed-food! Granted, it's just a different cup but still!!" Mari's enthusiasm gradually rubbed off to Nino, who couldn't help to laugh at Mari's reaction to everything. It was like watching a little kid gush about an amusement park. Making him feel like time hasn't passed between them. As if they were eleven again. Mari surely had that part down since he acted like it.

"Mari!"

Nino and Mari both turned to see two guys their age walking towards them. Turns out it's Max and Kim. Max waves as Kim raised his arm in salutation.

"Yo, Mari! Nino!"

"Hey, Kim, Max; what are you doing here?"

Kim gave a smug grin."We heard the new panther's here. I wanna see who's get the bigger guns!"

Kim shamelessly flexed his arms before getting a comical eye-roll from Max. Nino heard Mari whisper under his breath if he was the only one that didn't know about the panther. Not helping the chuckle that slipped his lips. Earning him a light elbow jag from Mari.

"Do you want to come with us?" Max promptly asked.

Nino stopped the panic from dripping into his words. "We were actually on our way to see it. . ." Nino trailed off. The whole point was to get close to Mari, not with the boys. Nino was already cooking up a plan to get out of this mess.

"Cool!" Kim grinned. "We can just head there together!" Throwing his arms over Nino and Mari, pulling them to the panther enclosure. All without a second thought.

--------

Otis, the panther's care keeper, slid a metal dish covered in raw meat at the foot of a tree. Watching the black feline gracefully leap down from its playground to this meal. Otis rubbed the bridge of his nose in thought before scribbling something down in his notes. Flipping thought them before marking some charts and - then messing up a whole page with his blue pen in shock. Scorning the source of the sound that spooked him and the panther. Not to his surprise, it was a child banging on the glass. However, not any child but a teen with nonsense for brains.

"Whoa! Look at the size of that piece of meat it's eating!"

"Kim, don't hit the glass like that!" Mari barked, bothered by his actions. Kim didn't budge from his spot as he gawked at the black cat. Nino watched Max suddenly type something in his phone before informing them more about the panther.

Dropping another fact, "It's a typical diet for this feline species since it requires the strength to run at speeds in excess of 60 miles per hour." Looking up from his screen to see the panther himself. Moving closer to the cage in awe. "So it needs quite the amount of calories."

Everyone nodding to that as they watched the wild animal rip up its lunch in smaller pieces. All as if it was an episode of Animal Planet in front of their eyes.

Of course, Kim had to ruin the tranquil moment.

"60 miles per hour? Is that all? I could have sworn panthers were much faster than that." Bending his legs in some simple stretches like the ones he did before a swim or a race.

"I bet that I could beat it in a race."

Squishing his face on the glass screen again. Cooing at the panther. "Hey, kitty, kitty. How about a little race with me, huh? Last one's a rotten egg!"

"Kim, calm down."

"Cocky, are we?"

"With a 6 feet-per-second wind behind you and 45 degrees to the north-east... I don't think you'd be a rotten egg. You'd be lunch."

"Not another challenge, please."

The group reasoned with Kim to stop provoking the animal. Which grew more aggravated every minute Kim stood there. Knocking it in his head that they WEREN'T here to do that. Not noticing the growing frown on the zoo keeper's face. Hushing curses as Otis jingled his keys to find the right one to the door.

"Kim, have some sense and leave the animal alone." Mari snapped. Flicking Kim's forehead. "You're making the panther growl and the zookeeper here is about to kick us out if you continue!"

Kim sighed, letting his shoulder slump down. "You guys are no fun." He huffed. Nodding his head towards another exhibit. Already leaving as he got his last remark in.

"Let's leave that poor widdle kitty alone with its babysitter!"

Followed by an ow as Mari kicked him.

-----

"Serious, you are no fun."

"Neither is this. Pass." Nino huffs. Dropping his outrageous dare before Kim could have the chance to change it.

"Rinnnngggg! There's the bell," Max held on to an imaginary microphone before commentating, "Nino has now lost his ability to reject this next truth or dare. If he still has the guts to say no then he gets the ultimate punishment. Care to explain it, Mr. Dupain Cheng?"

Mari held back their laughter. Holding on his own imaginary mic and his earpiece. Mustering up the best newscaster voice he had. "Thanks for that Mr. Kante. If Nino dares to reject this truth then he will have the chance to win a trip to clean Kim's gym locker for the next wee-"

"MARI!"

Confused to hear his name called out again, Mari turned around. Having the boys follow his actions until they came to view a pretty girl with glasses. Waving to Mari, who like a puppy-dog raced to her before excusing himself from his friends.

So long for alone time, Nino mumbled.

Kim, Max, and Nino watched as Mari hugged the girl. Both exchanging some words before the girl started to throw her hands around. They were a bit too far to hear what they were saying but by the looks, she had something important.

-----

"BIG! Not just the run of the mill story but it's BIGGER, Mari!" Alya exclaimed. Barely able to hold her excitement in. "The best part of it is that Nadja asked me directly! SHE WANTS ME on this STORY! She wanted ME to report on it!" Alya gushed, not believing that this isn't a dream, but reality!

"That's amazing!" Mari cheered. Feeling the high Alya was one as she screamed at him on how her dream was on the verge of coming true.

"RIGHT!" She huffed, throwing her hands around. Almost tossing up the bag she had in her hands. "I just knew that I had to tell you in person-Crappppppppppp." Losing her enthusiasm as she noticed the bag and the time on her watch.

"I have to go give my dad his lunch. I left the twins with Nora, so I have to split before things get out of control." Alya and Mari pulled each other in a hug before Alya dashed off to her father's office.

"I'll call you!" Mari yelled.

"Better." She replied. Not having to turn around for Mari to know that she still had her grin.

-----

"Seriously, dude." Nino groaned. "Mari doesn't have a girlfriend."

"Well, who was that chick then?" Kim pushed on. Poking Nino's shoulder before brushing him off. "Mari has been a loner for like -ever! Why is he covered with ladies, now!?"

"If any girl that Mari talks is his girlfriend, then he's married to all of Paris then!"

"That's Alya Cesaire," Max pulled up her Instagram. "She's the editor of the Ladyblog and is the new girl from our school. She recently moved for her father's new job and her mother works at Le Grand Paris. Not to mention her sister is notorious kickboxer here. Getting the best seats at every match she fights in."

Nino and Kim looked at Max with blank stares.

"What?"

"Max, how did you even-"

"She's tagged Mari in a lot of her pictures." He nonchalantly says. Before liking one of Alya's photographs. "Everything else is in her bio."

Before the boys could even say anything else, Mari came back running. Mumbling a 'sorry'. At that moment, Kim jumped the gun before Nino could try and shut him up.

"Dupain-Cheng," Kim smirked, wiggling his brows. "When were you going to tell us that you were off the market?" Slinking his arm around Mari's broad shoulders.

"What market?"

"Kim, just stop." Nino hissed now clearly annoyed. However, that made Kim more pushy the more he was told no.

"You know, the market." Wiggling his eyebrows more furiously. AS if that would help and make his point. Kim just looked like an idiot.

". . .What."

Max stepped in, "Kim thinks that Alya and you are an item." Double tapping on another picture.

Mari couldn't help but awkwardly laugh at that. "Bold of you to assume that I'm taken." Shrugging off Kim's arm. "Alya and I are just close friends."

With that Nino sighed a breath of relief. Mumbling a 'thank god', slumping down to a nearby bench. Quickly losing the color from his face once again. He didn't say that out loud, did he? Looking back to his friends who looked back at him with a perplexed expression. Kim then broke the silence with a loud gasp. Max looked up from his phone, connecting the dots in his head. Mari's face grew a big grin.

Plotting his hand by Nino's head, Mari leaned in. Watching as Nino's blush grew bright and bright. Mari's nose scrunched up, a cute quirk he had for years, something he did when he was examining something thoughtfully. Mari's dark eyes narrowed making Nino sweat bullets.

"Nino, oh my god!" Mari exclaimed. "You have a crush!"

At that point, Nino had two options. Confess to him or play dumb. However, his knowledge of romance from soap operas told him to shout:

Yes, I do Mari. It is you that I care for. I know we been through much and been away from each other for some years. However, that hasn't stopped the passion in my beating heart for you. You are still the Mari I know and care for. Please let's stay together as we developed our bromance. Let me be your rock. Let me be there when you have a rough day. Let me hug you and smell the flour and sugar on your sweatshirt after working a long day in the bakery. Dude, I would do it all for you. Just let me-

Nino decided to play dumb before his mouth spilled out a whole ballad.

"Whattttttttttt." Nino squawked. His voice was now higher than normal. "Whatchu mean?" Pulling his head back like a turtle going in his shell. "I don't have a crush on anyone."

"That's the biggest lie of the history of lies." Kim jumped. Swiftly pushing his way to Nino's face. "Luckily, we have a way to break liars here." He grinned.

"Nino Lahiffe, you own us a truth." Kim huffed. Crowded by three curious guys, Nino was in a position he wouldn't want anyone in. “Or you will be cleaning my gym locker after practice.”

Nino frowned at that. “Why is that even the punishment? Can’t you easily do that?”

“WE’RE ASKING THE QUESTIONS HERE!” Kim barked. Only to regain his stupid grin from before. Making the hair on Nino’s neck raise. He felt his weak knees buckling in place. His arms growing heavy as his stomach was rocked with his boundless anxiety. Mom's spaghetti

"Do you like Alya?"

what.

"What?"

"I mean the signs are all there. He got irritated whenever we were talking about Mari and Alya being a thing." Kim pressing the fingers in his hands as he went on. "He even told us to knock it off when we were thinking of ship names."

"Not to mention, he seemed pretty relieved to know that they were still single," Max noted, pushing up his glasses to the bridge of his nose.

"Come on, guys," Nino reassured. Trying to play it cool. "You are just imagining things." Picking at his ear. Avoiding eye contact.

They were off by a mile, but they were getting too close for his liking.

"He's totally is crushing on her." Kim smiled all smugged. "The denial just proves it."

----------

Yeah, Lady Beetle knew it wasn't right, but he just couldn't help himself. He loved playing matchmaker and he felt like Andre, the Ice Cream Man, the moment he "protected" Nino and Alya from the Akuma attack by locking them together in the empty gorilla cage.

Ignoring Chat's stare as he evilly giggled to himself.

#ml #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybuff #lady beetle #ladybeetle #masc!mari #masc!marinette #masc!mari au #my writing #my writings #ml au #au #miraculous the tales of ladybug and chat noir #Nino lahiffe #max kante #le chien kim #marinette dupain cheng #mari dupain cheng #rewrite

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