#A treasured wife that is forever lost - never to be seen again as she has gone off to war and will never be returning ... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aaronbleyaert · 4 years

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Tomorrow is a Hundred Years Away

And even as I’m pouring the last drops of our second pot of coffee in your cup I’m still trying to tell myself that I’m not going to make another pot, but even my own mind can’t keep a straight face at the thought. I decide to pretend a third pot was the plan all along and pour the water in for another go before bringing your coffee back and setting it down with a little flourish.

You sit as you do, as we do, every morning, at our big ugly kitchen table: two 30 somethings who are more than happy to slowly sink into the staid portrait of a classic old married couple. We sit side by side, our legs touching, comfortable in the warm silence our two bodies create. The very thing that my teenage self feared most has come to pass: I'm living the life of a happily married woman, wife to a man I adore. The horror of comfort! The terror of wedded bliss! All of those years spent scared of being tied down, of being locked in a marital prison; all for naught. My life, this life, here with you - the whole thing almost feels like too much to wish for.

I watch as you gaze out the window, trying to burn it into my memory. “Remember this, Stephanie.” I think. “Remember, remember, remember.” I try to lock this moment, this one perfect moment, right now, here, of you and I just like this, away down deep where it can’t be touched. Where it can live, somewhere inside of me, forever.

Of everything I’ll lose in the next few months, moments like these are what I’ll miss the most.

I remember when you and I sat here - looking out this window, just like we are now - for the first time. That first early morning, having our first coffee together in this house, looking out at the tendrils of early morning mist still stubbornly clinging to the tops of the pines; I remember how the trees seem to stretch out forever like a lush green carpet across the valley before disappearing off into the low hanging clouds in the distant sky. It felt like all the good in our lives was laid out right there in front of us, just waiting for us to step forward into the future and live it.

“Would you look at that” you said on that morning, a little kid giddy with excitement. “The trees, the clouds, the sky, the world, the planets, the stars; all of it right out there, right outside our humble kitchen window. The whole sum total of existence, all trapped behind a single pane of glass.”

We sat there in quiet reverence, knees touching, marveling at the vast beauty of the world beyond our window - breathless at the thought that nothing less than the all of existence was sole spectator to you and I, and that moment: Our first morning spent together. I remember gently knocking wood; a quiet wish that this moment would last forever - or that somehow, in some future life, I could live this moment again, Over and over and over, for eternity.

“What a sight.” I said.

And then you leaned over and kissed me.

Looking back at my life, at our life, that moment is maybe the happiest I've ever been. I wanted to trap it like a firefly in amber and live inside it for a hundred million years. But, of course, the Great Unspoken Tragedy of Time is that it keeps gently nudging us forward, ushering us past what truly matters while muddying the clear waters of purpose with petty wishes and self-important worries. Eyes up! Face forward! Onward! Onward! A brighter future lies just around the corner, it says! A better life! All the while, the happier tomorrow is quietly slipping by the beautiful present into the yearned for yesterday. The next moment is always only a moment away - whether or not you want it to be. We cannot make a home in the present, so we must make that home in our memories. And to lose that home is to lose everything.

Not wanting time to push me forward into the next few minutes and the confession I have to make, I look down and watch my fingers trace the raised patterns of thick paint on the table. God. This table. If there is anything in all of creation that is completely impervious to time - and not to mention ugly - it is our kitchen table.

This thing must weigh a million pounds. A heavy hideous stout old beast slathered with cheap white paint, it’s almost pretty. Like one of those ugly dogs that are cute, it’s where hideous and adorable meet back on the other side. It’s my secret hope that the table is actually made from some kind of beautiful wood; Walnut, or Rosewood. Something valuable. Or Teak: The wood of royals. Wouldn’t that be a trip? Something majestic under all this crap paint? As the doctor visits have mounted and my life has started to come apart these past few weeks, it’s been all I can do to not take a steak knife and scratch off a little of the paint to take a peek underneath to see if my suspicions are true. I can just see the Antique Roadshow now:

“Stephanie: Good news! Your boring old kitchen table is actually a teak treasure from the jungles of India, brought by the explorer Francisco de Almeida in the year 1505! How did you come about it?”

“Well, Mark, it’s a funny story; it was actually our kitchen table for years and years, just sitting there, quietly, as we had our coffee every morning. Anyway, one day - ”

“Wow. How funny.”

“Right? Anyway, one day I had been going through a lot of medical trauma and so to distract myself thought just popped into my head: What if there was something special about our ugly table?”

“Something special, Stephanie?”

“Yes! Something special - you see, it used to be covered in this awful white paint.”

“Thick, cheap, white paint?”

“Yes, Mark. Exactly.” (audience laughs)

“Oh no!”

“Oh yes! And I just started thinking: This table, this ugly, heavy, but otherwise rather unassuming white table - what if there was something more to it? Something special, underneath? Something more beautiful than what we could see on the outsi - “

Hey, what are you thinking about?

I blink quickly, and look up, returning from the Roadshow set to your kitchen. Our kitchen.

Nothing, I say. Why?

You just looked like you were thinking of something funny.

I look back down at the table, at the white paint. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

I open my mouth to tell you my theory about the table and its secrets, about the Antique Roadshow bit with the 1505 Francisco story in this Mark voice I made up - but instead what comes out of my mouth is not the theory about our (your) table and its exotic secret, but instead it’s the thing I need to tell you. The thing I’ve been needing to tell you for weeks. The Truth.

I’m sick.

I’m really really sick. Like, the kind of sick where people don’t get better sick. I hear myself using some of the same words the doctors used when they told me: Rare, Degenerative, and eventually, the only word that matters in these sorts of cases: Terminal.

You look at me in disbelief, your wide, beautiful eyes not wanting to accept what I’m saying - much the same way, I imagine, as I looked at the doctor when she told me the news. Only she also used other, bigger, more doctory words like “transmissible spongiform encephalopathy”. I don’t tell you these words; it feels like to say them aloud would be too much like dark magic; too much like summoning an evil I don’t want. Although, at this point, what’s one more curse on top what I’ve already got?

You look down at your hands. You look at them for a long time. I wonder what you’re thinking. Then you quietly ask how much time we have left. I notice you say we, not me. You’re sweet.

I press my bare feet into the cold kitchen floor, trying not to cry and trying to figure out how best to tell you the truth without actually having to say it out loud. The silence settles around us like a dark cloud; a flock of big black birds, all watching with their beady eyes, waiting for an answer. Minutes pass. The clock ticks quietly in the hall.

It’s when I tell you how long that you finally start crying. We lean into each other, our bodies comforting each other in their own way. Our coffees sit on the big ugly table, untouched, steam rising lazily into the cool morning air.

Definitely shouldn’t have made that third pot.

***

When I was a kid, I lived next to this kid named Phillip. It was never Phil, just Phillip. One Summer, Phillip and I for some reason became obsessed with digging this hole. I don’t honestly remember how it started; maybe one of us had seen something on time capsules, or maybe we wanted to try to find out if the water table really existed. Whatever. Kids are stupid.

What I do remember is that, one day after school, Phillip and I for some reason started digging this hole on the side of his house. And every day after that, after school, we would run home, go back to the side of his house, and work on The Hole. Deeper and deeper. Wider. Steeper. Down down down. You’d think that we’d get sick of it - after all, you’re just digging a deep dumb hole, there’s nothing down there but more dirt you dummies - but that wasn’t the way we saw it. To us, it wasn’t just a hole; every spade of earth we turned over was a chance for a new forbidden discovery, a new illicit thrill. Arrowheads! Haunted pottery! Old machine parts! Every day we ran to The Hole, shovels in hand, with the same thought: What new thing would we discover today? What new piece of magic lay secretly buried, all these years, just out of sight, waiting to be discovered and pulled up into the light to be born into a spectacular new life? What beauty lay hidden just under our feet, lost down there in the cold black earth?

Our all-consuming daily digging obsession went on and on past the end of the school year and well across that whole summer; The Hole got so big and deep that we started putting a tarp over it to keep the rain out so it wouldn’t become a flooded mess. In the end though, it met its fate like all childhood adventures: Boring reality butted in. One day, Phillip’s dad walked around the side of the house, found the hole, and made us fill it in. When we protested, he just shook his head: “You spent your whole summer on a hole. Youth is wasted on the young.”

***

My brain is so weird; sometimes I think it knows things that I don’t. For instance, I’ve recently started catching myself thinking of “our” things as “your” things:

Your car.

Your house.

Your bed.

Your ugly kitchen table.

Your life.

Your life after me, of course I mean. What will that be like, I wonder? My life always felt so rushed: I dashed to work, I hurried home, I raced to the store, I ran to the bus, I worried about missing the train, the dinner, the movie. Why? Why did I do that? Why was I worried? My whole life I’ve had plenty of Life left to live, but I spent it all driving a million miles an hour to a million different places - only to get there and be worried about what I was doing next. Onward! Onward! Missing out always felt like a fate worse than death. How wrong I was.

Now that my life is ending, and there’s an actual clock counting down, I couldn’t care less. I don’t rush anywhere. I don’t race to any event. I don’t worry about making the movie or missing the bus. There will be other movies, other buses. Now that my future has fled, what’s most important is what’s around me, right now. It’s only at the end of my life that I’m realizing that life really takes place in between the times we think will matter; the moments I didn’t pay attention to were the ones that mattered most. Turns out the real beauty in life was there just underneath the surface after all.

They say those who fail to learn from their mistakes are doomed to repeat them - but that’s wrong. No one gets to repeat anything. We should be so lucky to given such a chance; mistakes or not.

***

My first thought is that I am freezing cold. Why am I so cold? And why is everything in my bedroom orange? I look around, and it takes me a second to realize that I’m not in my bedroom. I’m outside. What am I doing outside at night? The orange glow from the streetlight throws wild, unfamiliar shadows on the trees by the side of the road. What is this? I hear you screaming my name from somewhere far away. As if in response, the icy winter wind gusts out from between the black trunks of the barren pines, pushing me in your direction. I turn, my legs stiff, and begin walking towards where I think you are, but it’s cold and -

I wake suddenly in our (your) bed. It’s morning. I look around, slowly. The terror of the bad dream slowly drains out of my chest in the white glow of the morning. I look over; you’re still asleep. I desperately have to pee - a side effect of the medication - so I slowly pull the covers back and roll to the side to get out of bed without waking you. As I put my feet on the floor, I notice they are bloody and scratched; black with dirt. Not a dream after all.

***

One night, I call my mother for our weekly catch up - but her phone keeps ringing and ringing. This never, ever happens. She always picks up. Concerned, I find you in the living room half watching the TV while doing your crossword.

I’m worried about my mom. I say. I think she’s in trouble. Maybe hurt.

You look up, sharply. Hurt? What do you mean?

I just tried to call her. It just keeps ringing and ringing. Should we call someone to check on her?

Your face changes. I can tell you don’t want to do this, that it hurts you to do this, but it’s something you feel that you need to do. You pause, then carefully put your crossword aside.

I think your mom is okay. Come here for a second.

You stand, and I follow you into the kitchen. There is a piece of paper taped to the wall next to the phone that I’ve never seen before. It is written in all caps with a big black marker and says:

CALLING YOUR MOM?

LOOK AT THE CLOCK.

IS IT AFTER 8PM? ------> YOU HAVE ALREADY CALLED HER TONIGHT.

IF YOU HAVE ALREADY CALLED, SHE WILL NOT ANSWER.

DON’T WORRY, SHE IS FINE.

You look at me, and at the clock. My eyes follow yours. The clock reads 8:34. I slowly nod. As I put the phone back on its cradle, I read the note again. It’s in my handwriting.

***

Even as I’m pouring the last drops of our second pot of coffee in your cup I’m still trying to tell myself that I’m not going to make another pot, but even my own mind can’t keep a straight face at the thought. I decide to pretend a third pot was the plan all along and pour the water in for another go before bringing your coffee back to the table and setting it down with a little flourish.

You sit as you do, as we do, every morning, at our kitchen table. It’s a heavy old thing slathered with cheap white paint. It must weigh a million pounds. I secretly suspect (read: hope) it’s actually something beautiful underneath; walnut, maybe. Or teak. The wood of royals! Something exotic - wouldn’t that be a trip? These past weeks it’s been all I can do to not give in to the thought and scratch a little bit off with the butter knife to take a peek. What if it’s something valuable? Like really majestic? Hidden under all that hideous thick paint uncaringly slopped on. The more I think about it, the more positive I am: Someone, at some point in history, decided to cover this regal, majestic table in terrible thick white paint. But did that change what the table was, underneath? It changed the way we (I) looked at our (your) table, but didn’t change what the table was, inside. What an epic crime it would be if the table believed that it was just this white coated monstrosity. That it forgot what it truly was, underneath the thick paint. Does it still count as something beautiful? Even if I’m the only one who knows it?

Not wanting time to push me forward into the next few minutes and the confession I have to make, I look down and watch my fingers trace the raised patterns of thick paint on the table. My life, this life, here with you - the whole thing almost feels like too much to wish for.

I watch as you gaze out the window, trying to burn it into my memory. “Remember this, Stephanie.” I think. “Remember, remember, remember.”

***

It can be hard to see yourself as you really are. To try and see the truth of someone else? Nearly impossible.

So years ago, I came up with a neat little trick: whenever I would a take photo, I did something sneaky: I would count to three, and then pretend to take the photo. Everyone would smile. Then, believing it was done, they would relax - and that’s when I would really take the photo, capturing everyone in that one unguarded moment. We are really only our true selves when we believe no one is watching. Those moments that are in-between; those are only real moments that matter.

***

I am outside, in the darkness. No orange light, now. On all sides, I am surrounded by branches that claw at me with their long, sharp fingers. No matter which way I turn, they are there, raking their nails across my cold, tender skin. When I was younger I used to live in a hole with a kid named Phillip - not Phil, but Phillip - and every Christmas morning, Phillip would hide under his bed, hysterical, refusing to come downstairs and open his presents. He thought that Santa Claus was a giant bearded fat man in a red suit with long, sharp claws who would crawl down the chimney into the house while you were sleeping. We would sit in our hole, in the dark, and Phillip would tell me in a high whisper about Santa: That he could see deep into your soul with his ancient watery yellow eyes and knew in your heart how you felt - if you had acted bad. If you had darkness in you. It petrified Phillip. Silly Phillip, I think, as I stagger through the cold forest in the dark, the branches scratching my arms and face. The bearded man only wanted to bring you his gifts. The bearded man. With the claws. He would crawl down the chimney while we were sleeping, he would slither into our heads with his long claws and wrap himself around our hearts, knowing how we truly felt. Click click click his claws tapping against the old wooden floors in our house in the night, scratching and scurrying over to the plate of treats we had left out for him; an offering to the long clawed greasy red shadow that came every year in the night. Traveling on the night air, high up in the black sky, soaring on the sharp cold winds that roar right at the edge of space across the slumbering world, the only witness to his flight the endless flickering points of pale flame, flickering white stars long dead, like the countless white grubs in the steaming fresh earth of endless turned spades, that one hot sticky summer we spent digging our hole. Phillip died not long after we filled in our hole; died that winter, his blood leaking out into the bright white snow. His dad put him in a different hole, down in that cold dark earth where everything is alive and nothing lives. Phillip, not Phil.

A sudden winter wind knifes through the dark woods, scattering a small flurry of snow and bringing a gasp to my lips. There is rot in these woods, I think, suddenly afraid. It feels like something is watching as I stumble around; something ancient and hircine, watching with watery yellow eyes, crouched somewhere I can’t see. A low sob escapes my chest. I don’t want this. Please. Long brittle fingers eagerly scrape against each other, somewhere high above against the black night sky. It’s cold. So cold. Off in the distance, a faint voice screams for Stephanie. Who is Stephanie?

***

It’s morning.

I am sitting in your kitchen, at your table, as you set a cup of coffee down in front of me with a little flourish. It’s cute. Our first date, and already the consummate host! You will make some woman very happy one day, I think. Knock wood that it would be me. It would be nice to sit here with you, morning after morning, day after day, and have this sort of life together. My younger self would recoil at the thought - me? A happily married woman? Content with starting my every day off like this with you - I can just picture my younger self screaming bloody murder. I laugh at the thought. Us, every morning, like this, at this table? A dream. Almost too much to wish for.

Although, this table… It is hideous. Who would paint such a beautiful table with this cheap white paint? A shame. A crime. It has the look of such a pretty, ornate table; you can nearly see the beauty, just underneath the surface. But in your home, this ugly table stands alone - the rest of your house has the look of a woman’s touch. Tastefully decorated, but lovingly lived in. I wonder who you used to live here with. How it ended. Did she break your heart?

My eyes wander back to the table. I wonder what really is underneath? I can’t stop thinking about it.

When I was young, my neighbor and I spent the summer digging a hole. To everyone else, it was two weird kids digging a weird hole. But we did it because we had a crush on each other and didn’t know how to say it. So, instead, we spent every day together, digging - it was as good a reason as any to be in one another’s company and not have to awkwardly talk about it. When the hole got deep enough, we would sit in our hole, our special place under the tarp, and make up stories about the things we were going to find; buried treasure, magical pottery; old robot parts. One day, when I was in the middle of a story about a bank robbery and how the gang had no choice but to bury their loot and split up before they were captured, he leaned over and kissed me. It was my first kiss; a small moment in the middle of an unbearably hot, sticky Midwestern Summer under a tarp in a big wet hole next to a house - but I wouldn’t have traded it for anything. I kissed him back.

There are few things more true in this world than the beauty of a small moment.

When you’re not looking, I take your butter knife and scrape some of the paint at the edge of the table. The wood underneath is dark. Excited, I try to press into it with my thumbnail. It’s hard! Teak, I’ll bet! I love teak. How beautiful! I smile to myself. A teak table painted birdshit white. Who knew? The wood of the royals, right here under all this cheap paint. A thing of beauty, just waiting its turn to be rediscovered and once again have its moment in the sun.

I look over to see you watching me, smiling with your big wide eyes. Did you see me scratch your table? I smile back. What a beautiful smile you have - and I tell you so. It’s flirting, shameless; I know. But what do I have to lose? A handsome man like you, single? Inviting me here, into your home? Making me a morning coffee, of all things? Almost too much to wish for.

You ask if I’m hungry; I’m not, but I want to stay with you here in your house for as long as I can, so I say yes. An obvious trick. You laugh and pull out a pan to make some food. It’s quite the production; you drizzle oil into the pan like a ballet dancer; you crack the eggs like a ninja; you drop the salt and it spills all over the floor. I love it. I love it all. I am laughing hysterically, in spite of myself.

I look out the window: The trees, the world, the sky, the stars; all trapped behind one single pane of glass. All of it just a spectator to you and me and this moment - this one, lovely moment. How can I be so lucky, I think, to live a life that would have just a single moment like this. How lucky to be alive at all. So many years I lived rushing from place to place, right by moments like this, instead of living in moments like this. Youth is wasted on the young.

You look up from the sizzling pan. Ugh, that smile again. Lord. I can’t. My heart beats faster. Do I have a really have a shot with this man? This wonderful man, as I sit at his ugly royal teak table in his beautiful house? Expertly assembling my breakfast on a plate, you glide over with a little dance, and set the plate down. Suddenly, I’m starving. Pulling your chair close, you sit next to me, our bodies almost touching. It is sublime.

You run your finger over the edge of the table, over the small scratch I’ve made in the paint. I didn’t notice before, but I see now that it’s next to countless other small scratches made by someone else. Sadness flickers across your face, and you look up. Our eyes meet.

It's teak! I can't help but exclaim. The wood of royals!

You break into a laugh.

What a perfect moment, I think. Time pushes us forward - but please, just this once, let it wait. Let me live right here for just a moment more: in our house, at our table. Here, with you. Silence settles around us like a warm blanket. The clock ticks quietly in the hall.

I look out the window. The trees, the world, the sky, the stars; all is still.

What a sight, I say.

And then you lean in for a kiss.

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omega-queen-collects-lipstick · 4 years

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I'm a bit of a Greek mythology nerd can I get a god au? Maybe mc is a human they fall in love with or a nymph or something? Sorry I just reread my old mythology books and it came to my mind... And i wanna see your boys in the situation :D

Ah cute little river nymph Mc. She was origionally a little mountain brook and then temperatures rose and she's a large river that ends in the cutest little lake.

She happily heals those who come to her for aid. She blesses items and retrieves lost treasures.

Only problem?

She can't leave to far from her waters. She was the first born nymph in the river so her lifeline is directly tied to the waters. Granted she could set up a small pond maybe using a piece of gem like from the cave in which her life was breathed into her and dropping it in a small body of water.

She has the prettiest water wings from her back she uses to drift around under water. An odd water lotus protrudes from her skull and opens shuts and glows different colors based on her mood.

Now the boys. Ohohoho. No they aren't gods. No their demigods. Direct and favored children of the gods.

Erik surprisingly is the son of Zeus. He is highly favored but very quiet from the abuse of Zeus's wife hera.

She constantly sends him on traumatizing journeys and while he gets glory with every win he also retains a lot of mental damage.

And no one seems to notice or care.

Except for Mc.

She noticed the second he came up to her questing for her rivers sacred pearl. (Lodged in the heart of the lotus on her head.) She said one thing to him and that was it for him.

"dearest traveler, your heart and mind are scarred let me heal it in hopes you won't end the precious life you hold."

He couldn't slay Mc for the pearl when you look at him with such kindness and offer to give healing to him, her would be slayer.

He quite thoughtlessly walked into her waters. She could have drowned him as many nymph's do for fun but she refrained and instead brought his skull into her chest as she slowly waded till they were in the middle of the river. Her eyes never leave his and that's probably why he didn't panic when she sank them both into the water.

Next thing he knows he wakes to his head in MCs lap and his body- no- his very soul feeling much lighter than it ever has.

He gladly took his punishment for not killing the nymph maiden.

Quicksilver is the child of hades. Scorned and raised to be selfish and cruel because no one will love him once they know his birth origins. So why even attempt to be anything other than they'll all assume he is.

Except for mc it seems.

He came to her seeking aid for a cracked skull. Being the son of the god of riches he threw a sack of coins at her feet.

"what use have I of such trivial things when your company and joy is far sweeter."

Predictably he assumed mc was just trying to get more out of him and got angry. He didn't understand her genuineness. Nobody is so pure especially not a nymph. Rumors about this one be damned.

So he left the bag there yelled at her a bit and stomped off. However next thing he knows he wakes up drooling into her boobs completely healed and relaxed.

Of Course he doesn't exactly respond appropriately. He groaned and pressed his face further into her boobs. Give him a break it's the first time anyone has let him near such a vulnerable place. He'd give up all the gold under the earth just to lay there forever and just motorboat these fucking pillows of the gods.

Seeing as she would refuse to take coin and insisted his company is payment enough he comes by often. Mostly in the hopes of napping on her lap or tits. The boy is touch starved and MCs constant willingness to indulge his needs, mostly innocent, for free, he grows a serious attachment.

Sweets is the son of aphrodite. He's beautiful, not as beautiful as his mother of course, but he is indeed unnaturally gorgeous. So much so that he never finds himself without attention.

However this also means none of the attention is genuine. Just an effect of being a son of aphrodite. This also means people feel entitled to his love and he gets assaulted and raped on many occasions.

He tried to drown himself in MCs waters. She of course wouldn't allow it and instead offered him a listening ear completely unaffected by the gift of aphrodite.

"poor dear, your body sullied by unwanted love. Let me lend an ear for I am very lonely."

He told his story and then fell asleep on the rock that stays warm after the sun is gone. When he next wakes he feels well rested. But she's not there. He goes into town for food expecting to be swarmed as usual but instead he finds himself being glanced at but ultimately left alone.

She had removed his burdens and he is forever grateful. He comes by often to talk and keep her company as well as to keep his water angel safe.

Hotaru is the son of hermes. God of travelers and master of none. His whole life has been traveling. Searching. For what he doesn't know.

He's done it for years until his father finally points in one specific direction.

To her.

Mc who has to never walked farther than her river would allow. Who has met more people in her grand lifetime than he has in all his days of travel.

Offered him a home in her woods.

It's unheard of and at first he refuses but stays long enough to rest. After about a year he comes back because again his father pointed in that direction.

There she was sitting there on a rock. Waiting. Waiting for him. It doesn't even look like she's moved since he left. When she saw him she said "welcome home."

So foreign to him but it made his travel hardy legs weak just to hear. But again he refused her offer, staying a little longer this time.

It happens again and again. And he stays longer and longer. Each time all Mc says is "welcome home." Until he forgets his stubbornness for those kind sweet eyes and says. "It's good to be home."

Of course he still travels but now he shares a nearby cottage with sweets, quicksilver, erik, and eros.

Eros is the son of dionysus. The god of wine, parties, and insanity. This boy has a few screws loose. He frolics with his satyr friends and causes mortal to go out of their mind if he doesn't like them. As a man who parties constantly and chases nymphs it's not unheard of that he would crave something different.

On this note somehow he finds himself on the banks of MCs river. And he's heard the rumors so he approaches the water directly, weary of parties and booze, feeling as though his whole life has been nothing more than a crazy blip in the lines of time.

To see Mc rise out of the water like a literal goddess and smile at him in such an innocent humble way (something he's never truly seen on a nymph before) he had hope.

She beckons him over to her and cups his face. Her eyes look so sad as she gazes upon him.

"you seek a purpose. My dear I cannot give you purpose. But I can help you find it. If only you would smile."

Nonsense. MC can do anything. He's seen the results of her miracles. The stories. She's an absolute goddess. She just needs to see it. Then she can help him.

He refused to listen and instead became obsessed with trying to get her to see as he does. It became borderline occultic the way he was acting.

"Eros I can't see what you do for I have not your eyes. I can't give you a purpose. Please, stop hurting yourself!"

"don't hurt that poor sow! It has done naught to you! You don't even entend to eat it!"

"Eros this isn't healthy, you need to sleep. I shan't approve of you worshipping me. I'm no goddess."

Mc does her best but it seems he has a different idea of what a purpose is and goes mad with his obsession with her and trying to get her to see that she can do all the things he thinks she can.

At least he smiles when he goes about his self proclaimed mission. That's all she ever wanted. To see people smile.

The others sort of follow the same viewpoint as eros just not as coocoo. More like a small time cult family gently and lightly worshipping Mc and her genuinity.

They keep her company. They love her. They secretly pray to her or their parent for blessings. Eros on the other hand is very open and crazy with his worship. Just not dangerous to Mc. Which is why the others haven't done a thing about it.

#alphatale #bittytale #alpha #beta #firepapa #omega #undertale #alphamamalioness #a bitty bit of sin and a whole lot of loving #greek AU #nymph MC #demigods

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lisinfleur · 4 years

Text

In your eyes

The request:

Author’s Notes | It took me so long, but I’m in love with this piece! It came out SO SWEET! I hope you like it as much as I did!

Universe | Vikings

Pairing | Harald x Reader

Info | Viking Age AU, requested by @honestsycrets

Words | 1806

⁑ Warnings: Mentions of heathenry and magic.

source: x

Galdrastafir.

You saw his fingers drawing it slowly, sliding the blood of some sacrificed animal that lost its life for his deeper and dearest dreams he was corrupting one rune at a time.

How deep did your king had descended into the dark to use such a low strike for what should be a noble conquer?

How painful was the emptiness into his heart to force him into such a devious path towards the fulfillment of his desires?

You knew him.

Harald wasn't like that.

But he wasn't himself anymore. He was lost. Maybe taken by the despair of his last queen's death - enough to ignore her obvious betrayal. Maybe lost by the failed conquest of the crown of Norway - that was now his, but still under Björn's influence once the son of Ragnar was still respected as a god, even thou he wasn't the king of kings after all.

You could count the numerous reasons for your eyes to be watching as your king was drawing the runes of that despicable spell on his palm, intending probably to bewitch the Dane princess his castle was about to receive along with her father and the other two kings of the trinity - one of them, the second son of Ragnar Lothbrok, Ubbe, who was converted into a king by the fight and victory against the one he was replacing now. Ragnar's blood was always around, spreading the insecurity that was the probable reason for your king to go this low.

You came closer. You could do it. You were the only one who could after years serving his castle.

You were his family servant since his father was still alive and you were nothing but a child, serving his table, cleaning his windows, preparing his room so he could sleep. You would do anything you were ordered to do for him and you wouldn't ask a single coin for your services as long as you were serving his needs, for since you placed your eyes over him for the first time, you fell in love with Harald and your heart never accepted another.

You passed the time to get yourself a husband dreaming about marrying him when he was nothing but a small man. Then he became a king, and your heart was broken when his promises were made to Elisif and not to you, but who were you after all? Sewing his clothes, cleaning his floor, making his food... A servant. Almost a slave, but a paid one. Nothing but a part of the furniture in his house, right?

Wrong.

You became a friend after Elisif's treason, serving his mead at his tent until he was drunk enough to speak his heart to you; listening to his sober words asking you to hold his secrets at the next morning.

You never exposed him.

He came to tell you more.

And you learned about his desire to become what he was now: the king of all Norway. You heard about his dreams of making Vestfold the capital of all Norway and all his hopes to discover new lands, bring treasures, make the people of that town rich and prosper. But his major and dearest dream was the one in your heart as well...

"A beautiful wife to receive me... Children to raise..."

He wanted to build his legacy as much as he wanted that crown and you saw his high hopes in his eyes when that bitch he brought from Kattegat was discovered pregnant.

You wanted to tell him it wasn't the truth. You wanted to tell him you saw her going to the docks, entering that fisherman's boat. But you had no courage to break his heart and you had no proof she was doing anything with that man, so you prayed the gods would bring the truth up or push away from your king all sort of serpent that could bite his hand.

The bitch was killed in battle. And you thought it was a sign from the gods she was the serpent you thought she was. But since then, your king wasn't the same anymore.

You served his table in York - he took you with him when he tried to take the kingdom from Ivar the Boneless and rule over the lands he didn't conquer. You were the one taking care of his wounds after that terrible loss Ubbe has caused him against the Christians. You saw his eyes glowing towards Gunnhild, his anger when Björn passed in front of him and gained her heart.

Your king was always rejected. Except by your forgotten heart.

He never knew about your love; you couldn't blame him. Or maybe you could blame his blindness for it was stamped on your face since the first day and he never saw.

But again... He was a king. The king of all Norway now.

Who were you to think you could be a queen by his side?

You never wanted that crown. You wouldn't mind having another to sit in his throne...

But you wanted his heart. You wanted him.

You wanted Harald's love and you couldn't hold yourself from speaking against that madness he was tracing upon his palm.

"Galdrastafir?" you spoke, causing him to miss a trace, looking at you with anger in his eyes.

"What?" he asked.

And you could feel the smell of mead... He wasn't sober.

It wasn't his self again.

"Galdrastafir! A spell, magic! Yes... I'm doing this. I reached the bottom. I'm tired of waiting..." he insisted. "I'm cursed, Y/N! I'm a cursed man, fated to be forever alone by the curse of the gods upon me! I begged. I promised them. I fulfilled my promise!" he said, messing with the now short braid you remembered crying a whole night when he allowed Astrid to cut for him. "But they cursed me... And I'm tired..."

What right did you have?

Who do you think you were?

A servant. A nobody.

A woman in love. For your whole life.

"Or maybe you're blind!"

Your heart spoke before your mouth and your lips followed it before listening to your brain's screams to keep yourself silent. And they kept speaking, even thou your thoughts were yelling you would end up arrested. Or even dead for that audacity.

"Maybe you just can't see the love you search for so long is around you, near you, walking towards you without your knowledge. Maybe this love was always here, waiting for a glare, a word, a chance! And you never saw it! Because it was so small... Too small for a king!"

Your brain finally took the reins once again and you covered your mouth, shutting it silent. Your eyes trembled on his: he was looking straight into them and you couldn't handle his heavy glare.

But when his face twisted in surprise and you could see the math being done in his thoughts, you couldn't handle.

"Excuse me," you begged before running away from his presence without waiting for his approval or his calculation to find its obvious end.

You were in love with him.

You were always in love with him.

You crossed seas to serve his table. You cried his losses and prayed for his return. You were always there to receive him even thou he wasn't coming back for you.

You...

The face he could remember always smiling at his most stupid asks; always solicitous to his smallest needs; always by his side, to listen, to serve, to hold his tears, his drunk self you so many times carried in your shoulders back to his room where he would wake up clean, dressed and sided by a cup of fresh water and herbs he could chew for his headache.

And it wasn't because he saved your life. Harald could remember you were solicitous to his needs since before he saved you from that bunch of raiders that tried to hurt you on the road. He could remember, if he thought enough, that you were there because of him! You went to the next town that day, just to find him some treated leather for the sheath of his new sword you made for him and that was needing to be fixed...

Hours of walking, risking yourself, just to get him a new sheath.

Harald's eyes landed on the unfinished Galdrastafir in his hand. Why was he doing such a thing?

Did he really need a princess so badly?

When did he become so blind?

Slowly, he washed his hand from the unfinished symbols in his palm, cleaning the blood on one of the clean towels you would always bring to his room every morning.

His eyes looking around... You were everywhere to be seen!

His fresh fruits always replaced by your hands; the fresh water in his amphoras; at the clean sheets of his bed or the sweet herbal bags that would spread that delicious and comfortable scent that would always make him feel home. Your dress was always smelling like those herbs. You always smelled like home for him.

How come that he could never see?

How a man so devoted to the gods was unable to see them screaming right on his face how wrong he was?

He wasn't cursed. Harald was never cursed.

King Harald was a blessed and dumb man. Dumb like the donkeys in his stable, blind like the old goat in his barn.

"I would let her cut my hair when I could find her."

His laugh echoed through his room as he was looking at the mirror, seeing his stupidity for the first time in years: you...

You were always the only servant he trusted to help him to trim his hair. To keep it strong and beautiful. You always trimmed his beard, helped him with the braid he allowed Astrid to cut.

But you had trimmed first.

Harald laughed again.

Even his promise was used by the gods to show him the obvious thing in front of his eyes now. And he was too blind to see.

And he was too dumb to understand.

His fingers got the little metallic box he had prepared for that princess. A beautiful box, sculpted by his smith with lots of blessing runes around a velvet interior that was holding a beautiful pair of alliances he settled to propose an alliance and marriage to her.

Harald's heart knew what he had to do now. And instead of the heavy weight that Galdrastafir was bringing to his chest, to look at those alliances and think what he was thinking brought him peace...

You were his peace.

You were always the one he would find when he wanted to soothe the pain in his heart.

It was time to soothe the loneliness into it.

Once and for all.

Do you like my work? Support me!

Tagged ones:

|| @ivarswickedqueen || @directionlessbuthappy || @akamaiden || @bang-kim-bap || @cris101071 || @elysias-temple || @alicedopey || @captstefanbrandt || @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla || @lol-haha-joke || @readsalot73 || @rekdreams247 || @slutforasoldier || @naaladareia || @laketaj24 || @therealcalicali || @igetcarriedawaywithyou || @grungyblonde || @arses21434 || @honestsycrets || @rabeccablake || @2thequietone4 || @blackspiritshake || @vikingsbifrost || @x-valhalla || @lyanna-the-giantsbane || @isthat-tyra98 || @hissouthernprincess || @xinyourdreamsx || @medievalfangirl || @thiahilmarsdottir || @queenbeeta || @winchesterwife27 || @gold-dragon-slayer || @mzliterarydreamer || @alwaysbenhardysgirl || @marvelouuse || @tgrrose || @lif3snotouttogetyou || @lordsexmachine || @deathbyarabbit || @ietss || @alexisshoto

Want to be tagged? Ask me!

#history vikings #imagine vikings #harald #harald finehair #harald x reader #harald imagine #king harald #sister wives #shot

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return-of-a-space-cowboy · 5 years

Note

I need more yandere donut boi. Can I request for delusional yandere prompt 1# for Giorno Giovanna?

Of course we do!

Flower

(Yandere Giorno Giovanna X Female Reader)

"(Y/n) are you decent?" Your step brother asked from beyond the locked door.

"Shit" you muttered under your breath as you kicked the suitcase you had packed under you bed.

"No not yet" you responded as you quickly undressed yourself. You couldn't have him find out you were going to bailout on him. He'd have his entire gang searching every street for you but you also didn't want to attend one of those mafia gatherings.

You quickly slipped on that white dress of yours before unlocking the door and opening it.

"I'm decent" you said.

"(Y/n) do you really expect to get a man's attention with hair like that?" He said as he flicked a few strands of hair out of your face before sitting you down at you vanity and beginning to brush your hair.

"That's the point" you hissed.

"(Y/n) your mother and my father would want to see you like this, I understand that your still upset about the crash, I am too but we need to keep moving forward" he said causing your face to screw up in annoyance.

"I danm well know it wasn't just a car crash, I saw all those bullet holes!" you hissed. He sighed in return, be knew he couldn't hide the truth forever.

"(Y/n) I didn't want you to be afraid" he sighed as he hugged you.

"Please get ready now, we're leaving in fifteen minutes" he said as he left your room.

💎💎💎

Once you arrived you sat out at a balcony as far away from anyone as you possibly could. You didn't want to hang around your brother and whoever he was talking to and you definitely didn't want to be around all of the sugar babes who were boasting about what their sugar daddies got them.

You looked at the sky and stared at the stars, you parents must be looking down on you through the eyes of heaven. You sighed, what was the point of living a lavish lifestyle if it only reminded you what you lost.

"Excuse me, but are you alright? I couldn't help but notice that you were alone" You turned around to see a regal looking male, about your age standing by the door ask you. His features were hard to see due to the lighting.

"I'm fine... It's just that I prefer to be alone at these events" you replied.

"I know what you mean, the atmosphere can be suffocating at times" he sighed as he walked towards you. Now you could make out the blonde's features.

"You were at my parents funeral" you said.

"Yes I was, my condolences to you and your brother... It must be so hard to lose not just one but both of your parents" he said said as he held you hand.

"It's been tough on both of us but my brother seems more then capable in taking after our father" you said as you looked at him once again, you couldn't help but feel that you knew him before the funeral...

"I'm sorry to as this but have we met before mister" you asked

"Giorno Giovanna and yes I believe we have..." He said as he held his chin in deep thought.

You felt goosebumps form on your skin as you heard his name. This was the boy everyman in the underworld had been talking about. The boss of Passioné that had recently came out of hiding. The gangster prince of Italy.

"(Y/n) your last name was formally (l/n) before your mother married Don Caprice if I'm not mistaking, you use to get picked on at school because you helped me on multiple occasions" he muttered and that's when it clicked.

"Haruno Shinobana!" You exclaimed as you inspected him, he had changed so much... His dark ebony hair was now a golden blonde and those blue eyes of his were brighter and full of so much confidence compared to when you were kids.

"Oh you've changed so much!" You continued as you pulled him into a hug. He breath hitched in suprise as he felt you arms around you. Such fond memories of you seemed to flood back, causing a light blush to form on the teens face.

"I never thought I'd see you again" you said.

"Nether did I" he said as he returned you hug before pulling away.

"And to find you here as the Don of Passioné..." You really couldn't believe that the young boy who you always stood up for was now the most powerful man in Italy.

"Well I never expected you to end up mafia affiliated either" he responded.

You couldn't help but feel some sort of spark as you lost yourself in his blue eyes. You're body subconsciously moving closer to his once more, you gaze trapped in his gorgeous eyes until you closed your eyes as your lips grazed upon his. It was almost as if you had just been shot by cupid's arrow, unable to control your own sudden desires.

In return he pressed his soft lips against yours in acceptance as his hands rested on your hips. Your hands rested on his shoulders as you pulled him closer to deepen the kiss until you realised what you were doing, then you pushed away from him.

"Oh god I'm so sorry... I don't know what overcame me" you said as you covered your mouth in shock. You mentally beat yourself for your actions.

"(Y/n), there is no need to apologize" he said with a small smile on his lips.

"But just answer me this question" he continued. You stood in silence, unknowing as to what was happening.

"Did you ever at one stage have feeling towards me?" He asked causing your face to go red. It was true you had feeling for the poor ebony haired boy that everyone made a fool of, you alway felt the sorrow in his eyes and couldn't help but want to see a glint of happiness in them, even it was the smallest of glints you would have still been happy to bring him a little joy.

Seeing him now just just overwhelmed you with emotions that were becoming increasingly difficult to just bottle up. Seeing the look of confidence in his eyes that you had never seen before just seemed to make you fall into a trance like state and your heart seemed to almost want to burst through your chest.

"I did..." You muttered. As much as he tried to hide it he couldn't help but feel his face slowly going red as well. He couldn't deny that know that you had felt that way about him once reaffirmed the feeling he had once had for you but unlike before he wasn't just going to sit around and pick out his faults. He was going to tell you.

"I know this I so sudden but may I ask you out, at least on one date?" He asked, trying so hard to keep his composure. You looked at him and thought about it for a moment. What could be the worst to happen if you said yes?

"I accept you offer for a date, but I want to get to know you more if you want to me to get serious" you said in a flirtatious tone

💎💎💎

"Oooo who's this this guy your dating for the past few months" your "friend" Louise asked as she lifted up her Gucci shades and adjusted her bikini straps.

"I can't tell you... I promised I wouldn't, besides if my brother finds out I'll be dead meat" you replied.

"But I thought you said your brother wanted you to get wifed up at some stage?" She said before waving to a few guys some distance away from you.

"Well I did too but the guy I'm seeing... Well... Is part of a rivaling gang, I'm kinda just waiting til things just simmer down before I tell him" you explained as you grabbed some sunscreen and lathered it over your skin.

"Ooooo, but how are you seeing this guy without your brother, Leonardo knowing?" She asked.

"I'm sorta just telling I'm staying over at at a friend's house, he's to busy to check in on me" you chuckled.

"Wait are implying that you're staying over at his house, are you like, sleeping with him?!" She exclaimed. You swore some times she was too loud for her own good.

"Keep it down will you, the whole of China probably heard that!" You hissed.

"Sorry... But please tell me you've been sleeping with him? How is he? What's his technique?" She asked in a slightly hushed tones. Your face just turned red as you listened to her.

"N...no I haven't yet... But I was kinda planning after the next meeting he has we'd might..." You muttered.

"Ooo you get him girl!" She exclaimed again. If you could die of embarrassment she'd be charged with first degree murder.

💎💎💎

"I'm done, you can open your eyes now" Giorno said.

You opened them and gasped as you saw your hair, all nicely braided with various flowers intertwined.

"Gio... Giorno, it's beautiful... Your braiding is amazing" you exclaimed as you admire the work he had done.

"Well I braid my hair most of the time so it's not that hard for me" he said with a light blush.

"Besides... I need my gang to know who my most valued treasure is" he said as he kissed your cheek.

"I really hope one day my brother decides to stop the conflict between your gang and his... It kills me to have to keep you unknown to my brother" you sighed as you stood up.

"I just wish for such a secret to one day be opened too him without fear of how he might react" you continued.

"I understand amore, but let's just try to enjoy ourselves for now" Giorno said as he hooked his arm around yours as he guided you outside to reveal you to his gang.

All eyes were on you as you walked down. This may have been similar to the funeral but how they looked at you was not out of pity or remorse. They were looks of scrutiny. Except for one, a young black haired girl with a marking or scar across her eye who's were soft and conveyed a sense of administration. You also felt extremely underdressed, just wearing a standard evening dress while everyother woman was covered in enough bling to put a disco ball to shame.

Giorno could feel you unease and grabbed you hand and placed a small kiss on it.

"Amore you don't need to be afraid, I promise nobody will hurt you" he whispered.

💎💎💎

For maybe an hour or so you stood by him until his marksman, Mista pulled him aside mentioning something about a few documents and going over them with someone by the name of Polnareff.

"I'm sorry (Y/n) but something urgent came up, I need to head upstairs but you're more the welcome to enjoy the rest of the party" he said as he gave you a quick kiss before running off.

You let out a soft sigh. It was something to be expected of being with a mafia don but it was so bittersweet. Your both not even adults yet you both acted like you were. You both should be attending school and fooling around with barely a care in the world.

"I didn't know the don would be such a cheapskate" you heard a lady whisper.

"Yeah... Not even a piece of jewelry on her" another whispered.

"Flowers in her hair, that so childish... Girl needs to grow up" another whispered.

You were so sick of their stupid gossip.

"Well at least Don Giovanna, gives me the attention a woman deserves and not like yours who just give you their credit card and only wants you to be around them when their horny!" you hissed.

"If your gonna talk shit about me then say it to my face, not behind my back like the bitches you are" you continued as you walked past them and their stupidly shocked expressions.

For the rest of the evening you stood out on the balcony. Everything seemed perfectly quite until an older woman got your attention. She had long wavy black hair, deep blue eyes and her face was lathered in makeup.

"Oh you must by (Y/n), my sweet little Haru- I mean Giorno's girlfriend" she exclaimed in false joy as she hugged you.

"So you must be Giorno's mother" you said.

"Yes I am. Have you seen him by any chance? I've been looking for him for ages" she asked as she took a sip of champagne from her glass.

You had known enough about Giorno's childhood to know that her sickeningly sweet persona was just for show, she never cared about him until he saved a Mafioso and they'd threatened her.

"I'm sorry but he left, he had some business to attend to" you replied and in that moment she changed.

"If he's anything like his father, then you'd better keep an eye on him...or else you might just have to break another woman's leg to get his attention, your probably nothing more then a show off whore" she hissed before going back to her bubbly persona.

"I best be making my leave now, tell Giorno his mother loves him very much" she said before strutting off.

'what a bitch' you thought to yourself.

💎💎💎

"God... What do I do?" Giorno muttered to himself as he looked at a report from around a month before he'd taken over Passionè. A record of the assassination of Mr and Mrs Caprice.

"Tell her the truth, she seems like the kind of person that would understand" a french accented tortoise said, Giorno kept forgetting that Polnareff was around.

"Yes but her brother, not so much... I'm expecting a massive conflict with the Caprice's any moment" he sighed.

"Giorno, can I come in?" You called out as you knocked on the door.

"Yes" he said as he quickly hid the papers under another pile.

"Giorno the party's over" you said as you walked to his side.

"I'm sorry I left you alone" he replied.

"You don't need to apologize, I understand" you said as you kissed him on the cheek.

"I saw your mother... She told me to tell you she loves you" you said as you wrapped your arms over his shoulders. He didn't respond to you.

"Giorno, you need to relax... Come with me to bed" you said as you rubbed his shoulders.

"Ok then, I'll finish these of tomorrow" he sighed as he stood up before holding your hand.

"(Y/n) I couldn't ask for a lover as caring as you" he said before pecking you on the lips. He then walked with you to his bedroom and that's when things became heated.

💎💎💎

Giorno woke up and flick a few strands of his messy hair and looked at your sleeping form. A small smile formed on his face, you alway brought the young Don so much joy. The his head swung to the door as he heard the door open.

"Sorry for the intuition Don Giovanna but I have bone to pick with you" a familiar male said.

"I expected you to go something like this Caprice but my lover is asleep" he said, noticing you beginning notice you tossing and turning in your sleep.

"Well tell your whore to wake up and leave" he said as he pulled out a gun.

"Gio... Giorno... What's going on?" You mumbled as you woke up and sat up"

"(Y/n)!" Your brother exclaimed in shock.

"Brother!" You screamed as quickly pulled the blanket up to cover you. You watched his face go red and his hold on the gun become shakey.

"Oh Giovanna, you must be so happy for yourself... Not only do kill my family but then you just had to top it off by screwing my sister!" He hissed through clenched teeth.

"What...?"

"(Y/n) right beside you is the man that caused our parents death!" He continued as he pointed the gun at Giorno who sat quietly without even a sliver of fear.

"No! Put the gun down! You must be making a mistake, he would never had done that!" You yelled as you moved in front of Giorno.

"What makes you so sure?" He asked.

"I just know he wouldn't, Giorno wants to stop the illegal activity that's plaguing Italy" you said with confidence.

"You really believe the don of Passioné, they are only thinning other mafia gangs to strengthen his own control!" He hissed yanked you from the bed.he didn't care if you were only in your underwear, he was livid and all he wanted was to see the blonde male lying in a pull of his own blood. You tried your best to fight the gun out of his hand.

"Your ignorance has no bounds!" He yelled as he threw you back a wacked the end over your head causing you to fall over.

You covered your face in pain as you felt a small amount of a warm substance trickle down it. After all these years you never thought your kind and caring step brother do something like this to you, but you weren't made at him... You understood he couldn't keep his emotions under wraps.

Meanwhile Giorno was infuriated. Your own step brother would abuse you, something burnt up inside him. to him this no longer a negotiable matter.

You looked to Giorno as you heard the click of a gun ready to fire.

"Such a shame, I really had hoped that you would of been a better don then your father was but now I see that you are infact a lower being then he was... To me you are no longer the step brother of my lover, you are now just another bastard that needs to he cleaned off of the streets" Giorno said in a voice that was calm yet also full of malice before pulling the trigger.

You let out a scream as you saw your brother's brains splatter on the wall. You catch his falling body and cradle him in your arms. You cried and cried out his name in impossible hope that he was still alive.

"Giorno! Why would you do this!" You screamed.

"(Y/n) he hurt you, I can't just let him get away with that" he said as he walked over to you before trying to hush you.

"He... He was my last remaining family member... I can't believe I didn't believe him, you really must have sent my parents to their grave..." You muttered.

"(Y/n)... I didn't kill them, I wasn't-" he was going to say as touched you but was quickly silenced by you slapping him in the face.

"Don't touch me! I don't even know who you are anymore!" You screamed as you stood up and put on a bathrobe. Giorno stayed where he was in pure shock. His hand holding onto the cheek which was turning a harsh shade of red. The look of sadness and desperation from all those years ago returned to his eyes as he looked up at you.

You ran quickly out of his room and into the main hall.

"Don't let her leave!" Giorno yelled out to his guards but you could see that most of them were lying on the floor, most possibly dead from your brother's hands. You ran around blind in fear until you reached the atrium, it was a good place to hide you thought but then a familiar male grabbed you. His body had several bullet hole but he acted like it was nothing.

"Oi Giorno, I've got her!" Mista yelled out and shortly he arrived.

"You can leave now Mista" he ordered Mista, and he followed. Now it was just you and Giorno.

He sat you down on one of the small cobblestone walls which was right around the extremely large tree before several vines wrapped around you and pulled you against it.

You couldn't make sense of what was going on but you knew he was behind it.

"Giorno why?" You asked as you thrashed in his arms.

"I did this out of love, I'm doing this out of love" he said as kissed your cheek.

"I'll keep you here like the precious flower you are" he continued.

#yandere x reader #yandere jjba #yandere #yandere giorno #jojo giorno #jojos bizarre adventure #jojos #jojo #jojo no kimyō na bōken #jojo part five #jojo part 5 #jojo vento aureo #spacy works

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lia-jones · 4 years

Text

His Worst Nightmare - Halloween Ficlet

Author’s note: Ladies and Gentlemen, here it is, my halloween ficlet! Please be warned before you keep reading, this ficlet has a great deal of angst, and talks about murder, suicide, and mentions miscarriage. This is about going to the depths of human despair, so if you are easily triggered, tread lightly or avoid entirely.

Teaser: Victor wasn't afraid of ghosts or witches, but in a blink of an eye, his worst nightmare came true.

“Ok, wait for them to leave, they’re almost done signing the marriage certificates.” Mia ordered, full on business mode. “You, you, and you,” she pointed at the photographers, “stay alert at the reception tent, they will be coming out any second. And make sure you get good shots!” She watched them go in a hurry. “This is Victor Lee’s wedding, after all. Everything needs to be perfect.” Mia mumbled to herself.

The newlyweds left the gazebo, photographers surrounding them, the guests throwing rose petals and confetti at the happy couple. Mia couldn’t help her surprise by seeing Victor smile so much. He, who was usually so grim and serious, was now smiling grinning widely, the excitement in his eyes reminding her of kids before opening Christmas presents. That was joy. Happiness. Mia suddenly remembered her wedding and how she felt, the memory making her heart grow bigger for Victor. He deserved this. So did Andrea.

She directed her thoughts back to reality. She had a wedding to document.

“Ok, guys, get ready for the announcement.” She warned her staff, as she watched Andrea’s brother walk to the entrance of the wedding venue.

“Ladies and gentlemen.” He extended his arm towards the couple ceremoniously. “I give you the newlyweds, Mr. and Mrs. Lee!”

There was a round of applause and Victor and Andrea waved, his arm wrapped around her waist, holding her lovingly against him.

“Victor!” Mia called. “A kiss for the picture!”

Victor and Andrea turned to each other with loving eyes and a soft smile, their lips meeting as their arms softly wrapped around each other, eyes closing softly with the tenderness of each other’s touches.

“Ok, guys! I want the perfect shot!” Mia warned her staff.

Yes, there was a shot. The sound of a gun blasted through the blue sky and the tranquil landscape, making birds go on a frenzied flight, and everybody jump with alarm.

The happy couple gave a startled jump back, and Victor, grimacing, his complexion pale as a ghost, looked down to his chest, now red with blood. Someone screamed.

Victor’s eyes turned from pain to a panicked expression as Andrea collapsed into his arms, Victor barely able to catch her in time. A red spot started to grow rapidly on her back, staining her wedding gown.

“No, no, no, no, no, NO! ANDREA!” Victor cried. “Help! I need help!”

There was a commotion, people running in all directions in panic. Mia froze in the middle of the frenzied crowd, watching Victor take his wife in his arms and run inside the tent, laying her down in one of the tables that someone had emptied in a rush. Members of the family followed, circling the couple in panic, trying to assist.

“Andrea, stay with me!” He fumbled, trying to press the wound, but there was blood everywhere, in his shirt, in his arms and face, pooling on the table and falling to the ground. “Stay with me, help is on the way. Andrea! ANDY!”

Victor held her face, making her face him, pleading for her to keep her eyes open for him. But it was too late. With a heavy sigh, Andrea’s eyes fluttered closed, her bloody hand leaving the wound on her chest and flopping down the table, lifeless.

It was like time stood still. For a second, Victor could do nothing but watch as life left Andrea’s body, the flame extinguished. In that second, it was like everything around him died too. His expression morphed into one of utter despair, like everything he had good in him had simply vanished with Andrea’s last breath.

Mariana and Joshua screamed, running to the now breathless bride, but Victor didn’t even seem to register them. It was like the world had ceased to exist for him, and he couldn’t hear or see anything anymore, not even his painful howls as he held his loved one to his chest. A few minutes ago, they were happy, smiling. It took mere seconds for that happiness to crumble to pieces, leaving Victor a raw, open, painful sore. She was gone. Gone forever. It was inconceivable. It couldn’t be true.

Mia watched in tears as her friend held the love of his life in anguish, painful sobs wracking his body, desperate hands clinging to whatever he had left of her. Never in her life had she seen someone so broken. Andrea had been laughing just a while ago, and now she was merely a shell of skin and bones, covered in blood. Her face was serene and expressionless, the smile gone, the spark gone, her light faded.

And for some time, all the people in the room could do was helplessly watch in tears as Victor’s heart was ripped apart slowly and painfully, holding his biggest treasure in his arms, crying like a child.

______________________________________________________________

“It’s been almost half an hour.” The captain complained to Gavin. “We need to take the body for autopsy. A crime has occurred, we can’t just leave him there with her.”

“Any DNA you can find in her is hers or his, and the bullet went through and through, so it’s probably in him.” Gavin’s voice was shaky as he spoke. He knew Andrea, she was his wife’s friend. He could only imagine the CEO’s pain, holding his dead wife in his arms, on their wedding day. He was sure that if it was him and Mia, he would’ve gone insane. “Give him a little more time.”

“We can’t just leave him in there with a dead body!” The captain fretted. “This is a crime scene.”

“The dead body is my friend.” Gavin gave a menacing step towards the captain. “He just lost his wife. Give him ten minutes. If he’s not outside by then, I’ll go get him myself.”

“You’re different since you left STF for whatever job you got now.” The man spat, disgusted. “You used to abide by the rules. Now it’s like they are meaningless to you.”

“It’s not the rules I have a problem with, it’s the ones who make them. And what I follow or who I follow is none of your business.” Turning his back on the former colleague, Gavin ended the exchange.

Gavin knew Victor wasn’t one to easily give up on his ways, and it would surely prove to be even worse while grieving. And he wanted to avoid a scene at all cost, the whole situation being as painful as it was. He would have to tread lightly.

“Maybe you should go and talk to him, try to make him come outside willingly.” He asked his wife with a heavy heart. “I would ask her mother, but I can’t possibly do that.”

“What can I say?” Mia asked, uneasy. “What can I possibly tell him that will help him? I would be destroyed if it were you.”

Gavin didn’t reply. He had no idea. No one did. Even Victor’s assistant seemed lost, sitting on a corner with his wife, who was crying her eyes out.

That day a life was lost, but more than that, a dream was shattered. Not just for Victor and Andrea, but all the present. They all knew what Andrea had been through, how much both had to overcome in their personal lives to be together, and how they stood together, through it all. The people that didn’t know them personally saw them as a symbol of power, the people close to them saw them as a symbol of hope. And the hope in everyone’s hearts had died with a gunshot.

______________________________________________________________

“When I saw you walking down the aisle today, you took my breath away.” Victor whispered to the unresponsive Andrea in his arms, kissing her forehead softly. “I was so happy to have you and call you mine. My whole life, I have never been this happy.” Victor’s throat tightened. “I love you. I love you so much.” He leaned his forehead against hers, his nose lovingly touching hers. “What will I do now? What the hell am I going to do now? I can’t move on, you can’t ask me that.” He wiped his tears from her face, blood and salty water mixing on her skin. “I won’t be able to live without you. It’s torture.” The words gave way to sobs, that once again made his body shake in agony. He was lost. He was dead. He wished he was dead.

“Victor…” He heard Mia speak from the entrance of the tent. “Can I come in?”

“I will not let her go.” He warned bitterly.

He was sitting on the ground, his back painfully supported on one of the tent's pillars, cradling Andrea’s bloody body in his arms. He wrapped his arms protectively around her, hiding her from the world. The world had hurt her enough. He would protect her, even if just in these last moments, since he hadn’t been able to do so in the moment that mattered.

“I know the bullet landed on you, you need to get that checked.” Mia argued softly.

“I’m fine, it didn’t kill me.” He distracted himself again gazing at Andrea’s expressionless face, her lips a soft shade of purple, softly stroking her eyelashes, drinking in as much detail as he could. “I wish it would. I wish it would kill me instead of her.” He offered bitterly.

“Victor…” Mia tried again.

“NO!” His voice roared once more inside the tent, as he looked at her with wide eyes, filled with anger and tears. “I just lost her! I lost everything! Why are you doing this to me? I can’t let her go. The moment I do…” He paused, lowering his head towards his wife, suddenly losing all his strength. “I lose everything. I have nothing left.” His tears fell one after another, landing on Andrea’s now crimson dress. “Please don’t make me.”

“Can I see her?” He heard a familiar voice speak from the entrance, filled with pain and tears.

It was Mariana. Victor felt like a sharp pain in his chest, like somehow the bullet had left his rib and buried itself deeper inside him, making it hard to breathe. He fought for air, as the sobs only grew stronger. This was her child. Andrea was a bright light in many lives, not just his. Her family was also suffering a great deal with her death. He slackened his grip on his loved one, extending her limp body to her mother.

Mariana approached slowly and kneeled in front of them. A trembling hand rested on the bride’s face, moving to her golden curls, now mostly red.

“I still can’t believe that this happened.” She looked at Victor. “Who would do this?”

“This is all my fault.” Victor replied, feeling weak and ashamed. “It was probably someone who hated me, which is not hard to find in Loveland. They killed her because I loved her.” He started sobbing uncontrollably again. “I’m sorry.” He croaked between sobs. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Don’t say that.” Mariana reached for his arm, offering comfort. “You didn’t do this.”

Victor didn’t want comfort. He wanted Andrea.

“IT IS MY FAULT!” He howled again, losing his temper. “I failed her. I failed to protect her, I should have expected this, I should’ve known better, and I failed. WHY AM I NOT THE ONE PAYING FOR MY MISTAKES? WHY DOES IT HAVE TO BE HER?”

Victor was a sobbing mess, all the pain inside him set free, on display, for the world to see. Mariana cried with him, joined in the pain of losing someone they could not live without. Mia, on the sidelines, shed some tears as well.

“Victor.” Gavin called from the entrance of the tent, letting some nurses and a forensic team in. “I’m sorry, we can't delay this much longer. I held them back as much as I could.”

To Victor, the next moments were all a blur. He fought valiantly to keep her with him, only to lose. In a matter of minutes, she was ripped from his arms and stuck inside a black plastic bag, like she was nobody, like she was just a corpse, like she wasn’t the most precious person to ever set foot on this Earth. The moment she left the warmth of his arms, it was like his heart was ripped from inside him and taken with her. He felt an agonizing emptiness, even colder than her cold body, and he simply lost it. He screamed, he wasn’t sure what, but he screamed until his voice failed. He shoved and punched and kicked every person that would go near him, just for the sake of sharing his misery. He felt the prick of a needle on his shoulder, his body immediately too heavy to move, and the darkness came. He welcomed it, hoping whatever was in that syringe would kill him.

_______________________________________________________________

Victor woke up slowly, his brain still foggy, trying to grasp reality, trying to figure out where he possibly could be, and why. He opened his eyes and saw Mariana by his side, her eyes puffy and red. The question in his mind took forever to be formed on his lips. He already knew the answer to it, but the hope was something that soothed him, at least for a little while.

“Was it a nightmare?” He heard his voice, so very weak, barely inaudible.

Mariana’s eyes filled with tears, and she simply shook her head.

“Why are you here with me?” She was supposed to be with her, not him. He didn’t matter, he was hopeless. Unimportant. Nothing could help him. It made him sick to know that someone cared about him. He was unworthy, he hadn’t been able to protect her.

“She wouldn’t want me to be anywhere else.” Tears fell repeatedly as she spoke, and Victor felt sicker. She was also hurting, she had lost her child, and she was worrying about him. The remnants of Andrea’s love through their family, caring for him. He turned his face from her so she wouldn’t see him cry.

“They found the shooter.” He heard her again. “It was Daniel. He climbed a tree and hid there until she was in his line of sight. He killed himself in a hotel room with the very same rifle, left a note confessing the crime.”

Victor felt a wave of fury course through his body, shaking him to the core. The coward wasn’t even able to take the punishment for his crime like a man, he ended life on his terms after he extinguished the most beautiful flame in this world. After the fury, came the guilt. He should have seen it coming. He should have increased security, he should have thrown that scum in jail when he had the chance, he should’ve done a better job protecting her, he should have…

Despair hit him hard, and he was sobbing again, overwhelmed with self-loathing. The hate was in his blood, bitter and boiling, coming out through every pore of his skin. Something inside him snapped, and he just couldn’t take it anymore. The world blurred again as his rage took over, and he ripped off his IV, going next to the bandage on his chest. Why didn’t that bullet kill him? Why didn’t it pierce through him, and put an end to his misery? Why did it stay lodged in his rib, evil and taunting, keeping him alive to go through this torture? Arms wrapped around him and he only relaxed when he heard the precious name, Andrea. Andrea wouldn’t want this, Victor. Andrea would hate to see you like this. You need to be strong for Andrea.

He could feel the blood trickle down his chest and pool on Mariana’s shirt, and the arms around him, and the nurses in the room. Her tears on his shoulders, his tears on hers.

“Please, just let me die.” His plea was merely a whisper. “I don’t want to feel anymore.”

If there was a God, He probably heard him. The needle came again, and Victor knew nothing else.

_______________________________________________________________

“It’s beautiful here.” She spoke, leaning on his chest. “So peaceful.”

They were both lying on the grass, watching the lake, as Onyx and Naia got their deserved rest after some time galloping. Victor nudged his nose in her curls, taking in her scent.

“We can come here every weekend if you want to.” He offered. “My aunt loves having you here.”

“I particularly love this willow tree.” She sat up to touch the willow branches, leaving his embrace.

“Come back here, I’m getting cold.” He complained, pulling her to him again.

“You’re always the one telling me to put on clothes.” She teased him. “Why don’t you follow your own advice and put on your jacket?”

“I’m not that cold.” He held her tighter. “But I was warmer with you close to me.”

She nudged his chest, and Victor knew what that meant. It meant I love you.

“Did I tell you about the olive tree on top of the mountain, in my grandmother’s property?” She asked, eyes staring at the blue sky.

“The one no one harvests from?” Victor recalled that the tree remained untouched during olive picking. “Why is that?”

Andrea rolled on his chest to face him, her chin resting softly on his sternum. He tucked an astray curl behind her ear.

“My great-grandfather used to sit under that tree and watch the whole land from above, making his plans. Sometimes he would take my great-grandmother and just watch the stars with her. When they died, my grandmother buried them there, under their tree.” She rolled back to her initial position, watching the lake. “It must be nice, to belong to a tree like that. Instead of a depressing cemetery, we become one with nature. You’ll always have a beautiful view and children can play and rest under your shade. I think I would like that”

Victor stared at the sky, not knowing what to say. He never liked to discuss something as gruesome as death, especially if it involved her. Andrea shifted again, coming close to his cheek, kissing it softly. With a smile, he turned in her direction, his nose touching hers.

“Victor…”

“Yes, my light.” He smiled at her.

“You know I’m dead, right?” She looked at him with worried eyes.

“Andy…” The memory dawned on him and he held her tighter, tears in his eyes. She was right. He would never see her again.

“Will you bury me under the willow tree?”

He woke up with a start, only to find his hands restrained. The room was different too. He was probably in some psychiatric ward, he assumed.

“Hummingbird.” He heard his aunt call, from the opposite corner of the room. “How are you feeling?”

Irrelevant. He had no time to waste with idiotic questions.

“Where’s Goldman? We need to make arrangements.” For her funeral. But he couldn’t say the words yet.

Terry looked at him with sad eyes.

“He won’t be able to be here now. Diane lost her baby.”

_______________________________________________________________

“Mr. Lee, do you understand you were committed to this place under the assumption that you were a danger to yourself and others?”

The books were piled up on the desk randomly. Unorganized, falling askew on one another. Wasn’t she supposed to be a mental health professional? Why would she keep her desk like that? How could she do a good job surrounded by clutter like that?

“Yes. I am no longer a threat to anyone.” He replied, wanting to get out of there as soon as possible.

“Do you have someone to be assigned as your supervisor? To be responsible for your actions for the following weeks?” The doctor asked, smiling at him. Why was she smiling? Didn’t she know why he was there in the first place?

Victor shook his head, ready to refuse. Even if someone cared enough to take such a role, he did not deserve the attention. Besides, he did not need the babysitting, as he wasn’t sure what his next move would be. At that moment, his focus was on Andrea.

“I do not nee-”

“I’ll be his supervisor.” Terry intervened. “He will be staying at my place for the time being.”

“You and your supervisor need to sign the release at the lobby, as well as your consent to follow the Care Treatment Plan.” The doctor got up and extended her hand to Victor. “Feel better.”

Victor didn’t shake it. He got up and left.

A Care Treatment Plan meant medication. A full cabinet worth of it. Victor immediately decided he would take none or all of it at the same time, although he didn’t voice this idea to his aunt. He was given a plastic bag with his personal items. Expeditiously, he put it in his pocket.

He entered the car and fastened his seatbelt, turning immediately to the window. He couldn’t look at his aunt, he knew she would cry at any moment. She would want to talk about it. Victor didn’t want to talk. Or listen. Or feel. Or even exist.

“You look serene.” It was a question disguised as a statement. He didn’t answer.

Giving up on making him talk, his aunt turned the key in the ignition, willing the motor to life. After a while, Victor retrieved from his pocket the plastic bag he was given. He could almost hear her voice again, her warm hand around his.

Victor, with this ring I give you my all, promising to love you and cherish you, in the good times and the bad, in sickness and in health, now and forever.

Victor took out his wedding ring, matte platinum with three small blue diamonds to match the one on Andrea’s. With a shaky hand, he put his ring back on.

“Where’s the other?”

“The other?” Terry looked at him, puzzled.

Victor sighed heavily, not ready to start the unbearable subject. He couldn’t. He simply couldn’t. But he needed to know.

“Hers.” His voice was merely a whisper. Never in his life had it been so hard to utter a single word.

There was a pregnant silence filling the space between them.

“At my place.” He could feel her eyes on him as she replied, worried, observant. She cleared her throat, turning on the radio, probably hoping some music will make the mood less tense. Soon enough, a song he didn’t recognize was on.

I had all and then most of you

Some and now none of you

Take me back to the night we met

I don't know what I'm supposed to do

Haunted by the ghost of you

Oh, take me back to the night we met

When the night was full of terrors, and your eye-

Terry fumbled with the radio, trying to change stations.

… the dramatic story of Andrea Jones, now recently named Andrea Lee, who died from a fatal gunshot-

“Fuck!” Terry turned off the radio. Victor reached for the button to turn it on again.

… husband, Victor Lee, the reputable owner and CEO of Loveland Financial Group, was committed yesterday to a psychiatric facility that remains unknown, to recover from the shocking event. Andrea Lee had a brilliant career as a Head Researcher for Loveland University and had recently published a study about fair trade and smart strategies for cooperation between small companies. The institution posted a statement on their webpage presenting condolences to the family complimenting Dr. Lee and her work, revealing she was one of the strongest candidates for a GESA award this year.”

Victor smiled weakly, turning off the radio. She would’ve loved this. She worked so hard, every single day. She truly deserved it.

“That’s nice.” His aunt commented with a strained voice.

“Yes, it is.” Victor turned to his window again, swallowing tears. Silence filled the car again.

“Do you need to go to your apartment to get something?”

The answer was yes. But he was scared. At that moment, his heart was held by a very fragile thread, a thread that was linked to his wife. He feared that, should he cut it by facing the hideous truth of an existence without her, he would fall apart, like a puppet without a master. All these years, he had wandered alone, with no real purpose. But once he found Andrea, everything changed. All his hopes and dreams were on her, she was the vessel for everything good in his life. Now, he couldn’t just go back. He didn’t know how.

People say one can’t miss what one never had. But Victor did have it, for a wonderful year. And he foolishly took it for granted, only to have a coward take it away for good. Forever was not the forever he hoped for.

He wished he could explain that to someone, that the pain was so heavy in his chest he could barely breathe. Andrea would want that, for him to reach out, to seek consolation. But he didn’t have this many words in him, so he uttered just the one.

“Please.”

_______________________________________________________________

Victor entered the house slowly, placing his keys on the end table in the hallway. Walking a little further, he paused in front of the living room’s door, the bedroom wing further down to his right.

He had read somewhere that houses are like books, for they tell the stories of the people that lived there. Their hopes and dreams, their fights and long deep-felt conversations, all invisibly painted in the house’s walls, a testimony that no one would probably read, but it was still there, silently present. And yes, every single wall of his apartment held the story of the woman that came into his life and filled it with beauty and warmth, chasing away his ghosts, leaving only the good she saw in him.

Victor recalled the last moment he had entered his apartment. She had music playing. He could hear in the back of his mind the first chords of the song, the same one she liked to play on her piano when she was in a good mood.

When I think of those east end lights

Muggy nights the curtains drawn

In the little room downstairs

Prima donna Lord you really should have been there

Sittin' like a princess perched in her electric chair

And it's one more beer and I don't hear you anymore

We've all gone crazy lately

My friend's out there rolling 'round the basement floor

(Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh...)

He walked into the bedroom, the music now hopelessly stuck in his head. As he took her rose lace dress from the closet, the one she wore on their first date, the memories of her became more vivid, walking around the room barefoot, wearing only panties and her ridiculously old Donald Duck sweater.

“I know, I know, I’m late, but not as late as you think!” She defended herself, running around the room, picking items here and there while Victor watched her, amused.

She paused in front of him on her way to the shower, pulling him down for a kiss.

“A quick shower and I’ll be done, promise.” She smiled, turning to leave. He held her arms, raising a playful eyebrow at her.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Aren’t we late?” She gave him a quizzical look.

“Not if you keep your word and don’t spend eternity in that shower.” She glared at him, making him chuckle. “I just spoke to my aunt. They’re not expecting us for the next three hours.”

“So I have been running around for nothing? You could’ve told me sooner.” She complained.

“Not for nothing.” He kissed her cheek, tracing her skin to the nape of her neck with his breath. “You ran into my arms.” He then proceeded to remove from her arms every single item she was holding, one by one, throwing them carelessly on the bed, making her laugh. “Much better.” He wrapped his arms around her waist, swaying to the music.

“I thought you didn’t like this music.” She teased.

“I don’t” He was busy nudging his face into the sweet cocoon her curls provided. “But the pleasure of dancing isn’t about the music.” He smiled into her ear. “It’s about the dance partner.”

She leaned her head towards him, retributing tenderness.

“Can you believe we are getting married tomorrow?”

“Mhm.” Victor hummed with his eyes closed, enjoying her pleasant scent, and how she moved her body against his.

“After we’re married, I want to dance with you like this every day.”

She felt so warm, so soft. Victor could spend his entire life like this, holding her in his arms, losing himself in her perfume.

“You have my word.”

After never came. After was filled with hopelessness and despair. He went to the kitchen to get a ziplock bag, perfectly aware of how present she was in that division as well: the fridge was covered with her magnets, some pressing into place pictures of them together. All of these things were daggers in his already wounded heart.

With a sigh, he returned to the bedroom and took her sweater, folding in neatly and placing it in the bag, along with her pillowcase.

After retrieving a few more items, he sat on the bed, staring at the wall. Indeed, these walls had Andrea written all over them. It was remarkable how someone so small could fill such a large space like that. Part of him told him he would have to move to another place, living there with all those memories would be the death of him. Simultaneously, another part of him urged him to stay and cling to her presence, drink it all, until yes, he would die inebriated.

The doorbell rang, probably his aunt coming to pick him up.

“Are you ready?” She asked, her trained eyes on him.

With a nod, he walked to the door, prepared to leave. Until something caught his eye. He took a slow step back.

The water in the aquarium had a somewhat murky color, which didn’t make much sense. Had something fallen into the tank? Then he saw it. His pet, lying sideways, unmoving. Mr. Lobster was dead.

You’re a fool to believe it would be any different. You have the touch of death, causing the demise of those that dare to love you. In the end, it won’t matter. You will still die alone.

The voice in his head was cruel, taunting. And Victor’s small shred of resolve, the fragile glue that was holding all of his broken pieces together, dissolved instantly. Even the lobster had given up on a world where Andrea didn’t exist.

“He’s dead.” He whispered, feeling his body starting to shake. “How did this happen? HOW IS HE DEAD?!”

“Victor…” His aunt grabbed his arms, trying to calm him down. But he was already at the point of no return.

“NO!” He screamed, shoving her away. “MY WIFE DIED! My pet died! Goldman’s baby died! It’s like all the good in this Earth is leaving!” Tears were flowing freely now, Victor felt like he could collapse at any moment. He leaned against the wall for support. “Why can’t I be with the people I love? Why do they leave me every time? Why? Why didn’t I die with her, or instead of her? What was my crime, that I have to be punished like this? What was hers!?” Again, he screamed until his voice failed, he summoned all his demons out, hoping some of them would leave him alone. His aunt held him, and this time he let her. He sobbed in her arms until he had no more tears in him.

______________________________________________________________

He felt the bed dip beside him. Suppressing a smug smile, he decided to pretend to be asleep. A few seconds after, a soft arm wrapped around his waist. He had been right, she wouldn’t be able to sleep without him.

He quickly and suddenly turned to face her, making her jump slightly with the surprise.

“Finally.” He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer.

“Couldn’t sleep.” She complained, nudging her nose on his chest. “Missed you.”

“What makes you think I’m going to let you sleep?” He moved on top of her. “I have other plans for you.” He started kissing her neck, moving to her ear, to that sweet spot he knew would get her in the mood. The sweet mewl she let out was enough to get him hard.

“Mr. Lee, I can’t.” She pushed him away, even though he could tell she was starting to get aroused as well. “I’m getting married tomorrow.”

“To that idiot? He will have you for the rest of his life.” He teased. “Tonight is for us, and us alone.” He bit her bottom lip softly, making her gasp. “Make love to me.”

“Victor?” He felt a soft hand on his shoulder, apparently coming from the same source as the sound. “Wake up, Hummingbird. Time to get ready.”

“Ready for what?” He groggily opened one eye, finding his aunt by his bed. His hand instinctively touched the spot beside him on the mattress, finding it cold and empty. “Where’s Andrea?”

Silence. His aunt was looking at him with misty eyes, lip quivering, unable to answer. The memory of the last few days hit him like a stinging slap across the face.

“Victor…” His aunt moved to embrace him. He pushed her away.

“I’m not senile. Just sleepy.” He tightened his grip over his emotions, afraid to fall apart again. “Give me ten minutes.”

He let himself stand still under the hot water, trying to will his senses to acknowledge any kind of comfort. He felt numb, desensitized, a shell of his former self, like most of what made him had died with her. Safe in his solitude, he let his mind drift back to her. Although the pain was very present, part of him still couldn’t believe it. If Daniel hadn't decided to destroy his life, they would be in Bali. Instead, he was getting ready for her funeral.

So much had changed since she came into his life. He was usually so good at putting feelings aside, building layers and layers on them, burying them deep within himself, but now all he wanted to do was cry and let them out, the burden too heavy to carry inside his chest. This was her fault. She made him abandon his logical approach to the world, by showing him life was more than facts and figures, and was actually filled with feelings that taught lessons, and made life beautiful. He desperately needed back those facts and figures, and the walls he had been so skilled at building, but he didn’t know how to work with them anymore, now that he knew there was so much more.

He picked up a black suit, a black shirt, and her favorite tie, the silk black one with very thin stripes that were only noticeable under the light.

“I don’t understand that love of yours for black.” He heard her tease. “People will think you’re going to a funeral.”

He dropped the tie to the floor, breathing heavily, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. Carefully, he looked around, to find no one in the room except for him. Maybe he had been too hasty to leave the psychiatric ward, as he was clearly going insane. He could almost see her sitting on the bed, one leg tucked under her while the other dangled on the bed, talking to him, that sweet smile always on her lips.

“Wear the shirt I gave you. It brings out your eyes.”

He grimaced in pain. He missed her so much it physically hurt. What would he do without her? How could he live without hearing her voice every day, teasing him, playfully pointing out his quirks, comforting him?

Without a second thought, he opened his suitcase, pulling out a neatly folded teal shirt.

_____________________________________________________________

It was sunny, Victor could remember that. The sun was shining over the lake, making it sparkle in hues of blue and golden. It was a beautiful day. She would have loved it.

The house and the garden were filled with people, most of them Victor didn’t even know, but still came to him to talk about his wife. They told him about how vibrant she was, and talented, and a good friend. She always had a smile for everyone, she was always so strong and positive, she was a force of nature, taken away too soon. Victor never uttered a single word, just allowing people to share with him their experiences with his wife. He knew all that, better than anyone. He wasn’t surprised his aunt’s house was filled with strangers. If anything, he was expecting more of them.

He watched her for the last time, in her casket, before closing the lid. Everybody kept telling him how peaceful she looked, like she was sleeping. Although Victor agreed she did look serene, she didn’t look like she was sleeping at all. She usually slept with her face buried in his chest, her cheek comically pressed against his skin, her legs wrapped around his, like he was all she needed, like he was her safe haven.

He discreetly put the wedding ring on her finger. There was no other place where that ring should be, and no one else it could belong to. The beauty of that ring would end with the beauty of its owner, hidden below the surface, only a few people knowing it existed.

Josh and Goldman made a speech. Someone asked him if he wanted to say a few words, he refused. What he had to say about the love of his life exceeded rhetoric, and it all came down to four little words: She was his everything. And that, everybody knew.

He was led inside to sit on a chair, while people served him food he didn't eat and offered advice he didn’t need. When Josh came with a glass of whiskey, he took it gladly.

“I know we haven’t spoken since… You know.” Joshua mumbled. “But I don’t know what to say.”

Victor smiled weakly, although he wasn’t sure why. Maybe because they shared the suffering, and even though he couldn’t ease his own, he could do something for Andrea’s brother.

“I want you to know that, despite-” Joshua’s voice ended in a sob, and he paused to gather himself. “You’re still family. You’re still my brother. That won’t change.”

“Same goes for you.” Victor offered.

“Are you… Going to be on your own? Terry says you’ll be leaving today.”

“I’ve always been on my own.” Victor painfully stated. “Before her. I just need to remember how that’s done. Focus on work maybe.”

“Man, I’m so happy to hear that.” Joshua sighed with relief. “I thought you were going to go on a drunken stupor, or do something stupid. Andrea would’ve wanted you to move on.”

“I have that bottle of Remi your father gave me.” Victor offered. “I still need to finish that one.”

______________________________________________________________

Victor entered the apartment again, this time to find it empty. Like before. It was like his life had come painfully full circle, erasing everything good that he had in between, leaving only the memories.

He took his coat off and grabbed the bottle of brandy he got for his wedding. Pouring himself a glass, he took a pen and paper and started writing some notes for his assistant for next week. He wouldn’t be able to be present at LFG, but he couldn’t abandon it either. Goldman would have to step up sooner than he expected. Victor was sure he would be the right man for the job. After all, and he couldn’t help but smirk, Goldman had learned from the best.

He went to his coat, retrieving from it something he had asked Mia for a while ago: a flash drive. It contained something she had prepared for the reception and he never got the chance to see: a presentation with pictures of him and Andrea, as kids and as adults, and lately, as a couple.

The familiar chords of a guitar sounded in his study, then a drum, then the words Andrea would sing when she thought she was alone in the kitchen.

Imagine me and you, I do

I think about you day and night, It’s only right

To think about the girl you love and hold her tight

So happy together

The picture of him one Christmas, with a toothless grin. A girl with golden curls and a boy with brown hair, wearing ugly reindeer sweaters. Victor as a teen, graduating from high school. Andrea, dressed in black, in a piano recital. Victor cutting the tape at the inauguration of LFG. Andrea wearing her black academic suit, smiling widely with some friends.

Me and you and you and me

No matter how they toss the dice, it had to be

The only one for me is you, and you for me

So happy together

Pictures of them together. Their selfie with Dubai’s sandy beaches in the background. A picture of them talking, oblivious to the fact they were being photographed, at Goldman's wedding. Another selfie, rock climbing. Victor couldn’t help but smile widely at that one. He was so proud of her.

For the first time in days, Victor felt something good. He was grateful for having her. She was the best thing that ever happened in his life, the happiest, the most powerful.

I can't see me lovin' nobody but you

For all my life

When you're with me, baby the skies'll be blue

For all my life

With a serene smile, Victor opened the drawer of his desk, retrieving something from it. He chugged the rest of the brandy in his glass, letting out a content sigh. Getting up from his chair, he left the study with a decided spring on his step.

The moon was big and bright, lighting the space in the living room. From his huge window, he could see the skyline shining underneath the starry sky, embellished with the city lights. It was a beautiful night.

From the study, he could still hear the music, the one she hummed happily, making his heart skip a beat.

So happy together (oooooooooh)

Victor smiled. Finally, he was feeling some relief.

So happy together (oooooooooh)

He pressed the barrel of his revolver on his temple.

So happy together (ba-ba-ba-ba ba-ba-ba-ba)

There was no sound. Only Victor falling to the ground, a pool of blood surrounding him.

_______________________________________________________________

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Mia screamed.

“What? What’s the matter?” Gavin rushed to her, but she wasn’t paying attention. She was staring ahead in pure dread to the bride and groom in front of her. They looked at her, horrified at the blood-curdling scream.

“What’s going on? What’s happening?” Andrea asked. “Are you alright?”

That’s when Mia noticed everyone was staring at her.

“Erm…” She had to think fast. Think, Mia, think. “Nothing… It’s just…” She hesitated.

“Just say it.” Victor was starting to lose his patience. “What is the problem?”

“Ah, you can’t go to the reception tent just yet!” Thank God, she had come up with an excuse. “I mean, we haven’t taken pictures inside yet!”

“Inside?” Andrea gave her a puzzled look. “We will take pictures after we eat. I’m starving and my feet are starting to hurt.” She motioned to leave, but Mia held her arm.

“No! You can’t go!” She screamed, making the couple’s eyes widen in surprise. “Please, please, this is important.” She paused, trying to think of a better excuse. “The real reason is… I want to have a word with you and give you my wedding present!” Before they could retort, she added. “Please.”

“I think we can give her five minutes.” Victor looked at Andrea, his eyes full of sweetness.

“Alright. As long as I don’t have to take pictures.” Andrea agreed.

“Wait for me inside, ok? And don’t leave!” Mia’s urgency only made the couple chuckle, blissfully unaware of the danger. “I’m going to get my present, I’ll meet you in the living room.”

Mia didn’t walk, she ran. And she only stopped when she found Gavin again, on his way to the reception tent to have a drink with all the guests.

“Do you trust me?” She held her husband's arms in all seriousness.

“Ok, Mi, you’re starting to freak me out, what’s wrong?” Gavin looked her in the eyes.

“I had a vision.”

“Mia, that’s impossible. You don’t have an Evol anymore.” Gavin’s eyes became worried.

“Gavin, I know what I saw! I had a vision, a vision so clear that I could feel what they were feeling, like I was inside their minds! I saw into Victor’s memories!” She grew impatient. “Her ex is hidden in the trees outside the tent with a gun, he’s going to kill her! You have to stop him without them noticing. It’s going to ruin their day.”

“You’re one hundred percent sure of this?” Gavin insisted.

“Yes!” She pecked her husband’s lips. “Please be careful. Don’t go by yourself.”

Back in the house, Mia presented the couple with her gift: matching aprons, spelling Mr. Pudding and Mrs. Pudding. Victor blinked at her.

“That is what all the fuss was about?” He looked at her, frowning. Andrea took his hand.

“It’s very nice, Mia. Thank you.” Andrea gave her a warm smile, turning to Victor after. “We should go, people are expecting us.”

“No!” Mia held both their hands. She wondered how Gavin was doing. “I want you to know that I’m very happy to see you together.” Tears pooled in her eyes as she remembered her vision, an inconsolable Victor holding Andrea’s dead body. “I wish you the best… And I hope to have some pudding made while wearing those aprons!”

“Wow… Mia!” Andrea took her hand, consoling her. “Thank you! I didn’t know you felt so strongly about it!”

“I do!” Mia exclaimed, taking the chance to keep talking while keeping them in the house. “Victor is my longtime friend, and I feel like we are friends too! I think we should have a double date!”

Mia’s phone vibrated in her purse. It was a text from Gavin.

We got him. He’s being taken right now.

“As long as you don’t do the cooking.” Victor jested, but Mia didn’t react. She was still staring at the phone.

She had done it. It was over. She had changed the future. It could be done.

“I think we can arrange something.” Andrea chimed in. “And I’ll help Mia cook if she wants to, right Mia?” She shook Mia’s shoulder. “Mia? Are you with us?”

“Yes.” Mia snapped out of her trance, turning to them. “Let’s get you in that tent, don't let me keep you waiting.”

As they left the house, they heard the police sirens from the cars leaving the estate. Andrea looked at Victor, a worried look on her face.

“What happened? Why are the police leaving?” Victor wrapped a protective arm around his wife.

“Nothing serious. There was an unauthorized reporter on the premises. Gavin took care of it.” Mia shrugged, trying to look relaxed.

The happy couple moved to the reception tent, where Joshua waited for them.

“Ok team, get ready!” She warned the photographers. “I want the perfect sho-, ahem, I mean, picture!”

“Ladies and gentlemen!” She heard Joshua. “I give you the newlyweds, Mr. and Mrs. Lee!”

Victor and Andrea kissed for the picture. And nothing happened. It was just them, the people that loved them, laughter and happy tears. Just as it should be.

Mia felt a loving hand on her shoulder. It was her husband. He looked like he had fought a bear, his face bruised, cuts and scratches everywhere.

“Oh my, are you okay?” She fussed over him.

“You were right.” Gavin sounded confused, as he was still trying to piece together what had just happened. “He had a suicide letter with him, explaining what he wanted to do and why. You saved her.”

“No, you are the hero in this story. Thank you for believing in me.” She wrapped her arms around him. “And trust me, you did more than save Andrea’s life. You saved Victor’s too.”

“I bet.” Gavin let out a bitter chuckle. “I would be destroyed if I were you.”

“My words exactly.” She pulled her husband for a kiss.

If you can, share some love with me or spread it around! HAPPY HALLOWEEN, beautiful people!

#halloween #mlqc fanfic #suicide #miscarriage #murder #human despair #angsty victor #love and producer #mister love queens choice #mister love dream date

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diddlesanddoodles · 4 years

Text

Dumpling ch. 18

Maevis busied himself for the next hour by returning the books to their proper homes while Barnaby gathered Jae and Nenani over to one side of the table. Under a green cloak, was an old wooden trunk. The wood was worn and dark with age. The metal was unpolished, but strong. With difficulty and a bit of help from Jae, Barnaby lifted away the lid to reveal the treasure inside.

Books. Human sized and bound in black leather.

He ran his finger along the spines of the top layer, scouring the gilded letters.

“A small miracle these survived,” he said. “But I believe the one I want is...ah, yes this one. My boy, would you mind to clear some room here? Those paint pots are dried so no worry about them spilling.”

Jae obediently made room on the small work table as the older man pulled one book out slowly and with great care before placing it open upon the table. He gestured for Nenani to come look. She had a little learning of letters, but had not been very studious and the years of disuse after her parent’s deaths had left her reading comprehension sorely lacking. “I’m not very good with letters.”

“Oh, well we will have to sort that out in the future. But for now, I will read them to you. These pages list the names of men who were all apart of the Thorn Guard. Listed by family. This page here is where the Family Daelg begins. And as you can see...” he flipped through several pages. “...there are many of them. Your forefathers were all in the guard for many many year. One of the oldest serving families. Protecting the King and kin.”

“Papa guarded the King? Really?” She drew up an image of her father in her mind and had no diffuculties reconciling with image. In her eyes, her father had always held all the qualities of a knight from stories he read her. Brave, selfless, and loyal. It warmed her heart to know she had been right, but it fueled her need to know more.

“No, he was not high enough in rank to be so close to the King himself. Your grandfather would have, yes. Often. In fact I do believe that was his last official post. But here, look.”

The archivist ran his finger along bottom of the page. “This your father’s entry. Hayron. Born to Hayier Daelg by his wife Maudre on the fourth of September in ninth year of King Haeral’s rule. Your Uncle, Halden was born little over a year later in the winter.”

There was not much more about her father or uncle in the book and very little revealed itself in the other tomes. But Barnaby was gracious enough to tell her stories her remembered about them when he was still the archivist for Silvaara. However, she was able to get a better picture of her Grandfather, Hayier. As captain of the Thorn guard, his name repeatably popped up throughout the pages.

“They use to call him Old Ironwood, because he was so straight and unyielding,” he told her. “He was a fierce fighter, your grandfather.”

“You should come to open call and see Rheil break in the new recruits,” Jae suggested. “It’s in a few days, isn’t it?”

“Yes, I believe so.”

“Seeing as she’s got Thorn Guard blood,” Jae grinned at Nenani and poked her with his elbow. “Maybe she’ll pick up a few things.”

Barnaby looked as though he were about to protest, but was cut off by Maevis. “Oh dear. My friends, we may have a problem.”

The three humans looked to see the magician standing near one of the windows with a small stack of books in his arms, one arm still holding one out as he was slipping it into an empty spot on the shelf. He was looking down at something below.

“What’s wrong?” Jae asked.

“Just now, I noticed Hev leave the west side corridor.”

Jae’s face fell. “Oh….oh, that’s bad.”

Nenanmi turned to Jae and asked, “Why is that bad?”

He sighed and rubbed a hand through his hair before giving her a sympathetic glance. “Because that means he’s coming back from the kitchens.”

Nenani felt her insides turn as understanding settled in. “Maybe he was just getting a snack?”

Barnaby placed a hand on Nenani’s shoulders. “I am afraid my dear that the proverbial cat, as they say, is out of the bag.”

“So that means...” She trailed off with a groan.

“Yep,” Jae replied. “Farris knows you lost your marker.”

………………………

They had left the library, saying their goodbyes to Maevis and Barnaby, and made the slow trek back through the tunnels towards the kitchens. Jae tried to reassure her that they could still potentially come upon the marker somewhere along the tunnels in a fortuitous turn of luck. Grateful as she was for his continued optimism, she knew without giving it concrete consideration that it would be a fruitless venture. It was gone forever. Plain and simple. And she felt sure that facing Farris was a much better direction to take. How could she ever explain to Jae or to anyone what she had seen? How could she ever find her way back, even if she wanted to prove that she had not been making the whole thing up?

The moment they stepped into the dark, she had expected to hear the voices again, to feel dizzy, or to feel anything beyond the norm. But it was as it had been before. Just a tunnel illuminated by Maevis’s orbs. Nothing strange about it. As they moved along the path, she kept a close eye on the light, worried that any second they were disappear and the heat-less flames would come back, beckoning them both towards the catacombs. But they did not. She decided in that moment that it had never happened and she never needed to waste another thought on what lay deep inside the walls of Vhasshal.

Jae sensed her anxiety and gave her a cheeky smirk.

“If he’s that mad, you could always stay here in the tunnels with me,” he offered. But his grin faded when he received no reply. “It’ll be OK, y’know. I promise. Farris will yell for a while and maybe make you sweep the kitchen by yourself or something like that. Make a tiny broom for you or something.”

“Yeah,” she replied lowly as they rounded the last corner and could see the door to the kitchen. A faint string of light outlining its shape in the dark. “Maybe.”

Drawing nearer, they could hear Farris hollering nearly twenty feet from the door.

“Oh,” Jae said with a frown. “He’s pissed, alright.”

Nenani grimaced and groaned, not looking forwards to what was to come. She hoped she wouldn’t go deaf. As they approached the tunnel door, Farris’s words became that much more audible. “...COULD YA BE THAT STUPID?! ONE SIMPLE THING!”

“Well, old Hev did mention the request came from Keral,” Yale’s voice, much softer and muffled by the stone, replied. His words were barely heard. “Wouldn’t be shocked if he’s also the reason why.”

Jae glanced over his shoulder and motioned for Nenani to stand behind him and then slowly eased the door open a few inches. It was quite heavy, however and despite his best efforts to make a quite and inconspicuous entry, the hinges creaked. A high pitched shriek of old and oil thirsty metal.

“I COULDN’T GIVE A..” Farris’s voice abruptly cut off at the sound and Jae froze, eyes wide and mouth grimacing. They both stood silently behind the ajar door, waiting for something to happen. Perhaps the two giants would continue on speaking and not notice anything. However, when Farris’s voice struck up again, it had lost almost all of its previous volume and was replaced by an irritated snark. “Well? Ya just gonna skulk behind the fucking door or ya what?”

With a resigned groan, Jae pushed the door open the remainder of the way. Hesitantly and with an uneasy smile, he stepped through and onto the mantel’s surface. Nenani was on his heals, pressing herself behind him as if to shield her from the sight of the giants. Farris loomed over the pair, a severe scowl plaster upon his face. One hand was clenched at his side while the other was planted firmly on his him.

“Farris, I can explain-” Jae began, but he was completely ignored and without even allowing him to finish, the giant reached out and slammed the door to the tunnel shut. The same hand then turned to grab up the young man and plucked him from the spot where he stood. “WHOA-hey!”

“Yale!” Farris barked while holding Jae out away from his person, never averting his eyes from Nenani. Behind gritted teeth, he hissed, “Find somewhere more fitin’ fer this one to be that ain’t in m’face.”

Yale started, hastily lowering the crock he has been holding onto the table before moving to Farris’s side with alacrity and reaching out for Jae just as Farris’s fingers released their grip. Jae cried out in alarm as he dropped the three feet before landing in Yale’s outreached palms.

“As ya say, Boss!” Yale replied, giving Jae no time to recover or add his own commentary, and promptly sprinted out the archway and into the courtyard.

“Saen!” Farris barked, his eyes still not wavering from Nenani. On the other side of the kitchen, Saen was elbows deep in flour. Upon hearing his name, the young giant jumped, sending a small plume of flour up into the air.

“Uh, yeah?” He asked tentatively.

“Leave it be fer th’moment and go see Bart.”

“Aye, will do.” Same as Yale, Saen quickly made his exit through the archway, leaving Farris and Nenani alone. In that moment of silence, she was reminded of just how imposing a figure Farris was and being the focus of his ire was truly a terrifying experience. It was not wholly dissimilar to their first meeting and though she was absolute in her confidence he would not harm her, she could help but shrink away.

“Don’t suppose ya have some shit of a’reason fer not having yer marker, eh?” he began sternly. His voice strained as he struggled to maintain his tone. He waved a hand at her before crossing both arms and staring at her expectantly. “Well then, let’s have it.”

Her tongue felt twice its normal size and all she managed was a few false starts and stutters.

“Yer gonna just gap at me like a fucking lipper or is that all ya got?”

“N-no...” she managed to mumble out quietly.

“Gonna have t’be doin’ better than that, Dumplin,” said the spice master. He opened one palm to reveal a small scrap of leather at the end of which dangled a piece of struck metal. Her new maker. “You remember at all why these are important?”

“So...so other Vhasshalans leave me alone,” she replied, swallowing thickly against the growing tightness in her throat.

“NO!” Farris roared. “ITS SO THEY DONT FUCKIN’ EAT YA!”

Nenani jumped, stumbling back until her shoulders hit the wall and she stared wide eyed up at the giant. Hot tears fell rolled down her cheeks. Farris was red in the face and snarling, his anger open and on show. It was too hard to meet his gaze and she averted her eyes to stare at her feet.

“Thrist aint’ th’only fucker that would try t’gut n’ roast ya if he thought he could get away with it. Are ya soft in the brain t’ave forgotten that?”

“No, I-I just...I’m sorry...” Nenani whimpered.

“And ya’d be even sorrier if...”

“Farris,” said a voice from the archway, cutting his words short. Farris turned to glance over his shoulder, giving Nenani a clear view of the doorway. Captain Rheil, dressed in his red boiled leather armor stood under the entryway, and wearing a somber and serious expression. “Forgive my interruption, but I need to speak with you.”

“Can’t ya see I’m busy?” Farris growled in annoyance, but the gray haired giant’s steel gaze never wavered.

“Believe me, you will want to make time for this,” he replied. “This matter concerns the humans.”

Farris turned fully face Rheil, head tilted in interest. “Alright, on with ya then. What other trouble have these wee brats managed?”

“Nothing like that,” the captain replied, taking Farris’s affirmative response as invitation to enter, and he stepped into the kitchen proper. “This matter involves all the humans on castle grounds, I am afriad. There have been several troubling reports.”

“Reports? What reports?”

“You’re familiar with Queen Rosanna’s personal guard, Creag, correct?” Rheil asked. When Farris grunted an affirmation, he continued. “I’ve also been fielding complaints about him since the Ibronian procession arrived last month. Harassing wait staff and some of my men for the most part, but he has also made several threats against both Sawyer and Connar. There has been a sharp uptake in his behavior and the Ibronian has been outright violent since the wedding, but today both Maevis and Keral came to me about him explicitly trying to kill Jae near the Royal apartments. Your ward was reportedly with him at the time of the incident.”

Though she could not see his face, Nenani watched the muscles of Faris’s back pull taught and his fits ball up.

“That fish nosed fuck tried t’murder two children right under the King nose?” Farris’s demanded. It was a tone Nenani had not heard him use and it felt much more dangerous than his normal level of anger. A deep, guttural growl with real vehemence behind it. He fixed the captain with a razor edged glare. “Rheil, yer lot better be doin’ somethin’ ‘bout this fucker. ‘Cause I can’t be promisin’ ya that me and my boys won’t.”

The captain seemed to have anticipated this reaction and held up a placating hand. “My men are escorting him to an audience with the King as we speak and I have plenty of witnesses to attest to the event. My main mission in coming to you was to let you know to keep a short leash on the lil’un for a while. Keep her down here and out of sight while things are taken care of upstairs.”

“Aye.”

“And since the brat’s already down here as well, that makes my task all the simpler. The King requests the same of Jae. Don’t allow him to squirrel away some place of his own choosing. The King has ordered him to remain down here and under your supervision until his Majesty comes to collect him in person.”

Farris cursed and shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “Gods piss on it all. It’s fuckin’ Baynor all over again.”

“Luckily for us, the Ibronian does not posses nearly the political currency as my predecessor,” Rheil replied. “However, the Queen has an ample supply and my observations have been that she is heavily reliant on him.”

“Ya expectin’ any trouble?”

“No,” Rheil replied. “Nothing so bad as when Baynor was ousted. But I would rather be prepared in any case and his Majesty was very clear. Jae is to remain here.”

For a long moment, no one said anything and Nenani wondered if she had been forgotten entirely.

“Aye,” Farris said finally and nodded. “They’ll be watched well and good.”

Rheil hummed in approval and tilted his head to the side to look passed Farris to fix Nenani with a warm smile. “Haven’t see ya in a good long while, lass. Hope that walking boulder didn’t hurt ya none.”

Nenani shook her head. “No. He wasn’t really going after me.”

“So I’ve been told,” Rheil said. “Jae does seemed to have been th’ main target, but I have no doubt he’d have just as well treated ya to the same had he caught ya. Keral mentioned he found ya wanderin’ ‘round by yerself. Lost in the halls without yer marker.”

There was a teasing nature to Rheil’s words.

“S’that how ya lost it then, eh?” Farris asked, pinning her with one green eye.

She shrugged meekly. “I don’t remember it falling off. I had it and then I didn’t. I was running a lot.”

Farris sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, before turning to her and walking up to the mantel. He held her new marker aloft between two fingers and as she reached out to take it, he told her firmly, “Best be learnin’ to take better care of it, Dumplin’. ‘Cause if yer ever needin’ another anytime in the next ten years, I’ll be tying one end of a short lead to ya and th’ other to a lipper barrel and ya can live in the yard.”

She stared and then nodded fervently before quickly clipped the leather around her neck. The metal was almost hot from being clenched in Farris’s fist for so long, but there was a measure of comfort with the now familiar weight being back along her collar bone. She peeked up at the kitchen master, cautiously optimistic.

“So...does this mean I’m not in trouble anymore?”

#g/t writing #dumpling #Giant/tiny #Fantasy Story #Nenani #Jae #Barnaby #Maevis #Kera #giants #humans #Vhasshal #Rheil

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endermtheswordsman · 4 years

Text

Tidbits and Quirks on Enderm, his Tribe, and Corven!

Enderm: He often has an issue of feeling too powerful due to his spells, age, knowledge, and versatility with his magic, making him often act a little arrogant. And while it is justified in him feeling this amount of power and confidence, it still has left him in several binds where he could have benefited heavily from assistance from others. (He also has an absurd obsession with books and scrolls collecting, so bring him one and he will hug you and thank you and give you just about anything he can as compensation!) Gael: His magic, while vast and powerful, actually creates a bit of an opposite effect to what Enderm’s does to him. Gael will often times call on others to ensure success in an attempt, even if it is something that he could have easily done! Much like when he was teaching Suki, and called upon Enderm to lend a hand where he could have simply explained on his own, due to his own magical knowledge and intelligence feeling lacking in his own opinion, when he is in fact quite intelligent and well versed in the arcane arts. (He adores the hell out of magical artifacts, and loves studying them, but above that, he adores his student/adoptive daughter, Suki. So a gift for her is far more meaningful to him, than anything else, as it eases his own mind of being the only source of Wizardry Teachings in her options list.) Clax: He’s a massive brute and thick and stubborn headed as they come. His simple thought process often gets him labeled as a brute, when he actually is smarter than most would give him credit for. He doesn’t mind however, as he actually prefers people to think him a simpleton, as it amuses him to spring some knowledge on them when they don’t quite expect it. Reading may not be his strong suit, but he has a near photographic memory that helps with repeating things, which helps throw people off. (He also has an absurd love for cute and small animals and things, and has taken quickly to addressing the family he has around him, Suki, Sotsona, Skitters, etc., by a variety of endearing nicknames of the animals or creatures they remind him of. For Yuki for instance, it is “Little Dove”.) Xavier: A quite and simple man, he is not one to talk much, if ever, in the presence of those he doesn’t know. His voice is strong and demanding, but he doesn’t use it much for reasons even he doesn’t know. In reality, he has exceptional social anxiety that makes it nearly impossible to speak up when around anyone other than the select few he chooses. (He often involves himself in making the few people he knows that he talks to, feel as comfortable as possible around him, out of a nervous fear of them leaving, and will often leave them small gifts here and there to encourage conversation. Though he still kinda stinks at it.) Sarabel: She is much like Z’sophia, to a degree, where she was shunned by her original family and found a family of her own with others, though unlike Z’sophia, was fortunate enough to find that family once again among her own kind. She is quiet, but speaks up often and enjoys singing in solitude, though many of the songs she sings are bittersweet, as they remind her of her lost family that threw her out over the mottled skin that depicted her as a bad omen. (She LOVES sweets to a degree that is absurd, and much to her own shame, has openly snatched several from Sotsona when she wasn’t looking. She feels guilty, but damn goes guilt taste sweet as hell sometimes!) Arya: She is a wizened old woman of a Firbolg that adores cooking and it is easily shown by the large cauldron she lifts and carries on her back with such ease during long travels and stays at other places. She is fiercely protective of children, or those she deems as children or her own family, even extending to a rather troublesome and, originally, rude little Hangman’s tree that lives not far from her own current cabin on Sotsona’s farm. She will reprimand you for being stupid, and coddle you with a tasty meal afterwards as she lectures you on self care and being smarter than that! (Despite her love of savory, sweet, and sour dishes that she makes so often. She actually quite likes bitter-sweet foods and snacks, as they always surprise her with their strange combination of the tastes!) Valen: He’s an old leather worker that has seen centuries come and go, but still has a rather cheerful, if realistic, outlook on life. Though his gruff voice would make one think he is always being sarcastic like an old grandpa-type would be. He loves working on metal armors too, as well as leather and any other material he can get his hands on. This has created a love of making personalized armor and tools for those he meets and has fond relationships with, such as with Enderm, in constantly up-keeping his Scale Mail, and making special armor for Clax, as well as the weapons of the 3 main guards of the tribe. (He adores gifts of rare minerals, ores, gems, and monster parts that he can use to make new items, armor, and tools! He’ll often repay the person by using some of the material for a personalized item or armor piece just for them!) Kareem: A sweet young girl with a passion for normal medicine, she follows heavily in Enderm’s footsteps of loving to heal and give life to those that have been harmed or had their own taken too soon. She actually doesn’t like using magic as much as she likes to tend to wounds with her own hands, and won’t use magic unless it needs a speedy or immediate recovery, or if there is no other way she can think of. Though she will use it in the case that Enderm tells her too, as she knows his judgement on situations involving wounds often outshines her own due to his experience with this field. (She loves flowers and fancy medicinal plants, as well as gardening these plants and crops to grow. Though not nearly as well versed as the likes of Sotsona, she aspires to possibly raise a field of flowers, herbs, or crops of her own one day, and to have others stand in awe of the fruits of her hard work! Without magic of course! Cause nothing is better than good old fashioned hard work!) Sereval: Not to be confused with Sarabel due to their similar sounding names, she is a seamstress by trade, and a lovely poem writer as well, though she never has the confidence to let people judge her poems or hear them, unlike she will so readily throw fancy and custom fitted clothes and the like with the hope that they will love her work and keep it. She loves to especially give out clothes to children, and will often spend painstaking days getting all the dimensions right before giving them to the recipient. (New clothes and textiles she hasn’t seen before are an amazing thing to her, as she has rarely gotten the chance to ever truly explore her own craft outside of her own teachings and the teachings of an old book, so providing her with new books or strips of cloth and details on how to make them or weave them into something, will make her day.) Alexyz: He’s a tough and gruff old man with a rather surprisingly mid-range voice that completely contrasts his size and presence. This however makes him more approachable, which brings him joy when interacting with children, or being a silly old man with the ladies that he meets, as he, despite his imposing size, is one that adores having a good time. He loves to sing, much like Sarabel, but unlike her, doesn’t have the voice for it. Though he often will engage in helping Valen in making materials, armor, tools, and the like, he also often gets Valen and Clax to join him for singing sessions on nights that they wish to celebrate, where his voice actually harmonizes between the two of them. (He actually doesn’t have much he doesn’t like, but when it comes to specifics, heartfelt gifts always touch him, and make him teary eyed, even if the gift isn’t something he would normally enjoy, he’ll still treasure it like a very sentimental old man.) And finally!: Corven: He’s a friend of Enderm and the tribe, and is an absolute lover of tea and making business deals. Unlike many in his field, he never uses his bardic talents to lull people into an unfairly worded deal that makes him come out as the ‘winner’ of the deal, and always prefers a solid and fair deal for both parties. He often gets mistaken for a Leprechaun due to his size, choice of dress, and accent, not to mention his red tinged facial hair and hair on his head and eyebrows, but he doesn’t mind correcting them, politely of course. He’s a tad flirtatious with women his own age, but is forever faithful to his wife, and simply sees the flirting as a silly way to enjoy a non-serious conversation. He refuses to judge based upon appearances or bad stigmas against one simply for being born, as he sees it as letting the actions of the dead and gone, to dictate who the future generations could possibly be. (He loves children, but this is because he has two of his own that stay with their mother at home. And will often come to the aid of children that he doesn’t even know, or doesn’t know well, for the sake of protecting children, as he would want anyone else that is a parent or guardian, to do the same for his own children. Otherwise, strike up a bargain with him and he’ll do everything in his power to help and make sure you both walk away happy from the deal!)

#Sorry it's so long #Mun ramblings #Got bored and made this #Feel free to send starters if you feel interested in one of them #OOC #Rp Starter?

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aion-rsa · 4 years

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Top New Fantasy Books July 2020

The Book of Dragons: An Anthology by Jonathan Strahan

Type: Anthology Publisher: Harper Voyager Release date: July 7

Den of Geek says: I’m always looking for a good book about dragons, and this incredible list of authors promises adventurous and unique stories. Anne Leckie, Zen Cho, Seanan Maguire, J.Y. Yang, Patricia A McKillip, Brooke Bolander … it’s an astounding, literary-flavored list of people qualified to write cool creatures.

Publisher’s summary: Here there be dragons . . .

From China to Europe, Africa to North America, dragons have long captured our imagination in myth and legend. Whether they are rampaging beasts awaiting a brave hero to slay or benevolent sages who have much to teach humanity, dragons are intrinsically connected to stories of creation, adventure, and struggle beloved for generations.

Bringing together nearly thirty stories and poems from some of the greatest science fiction and fantasy writers working today— Garth Nix, Scott Lynch, R.F. Kuang, Ann Leckie & Rachel Swirsky, Daniel Abraham, Peter S. Beagle, Beth Cato, Zen Cho, C. S. E Cooney, Aliette de Bodard, Amal El-Mohtar, Kate Elliott, Theodora Goss, Ellen Klages, Ken Liu, Seanan Maguire, Patricia A McKillip, K. J. Parker, Kelly Robson, Michael Swanwick, Jo Walton, Elle Katharine White, Jane Yolen, Kelly Barnhill, Brooke Bolander, Sarah Gailey, and J. Y. Yang—and illustrated by award-nominated artist Rovina Cai with black-and-white line drawings specific to each entry throughout, this extraordinary collection vividly breathes fire and life into one of our most captivating and feared magical creatures as never before and is sure to become a treasured keepsake for fans of fantasy, science fiction, and fairy tales.

Buy The Book of Dragons by Jonathan Strahan on Amazon

Or What You Will by Joe Walton

Type: Novel Publisher: Tor Books Release date: July 7

Den of Geek says: Jo Walton is a writer’s writer, highly praised but still generally skating under the radar. I found her 2014 My Real Children to not nearly live up to its very high concept, but she’s one of those authors with technical prowess who is at least worth checking out for context for women’s science fiction. The metafiction plot sounds fun.

Publisher’s summary: He has been too many things to count. He has been a dragon with a boy on his back. He has been a scholar, a warrior, a lover, and a thief. He has been dream and dreamer. He has been a god.

But “he” is in fact nothing more than a spark of idea, a character in the mind of Sylvia Harrison, 73, award-winning author of thirty novels over forty years. He has played a part in most of those novels, and in the recesses of her mind, Sylvia has conversed with him for years.

But Sylvia won’t live forever, any more than any human does. And he’s trapped inside her cave of bone, her hollow of skull. When she dies, so will he.

Now Sylvia is starting a new novel, a fantasy for adult readers, set in Thalia, the Florence-resembling imaginary city that was the setting for a successful YA trilogy she published decades before. Of course he’s got a part in it. But he also has a notion. He thinks he knows how he and Sylvia can step off the wheel of mortality altogether. All he has to do is convince her.

Buy Or What You Will by Jo Walton on Amazon

The Adventure Zone: Petals to the Metal

Type: Graphic Novel Publisher: First Second Release date: July 14

Den of Geek says: The Adventure Zone is a wildly popular humorous fantasy podcast. It’s part of the big 2010s wave of Dungeons & Dragons coming back into the geek space. Especially for someone who might not want to listen to hundreds of episodes of a podcast, the illustrated version does a good job of smoothing out the story into a graphic novel format without removing the goofy chaos of the original podcast.

Publisher’s summary: START YOUR ENGINES, friends, Clint McElroy and sons Griffin, Justin, and Travis hit the road again with Taako, Magnus and Merle, the beloved agents of chaos from the #1 New York Times bestselling graphic novels illustrated by Carey Pietsch, The Adventure Zone: Here There Be Gerblins and The Adventure Zone: Murder on the Rockport Limited.

Our boys have gone full-time at the Bureau of Balance, and their next assignment is a real thorny one: apprehending The Raven, a master thief who’s tapped into the power of a Grand Relic to ransack the city of Goldcliff. Local life-saver Lieutenant Hurley pulls them out of the woods, only to throw them headlong into the world of battle wagon racing, Goldcliff’s favorite high-stakes low-legality sport and The Raven’s chosen battlefield. Will the boys and Hurley be able to reclaim the Relic and pull The Raven back from the brink, or will they get lost in the weeds?

Based on the beloved blockbuster podcast where three brothers and their dad play a tabletop RPG in real time, The Adventure Zone: Petals to the Metal has it all: blossoming new friendships, pining for outlaw lovers, and a rollicking race you can root for!

Buy The Adventure Zone: Petals to the Metal

The post Top New Fantasy Books in August 2020 appeared first on Den of Geek.

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rosy-night-sky · 5 years

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Of Treasure and Adventure

Genre: Treasure Hunter/Indiana Jones AU

Pairing: Ot7 x reader

Summary: Your grandmother gave you a gift that she won in a game, so naturally you are curious as to the origins of it. A decision was then made that you should seek the answers to your questions. However, you never expected your decision to lead you on a treasure hunting quest.

Tag List: @sevenincubistolemyheart @xxqueenwxtchxx @technicolor-blues @taevkimchi @youcantbesiriusremus @vannilacake

Chapter 5

As you walked along the forested path for what seemed to be ages, you noticed out of the corner of your eye how cheerful Namjoon was acting. He had a slight skip in his walk, a small smile graced his lips, and you were fairly sure that he was quietly humming to himself. Seeing the archeologist so happy made you feel warm inside. You also felt a lighthearted smile tug at the corner of your lips.

“Someone’s happy,” you commented, feeling the words fall from your lips unconsciously.

Namjoon snapped from his thoughts and turned to you, bewilderment flooding his features as if he was unsure if you were speaking to him. Once he realized that you, in fact, were, he cleared his throat and replied, “Well, who wouldn’t be? I’ve spent years researching the possible locations. And now to be actually so close to actually touching it?” He shook his head in disbelief. “It’s a dream come true.”

Your eyebrows shot up in shock. “Wait, you spent years racking your brain over this artifact?” you repeated aghast. Wow, if that wasn’t determination, then you didn’t know what was.

Namjoon nodded in confirmation, smiling at your surprised state. “Yep, Jin and I spent two years gathering as much information as we could. We were actually almost ready to give up, since we hit so many dead ends.” He then looked at you with a soft smile, as if you were a long lost friend who appeared to him after years. “And then you came along with the answers. Jin and I were ecstatic when you came into contact with me explaining about your tapestry.” His smile widened, looking off as if recalling a fond memory. “You were like an angel coming to answer our prayers.”

Your lips stretched out into a broad smile hearing Namjoon, but it soon fell apart when he called you an angel. Did he just say what you thought he just said? Your eyes widened in astonishment. His last sentence repeated over and over again in your mind, but you couldn’t seem to wrap your head around it. That was certainly a massive compliment from him. An angel? If you couldn’t remember the last time anyone called you ‘cute’, then you certainly couldn’t remember the last time anyone called you an angel.

You knew such a compliment would result in you getting flustered. Sure enough, butterflies fluttered around in your stomach, giving you the queasy feeling of anxiety. However, you decided to remain strong in this situation. No, you weren’t going to get muddled up. You already dealt with that far too many times already on this trip; you absolutely refused to allow it again.

“Awww! Namjoon just called y/n an angel!” Taehyung announced to the rest of the team, causing you to get even more embarrassed. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders playfully, making it extremely hard for you to continue hiking what with dragging him behind.

Your stoic willpower to remain strong began to slightly crumble when you saw all the eyes of the other members land on you. “Taehyung!” you cried out, already hearing the snickering from the others. “Don’t tell them that!” Oh no, this certainly wasn’t going to end well for you...

Jin, who was hiking in front of you, suddenly turned around to face you and Namjoon while walking backwards to keep up with everyone’s pace. “Wow, way to sound cheesy, Namjoon,” he commented, grinning cheekily.

Namjoon huffed in reply. “Cheesy? That’s rich coming from you. You would’ve said some lousy pun,” he snarked, arching an eyebrow.

Jin’s audacious grin slowly slipped from his lips, and a pouty frown replaced it. He folded his arms grumpily, reminding you of a sulking child. “Excuse you, don’t be rude. My jokes are hilarious...” he muttered, deep in thought. Suddenly, as if revelation dawned upon him, he turned his gaze back to you and Namjoon. “Here, I’ll prove it.” He brought back his brazen grin, ready to amaze you with the best joke he had in his utility. However, uneasiness fluttered around in your stomach, not prepared for what was to come. “Two men were talking about their wives. The first man says ‘My wife is an angel.’ The second man says “You’re lucky, mine’s still alive.’” He then burst into his famous seal-like laughter, wheezing and crying with a broad smile on his face. You laughed along, of course, if only to appease him. The others burst into laughter, each of each slapping each other on the shoulders while they cackled, but it was not because of Jin’s joke.

No, they laughed uncontrollably because of your expression. Your face held an expression of what any sane person would put on when someone told a rather horrendous joke. You laughed, but it was a nervous laugh that escaped your lips. Your eyebrows deeply creased with worry while you glanced around, wondering if anyone actually thought this was funny.

Luckily for you, Jin took everyone’s wheezing as a sign that his joke was indeed hilarious and beamed proudly for proving Namjoon wrong. It was definitely for the best that no one said anything about the truth, not unless you all wanted your ears to be ranted off by the mother hen himself.

However, you didn’t realize that one person didn’t join in the merrymaking. “Jin... that was a shitty joke,” Yoongi declared seething. You could’ve sworn you saw steam puffing out of Yoongi’s ears. Praying to the Lord that this wouldn’t result in Jin getting his ears boxed by the mechanic, you watched Jin cautiously, ready to alert Hoseok if it came to the worst.

“Yoongi... you wound me... how could you say that to me?”

“I just did.”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t have to be so blunt about it!”

“Hey, guys,” Jungkook announced to get everyone’s attention, “what’s that?” He lifted his finger and pointed straight ahead, eyes widened slightly with an expression washed over his faces as if he had seen a ghost.

You all turned ahead to see what had Jungkook so spooked. A few meters ahead of the group to see a rather wide river surrounded by a thick barrier of low hanging trees with vines wrapped firmly around its branches. The water was a murky brown, most likely due to the mud and dirt being mixed together. The waves moved rapidly downstream, taking anything swept in its currents down the river, forever trapped in the ever churning waves.

You glanced back at Jungkook, eyebrows arched in confusion. “Jungkook, sweetie,” you began almost exasperatedly, “I don’t know if you have these back in your homeland, but they’re called rivers.”

The young man sighed annoyedly, rolling his eyes so hard they almost rolled to the back of his skull. He threw his hands at his side irritatedly before throwing them out in a gesture toward the fast moving river. “Yeah, no shit, y/n!” he exclaimed. “Look harder!”

You rolled your eyes and turned your gaze back. Your eyes scanned over the raging waters over and over again, finding nothing out of the ordinary except for a few pieces of trash floating by every now and then. You quirked up your eyebrow at this realization. You squinted harder to heighten your vision. Those... those didn’t look like pieces of trash now that you’ve taken a closer look at it.

You took a few steps further, trying to get a better look at what exactly you were looking at. The pieces of trash would bob up and down the water and even move back up stream. That’s... odd... The trash swam around way in a lively manner, and it had... leathery skin...?

Your heart dropped to your stomach and all the air in your lungs instantly disappeared. Your eyes widened so large that they looked like they were bulging out of your sockets. Your jaw dropped like a sudden anchor was attached to it. You couldn’t believe what laid in front of you.

The waters weren’t raging because of the rapid current like you so thought. It was because of the extensive amount of wild crocodiles that were thrashing about. In fact, now that you put two and two together, you noticed how they were stacked on top of each other, each trying to get a comfortable spot in the river. Just how many were there?

“What the...” you mumbled, feeling your soul slowly slip from your mortal shell.

“Oh... my God...” Hoseok gasped with wide eyes, clinging to his medical bag as if his life depended on it.

“Crocodiles!” Jimin exclaimed ecstatically, bouncing in his spot like a little child on Christmas. You all jerked your heads toward the survivalist with shocked expressions, each of you silently wondering if Jimin finally lost it.

“Why the hell are you so excited?” Yoongi demanded, ready to just call it quits and abandon everyone. “Maybe we should throw you in first and see if you’re still excited then?”

Jimin sighed in an irked manner, eyes rolling as if he was so close to almost smacking the mechanic. He turned to Yoongi with crossed arms and a hip jutted out almost comically. “I know this isn’t good for us, but do you know how low the crocodile population has gotten ever since the British took over India? A lot! So I’m just glad to see so many of them here, because that means they’re making a comeback.”

“Wow, Jimin,” Jungkook began, edging away from the river slowly. “I didn’t know you were such an environmentalist.”

Jimin shrugged his shoulders indifferently. “It comes with the job. Learning survival techniques makes you appreciate the wildlife.” He then turned on his heel back toward the river, fingers tapping against his chin. He hummed to himself in deep thought. “Now then, I wonder if those branches are strong enough to support us...”

“You know...” Taehyung popped into the conversation with an innocent smile gracing his face. “I know of a way that can easily get rid of the crocodiles.” He then innocuously lifted up a grenade slowly into everyone’s view, wiggling his eyebrows to insinuate the plan he had in mind.

When Jimin’s eyes landed on the grenade, his jaw dropped offendedly as if Taehyung suggested something very inappropriate. “No! We’re not going to kill them!” He jerked his hand as if he was going to smack the explosive out of Taehyung’s hand but then remembered what exactly it was and quickly retracted his action. He then pointed up to the trees that hung over the river. “I bet we can just cross over by using the branches. They look strong enough to hold us.”

“Or maybe...” Namjoon suggested, his tone light as if he were a teacher ready to explain something to a child. “We could just swim over if we head upstream.”

Jimin looked upstream, taking in the rapid moving waves, and shook his head. “No, the current is too strong. If we somehow manage to avoid bashing our heads into the rocks, then we’ll just end up becoming crocodile food for them.” He readjusted his pack on his back. “Come on! It’ll be easy! I promise you.”

All the color drained from Jin’s face as he slowly backed away, his legs shaking as if they had suddenly become jelly. “Uh, I-I don’t know if I can do t-this,” he stammered nervously, hands pressed against his own chest in a frightened manner.

Hoseok looked as if he was ready to book it in the other direction, his face morphed into that of absolute terror. “Is there really no other way to cross?” He figetted his hands around his medical bag. “Couldn’t we just... go around?”

Jimin beamed as he began to move closer toward the river. He really looked giddy even though he was meters away from becoming someone’s lunch. “Nope! This river keeps going down this direction for another two kilometers, according to the map.”

Yoongi shook his head in disbelief, looking at Jimin as if the survivalist lost his mind. “You probably get off from being in dangerous situations, don’t you?” he asked, moving around as if he was unsure if he should follow Jimin or just leave. “You’re like one of those... what do you call them?”

“Daredevils? Thrill-seekers? Adrenaline junkies?” Namjoon suggested, following after Jimin.

Yoongi shrugged. “One of those.”

Jimin threw his large pack off his shoulders onto the ground, the containments inside rattling against one another. He opened his pack and began to rummage around in it, looking intensely for what the situation needed. “Okay, before we start crossing, we should probably make an order of who’s crossing over. Of course, I have to go last to make sure everyone crosses safely.” With a happy smile, he pulled out a thick corded, grappling rope. He then stood up with a bounce. “So, who wants to go first?”

Not a single noise came from the rest of the team. Each of the members, you included, awkwardly gave each other shared looks, hoping that someone would gladly volunteer to go first. You thought that it was for the best that Namjoon went first, seeing how he weighed the most out of the whole team. If he went first and the branches managed to hold him, then the rest of the group had nothing to fear.

You hoped.

After a few seconds of silence, Taehyung suggested that a game of rock, paper, scissors would be a fair way to decide what the order should be. You all agreed and stood around in a circle, sweat dripping down your foreheads and bodies shaking with fear of having to go first. This felt like you were choosing someone to die, which was kinda the case. You squeezed your eyes shut, not ready to face your possible end.

“One... two... three!”

Your slowly opened your eyes after a moment, looking down at your hand. You compared your hand to everyone else’s and sighed a big breath of relief. You were safe, you don’t have to go first. You could go down on your knees and thank the Lord for saving you from such a life-threatening situation. However, you realized that since you were safe, someone else was doomed.

Your eyes landed on the poor, unfortunate soul who lost the game, and your gaze connected with two, brown, round, innocent-looking eyes. Jungkook.

Your heart clenched seeing the poor boy having to accept his fate. He looked like someone who was forced to watch someone put down his puppy. His gaze jerked around frantically, seeking for anyone else’s hand to see if they had even worse luck than he but to no avail. “Oh... fuck...” he breathed out, his eyes widening.

The rest of the life deciding game went on, although some tears were shed. Jin had to go second, Hoseok third, Namjoon fourth, Yoongi fifth, Taehyung sixth, and you seventh, leaving Jimin, of course, last. You knew deep down that this wasn’t going to go well.

You all climbed up the tree after Jimin climbed up during the death game, Yoongi needing a boost from Taehyung in order to reach the first branch. This whole experience reminded you of climbing the trees in your grandmother’s backyard whenever you visited her in the countryside. You mentally thanked your childhood self for becoming so proficient at climbing trees, otherwise you’d be in Yoongi’s position.

Once you and the rest of the tree climbed onto the wide tree branch that Jimin stood on, scanning the area in front of him, you and the boys were lined up in the order you all agreed on. You saw that the branch you were on had a gap in between the next branch. Jimin was at the front, swinging the rope at his side in circles, searching for a higher tree branch to grapple to. Once he found an acceptable branch, he swung the rope high up, fastening it tightly to a strong looking branch. He pulled down the rope a few times, making sure the hooked end was securely embedded into the wood.

Seeing how secure it was, he smiled brightly to Jungkook, who looked like he was about to vomit, and handed him the rope. “Alright, Kookie, you first!”

Jungkook slowly took ahold of the rope, his knuckles tightening around it so hard they turned white. He inhaled deeply through his nose and exhaled through his mouth, trying to quell his nerves. He quickly readjusted his pack so that it was fastened more firmly to his body. Then he grabbed ahold of the rope again and took a deep breath.

Closing his eyes, he gracefully leapt off the branch.

You and the other boys shrieked seeing the youngest jump off to his possible doom. The rope strained under the immense weight as you watched with a hand hovering over your mouth. You feared that the rope would snap, causing Jungkook to be mercilessly eaten by a horde of crocodiles. Time slowed around you as your eyes followed Jungkook’s form swing precariously above death.

And then, it was over. Jungkook landed perfectly on the next branch as if nothing happened. He took a few seconds to recompose himself and boldly flashed you and the other boys a wide grin. “That wasn’t so bad!” he commented, chuckling at how nervous he was minutes earlier.

You and the team, excluding Jimin, released a sigh of relief that was trapped inside each of you. You knew that could’ve ended a whole lot worse than it did. Your nerves slightly ebbed away seeing that you weren’t going to jump to your end in the near future. However, that small voice in the back of your mind whispered the possibility of you dying in the most painful manner. You shuddered visibly, trying your very best to cram that thought to the darkest recesses of your mind.

Everything seemed fine at the very moment, until you remembered who was next in the order the team established. Jin. Uncertainty fogged your mind as you tried to recall if Jin had ever experienced a journey quite like this before. If he hadn’t, well, there’s a first for everything, you supposed.

Jungkook confidently tossed the corded rope over the gap to Jimin, who handed it to a terror stricken Jin. Pity flooded over you as you noticed how hard he was shaking and how ragged his breathing was. He gripped the rope tightly into his fists, staring at it with anxious eyes. “Do I have to...?” he quietly murmured.

Jimin nodded. “How else are you going to get across?”

The millionaire shrugged, visibly looking sick. “I... don’t need to.”

“It’s not that bad, hyung!” Jungkook called from the other side, hands cupping around his mouth to direct his shouting. “It’ll be over before you know it!”

Jin released a shaky breath and nodded his head slowly. He raised his head up, trying to avoid looking downward, and took a step off the branch, letting the rope swing him over. You heard the rope strain precariously as it took Jin’s weight. You worried your lip, hoping that he would make it over. He let out a loud scream as the wind ruffled through his dark locks, clinging to the rope as if his life depended on it, eyes slammed shut in terror.

Jungkook leaned out and grabbed the rope and Jin, laughing at Jin’s frightened demeanor. “I got you, hyung.”

Once Jungkook helped Jin, who clung to his limbs like a monkey, he tossed the rope back to Jimin. You then realized, Hoseok was next. If anything looked more pale and sick than Jin, it was the doctor, ironically. Jimin tapped him on the shoulder to snap him from his daze, causing him to flinch in a frightened manner.

“Come on, doc,” Yoongi encouraged softly. “You got this.”

Hoseok slowly turned to the mechanic, a flash of panic in his eyes. “Do I?”

Yoongi nodded confidently, digging his hands in his pockets. “I have total and utter faith that you’ll make it over. Now hurry up before I push you off this branch.”

Hoseok nodded in reply before turning back to the gap, releasing a shaky sigh as he grabbed the rope. He mumbled a few reassuring words to himself as he secured his medical bag in his hand as he gripped the rope. Taking one final inhale, he lept off.

That had to be the loudest scream you have ever heard in your entire life.

Hoseok’s screech echoed throughout the Indian forest, and you saw a flock of birds take flight from their resting place in a tree a few meters away. If anyone, and you wouldn’t be surprised if they could, heard the scream that emitted from Hoseok’s throat, they would think he was in the process of being murdered.

He swung across the gap slowly, and Jungkook leaned out once more to grab ahold of the rope to secure the doctor...

...but he missed...

You watched in terror as Hoseok paused his screaming kid swing only to see Jungkook miss and dreadfully swing back toward the rest of the team. You noticed the look in the doctor’s eyes as if he had been betrayed when he saw that Jungkook couldn’t reach him. He resumed his loud screeching, now hanging onto the rope for dead life.

“Jump off! Just jump off when you swing back!” you and the other boys yelled, hoping that your shouts could be heard over his shrieking.

“I CAN’T!!!”

For a few more seconds, you watched with wide eyes as Hoseok continued to swing back and forth. Yoongi groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose in ultimate agony as he looked at the disaster before him.

Jungkook in a panic told Jin to hold his arm in order to ground him as he leaned very dangerously over the edge of the branch to reach out to Hoseok. Jin protested loudly over the doctor’s screaming as he dug his heels into the bark, struggling to keep both him and Jungkook from tipping over and into the river.

Once Hoseok swung back to Jungkook, he grabbed onto the corded rope, causing Jin to slide forward a few centimeters. You gasped in horror, believing for a moment that you were about to see them tumble down to the crocodiles below. However, you and the others sighed in relief upon seeing Jungkook pull Hoseok to safety. You were going to get a cardiac arrest from this trip, you were certain about that.

Namjoon’s trip over went far more smoothly than Hoseok’s did, probably because he knew exactly what to avoid after watching the disaster previous to his. The only thing that happened that made your blood run cold was the fact that Namjoon slipped on the branch right before he jumped, causing him to spiral over in circles, twisting the rope a few times. Namjoon released a few sharp curses from his lips as he spun over, but Jungkook luckily grabbed him before anything worse could happen.

Besides Jungkook’s trip, you deemed Yoongi’s jump as the most easy going. You noticed the tired expression that wore down his soft features, probably from watching the catastrophes before him. You couldn’t blame him, exhaustion flooded your body from constantly worrying over the other boys.

Yoongi simply grabbed the rope and jumped off the branch, as if he couldn’t seem to give a single care about his possible death. Maybe he wanted to die? Maybe he just wanted to end his suffering? Again, you couldn’t blame him.

Although, your heart clenched tightly as you saw how Yoongi held onto the the rope in a fetal position, his legs wrapped around the rope tightly. It was rather adorable to see his face scrunch up as he slowly swung over.

“Y/n,” Taehyung suddenly spoke up, fear slightly enlaced in his tone. “Could you give me a hug?” He turned his head around and gave you the most adorable puppy eyes. Your breathing stifled as your heart clenched again. Damnit, why was he so cute?

“Why?” you asked, hoping your feelings wouldn’t affect your tone.

He paused for a few moments, as if contemplating his answer in his head. “I’m...” He paused, biting down on his lip nervously. “I’m scared of heights...”

You widened your eyes, not out of fear but rather surprise. Your eyebrows shot up. You certainly weren’t expecting that from him. “Really?”

He nodded slowly. “Y-yeah, can I please have a hug? It’ll calm me down a little bit,” he begged, ignoring the quiet urging of Jimin.

Of course, you knew you couldn’t possibly decline his wishes. You weren’t a heartless, cold bastard. You wrapped your arms around Taehyung’s shoulders as he tightly hugged your form, as if this was the last hug he was ever going to receive. You quickly noted how safe and warm you felt in his arms. You had to admit, he was an excellent hugger. “It’ll be fine,” you whispered gently. “Just... don’t look down.”

“Okay,” he breathed, finally releasing, although reluctantly you noticed, you from his arms.

“Hey!” Yoongi called out with an offended expression. “Why do you get a hug?” He folded his arms across his chest. You would say he was slightly pissed off, but you couldn’t get over the fact that he looked absolutely endearing despite the fact that he was annoyed.

“Because I’m scared, that’s why!” Taehyung yelled back in his defense, grabbing onto the rope with a determined force.

“Oh, and you thought I wasn’t!” Jin shouted back, swinging his head from side to side as he yelled.

Taehyung ignored his reply and jumped off with such a confidence you couldn’t believe that he was trembling just seconds prior. Was it everyone’s biting comments that gave him that sudden bravery, or did your soothing words and comforting hug actually calm him down? Either way, you watched in shock as he swung over without a hitch. He reminded you of those heroes in the books you’ve been reading lately with his strong-willed grandeur. Bloody hell, he didn’t even need Jungkook to reel him in!

You would have clapped and cheered for the demolition expert, but then you realized you were next. Dread washed over you as your heart sunk to your stomach. Oh dear Lord, why did that gaggy feeling suddenly appear in your throat? The tree branch slightly swayed from side to side, but you were uncertain if it was because of a breeze or that unexpected feeling of heaviness that invaded your head. You silently prayed that you weren’t about to keel over and vomit into the river. That would be embarrassing after everything that occurred.

Jimin noticed your nauseous expression and curled the corners of his lips into a smile. He held the rope out to you expectedly, and you hesitantly wrapped your fingers around the braided cord. You swallowed a rather large lump in your throat as sweat dropped down your neck and back, unsure if it was because of the humid weather or your nerves getting the better of you.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be over before you know it,” Jimin softly soothed, his murmurs only loud enough for you to hear.

“I know, I know,” you sighed, your eyes never wavering from the rope clutched in your hands. Your forehead slowly pressed against the corded material as another bout of nausea washed over you. “Bollocks, I just got really dizzy.”

You sensed that Jimin grew more concerned over your wellbeing. He reached out and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. “Do you need me to carry you over?” he questioned, moving his head so his eyes could meet yours.

You shook your head. You could do this. You just needed to follow your own advice you gave Taehyung and avoid looking down. “No, I got this.” You swallowed another lump that stung your throat.

You didn’t give yourself time to prepare yourself from the jump. You knew that if you tried to hype yourself up, you would stall yourself even longer. You knew you just had to do it. Your feet left the solid tree branch and leapt off into the air. The wind ran through you hair as you released a small, soft gasp. Your hands tightened their grip around the rope, hearing the tension in it grow under your weight. You breezed through the air with ease, and you almost thought for a moment that you were flying.

You saw yourself coming closer to the boys on the other side of the gap, each of them waiting on edge for you to arrive safely to them. Jungkook reached out to you and managed to grab ahold of you. Your nerves instantly quelled when you realized you made it over safely. Never again did you ever want to do something like that. You didn’t think that your poor heart and stomach could handle something as nerve-wracking as that.

The other members of the team instantly embraced you in their arms, extremely thankful that you managed to get through unscathed. The warmth that emitted from them comforted you after going through such a horrible experience. You cherished the feeling of being in their arms for a moment before you laughed, “For a moment, I thought I was going to puke.”

Hoseok’s eyebrows shot up in deep concern. “Oh, do you need some medicine?” He then brought his medical bag securely wrapped on one shoulder and resting at his hip, rummaging through it with the sounds of glass clicking against each other. “I’ve got ginger, peppermint-“

“I’m fine, Hobi,” you reassured him, pulling away from the others to pat him on the shoulder comfortingly. “Did you already take some? I thought you were going to pass out after your trip over.”

Hoseok shuffled awkwardly in his spot on the branch, his hands sheepishly closing his bag. “I already popped a piece of peppermint in my mouth to suck on,” he admitted, his cheeks slightly flushed in embarrassment. “That was the worst thing I ever had to do.”

Jungkook scoffed as he tossed the rope back to Jimin. “It wasn’t that bad. If you just jumped like we all told you to do, then you wouldn’t have swung there for God knows how long,” he teased, a bold grin spreading on his lips.

Hoseok huffed, slightly annoyed. He tightened the strap on his medical bag unconsciously, as if it was a habit of his. “If you just grabbed the rope when I got over, then I wouldn’t need to jump!” he argued, folding his arms.

Jungkook merely shrugged his shoulders indifferently. His cheeky grin remained plastered on his smug face. “Don’t blame me. You didn’t swing far enough for me to grab you the first time. I risk my life big time just trying to grab you at the end!” he mentioned.

“You risked my life, too!” Jin shouted, wobbling around Namjoon on the narrow branch just to jab his finger against the younger man’s chest. “I almost slipped off the branch, for God’s sake! We both could’ve been crocodile food!”

Jungkook lifted a finger in front of Jin’s face. “But we didn’t. I have total and utmost faith that you would keep us alive, hyung, because that’s just how good you are.”

in bristled, anger emitting from him in waves. “Oh, don’t you try to smooth talk your way out of this! You barely gave me any time to get ready! Do you have any idea how close I was to the edge of the branch?! Any closer and-“

“Guys!” Jimin called over, interrupting Jin’s furious ranting. He leaned against the rope irritatedly, impatient with the argument that occurring in front of him. “I would like it if Jungkook wasn’t distracted so he can catch me when I swing over!”

Wanting everyone to get across as soon as possible, you agreed with Jimin’s statement. The most crucial member of the team currently needed to get across safely. The team couldn’t get snappy with each other at the moment. “Yeah, let’s talk about how horrible Hobi’s trip over was for all of us after we all get over the river of death.” You now scooted over so that you were sandwiched in between the oldest and youngest, giving some space between them.

Jungkook and Jin gave each other a final shared glance before the younger man turned back to Jimin, positioning himself so that he was ready to receive the survivalist. He held his arms out in a catching stance, waving his hands toward himself in a gesture meaning he was ready for Jimin to cross over.

Jimin wasted no time and lept from the branch with such a confident smile that it took you off guard for a mere moment. You supposed that since Jimin underwent immense training to earn the title “survivalist” he must be very confident in his skills in ordeals such as these.

He smiled the entire time he swung over and landed perfectly on the branch you stood on with the help of Jungkook grabbing his rope to secure him. His eyes locked with yours first and his smile curled up almost wickedly. He smirked and tap the underside of your chin upwards, surprising you in the meanwhile.

“Close your mouth, y/n. You might catch a fly. After all, India is most notorious for having some of the most poisonous insects in the world,” he informed, giving you a look as if he knew how starstruck you were because of him before moving around you.

You instantly clamped your mouth shut. You weren’t even aware that your mouth hung open. Were you that impressed with Jimin that you were left dumbfounded? As he brushed past, you noticed how close he pressed against you, so close, in fact, that his chest flushed against your own. You were fairly certain that he had enough room to move around without getting so close, but the words seemed to fail you as you stood frozen in your spot. During your flabbergasted state, you failed to spot the teasing glance Jimin gave you as he slid by.

Jungkook detached the rope from where Jimin fastened it and tossed it back to its owner. Jimin moved to the front of the group, calling out, “Alright everyone, let’s get moving!”

You all followed Jimin by climbing down the tree and, although you tried your very hardest, you failed to keep in your laughter when you saw Hoseok carefully and timidly climb down. He made various frightened noises whenever he accidentally misplaced his footing and almost slipped or if he looked down and noticed how large a distance it was to the ground.

“Geez, why did we even bring you along if you can’t even climb down a tree without screaming?” Yoongi commented at the bottom, watching the doctor take his final steps before reaching the ground. He then strode over to Hoseok and readjusted some of his clothing that had become disheveled during the climb, brushing off bark pieces and dirt that clung to him.

“Because you wanted me to come along,” Hoseok answered confidently, laughing when he noticed the mild frustrated look on Yoongi’s face when he realized he couldn’t refute that.

You helped Taehyung reach the bottom before you joined the others, who were gaining as much distance from the crocodile infested river as they possible could. After a few minutes of light jogging, you didn’t notice just how far away the team had gotten from the river until you looked back and couldn’t see it through the thick trees.

Once you Jimin assured the team that it was safe to resume walking, you all calmed down a bit and tramped through the long grass and plants. The path began to incline suddenly and soon you trudged up a rocky slope, your feet knocking various stones and pebbles down the hill.

You fanned yourself when sweat began to build on your brow. The temperature surely raised quite a few degrees since the team first embarked on the journey. The sticky air clung to your skin like tape would, and you felt suffocated by it. The wind died long ago, so that added to your sweltering agony.

What also didn’t help the situation was the amount of bugs that swarmed the team. Flies endlessly flew around your head and buzzed in your ear. No matter how hard you swatted and threw you hands around, the flies never left you. Poor Jin screamed a few times when a few insects dove at his head.

“Jin!” you cried out, feeling the heavy weight of exhaustion build upon your shoulders. “How long have we been bloody hiking?”

Jin, quite a ways ahead of you, turned his head to face you as he continued walking. “Since we’ve started? About...” His tired voice trailed off as he brought up his wrist to look at his wristwatch. “... Five and a half hours.”

You sputtered at this knowledge. Five and a half hours?! When was the last time you ate? You were so tired your body couldn’t even transcribe that you needed sustenance. Your heavy feet dragged along as you stumbled up the path.

You didn’t sign up for this, you repeated in your head. You didn’t sign up for this.

“Alright, everyone!” Jimin exclaimed, gathering everyone’s attention. “The path is getting narrower the farther we head up and the ground is more unstable! We need to tie our ropes to each other’s belts so we don’t accidentally lose a member!”

As you fumbled to get your rope unfastened from your belt, you looked around to see who you were going to have to attach yourself to. Your eyes quickly landed upon Jungkook and Yoongi, who were at your side and both as equally sweaty as you were.

“I hate this. I hate this so much,” Yoongi muttered to himself as he tied his rope into one of your belt loops, pausing for a few moments to wipe the sweat from his brow.

Your shoulders sagged in exhaustion. “You and me both, mate,” you breathed out, finally getting your rope unattached from your belt so you could connect it between Jungkook and you.

He double-knotted then triple-knotted his rope before he was satisfied. “I just want to go to bed and sleep to my heart’s content and then maybe eat a few lobsters before I go back into hibernation,” he complained, staggering back a few paces.

“Lobster...” Jin whined, closing his eyes as if he could imagine the delicious taste. “Don’t say that. You’re making me hungry.”

You nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I think I just drooled for a second,” you chuckled weakly as you tied your rope to your own belt loop then went over and tied yourself to Jungkook. “You’re probably loving all of this exercise, aren’t you?”

Jungkook panted for a few seconds, lifting his sweaty shirt so you had better access to his belt. Your eyes landed on the toned abs that peeked out from underneath his shirt. You quickly looked away, trying to stop yourself from staring and getting flustered.

“I enjoy a morning jog, of course, but this is a little ridiculous,” he admitted, looking up at the sky as sweat ran down his face. His eyes fluttered shut for a few moments. “It’s so hot...”

You quickly finished tying and stood at full height when he said that. The tone he used shot something through your veins, making you feel something you never felt before. “A cold bath sounds amazing right now,” you added, trying to cover up your awkward state.

Jungkook pulled down his shirt and smiled. “Yeah, maybe we could find a pool around here and take a quick swim,” he suggested.

You chuckled at his proposal. You wished there was a pond, but after seeing that river full of crocodiles, your mind started having second thoughts. “I didn’t pack a swimsuit,” you confessed jokingly, already resuming your trek along the thin trail.

Jungkook shrugged his shoulders indifferently. “Neither did I. We could always go naked,” he prompted, following after you.

You sputtered again, your eyes slightly widening. Naked? With him? He wasn’t serious, was he? As you stared at him for a few seconds, you soon understood that he was, indeed, one hundred percent serious. Your thoughts in a panic fumbled together with thousands of different ways to reply to what he said. However, your words unfortunately seemed to fail you as you continued to stammer and sputter before giving up altogether and turning your head back forward, biting the inside of your cheek in embarrassment.

Your eyes connected with Yoongi’s, who was grinning at you boldly. He didn’t hear the conversation you and Jungkook shared, did he? As his head turned back forward and you heard him inhale deeply as if he were about to say something to everyone, dread coursed throughout every fiber of your being.

He heard you...

“Guys! Jungkook got y/n embarrassed!” he announced cheekily. Everyone’s heads snapped to face you, each of them with a teasing grin painted on their lips. Oh no... not again.

You needed to defend yourself you soon realized where this was all going. “I am not!” you shrieked, willing yourself to be rid of your flustered state. “He just... caught me off guard is what.”

Yoongi tipped his head to the side in fake confusion, mischief twinkling in his eyes. “Really? So Jungkook suggesting that you two go swimming in the nude doesn’t get you all shy?” Oh how you wanted to strangle him at that moment.

A chorus of chuckles rang among the crowd as your cheeks flared with heat. You wanted to calm down and prove them wrong, but the mental image of seeing Jungkook swimming with nothing on only succeeded in making you cast your gaze down to the forest floor sheepishly. “No, it doesn’t!” you protested still, despite everything proving otherwise.

“Ah, maybe we should all going swimming together in the nude, y/n,” Taehyung encouraged provokingly. “Wouldn’t you like that?” His voice dropped a few octaves, making you shiver slightly.

You bit your lip, wondering to yourself how you could possibly dig out of this hole you seemed trapped in. “Or...” you brought up, cursing yourself internally for sounding so bothered. “We could just forget the whole idea of swimming in the nude and focus on the mission at hand?”

“That doesn’t sound nearly as fun,” Namjoon remarked, rolling back his shoulders in a way so you would obviously note the way his muscles tighten. “Besides, the Dragon of the Stars can wait for us while we... indulge ourselves.”

You ground your teeth in irritation. Your flared cheeks still remained as hot as ever from embarrassment. Namjoon was really starting to test you, wasn’t he? “Namjoon, I’m going to strangle you,” you declared, glaring daggers at his prideful smirk.

“My, y/n, I never knew you liked it rough,” Jin commented, wetting his bottom lip with a playful grin.

Your breath hitched in your throat at that remark. What the bloody hell was that? You jerked your wide eyes to meet his, eyes clouded with an emotion you couldn’t quite describe. After a few seconds of stunned silence, he gave you a flirtatious wink, sending electricity shooting down your spine.

“O-okay, stop it,” you stammered, fidgeting with your sleeve sheepishly as you tore your gaze from his. “You guys are acting like a bunch of immature schoolboys around a playboy magazine.”

Hoseok burst into laughter at your description. “You have to admit you set yourself up for that one. It was too perfect. Your face was too cute!” he cooed, jabbing a finger at your face.

You huffed and crossed your arms across your chest, hoping that way you could hide how perturbed you felt. “I’m glad my embarrassment is a good source of entertainment for you...” Your voice trailed off as you noticed Yoongi ahead of you take a step too close to the edge. The soft dirt began to crumble under his weight slightly and roll down the steep hill that hung off to the side. Your throat hitched realizing that the dirt would give way and Yoongi would slip. You lunged forward with a hand stretching out to the mechanic in a blind panic. “Yoongi, wait-!”

Your warning came too late as the dirt collapsed underneath him. Yoongi’s legs gave out from the unstable foundation he stood upon and tumbled down. His hands grabbed onto your shoulders hoping that you would provide a stable support, but your feet slipped on the soft dirt and you fell down with him. Yoongi let out a loud curse while a scream escaped your lungs.

Your tumble was interrupted due to the rope that connected you to Jungkook and the rope that connected Yoongi to Namjoon. Yoongi and you hung precariously on the steep hill as Jungkook and Namjoon were lurched in your direction. A string of cries and gasps rang throughout the team when they all realized the dangerous situation you both were in. Jungkook and Namjoon luckily dug their heels into the ground to prevent themselves from following you both down the hill.

However, that relief didn’t last long when the rope tying you to Jungkook unknotted from his belt loop. You mentally cursed yourself for your flimsy knotting skills before you shrieked as you slipped down the hill even further, taking Yoongi with you.

The wind was knocked out of you when the rope once more stopped your fall. You looked down the steep hill that went on for a few good meters, surely such a fall would be lethal. You swallowed a lump in your throat. “Oooooh, that’s high!” you cried, grabbing the rope between you and Yoongi and pulling yourself up.

Namjoon released a strain groan as he held the rope connecting him to Yoongi, holding the weight of you two all by himself. He silently prayed that he could pull you both to safety. Jimin rushed to his side and leaned over the edge, looking at you and Yoongi with panicked eyes. “You two okay?!” he demanded.

“Do I look fucking alright?!” Yoongi spat back, clinging to his rope with an iron fist.

“We’re fine!” you answered, ignoring Yoongi’s vulgar reply. “Just get us out of here, please!”

Jimin nodded frantically before turning back to the others, Namjoon most importantly. “Okay, everyone here needs to start walking backwards slowly and hold onto their ropes! Make sure they don’t loosen on your belts!” He then jerked his head back to Yoongi and you. “I’m gonna need you two to put your feet against the ground and start walking up as we pull you up!” He then flew to the back of the line and got himself into position once you and Yoongi did as he told you. “Okay, everyone start walking!”

You dug your heels against the steep hill and pushed yourself upward after Yoongi. Very slowly you both began to trudge up the hill with your hands clamped firmly on the rope that supported your combined weight. Sometimes the dirt gave out underneath your footing, and you slipped causing Yoongi to stumble back, but you luckily managed to resettle yourself before continuing on upward.

“I think we’re going to make it,” Yoongi muttered to you reassuringly.

You pulled yourself up a few more paces, hope filling your core. You could almost sigh to yourself in relief at how much progress you already made. However, your hope was soon short-lived. Yoongi was at the final stretch when a snapping sound caught his attention. His eyes wildly flashed to the source, where the rope between him and Namjoon began to snap and unravel under his weight. He jerked his gaze to Namjoon, who realized the same thing and met his eyes, flaming with shock and panic.

“Of course it starts to break because of you,” Yoongi sneered venomously as his eyes narrowed into a glare. “If I die, fuck you.”

Namjoon frantically pulled on the rope upward repeatedly, hoping he could drag you and Yoongi to safety before the rope snapped. Jimin noticed this quickly and anxiety shot in his core. “Namjoon! Don’t! You’re putting too much tension on the rope-!”

Snap!

The last strings of the rope that also kept your hopes up broke. A gasp left your throat as you felt your body slowly fall backwards, then your body collided against the hillside and everything went by in a flash. Your body tumbled and rolled down the slope, but your mind couldn’t seem to register what what was happening. Your eyes caught images of dirt and the sky repeatedly, but other than that you couldn’t tell where you were as you continue to plummet down the ridge.

Where was Yoongi? Was he by you? Your ears failed to pick up any noises that would reveal his presence over the sound of your body time after time slamming against the ground. Your hands blindly reached around to grab ahold of something, but everything seemed to slip out of your fingers. Cries and shouts escaped your lips every now and then. It seemed that your fall would never end.

Until it eventually did. Your body flopped around a few more times before it gradually stopped. You laid on the ground on your side, your eyes taking in your surroundings shakily. Your vision was blurry for a few moments before it returned to normal, revealing the dirt ground and hill that you rolled down just seconds ago.

You groaned tiredly and lifted your head, which felt like an anchor was attached to it. Rolling over so your back pressed against the earth, you stared at the blue sky for a few seconds, too dazed to even manifest a thought. The only thing your ears picked up was the sound of your ragged breathing escaping your mouth.

Suddenly you heard some disoriented footsteps and groaning before your eyes met the sight the Yoongi looming over you. Yoongi. A sigh of relief slipped from your bruised lips. He was alive along with you.

“Y/n...” he panted, snapping you from your frazzled thoughts. “Are you alright?” You noticed a trickle of blood drip down the side of his face from a cut located in the temporal area. Your hand reached out of its own accord and cupped his cheek.

“Yoongi...” you murmured softly, your action catching the mechanic by surprise. “You’re hurt...”

His face radiated heat and you noted the pink flush that tinged his soft cheeks. He looked away for a few seconds in a flustered panic before returning his gaze back to you. “I’m hurt?” he gently scoffed as he took your hand in his own and pulled it from us face, your fingertips dirtied with the blood that stained his beautiful face. “You’re the one with a nasty cut.”

Your eyes flickered over to your wrist that was held in Yoongi’s hand to see a long cut that stretched down the underside of your forearm. Blood seeped out of the wound in dribbles, a steady river dripping down your cut. You didn’t even know when you obtained the wound, since you never felt any immense amount of pain. Your body only cried out at the soreness that settled in your being. You knew that you would get some nasty bruises soon.

“Shit...” you mumbled, sitting upright once the dizziness that plagued your mind faded. “That looks bad.” Your other hand gently grazed against the tender skin along the cut, currently puffing up around the broken skin.

Yoongi nodded in agreement. “It’s better than bashing your head against a rock and dying,” he pointed out, letting go of your hand. “Damn... this isn’t what I agreed to. All I thought I’d be doing was fixing whatever Namjoon broke, not nearly falling to my death.”

“At least you did it of your own free will,” you mentioned, your eyes still focused on your wound. “I was practically forced into this.”

“Well, not entirely,” Yoongi admitted, rubbing the back of his neck to massage the sore spots. “I didn’t really want to do this. If it were totally up to me, I’d be back at home fixing cars and whatnot.”

You finally tore your gaze away from your arm to meet his own, eyebrows furrowing in weak confusion. “So why did you agree to this?” you prodded further.

He let out an extended sigh full of exhaustion, thinking over what he should say for a few moments. “Because my parents need the money,” he confessed, his eyes lowering to the ground. “The Japanese aren’t exactly kind to people who can’t work. They would have my parents starve in the streets because they barely have any money in their pockets.” His fists tightened at the many memories that ran through his mind. “When Jin offered me the job for this expedition, all I could think about was the money that could my parents. It was like he was hanging a bait hook in front of me. I didn’t want to go on this fool’s journey... but my mother and father...” His voice trailed off for a few seconds in deep thought before continuing, “I gave them all the money I’d been saving up so they could last a few months on their own. Then once this is all done with and I get paid, I’m going straight back home.”

You hung onto every word that he said, your heart clenching at how much he cared for his parents, so much so that he left his home to go into an unfamiliar country with no knowledge of what may happen. He just risked his life a few minutes ago just so his parents could have a roof over their heads. “So you don’t care about your country’s history?” you asked curiously.

He paused for a moment, eyebrows furrowed slightly. “Well, no, I do care. I mean, I love my country, and I don’t want its history to forever destroyed,” he answered, stretching out his cramped legs, “but you have to admit this is a fool’s journey. This Dragon of the Stars hasn’t been found in over two thousand years. What makes you think it’ll suddenly appear now?”

“Because everyone thought it was just a legend until Namjoon found my tapestry,” you responded. “No one has even tried to go looking for it.”

Yoongi sighed once more, shoulders weakly sagging at his sides. “Yeah, maybe, but I’m not getting my hopes up, and neither should you.”

Before you could even reply, a string of shouts and cries caught your attention. Yoongi and you jerked your heads to the source of the yells and saw Jimin arranging a safe path to come down with everyone close behind him. You waved them over with your uninjured hand while Yoongi shouted at them to gather their attention. All their heads snapped to where you and Yoongi sat at the bottom of the hill. They then quickly, although still safely, rushed down the hill and to your sides, all worried for your well-being.

“Oh my God! Are you two okay?!” Hoseok exclaimed as he fell to his knees right in between you two, grabbing his medical bag and rummaging through it.

Yoongi lightly brushed his fingers against the gash on his temple. “Well, we’re not dead. So I guess that’s good,” he mumbled, now looking at his reddened fingers. “You should start with y/n first though. She’s got a pretty bad cut on her arm.”

You held out your wounded arm for him to see your skin now completely smeared with blood. His eyes widened, and he immediately went to work. He took out a bottle and a clean rag and dabbled the rag with what assumed was alcohol. He applied the liquid to your cut, and you hissed at the stinging pain that ran up your arm. He wiped the wound clean of blood and leaned in slightly to get a better view of the cut.

“Good news is...” He paused to clean your arm a bit more. “... the cut isn’t deep enough for stitches. Neither is it over any joints. So the best I can do is clean it, then apply some yarrow salve to stop the bleeding, and then bandage it up.” He gave you a relieved smile as he searched through his bag for the salve. “You’re damn lucky you both didn’t break any bones or impale yourselves on any sticks.”

Yoongi scoffed humorlessly and rolled his eyes. “Oh, yes, so lucky,” he snarked sarcastically. “We just fell down a few hundred meters. Just a stroll in the park, if I do say so myself.”

“Don’t forget the part where we almost died,” you added as Hoseok spread the yarrow salve across the length of your wound. The cooling sensation over your hot, tender flesh sent a calming effect over you.

Yoongi pointed at you in agreement to even further his point. “Oh, yes, how could I possibly forget? Thank you so much, y/n. You’re such a doll,” he said in a sweet yet sour tone. His angelic smile turned bitter as his eyes narrowed into a glare. “We almost fucking died!”

Hoseok raised his hands in surrender. “Hey! I’m just saying it could’ve been a whole lot worse. A fall like that should’ve killed at least one of you,” he defended himself, returning to aiding you. His took out clean bandages from his bag and began to wrap your arm in a neat and professional manner. Then he tore the bandages once your arm was covered and clipped the end so it could hold everything in place.

You huffed, blowing up a few strands of your hair out of your face. “Thanks, Hobi. I love talking about my hypothetical death.”

“What you should be saying is ‘Thank you, Hobi, for treating my arm! If it weren’t for you, an infection would’ve settled in the wound and given me a painful, fatal disease! You’re the best!’” He then moved over to attend Yoongi’s injury. “Besides, if you should be angry with anyone, it should be Namjoon. He broke the rope.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Yoongi gritted his teeth in irritation. “I’ve got a bone to pick with him.”

“Where is he?” you inquired, craning your neck to search for the historian. “I’ve a right to box his ears.”

Hoseok dabbled a cotton ball soaked with alcohol to Yoongi’s temple, causing the latter to flinch and scrunch his face in pain. “Last time I saw him, he was wandering over in that direction.” He pointed off toward a rock mount a few meters from where you all sat.

You pulled yourself to your feet, the soreness stretching throughout your body. You groaned noisily at the dull pain, tautening your aching muscles and joints for a few moments. A heavy haze settled on your mind, sending your stumbling in your spot. Hoseok looked at you concernedly, pausing his treatment on Yoongi. “If you’re gonna head over, you should get someone to help you,” he suggested, brows furrowed in worry.

You shook your head. “No, it’s fine, Hobi. I-“

Hoseok interrupted you to call over to a person standing a few meters away from you, admiring the view in the distance. “Tae! Can you help y/n? She needs help getting over to Namjoon!”

You groaned exasperatedly as you lightly slapped your forehead with your good hand. “Hobi...” you whined. “I told you it’s-“

Before you could finish your sentence, Taehyung instantly ran to your side, giddy like a puppy wanting some attention. “Of course I’ll help! Do you need me to carry you over?” he asked, searching your well-being over.

You were at a loss for words at first. Taehyung’s readiness to come to your aid caught you off guard. In any other situation, you would find his intentions endearing, but currently you found it just surprising. “Um, no, I’m okay,” you babbled, still flabbergasted. “If I could just use you to steady myself, that’d be jolly good.”

He gave you a wide smile and offered you an arm for you to take. “No worries!”

Taking his arm in your own, the both of you slowly strode over to where Hoseok pointed to. Once in awhile you stumbled a few paces due to dizziness, but Taehyung luckily always caught you before you could fall flat on your face. He chuckled quietly to himself before saying, “You know, you and Yoongi really scared me at first. I thought for sure both of you were dead at the bottom.”

You brought your gaze to meet his, seeing his gleeful smile ebbed away to a worried frown. His eyes were clouded over with slight regret and concern. You attempted to smile to lift his mood. “It’s fine, really. Hobi said I’m really lucky to have at least just a cut,” you replied, looking for at least a hint of a smile on his face, but sadly you found none.

He sighed softly, full of regret. “I’m so stupid. I should’ve done something. I was at the end of the line. I should’ve grabbed you before you fell, but I couldn’t. All I could do was stand there,” he confessed, looking up at the pale blue sky with a soft mournful gleam in his eyes.

You chuckled quietly, tearing your gaze away to look ahead. “You don’t need to act like I’m actually dead or paralyzed. I feel light as rain. Besides, what could you have done? You could’ve put yourself in more danger than Yoongi and I were in.”

His lips curled up in a light smile. “Still, it would’ve been sad if the last thing I said to you was about all of us swimming in the nude together,” he commented, snickering to himself.

“Yeah, can’t argue with you there. That would’ve been sad.”

He then connected his eyes with yours, his cheerful attitude slowly returning. “I’m really glad you’re okay, y/n. We all are. You know we all have a soft spot for you,” he admitted.

Your lips curled into a slight pouty frown. “Really? I wouldn’t know what with all the teasing you guys give me,” you muttered, rolling your eyes at the familiar memory.

“Only because you’re too easy to get riled up,” Taehyung responded, reaching over to pinch your cheek and give it a playful tug. “You have the cutest faces sometimes~”

You shrugged his hand away, still pouting. “My embarrassment isn’t something for you to get off on,” you argued.

He grinned broadly. “Too late.”

Finally the two of you reached the rocky mount to find the rest of the team gathered around it. You cocked your head to the side in curiosity and confusion, wondering why this rock hill captured everyone’s attention. Jungkook and Jimin quickly saw you coming in arm with Taehyung and rushed to you.

“Oh, thank God, you’re fine,” Jungkook breathed, taking you from Taehyung’s arm and wrapping you in his own. He buried his face into the crook of your neck. “I don’t think I could ever forgive myself if you and Yoongi died.”

“Yoongi is fine,” you informed him. “I actually took the brunt of the fall.” You pulled away to show them your wrapped up arm. Both of the boys’ eyes flickered with worry before they softened, reminding themselves that you were well alive.

“I’ll admit, if we found you two dead down here, I was going to kill Namjoon,” Jimin confessed, then lifted a finger to his round lips. “Don’t tell him though. That would put a strain on our teamwork.”

“Speaking of Namjoon,” you began, craning your head around them to see the rock hill behind him, “what’s he doing?”

Jimin gestured to the rock structure behind him. “Joonie said that this caught his eye, and he wanted to check it out quick,” he explained concisely. “Don’t know why though. It’s just a hunk of rock.”

The historian in question came into view with Jin, both looking at the structure and exchanging soft murmurs to each other. You quirked an eyebrow at their peculiar behavior, a voice in the back of your mind wondering if they finally lost it due to the heat.

Finally Namjoon took a few steps forward toward a thick display of plants and brushed a few large leaves to the side. He poked his head past them and instantly retracted himself in shock, the soft murmurings became shouts of surprise and excitement. You watched in amusement with the others as Jin and Namjoon jumped around excitedly before hugging each other tightly. Taehyung and Jungkook decided to clown them and copy their actions, both jumping and exclaiming high-pitched shouts. You snorted in laughter while Jimin wheezed, bending over to regain his breath.

Despite this, Namjoon and Jin beamed over to where the rest of the team stood, their faces bright with enthusiasm and anticipation. “We found it!” Namjoon practically screamed.

“You found the Dragon?!” you exclaimed, your eyebrows shooting up in shock and disbelief.

Jin shook his head rapidly. “No! We found the cave where it’s hidden!” Namjoon and Jin squealed and hugged each other once more, bouncing up and down.

“A cave?” you heard Yoongi repeat, joining them team with stitches replacing his open gash wound. Hoseok walked at his side, closing his medical bag. “Shit, I was hoping that it wouldn’t be... you know... underground.”

You peered at the spot where Jin and Namjoon stood mere moments beforehand, confusion written across your face. You gestured to the planted area. “So behind that is a cave?” When Namjoon and Jin nodded quickly, you continued uncertainly, “So, what makes you two so sure this leads us to the Dragon?”

Namjoon grabbed your, luckily uninjuried, hand and eagerly led you over to the place in question. You stood curiously at his side while he lifted the large leaves up so you could see past them. Your eyes fell upon the mouth of a rather fairly sized cave and were surprised at how you couldn’t possibly see the entrance beforehand. The jagged stone surrounding the opening dripped with dew and saturated air, the walls radiating a cool mist.

Namjoon then lifted a finger pointing toward each side of the cave. Two smaller feminine statues wearing what seemed to be extravagant saris stood, as if guarding what was beyond the entrance. “They are tutelary deities,” Namjoon explained, gesturing to the statues once more. “I guess you could call them guardian deities sent to protect over villages, houses, or, in this case, a cave. Although these statues were obviously made in an Indian fashion, Korean shamanism also shares the idea of guardian deities assigned to protect places from demons.”

“Okay...” you murmured, your voice trailing off slightly. “... But what how do you know this is the cave? It could be a completely different cave for all we know.”

“Well, you see.” He paused to move passed you, going deeper into the opening of the cave. You noticed that the other team members had appeared around you, curiously watching Namjoon as if they also wondered how he and Jin were so certain about this. “Korean shamanism was the region’s religion before the Chinese came along and introduced Buddhism to them. So we can confirm that those who fled the Chinese two millennia ago were believers of said religion. Like I said before, Korean shamanism also has tutelary deities, which are called the sotdae. Essentially they look like birds on top of a pole, meant to scare away demons and the like.” He then wandered over to one of the statues earlier. “And we can find one of those... here.” He then with a wide grin pointed at the statue yet again, more specifically at what she was holding. Wrapped around her elegant fingers was a long pole, which you assumed earlier was a staff of sorts, and the very peak of it sat a ever-watching bird. “And there’s no other logical explanation for this since Hindus associate birds with the spiritual rather than the idea of guardianship! So it must be a sotdae!” He then turned his attention toward you, his excitement growing. “And on your tapestry, it wasn’t a mountain! It was... it was... this!” He wildly gestured to the rock structure surrounding him.

“It’s called an out-crop,” Jimin corrected, acting like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Everyone seemingly ignored him, and you walked a few more paces with wide eyes, taking in your surroundings. “So... we found it?” you breathed out, disbelief still settling in your core.

Jin bounced into your view, wrapping his long arms around your waist and lifting you into the air, spinning you around and around in circles gleefully. “We found it!” he cried out happily, his loud voice echoing off the cave walls. “You are an angel from heaven! Look where you led us! You led us here!”

Yoongi bristled slightly, his lips pressed in a thin line. “Hey! I also led us here! We both landed by this cave,” he reminded, folding his arms tightly across his chest while Jin set you down gently.

Taehyung then wrapped his arms around the mechanic from behind, a cheerful grin plastered on his face. “Aw, is someone feeling a bit left out?” he giggled, resting his chin on top of Yoongi’s soft hair.

Yoongi grumbled but didn’t make any action to move from where he stood. He just remained there with a sour expression while Taehyung continued to smother him with hugs.

“This would’ve been so much easier if our ancestors just left a sign saying ‘Here lies the magnificent Dragon of the Stars! Please watch your heads as you enter’,” Jungkook remarked, glancing to where the sotdae sat. “Not ‘Oh, let’s just leave a bird here. I’m sure our descendants will know what that means’.”

“They might’ve,” Jimin acknowledged, peering further down into the cave, “but erosion and natural forces would’ve rubbed it away a long time ago. I’m surprised these statues haven’t corroded already after two millennia.”

“You know,” Jin began, also examining the statues curiously, “having Indian tutelary deities alongside ours suggests that the ancient Indians might’ve helped our ancestors in hiding the Dragon from the Chinese.”

Namjoon nodded with a slight shrug of his shoulders. “That would make sense considering that the Chinese invaded ancient India on multiple occasions. They might’ve been sympathetic to our cause.”

Remembering the heavy weight hanging from your shoulders, you hastily grabbed your camera, thankful and yet very surprised that it was still working despite the random scratch and dent here and there after your painful tumble minutes ago. You knelt down a small distance from the statue with the sotdae. Bringing your camera up to your eye so you could see through the scope, you took a picture with a bright flash illuminating the dim cave. You captured a few more pictures, all performed in a professional matter, until you were satisfied and stood back up.

“Well, that was awfully nice of them,” you commented with a smile, cleaning your camera of any dirt or grime. “We should get moving. I’d like to get the Dragon before nightfall.”

Jin nodded in agreement, lips still curled up into a grin. “Oh, don’t worry, my dear. I’ve waited far too long for this moment. I won’t waste another second.”

With that, you and the rest of the team moved out and took out your torches before clicking them on, shining the bright light down your path. Jimin, of course, moved to the head of the group seeing as the cave might be considered dangerous as no one had been down there for thousands of years.

You watched the dew slid down the various stalactites and drip off the very pointed end and fall down into the moist earth. The sound of dripping water echoed into your ears ominously as the scent of musk entered your nostrils, making you very slightly uncomfortable. You swore to God if any bat flew straight at you, you were gone. The thought of bats living in the caves made you rather paranoid.

Jungkook walked at your side, waving his torch at any little dark spot in the cave. You noticed how uneased he appeared, moving his torch shakily. “You... you don’t think they’re any traps down here, right?” he asked quietly.

You scoffed, trying to shove another paranoid thought of possibly dying because of traps to the farthest part of your mind. “When would your ancestors have time to make traps? They were too busy hiding from the Chinese,” you replied confidently.

“I guess...”

Yoongi snorted humorlessly. “Okay, even if they had time to make traps, they obviously wouldn’t be working after two millennia,” he reminded, using his expertise to help calm your worries. “That’s just plain impossible. Any wood they would’ve used would be rotten, rocks would be eroded, metals corroded, and rope would be unraveled by now.”

Hoseok then whipped his head to meet Yoongi, anxiety written all over his face. “But what if it’s cursed? I read an article that the British claim that King Tut’s tomb was cursed after-“

“For God’s sake, there wasn’t a curse,” Yoongi interrupted as he rolled his eyes annoyedly. “It’s Egypt, for crying out loud. There’s lots of things in the wild that can easily kill you. Just like how I can easily die from anything in here.”

Hoseok fidgeted uncomfortably, his nerves obviously not quelled by Yoongi’s explanation. “Please don’t die, Yoongi,” he begged softly.

The mechanic sighed tiredly. “I’m not going to die. I was just exasperating.”

You moved your torch around to shine onto the walls when you caught something out of the corner of your eye. The cave walls no longer looked jagged with rock protruding out at every angle but rather somewhat flat with intricate designs carved into it. “Hey, Namjoon,” you called out with uncertainty etched in your voice. “Do you have any idea what this is about?”

The historian brought his attention to where your light was shone and gasped in wonder. He rushed over to the wall and ran his fingers over the symbols, completely lost in his fascination. “This is incredible. These walls were made in both Indian and Korean design. Jin, your theory was right! The Indians did help us!”

Jin ran over to where Namjoon stood in a flash, eagerly looking over the carved symbols. “These images... do they...? They tell the story of the flight from the Chinese?” he wondered out loud.

“It seems so.” He lifted a finger pointing down the cave. “If we continue, we can learn more about what happened.” Namjoon then eagerly ran down the length of the tunnel, leaving the rest of the team behind in the dust.

Jimin instantly ran after Namjoon, with everyone jogging after him. He had on a panicked demeanor, not wanting the historian to get separated from the rest of the group. “Namjoon, wait!” Luckily, since Jimin excelled in athleticism from hours of working out, he caught up to Namjoon in mere seconds, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt.

Namjoon was extremely fortunate that he did, because the moment he did, he stepped on a tiled plate that sunk into the ground with a wet ‘thunk’. As this happened, Jimin yanked Namjoon back with the intention of bringing him to where everyone but instead ended up saving his life. Spears jutted out of the walls in a flash with such a powerful force that it made Jin and Hoseok jump and cry out in fear.

Namjoon flinched wildly away at what could’ve been his death, stumbling back a few paces into Jimin. Jimin held onto the historian with an iron grip that couldn’t be unclasped with anything short of a pry bar, a loud, shocked gasp leaving his lips. He then pressed his forehead into Namjoon’s back after a few stunned seconds of silence with a muffled groan. “You guys are really making me work,” he mumbled tiredly into Namjoon’s shirt. He lifted his head and dragged him back to the rest of the team. “You guys almost died three times in the span of an hour.”

Jungkook spun around to where Yoongi stood in shocked silence, round eyes blown with surprise. “I told you there were traps!” he yelled, voice almost cracking.

“They shouldn’t be working! The gears must be rusted as hell from all the moisture down here!” the mechanic argued, breaking his silence.

“Oh my God...” Hoseok breathed out softly, fear etched into every part of his face. His jaw hung open. “That means there are curses down here...”

“There’s no such thing as a curse!” Yoongi snapped, throwing his hands in the air. “But if you keep going on about it, I just might start screaming a lot of curses!”

“Everyone, calm down!” you shouted angrily. The boys stopped their bickering and looked at you, surprised and slightly afraid at how furious you sounded. You exhaled deeply to calm yourself down, before continuing in a more relaxed tone, “We need to figure out a way across.”

Jimin nodded in agreement, fingers curled around his chin in deep thought. He looked at the spears that slowly began to retract themselves into their holes in the walls with sounds of mechanical clunking and grinding. He brought his torch pointed at the ground in front of him. “The whole floor here is full of pressure plates,” he informed. “Maybe if we ran fast enough...”

“Oh, yeah, like grandpa here can run,” Jin cut in, gesturing to Yoongi.

The mechanic snorted in annoyance. “If anyone here is a grandpa, it’s you, hyung,” he retorted, placing much emphasis on the last word.

Before Jin could snap back at Yoongi, you mentioned to Jimin, “Did you see how fast those spears reacted to Namjoon? He barely pushed down on the plate and they came out. We’ll all be impaled if we try running across.”

Jimin hummed thoughtfully, realizing that you had a point. “How about if we try-? ...Tae, what are you doing?”

You turned your attention from Jimin and found Taehyung scouring along the dewy walls on his knees, his concentration deeply focused on the wall. “I’m looking for a button,” he mumbled in reply.

“A what?” you questioned, eyebrows furrowed deeply in confusion.

Taehyung pulled away from the wall and looked at you and Jimin. “Think of it this way. What if the Chinese invasion lasted a lot shorter than the Koreans thought it would, and it was safe to return back to their homeland? They would have to come back to Korea with the Dragon, right? Well, it’d be kinda stupid if they had they go through all these traps that they put up themselves, yeah? So they would have to put a button or some mechanism to stop the traps,” he explained himself.

Namjoon raised a finger as if ready to refute Taehyung’s theory but paused to think about it himself. “That’s... actually kinda smart.”

Taehyung curled his lips into a bright smile showing rows of pearly white teeth, sniggering softly to himself. “I know you guys act like I’m the team idiot, but I know a little more than what makes a good boom,” he boasted, returning back to scavenging among the walls. “Besides, I can never resist pressing a big button.” With that, he found an image of the wall of the Wheel of Dharma and pressed a finger against the axis, pushing it in with a satisfying ‘click’. The pressure plates groaned for a few seconds before dropping down with a ‘thud’. “Ta-dah! It’s safe now.”

“Good job, Tae!” you cheered, relieved that the team could move on.

Taehyung got up from his knelt down position and wrung his hands bashfully. “Aw, it was nothing, just a bit of common sense,” he continued to brag.

Jimin rolled his eyes and looped his arm through Taehyung’s. “Yeah, yeah, we get it. You’re sooo smart. Now let’s get moving,” he drawled, dragging him along the path. “The faster we get moving, the faster we can get home.”

The team set out once more further down the cave, this time more aware of various traps. You waved your torch down the path, looking for anything that may be considered suspicious. However, nothing jumped out to you that was fishy. The cave continued on and on for quite some time. Endless twists and turns came upon you.

“Watch it!” Hoseok suddenly pulled on you. You lurched back a few few steps, seeing that a few more paces and you would’ve gone careening off a ledge and into a pit full of spikes. Your heart nearly launched itself into your throat when you saw how close you were from dying. Hoseok pulled you into his chest, arms wrapped around you protectively. Instinctively, you responded by draping your own arms around his waist. Whether or not you did this to stabilize your balance or for other reasons you were unsure.

You rested your head on Hoseok’s shoulder, calming down your rapid beating heart from such a panicking ordeal. Your shoulders rose and fell in pattern with your heavy panting. “Thanks, Hobi,” you murmured gently in between breaths, feeling a small wave of exhaustion wash over you. You couldn’t help yourself. Hoseok’s arms felt so warm and comfortable.

“Yeah, just be careful next time,” Hoseok warned, slowly, though reluctantly, releasing you from his arms. “We can’t lose our lovely reporter, now can we?” He then grinned cheekily. “Should I hold your hand so you don’t get lost~?”

You rolled your eyes, all feelings of exhaustion wiped away. You pressed your lips into a thin, strained smile. “Thanks, but I’ll pass.” You moved away from the doctor, making sure to avoid the death pit from earlier.

After what seemed to be a half an hour of walking and avoiding numerous traps such as: snake pits, swinging blades, swinging logs, arrows, and even a gunpowder triggered trap, you and the team managed to get through all of them mostly unscathed. Jin got the short end of the stick and was nicked on the arm by a swinging blade. However, Hoseok quickly came to his aid and patched up the injured skin by cleaning it and wrapping some bandages around his upper arm.

You noticed that the cave began to lead upward rather downward like you assumed, and, for a moment, you worried that you would soon be reaching the surface. However, your fears were quelled quickly when you and the other came upon a spacious room, the walls, ceiling, and even floor covered in ornate designs.

Finding the room to be fascinating, you took out your camera and captured a few images of the intricate walls, the flash brightening the room for merely a second. When you pulled your camera down, you realized that there wasn’t no other exit other than the path that you all entered. “This isn’t where the Dragon is supposed to be, right?” you asked hesitantly, exploring the room with your torch.

Namjoon shook his head. “No, this isn’t it, but it’s definitely nearby. Perhaps in another room somewhere?” he wondered more to himself rather than the others.

Jungkook looked up, taking in the symbols carved into the stone. “And where would that room be? There were no other paths other than the one leading to here,” he recalled, bringing his attention back to the historian.

“There’s got to be a door then,” Namjoon declared, hurrying over to the nearby walls and examining them closely. “Maybe a secret passage of some sorts.” He raised his head back to the remaining group. “Hey, Tae! You’re good at finding buttons. Maybe you could find some mechanism that unlocks a secret door.”

Taehyung tilted his head in perturbed confusion, as if the historian just said something in a completely different language. “Why would I do that when I already know where the door is?” he questioned.

Namjoon sputtered for a moment and almost tripped himself rushing back to the demolition expert. “You do? Where?” he demanded, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Taehyung placed a long finger over the historian’s lips to silence him and raised his other one in the air, gesturing for everyone to listen for any sound. After a few seconds of silence, he asked rhetorically, “You hear that?”

Another few seconds went by as you listened intently for anything that popped out at you, but you couldn’t hear anything out of the ordinary. You were about to voice your findings when suddenly Jimin exclaimed, “Wind!”

The survivalist then rushed over to the source of the sound, located at the far end of the room. Jimin pressed his ear against a noticeable crack and held it there for a few seconds. His face broke out in a bright smile. “There’s air coming through here!”

Taehyung shrugged casually. “Geez, and you guys think I’m the dumb one.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes as he joined Jimin. “Excuse you, I have a PhD,” he reminded.

“And I have common sense,” Taehyung replied with a bold grin.

Jin happily clapped his hands together in anticipation, gathering everyone’s attention directly to him. “Great! Now how do we open it?” he inquired, eyes searching for anyone who had an idea.

“Well, there’s got to be a button, right? I mean, that’s the only possible solution,” you suggested, shrugging your shoulders.

“Or,” Yoongi cut in, raising a finger in thought, “we use Taehyung’s expertise in this situation.”

A gleam or excitement and euphoria flashed in Taehyung’s eyes at this proposal, and his face lit up in absolute elation. “Oooh, I like the way you think, Yoongi!” he exclaimed, hands already rummaging through his pack.

What Yoongi insinuated finally clicked in Namjoon’s mind, and his face fell into despair. “No! We are not blowing up thousands of years of history! Do you have any idea how much work these people put into making this cave, and you’re suggesting we just destroy it all?!”

Taehyung pouted, his lips pursing out like a child would. “Aw, come on! This was what I was hired for! I’m here to demolish things. That’s why I’m the demolition expert,” he whined. He whipped his head to face the team leader. “Jin, please let me blow it up. We could be down here for hours looking for this button or key or whatever it is. We could save so much time just by breaking down this wall.”

Jin pondered this dilemma for a few seconds, flickering his eyes between Namjoon’s pleading look and Taehyung’s begging. You could tell he was at conflict with himself, torn between the two sides. Finally, Jin sighed quietly. “Tae, do you even know if the rock here is stable? You could cause a possible cave-in.”

“A cave-in? Here?” Taehyung blew raspberries as if what Jin was suggesting was absolutely ridiculous. “No way. We’re nowhere close to any trench ends, and this cave is very well stable. If it wasn’t, then there would’ve been a cave-in a long time ago. I’m fairly certain that’ll we’ll be safe. Besides, the explosives I have in mind won’t produce enough shock to rupture anything.”

Jin rubbed the back of his neck anxiously, once more finding himself as a crossroad. “Namjoon... I’m sorry, but we need to get to the Dragon as soon as possible. Luckily, y/n took a few pictures of the walls. So they won’t be completely lost to history.”

Namjoon’s shoulders sagged in defeat, a somber sigh escaping his mouth. His eyes drifted toward the floor before he gave a weak shrug. “Fine, I guess.”

Jin then gave Taehyung a confirmed nod, and the demolition expert giddily went to work. He went over to the wall in question and took out a few small items that you couldn’t classify, placing them at the foot of the wall or any large crack that could fit them. Then he revealed a spool of wire and connected it to each of the small objects to it, making it look similar to a spider’s web. As Jungkook guided you to a safe area a few meters away from the wall, Taehyung unraveled the wire to where you all sat and connected it to a detonator.

As the demolition expert got into position with his eager hands wrapped around the detonator, he looked up to you and grinned rather wickedly, like how a playboy would when approaching a girl that caught his eye. “You might want to plug your ears, doll,” he warned in a whisper. “It’s gonna get very loud soon.”

Once you reluctantly did as he said, covering your ears uncertainly, he plunged down on the detonator, releasing a huge explosion from the room where you stood moments ago. Dust billowed out as chunks of rock floated past you, pelting you softly. Jin and Hoseok both yelped with a startle at the sudden explosion while the rest of you just flinched.

You coughed into your hand a few times when you felt the dust and dirt fill up your lungs. Your ears still slightly rang despite you covering them. Ugh, you hoped you never had to undergo something like that ever again. Too bad, you were, in fact, going to experience that many times over in the future.

Taehyung peered into the room once the dust and sand finally settled to see if was safe enough to venture out. Once he gave you a nod of approval, everyone else from their safe and hidden spots and returned to the spacious room. Large amounts of rock scattered around the room as if a tornado ran through there. You skipped and climbed over a few just to get past them. You noticed Namjoon’s sullen expression as he scanned the room, seeing the destruction of something he loved. You carefully went over to him and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry about this,” you apologized, trying to lighten his spirits with a small smile. “This room was really beautiful.”

He nodded slowly, bringing his gaze to meet yours. “It was. I’m sure it was even more beautiful two millennia ago.” He sighed dejectedly once more. “But Jin and Tae were right. It would’ve taken us another two millennia to find whatever opened that door. We can’t afford to waste even another second, not with so much at stake.”

You furrowed your eyebrows at his last statement, wondering why he sounded so cryptic. Before you could ask him to clarify what he meant, he left your side and approached the large, gaping hole in the wall. You reluctantly followed, figuring that you could ask him after you obtain the Dragon of the Stars.

You climbed over another pile of rocks and entered the next room, and you couldn’t help but let out a gasp of wonder at the sight. Instead of the stone room like before, this room had its own forest. Trees and vines grew and covered the very edges of the even more spacious room. Moss cushioned the floor with pools of crystal blue water scattered across. You looked up to see a hole in the ceiling where a beam of golden sunlight shone through, illuminating a pedestal that stood erect in the center of the magical forest. You approached the vine and moss covered pedestal, expecting to see the magnificent Dragon of the Stars. However, you were surprised to see what laid there.

“Hey! Jin!” Yoongi called, throwing a hand toward the empty pedestal vexedly. “I thought you said the Dragon would be fucking here!”

All color drained from Jin’s face as bewilderment settled upon it. He stood a few paces away from the pedestal, looking down at the empty spot. All light that shone in his eyes faded away, and he appeared as lively as the statues guarding the entrance. He looked completely broken, lost, defeated, lifeless. All of his hopes and dreams shattered as easily as an antique vase. He softly mumbled to himself, too quiet for anyone to hear.

“Hyung?” Jungkook, seeing the leader so distraught, came up to him. His round eyes softened with concern. “Are you alright?”

Jin lumbered around to face the younger man with shining eyes. He stumbled toward Jungkook and gripped him by the shoulders of his shirt while Jungkook scrambled to steady him from collapsing. “It’s supposed to be here, Jungkook,” Jin continued to mumble, fists tightening into his shirt. “Why isn’t it here? It should be here. All my research... it should be here.”

“Hyung! Snap out of it!” Jungkook shook him slightly in an attempt to focus him. “It’s gonna be okay!”

“It’s not! It’s not okay!” Jin screamed, his cries echoing off of the walls. He peeled himself away from Jungkook, hands folded over his mouth as he tried to make sense of the situation. He looked at the pedestal for a few more moments before turning to Namjoon, eyes now the size of saucers. “Namjoon, you don’t think... you don’t think the Japanese got here before us?”

Namjoon furrowed his eyebrows as he sputtered for a few moments, completely baffled by Jin’s proposal. “What? No, that’s impossible! There’s no way the Japanese government got here before us. They don’t have y/n’s tapestry to guide them here!” he reminded, hands thrown wildly into the air.

A few moments went by before Jin added, “But we’re not the only ones who have seen the tapestry...” His eyes wandered over to you, still as empty as before. He stumbled toward you, hands now raking themselves through his hair. “Oh my God, y/n, who else did you show the tapestry to?”

Your mind was at a complete blank at first, confused by Jin’s erratic question. “I...” Your voice trailed off as you tried to remember anyone suspicious who you’ve shown the tapestry to. “Recently only British people who work at museums.”

“Could the Japanese hire some British spies?” Jin went off, mumbling to himself. You watched in deep concern, wondering if your friend was falling into madness. “Those spies could’ve taken a picture or something. Maybe all they needed was a glance. After all, the Japanese-British alliance was formed in 1902. The British could’ve easily-“

“No way,” Namjoon interrupted, shaking his head. “The alliance was discontinued in ‘23, remember?”

“Maybe there’s still sympathizers around. The Japanese could’ve contracted those still loyal to the alliance.” His eyes wandered to you again. However, you noticed the dark glint that flashed. A rush of fear coursed through your veins being under his dark gaze. For a mere moment, you were afraid that he would lash out at you.

Jimin then understood what Jin was insinuating. His head snapped to you in a panic. “Wait, you’re not suggesting that y/n...” His voice trailed off, leaving the room full of tension. After he and Jin stared at each other for a few seconds, confirming Jimin’s suspicions, he shook his head. “No! There’s no way y/n is a spy!”

Your throat began to sting painfully upon hearing those very words. Seeing Jin, the man who brought you into this expedition in the first place, glare at you with such contempt and suspicion hurt your very core. Time around you seemed to slow torturously, and, just like the man before you moments ago, you felt your whole world ending. How could he think so little of you? What if the others began to agree with him? What if they all began to distrust you as well? You don’t think your heart could handle such pain. You have grown fond of the boys around you, despite their constant teasing. Now, to imagine them abandoning you because of suspicion, your body trembled at the very thought.

Your eyes widened as you jerked your head to Jin, your breathing suddenly erratic. “What?! No! Why would you think I’m a spy?” you demanded frantically.

His whole body shook with a silent rage. “What other possible explanation is there?!” he exploded, throwing his hands in the air.

“Literally any other possibility!” Yoongi came to your defense, arms folded irritatedly. Your thoughts and fears of the others joining Jin’s side died with that. You never expected the aloof mechanic to be the first one to defend you. However, seeing him glance at you with soft concern before sharpening his gaze back to Jin tugged at your heartstrings. He really was something else…

“I always knew you agreed to help us a little too quickly,” Jin sneered, ignoring Yoongi’s comment as he took a few steps toward you. His gaze darkened even further. “What else did you tell them? Did you tell them who was involved, huh? Did you give them our locations from the past week?!”

Taehyung stepped in front of the leader, acting as a guard between you and Jin. His eyes turned cold as he stared down the other man. You had never seen him so serious, so scary. It made goosebumps travel up your arms and shiver down your spine. “Jin…” Taehyng began, his face not moving a muscle. “Step away from y/n and calm down. You’re angry, and you’ve a right to be so. But taking it out on y/n isn’t going to help anyone or bring the Dragon here.”

“Or what? You’ll attack me?” Jin goaded, folding his arms across his broad chest. He clicked his tongue while shaking his head in disappointment. “I knew you all really liked her, but really? Jumping to her side? She’s not even one of us!”

“Okay, Jin, calm down!” Jimin exclaimed, raising his hands in front of him. “Let’s not jump to any drastic conclusions. If the Japanese were here before us, then wouldn’t the traps already be deactivated? How would they have found what unlocked the door? This place looks like it hasn't been touched in centuries!” His face lit up with revelation as he continued, “Besides, if y/n was a spy, why would she still be here? She would’ve given the tapestry to the Japanese, wouldn’t she? Why bother sticking around with us? She nearly died, Jin! Why risk her life?”

You noticed the dark look in Jin’s eyes slowly dissipate with each question Jimin shot at him. His ragged breathing calmed into a normal pattern, and his bristled shoulders sagged. He cast his gaze to the ground, seemingly thinking things over once more. “Okay,” he acknowledged through gritted teeth. “Does anyone else have any possible explanations then?”

Jungkook spoke up, “Maybe this was a red herring? Something to throw the Chinese or thieves off their trail?”

“It’s plausible,” Namjoon agreed, eyes glazed over in deep thought, “but would the Indians and Koreans have time to make this and then another hiding place?”

You looked around the room, searching for any clues that explain what happened to the Dragon. The only things that jumped out at you were the trees and plants that were scattered around. The boys argued around you loudly, but you ignored them as you wandered around, looking at anything that could help you in your search. The moss, the trees, the plants, the hole in the ceiling, the pools of water, anything.

You wandered over to one of the walls, which was covered mostly by a large branch adorned with thick leaves. Thinking that there might be something behind it, you brushed past the leaves to see what could possibly be hidden from you. Once you caught sight of the wall, your eyes widened into round circles. Your mouth gaped open as you released a shocked gasp. Backing away from it, you turned back to the group. “Namjoon!” you called, your voice mixed with excitement and disbelief. “Come look at this!”

The historian pulled away from the arguing boys and joined you at you side, confused and curious as to what you found. You brushed past the leaves once more and revealed your findings to him. His expression suddenly matched yours from moments ago. He looked on with disbelief, as if he just couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

Hanging from the wall was a large tapestry, design equal to the tapestry that you had in your possession. In fact, where the tapestry began hung loose fibers, as if it had been torn. The tapestry stretched out through the entirety of the wall, images woven into the strings.

“Your tapestry, y/n! Take it out!” Namjoon burst out, barely managing to contain his excitement.

You opened your bag and took out your tapestry, unfolding to reveal the image you were well acquainted with. Namjoon moved some more leaves so you could lift your tapestry next to where it was obviously torn. When you did so, you beamed excitedly. It was a perfect fit.

“Hold it! Hold it!” You practically pushed the tapestry into Namjoon’s arms as you readied your camera, eagerly waiting to take a picture of your findings. After the historian raised it next to the rest, you snapped a few photos.

Namjoon returned to your side, eyes scanning over the rest of the tapestry with deep interest. “This is incredible!” he gasped, moving closer. His fingers ran over the symbols and images that littered the woven fabric delicately, as if it would all unravel under the slightest touch. “This explains what happened!”

“To the Dragon?” you prompted, following where his fingers flicked.

“To the Dragon and the Koreans who fled!” he assured, running his hands through his hair. He then stepped outside the brush of leaves where the rest of the team awaited. “Hey! We found what happened!”

Everyone at this news bolted over, surrounding you and Namjoon. Their gazes swept over the hanging tapestry, wonder stretched along their faces. Hoseok tilted his head curiously as his gaze flickered to you. “Hey, this looks a lot like y/n’s tapestry,” he mentioned, finger lifted up to point at the tapestry in your hands.

“That’s because this is the source from where y/n’s tapestry was cut from. Maybe one of the Koreans took it to keep the memory of this place alive,” Namjoon theorized, then wandered over at pointed at one of the images.

Upon closer inspection you noticed the fleeing Korean people were sitting in a room surrounded by trees and with sunlight pouring in from the ceiling. Actually, now that you thought about it, the image looked very similar to the one you were currently standing in.

“This isn’t the place where they hid the Dragon. This is where they lived when hiding from the invading Chinese forces! The traps weren’t meant to protect the treasure. It was to protect them from any enemies finding them,” the historian explained. “The Dragon was still with them.”

“Apparently they didn’t stay long though,” Yoongi remarked, gesturing to the next image. You followed his gesture and saw a picture of Koreans being slaughtered gruesomely by Chinese forces while the rest of the group escaped, one person in particular with the Dragon in her arms. You swallowed a stinging lump in your throat that was suddenly lodged. The image depicted some Koreans getting decapitated while others were impales with swords, streaks of red painted across the fabric.

“Yes,” Namjoon agreed, his tone more somber. “According to the text, an Indian traitor informed the Chinese of our ancestors’ whereabouts and led them past the traps. Some, but few, managed to escape with the Dragon.”

“Does it say where they went?” Taehyung asked, bewilderment and sympathy etched on his face.

Namjoon searched over the next image which showed Koreans running away and a text above it. He mumbled to himself in words you couldn’t understand. His pointed finger skimmed along the text as he read it. Then he let out a defeated sigh. “It doesn’t give a direct explanation of where they went. It says ‘Our brothers fled toward the falling sun away from deadly foes. To the land of three pits and flowing rivers they went. They wished they were like the baaz, flying the endless skies freely’.”

Yoongi groaned exasperatedly and rubbed his cheeks tiredly, careful to avoid pulling at his stitches. “Oh, these people can never be straightforward,” he complained.

“It’s a clue, regardless,” Jin commented, face scrunched up in thought. “Falling sun... falling sun...” He paced the floor back and forth for a few seconds, mumbling the same phrase repeatedly. Revelation lit his face up, and he snapped his fingers. “Falling sun! The sun is setting, meaning they went West!” He then grinned proudly to himself. “I knew taking those literature classes would be useful.”

“Couldn’t they be a little more precise with the location?” you questioned, ignoring Jin and realizing that going West could mean absolutely anywhere.

“Hopefully the rest of the text will tell us,” Namjoon replied. “To lands of flowing rivers... Jimin, got any ideas? You’re our geography expert.”

Jimin huffed annoyedly, rolling his eyes in the process. “Learning survivalism doesn’t mean learning global geography,” he snapped, but then sighed, “but I’ll do what I can. Flowing rivers could mean anywhere from here to Egypt. The Tigris and Euphrates are famous rivers in the western regions. Perhaps they went there?” He then cupped his chin, humming to himself softly. Confusion weighed down his eyebrows. “But the part about the baaz and the three pits?”

Namjoon kept his gaze on the ancient text, tapping his chin deep in thought. His brow scrunched together in concentration. “Baaz means falcon in their tongue, if that means anything, but the three pits... You’re right, that’s confusing,” he informed, although seemed disappointed that he couldn’t provide any further information. He paused for a few moments before his lips slightly parted and his eyes widened. He then slapped a hand against his forehead in disbelief. “Of course! How could I be so stupid?”

“It happens to the best of us,” Hoseok happily chirped in.

“What? No, that’s not what I-” He cut himself off with an annoyed groan and turned back to face the group. Running a hand through his thick locks, he continued, “Trigarta. It’s an ancient name for a territory to the west of here. Scholars debate on whether or not the literal translation of the word means ‘three pits’ or ‘land between three rivers’, which makes sense since the text here also mentions rivers. Nowadays the term isn’t used anymore, but one of the regions that was included in Trigarta was...” His voice trailed off as he quickly rummaged through his hip bag and pulled out a map. Opening it up, he searched for the land in mind before turning the map to face the team. “Punjab.”

You grinned broadly when your eyes landed on the territory labeled Punjab. You straightened out your posture confidently and boasted, “And since Punjab is entirely controlled by the British, I can use my reporter license to get us into nearly anywhere we wish.”

Taehyung wrapped his long arms around your waist from behind and squeezed you affectionately, rubbing his cheek against the top of your head, “That’s our little reporter! Opening closed doors for us!”

“Exactly,” Namjoon commented as he folded up his map and tucked it into his bag, “so we can stop accusing each other of being spies.” He gave a pointed look at Jin.

The leader crossed his arms grumpily, as if he didn’t want to be seen as a bad person for pointing the finger at you. His eyes were still narrowed into a sharp glance before he cast his gaze to the mossy floor, guilt and regret now softening his eyes. For once, he kept his mouth shut and pulled away from the team, focused entirely on leaving the room and continuing on with the expedition.

However, you noticed the way his determined pacing toward the exit slow as confusion crawled its way into his face. Jin tilted his head to the side in bewilderment for a few seconds before the look of confusion was quickly replaced with fear. He flung himself back toward the group, but down before screaming, “Get down!”

Before you could ask why, a gunshot rang across the room and everything was thrown into chaos. Everything happened so quickly it was like a blur to you. Everyone shouted orders to each other, teammates rushed past to take cove. It wasn’t until moments later did you realize Jungkook grabbed you roughly by the hand and pulled you toward a fallen over tree that would provide you enough cover to hopefully avoid getting shot at.

Your head spun with confusion as you barely registered what was going on. There was a gunshot. A gunshot. That meant someone else was here, someone who wished to kill you all. Your mind swam with the disbelief at was currently happening. Who? Why? Where did they come from? How? Questions bubbles out in your thoughts from seemingly nowhere as you tried to piece together what was going on.

However, you were snapped out of your daze when a colt suddenly appeared in front of you. Your hands instantly grabbed it, although your face was wide with horror. You looked up at Jungkook and were about to protest but couldn’t get the words to tumble out of your mouth. You merely gazed into the calm and focused expression his face slipped on. It almost scared you how serious he appeared despite the circumstances. He brought up his arms which held a pump-action shotgun, causing your eyes to nearly bulge out of your sockets. Just where the bloody hell did he pull that from?

He pumped the shotgun aggressively before turning his cool gaze to you. “Time to get work.” He took aim and fired.

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