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tvdiaries-imagines · 4 years

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Old Flame: Pt. 17

Warnings: Cursing, tobacco use

Word Count: 4694 (the longest chapter so far!)

OLD FLAME MASTERLIST: CLICK HERE

“WHERE IS SHE?!”

Klaus roared throughout the courtyard, furious that you are nowhere to be found after you successfully snapped his neck. The moon was out the last time he’s seen you but waking up, the moon had disappeared and now it’s daylight. He usually wouldn’t have woken up this late from a simple snapped neck, but you took a page out of his book and stuck a vile of vervain in his system after successfully finding his vervain collection.

Hayley and Jackson were across the way on the second floor, having a quiet chat beside the railing. “Who?” Hayley asked, puzzled.

“Y/N!” Klaus shouted, fuming as he’s glancing around the vicinity.

Kol stepped out of one of the rooms on the second floor after hearing a frantic original. Hayley and Jackson stepped inside the nearest room, figuring Kol could handle Klaus. “I thought she was with you, Nik?” Kol brought up.

“Apparently, she said she was fine last night.” Klaus raced towards his brother who sauntered inside the bedroom he’s occupying during his stay. “Then she snapped my bloody neck and disappeared with the stake.” He retrieved his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed your number. After a couple rings, he nearly cursed after being sent to voicemail. It wasn’t a surprise to him since almost every time you’re in a dire situation, your phone is never answered. But, Klaus figured he’d try.

“What happened to her when I left to speak to Esther?” Klaus asked, jaw clenched.

“If I tell you, give me your word that you won’t be cross with me.” Kol eyed him anxiously.

“What did you do?” Klaus muttered in an alarming tone.

“All I did for Y/N was a favor. I had no control of how she’d react.”

“Spit it out, brother. What is it?”

“She was worried about her friend, Kai Parker.” Kol answered. “Figured Esther was behind it, so she requested I find out. Turns out, mother sent him to a prison world and there’s no fixing it.”

“And that’s the reason for her lunacy?” The hybrid’s nostrils flared in aggravation.

“It is.”

“Good riddance. I don’t know what Y/N sees in that imbecile.” Irritation pricked at him.

To add even more stress, an angry Finn Mikaelson immediately walked in, magically breaking one of the vases on the table. “Where is she?”

“Finn, please, join us.” Klaus said with blatant mockery.

“Don’t make me ask again.” Finn sneered.

“I assume you’re referring to our mother. Fear not, she’s tucked away somewhere perfectly safe.” Klaus added. “You’ll never find her.”

“You think you’ve won. Let’s see how long that arrogance lasts, brother.” Finn glared at his brothers before turning around and marching away with heavy steps.

Klaus tried reaching you again but was sent to voicemail. That alone ticked him off and he was close to throwing his cell phone at the brick wall.

“I’m going to find Y/N. You’re coming with me, Kol.” Klaus made his way out of the bedroom in lengthy steps.

“Oh, splendid.” Kol responded back, trailing behind his brother.

Reaching the courtyard, there were a handful of Hayley’s wolf allies and Marcel’s group of vamps gathered together. Klaus is aware that it’s Hayley and Marcel’s attempt for them to make a truce for the bigger picture.

“Klaus, stop!” Hayley blurted, Klaus and Kol stopped in their tracks.

“Finn spelled all of the exits. We can’t leave.” Marcel added.

Klaus put a palm up at eye view, slowly reaching out until his skin sizzled against the spelled blockade, letting out a faint groan from the affliction. He threw his healing hand down to his side and shifted his view to his youngest brother, expression hardened. “Fantastic.” Klaus muttered sarcastically.

(Meanwhile…)

After disappearing into the night, you booked a suite at the Ritz-Carlton. You’re aware that Klaus has plenty of connections, so you assured that you didn’t put a card on file in case he traces it. Instead, you compelled the staff to allow you to stay for free. You even took extra precautions and showed them a photo of Klaus so that if he ever steps foot into the Ritz-Carlton, they’ll notify you right away.

Having your humanity off so far has been dandy because you had no care in the world. If you were your normal self, there’s no doubt that you would be following Klaus around like a lost puppy during one of his missions and the thought made you sick to your stomach right now.

You woke up this afternoon to your suite nearly trashed from the little party you decided to throw last night because you gathered a handful of good looking people from bourbon street and plenty of liquor to keep you inebriated throughout the night. A man and a woman stayed overnight, thanks to your compulsion. You knew you’d be famished this afternoon and fresh blood ultimately did the trick for you.

After an incredible shower and devouring your sinful snacks, you compelled your victims to bandage up their wrists and be on their way. Housekeeping began tidying up your suite after you made your way out.

Though your craving for blood is fulfilled, you desired a hot bowl of gumbo, so you threw on your sunglasses and trekked through the quarter, crossing your fingers that your pesky beau isn’t looking high and low for you in the area. Your heels clicked along the cement, wearing your best black dress sitting pretty just above your knees.

Gumbo Shop was what you decided on and the friendly host sat you down at a table inside, farthest away from the windows. She did as expected by leaving a menu with you and handing you off to a server.

Within the hour, all of your cravings are satisfied so you left a generous tip for your server and went on your merry way. You weren’t sure what you planned to do next, so you allowed the city to decide for you. A street performer captured your attention so you stopped to observe.

Out of the blue, you spot Finn Mikaelson nearly walking past you in a rush. “Hi Finn. Why are you always so glum?” You teased, brow raised. He put a halt to his steps, hands behind his back. He wore a dark suit, the jacket fully unbuttoned.

“No use in going home anytime soon, dear Y/N.” He implied arrogantly. “Nobody can get in or out, thanks to my spell.”

“I wasn’t planning on it, but alright.” In the blink of an eye, Finn strolled away. “Change of plans I guess.” You smirked.

(Later…)

Entering through the gates of the compound, you discovered over a dozen people in the courtyard. It seemed like they were not enjoying themselves whatsoever. There were a few familiar faces as well, including Marcel, Josh and Hayley. You wondered if Klaus or Kol managed to get trapped here as well since they weren’t in the space from what you can see. Your presence seemed to catch everyone’s attention though.

“Don’t you all look cozy.” Your haughty tone was obvious.

“Y/N wait!” Marcel alerted. “Don’t take another step. Finn put up a boundary spell.”

“Thanks for the heads up Marcel. But I already knew that. I bumped into Finn earlier.”

“But you came anyway?” Marcel raised a brow in suspicion.

You shrugged your shoulders in response, leaning against the wall close enough to the invisible barrier. Once everyone else besides Marcel realized that you were no help in freeing them, they were no longer interested in your presence and went back to sulking.

“Ah I see.” He came to a realization. “You’re here to gloat. Why?”

“There you are.” Klaus appeared from the shadows. His edge of irritation returned and drew a scowl over his face.

“Here I am.” You were feeling exceptionally smug. While examining your fingernails, you planned to get a manicure after this foolish conversation.

“Where the bloody hell have you been?”

You showed uninterest without any eye contact as you pulled a cigarette and lighter from your purse. You placed the toxic stick in between your lips, lighting the end of it and taking a puff effortlessly as if you’ve always been a smoker. Klaus glared at your repulsive act.

“I’ve been around.” You responded after exhaling, finally making eye contact with the hybrid.

“Care to explain why you felt it was necessary to render me unconscious for hours on end and then scurry off to god knows where.” With a brisk elevator look, he motioned a nagging hand at you. Klaus was displeased with your outfit choice without him there to claw the eyes out of every man that looks at you with hungry eyes.

He almost asked you about the whereabouts of the white oak stake, but he remembered that there are ears around that he doesn’t trust.

“The thought of having to explain to you bores me.” You fake yawned. “So I don’t think I will.”

“Something’s different about her, Nik.” Kol added, his mouth set in a hard line.

“I’m aware. Her humanity must be off.” Klaus made his way closer towards you, stopping as close to the barrier as he could. You stepped over to be face to face with him, sniggering.

“There ya go.” You snorted in amusement, the toxic stick weighing at your sides, carelessly flicking off the ash on the grounds of the compound. “You really aren’t the dumbest Mikaelson, Nik.” Klaus ignored your unnecessary comment, his firing eyes following the cigarette going from your mouth to your sides.

Kol began sauntering over to his brother, standing side by side. “Oh sister. Your humanity, eh?” He shook his head in disappointment, arms folded across his chest. “I thought you were bigger than this.”

You dropped the half finished cigarette on the concrete by your feet, crushing the butt with the ball of your stiletto. “My favorite Mikaelson brother is disappointed in me.” Your hand flew to your chest, fake pouting. “I’m crushed. I really am.”

“Stop this nonsense immediately, Y/N.” Klaus said, a scowl strewn across his face.

“Or what?”

“Do not test me.”

“Well last time I checked, you’re trapped in there while I’m free out here. So joke’s on you, my love.” You teased.

A sinister chuckle left Klaus’s mouth. “You shut off your humanity for whom? A useless dullard.” You stared at the ceiling, placing your hands at your hips. “Out of all the choices Esther has made in life, I’d say that sending Sir Malachai Parker back to the prison world was the best one.” He grinned, hoping to have hit a nerve to get your humanity back. “It pleases me knowing that he will be stuck there for all eternity. All alone.” He chose his words carefully and perfectly.

Suddenly, your hands fell and your blank eyes set onto Klaus’s, unmoving. By your reaction, there was a glimmer of a chance that it worked. You grasped both of the Mikaelsons’ undivided attention.

“Nice try.” You cocked your head to your side, your once unreadable expression is now evidently complacent and it boiled Klaus’s blood. His hands clenched at his sides as he’s trying to hide his defeat from you. Kol just simply sighed at their defeat, aware that it was a longshot anyways. “I’m bored. Bye boys.” Without a care in the world, you turned on your heel and departed the compound.

Once you were out of sight, Kol turned to face his brother who was still looking at the spot you were once standing at, unable to mutter any words. “Nik?” Kol murmured, careful not to overwhelm him.

After a beat, Klaus continued to ignore his brother and vacated the spot where he stood. He made his way towards a vacant section of the compound. Kol followed behind him.

Before Klaus could touch the handle of one of the doors on the first floor, Kol attempted to acquire his attention for the second time. “Brother?” Klaus puts a halt to his long strides, taking a deep breath.

In the blink of an eye, he vamp speeds to Kol, barely leaving any space in between the two as his murderous eyes bore into Kol’s. “Don’t.” Klaus warned through clenched teeth. That dangerous tone itself informed Kol to leave him alone in the meantime. And just like that, Klaus swung the door open and violently slammed it behind him, causing a few of the other vampires and wolves to flinch.

Your mani and pedi finished in an hour. You began scouring the quarter for inspiration on what other shenanigans to get into again. After walking in and out of a few gift shops along the way and stopping to tip some of the street performers, you finally stumbled upon bourbon street.

Normally you’d throw your money at the bartenders in one of the many jazz clubs, however, house music blared through one of the other clubs and it instantaneously called your name. Males and females in their 20s occupied this loud space, yet, you didn’t mind one bit because they’re of your age compared to your 1000 year old lover with anger issues.

Dancing and mingling with these fine people made your current cold heart wish that Camille was here to join you. But you wouldn’t dare risk having her call Klaus or Kol and informing them of your whereabouts. Who knows, you might end up snapping her neck dead for doing so and you didn’t care to waste your energy. Marcel and Josh could be trusted not to tell a soul, however, they’re trapped in the compound.

You released your sharp teeth from a poor soul’s neck on the dance floor undiscovered. The warmth of her blood brought you satisfaction. “Go wipe that up in the restroom.” You compelled her and she walked off like a zombie.

(Meanwhile…)

The longer time passed with the magical barrier being up, the more Marcel and his vamps’s hunger grew for blood. It wasn’t looking good for Kol and the werewolves. They were practically walking blood bags.

To make matters worse, Klaus’s patience started running out. He needed to get to you before you caused any havoc or came to any harm. This is the first time you’ve ever turned your humanity off so he has no idea what to expect. The feeling made him sick to his stomach. Not to mention, the white oak stake can be anywhere but he trusts you’re smart enough to have it hidden somewhere good.

The entirety of the barrier will not diminish until nightfall and they couldn’t wait that long. But to their luck, it’s a miracle that Davina fancied Kol. She received a phone call from him, needing her assistance for a spell to lift the barrier and she put whatever she was doing on hold to come to his aid.

They were almost certain that the spell would work. However, being that Finn is channeling something extremely powerful, they were only to be given 60 seconds for the barrier to be down. The plan was to have the wolves, Kol and Klaus exit the vicinity.

Davina and Kol now stood face to face with the invisible barrier in between, palms as close to touching as it would allow them. Small, lighted candles lined up in front of the witches and a circle of salt surrounded them as they continued muttering their spell to one another.

Due to the spell taking its course, all of the vampires needed to resort to cowering in the shadows until after Kol and Davina’s spell die out. Klaus and the wolves were allowed to wait beside the barrier.

A gust of wind abruptly flew through Kol and Davina, causing the candles to blow out and some of the salt to scatter. They exchanged smiles and were relieved to have the chance to touch palms.

“Okay, Jack. Now!” Hayley announced.

“Come on, let’s go.” Jackson didn’t hesitate to rush his pack out of there, guiding them towards the exit along with Hayley.

“Remember, 60 seconds!” Kol reminded them. He was eager for the werewolves to egress and then he followed suit.

But before Kol could take another step, Klaus dashed to him, holding him by the shoulder. “Slight change of plans, brother.” In a trice, he threw Kol in the air until he landed about 50 feet away, grunting in pain. “I no longer have to treat you like anything but the treacherous liar you truly are.” The hybrid spat. Davina’s neck snapped to him, bewildered.

“What the bloody hell?” Kol gradually sat up, feeling just as confused as Davina.

“Where is she?” Klaus questioned, vampires eyeing his brother hungrily while they still waited in the shadows.

“Please, they’ll kill him!” Davina pleaded.

“Well, he should’ve thought about that before he betrayed our sister.”

“What will Y/N think?!” She added.

“Not to worry about my beloved’s opinions of Kol’s predicament. Let’s just say, she’s not herself today.” Klaus replied to Davina before returning his attention to the mischievous Mikaelson, who now rose to his feet. “Rebekah never made it to her new body, did she? Seeing as how you casted the spell, and well, you’re you. I’d hardly call it an uncrackable case.”

“Rebekah’s fine, Nik. It was a prank.” Kol quicked marched towards his older brother. “Nothing more than what you lot have done to me.” He pointed a nagging finger. “But I guess it’s different when it’s one-” The magical blockade was up and running again and its wrath burned Kol’s pale hand, causing him to reel backwards and hiss in pain.

“Barrier’s back up.” Klaus flickered his eyes at the ravenous vampires coming out of the shadows. “And those vampires look oh so hungry.”

Kol grew anxious as the vampires made their way to him like a predator ready to take down its prey. Davina’s eyes began to well up in tears, yearning to come to Kol’s aid.

“I was willing to welcome you back into my home, but you had to return to your selfish petty jealousies.” Klaus said. “Well, let’s see how they help you survive when you’re stuck in there!” He stormed off towards the exit without the thought of a glance. He felt no remorse whatsoever for his little brother.

(Meanwhile…)

The sun began to set and it was no secret that you look damned good in the tight dress and towering heels. A handful of men even offered to pay for your drinks and you obviously obliged although you could’ve easily compelled them to. This made your job much easier.

Since you were pretty buzzed and in an amazing mood, you allowed one of the pathetic men to dance with you, only being allowed to touch your arms or your waist.

Due to the substantial amount of liquor in his system, his confidence was at an all time high and he attempted to lean in for a kiss. You snorted at his juvenile gesture and turned the other cheek. “N-Nice try. Fun’s over.”

“Oh come on.” He insisted. As you were about to free yourself of his hold, he tightened his grip on your waist and it caught you off guard. Little does he know that you aren’t human, so you prepared yourself to use your vampire strength to free yourself. You smirked, allowing him this minor moment before you stripped it away from him.

The drunkard fool leaned forward once again to press his lips onto yours while his hands stroked your waist. You rolled your eyes, snickering as you seized his wrists. “I said-” In a flash, he was thrown across the dancefloor but it wasn’t because of you. Some of the clubbers' attention were focused on what just happened and others acted like nothing happened. Before he could think to stand to his feet, one of the sizable bouncers roughly brought him to his feet to begin dragging him out.

Everything happened so fast and you focused your view to the only person standing beside you to your left. Klaus Mikaelson. “Oh fuck you, Nik.” You grimaced at your inessential savior, your heels rapidly clicking off of the dance floor towards the exit. As much as you wished to vamp speed away, you were smart enough not to do it in the public eye. Humanity off or not.

Instead of hiding off in an alley, you stayed put by the entrance of the club where passersby can clearly see you, leaning against one of the brick walls. You searched through your small purse until you found a cigarette and lighter, but as you were about to light it, rough fingers pulled it out of your mouth.

Klaus didn’t mutter a word, but you can tell by the expression on his face and his body language that he was seething inwardly. You were revelling in the moment. “I’m a vampire. I can’t get lung cancer, idiot.” You scoffed at him. As much as you want to try to light another cigarette, you know that Klaus is just going to toss it.

“We’re going.” He grabbed a hold of your bare upper arm, signaling to follow him or suffer the consequences. You shook his grip off, unphased by it.

“You’re hilarious.” You said, keeping your feet planted to the ground. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“I’m serious, love. This isn’t a game. Let’s go.” Klaus remarked, towering over you.

You peered up at him through your lashes, shooting daggers. “Did you forget? I don’t fucking care. Now leave me alone.” You shot him a glare and attempted to walk past him, but he stepped to the side as a wall.

“You out of all people know what I am capable of.” Klaus started. “And yet, you are determined to incur my wrath.”

“Your wrath?” You snorted. “Okay then, show me. Right here, right now. In front of all of these people.” Klaus took a peep over your head, unmoving. You hummed in amusement. “I thought so.”

You wasted no time and began trekking down bourbon street’s sidewalk, unsure of where you are headed as long as it’s away from Klaus. You freed your cell phone from your purse and began endlessly scrolling through social media, ensuring not to bump into anyone coming your way.

To your misfortune, Klaus materialized beside you, walking on the outside of the sidewalk. “Oh, you’re still here.” You said dryly, eyes never leaving the screen.

“In what world is this heretic worth your humanity?” He asked, disgusted. His eyes flickered from straight ahead to you.

“My world, apparently.”

“You know, you have people that could have helped you. There’s Stefan, Damon, Kol.” One by one, Klaus counted up to three fingers in the air before going back to relaxing his hand at his side. “Even Rebekah, if it weren’t for Kol’s foolish prank.”

“Good to know, Nik.”

He gazed at you, swallowing before speaking. “You also had me.”

“I can see that since you keep following me.” You finally peeled your eyes from your phone, throwing it back in your purse, raising your chin up at Klaus. He briskly narrowed his eyes, not allowing your cold response to get to him.

“Oh come now, sweetheart. Let’s not make this difficult for the both of us.”

“You’re making it difficult for yourself.” You waved an airy hand. “Now shoo, you’re killing the vibe.”

“Alright then, Y/N. I’ve been far more patient with you.” Klaus creeped up behind you and swiftly cracked your spine so that you were comatose. Then, he scooped you into his arms so that he held you bridal style.

To his luck, his swift, yet flawless gesture didn’t get a second look from anyone in the crowd. It seemed as if you were absurdly tipsy and he prevented you from falling to your knees. He felt a pang of relief and his tense shoulders relaxed knowing he can safely bring you home.

(Later…)

Finn’s barrier spell throughout the Mikaelson compound is now nonexistent. It is dead silent and the only two souls occupying this vast structure are you and the original hybrid for now. Your limp, unconscious body is tied to a wooden chair including your wrists and your ankles.

Klaus has been pacing for the past few minutes, conjuring up different plans to mentally bring back the woman he loves, instead of this facade of a nightmare that is taking over. And hell, if it weren’t for your humanity switch, he would revel in tearing that dress off of you and making love to you until the sunrise.

The sudden sound of your groaning put a halt to his steps. He watched as your head steadily moved up and you cracked your neck. Your eyes caught a glimpse of your surroundings which appears to be one of the many rooms in this godforsaken building. You raised a brow at your lover who is standing merely a few feet away just ahead of you. “This doesn’t look like the Ritz-Carlton.” You said in your head.

“It would be impolite if I didn’t ask how your catnap was.” Klaus commented, wearing a shit eating grin.

“It was fantastic.” You returned his cocky expression with a flashing smile of your own.

“Now that I have you where you can’t simply walk off, let’s get to business then, shall we?” Klaus took amble strides towards you and kneeled until he was at eye level with you. “This will only take a second.” He noted, voice low enough for only the two of you to hear.

As soon as his irises stared into yours, you turned your chin to the right, but Klaus was quick to seize your jaw with his strong fingers, shifting your view back to him. You knew exactly what his intentions were at that very moment.

He’s going to compel you.

The location of the white oak stake is still unknown to him and since he is closer to getting you back to your normal self, he’ll finally get the stake back.

“Get on with it already. I don’t have all day.” You implied. Klaus kept his frustration in check from your moronic remark and went on with what he intended to do.

Your eyes focused on his, observing his pupils fascinatingly growing and shrinking. "You will put an end to this madness and turn it back on.” He released his grasp on your face.

You blinked twice and your lips parted, chest rising and falling. “Nik.” You paused. “I-” Klaus began freeing one wrist from the bindings.

“What is it?” He asked, concerned.

As soon as one wrist was free, you sneered at him and before he could blink, you tore off the arm of the chair, flipped it over so that the sharp bit pointed out and stabbed Klaus in the neck with it. “Ah!” He called out, face contorting from the unexpected laceration.

Obviously, you could have simply kept playing it off as if your humanity was back so that Klaus frees you of all of the restraints. But, you wanted to poke fun at him instead. Inflicting pain onto Klaus was significantly more gratifying right now.

“You really thought you had me there, didn’t you?” You let out a burst of laughter. Klaus cried out in pain while pulling the stick of wood out of his neck and tossing it to the floor, taking heavy breaths as the gash healed. “Nice try, Nik. But I’ve been drinking vervain as of late. Thanks to Stefan and Damon for the tip.”

Instead of inflicting the pain back to you or snapping your neck to shut you up, Klaus stormed out of the room to overlook the courtyard from the railing. As much as he wanted to rip the railing off from his frustration, he shockingly kept his cool and an idea came to mind. He obtained his cell phone from his pant pocket and dialed a familiar number.

After many rings, his call was answered.

“Klaus?” The voice on the other line said.

“Hello, old friend.” Klaus grinned, oddly comforted to hear their voice. “I’m in need of a favor.”

A/N: Hope you guys appreciated the longer chapter!! I know the last one had a lot of Y/N x Kol moments, so I gave you guys more of Y/N x Klaus moments in this one. I have to say, it was quite fun writing with Y/N’s humanity off. And it was especially fun writing Klaus’s responses to it lol...Oh and I’m sure you guys can guess who Klaus’s ‘old friend’ is :)

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monocaelia · 4 years

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oblivious [zhongli modern au]

[Zhongli x Reader] - Modern AU

---

Being the secretary of Zhongli was… a new experience, that’s for sure. If you had known you’d be doing the most random things for the CEO of Rex Lapis Co., maybe you wouldn’t have applied for the job here. You’ve had to do many, many, different things that no other ordinary secretaries have done before; such as going personally to Zhongli’s apartment to wake him up in time for his next scheduled meeting or even tagging along with him when he had to fly out to the United States for a business trip (although it felt more like a vacation more than anything). You’ve even had to attend the wedding of an acquaintance with Zhongli as his plus one, which was a pretty weird experience in your opinion. Some people approached you then and asked if you were a couple, to which you vehemently denied.

You and your boss? Now, that’s a funny story.

Though… it’s not like you haven’t thought about the possibility of your boss and you being together. He was handsome, both personality wise and physically. He was tall and built, which surprised you considering you’ve never seen or heard of him working out as a hobby. Maybe it was a rich person thing to be built at all times. He was kind, extremely intelligent about a multitude of topics while at the same time being a clueless idiot when it came to social interaction. You found it endearing when he would come to you and asked questions about things that were common sense to you but foreign to him.

He always listened to you when you guys took your breaks together and you talked about your day, what was bothering you, or what you were excited about. Which was… surprising to say the least. You didn’t expect Zhongli to pay attention to your little life when he was literally living the lavish dream that anyone wanted. He always sent your stomach cartwheeling when he laughed at one of the stories you told or when he smiled when you talked about the video game you were currently into.

There was a moment when someone called you to help them during your break with Zhongli. They had knocked on his office door, completely interrupting the amiable atmosphere between the two of you, and politely requested your assistance, to which you agreed and bid your farewell to him. You could’ve sworn you saw him frown when you left him alone but as soon as it was there it was gone.

The thing that truly captivated you, though, were his eyes made of pure, molten gold. Although they’ve always been kind to you, you’ve seen them pierce those who talked against Zhongli or broke their promises to pay his company back. He was a stickler for promises and rules and he never took them lightly. They gleamed with danger and power when he was upset, but with you they were warm pools of honey that you could get lost in.

The multitude of random events that occurred because you were Zhongli’s secretary included the current errand you were running with your boss. The new year was coming by and Zhongli had decided that he wanted to go out and go shopping.

What for? He wouldn’t tell you.

You trailed slightly behind the taller man, making sure to not lose sight of him. You would have walked beside him so it was easier to converse but walking around with your boss was kind of intimidating and the crowd was heavier than usual. Did he really want to go shopping now of all times? You wished you were back in the safety of your own bed and not in the crowd of hundreds of people as they did last minute shopping for the New Year celebration.

“May I hold your hand?” The question almost slipped past you had Zhongli not peered down at you, expecting an answer from you. It was so nonchalant… did he understand the implications of that between two adults? You stared at him, wide eyed and mouth open in shock.

“U-um… Mr. Zhongli, why would we need to hold hands?” you questioned, furrowing your brows in confusion.

“I saw it in a drama I was watching. The main characters were holding hands whilst in a crowd so the two wouldn’t get separated.” Innocence danced behind his eyes. Oh Archons above, you have to stop finding this man endearing. “I thought it would be appropriate for this situation considering the amount of people around us.”

His reasoning was simple enough. It was just about not losing each other in the crowd, right? So, holding his hand shouldn’t be too bad. There was nothing behind his words and actions anyways, at least you hoped so.

Your hand slipped into his with ease, much to your surprise. Despite convincing yourself that this was just so the two of you wouldn’t get separated while on this trip together, you couldn’t help your heart thumping against your chest. His hands were gloved, but the heat still radiated off of him and warmed you up. His grip on your hand tightened when someone bumped into you and your heart nearly leapt through your chest.

The multitude of shops you two passed went by like a blur of flashing lights and the glow of city lamps. Well... that was until you got to a certain pastry shop. You paused in your step and stared into the window displaying the desserts and felt your mouth water at the sight of them.

“Ah, so this is what you’re into,” Zhongli spoke from beside you. Ah, you forgot he was there.

“Yeah, I’m a sucker for sweet treats and this so happens to be my favorite bakery!” Your smile slowly fell. “But it’s pretty expensive so I can’t get any pastries often.”

Zhongli examined your fallen expression and furrowed his brows. He squeezed your hand once more. “Is that so…?”

And with that Zhongli walked into the shop with you in tow. You sputtered in surprise. He wasn’t going to do anything rash like buying you a dessert right? You tried to stop him, telling him that it’s okay and that he shouldn’t spend any money on you. But your attempts were futile against the brick wall that was Zhongli.

A cute, blue box of pastries was placed into your hands as Zhongli’s gentle smile grew on his lips. Archons… he had to stop smiling like that otherwise he could get away with anything if it involved you. You sighed and gave him a concerning look.

“Mr. Zhongli-”

“Zhongli, please. We’re not in the office, [Name],” he corrected you.

“...Zhongli, why did you buy me this? I could have done so in the next paycheck,” you queried. You held your head in your hands. “Actually… why did you pull me out today to do this? It almost feels like we’re…” You paused in your words.

“...It feels like we’re on a date, Zhongli.”

“Oh, I thought I made that clear, [Name].”

Huh? Did you hear that correctly? Is he telling you that this entire day at the shopping center was a scheme to pull you on a date? Your head snapped up to look into his amber eyes, only to be met with his curious and earnest visage.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Zhongli I thought I was doing this for work.”

A look of surprise ran across his face as his eyes widened at your revelation. He cleared his throat and brought a hand to his mouth. “Apologies. I thought it was clear but I see that it wasn’t.” Zhongli met your eyes. “I will make it up to you. How about we have a proper date next week?”

Your voice got stuck in your throat at his question, but shakily nodded your head. Zhongli smiled and moved to bring your hand to his lips, pressing a light kiss on your knuckles.

“Perfect. Now, shall we enjoy the rest of this evening together?”

#zhongli scenarios #zhongli x reader #genshin impact #genshin scenarios #zhongli fluff #genshin modern au #zhongli modern au #happy birthday geo daddy #and happy new year #i swear i'm not a zhongli stannie #didi writes

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defectiveconantoy · 3 years

Text

Memories (ShinRan)

Fandom: Detective Conan

Pairing: ShinRan

Rating: T

Genres: Angst, Comfort

Words: 1,535

Author’s Notes: Remember my old WIP? I changed the title and finished drafting it right before @shinranweek was announced. 😅 The story is angst-ish mixed with confort. Enjoy!

“What a gloomy day!” Ran stares at the living room window with a frown on her face before returning to the couch. Shinichi, on the other hand, is fine with staying at home. He calmly stares at the television screen and says, “I wouldn’t worry. There’s always tomorrow. We can go to the park again, like we did yesterday. And remember, I’m not going anywhere. I’m here to stay. We have time.” That reassured Ran.

The Kudo mansion is quiet this Saturday afternoon, except for the rain lightly tapping on the windows and the sound of soup boiling in the background. Its smell of broth and fresh green onions linger around the living room and near the couch where she and Shinichi were located. Ran constantly switches her attention between the living room and kitchen while Shinichi sits and absentmindedly watches television.

Ran is spending the weekend over at Shinichi’s house. His parents are away for the week, and her father, Kogoro, left town for a case. During her visits, Ran’s favorite activity is to cook warm, homemade meals for an eager and hungry Shinichi, a tradition that first started during his Conan days. Today’s dish is miso soup, the perfect fix for the rainy weather. Good thing the meal sounds good because mothing good is on television right now. Bored, Shinichi daydreams, drifting to flashbacks of the past year’s chaos.

Calling it all chaos is an understatement. Might as well call it having your body and spirit stretched, compressed, stomped on, and slapped around. Being Conan was not easy. It was like one’s soul was screaming but nothing came out because its lips were sealed shut. He wished to tell Ran everything, to run free and stop living a double life and pretending he was not really Kudo Shinichi. The dangerous situation was an imaginary brick wall between him and Ran. He looked forward to finally breaking it and no longer seeing her hurting and waiting.

The Black Organization’s attack on him was a flash of lightning that ruined years of work achieved during his lifetime. Never will he forget the humiliation endured from being knocked down, bloodied, pulled by the hair, and forced to swallow that wretched pill. The poison’s few minutes of piercing, bone melting pain were followed by missed opportunities. Being Conan was a unique experience, but he can’t deny how his new life caused him to temporarily sacrifice his old one. To this day, he struggles to adjust but still manages to move on, in spite of slipping the occasional ah le le and Ran-neechan.

He next thinks about the moment he received the permanent APTX 4869 antidote. Days after receiving the pill, he recalls lying on a couch near Haibara Ai, who observed and documented his reaction to the drug. “Good news, Kudo-kun! Looks like the antidote is working as expected. Your vitals look fine. No heart problems or side effects. Everything looks great. Come back to visit me one week from now.” “Tch! You’d see me anyway. I live right next door,” Shinichi joked back.

At first, he was scared the drug was a fluke and would turn him back into Conan. Luckily, it ended well because he experienced the heart pounding and drastic bone growth without the shrinking afterwards. The worst after-effect was becoming Haibara’s test subject for a few days before her trying the antidote on herself. It was a sacrifice he was willing to make. After all, the first step in facing the Organization and gaining power over them was becoming himself again.

Back to reality. Shinichi shifts his attention back to the television screen and sighs. “Commercials are currently on. Still nothing good! How stupid!” The rain briefly stopped, but the clouds remain present. The house is a bit dark during these daytime hours. Ran is now in the kitchen stirring the soup.

Ran. Shinichi now blushes after he remembers telling her the truth a few weeks ago. He returned to the Mouri residence to pick up Conan’s (or his) belongings. They spoke alone in her bedroom, with her doing most of the talking. And boy, did he feel guilty! The memories hurt. He feels embarassed now while deep in his thoughts as he did then. He lied to her about his identity and used that front to stay at her home, take a bath with her, and unintentionally tune in on secrets she would never tell him as Shinichi.

Their conversation was actually quite a relief. Ran was more upset by him frequently running away to solve cases than over his massive lie. Shinichi felt grateful for her not breaking up with him, though their argument was settled under one condition: she keeps a very close eye on him. At least he finally gets to spend more time with her as himself this time.

He also owes Ran his life after the Black Organization’s defeat. Shinichi initially refused to get her involved. She instead was persistent and unwilling to listen. Never will she make the mistake of letting him run into danger alone again. His fast reflexes and her karate skills helped them escape a deadly kidnapping.

All this thinking makes Shinichi dose off and take a nap. In his sleep, he envisions Ran and himself strapped together, roped by their arms and waists and their backs turned away from one another. Ran lets out a soft cry, “Shinichi. I don’t want to die.” “Don’t say that,” he whispers. “Look, I have a plan. What we will do is —ah!” Gin appears out of nowhere, interrupting his speech before point a gun to his chest and forcing the poison on him again. He shoots and runs away before Shinichi could fight for Ran and himself. His vision is now blurred, and Ran is nowhere to be felt. He whimpers, and right when he becomes concerned about his body shrinking again, he wakes up sweating and screaming.

“Shinichi!” Concerned, Ran immediately darts towards the living room and sits on the edge of the couch. Shinichi’s eyes widened. He jitters, pants, and looks around in all directions before throwing himself at Ran with a tight embrace. She silently smiles and begins stroking his back. “Shhh! There! It’s okay. It’s okay,” Ran whispers before kissing his hair. He moves up and rests his face against her left shoulder. She eventually presses his back as a cue to change positions. “Hmm...please don’t leave,” Shinichi whispers. Ran responds, “Of course not! I just want to adjust myself.” “Oh!”

They settle down. Shinichi turns the TV off and begins talking: “Ran, I just had a nightmare about us. The Black Organization kidnapped us. Gin shot me and left me for dead once more. I couldn’t hear you, and I swore I was going to turn into Conan again. My first encounter with the Organization left me scared for my life. Scared for you too. Scared they would hurt you. I’m sorry again for everything. If I could take back this past year, I would. I betrayed you. I’d stop myself from leaving you behind back in Tropical Land. Back when I was Conan-kun, I wished you knew everything, but it would hurt you. I was also told not to tell you. Agasa-hakase and Haibara —”

“Ai-chan?”

“Yeah, her,” Shinichi continued. She even aimed a gun at me at the hospital after you donated blood to treat my gunshot wound. Or so I thought. It was a fake gun concealing a small bouquet of flowers. She scared me into not telling you about the Organization or Conan-kun’s true identity. I don’t blame her. That girl was really scared. She would panic any time she sensed their presence. Honestly, I was scared too, only better at hiding it. I didn’t want you to ever see me suffering and turning into Conan or get suspicious, discover everything on your own, and get yourself into deep trouble. Sorry again for getting you into this mess.”

“Don’t apologize,” Ran started. “I trust you. I knew you were hurting but couldn’t tell me for some some reason. I waited for the day you’d return and tell me everything face-to-face. When you first left, I’d sometimes think you were out fooling around with other women. But that’s not you. You were pretty close to me before that incident. You, the Deduction Freak, always talking to me about Holmes or the case of the day. Still, you changed since leaving. I sensed it though our phone calls and in Conan-kun.”

He remarked, “Conan was a new experience. I think it provided opportunities. I met the Shonen Tantei-dan, Hattori, Haibara, Akai-san, and so on. I also gained the courage to confess my feelings to you. Anyway, it’s nice to be back. I missed you.”

“I missed you too. I’m glad you’re back. Well, the miso soup is almost ready. Want to help me prepare the table?”

Shinichi replies with a grin, “Sure, Ran-neechan!”

“Here we go again! You can’t get away with your Conan-kun act this time.”

“Haha! I kid, I kid,” Shinichi joked. He smiled in Ran’s direction. “Let’s do this. I’m hungry!”

#dcmk #shinran #shinran fanfic #more shinran goodies #dcmk fanfic #i hope you like it

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krabmeat · 3 years

Note

heyyyy, just wanteddd too seee ifff youu cooulddd writteee sommmeee karlll x time!travel readerrrrr, itt coouuullddd beee flufff orr anggssttt. whateeeveerrr youuu wantttt :] (morreeeee iiinnnffooo: reeaddderrr allsooo hasss the abillitttyyy to time travelll and karlll and themmm manageeedd tooo bump intoo each otherrr innn the innbetweeeennnn. bothhh offff themm telll storries aboutttt theiir adventuresss tooo one anotherrr and arreee having a gennuinely goooddd timme! tttheeeyyyy meeet agggainn in theeee lllooosssttt cittttyyyy offff mizzzuuuuu annnnddd youuu caannn dooo whatteeeveerrrr affftteerrr thhhatttt)

sorrryyy fooor myyyy tyyyypingggg ssstyyyleeeee (cccaaaannnn i beeeeeee "beeeee annnooonnnnn" bbbutttt wiithouttt theeee draggged outtt letttterrrssss? I ussseeeeeee beeeee/aviannnn/hiveeeee/boottttleeeesssss prrroooonnnnnouuunnsssss)

𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚍𝚍𝚒𝚎𝚜

𝙺𝚊𝚛𝚕 𝚡 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚛!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 (𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚌)

𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜: Karl(Isaac), Ranboo(Charles), Dream(Ranbob), BadBoyHalo(Benjamin), Quackity(Cletus)

𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚜: they/them

𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: brief mention of suggestive content, death, murder, explosions, glass breaking, cursing, weapons, water

𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎:

I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS HOLY CRAP!!! firstly, welcome "bee anon" (bee/avian/hive/bottles) to my account! its lovely to have you here and thank you so much for the request! i hope this adds up to what you imagined and i hope you stick around! :]]

--------------------------

The In-Between. Any entity that normally roamed around there knew the place well. If you visited there, you visited often. Karl regularly roamed around the in between. The only face he saw there was his. Karl’s from different timelines traveled to the In-Between as well, but ever since he had found those ominous books that told him to steer clear of the “alternate Karl’s”, that’s exactly what he did. So seeing a new face there while roaming the brick-white palace startled him.

The stranger didn’t even get the chance to introduce themselves when Karl briskly grabs them by the arm and starts running to the room under the tree.

“Woah-! Wait are you-“

But before the mystery person can finish their sentence, Karl cuts them off as quickly as possible.

“SSHHHH! Please hold on a second, I’ll let you know when you can talk.”

The mystery person nods and stays silent as they make their way under the big tree.

Once they arrive, Karl flops to the ground exhausted from the running.

“It’s the safest down here, no one can see what we’re doing. But that’s besides the point! Who the heck are you and how did you get here?!”

The mystery person slides down against the wall and onto the floor besides him. They think for a second, trying to recall how they had arrived.

“I’m Y/n, I’m a time traveler and somehow I got HERE instead of the place I was planning on going to. I was walking around and I saw a bunch of the alternate versions of you around the place but I figured that if one of them were to- yknow, drag me away and under the tree, that’d be the one I’d need to talk to that isn’t a fake.”

Karl nods in understanding before he realizes.

“Wait- how did you know about the safety room being under the tree? Or the ‘alternate’ me’s not actually being from other realities?”

Y/n looks at Karl with a deadpan expression and leans back into the wall. They swing their arms out in front of them for dramatic effect.

“Well duh, I have an in between! You aren’t the only one, yknow. Did you get a bunch of those creepy, contradicting books from all around the place? The one that told me the useful information was in all caps, and the other one was talking about how great the place is and constantly used smiles. Not the traditional one though, like, it used the brackets instead of the parenthesis.”

Karl shoots up in surprise, they had gotten those too?! He was never aware that there were other time travelers that existed, let alone were able to get into other peoples in between! He nods, eager to ask them questions.

“So, where were you planning on going? You said you didn’t mean to come here, right?”

Y/n nods, remembering where they were trying to go previously.

“Yeah! I forgot the name, but I know that it’s some place underwater. An abandoned city or something. Enough about me though, one of the main reasons we both time travel is to tell stories, right? So tell me about the places you’ve been! Also, what’s your name? You got mine but I never got yours.”

“Ah, right- I’m Karl-!”

Karl turned around and flipped up his hoodie to show his light gray initials embedded onto the white hoodie. Y/n had a long, white robe with vine-like accents on the hems. The ends of the sleeves had Y/n’s initials on them as well.

“Well… the first place I’ve ever visited was this place I like to call….’The Town That Went Mad’! Ever play the video game ‘Town Of Salem’? It was basically that and I was like the host of it, sorta.”

Karl proceeded to explain the different personas and people to Y/n, there were people like Cornelius the Wise, Helga, Miles Memeington, Mayor Jimmy- Helgas husband, Robin the Orphan, Bob (he’s a builder, yknow), Catboy (very deep voice, no one knows why but it’s a strange contrast to the ears and tail. Mutant or furry??), and Jack the Farmer. He explained from how the orphan had tricked the entire town that he was a murderer when he was instead the Jester, to explaining what the word “dunderhead” meant in Helgas context after explaining how she ruthlessly and openly got her husband executed and then soon proceeded to sleep with Bob.

Both of them were crying tears of laughter, listening and recalling their own stories. By the time Karl had finished telling his story, Y/n was on the ground wheezing from how funny they thought the story was.

“And your telling me they all just, DIED?! That’s so anticlimactic, I love it!”

It’s been maybe 3 hours or so of them discussing stories and laughing. As much as these two travel across the fabrics of the universe, they would have never imagined being able to finally tell someone about their travels and experiences!

Y/n then started talking about a Sky Dynasty that lived up in the clouds in a kingdom called The Kingdom Of Synnefa. When they had dropped in, they would have fallen straight through the clouds if a kind man by the name of Galen hadn’t found them hanging off a building ledge for their dear life! Galen let Y/n drop into his wagon and he took them to get Skywalkers, shoes specifically make for walking on clouds.

Y/n had then explained how a very old looking man who looked to be a pig hybrid approached them, asking them if they were new. Apparently the old pig man was the guardian of the Grand Library, saying how he adored the Kingdoms Greek history and fables. The funny part is that his name is Icarus, a very unfortunate demise that Icarus had in the past but apparently that was a sensitive subject for Icarus and he would get very upset if anyone brought it up.

Another 3 hours went by of this time Y/n telling their stories of their travels to The Kingdom Of Synnefa! Both Karl and Y/n were having a wonderful time chatting with one another about both the confusing rivalries between the carnivores and herbivores of the kingdom, as well as how the kingdom was slowly dying due to the mass amounts of pollution damage the “ground dwellers” have been inflicting on The Kingdom Of Synnefa.

Soon though, Y/n had to jump into their next travels- as well as Karl. They said their goodbyes to each other, both obviously upset about having to stop the fun and interesting chat.

“Look, when I leave I’ll figure out how I got in, okay? If I don’t figure it out, it’s been a real pleasure Karl Jacobs. Anyways, off to the abandoned water city I go!”

Karl nods and waves his hands frantically at them, eager and hopeful for Y/n to visit him again.

“See ya around Y/n!”

Y/n then proceeds to take out a small book and pen from inside their robe. They open it and quickly scribble something down before closing it and putting away. Y/n gives Karl a last friendly smile before disappearing in a snap. Before that, they manage to give him one last message.

“Hopefully!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Isaac wakes up in his bed by the sea docks. Meeting what seems to be his friends and roommates, Benjamin, Cletus, Charles and Monroe. Distant arguing can be heard from the docks. One of the voices sound oddly more familiar than the others to Isaac. Isaac walks over to the dock and finds two people arguing.

“What’s going on here? Why are you guys arguing so early in the morning!”

The two people stand up and point at each other.

“MONROE DOESNT GIVE ME BACK THE F*CKING FISHING ROD!”

“BECAUSE THE LAST TIME YOU CAUGHT A FISH YOU KILLED IT, CLETUS!”

Monroe? Their voice sounds oddly similar to someone else’s, but Isaac can’t quite put his finger on it. He looks down ignoring the minor situation, when he sees a small leather book- then it clicks. Monroe is Y/n! But before Isaac confronts Monroe (Y/n), he picks up the small leather book. It isn’t the one that Y/n had when they left Karl’s In-Between, but it instead had what looked like the directions and coordinates for The Lost City Of Mizu!

“CHARLES! GET THE F*CK OVER HERE SO YOU CAN GUIDE US TO THESE COORDS!!”

Charles walks out of the shared dockside house alongside Benjamin, I hand him the book and start heading for the boats when Monroe stops me. They whisper loud enough so that I can only hear.

“Karl? Is that you?”

“Y/n?! You recognize me!”

We get on the same boat while the others get on theirs as well, and set off following Charles to The Lost City Of Mizu.

“Okay first, we call each other Isaac and Monroe, okay? Don’t break character.”

“I don’t even know HOW I remember! Usually I don’t until I leave!”

“Well that doesn’t matter right now, just try to act like Isaac and not Karl.”

And that’s what they did. Karl was Isaac and Y/n was Monroe.

Once they found The Lost City Of Mizu, they met a man named Ranbob. Ranbob was the last resident of the city, and offered to show the group around. Rooms and rooms of full on history! It was like a huge museum filled with information of a place Ranbob called The Dream SMP, and Karl and Y/n were eating it up. Ranbob had suddenly disappeared, but the group didn’t pay much mind of it as they were trying to get into the Tree Dome.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Tree Dome room was as marvelous as it was big. The tree was absolutely beautiful, and was also the supply of oxygen for the now abandoned city- though the tree still looks to be thriving tremendously. The group spots a chest on the tree and nominates Cletus to go and retrieve it. Branch after branch and he’s finally up there! But soon after fallen and blown into oblivion because in suddenly appears Ranbob with loads and loads on TNT. Placing it all around the tree and the room, all he says is

“No one survives when they come here.”

And

BOOM!

He sets off the TNT in the tree, Cletus. Before he died, Cletus luckily tossed the group the book he essentially died for so before reading it, the group ran out of the room and shut the iron doors.

The rest of the group had also found a book that had a key to a “Secret Room”, and very soon after they were making they’re way down a certain “Secret Room” only to be met with another book and a room to the side full of lava parkour. Apparently the last person to try and make it past the lava parkour failed, but they know the key or next clue HAS to be there, so Benjamin is nominated to do the lava parkour, failing and falling into the lava on the final step. Bravely after watching his friend die, Isaac (Karl) decides he’s gonna take a go at the parkour, and succeeds! He gets the key and directions to the final room before they can escape and heads to the final room with Monroe and Charles.

The final room is...strange, to say the least. Black brick walls and flooring, the walls lined with diamond armour and weapons. At the end of the small hallway rested what looked like a terrarium. One of the walls were made of glass so they could look in, and what they saw wasn’t what they were expecting. A normal flat biome with grass blocks, a mini cave in the corner that had a few gold ores in it if you looked hard enough, and the strangest of all was the statue of a looming, smiling, green figure in the very center.

“Everyone had a person they idolized.”

Ranbob suddenly appears, interrupting the 3 taking in the room.

“Ranbob? Dude what the f*ck?!”

Y/n reaches for one of the diamond axes lining the wall, when suddenly Ranbob unsheathes a netherite sword.

“Don’t touch anything.”

That’s enough to get Y/n to back up from both the weapons AND Ranbob.

“How are you even here? We thought you DIED!”

But Ranbob didn’t seem to be bothered nor wanted to be bothered by such minuscule questions, and instead walked towards the glass of the terrarium.

“This is my idol. His name is Dream.”

“Was he a good person..?”

Karl questioned hesitantly. He didn’t wanna anger or irritate Ranbob after seeing what he said to Y/n.

“Hmm, yes, he’s a good person. Depending on what you think.”

Karl walks up to the glass and shatters an opening with his elbow. He, Charles and Y/n step into the terrarium, observing the statue and its habitat more closely. But they didn’t get the chance to say much more. Ranbob unsheathes his sword for the last time, trapping everyone inside the terrarium.

“No one makes it out alive.”

GASP!

“What the- where are we?”

…

“Y/n…? Y/n! Your back!”

#tales of the smp #lost city of mizu #time travel #bee anon #fluff #x reader #mcyt x reader #reader insert #dsmp

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not-so-mundane-after-all · 3 years

Text

Alright, so- Inspired by my awesome friend @undertheknightwing who created this AMAZING list of Dad!Dick Grayson headcanons (go check it out!!!) I decided to write down the mess I have in my own head into this giant ball of fluff, humor and angst.

So let me present you:

The Graysonfam List of Headcanons and Analysis

It's a looong ass list of my headcanons, mixed with an analysis of some scenes, looking into the motives and behavior of the characters. It's in more or less chronological order and divides into groups: season 1 (+2x01), the time jump, season 2, season 3 hopes/predictions and future. If you want me to turn any of these into fics or you feel like you could do something with it, just let me know. And now... ENJOY!

SEASON 1:

The first time Dick thinks of Gar and Rachel as his kids happens during the events of 1x08 and 1x10. It's pure instinct and it doesn't come to him until much later when he realizes that not only he thought of them this way but he actually meant it.

When he and Donna start translating Kory's notes and it becomes clear that Rachel might still be in trouble, he's immediately on his feet, asking Donna for the keys to her car and ordering her to take the books with her, so they could continue on the way. He's acting fast, ignoring Donna's questions because there's no time for explanation, my daughter is in danger. He almost says it out loud - almost.

When Donna tells him the danger clearly comes from Kory, he wants to deny it. Kory adores these kids just as much as he does, she would never hurt them. But he puts his feet on the gas anyway, breaking every speed limit possible, because if one hair falls from Gar's and Rachel's heads, he will burn the world to find the person responsible, even if it's Kory (especially if it's Kory)

When they get there the first thing he sees is Gar being thrown in the air, and his mind short circuits to only one thing: Gar, my boy, my son. Is he okay? Thankfully Donna takes care of the rest so he's free to take care of the boy. He pulls him up, holding him tight by the shoulders and makes sure he's okay, but the words 'my son' are still circling his mind.

Speaking of Donna - when Dick starts telling her about Rachel the first time, she wants to cry from happiness. Over these past five years all she saw in Dick's eyes was pain and suffering. A storm of bottled up emotions, raging monsters of anger ready to get out. His body looked weighed down, as if he was Atlas holding the world on his shoulders. And now he's talking about this little girl who threw a brick at a cop car in Detroit and his eyes start to shine as if they were stars in the night sky. His smile grows when he brags about how smart and witty she is, how she's more intelligent than she gives herself credit for, how similar the two of them are. He talks about her bravery and her big heart and he sounds so damn proud Donna's heart is about to burst out of her chest. "I thought I couldn't do it." he tells her. "I fucked up so many times. But she had awakened something in me. I just can't describe it." She can but she doesn't say it - he needs to get to it on his own. (Over a year later, when the girl who turned her brother's world upside down tries to guide her back to the light through the darkness of afterlife, Donna finally says "I always knew he'd be a great father someday. You have no idea how much he loves you." "He told you that?" Rachel asks quietly, trying to hold back her tears. Donna looks at her and smiles. "He didn't have to. I saw it in his eyes.")

Then Dick gets to the part about finding Rachel's mother and suddenly something changes. He's trying to seem like he's happy for her, he says he's glad everything ended well and now Rachel can start a new life but Donna sees right through his facade. He thinks he can't be a part of this new life and it's killing him.

Which brings me to something very important I've noticed a long time ago - Angela's presence makes Dick hold himself back. That's why he decided to leave - Rachel had her mother back, a guardian who could take care of her from now on so he wasn't needed anymore. His job was done. But at this point he's already too attached to just leave like that and when he learns that danger isn't over he comes back immediately. But when he gets there he's met with a wall. Angela is very territorial (we all know why but Dick didn't know that) and Rachel is too overwhelmed by everything but let's be real - if Angela wasn't there Dick would be hovering over Rachel like crazy. But he doesn't. Why? Because he thinks it's not his place to do so. It's easier to go after Kory than to just be standing there awkwardly, wanting to help and comfort but not being able to.

He remembers everything Trigon put him through - every fucking detail. There is some stuff from the vision he wants to laugh at - Him and Dawn? Married? Maybe once upon a time he entertained that thought but he abandoned it long ago. There are things he's actually grateful for - seeing Gar and Rachel as they could be in the future, grown up, in college, happy. That's the one thing he doesn't want to forget. And Johnny - he doesn't want to forget Johnny either.

His mind was sort of awake, in two places at once, even though he didn't have any control over his body. He remembers chasing the kids around the house, Gar screaming "Real life horror movie!" as he and Rachel tried to run away from him. He remembers Rachel pleading with him when the others were beating the poor boy. He wanted to respond, wanted to let her know he can hear her but he couldn't do anything. He watched helplessly as his own hand pulled Gar up and finished what others started. He screamed and shouted but it was in vain. And then he cried and howled like a wolf watching as Trigon ripped Rachel's heart from her chest and crushed it in his hand, then placed the red gemstone in her forehead. He remembers her dark eyes and evil smirk. He remembers thinking it was over, feeling heartbroken and defeated. He gave up, let the darkness swallow him whole. He didn't want to see more, it was easier locking himself up in this vision because he knew Bruce laying dead in rubble wasn't real. And then she came to him. Back straight and head held high, piercing blue eyes locked on him. He remembers his tone when he spoke to her, taunting and dangerous but it didn't scare her. "We're supposed to save each other" she told him and he wanted to cry but Trigon had him wrap his fingers around her throat and choke her - another thing he would never do. He would never lay a damn finger on her and Trigon was well aware of that. But Rachel knew that too. And she wasn't scared.

He remembers the circus she brought him into. Empty stage, broken chairs scattered everywhere. He never wanted to come back here. And even though his body stood there motionless he was trashing inside, wanting to get out of here but more importantly wanting to get her out of here. Seeing Rachel on that platform, ready to jump, it was too much. He couldn't lose her, like he lost his parents. He didn't catch them but he sure as hell was going to catch her. So when she fell - he snapped. Got the control back, his muscles acted on memory and he jumped. He flew like he used to and wrapped his fingers around her wrists, holding her tight. He caught her. He would always catch her.

When they wake up all he wants to do is hold her. Relief almost sends him to his knees. But then Gar walks in, all bloody and bruised and all that relief turns into freezing agony and guilt. I did this, he thinks. It's my fault. But there is no time for apologies or explanation, Trigon is still there. Letting Rachel go deal with him on her own is hard but Dick knows she could do it - and she did. Seeing her walking out of that fog is one of the most beautiful views he saw in his life. And when he finally takes her into his arms he doesn't let go until Kory basically rips her out of his embrace.

He wants Kory to go with them. Kids need her. His idea of giving Gar and Rachel a new life included her. Included both of them, taking care of the kids together. Things between them are tangled and complicated but one thing that is neither of those things is their attachment to these two. But Kory just got her memories back, she has her own issues to deal with, she needs time and space - and he respects that, so do Gar and Rachel. But Dick would be lying if he said he didn't notice their disappointment.

The first day of their roadtrip across the country is quiet - mostly because they are all so goddamn tired. Dick pulls up to a motel before dark, deciding that the more sleep they get the better. They pick two rooms next to each other, Jason and Gar in one, he and Rachel in the other. Rachel immediately vanishes in the bathroom, so Dick has time to sit down and think (as if he wasn't doing it the entire day while driving). An idea is shaping in his head, memories of a beloved city in sunny California come to the surface of his mind and he knows this is where he wants to take the kids. But he has to make a stop at Gotham first, he needs to talk to Bruce and most importantly return Jason home. Rachel walks out of the bathroom in fresh clothes Donna left for her and crawls into bed without a word. He takes his time to tuck her in, then sits down on the edge of her bed. She's beyond exhausted, but she's safe, she's with him, everything will be alright. He will never let anyone take her away from him again. And when he's watching her fall asleep, holding her hand in his, three words come to his mind, words he's not ready to say aloud yet but he knows them to be true. I love you.

THE TIME JUMP:

Physical affection is something I think the show is pretty good at showing but I still crave to see more. It's clear that Dick struggles to be affectionate, whether that be through words or touch. And he doesn't even realize he's actually very good at it. Why? Because whenever he does it, he's acting on instinct. The biggest proof? All his hugs with Rachel in s1. Boy had no idea what to do, it was written on his face, but his arms went up nonetheless. He didn't freeze, he didn't push her away, but reacted accordingly. The hugs in 1x02 and 1x04 are the only ones he initiated on his own, but he still wasn't sure if he's doing it right. As the show went on he slowly eased into it, but was still taken by surprise when it happened (1x08, the first hug in 2x01). By the end of 2x01 he seems to be pretty comfortable with it but I think it's during the time jump when he really starts to understand the importance and power of physical affection and how these kids really need it. The pat he gave Gar on the shoulder in 2x03 or their hug in 2x09 felt really natural, same as the goodbye hug with Rachel in 2x13. All three of them got comfortable with each other during those first three months in SF. Which leads me to…

Cuddle sessions. Yes, this is definitely a thing at Titans Tower (*cough*Grayson*cough*household*cough). It starts that first night when Dick, Rachel, Gar and Jason gather on the couch to watch a movie. Rachel lays down and rests her head on Dick's thigh while Gar settles comfortably on his other side. Dick has no idea when it happened but he freezes for a moment when he realizes his hand is on Rachel's head, fingers carding through her hair. The girl seems to be asleep already but stirs when he stops and asks him to continue, so he does. Soon after that Gar's head lands on his shoulder as the boy starts nodding off. The sudden contact wakes him up and he pulls away awkwardly, apologizing but Dick tells him it's okay so Gar leans back against him. The feeling of having the two of them so close brings a sense of calm to Dick and soon he falls asleep as well. He wakes up in the morning with the two teenagers basically laying on top of him and Jason standing over them with a smirk and a phone in his hand.

After that it sort of becomes a thing and not just during movies. Whenever Dick sits down on the couch, whether to work or to simply relax, Gar or Rachel (or both) would find him and snuggle to him, at first hesitantly, but with more confidence as the time passes and they get comfortable with it. After three months of living together all Dick has to do is pat the spot next to him for them to jump on the couch and cuddle up, tho Rachel is the one who does it most often and with no hesitation.

Dick very quickly starts understanding how important it is for them so he starts returning the favor. A good job pat on the shoulder during training, a kiss dropped on the top of the head during breakfast, a comforting shoulder rub when they aren't feeling well, emotionally or physically. Gar loves when Dick ruffles his hair, he even leans into it sometimes, while Rachel's favorite things are forehead kisses and tucking her hair behind her ear (but neither of them would ever say that out loud)

Words are as important as gestures, which brings us to affectionate pet names. It feels normal and almost ordinary when it comes from a woman - Rachel has been called 'honey' by Melisa and 'sweetheart' by Dawn but she wasn't phased by it. But when Dick calls her 'honey' for the first time, she nearly drops her coffee mug. It comes out so naturally and he doesn't even realize he said it, but it takes her breath away and she needs a moment to collect herself. With Gar it's usually 'Bud', 'Buddy', or 'Tiger Boy' spoken affectionately and he's always beaming with happiness when he hears Dick saying that.

One night, shortly after Trigon, Rachel slips into his bedroom in the middle of the night, saying she can't sleep. The memories are too vivid, too real. Her lips are trembling and she looks like she's about to fall apart and that's all it takes for Dick to sit up, open his arms for her and with full awareness and conviction say "come here, baby girl". She falls asleep snuggled to his bare chest and Dick feels his throat getting dangerously tight. He'd seen many times, mostly on TV, images of parents holding their babies to their bare skin - something about creating a bond through skin-to-skin contact. He was never able to wrap his head around this concept, but now, as he feels Rachel's cheek pressed to his heart, her hand closed in his resting on his stomach, the understanding hits him like a speeding train, pushing a tear or two out of his eyes. It's something indescribable, feels profound and almost sacred. The love he feels in this moment is overwhelming.

Gar has nightmares too, he usually wakes up screaming. It scares Dick at first, how he reacts, because the boy pulls away, wide eyed and shaking, and doesn't want to be touched. Guilt overwhelms Dick because he's sure it's because of him, because of what he did to Gar while being under Trigon's control. He tries to apologize and Gar accepts it but explains to him that his nightmares are not Dick's fault and they are not even about that (Dick can feel the boy is lying for both of their sakes but lets him anyway). It takes a few tries and lots of pleading and building trust but one night Gar finally falls into Dick's arms, sobbing into his shoulder. He pulls the boy close, runs his fingers through his hair just like Gar likes it and whispers "it's okay, my little boy." over and over again until Gar's body goes limp in his hold and he can put him back to sleep. Neither of them mentions it in the morning, but Gar gives him a look full of gratitude, filling his heart with warmth.

One evening during their first week in SF they organise a 'bonding night' - Gar's idea. There's take out and board games and staying up all night, talking. At some point one of them suggests sharing any hidden talents (besides superpowers of course) and details no one knows about them. Jason admits to being a theatre nerd ("it's thespian you idiots!") and proves it by flawlessly rapping verses from Hamilton. Gar thanks to travelling with his parents can fluently speak few African languages, he also shares that during his time at the Doom Manor Rita taught him the basics of playing piano. When it's Dick's turn he gets up from the couch and vanishes for a few minutes, but eventually comes back with a guitar, saying he had learned to play during his circus days, but hadn't done it in a while so he might be a little rusty. He plays a few cords, trying to spark his memory and when the notes finally come to him, a beautiful melody fills the room (I always imagine it's Viva la Vida by Coldplay). And suddenly this melody is joined by an angelic voice - Rachel closes her eyes and starts singing quietly, recognizing the song. She only opens her eyes when she's finished and finds the three of them looking at her in absolute awe, Dick's eyes seem to be a bit watery. She gets a bit embarrassed and says it's nothing but they start cheering and clapping anyway. Gar asks her where did she learn to sing like that and she admits she used to sing in a church choir when she was little, but had to quit after her powers started showing. The night ends with a little jam session and lots of laughing.

Gar and Rachel grew up on golden era of Disney Channel shows (Jason knows them too but he'd rather be tortured than ever admit that) and once the news is out Dick is forced to sit through the entire run of Wizards of Waverly Place. But watching Rachel flawlessly impersonate the main character Alex, knowing every line word for word makes him grin like a madman and laugh so hard his stomach hurts and tears roll down his cheeks. He pulls her to him and she falls on him in a fit of uncontrollable giggles while Gar and Jason give her a standing ovation.

SEASON 2:

While hanging out together is important, Dick also makes sure he gets to spend some time with each of them separately. With Jason it's mostly through training - the boy isn't very keen on spending one-on-one quality time outside of the gym, but prides himself to be Dick's right hand man during lessons, having more experience over the other two. With Gar it's video games most of the time - Dick learned to play specifically for him and actually started paying attention to gaming lore. But it's not just that - Gar has a talent to anything tied to technology so they spend a lot of time together in the tech room where the boy learns to operate the Tower system. It brings both of them a lot of joy. Rachel, as the only girl in their little family, often needs some time away from the boys, so Dick takes her on walks in the mornings or a drive around the city, shows her his favorite coffee shop which soon becomes their favorite spot. They talk about everything and nothing, because conversations were the thing that brought them so close in the first place, and it just feels good.

Rachel also loves spending time with him in the tech room - but not like Gar, she's not learning to run it (although she picked up a thing or two) but she's simply there to keep Dick company while he works (can he even call that work if he hasn't been officially working as a detective for quite a while now? Not to mention his resignation has been sent to Detroit the day they arrived in SF). She brings him coffee or snacks, stands behind his chair with her arms around his neck, observing whatever he's doing (and asking lots of questions) or simply sits in the other swiveling chair, drawing in her sketchbook or turning around so many times Dick starts to worry she's gonna get dizzy. He asks her one time if she's not bored sitting here with him but she just shrugs and says she'd rather be here than anywhere else and his heart grows tenfold as he smiles at her

So remember how Rachel lost control and attacked Jason in 2x03? And how Jason shouted "Stay away from me you fucking freak!" right in her face? And how Dick walks in like 3 seconds later asking if everything's okay and the tension is HIGH??? Well, he might have not seen what happened, but he definitely HEARD the full thing, he was within the hearing range. The fact that he didn't attack Jason immediately is really impressive, if this was s1!Dick - Jason would be on the floor right now, probably with a swollen eye and few broken bones. But here Dick is trying to play it smart and investigate. If it wasn't for dr Light he would probably get to the bottom of this and had a conversation with both Jason and Rachel. I'm thinking of writing a one-shot AU where he actually does it (mostly thanks to Gar who is a terrible liar when caught of guard)

When the last cab drives away and the Tower becomes empty, save for him, Gar and that boy in the infirmary, Dick does not leave to meet with Adeline immediately - he goes to Rachel's room and starts scrubbing it clean from all the crosses painted all over the place. His eyes are burning, the bile in his throat is the size of a tennis ball but he doesn't allow himself to cry. At some point Gar joins him and wordlessly starts helping him. It takes them a little over an hour and when it's done they both drop down on her bed, sitting shoulder to shoulder. "She'll be back." Gar tells him. "I'm not so sure." Dick replies, not looking at the boy. Gar puts a hand on his shoulder. "She will. You just wanted to protect us. Deep down she knows that, she's just angry." Dick knows Gar's reasoning is valid, but looking at his own reflection in the broken mirror he can't help but think that in the long run Rachel will be better off without him. They will all be better off without him.

It's not until his first night in prison that Dick starts to regret his decision to cast himself away. He wakes up in the middle of the night with tears in his eyes, his mind still reeling from dreams of Gar and Rachel seven years in the future. They were adults, happy and independent - that's good, right? That's what he always wanted for them. But his tears start to fall when it comes to him, hitting him like a wrecking ball, that spending 7 years behind bars means he won't be able to see them grow up. Something like a panic attack comes next and he is barely able to pull himself out of it. He's suddenly overwhelmed by questions. My kids… will they be okay? Is Kory back at the Tower or is Gar still alone? What is he gonna do when that strange boy wakes up? Was there any food in the fridge when I left? I left Gar some money, but still… God, and Rachel! She has never been on a plane before, what if she gets scared and her powers start acting out? What if she gets night terrors again? Will Donna know what to do? His head is spinning, these thoughts are suffocating him. Only a breathing exercise Bruce had taught him years ago is able to help, but it takes longer than usual. Dick doesn't sleep for the rest of the night.

He's not sure how but when Dick sees a bird in a window of his cell, he knows it's no ordinary bird. It's a raven. It's her. He gets up on his feet despite his knees being weak and wobbly and he smiles, grins like an idiot as he calls out to her. Because it has to be her, right? But all hope leaves him when the creature flies up again with a croak and disappears from his sight, leaving him alone. Dick drops to his knees, feeling more exhausted than ever and curls on the floor, his body shaking from shivers. No one is coming. He brought it on himself. He is forgotten already. But then he hears quiet tapping and something nudges his hand. He opens one eye only to look right into a ruby red one. The bird is here, inside, right in front of his face. It flaps its wings and its feathers turns into dark smoke for a moment. "Rachel…" He breathes out, holding to his last shreds of consciousness. The raven lowers its head, snuggling it to his forehead and before Dick passes out again he hears three words said by this quiet, angelic voice he loves so much: Don't give up.

When they bring Donna back to the Tower and lay her down in the infirmary Dick feels empty and overflowed at the same time. He goes to strip off his new suit and change into something more comfortable but it's a struggle when his hands are shaking so much. He goes back to infirmary and passes by Dawn in the doorway, who walks out of the room with Donna's Wonder Girl belt in hand, not even lifting her eyes up at him. He closes the door and sits down, taking Donna's hand in his but he is able to sit there for only ten minutes before the feeling of her hand growing cold in his makes him want to run away. He makes his way back to his room but takes a step back when he notices two colorful heads in the training room. Gar and Rachel are sitting on one of the benches with their backs to him, talking quietly. Gar is hunched over and Rachel has her arm around him and her head on his shoulder. The sight makes Dick's throat tight. He walks up to them quietly and they only notice him when he's standing in front of them. They simultaneously lift their heads up, showing him their red, swollen from crying eyes and his heart can't take it anymore. He falls to his knees in front of them. "I'm here." he whispers as he takes their hands in his. "I'm right here." he whispers again and his voice breaks. Suddenly two sets of arms are wrapped around him when both Gar and Rachel throw themselves at him, sobbing into his shoulders. He holds them tight, kisses their heads and lets his own tears fall into their hair as he keeps promising them he is not leaving them ever again.

SEASON 3 HOPES/PREDICTIONS:

First few weeks without Donna and Rachel are absolute torture. Grief is normal, he's been through it before, it's nothing new (maybe more painful and guilt-ridden than he ever experienced). But not having Rachel around and how it impacts him on day-to-day basis after spending every day with her for the past few months is something totally new and unexpected and Dick is pretty sure he's never felt like this before. He's overprotective to the point of being overbearing and Gar points that out to him numerous times. He keeps making her breakfast, forgetting she's not gonna show up in the kitchen when the clock strikes 9 am. He keeps looking into her room like he's expecting to find her there. He constantly checks his phone as if she were able to call from Themyscira, where there's no signal, let alone phones. "Is it what sending your kid out to college feels like?" Hank asks him one evening and Dick almost chokes on his beer. Gar laughs so hard he falls off his chair.

Rachel does everything she can to not cry in front of Dick when they say goodbye to each other but the moment the plane is in the air, she breaks. It was one of the hardest decisions she ever had to make and seeing Dick so broken definitely didn't help. But she has to at least try to bring Donna back, she wouldn't be able to forgive herself otherwise. So she gets herself together and keeps telling herself to be brave. For Dick. For Donna. For her family.

Gar becomes the center of family's attention and he can't say he doesn't love it. That spot always belonged to Rachel after all, but he was never jealous, nor he resented her for that. She totally deserved it and she can take the spot back when she returns (but he's never gonna let her get away with not saying goodbye to him). He's the 'A-Student' now during training, Dick is putting some extra work to make sure he learns as much as he can. Kory helps him a lot with the trauma CADMUS gave him and works with him on the development of his powers. He tries turning into other animals and after a month of struggling he finally turns into a mouse. Kory walks with him sitting on his shoulder around the whole Tower like the proudest mama in the galaxy and Dick's beaming with pride for the entire week.

After Dick's off-hand comment that Rachel is missing on so much Gar starts to record vlogs on his phone about what's happening at the Titans Tower so Rachel can watch it and catch up when she's back. The material he gets is pure gold and even when others beg him to delete it, he refuses saying this is too good to be destroyed.

The day before Rachel's first attempt at resurrection she uses a freshly learned trick to come to Dick in his dream. They meet on the beach she's currently on, meditating. Seeing him for the first time in three months makes her want to cry but she promised herself to be strong so he wouldn't worry and she holds her tears at bay. She falls into his arms with the brightest smile and burrows her face in his chest. He's holding her tight, asking if everything is okay and she nods, not quite trusting her voice at the moment. "I can't keep you here for long, but I needed to see you." she tells him. She's not sharing any details about her plan, the less he knows the better, but he begs her to be careful and stop if it turns out to be too much for her. Dick pulls her to him one last time before she has to serve the connection and presses his lips to her forehead. "I love you." he whispers and she closes her eyes, hugging him tighter. "Come home soon." "I love you, too. And I will."

To find Donna's soul Rachel needs to go to The Underworld, which is a dark, scary place (well, for the most part). The search is difficult and the journey ahead of her is long. On her way she meets other people, souls who sometimes want to help her, sometimes otherwise. She sees Adamson and all the people who were after her, drowning in a river of fire, calling for help. One hand grabs her by the ankle and Rachel looks down right into the hollow eyes of her birth mother. She struggles to set herself free from Angela's hold but eventually the creepy hand lets go of her and Rachel runs away. Not all the meetings are painful though. She gets to see Melisa again - she tells her about Dick and Gar and Kory and everything that happened. "I found him, mom. I found the boy from the circus." she says and they both start to cry. Melisa tells her how proud she is and lets her continue her journey. But the most surprising meeting happens right before the end. Rachel knows their faces only from her dream and the blurry videos she found online. But the resemblance to Dick is undeniable - he has his mother's eyes, his father's hair. Mary Grayson takes her into her arms with tears in her eyes, saying how happy she is to finally meet her. They chat for a while, laugh and cry together like they've known each other their whole lives. "He's so lucky to have you." John tells her. "Tell him we're proud of him." Mary asks her when she is about to leave. "And come back to him in one piece." Rachel nods, holding back tears. "I will, I promise."

When Rachel arrives at Wayne Manor it's already dark outside. A black car pulls in the driveway. Dick, Kory and Gar are waiting by the main entrance and when the car stops they approach it and Dick opens the door. Rachel is sleeping in the backseat with her head falling on her shoulder and the view is so beautiful and adorable that Dick stops for a moment to just look at her with a dreamy smile on his face. He lifts his hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and leans in whispering "welcome back, sweetheart". She smiles without opening her eyes and instantly lifts her arms to wrap them around his neck. They both laugh as he pulls her out the car. She steps away from him for a moment to hug Gar and Kory but sticks herself back to his side immediately after. Gar takes her bag and the car drives away while the 4 of them head towards the door.

She failed (or at least she thinks she failed) and that first night back she cries her eyes out into Dick's chest, apologizing over and over again. "It's okay, honey." he tells her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Remember what I told you back at the airport? No matter how strong we are, we-" "We can't always change the world." she finishes for him and smiles through her tears. "I know. I've had those words in the back of my head every day." They lay in silence for the next few minutes, Dick's hand slowly stroking Rachel's hair. She hesitates a bit but then starts telling him about meeting his parents. He smiles at her through tears. "I'm so proud of you." he whispers. "You've grown so much. You're so strong. Going away was a good decision, it gave you skills and experience you wouldn't have gotten here. But now I'm just glad I have you back. I was worried sick." Rachel smiles into his chest. "I'm not going anywhere again."

As happy as Dick is to have her back, some part of him wishes Rachel stayed longer on Themyscira. Everything that's happening in Gotham is making him consider sending her and Gar away to some place safe and hidden, The Justice League has a lot of those. But his kids are Titans - they both remind him of that. "You didn't train us to hide." she tells him. "We can handle this." Gar adds. And Dick believes them. And he's so proud his heart can barely take it.

Donna's return comes as a shock to everyone - Hank brings her to the Wayne Manor one day, saying they bumped into each other at some restaurant in the city. "How-" Rachel asks with eyes opened wide in disbelief. Donna smiles at her. "I don't know. I got lost, but… I found my way back somehow." Dick slowly walks up to her, his eyes welling up with tears. "But the spell-" "It worked." Donna explains. "It just needed more time." After that he sweeps her into his arms and extends his hand to Rachel to pull her in as well. He holds them both as close as he can, kissing their heads and swears to himself to never lose either of them again.

FUTURE:

Thoughts about adoption appear in Dick's mind more or less when he brings Gar and Rachel to San Francisco, but they are more of an abstract dream than something that could be real. But as the time goes on those thoughts become more and more solidified and are too big to be ignored. He finally decides to talk to someone about it and that someone is Dawn, mostly because they've had this kind of conversation before. "It's a big responsibility - taking her in. But taking care of a kid is complicated, you know that better than anyone." These words stay with him every day, that's why he goes to her. He struggles to say what he wants to say but she understands and hugs him with tears in her eyes saying she knew he'd do it sooner or later and that she couldn't be happier for him. She helps him with paperwork and prepares him for meetings. He breaks the news to the kids the moment everything is ready. They're suspicious of the 'gifts' he hands them since it's neither's birthday today and there's no holiday. They share a curious glance as they rip off the shiny gift paper to reveal two folders of documents (while Dick almost dies from anticipation and nerves). Gar is the first one to react - his lips slowly stretch into the biggest grin imaginable. "For real? Are you serious? This is real stuff?" his voice grows louder and more excited with each following question and Dick can't help but laugh. Rachel stays quiet though. She stares at the papers in her hands with her brows furrowed. Seconds pass and she's not moving. It's like she's not even breathing. "Rachel?" Kory asks quietly, taking a step her way. And then the floodgates open. Rachel's face twists into a grimace as she starts sobbing uncontrollably. She covers her mouth with her hand to muffle it but there's no use. Dick walks up to her, terrified he did something wrong but then she throws herself into his arms, repeating "thank you" and "I love you" over and over again. Dick pulls Gar to him as well and hugs them both. "You're my kids." He whispers to them. "I love you more than anything in the world. And nothing will ever change that." By the time of Rachel's 16th birthday she and Gar are officially Graysons.

Dick and Kory get married the following year. It's a glamorous but small ceremony with reception held at the Wayne Manor. For the months leading to the big day the kids (with the help of the entire team and few other people) prepare something very special - and the idea comes from Uncle Clay. Turns out Clay, as the closest friend of Dick's parents, owns a small storage unit where he keeps some of the stuff from the circus, including personal things - like a box of journals of Mary Grayson, who had been writing them since she was a child. Clay tells Gar and Rachel a story about how Mary used to write poetry which then she turned into songs and sometimes performed them at the circus. He even still has some of her stage outfits. The three of them get the idea that Gar and Rachel should look through tapes with her performances and pick one song to sing together at the wedding - and that's what they do. They find a beautiful ballad where Clay accompanied Mary on the piano (he teaches Gar how to play it) and in secret the team prepares the whole show. The performance happens during the Bride and Groom's first dance. Gar enters the stage in a tuxedo, says a few words and starts playing. Dick and Kory start dancing slowly but stop for a moment when he starts singing the first verse. They have no idea what's coming next. Rachel, in Mary's dress stands in the crowd surrounding the couple. Hank comes to stand behind her and secretly puts a microphone in her hand. She comes in for the second verse of the song and that's when Dick and Kory stop dancing completely, too surprised to move. They watch in absolute awe as Rachel joins her brother on stage and they finish the song together. When Dick realizes he actually remembers this song from his childhood and that the dress Rachel is wearing belonged to his mother he breaks down in tears. After the song is over the kids join their parents on the dancefloor for a bone-crushing group hug (and to help you imagine this even better this is the song I imagine them singing)

The day Rachel and Gar get their college acceptance letters is one of the most stressful days in their lives. They're in the Tower's kitchen, both holding the envelopes in their hands, afraid to open them. "What are you guys waiting for? Open it!" Kory encourages them. They agree to do it on three. Dick holds his breath, gripping tight his wife's hand. The kids read the letters, fully focused. There's a stretching moment of silence, and then… "I got in!" "Me too!" A lot of screaming and laughing and jumping around happens afterwards, but even in the chaos of all of that Dick can feel a burning knot tightening in his stomach.

And I thought sending Rachel to Themyscira was hard, Dick thinks when they drop Gar and Rachel off at college on their first day. Thankfully it's the same college, but it's in Chicago and it's still half a country away from home. He's not sure how many times he checked already if they have everything they need, if they haven't forgotten to pack something, if they are absolutely sure they know their schedule and so on. Kory, standing next to him with her hands on her growing belly, laughs at him fussing over them. Gar and Rachel just smile and nod, seeing how stressed he is. Yes, Dad, we're sure we have everything. Yes, we checked. Of course we'll call. Yes, Dad. Okay, Dad - and so on. At some point they all start laughing at the ridiculousness of it all but suddenly Dick is getting choked up. His two little birds are leaving the nest and he should be handling it better than he does. Seeing him clearlyon the edge of falling apart Gar and Rachel give him a tight hug. "I'm sorry." he says. "I'm just trying to let you go a little. Let you grow up." "It's that hard?" Rachel asks him and he looks at her - tall, beautiful, confident, brave and smart. Perfect. But he also still sees that little kid he met in Detroit. "It can't be that hard." Gar adds and for a moment when Dick looks at him he thinks he's seeing double - the young, handsome and courageous man who is standing in front of him now and that overexcited cheerful kid who joined them on their little road trip. "It's impossible." Dick tells them, pulling them back into another hug. "It's fucking impossible." Soon they have to go or they will be late for their classes and Dick and Kory are left alone on the campus. "They'll be okay." his wife tells him. He has to swallow down a bile in his throat and push back some tears before answering. "I know."

Oh and remember Dick's old silver Porsche? The one he traded for a minivan? Yeah, he got it back (don't ask him how). Rachel owns it now. Graduation present. And don't worry about Gar, he's got his car too. Grandpa Bruce got him his dream ride.

Woah... This turned out WAAAAAAAAAY longer than I thought it would be. If you made it this far (and even if you didn't) I hope you enjoyed.

#dc titans #titans #dcu titans #titans season 3 #dick grayson #rachel roth #kory anders #garfield logan #donna troy #titans netflix #titans season 1 #titans season 2

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sope-and-shine · 4 years

Text

The Right of a King: Pt. 1

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

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

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

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

Masterlist

* * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hit his arm, “Get out of here.”

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

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

* * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You jump, “Fix what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

You really hope you’re going crazy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But nothing does.

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

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

If you get that far.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I did.” You nod, smug smile and all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re being unreasonable.” He huffs.

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

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

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

“Well, this time she is,” You insist.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not happening!” You call over your shoulder.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

Anyone but you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shrug, “It’s just banana milk.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s fine.” You mumble.

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

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

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

That gets you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?” You ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Any of them?” He asks.

You nod, “Just lead the way.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’d be devastated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You roll your eyes, “Oh, sure.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Are you really falling for him?

~ Read: Part 2 ~

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inkandpen22 · 4 years

Text

Young Hearts Divided (6/?)

Pairing: Sirius Black x Female!Reader / James Potter x Female!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Smut, mentions of underage drinking

Word Count: 3.3k

Part Summary: Y/N, James, and Sirius wake up the day after the party with no recollection of what happened. Then, while Y/N is studying with Lily it hits her like a ton of bricks.

Masterlist

Massive, horrible, no good, very bad, migraine. This day is going to be miserable. All I can do is thank the universe that we don’t have classes today. I did, however, promise Lily that I’d help her on our Potions project. Marlene is our other partner, but based on the fact that she’s wasn’t moving this morning, I don’t think she’s going to make it.

Gathered around our usual spot at the Gryffindor table, I spot my friends as soon as I enter the Dining Hall. Lily and Remus appear normal, along with Peter. James and Sirius, look like real shit. James’s head keeps slipping out of his hand and Sirius is sporting sunglasses, real unsuspicious. I ease down onto the bench beside Lily with a groan. Similar to James, I rest my chin in my hand, barely awake.

“And it’s alive,” Lily teases, already pouring me some much-needed coffee.

“Gremlins are pickaxing my brain,” I whine.

“That’s what you get for dividing up a bottle of Firewhiskey with Marlene,” she ridicules lightly.

“What?” I frown. “I don’t remember doing that?”

“What do you remember?” Remus interjects, his eyes peeking out over his book.

I struggle to recall much of anything. I remember the game, getting back to the tower, changing, people arriving at the Common Room.

“Do you remember dancing on the table?” Lily snickers, picking up my plate to make it.

My jaw drops, “I did what?!”

“Oh yeah!” Peter lights up.

James starts to giggle, “hehe, I remember.”

I reach across the table weakly and bop him on the head.

“Ouch! Headache!” He whines and rubs his hair to ease the assault.

“I don’t remember that,” Sirius finally speaks up, his voice groggy.

“You don’t?!” James gasps, glancing at his best friend beside. “It was the best thing I’ve ever seen! She looked like a goddess, by far the best dancer to ever be in Gryffindor! Oh, and let me remind you of the red leather skirt! I-”

“Thank you, James!” I shut him down before he gets started. “We get it!”

“No, I don’t think we do,” Sirius snickers and nudges his friend to go on.

James shifts in his seat to face Sirius, “well you see, it had two zip-”

With a stone-faced expression, Remus closes his book with a deep sigh and swats James on the back of the head.

“Ouch! Headache!” James shouts at his friend on his other side.

Remus ignores him fussing and opens his book to where he left off.

James mumbles complaints under his breath as he turns back to face the table. He rubs the back of his head with a pout.

“Did anything else happen?” I question, almost afraid to ask.

“I don’t remember what you did after that,” James informs.

“Sirius was the one who got you down,” Remus interjects, not even glancing up from his textbook.

My attention flickers from Remus to Sirius. He removes his sunglasses and peers past James at his studious friend. His brows are scrunch together in evident confusion.

“I did?”

Remus hums while he flips his page. “Like you Santa Clause with his sack.” His eyes quickly meet mine, “not to compare you to a heavy sack of toys, Y/N.”

“You’re fine, Remus,” I dismiss, knowing that boy would never intentionally insult me.

Sirius hum, visibly racking his mind to the memory. “What about after that?” He questions.

“Don’t know,” Remus mumbles. “You disappeared after that.”

Sirius looks at me and I hold up my hands. “No idea,” I tell him.

“Well you guys ended up in your beds, so you probably helped her to bed,” Peter reasons.

Sirius and I nod in unison, trying really hard to remember, but to no avail. Then, we shrug and continue with breakfast. It’ll come to us eventually. Peter is probably right, Sirius and I have gotten drunk together loads of times. We always end up in our beds at the time of night somehow. It was probably just like any other night.

__________________________________________

Lily and I have been in the library for most of the afternoon trying to finish up this stupid project. I swear Slughorn has it out for us. He wants us to fail his class and glorify the kids in his idiotic Slug Club like dear Lily here. My mind starts to wander to breakfast this morning which makes me think of last night. I can’t believe Marlene and I danced on the study table to Bowie. Then again, Marlene would make that happen.

“Are you excited about Hogsmeade this weekend?” Lily asks quietly as she writes.

I sway my head from side to side. “Kinda, I’m sorta nervous to go with James.”

“Take me then,” she jokes.

I laugh for a second, then a sudden sense of deja vu crosses my mind. My face falls and I lean forward. “Could you repeat that?” I whisper so Madame Prince doesn’t hear me.

She peers up from her paper, “I was just kidding-”

“No, yeah I know, just say it again,” I wave along.

“Take me then?” She repeats slowly, staring at me like I have three heads.

I repeat the phrase in my head like a broken record. Where have I heard that before? It sounds so familiar like it’s important or something. Then, it hits me like a smack across the face.

“Holy-” I cover my mouth.

Madame Prince shushes me instantly. “No yelling!”

Lily struggles not to burst out laughing. “What was that about?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all,” I blurt out and hurry to gather my things. I rise from my seat and start shoving things into my bag. “Excuse me!”

“Where are you going?!” Lily raises her voice.

“I have to...” I hesitate, I don’t have an excuse. “I’ve got to go!”

I briskly turn on my heels to head toward the door. Instead, I slam into someone. I stumble back but catch myself. My eyes are met with Sirius stabilizing his balance.

“You!” We say in unison.

“No, you!” We point at each other.

Madame Prince shushes us dramatically. “If you must talk, take it out in the hall!”

Sirius takes my hand against my will and drags me out into the hallway. He checks up and down the corridor and determines there are too many people. Since it's a Sunday, most students hang out around the castle. I struggle to keep up with his pace as he yanks me along to a nearby classroom. He swings open the door and peeks his head inside.

"Sirius, it's all dusty!" I complain, digging my heels into the stone floor.

He pulls me in first, completely ignoring me.

I grunt, stumbling to catch my footing. When I manage, I brush down my skirt and face Sirius as he latches the door. “Was that really necessary?!”

He spins on his heels and points at me accusingly. "We shagged last night!”

“Almost! Okay? Almost!” I emphasize.

“Okay, fine! We almost shagged!” He complies, holding his hands up in surrender.

I'm slowly starting to recall the experience in the alcove. There was a lot of biting, teasing, swearing, hair pulling...

Sirius raises a brow, "what stopped us anyway?”

“Fitch and Mrs. Norris doing their nightly rounds. We almost got caught!” I hiss under my breath, worried that someone walking by may overhear.

His confused expression doesn't disappear. In fact, it intensifies as he narrows his gaze at the floor trying to pinpoint it all together. “And I didn’t try to continue once we were in the clear?”

“No, you were the one who suggested we head back so I wouldn’t get a third detention," I remind him of that crucial point.

Sirius's face morphs as if he's been told the world is coming to an end, a mixture of devastation and regret. Yet, also wonder, as though he's mentally asking him 'did I honest-to-God do that?'

“I chose then to be a rule-abiding student?!” He shouts.

“For my sake!” I justify in a whisper-yell. "We need to be quiet or-"

“Ugh!" Sirius paces away, hiding his face in his hands. "I really hate myself right now," he groans.

“Sirius!”

He whips around and complains. “What?! Can you blame a guy?! We were this close,” he gestures with his fingers.

I sigh, trying to remain civil. If we keep shouting someone will hear us then we will for sure get detentions.

"Look, it’s probably for the best!” I try to look on the bright side. “We were drunk.”

He whines, stomping his foot with a pout etched on his lips. He grumbles, “it would’ve been drunken...sloppy..." a dazed expression crosses his eyes. "Sweaty... passionate-”

“Sirius!” I stop him, covering my ears as I grimace.

“I know! I know! Shut up, Sirius!” He mimics my voice.

There’s a prolonged pause as the two of us avoid meeting eyes. Well, this is awkward... Crossing my arms over my chest, I lean against a nearby desk. After a moment, I glance up from my shoes and Sirius’s eyes are narrowed, focused ahead on the wall.

I break the silence monotonously, “you’re still thinking about it aren’t you.”

“Yes!” He whines, failing about dramatically.

“Stop thinking about it!” I demand.

“I can’t! While you were in the library with Evans, James and I snuck into your room so he could show me the red skirt in hopes that I would remember!” He confesses and instant regret crosses his features.

My jaw drops and I storm across the room to him. "You’re kidding me!”

“That’s when it hit me! Everything! Then, I ran to find you!” He waves his hand, gesturing to me.

“Where was Marlene?!”

Forget staying quiet, that was before I knew Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum broke into my dorm!

“Oh, she was there," he nods, not caring in the slightest. "Yeah, she was passed out in bed.”

"You went in there when she was sleeping?!” I laugh breathlessly in disbelief. My fingers comb through my hair as I try to rack my brain around this new information.

“It’s not like we haven’t snuck in there before,” he adds as a side-note casually.

“What?!” I gasp.

Sirius quietly curses himself. “Never mind!” He rushes out.

I march toward the door. “I’m going to kill Potter!" I unlatch the lock and go to open it. "Then, I’m going to come back and kill you!”

Sirius jogs after me. "No, wait!”

He slams the door shut, pressing his palm against the wood beside my head. My fist remains around the handle and I feel Sirius close in on me. The warmth of his breath brushes against my neck and chills run down my spine. His free hand glides across my waist and gives it a squeeze. I turn my head to the side, glancing at me him out of the corner of my eye. He towers over me, leaning against the door. His fingertips glide down my hips to the end of my skit and play with the hem. I spin on my heels to face him, my back now pressed to the door.

“Sirius, we can’t,” I whisper, meeting his gaze.

“Sure we can," he steps closer if that's even humanely possible. "Filch is busy with detention right now and there aren’t any classes,”

“What is someone who walks in and sees us?” I question, my eyes falling to his lips uncontrollably.

"Let them," he mutters carelessly.

Slowly, Sirius closes the space between us and brushes his lips against mine. At first, the action is steady and gentle as though we're getting reacquainted. Then, growing impatient, Sirius wraps his hand around the back of my neck and deepens the kiss at an exceptional rate. I drape my arms around his shoulder, yearning for me. He drops his arm from the door and picks up my legs. I wrap them around his torso instinctively as he walks me over to a nearby desk.

“I let bet that even turns you on. The idea of someone seeing me pleasure you," he mumbles against my lips. His hands wander from my knees and up my thighs to the hem of my skirt. "The way I can make you wet just by touching you." He breaks away from my lips and impulsively presses his palm to my core.

The sudden contact makes me shutter.

A light snicker escapes Sirius. "Does it turn you on when I brush against you in class? What about all those drunken times we stayed up late?” He rubs his fingers against the fabric of my panties at a painfully slow rate.

“Sirius...” I whisper like a plead.

“Next class, I’m going to sit next to you," he states sounding like a command. "Marlene and James are just going to have to deal with it."

Grazing his fingertips over my hip bone to the hem of my panties, he starts to remove the item from my body. He does it so gracefully like the action is an art form. Sirius disregards the article of clothing by tossing it to the floor without much thought.

He brings his lips to my neck and begins to grant it immense attention. “I’m going to place my hand on your thigh under the desk," he describes as his palms press into my thighs. "As the professor talks, I’ll slowly bring it up to your leg. I’ll slip it under your annoyingly short skirt and your panties," he performs the actions as he recites them. "I’ll feel just how wet you are for me and I bet you’re always dripping when you’re around me."

His fingertips slip between my folds and I gasp. My fingers grip the hair at the nape of his neck in reaction to the surge of pleasure.

“I’ll make you cum right in class," he purrs, evidently pleased with himself right now. "Right around my fingers."

My breathing starts to get heavy as he rubs pressurized circles over my clit. I bite down on my lip to defuse my moans.

"From now on, I’ll constantly be teasing you, making you wet every chance I get," he breathes against my neck. "I’ll get you wet for me in the dining hall and make you beg for me to take you back to the dorm."

He picks up his pace, brushing his fingers against my clit. I feel myself quickly approaching my climax. His antagonizing words don't help my self-control.

"I’ll take you in the back shelves of the library," he snickers wickedly. "Make you want to scream my name for everyone to hear.”

“Stop...” I beg, the pleasure starting to be too much.

Abruptly, Sirius grabs my face and makes me meet his gaze. Starring at me sternly, he slips two fingers into my core unapologetically. My hands grip his waist pleadingly, but he continues his assault.

“You’re such a tease, Y/N and you don’t realize," he snickers wickedly as he brushes against my G-spot relentlessly. "With your short skirts, your perfect lips, the way you look at me." He leans in, peering down at my lips to tease me. "You get me so hard. All I want to do is take you into an empty classroom every second of every day, bend you over a desk, and punish you for it. I want to make you feel how I feel.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. “Oh fuck,” I whimper.

“I see the way all the boys look at you, especially James. They imagine what it would be like to be inside you. But you’re mine, aren’t you? Only I can fuck you. Only I can make you cum so hard that you shake. Only I can fuck after you finish and make you beg for me to stop.”

"Sirius, I-" I gasp, the pleasure building up in my core is close to reaching its peak.

Sirius dismisses my pleading and grows more forceful. He gathers bits of my hair and tugs at them to make me reveal my neck. “I can make you cum with my hard dick inside you. I can make you hit your climax right here," he growls in my ear.

His fingers pump in and out at an increased rate, causing me to release a moan uncontrollably. I bite down on my lip, doing my best to suppress it.

"Would you scream for me, Baby?" He kisses my jawline softly. "Would you let me fuck you hard after?” He moves and plants a kiss on my neck.

I feel my walls tightening around his fingers as I drag my nails down his back.

“You’re close aren’t you, Love? You want to cum for me?” He grins against my shoulder.

“Yes,” I pant pleadingly.

I hate giving in to him, adding to his ego, but I need this. I need him.

"You want me to fuck you?”

“Yes please,” I beg, struggling to catch my breath.

He presses his lips to mine passionately with more intensity than ever before. “That’s right, beg for it, such a good girl,” he mumbles against my lips.

Overwhelmingly, hits my G-spot with perfect pressure and at an ungodly rate. “I want to cum for me. You’re already so fucking wet for me. I could fuck you so hard right here, right now. Imagine me pounding into you," he instructs as I feel myself on the edge of my climax.

I dig my nails into his shoulder blades. I'm nearly there. "Sirius, I'm-"

Suddenly, Sirius slips his fingers out and takes a step back, parting from me entirely. My eyes fly open and I watch as the boy gazes at me mischievously with his fingers in his mouth. Casually, he picks up my panties and tosses them back to me with a proud smirk. Dumbfounded, I hold the item in my hands utterly confused. Sirius stuffs his hands into his pocket, waiting for me to say something.

I shift my head forward, "that’s it?”

“Umm, yeah pretty much,” he shrugs with a light chuckle.

Merlin, he had this planned! He was fucking with me the entire time! I'm not sure how much of it was a game, but he purposefully got me close and pulled out!

I hop down from the desk with a huff and slip my panties back on. "What the fuck Sirius?!”

He eyes me up and down as though he's analyzing a product. “Yeah no, I’m not going to fuck you, yet! You don’t deserve it," he determines.

I raise my brows, "don’t deserve it?!”

“Yeah!" He repeats, shifting his head toward me mockingly. "You. Don’t. Deserve. Me,” he emphasizes each word. “Not until you decide between me and James, no sex!"

He reaches out and wraps his hand around the back of my neck, pulling me closer to him. I swat at his arm, but it only makes him grip harder. Hover inches from my face grins. "And let’s be honest here, Love. You’re going to pick me. It’s just a matter of when you’re going to admit to yourself that you love me.”

Suddenly, he presses his lips to mine forcefully and I try to shove him off of me, but he's too strong. Then, he finally releases me with a jolt. He turns toward the door to head out.

“Sirius, I-”

He spins on heels with a cheeky grin. “And you do love me, don't deny it. You said so yourself last night... multiple times actually," he winks.

I scoff, he's impossible! The most infuriating boy on the entire planet!

He strolls toward the door with a wave. "Bye!”

“You man-whore!” I shout at him, so close to just smacking him.

“Tease!” He tosses back lightheartedly. His self-satisfied state unfazed by my insult. “Gee, I just adore our little pet names! Ta-ta Love!” He waves his fingers mockingly before disappearing down the hall.

What the actual hell just happened?

__________________________________

Masterlist

Tags: @hannah220506 @agirlwholovescoffee @a-classic-eye @devilstradegy @blackbirddaredevil23 @tay-mariee @blackpinkdolan @findzelda

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

HASO, “Letting Go.”

Wrote this today, hope you like it, and hope you all have a great day :)

“We have to take him to a hospital.”

His hearing echoed, his ears rang, and his body felt cold and numb. He hurt all over.

“No! That's the last thing he needs right now.”

“Not to be rude but, are you stupid! The last tie i checked, I am the only one here with a Doctorate in actual doctoring.

The world swirled slowly to the left and then to the right.

“Last time I checked I’ve been in his shoes before. You have any idea what they are going to do, they are going to assume he jumped off that bridge on purpose. They are going to strap him down, which is going to make things worse, they are going to bring in psych, who are then going to determine that he should be locked down. That is the last thing this man needs right now, and believe me I have been in his shoes.” he faded out and then back in again.

“Than what do you suggest.”

“You’re a doctor aren’t you, so as long as we have you, he is going to be fine. Let's just get him back to my hotel, but I am telling you the last thing he needs is a noisy smelly hospital room.”

“And how are we going to get him back?”

He faded back in and back out again, “I can carry him.”

“He weights over two hundred pounds.” “Than I will take lots of breaks.”

He faded out again, this time for a long while, waking up only briefly an unknown time later. He was lying, uncomfortably over someone else’s shoulder and staring at the ground as it passed by below him. Little streaks of light dotted his vision from the pain, and he felt back unconscious before he could really understand what was going on.

***

Kier Lindsay stared down at the young man, watching as the strange little alien creature got to work. He had once heard that multitasking was pretty much impossible for humans as the brain was too interconnected to allow for it, but his creature didn’t seem to have any problems. All four of its arms seemed to work independently of each other as it stitched the unconscious man back into one piece. Looking him over the doctor had determined that he had managed to fracture his good leg and some of the bones in his right arm and side, but otherwise he was less injured than they had hoped.

Then again this was without considering the psychological duress he might be under at the moment.

He grimaced thinking about it.

He had been there before, he had been there and he had hurt a lot of people in the process.

He continued to watch as the alien stitched the other man up with great precision…

Man?

Honestly he wasn’t much more than a kid, his face was still smooth, unscared by time . Not a hint of white showed in his blond hair, and as he slept, the lines of his face were soft enough that Kier couldn’t shake the feeling that he WAS nothing more than a child.

A child who had had responsibility placed on him far to soon.

To be only in you late twenties and have command of an entire galactic armada.

That was too much to ask for anyone, much less someone like him. Kier couldn’t shake the thoughts as he stared down thinking about how despite technically being an adult for a long enough time, he doubted this man had ever been given a chance to grow up, at least not in the right ways. Turned to the academy at age fourteen, he had been doing adult jobs for longer than most people. He had been thrown into an environment where intelligence and performance mattered but social opportunities were sort of lacking, and then to be thrown right onto the enterprise and into war before trying to recover and immediately turning back to the one group of people that had failed him so badly…..

Adam vir was just a kid, an overly optimistic too trusting kid who had been taken advantage of by the system time and time again. He was like a golden retriever hurt by his master but still loyal enough to come crawling back.

It almost made him sick to watch, but he knew just by looking at him that he would never consider leaving.

Even if it were for his health.

Kier sighed and sat down by the bed staring at the boy with his chin cupped in one hand.

He had a son about Adam Vir’s age, a boy that was just beginning to pull his life together into some semblance of controlled. It had taken him a lot of mistakes and a lot of experience to figure out who he was, and he ached for the realisation that this man probably never got that.

He knew the feeling all too well.

He shook himself a little, dad mode was something you couldn’t really just turn off, at least not in his case. If there were people younger than him, he felt the automatic obligation to adopt them whether they wanted it or not.

Young people deserved guidance from someone who was older and the more people to do it the better. Lindsay hadn’t seen any of Adam’s family members at the trial, which didn’t necessarily mean anything, but he also got the impression that maybe the had avoided telling them on purpose, which was another red flag he was going to have to discuss with the boy woke up.

If he woke up.

***

He woke up some time later, though he couldn’t have guessed what time. The room was dark aside from the blue light of the TV. A little bit of natural light filtered in from the window, but rain clouds dotted blanketed the sky above. Rain pattered against the window in sheets obscuring the city landscape.

He groaned and tilted his head to the side.

A soft whimper, and something warm and wet ran over the back of his hand.

He tilted his head to the side.

The room was small, only big enough for a queen sized bed, a tv and a small desk. There was adoor to a small bathroom right next to a door that likely lead out into the hallway. The hotel room was small, but clean.

And it wasn’t his.

He turned his head a little further, gritting his teeth against the pain as his bleary eyes fell on the silhouette of a man sitting at the end of the bed. He was slightly hunched forward one hand resting on his knee as he flipped through the channels.

“Adam, can you hear me.’

He turned his head a little further to the right, to where Kril was standing beside him, a look of concern on his face.

The silhouette turned to face him, no more than a balck blob against the light. It was impossible to make out his face.

“Where am I? He croaked

The man stood and stepped forward, stepping out of the way of the TV and allowing some light to fall on the side of his face, “My hotel room, sorry about how cramped it is, but until yesterday I was kind of short on cash.”

Adam blinked, the cogs in his brain grinding to a slow start as he stared at the man’s face, which was familiar but he just couldn’t…

“Cigarette.”

It was the first word his brain could think of to describe the man when he finally recognised him, and in his goggy state it was the only thing he could think of, “Where do you even buy those these days.”

“Lets just say if I could quit my smoking habit than maybe I wouldn’t be so short of cash…. Anyway, how are you feeling.”

“Like shit…. What…. What happened.”

The other man sighed and pulled up the chair from the desk, sitting next to him, “You must have had a pretty bad PTSD attack. Looks like you jumped off an overpass and then rad headfirst into a brick wall.”

He grunted, “that explains a lot I guess….” he paused, “I thought…. I thought I was doing fine. I felt…. Fine and now…” A hand rested on his shoulder, “I know, I understand.”

Adam blinked, squinting at him slightly in the darkness, “Who are you/”

“The name is Kier but most of my friends call me Lindsay. I don’t know why, guess our days in the army just sort of rubbed off on us, now we only refer to people by their last names really.”

“What were you doing at the trial.”

The man smiled a little sadly, “Watching some assholes git their comeuppance, oh, and being awarded about five million dollars compensation.”

It took Adam even longer to digest that, “You….. you’re Steel eye-” The last two words came out as a squeak.”

Lindsay turned on the light by the bed, bathing them both in a warm yellow glow. Now that Adam could get a good look at him, he saw an older man probably in his late forties or early fifties. His hair was steel grey but well groomed, and he had the body of a man half his age. He wore only a tattered flannel rolled up to the sleeves and a white T-shirt. The back and sides of his arms were dotted with familiar circular scars all with a silver sort of sheen.

And, surprisingly, little silver dots….

Iron eye implants.

He turned his head to stare up at him, “You…. you are one of the five.”

“Yep, we never met during the war but I’ve been watching your career on the news for some time now. Some real impressive stuff kid.” he smiled, smiled and easy smile of someone who actually meant it.

Adam felt a sudden pang of guilt and shame.

For a moment he couldn’t figure out what it had stemmed from, until he realised. This man seemed fine, and here he was a complete wreck.

“How are you….. Ok after all that?” he wondered almost bitterly.

Lindsay shook his head, “Don’t start with that. I've jumped from one war to another my entire life. I have more experience than you.”

Adam went quiet, “So you were fine…. After steel eye.”

The man snorted, “No… no no, not even close.”

“What happened, if you don’t mind me asking.”

The man shrugged, “Lost both my legs in the war, one above the knee and one below. When I got home my family didn’t have enough money to get me good prosthetics, so I was pretty much wheelchair bound for a year or so.” he sighed, “I came back a shell of a man to a family who really needed a father. It was so bad for a time, everyday I thought about just…. Not being there anymore. I didn’t talk to my wife, I didn’t talk to my kids, and when I did speak I was angry all the time or apathetic.” His shoulders slumped, “For a time, I didn’t have much of a relationship with my middle daughter or my oldest son. I had drug withdrawals so bad I even wheeled myself halfway across town to try and find something…. Heroin maybe, anything that might take the edge off,” He snorted sadly, “I see it as a blessing now that no one would sell to me. I went over the edge drinking, and chain smoking and trying to bum pills off of any doctor I could find. Luckily with regulations on pills these days, I wasn’t given any.”

Adam felt his mouth go dry, “That bad.”

He nodded, “Woke up screaming most nights because of the dreams. For a while my kids moved out of the house because my wife was scared for thor safety.” He held up a hand, “Even during that time I would never have hit them intentionally, but my dreams were getting so bad that I would wake up flailing, and I would jump at the smallest sound. Anything could set me off.”

He sighed sadly, “But my wife bless her soul, is the strongest woman I know.” He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a photograph showing it to Adam with a look of pride so profound it made even Adam’s heart ache.

What he saw was a nice family. Two younger kids, a teenage boy, and a woman.

She had short black hair spiked up and dark lipstick on, and the look on her face was indicative of someone full of mischievous humor.

“My angel. She stayed by me even though she should have left. I tried to get her to leave, even made my behavior worse at one point to drive her off. She SHOULD have left me, but she didn’t. I had the mot amazing support system. She held me from falling any further into it, and my little girl, my little girl Bethany, that little girl pulled me out by my hair and dragged me back to reality. She was too young to realise how horrible I was being, and she just thought I was sick. No matter how much my wife tried to keep hr away from me, she always came to see me somehow, with ‘medicine’.”

He smiled, “Generally it was just a tube of baby M&Ms. I refused at first, but she insisted, and the one day I decided to take them just to quiet her down, she told me that I would be all better.”

He waited with pent up breath.

“That night, I slept without nightmares…. The placebo effect is a hell of a thing if a child can convince a grown ass man that M&Ms ar medicine. I woke up and my head had never been so clear in my entire life. I saw what I was doing to them, and to my little girl and to my other kids…. I have never cried that hard in my entire life, but it was just what I needed. Some emotion to break the cycle of anger and apathy. It wasn’t an easy road from there, but I finally got smart and started listening to my wife. Somehow managed to get my kids to forgive me, and from there we worked as a team to get me back on my feet.” he patted the cigarette in his pocket, “This is what remains from those days…. Can’t seem to quit, but working on it.”

Adam was quiet for some time,

“It was that hard on your family.”

“It was. I am glad they stayed but at the same time I wish they hadn’t been so hurt by me.

He sighed and leaned his head back, “I don’t think that is possible for me.”

A hand turned to rest down on his shoulder, “I know it sounds hard right now but…. I have a theory if you want to hear it.”

He sighed, “Shoot, it's not like I have any other bright ideas.”

“What are you?”

“What do you mean.”

“I mean when all the trappings are stripped away from you, your job and your title…. What makes you…. You.”

He paused for a moment, opened his mouth and then closed it, “I…. Im a….I….” The other man waited, his eyes sad.

The only things Adam could think of were related to his job.

When he was silent for some minutes, the man patted his arm, “All these years of service and you've never taken time to construct a framework for yourself that can survive outside of your job. If you keep defining yourself by what you do and how well you preform than you aren’t going to last. You constantly do everything for everyone else, but why not think about doing something for yourself for once, be completely selfish. Don’t go on vacation because, I bet this will calm me down and make me a better leader when I return, go on vacation because you bloody well want to job be damned.”

Adam opened his mouth to protest, but the man silenced him.

“Even if you love your job, you need breaks from it. You need to set the line to where your job ends and you begin, otherwise you won’t have a personality left when you are done. Take some time to fix YOU before lending yourself to everyone else.”

He rested his head back, “That sounds….. Difficult.”

The man patted him on the arm, “You’ve proven you can do hard things, now is just the time to do another hard thing.”

Adam nodded but inside his head he was beginning to feel a little hopeless. He knew that Lindsay was right. He knew that he was messed up, and everything he had done up to this point was just going to be a bandage.

And until he was fixed.

He was going to have to give up a few things.

He hated the idea of hurting people like Lindsay had described, so…. So that meant doing something that he wasn’t going to like.

“Do you…. Do you mind if I…. speak with you…. On occasion.”

The man smiled, “I already put my number in your phone if you need me. I work law enforcement now so I might be busy, but if you need my help Ill do my best.”

***

He didn’t want the court’s blood money. He would have tossed it away if he could, but he knew that was just his confused mind talking. Money was money, so he mostly gave it away. Gave it away to his parents for their retirement, and to his brothers and sisters for their kids college funds. He gave some to his brother to get him a better house in a new area, but he kept some for himself. It would have been irresponsible not to buy himself a house, to get himself a place away from his job and the ship.

He didn’t know where to buy it at first thinking that earth was too mundane but anything further out was too far removed. So, he bought a little private property on the moon. It cost a shit ton of money but, he had that in spades now. He only told his family about it.

They weren’t exactly happy with them when he finally told them where he had been. They had wanted to be there to support him, but he couldn’t find t in himself to feel bad that they hadn’t see the pictures and the videos he had been forced to see. He apologized and promised he would do better in the future.

He felt disconnected from himself.

Out of touch.

The crew of the Omen was just as angry with him, perhaps even more so than his family.. The intervening days that led him back to his ship feeling detached was like…. Some sort of horrible dream. He felt like he was slipping backward down a slippery slope and watching the light fade away from him.

He was scrambling on the rocks but couldn’t find purchase.

Perhaps it was the idea of what he had to do next that hurt him so much. Hurt him so much that he didn’t want to think about it, but he knew he had to. He didn’t want to but he knew he had to. It was the only way he was going to be able to feel ok about himself, about fixing himself.

Maybe things would change when he finally came back.

Maybe when he recovered, he could change what he was about to do.

And maybe he was about to ruin it forever.

He walked down the hallway of the engineering corridor despondent, like he was watching himself in third person.

He reached out a hand that didn’t feel like his and knocked on the wall of the ship.

A familiar face turned to look at him from her workspace in the dark. Sunny stood and paused to look at him, “Adam, are you alright.”

“Sunny…. We…. need to talk.”

She paused eyes narrowing in confusion.

“Are you ok.” she repeated.

He walked in taking a seat on her work bench and staring down at his hands.

“Is this about, the trial….. I mean yes I am a little mad that you didn’t tell me. Is it because I’m a Drev, is it because it would have looked bad. I know I don’t understand human politics, but maybe….”

He held up a hand, and she grew quiet.

He sat for a long moment fighting himself on the inside,and then forcing himself to look up at her. He could feel hot tears prickling at the back of his eyes though, for some reason he couldn’t get them to fall.

She deserved that he at least LOOK at her.

He felt sick.

He just wanted to throw up.

This…. This was the hardest thing he had ever done.

“Sunny…. I… while I was away, at the trial.”

She stared at him slow horror and confusion passing across her face.

“Well, I learned some things about myself. Number one being that, I….. I never recovered from what happened to me. From Steel eye and the war. Ive been bandaging it up for the past few years assuming that I can fix it, but at this point…. I wonder if I ever will.” He took a deep breath and locked eyes with her, “I’m broken, and until I can fix myself…. I think its best if-”

“No, no no no that's not how this works.”

He continued speaking, “I think it's best if we take a break.”

“NO!”

“Sunny I love you but I. I am not Capable of being what you need or deserve.” he stood reaching a hand forward, “I can’t subject you to myself like that.”

She jerked away from his hand, “that should be MY decision it would be OUR decision.”

“Sunny please…. I am so sorry.”

“On my planet, battle pairs fight WITH each other no matter how hard the battle is.”

His voice shook timorous and fading fast, “And on my planet, sometimes loving someone means letting them go.”

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xbunnybunz · 4 years

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circhester city blues [hop x reader]

Summary: Hop finds you at outside at midnight, mulling over some personal thoughts. He extends some much needed words of comfort, and a little bit more.

Genre: Fluff

Date: July 12, 2020

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Circhester was unlike anything you had ever seen before.

Snowflakes drifted slowly from the sky, brushing over the city with a crispy new layer of snow. The cold nighttime air was serene, moving languidly over your exposed cheekbones and fingertips and leaving you slightly shuddering. A hum of gentle music floated softy in the breeze, sounding quite melancholy and tearful.

You lean over the railing on the higher point of the city, eyes taking in the scene of the city of snow. The sensation of snowflakes grazes your skin with a soft nip, melting away and leaving you yearning for more than that gossamer touch.

You close your eyes to eternalize this memory, the sweet and delicate song echoing in the distance and the soft glow of nighttime snow flurries dancing before your eyes. It is times like these, where you’re away from the crowds and cheering of fans, do you get the time to reflect on your journey.

The beginning of this trek seemed so long ago. The hazy memories of Postwick and its endless expanse of green fields leave you feeling bittersweet. As much as you miss home and the feeling of waking up at home in your soft bed, the smell of freshly cooked omlettes wafting from the kitchen, you’ve been beginning to ponder the end of your journey.

The heights and lulls of your adventure fill you with purpose, and every morning you wake up with a mission in mind. Other times, when the excitement dies down and the sun begins to dwindle behind the horizon, you can set up your tent and lay under the stars, counting the specks of light until the coos of your pokemon lull you to sleep.

That is something that, with all its glorious, warm sunshine and creaking cottage houses, Postwick cannot give you.

You watch as one by one, houses lining the streets illuminate with life from the inside. Families come together for supper, their shadows dancing across the cobblestone path lined with a thin layer of snow. You wonder if you’re selfish for not wanting to return home- not wanting this chapter of your life to be over so soon.

Tomorrow was the day you were scheduled to battle Melony, the Ice type gym leader and sixth hurdle to completing your Pokemon Gym Challenge. You think back to your first challenge against Milo, and wonder why you’re not feeling the same jittery feeling in your stomach.

The first night before your first gym battle, you were kept awake by the visions of battle and victory. You recall recounting the potential battle strategies you could use against the grass type leader in your sleep, which led to a night of tossing and turning in Bedew Hotel.

You sigh, your breath making small puffs of clouds in the air. You look down, clenching and unclenching your fists to get blood flowing back into your fingers. There had been a lot you encountered in your travels, all of which would’ve never found had you stayed in your hometown.

You had the chance to step into the battle arena, the stadium pumped full of life and vivacity that made your ears ring and heart swell. The cries of millions watching from home set your soul ablaze, and the urge to pursue your dreams had never been stronger. Amidst your challenge, you met many new and beautiful souls, both in battles and in passing. Each had their own stories and dreams to follow, burning with the passion of life. Their voices rang in your ears as you crept through the dusty Galar mines and scaled the Turrfield ruins, the experiences lives bleeding into yours and coloring you with wonder and devotion.

Many days as you waded through the wild area, you wondered if the sun ever burned so bright back at home. With enough warmth to sear your skin, warm your bones and bleach the heavens with nothing but clear, blue skies. Every night, you find yourself in awe that the starry night sky expanded so far over the horizon, deep, dark and heavy. You always question if it’s the same sky you see through your little window at home, hanging humbly over your desk in a wooden frame.

As the snow falls upon your face, you turn skyward, beholding the moon in all its lustrous, ephemeral beauty. It drips with tantalizing fullness, the light spilling over to speckle stars into the unfathomably darkening night. It hangs heavily in the inky blackness, as if even the skies aren’t large enough to hold it up.

You catch yourself thinking about who you were, and who you are. You wonder if the journey has allowed you to grow too much, too large for your modest little hometown.

The crisp sound of snow underfoot breaks the spell of silence, but you don’t need to look to know who it is.

A violet haired boy leans on the barristrade beside you, a relaxed smile stretching across his face and lighting his eyes.

“Fancy catching you out here,” He teases. “Pondering the mysteries of the universe?”

You see him staring at you from the periphery of your vision. You kick at the snow by the ledge, watching it fall into the fountain underneath.

“Not quite, but I was getting there before you came along.”

Hop laughed, and it was bold and rectifying. It echoed off the brick walls and concrete statues to warm your heart, and soon your cheeks.

“A right ruckus you are. How can you stand out here for so long and still have mysteries unsolved?”

You stutter, feeling quite abashed he had called you out on your glooming. “It hasn’t been that long! I was just… Admiring the view.”

Hop’s smile softens, and in the warm yellow light of the streetlamps, his eyes look like dark pools of swirling honey.

The way he carries himself is new, yet familiar. You know he’s the same Hop that left Postwick with you all those months ago, and yet seeing him like this reminds you that you have not been the only one growing. His exuberant flame is still there, licking at the edges of his smile and playing at the corners of his eyes. But somehow, he seems more mellow, more willing to stop for a second before surging forwards like the freight engine you’ve always known.

They’re all small shifts, but bring you comfort nonetheless, knowing you’re not the only one who may feel out of place. Hop’s the one thing in your adventures that remained constant despite change, as sturdy as an anchor in the raging sea.

When you look at him in the dull glow of the moon, you feel like you have a fragment home in your hands. You see tanned skin and the sun-kissed freckles that faintly pepper his cheeks, a signature mark of a Postwick Wooloo herder. It contrasts greatly with the snow that has settled onto his hair and the fur lining his denim jacket, as Postwick doesn’t often have cold seasons.

“What are you doing out here, anyways?” You ask.

Hop peers over the rising, and then up at the sky. “I was looking for you.”

Your heart throbs at the way he speaks so candidly. “For me? Don’t you think I can handle myself, now?”

He chokes, and waves his hands. “No, that’s not what I meant! What I mean to say is…”

He places a hand on the nape of his neck, now his turn to feel embarrassed. “It’s a force of habit, I guess? It was always my job to fetch you before supper back in Postwick, before you got your first pokemon.”

You grin and give him a bit of a shove with your shoulder to let him know you were joking. He stumbles a tad, but recovers quickly with a mirthful smile, gladly settling back into his place next to you.

“It’s been a while, huh?” You say.

Hop leans heavily on the balustrade, crossing one long leg behind the other. “More than a while. I still remember how you cried when I caught my Wooloo, you were so worried I’d leave for the pokemon challenge without you.”

You laughed at the memory, but the distance between then and now makes you a bit teary-eyed.

“Would you have?”

Hop smiled at the thought, but shook his head. “No, I’ve always known I wanted to start the challenge with you as my rival. But I’ll admit, I really thought I was ready to take on the world at the time, just my level three Wooloo and me.”

You giggled and he reddened, though you were unsure if it was from the cold or being flustered.

“Thanks, Hop. That means a lot to me. I wouldn’t rather have anyone else by my side for this wild ride.”

He grins at you, taken aback and flattered all at once. “Oh, geez. I’m real glad to hear you say that, but don’t think I’ll go easy on you just because you said that!”

“Drat, I thought flattery would work for sure this time.”

You roll your eyes and subconsciously lean into him a bit more for warmth, though it doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

He blushes, a deep red reaching the tips of his ears and sticking a lump in his throat. He swallows thickly, and doesn’t say anything for the longest time.

You watch as the moon silhouettes the lightpoles in the air, overtaking their light with its own. Hop notices your silence, gives you a small smile.

“What have you been thinking about?” He asks, breaking the stillness.

You pull back from him, and you think you see a flash of disappointment across his face, but it’s gone as soon as it came.

“What do you mean?”

Hop shakes his head at you, the snow in his hair catching the illumination of the moon and making him seem almost otherworldly. “You’ve been gone since we finished eating dinner with Sonia. There’s not much sightseeing to do here, especially after the sun sets.”

You look at the city again to confirm his words, and find that he’s right. You’ve been moping about on your lonesome in the drape of the night, thinking about the inevitable end to the story you’ve waited so long to experience.

You figure that if anyone else can understand you, it’s Hop, the boy who’s grown up beside you all your life.

“Do you ever not want this to end?” You ask, snowflakes catching on your eyelashes and melting away just as quickly.

Hop doesn’t speak, and you take this as a sign to continue.

“This is the most I’ve ever seen of the world, and it’s far more beautiful than anything I could’ve ever imagined. I want to keep feeling the wind in my hair when I take flying taxis to the next gym, and I want to always feel the sand brewing into a storm in the battle arena. I want to keep meeting new people, meeting new goals and making new aspirations. I don’t ever want to stop chasing this dream, but I know that I’m going to catch up to it one day. And what happens then? “

You turn to him, your eyes sparkling alongside all the stars in the sky. “I don’t know if I’ll ever belong in Postwick anymore, or anywhere at all for that matter. The stars reach too far, and the sun moves too quickly for me to just go home and watch them when I know I could be out here, running after them.”

You shudder, the cold air nipping at your skin through your thin jacket. “Every step forwards feels like a step backwards, too. The closer I get to finishing this challenge, the sooner I know I’ll have to go back home.”

Your shoulders slump, and you can’t help but sigh softly, dejectedly. Mist collects in the night air at your exhale, and evaporates.

You’re surprised to feel something thick and heavy descend upon your shoulders, cocooning you in warmth and the familiar scent of pine. You look up, and your cheek brushes worn Wooloo fur.

“Hop, you’ll catch a cold.” You say, moving to shrug off his denim jacket. But he places his hand on your back, firmly holding the jacket in place. He gives you a smile and it’s enough for you to drop your efforts.

“Keep it on, you’re shivering.”

You keep eye contact with him a beat too long, but he doesn’t say anything when you turn away.

For a long moment, you wonder if he would respond and feel silly for asking him these things. When he speaks again, his voice clear in the crisp snowfall, you’re taken by surprise.

“I think every adventure is richest with a definite ending. It means we achieved what we set out to do.” He says.

“But the most important part's gotta be finding new pieces of yourself to explore, and that’ll never expire. You’re right, we may be done with this part of our journey, but now we know what drives our hearts. Without going through this, we would never know how many more stories lie ahead, ready for us to learn from.”

Hop turns to you, eyes gleaming, drawing you in.

“And I don’t know about you, but it means the world to me that I get to go on my first big adventure with my closest friend. It helped me realize that I have a lot to learn from other people, and a lot to learn from you, too.”

You feel your heart twinge and pulse quicken at the tone in his voice. You divert your eyes to the buildings behind Hop instead, unable to bear his intensity, and take in the lights dwindling with silhouettes of families ready to sleep. He presses on, voice bordering almost on a whisper now.

“I can’t wait to become the person I’m meant to be, (y/n). And I can’t wait to see the person you’ll become too. I really want to tell you all the things I know I’ll be amazed by in the future, but even more than that, I want you to be there beside me, like now, so we can both learn from it together. I know there’s so much more out there for the both of us.”

Your eyes prick with tears, and the moon and the stars and the streetlights all blur together into one large and glistening mosaic.

“Hop… Thank you. I don’t think you know how much I needed to hear that right now.”

You reach up and brush away your tears, blood rushing in your ears when you realized Hop’s hand never left your back.

“I’ve just been so worried about everything. The challenge, our sponsors, and that strange gigantamax energy showing up everywhere. But now that the end seems so close, I was worried I’d be left unfulfilled.”

Every inhale you take smells like him, and it’s calming and electrifying at the same time. The stars twinkling overhead seemed dull in comparison to the glint in hazel eyes, shining with endless ambition yet such patience.

“But?” He asked, a puff of cold mist trailing from his lips, beckoning.

“You were right. There is more for us out there, more than either of us could begin to imagine. And I can’t wait to see it all.”

He smiles again, softly. Dimples push at his cheeks, and you suddenly really want to hold his hand. So you do.

His fingers are rough from years of wrestling Wooloo, but his hands are still large and warm. When you slip your hand into his, he doesn’t hesitate to thread his fingers through yours, and it’s a perfect fit.

You sneak a glance up at him again, and this time it’s his turn to be abashed. His cheeks are tinged pink, and his gaze is directed towards the water, the soft rippling casting a calm glow on his frame.

“Hop?”

He startles at your voice, and you can barely hold back a chuckle.

“Hm? Yeah?”

“Did you mean what you said before? About us?”

He pulls his gaze back to you, face still flushed but voice thick with earnestness.

“Of course I meant it.”

The words swell a happiness in your stomach, and you look up at him, admiring the unruliness of his hair and the softness of his features basking in the nighttime sky, contrasted by a pair of sunny yellow eyes that speckled like amber in the dark. Then you really looked at him.

You looked into his eyes and saw gold, as vivid and overflowing as the wheat fields back in Postwick you both spent years running up and down in autumn. You saw endless humid summers of climbing trees and splashing in lakes, you saw the boy who picked you up and carried you home when you slipped on the stairs just outside the village, and the boy who you got into a fist fight for because someone called his hair funny. You looked at him and recounted all these memories, of the times you had laughed together, and cried together. When you looked at him, you saw your rock, your inspiration and your best friend- perhaps now, something even more.

You reached up to brush a hand against his cheek, skin cold then blossoming with warmth under your touch.

He leans into your palm, eyes burning and never leaving your own.

The moon hung low in the sky now, full and heavy with a pearlescent sheen that inked your shadows into the stone floor, standing closer now than ever before.

Hop whispered your name, the warm air washing over you and drawing goosebumps. You hummed in response, much too lost in your trance to respond with words.

“I'm really glad we're here right now.”

A knot closes in your throat and a gentle warmth spreads across your face at the sincerity of his words. You’re not sure how to respond, so you just draw yourself closer to him. He dips his head to meet you halfway, and in a single slow and blissful moment, the space between you and Hop dwindles down to zero.

His lips are soft and chaste, moving with a slow and tender languidness that made your legs wobble and knees buckle. You grip at his shirt for support and he responds by pulling you flush against him, arm looping around your waist and the other hand still sweetly holding onto yours.

When it ends, you’re both breathless and red in the cheeks. He rests his forehead on yours and his eyes are deep and endless; pupils blown and hair askew, tickling your face and blushing your cheeks.

The snow nipping at your clasped hands is a reminder that the universe is moving everywhere around you. Yet time feels slowed and perfect, and the world, though large, seems to fit lovingly intertwined between your fingers.

Your bodies are languorous and barely want to untangle, but Hop laughs at the snow collected in your hair. You wonder how even in the cold night, his laughter is full and round and warm. You can feel his body, pressed against yours, trembling from the cold without his denim jacket. You tease him for this, but do it with a grateful smile while wrapped in the scent of Hop.

The night had grown long and with it came the dropping temperatures.

“Let’s head back to Ionia Hotel, we should get some rest before taking down Melony tomorrow, don't you reckon?” Hop asks cheekily, despite his tousled hair and labored breathing.

You want to poke fun at him some more, but bite your tongue. Instead, you nod and began your trek together with him, hands still linked and hearts ever pounding under the cape of the shimmering, expanding night sky, and look to the future.

#pokemon #pokemon sword and shield #pokemon sword and shield hop #fanfiction #reader insert #hop x reader

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solarune · 4 years

Text

drop out

@rasapad said: Hello! Here’s an idea: “Do you think the moon is jealous of how pretty you are?” + Renjun, and motorcyclist au… except let’s make it fun and have the reader as the one with the motorbike!

pairing: huang renjun x reader

genre: angst, some fluff, college au

warnings: swearing

word count: 1,996

a/n: my first renjun fic!! hopefully i got his characterization right, please let me know what you think!

Renjun has never been one to take risks. Before every choice he makes, he always makes a mental list of pros and cons, thinking of every single outcome possible and what they could potentially lead to. Do the pros outweigh the cons? Does this benefit him in the long run or this is only temporary? Will he get hurt?

Renjun never takes risks but when it comes to you, it’s very hard to say no.

And that’s exactly how he finds himself on the back of your motorcycle, hands clasped together over your torso as he holds on for dear life while you zoom down the highway. You weave around cars and buses alike to avoid the traffic, some of them honking at the two of you, but unlike Renjun, you like taking risks. Where Renjun is logical, you’re emotional. Where Renjun is overthinking, you’re spontaneously doing. The two of you are exact opposites and it’s for that reason that you’re best friends and for that reason that Renjun caught feelings for you. How could he not? You’re everything he isn’t. You with your confidence, no bullshit attitude, easy laughter, and attention-grabbing aura. You’re everything he wants to be.

You reach a red light on the way to your destination and Renjun’s grip finally loosens to allow his hands to rest for a few seconds. The leather jacket that you’re wearing squeaks as you turn to look over your shoulder at him and you push the visor of your helmet up to reveal a bright smile. His heart skips a beat and he clears his throat, raising an eyebrow and asking in a bored voice, “So are you going to tell me where we’re going or are you just going to keep on driving? I would at least like to know which ditch I’m potentially going to be left for dead in because of this metal death trap you’ve forced me on to.”

You roll your eyes with a smile still on your face as one of your hands leaves the handlebars to gently hit his leg. “We’re not going to die, Junnie, you’ve been on my motorcycle enough times to know that! And-”

“And yet I still feel like I’m close to death every time I get on,” he interrupts you. “Funny how that works.”

“And no, I’m not telling you where we’re going,” you continue with a pointed look after his rude interruption. “It’s a surprise!”

“You know I hate surprises,” he grumbles but his words are lost in the sound of your motorcycle’s engine revving the second the light turns green. His grip on you tightens once more and when he lets out a squeak when he feels you accelerate, he prays to every higher power out there that you didn’t hear him. It would only cause you to go faster and it’s taking everything in Renjun to not press his entire body up against you and hide his face in your neck until you get to your destination.

Renjun doesn’t even notice that he falls asleep until you’re shaking him awake, soft voice calling out his name while the two of you just sit on your parked motorcycle. His vision is blurry from just waking up but it doesn’t explain why everything is dark and he begins to panic and is about to call out to you for help when he realizes that he’s still wearing your spare helmet.

“You’ve been overworking yourself, haven’t you, Junnie?” you question him as you take the helmet from his hands. “I don’t know why you keep doing this to yourself, you know that lack of sleep and caffeine just end up making you more tired.”

Renjun huffs as he rubs at his tired eyes. He knows that but-

“I can’t afford to waste any time, (Y/N). My classes as a second year music theory major are some of the hardest classes I’m going to take, I can’t afford to fail.”

The two of you have had this argument before; Renjun telling you that sacrificing proper sleep is necessary to maintain his perfect GPA and you telling him that taking a 15 minute break and getting at least 8 hours of sleep twice a week isn’t going to kill him. It’s like you’re both talking to a brick wall but neither of you are willing to back down. Renjun wants to succeed and you just want to keep your best friend alive and functioning.

But you don’t argue with him this time. “I know,” you simply reply, and Renjun is taken aback. No snarky response? No threats to his life? What the hell is going on? “Anyways, we’re here!”

When he looks around, all he sees are trees and grass lit up only by the moon. That’s it, Renjun thinks to himself. I’m going to die here. You begin to walk deeper into the forest and Renjun scrambles off of your bike and runs to catch up with you, the darkness of the unfamiliar forest keeping him on edge. “Can you please tell me what we’re doing here?” he asks. He doesn’t care if he sounds scared or desperate because those are the only two things he’s feeling right now. “Because the more we walk, the more I feel like you’re going to murder me-”

The two of you emerge out onto a cliff and the entire city is laid out before you. It’s enough to take Renjun’s breath away as he stares down at all of the lights, and even in the dark, he can just make out all of the cars on the highway that you were on before. When he takes a deep breath and the cold night air enters his lungs, Renjun feels like he’s at the top of the world. When he looks over at you, he finds that you’re already looking at him with a fond smile on your face and Renjun can’t help but smile back. “This place is amazing, (Y/N)!” he exclaims. “How did you even find it?”

You take a seat on the edge of the cliff, your feet dangling off and swinging in the air, and you pat the ground beside you as a silent request for him to sit beside you. “I was just driving around one night looking for a place to think and just happened to come here.” You shrug and don’t even look up at him as you pull up handfuls of grass. “It’s been around a month since I first found it and I thought it was finally time to bring you here.”

Renjun only nods in response and a comfortable silence falls over the two of you while the wind and muffled sounds from the city provide you with background noise.

“Do you think the moon is jealous of how pretty you are?” you ask randomly and Renjun swears he almost topples off the cliff from how fast his entire body turns to look at you. You’re staring up at the moon and even though you’re not looking at him, Renjun can tell that you have a strange look in your eyes. He doesn’t like that. “I’ve always thought that moon is pretty, but to be honest…” Your eyes finally meet his and a sad smile appears on your face. “I think you’re prettier.”

All Renjun can do is stare at you as he attempts to process what you just said to him. “Are you okay?” he asks, leaning forward to touch the back of his hand to your forehead. “Are you sick? Why are you being so weird tonight?”

You swat his hand away with a laugh, but the happiness on your face is short-lived and is immediately replaced by a somber expression. “I’m not sick, Junnie, I’m fine.”

When Renjun looks at you, he can tell there’s more you want to say but you just don’t know how. So he waits in silence, allowing you to gather your thoughts and giving you the time that you need to say what you want. Maybe her dog died, Renjun thinks to himself, trying to think of every possible thing that could have happened that would cause you to be this serious around him. Or she had a bad day, maybe it was her idiotic chemistry lab partner. Or-

“I dropped out today,” you finally blurt out. “Like, out of college.”

All of the air feels like it just got knocked out of Renjun’s lungs. “You what? Why?” It’s okay, it’s fine, he reassures himself. She’s always been impulsive. Maybe she just needed this semester off and she’ll come back next year. And it’s not like I’ll never see her again.

“I’m moving to America to live with my sister.”

No.

“What the fuck, (Y/N)?” Renjun practically shouts as he jumps up from his seat on the ground. “This isn’t funny, stop joking around.”

“I’m not joking around, Renjun,” you say softly as you get up to stand in front of him. “I’m leaving in 2 weeks.”

Renjun. You never call him that. It’s always ‘Junnie’ or ‘Jun’ or ‘idiot’. Never ‘Renjun’.

His vision goes blurry and Renjun doesn’t even realize that he’s crying until he feels tears running down his cheeks. He wipes away at them angrily as he glares at you. “What the fuck were you thinking, (Y/N)? Why didn’t you tell me you were thinking of dropping out? I could have helped you, we could have figured this out together!”

“This is exactly why I didn’t tell you,” you respond, and Renjun can hear frustration in your voice. “I knew you would be like this. You wouldn’t understand-”

“Understand what?” he asks. “Understand that you just threw your entire life away?”

“Understand that this is me finally starting to live the life that I want!” you retort and at this point, you’re both shouting at each other. Your fights have never been like this before and the anger between you two is so visceral that it makes Renjun even more scared. “I don’t belong here, Renjun; in this school, this city, this country. There’s so many things the world has to offer that I wouldn’t ever learn in school and I want to find out what they are. I’m tired of sitting still. I want to do something.”

Renjun doesn’t know what to say at this point. You’ve always been restless but he didn’t think it would come to this. You’re taking a big risk and even though the decision was never his, he still feels scared.

“I’m not like you, Junnie.” Your voice is soft and when Renjun looks at you, all he sees is sadness and uncertainty, plain as day on your face. “There isn’t one thing I particularly like enough to study, I don’t have a dream job, I’m not passionate about something that’s able to make me a ton of money in the real world. At this point, I don’t even know what the hell comes after moving to America. But I need to get out of here.”

More silence. Renjun can’t bring himself to say anything. His mind is blank.

“I wish it wasn’t like this. I wish I could be like you,” you confess. “You’re always so sure of yourself, you always know the right choices to make to get to where you want to be. You’re so smart, Junnie. I wish I could be like that.”

Renjun’s hand balls up into a fist at his side. “You are smart, (Y/N), don’t you dare think otherwise. I may not agree with your decision but I always knew deep down that college isn’t meant for you.”

He looks back out onto the view of the city. I’ve always wanted to be like her but she wants to be like me. How ironic. Now he knows why you brought him here after all this time. You were waiting for the right moment. “I just wish you weren’t leaving me.”

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joonkorre · 3 years

Text

what canst thou give?

@drarrymicrofic prompt: caught

yall cant expect me to watch the witch (2015) and not go insane trying to fit a quote into my work. also, this is the first time i ever write something veering into the 15+ category. so. go easy on me lmao

AO3

“Wouldst thou like to live deliciously?”

Draco’s breath catches in his throat.

“But only if you want to, of course. No pressure at all.”

It’s sweet, that tone, as sweet and numbing as the saliva dripping down his nape. If Draco is someone else, an unfortunate bastard even more miserable than he is, he might have believed it.

“I don’t know,” he replies, the unnatural chill on the back of his bare neck too visceral a feeling. Too real. “I think having to choose between that and rotting in a back alley is at least a little bit pressuring.”

“Not too much, though?”

“Oh, no, never.”

“Good,” Edmund whispers. At this point, Draco wouldn’t be surprised if that’s not even his real name, “good.”

Draco stays quiet. With smooth jazz crooning through the walls of bars and eateries to complete the easygoing ambiance of a mid-autumn night in Muggle London, it seems to be the least likely time of the year to find oneself bargaining for their life. But here he is.

“Now,” Draco’s pulse jackrabbits so quickly he can hear it. A delighted chuckle leaks into the night. “Your answer, please.”

When he doesn’t give one, the canines on his exposed shoulder threaten to break the skin. Unexpectedly, they lift off.

“You might want to think it through a little faster, doll,” the large hand pinning Draco’s wrists against the brick wall clenches around them, then drifts down his chest. Lays flat on his quivering stomach, a persistent pressure against Draco’s thrifted bomber jacket. “We have an audience.”

Draco sucks in the stale air with a hiss. He’s pulled his date this far into the alley because he didn’t want curious onlookers as they snog. Bad fucking idea that was. Still, the thought of strangers witnessing this horrid moment fills him with dread. They can’t do anything to help anyway, only to humiliate him even more.

“What—”

“Don’t look,” Edmund nips his ear lobe, “unless you want further mortification. You mortals are ashamed of the strangest things, I can smell it on you.”

Heat rushes through his body. Draco blinks, dizzy with… with something. He doesn’t know whether he wants to rebel, turn his head, and meet the stranger’s gaze head-on, or just rest his forehead against the grimy bricks and find reluctant comfort in Edmund’s instructions.

“What do you,” Draco murmurs, sour notes of alcohol floating back into his nose, “what do you propose I do then? Just stand here and wait for them to get lost?”

“You can make it easy for yourself and say no,” Edmund says.

Those canines are back on the base of his neck. The arm that isn’t wrapped around his middle slithers across his chest, calloused palm an anchor on his shoulder blade. Draco wonders if this looks intimate, possessive—protective, even—to their observer, when he simply feels choked. A mouse gripped within the gentle loops of a snake’s body.

“You’d look like you’re swooning in my arms while I drink from your,” the tip of Edmund’s nose travels up the length of Draco’s neck, ending at where his baby hairs are matted with cold sweat, “gorgeous, delicious essence. And it’d only take a blink of an eye. Our little voyeur would never know.”

“Merlin, can’t I have a single good date?” Draco grits out. “Just fucking say blood.”

“Oh, but you’re no fun,” Edmund says. “Being poetic has its merits, I think. Makes life interesting.”

“Life will be even more interesting when I get to live it, actually.”

The hand on his shoulder takes its time trailing to his face, and when it does, it tilts his jaw to the side. Draco’s eyes automatically slide shut.

“Oh, you will. Once you get used to the ‘undead’ part of it, life will be a joy to live.”

His hands shift against the grimy bricks, one seeking familiarity and warmth as it grips his other wrist, grounding him.

“You must’ve realized by now how anxious I am to have you by me, by us. If I’m not, I’d just pick you up from a club, drink from you, leave you behind that dumpster over there, and you’d wake up feeling hungover with no memory of me,” Edmund goes on, his face close. If Draco tries, he reckons he can swallow down the intoxicating spice of cologne wafting against his cheek. “But I’m not doing that, now, am I?”

Perhaps it’s not even cologne, perhaps it’s all Edmund.

“You see, the blood of mortals is our life force, yes, but few of them ever smell and taste like anything more than diluted shite. Blood like yours, though, that’s rare. Power like yours. That raw, untapped, repressed power hiding under masks and marks. Given enough time, enough resources, it can be brought forth, and you can prosper.

“It’d be a shame if all of what you are made of withers into nothing, don’t you think?”

Draco thinks and thinks. It’s all one can do when they’re held so firmly, quite literally stuck between a rock and a hard place. A bead of sweat trickles down his temple. Edmund kisses it away with false reverence, dotting another kiss behind Draco’s ear. Draco would have jolted if he has any energy left in him.

He realizes it now. Ever since the day Edmund’s gaze lingered a second too long, it was over. There is no one left to remember him, and if he ‘makes it easy’ for himself and says no, nothing will change. Sooner or later, he’d die without a purpose, alone.

What if he eliminates dying from the equation altogether?

He realizes it now. There has never been any choice.

Only one foggy, crooked path forward.

“Yes.”

Draco’s eyes open with a heavy drag, allowing in but a sliver of light. In the misty blurriness, he sees a smirk. One stark-white canine pulls the bottom lip inward, pierces through papyrus skin.

Draco’s vision darkens as red lips touch his. His nose clogs up for a brief moment, overwhelmed by the onslaught of scents and tastes. With every languid swipe of a clever tongue, copper as bitter as Charon’s obol forces its way into his mouth. A sharp needle of pain pricks his bottom lip. Draco flinches, tries to take a step back but the hand on his jaw keeps him close. One long finger sneaks into his mouth, prying it apart.

Swallowing the harsh tang of iron down, a rich, foreign sweetness floods his senses. It’s the nectar of late-June peaches and lingonberry syrup swirled in chamomile, coating his palate with a luscious glaze. A low moan escapes as his muscles relax. If it’s not for the steady hand on his stomach, Draco’s knees would have hit the dirty ground already.

“There we go,” Edmund whispers. His hands guide Draco to lean against him, back to chest, sending intermittent shivers to rack through Draco’s body. It’s cold, so cold, but he can’t pull away, just lets Edmund takes whatever he wants to take. “Good boy.”

“Don’t call me that,” Draco gathers enough of his declining wit to argue. “Sounds like you’re calling a dog.”

“Ah, you’re cute. The Sisters will adore you.”

“Sisters...” Draco says, the furrow of his brow easily smoothened by another leisurely kiss.

“Sisters,” Edmund says. The hand on Draco’s jaw edges to his neck, thick fingers adding a slight squeeze to the vulnerable valley on either side of his Adam’s apple. Draco sighs into Edmund’s mouth. “Surely you don’t think there’s only one of us out there?”

Not very certain of what to say, Draco purses his lips instead. Edmund lets out an amused hum and indulges him, sucking on his bottom lip. It’s good, so good, until it becomes sickening, like raiding the entirety of Fortescue’s stockroom. Being a creature of the night is rapidly losing its novelty.

“Okay, enough, enough, thanks,” he says, tapping the muscular arm around him and turning away. Edmund only continues his little ministration below Draco’s jaw.

He doesn’t know how long his eyes have been closed, so he opens them once more. It’s like… it’s like he’s been floating on thick water and is only recently dragged into shore. Rubbing the creak out of his neck, Draco squints.

Past Edmund’s sturdy form and angular lines, out in the main street, the thin crowd of pedestrians pass by in chattering groups and pairs. Opposite to the alley, however, one lone figure stands just out of reach of the street lamp. The yellowish light merely suggests their existence as they lean against the restaurant Draco and Edmund exited from earlier. The bright tell-tale red of a cigarette butt is visible but other than that, no detail to be discerned. Looks like someone who’s just minding their own business.

“You must think yourself funny,” Draco says, arching his neck to accommodate the kisses peppering his skin, “using my own shame against me. I doubt people even remember there’s an alleyway here.”

“Don’t forget that when a being has lived for as long as I have, has accumulated this much power, nine times out of ten, he knows what he’s saying. I’m powerful enough to catch the scent of every mortal walking by, even know if they’re actually mortals or not. Our little voyeur? He’s still here. He’s watching. He’s waiting for you, doll.”

Edmund pauses, then:

“And whether he’s a mortal? That remains to be seen.”

Draco pushes away as far as Edmund’s firm grasp allows, which is only a few centimeters away. Whatever his blood did with Draco’s own, it snaps him awake with startling clarity just as swiftly as when it’s reduced him to a little more than a rag doll. Everything is so sharp it’s almost disgusting, like his eyeballs are gouged out, scrubbed clean, then shoved back in again. Draco locks his legs, willing himself not to stumble.

“That makes no goddamn sense,” he says.

“You don’t feel them now, but wait until they set in,” Edmund tries to tug him back, shrugging when he doesn’t obey. “Your abilities. We’ll go back to the House of Collective tonight and when you wake up tomorrow, you’ll know what I’m talking about.”

“I,” Draco says. “Please say that again. With actual information.”

“So demanding,” Edmund leans back and looks at Draco like he’s seeing him for the first time, a hint of humor in his serene demeanor. “The House of Collective is where the majority of us in Britain frequent and reside. The newly Turned are brought there to be with their brethren. Trying to deal with these new abilities alone is what makes them go Rogue and lands them on the front page. Think Jeannette McDermott, the poor woman.”

Jeannette McDermott drained and devoured 6 people in a single weekend. The Aurors got to her first before the news outlets. Being a shut-in and hating being perceived in general—Merlin knows how she got bitten in the first place—the only pictures ever taken of her as an adult was of her mangled body, torn by her own claws and twisted into stillness. It was a once-in-a-century scandal that paralyzed Wizarding Europe for 2 months straight.

Draco frowns. “I’ve always wondered. How did she—why wasn’t she brought back to the House, then?”

“That’s what irresponsible Turning looks like. If we want to Turn someone, it must be carefully considered and planned, for there must always be more prey than predators. Such is the law of nature,” Edmund says it like it’s a walk in the park rather than changing people’s entire lives. “Deacon Frangos was careless—amateur little weakling—and wanted something more thrilling than, say, going to clubs for gullible drunks.

“During the official trial at the House, he confessed that he spent days working through her wards and broke in. Never expected that McDermott was a fighter. She couldn’t get to her wand, but she did have a knife. She stabbed him 3 times as he was drinking from her. Their blood mixed, and Frangos ran off to lick his wounds before we found him. That was Friday.”

“Merlin and Morgana,” Draco breathes, “that quick?”

Edmund only looks at him, silent as he waits for Draco to weigh his decisions. Or lack thereof.

“What about, what about my apartment? My things?”

“You’ll only be at the House of Collective until we get you accustomed to your new life, then you can return home. Or,” Edmund tilts his head to the side, “you can stay. It’s akin to a commune, there’s space for all. It’s in the middle of the woods, too, hidden behind extensive wards and Charms, very private. Don’t you love your privacy?”

“What, do you live there?”

“Yes! Just so you know, I built my own dwelling. It’s stunning, if I do say so myself. Marble floors, 5 balconies. Just added a new pool last month. Plenty of space to… christen, unlike your studio apartment.”

Edmund lets a casual grin grace his face, all jokes. Draco curls his lips. It’s a mystery for the ages as to how he’s ever found this man charismatic.

“I’d rather the, um, the studio apartment. It does have its charms. Checkered bathroom tiles, and, hmm, a working oven. I might paint the fireplace next week, who knows?”

“Big plans, big plans,” Edmund nods solemnly. “However, you will need to pay a visit at least twice a month for resources and news within the community. There are tons; we even have a matchmaking service so you wouldn’t have to explain yourself to some bumbling mortal and worry about lifespans. Isn’t that so very neat? But, you already have me.”

Edmund shoots him a wink. If he’s not, well, Edmund, Draco might think it’s attractive.

“I think,” he starts. His neck is aching something fierce the longer he looks back, so he turns to face Edmund directly, “we need to have a talk about ending this entanglement.”

“My,” Edmund adjusts without trouble, interlacing his hands behind Draco’s waist, just above his bum. “Must you hurt me so? After all we’ve been through in the past three dates, you want to cast me aside?”

“Those three dates were nothing more than bouts of insanity. My apologies, I was in a moment of weakness and was somehow fooled by your… Merlin, I don’t even know. Basically, you were a passing fancy that I will rue ever having for the rest of my life.”

Edmund sighs and lowers his head until it’s nestled where Draco’s neck joins his shoulders.

“My 161st love has broken my heart. Oh, how can I recover from this pain?”

He lifts his head up, meeting Draco’s unimpressed gaze with a smirk. “Perhaps one last kiss will be the balm I need. Come on, just one more for closure.”

Draco gnaws his bottom lip and wets the still-throbbing cut on it. Then, he rolls his eyes, sliding them shut. No big deal.

“You’re so generous, Draco,” purrs a deep voice right at the corner of his mouth. Draco parts his lips, breathing in the hushed words. “Can’t say I won’t miss this. Your blood truly is a delicacy.”

“Hurry the fuck up.”

Sweet, sweet wine.

Draco sags against Edmund’s strong chest, head lolled to the side, panting. They have stopped before it got too much this time, yet Draco still teeters over the edge of insanity with every suckle of lips, every caress of tongue. Edmund has been gentle, large hands cupping Draco’s face like he’s a priceless treasure made of opals and emeralds, combing through the slightly wavy hair Draco has grown out. He has fixed Draco’s shirt as he plucked off every scrap of sense remaining in Draco’s head, has stroked the purple marks in bloom, and covered them with the bomber jacket.

As Draco clutched those broad shoulders and wrinkled the expensive fabric adorning them, he had half a mind to demand Edmund to be rougher, to stop trying to savor it. Stop making it something to go breathless over.

Toying with the shiny button on Edmund’s wool suit, he reminds himself that it was smart to end whatever they had between them. Otherwise, he can see himself becoming addicted, and such a problem has no place in his life.

“It’s getting late,” he says. The street outside is still bustling with people, bursting with sound. The person leaning against the wall opposite is lighting up a new cigarette.

“Oh, doll,” Edmund hugs him tight. “Darling. You’re right, it’s getting late. ”

They stand there for a few moments more nonetheless, clutching each other. Then Draco sees it. Sees him.

As if on cue, the person straightens from their position against the wall. They step forward, one foot after the other, slack and loose, into the buzzing light. Draco can’t observe intricate details from this far away—has to wait until tomorrow, apparently—but he still has eyes.

A pair of snickering women stroll by, and the street seems empty for a split second. It’s enough for Draco to see large, black boots (Dragonhide, the part of his brain that never forgets Mother’s fashion books notes) and dark, well-fitted pants stretching over thick thighs. Sleeves rolled to the elbow, exposing dark arms with a myriad of pink-white scars. White button-up, wrinkled and stained, tied by leather harnesses crisscrossing at the chest, like the wearer has forgone changing after work and instead hurried off to deal with an urgent task. An unusual outfit for urban London, but somehow, it works.

Left hand tucked in a pants pocket, the other tapping the fine ash from a cig into a puddle on the concrete. It lifts to hover in front of full, waiting lips. One sleepy bloke trudges by, a heavy bag slung over his shoulder. A hazy billow of smoke spills forth lazily as the bloke walks out of view, opaque clouds masking an expressionless face before disintegrating into the night.

“Doll.”

Draco glances back at Edmund, who is staring at his lips. His hands run tiny circles over the small of Draco’s back.

“We decided on one kiss.”

“I know,” Edmund’s thumb swipes over the cut, as soft as a brush dipping into paint. “There’s still blood.”

“Obviously,” Draco says with a slight snort, “you bit it. Like a brute.”

Edmund’s reply comes in the form of his thumb pressing against the cut as if wanting to both stopper the blood and squeeze it out. Draco assists by opening his mouth, slipping the finger into moist warmth. And for some godforsaken reason, his eyes travel back to the street beyond.

This time, both hands are in the pants pockets. The cigarette has stopped its light bouncing, now lying still between pillowy lips. Like before, the voyeur is a statue amidst a sea of movement.

Draco swirls his tongue against the pad of the thumb, tasting himself and gulping it down. It’s bitter and sour without Edmund’s blood to sweeten it up, but he keeps licking until all he can feel is the saltiness of skin, the clenched fistful of his jacket against his hip, and—

And green.

“It’s getting late,” Edmund whispers against his forehead, his lips a touch away from kissing his fringe.

Letting the finger fall from his mouth, Draco whispers back.

“Okay.”

The voyeur never stops looking. Draco knows because neither does he.

“We’re never doing this again.”

Draco’s eyes glide back to Edmund. “I never thought you’d be the one to say that.”

“Me, too. But I’m serious,” the man says, but doesn’t clean his finger. “From now on, we keep our hands to ourselves.”

“And mouths.”

“Yes, those especially.”

Draco huffs out a laugh, “Okay. Very well. I’m glad we’ve reached an agreement.”

Edmund shakes his head, then blinks. He looks up at Draco, mischief in his eyes.

“Alright, Draco, you’ve done enough for the night.”

“Pardon?” Draco says, sliding his arm into the crook of Edmund’s. “You Side-Along us.”

“Of course, and I meant. Merlin, you’ve done quite enough. Oh, goodness, that’s pungent.”

Edmund pats Draco’s hand on his forearm and leans toward his ear.

“Say goodbye to him.”

Draco’s fingers tighten around Edmund’s arm in warning. He doesn’t say ‘goodbye,’ but he does look to the street light opposite the alleyway. Before the Apparition wrenches all the thoughts out of his head, Draco vows not to think about the expression on that face.

#drarrymicrofic #drarry microfic #drarry #drarry fanfiction #drarry fanfic #drarry fic #harry potter #draco malfoy #original male character #vampire #vampire draco #auror harry potter?#cursebreaker?#who knows #cigarette #how long can nancy go w/o writing the word ‘vampire’ challenge #there’s no particular purpose for that btw i just wanted to make things hard for myself #‘oh man i dont think im really that comfy w the idea of writing drarry being intimate just yet’#solution: shamelessly abusing the drarry tag to write about another pair that’s not even endgame #had a lot of fun writing edmund #was planning for this to be a lil sexy vampy moment then BOOM plot idea #wait why did i just realize that the house of collective sounds like a house’s name in ballroom culture #ykw it’s very fitting in fact vampires are all very queer #joonkorre writes

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mazzy-moon · 3 years

Text

A Lone Butterfly - Chapter 1

Title: Chapter 1 ~ Captive

Word Count: 1650

Warnings: Mentions of kidnapping and brief descriptions of violence. Allusions to rape. Overall this story has some pretty heavy subject matter.

Pairing: Javier Peña (Narcos) x Isabel Cotrille (OFC)

Summary: Isabel is captured by the cartel and seeks to find a way out.

Notes: This chapter is not explicit, but things may get spicy in later chapters. Go to my blog for more chapters. I will post chapters every few days as I finish writing them. If you take the time to read this, thank you so much! Would love feedback if you are so inclined.

I wake up to my hands tied above my head. The thin cord of rope gnaws against the tender skin of my wrist, immobilizing me. A numbing ache runs through my head as I tilt my eyes back to find the binding. The skin of my wrists are rubbed practically raw and every tiny movement of my hand is torture. I force movement anyway, pushing through the pain. My numb arms start to wake up also, and with it comes stinging soreness. I've been trapped like this for quite a while. I start to panic. Where am I? How will I get out of here? I have to get out. I have to. I wriggle my wrists against the binding desperately, immediately regretting it. The pain travels down from arms into my shoulders. I groan, not being able to keep quiet. I wish for the oblivion of sleep to relieve me once again.

Through tears, I look down at my scantily clad body. Bruises. I'm covered in them. A canvas of blueish purple splotches appear on my chest, and my upper thighs. One larger area, darker than the others covers the skin underneath my breasts. I take a sharp breath in and muffle a scream at the pain. I'd broken a rib, at least one anyway. I do my best to shove the pain away to a place at the far reach of my mind. I can't let it distract me. I have to get out of here. For a few minutes I just sit, taking soft breaths, willing myself to be strong. My memory slowly but surely comes back into focus.

I remember fighting. Kicking, screaming, punching until I was completely devoid of the energy to do anything at all. I remember rough hands shoving me onto the threadbare mattress, pinning my arms down. The same mattress I am on now in this dark, cement walled room. I try to remember the time before this black hole of a room. How the hell did I get here? Pieces of my memory come to me as images flash through my head like a scrapbook.

I'm driving along an empty country road. Where was I going? Two men in workers uniforms stand before me. A rusted vehicle. An accident. Did they hit me or did I hit them? Squirming between two sets of iron hands forcing me in the back of the van. Pushing. Shoving. Both from me and him. Hands. Hands on me while I'm in a half daze. Waking up in a room similar to this one, only there's no mattress just a cold concrete floor. I can still feel it chilling my exposed skin. A man is there above me. Forcing myself to stand, to fight. Blinding pain as he throws me back on the ground. A punch to the temple. Darkness.

I will myself to focus on something else, anything else. I can't force the unrelenting memories away, but if I don't forget them for now I won't be able to figure out how to get out of this nightmare that has become my reality. I survey the small space as my eyes start to adjust to the dim lighting. A small wooden desk placed near the pallet I'm on holds a lamp. There's concrete floors here, too. No windows though, and I realize the faint light illuminating the room comes from a crack beneath the door.

I freeze. Noises come from somewhere outside. I make out a hoarse male voice, speaking harshly in Spanish to someone. I try to decipher what's being said but my Spanish is limited to a few a phrases. A few seconds pass and loud grunting noises intensify as I realize what must be taking place somewhere not far from me. Is a there a room beside me? Is there another girl here? How long before someone comes in my room? I'm terrified to find out. I hear feminine cries and lose some of my hope.

What if I die here? I will never see my mother again. She can't lose me and my father. I won't let it happen. She must be worried sick. How long has it been that she hasn't known where I am? With no siblings, and no other family left we are all each other has. I left my apartment in the states after my father was killed to stay with her here in Columbia. Now she will be all alone.

I continue to breathe slowly in and out to keep from trembling.

"Focus, Isabel," I whisper to myself.

I attempt to inch up into a sitting position. It's tortuous. Everything hurts. It seems as if every muscle in my body has been pulled, and I catch an achy feeling between my legs that I choose to ignore. My shoulders introduce me to a new kind of agony as I shift them and the rest of my torso upright. My sense of time is nonexistent, but from the suffocating ache spreading from my shoulders, down my arms, and through my back I realize I must have been contorted like this for many hours. Once my rear is almost flush with the wall, I allow myself a break. Tears cascade down my face at the pain from my ribs. Determined, I peer over at my bound wrists. They're tied to a metal rod protruding from the wall on my right side. Immediately, I start rubbing my hands back and forth against the rod, hoping the friction will disintegrate the cord. I keep at it for what seems like an eternity, but must have only been around five minutes. The rope doesn't budge.

I search for an alternative solution. My eyes hunt for something sharp enough to cut through the ties. That's when I spot something purple lying on the ground. Flung a few feet from the desk is a pair of underwear I recognize as my own. A wave of nausea cascades through me, and I almost throw up. The realization of what's been done to me sinks me into a fury of grief and anger. A silent sob escapes me and I can't breathe. My throat threatens to close up, and the air in the room feels sticky against my skin. I brace myself for some violent memory, but it doesn't come. Maybe I was knocked into unconsciousness. Maybe that's why I can't remember. I suddenly feel the urge to escape my body, to be somewhere else. I want to scrub layers off of my skin until I'm clean again. I float off for a second and force myself back into reality. I have to stop. There's no time to process what I'm feeling right now, and I have to get out of here. The new wave of anger makes me even more determined and I take advantage of it. There's nothing sharp that I can tell, nothing to cut through the rope that is nearly cutting off my circulation. I'll have to be more creative. I glance at the desk lamp to my right. There's no lampshade, just an exposed bulb. My right wrist is within inches from it. I lift my feet from the mattress and onto the cold floor. I stand up, hands still bound to the wall.

I mutter a curse as my ribs scream at me again from the movement. I position my arm in order to attempt to use the force of my elbow to crack the glass bulb against the brick wall. It doesn't work. I try again, and again, and again. The fourth time I gather strength from a place I can't comprehend, and manage to crush the glass bulb. Now there's nothing protecting the exposed filament from it's surroundings. I hunch myself over so that the base of the lamp is between my shoulder and the side of my face. The position of my body is awkward and painful, but I'm able to angle the lamp so that the lit filament comes in contact with the rope. It's working. The rope is turning to ash against the heat. I cry in relief as the scorching wire sizzles at my skin and the rope breaks free.

The victory gives me a rush of adrenaline, but I still have to figure out how to get out of this hell hole. I look down and see that I'm still in the outfit from the day the van hit me. My pale orange sundress is filthy and ripped nearly to my hip. I remember having my denim jacket on that day, but it is nowhere to be found. I look around for shoes to cover my bare feet, those are missing also. Okay, so I was going to have to do this barefoot and barely clothed.

Male voices approach outside my door and I scoot to the small space behind the door. There's no place to hide in here, and I don't know what I'll do if one of them comes in.

The footsteps grow louder and then fainter as they pass by my room. I wait until I can't hear them anymore, then let go of a nervous breath. Carefully, I try at the door knob. It twists underneath my hand. The idiots actually left it unlocked. I let go of the knob and scan the room once more, this time looking for some kind of protection to take with me. I know my options are limited, but I can't go out there with nothing. Who knows who or what I'll run into. I run over to the desk and quickly open the small drawer. Nothing. I swallow hard. My eyes fall to the ground and settle on the shattered glass from the lightbulb. One jagged piece is larger than the others. I pick it up and head back to the door. I listen for voices or footsteps once more. Nothing. I ease the door open and step outside.

#javier pena #javier pena fic #narcos #javier pena imagine #javier pena fanfiction #narcos fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #a lone butterfly series #javier peña

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 years

Text

The Prince and the Pauper

Warnings: noncon/dubcon elements (rough sex, public-ish, cuck-ish behaviour), some violence

This is dark!Thor and ft. Loki Reader and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: During Loki’s stay in Asgard’s prison, he finds companionship in a fellow prisoner. Thor, still bitter about his betrayal and ever stoking their brotherly rivalry, takes unkindly to this unexpected friendship.

Note: Alrighty, so first off, mind the warnings! Secondly, this is rough, like really rough. I don’t know but when I write dark!Thor, he’s so mean. I can’t even explain it and I’m sorry to Loki. Omg but anyway, it takes place when Loki’s imprisoned at the beginning of Dark World and before all the mess with Dark Elves and fake stabbings. Also I didn’t wriite his cell as having a force field because I’m a dumb fuck. Thank you. But anyway, bon appetit.

Leave some feedback, like and reblog if you can <3

He woke you up early. Not on purpose, it was never on purpose, but he always had a way of disturbing you. Ever since his arrival; and before, in his own way. From a distance, though you’d never met. No citizen of Asgard could escape the golden rays of their royal family and you were of many who had been burned by them.

Six years. You could be thankful that the cell wasn’t entirely grim, the front wall a window, though it looked out on nothing more than stone. An artificial light above you, a hard bench as your bed, facilities in a small booth in the corner; the bare minimum of living. Not much different than before.

And you heard it again. The clicking, the metallic whir that had woken you and kept you thus. You sighed and banged your elbow against your shared wall. “Whatever it is you're playing with, stop! You’re going to drive me mad.”

“You’re awake?” He replied.

“Have been for a while now,” You snarled. “Thank you.”

Loki chuckled. You rolled your eyes and went back to braiding the laces of your boots. They were fraying and ready to break. You didn’t have much to keep yourself occupied; not like him apparently. Though he did offer you respite with his little word games now and then. More often, he irritated you.

“Ahem.” He cleared his throat and you heard a metallic object being set down.

“You’re down in these cells with me, we’re past the whole ‘your highness’ charade.” You grumbled. “Aren’t we?”

“I suppose, peasant,” He japed. You closed your eyes and huffed.

You heard a light tap on whatever metal he had been toying with before. “Please… Could you allow me a few moments without all the fidgeting?”

He laughed again but stopped. You heard his soft footsteps and saw his shadow as it was skewed by the glass before him. Side by side, it was all you ever saw of him. “How about a game, then?”

“I’m too tired for your riddles.”

“We’ll make it easy. How well do you know the city?”

“I know the south well.” You shrugged. “Haven’t really the coin to go beyond the Market Line.”

“Good enough,” He replied. “So this is how the game works. I shall start with a short explanation of a certain location. You can guess at what I have in mind or ask a question; yes or no only. Up to five and then you lose.”

“And if I lose?”

“You can sing me song.” You could hear his smirk.

“I’m tone deaf.”

“So I suspect it will be even more a loss for you.” He chimed.

“And if I win?” You asked.

“Well, as you can imagine, even with shackles, I have certain privileges,” He preened. “Perhaps a special dinner could be left in your cell? Do you like wine?”

“Common folk don’t drink wine and if they do, it isn’t very good.” You countered. “I’ll take the dinner.”

“Ale then, palace ale too. It might just keep you from waking at the smallest twitch.” He mused.

“Go on then,” You moved to lay down with your feet stretched towards the glass. The stone cool beneath you. “Let’s play your game.”

“There’s a tree outside with a broken branch and the door is painted. It has a round window on the upper floor and an alleyway on the east side.” He stated and you heard his fingertips tapping on the glass.

“That’s it?” You asked and he stayed silent. “Well, if I guess do I forfeit a question?”

“Yes. Five tries. Though if you ask a question, you can guess without detriment.”

“Is it a tavern?” You asked.

“No.” He said plainly.

“The Copper’s Book Shop.” You guessed.

“No.” He replied quickly.

“Is it a shop?” You ventured.

“That’s two, and yes.”

“Hmm,” You wiggled your foot as you thought. “Broken tree… wait.” You sat up. “Holleran’s.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Yes, that’s it.”

“That’s north of the Line,” You sniffed. “You broke your own rules.”

“It was never stated as a rule,” He said coyly. “And besides, you won. Fish or venison?”

“Fresh-baked bread and spiced chicken.” You answered with a smile. “Simple but better than the gruel they serve here.”

“Sounds oddly delectable,” You heard him sit as a chair scraped. “I’ll inform the gaoler when he next app--”

He went silent as he was interrupted by the sound of the gears just around the corner from his cell. The large door which sealed the prison informed you of all visitors and new arrivals. You pushed yourself to your feet and went to the window to peer down the hall.

Two guards in armor appeared and then another man; tall, blonde, broad. It wasn’t his first visit. You’d met him outside this place though you doubted he remembered you. You quickly retreated to your bench along the back wall. The metallic click started again.

“Brother,” Loki greeted staunchly and was echoed cheerfully by his brother. “What brings you here? Surely this place cannot be preferable to Asgard, even when it rains.”

“We are still family,” Thor insisted. “And mother does bid me to see to you as much as she does.”

“And what of Father?” Loki bristled. “Does he not bid you forget me?”

“I didn’t come to provoke you,” Thor insisted. There was a slight pause.

“What did you come for?” Loki intoned. “What are you looking at?”

“Hmm?” Thor grumbled. “Oh, nothing. I come to see if there is anything you desire.”

“A key?” Loki japed. “Beyond that, I want for nothing you can give me.”

“We did hunt a wild boar. If you would like a plate…” Thor offered.

“Chicken.” He interjected. “And fresh bread. For me and the cell to the left of me. I owe them.”

“Owe them?” Thor wondered and there was another lull. You kept your head down but sensed the shadow at the edge of your window. “For what, exactly?”

“A bet. Children’s games.” Loki brushed off. “Really, it is boring down here for all. We do while our time away in rather unspectacular ways.”

“Chicken and bread.” Thor repeated and his shadow disappeared beyond the wall. “Certainly. Anything else? More books?”

“My quill’s are dull,” Loki replied. “I need nibs. Parchment too. Perhaps a candle or two.”

“Mhmm,” Thor hummed in response. “Sure, I can do that. Why Loki, this prison is almost preferable to the palace.”

“Always seeing the golden shine, brother,” Loki mulled. “So shallow, so naive. If only father could see that, he would know who was better fit to the throne.”

“Ah, but his knowing cannot change who was born first.” Thor replied smugly.

“No, it cannot,” Loki agreed. “Are you done?”

“Are you?” Thor countered. Silence. The shadow again. “I’ll leave you to your… games, brother. Perhaps next time, we can play one.”

You listened to the departure of the older prince and his guards. The door closed and the gears ground loudly. Not a second after, a metallic shatter bounced against the wall. Then a chair toppled and Loki’s footsteps grew heavier as he paced his cell.

“It smells of the docks and there’s wines along the back wall,” You began. “The front step is crooked and there’s a line of bushes outside, just along the west.” Silence. “Five guesses.”

He sighed; long and loud. “Is it a merchant?” He asked.

⚡

It was a week before the prince received another visit. It was Thor again and like the last time, Loki was less than keen on his presence. You sat in your cell, on the hard bench, and dragged your nail along the mortar lazily. Their voices were easy enough to ignore; their arguments one and the same.

And then you sensed it. The movement behind you. You kept yourself distracted with the wall. Then the shadow came closer until it stood at the centre of the window. You found it hard not to peek over your shoulder but you focused on the bricks.

“I know you from somewhere.” Thor said.

“Do you?” You asked.

“I must. I’ve seen you before.” He insisted.

“That doesn’t mean you know me.” You replied without looking.

“Leave her alone,” Loki hissed.

“I am just talking with her, brother,” Thor said. “No harm in that. Besides, you aren’t her keeper, merely a fellow prisoner.”

“She doesn’t want to talk with you.” Loki sneered.

“My lady, what got you down here?” Thor turned back to you as he ignored his brother.

“I’m not a lady, for one thing,” You turned on the bench and looked at him. “I suppose it’s why I robbed that royal ship and unmoored it so that it was lost to the depths.”

“Oh, you were one of them,” He stepped closer to the glass. “That must be it.”

“And so the mystery is solved,” Loki growled. “Let her be. It’s grim enough down here without your interrogation.”

“Grim, indeed,” Thor remained at your cell. “Do you read? Draw? I could have you provided with some instruments to ease your tedium?”

“Me?” You scoffed. “No. Thank you. I have no want for your generosity.”

“Pity, more like,” Thor corrected. “But, as you will.”

He lingered a moment as you stared back at him. He grinned and turned away as his cloak swirled around him. He tapped on the glass of his brother’s cell as he passed. “Take care, brother.”

⚡

It was several days before anything further of note occurred. It was easy to track in a place like this. Something was stark in contrast to nothing. You walked the perimeter of the cell as you thought through Loki’s latest riddle. Every now and then, he’d offer a hint through it was more gloating than actual concern. You would say no and go back to your thoughts.

‘My beak is bent downward, I burrow below; I grub in the ground and go as he guides, My gray, old master, foe of the forest. Stoop-shouldered my warder walks at my back, Fares through the field, urges and drives me, Sows in my track as I sniff along. Fetched from the wood, cunningly fitted, Brought in a wagon, I have wondrous skill. As I go my way on one side is green; On the other side plain is my dark path. Set through my back hangs a cunning spike; Another fixed forward is fast to my head. What I tear with my teeth falls to one side, If he handles me right who is my ruler.’

You ran it over and over in your head. He was growing impatient, you could hear him tapping on his table. You bit your lip and stopped in place. You tried to concentrate.

“Um…” You mumbled. “A… A plow?”

“Pardon?” He said from the other side. The tapping stopped.

“A plow. It’s a plow isn’t it?”

“It is,” He confirmed. “Your turn?”

“Oh, let me think.”

“Did you not just think for a long time?” He taunted.

“Well, do you want a good one or is an imbalanced victory still victory for you?” You retorted.

“Go on. Think.” He said sharply.

You leaned against the wall but were quickly jolted by the gears turning. Loki’s shadow neared yours as they skewed over the stone floor outside the glass wall. A gaoler appeared alongside a man in plain clothing. He held a bundle in his hands that bore a golden seal. The guard followed closely as he passed the prince’s cell and stopped before yours. You eyed the hammer pressed into the wax seal attached to the thick cord around his armful.

“Back. Against the wall.” The guard held up his baton. “Now.”

You frowned and slowly back up until you were against the brick. The glass slowly slid up and the gaoler nodded to the messenger. He stepped forward and placed the bundle on your cell floor. You watched him in confusion. He retreated and the glass descended back into place.

“What is this?” You asked as the messenger turned to leave.

“From the prince,” He supplied and continued on. The guard followed without a word.

The door closed behind them as you listened. It was still for a minute and then you stepped forward.

“Well, what is it?” Loki asked.

“Don’t know.” You answered.

“So… aren’t you going to look?” He urged.

“From the prince? Surely you know.”

“Not this prince,” He scoffed. “Ah, my brother thinks he coy.”

“I don’t understand.” You kept far from the present.

“Do you think the guards live more exciting live than us? No, they gossip and they sell any sliver worthy of gold.” He laughed darkly. “He knows we are acquainted. That we speak. He takes our games as more than they are and he thinks to win. Again. My brother has ever wanted for all he saw others have.”

“Riddles? Children’s games?” You shook your head. “Besides, he said it himself; you’re not my keeper.”

“No, but by law, he is,” Loki sounded perturbed. “I suppose he seeks to remind you of that.”

“I don’t want his gifts.” You insisted.

“I don’t blame you. They never come free.” He replied.

You neared and stared down. An envelope poked out from the cord around the canvas wrapped lump. “There’s a letter.”

“Oh… what does it say?” He paused. “Can you--”

“I can read,” You assured him and took the envelope. You slipped the leaf from within and sighed. “‘My lady’, ha, he’s a charmer isn’t he?” You scoffed. “‘I did think upon what tedium should accompany such imprisonment. And to think that of your limited company, you should also suffer my own brother. So I have provided to you some things to ease your boredom. His royal highness, Prince Thor of Asgard.’”

You enunciated his title emphatically and tucked away the letter. You dropped it atop the bundle and turned away.

“So… what did he give you?” Loki asked again.

“I don’t care,” You sat on the bench and held your chin in your hands. “I’m not accepting it.”

“Oh?” He wondered.

“Well, knowing you, I suspect tricks might run in the family.” You said.

“Ah,” He added another syllable. “You might not be wrong.”

⚡

Two days later. The bundle stayed where it was, even as your meals were delivered. But your breakfast didn’t come that day. Not on time.

The door whirred to announce more than the guard. Two in golden armour and the usual in his silver mail. They walked behind the prince, Thor, who acknowledged his brother with only a smirk. You backed up against the wall of your cell and watched him approach.

There was a train of servants too; one with a tray, one with a stack of dishes and cutlery, another with an ewer, another with a table, and a third with a pair of chairs. The guard barked at you to stay and the glass slowly opened.

“Brother…” Loki’s voice was a low warning.

“Shortly, Loki, I do have other business to attend before I get to you.” Thor’s eyes didn’t leave you as the servants set up their wares in you cell. You frowned and crossed your arms. The glass remained open and the guards stood at either corner. “My lady.”

“I am a peasant.” You insisted. “And a criminal besides that.”

He sat as the tray was uncovered. “I thought you might be hungry.”

“The gruel is good enough.” You insisted.

“Sit.” He waved to the other chair. “Tell me you wouldn’t like something a little more solid?” He picked up a rasher and waved it in the air. “A little more flavourful?”

You glared at him. Even as a prisoner, you could not disobey the prince. You neared slowly and sat reluctantly but made no move to help yourself to the food. He didn’t seem to care as he loaded a plate for you. He placed it before you and sat back.

“You haven’t touched my gifts?” He asked.

“There is no reason for them.” You said evenly.

“Does there need to be?” He took a bite of bacon. “A kind gesture. Rare, but I wouldn’t think unwelcome for you.”

“Not much I welcome about this place.” You said.

“Well, aren’t you going to eat?” He asked. You raised your brows and slowly reached to your plate. “There are books. One to sketch in and some charcoal.” He nodded to the bundle still on your floor. “I can get you paints.”

“What am I ever going to sketch in this place? The wall?” You swallowed.

“Then you can read.” He offered.

“Too restless to read,” You said.

“Restless?” He repeated. “Yes, I can see how.”

You ate quietly as he rubbed his chin. He leaned back as he grabbed his cup and drank.

“So, what if I gave you something to do? You’d still be serving your sentence, of course, but you wouldn’t have to stay here.”

His eyes strayed to the wall against Loki’s cell. You blinked and wiped your hands with the napkin.

“You could be my chambermaid. My own recently went to work for my mother instead.” He grinned. “A couple hours a day away from here…”

“I don’t think I would be very adept at that role.” You said.

“I do. You seem a bright woman. Quick with your tongue and surely on your feet.” He mused. “Tell me you’d not rather remain here in these cells… with him?”

“My decision is hardly affected by your brother,” You assured him. “I haven’t any desire to serve you or your family. That is how I ended up here so it would be a disservice to myself and the common folk of this kingdom to bow to you now.”

His smirk fell. He took another bite of bacon and shoveled some hash into his mouth. He sighed. “I’ll let you think about it,” He uttered at last. “I really do think you should consider this more deeply.”

You nodded and looked away from him. Loki’s shadow stood in the corridor just beside your cell. He was listening. You pushed away the plate and stood. “You know, I’m not all that hungry after all.”

⚡

Thor left and Loki was silent. You heard him move now and then but he didn't speak. There was tension in the air but you couldn't tell if it was for you or his brother. You kept quiet.

When you laid down across the hard bench, he had yet to speak. He wasn't always talkative but your riddles, your games, had grown routine. You were restless and when you finally slept, you dreamt of the prince.

Not the one on the other side of the wall but the one which had come within. He stood outside your window and watched. That's all. Just watched. And smiled. That smile was terrifying.

You awoke with a start. A figure stood outside your wall but it was only the guard with your breakfast. The usual bowl of grey slop. He slid it through the small slot meant for the purpose and marched away. You took it and stirred it with a grimace.

"You should've accepted his offer." Loki intoned. "It might have saved you that vile fare."

"I'd rather this." You took a mouthful and choked it down.

"Why? It's horrid down here."

"Are you so eager to see me work for your family? Would it give you some peripheral sense of superiority?" You wondered.

"Not at all. I only know, it wasn't a careless offer." He said.

"Which means?"

"My brother is not used to being told no." He said. "He'll surely ask again."

"Why?"

"I've asked myself the same." His shadow loomed in the hallway. "Suppose it's as much about me as you. If not more so… He always has to have it all."

"So I should say yes and achieve what exactly?"

"Some luxury in such a dull life." He offered. "Or perhaps he would see that his little ploy is meaningless and he will leave you be."

"Meaningless?" You echoed. "Ah yes, because it wouldn't bother you at all, would it? I am still, after all, just a peasant."

"That is not what I said." He insisted.

"So… you would care?" You asked.

"I didn't say that either."

"Well, you wouldn't care about me but you would care that he would take away your toy."

"Toy… no, that's not--"

"Don't worry. I never thought any differently but the trade was even. I distracted you, you distracted me, and it was all a little more bearable." You shrugged and took another scoop of porridge. "I can't quite see you over there but let me tell you what I can guess at; you've got a nice bed, yes? A sofa even. A table. Some baubles and some real toys. A bookcase too and--"

"But I am still down here." He interrupted. "As you are."

"So you are but your privilege follows you," You held the brim of the bowl before your lips. "Doesn't it?"

⚡

The days grew longer. Quieter. Loki was less talkative than those first days in the prison. You waited for a riddle, for a game, but it never came. It didn't matter. You were there years before him and he'd no doubt be out before you. There was something about his demeanour which always suggested he saw it as little more than a brief sojourn in a life unspent.

And then he wasn't quiet. You heard a light thump against the glass of his cell. His shadow moved quickly across the floor and back to the corner nearest you. He said your name. You pushed yourself from the bench and neared him.

"He's… I can sense it." His voice was full of a concern you'd never heard from him. Much more than his usual apathy. "He is coming and he is up to no good."

"Who? Thor?" You scoffed. "When has he ever--"

"I'm serious." He hissed as the gears of the door began to tick outside your cells. "Appease him if you can but by gods, do not provoke him."

"What? You're--"

"I know him well despite our bad blood." He spoke hurriedly as the door opened slowly. "My brother can be cruel, not that any ever believed me."

"I…" You took a step back. His tone, his sudden change, it did not bode well. This wasn't a game. "Is he here for you?" You whispered as royal guards appeared at the end of the hall.

"No, I'm sure he is not." He uttered and whisked away as he raised his voice. "Brother, back so soon? I did hope to request some more books. I've exhausted my collection already and--"

Thor sneered and waved his brother off as he continued towards your cell. You backed up so fast you almost stumbled and pressed yourself to the wall. He stared at you, a tic in his jaw as he motioned for the glass to be lifted. As it did, your eyes rounded.

"I've been thinking on you," He stepped inside. "I have heard you like games." You watched him wordlessly as he reached into his tunic. "So, I thought we could play one."

"Don't," Loki warned from the other cell though you could not tell if he spoke to you or his brother.

"Chance." He revealed a half dozen golden dice. "Simple."

"Why are you doing this?" Loki called.

"Why, brother, I am merely seeking to entertain her," Thor neared you and loomed over you. "As you have. Hopefully more."

"She is a prisoner. An enemy of our family." Loki argued.

"And yet you collude with her as if she were a friend," Thor smirked and grabbed your arm. "Come, sit and we will go over the rules."

"I don't want to play," You tried to resist as he dragged you from the wall. "Please."

"You will play with a trickster but not me?" He turned you so sharply you were dizzy. "Though as you are a prisoner, I see not how your desires should matter. So sit." He shoved you so that you stumbled. "And let's have some fun."

He didn’t flinch and you lowered yourself to the floor to sit on your heels. He sat too and placed the dice between you. You looked to the guards as they watched silently from the hall. You turned back to him and frowned.

“Take one. Roll it and we’ll see who’s up first, eh.” He said.

“Thor--” Loki’s voice rose from the next cell.

“Go back to your books, brother,” Thor called back and kept his eyes on you. “Take one.”

You reached out cautiously as he scooped up a die in kind. He tossed his and you did the same, they bounced across the stone noisily. Loki’s long sigh filled the void. Your block showed six dots as the prince’s read five. He slapped the stone and pushed the pile of dice towards you.

“Your turn first,” He announced. “For each die you match, you get a point; if they should count in order, ten points, and if they all match, twenty. You get three rolls and you may recast whatever die you wish. Simple enough?”

“Simple.” You affirmed. You paused as you stared back at him. He merely smirked and waited.

“Oh,” He began as you gathered up the dice. “We forgot to set the prize.”

“Prize?” You cradled the dice in your hands.

“We’ll start small. You win, you get the meal of your choice. I win… you get the meal of my choice. With me.”

“And if I should forfeit here and now?” You asked.

“Too late for that,” He leaned back on his hands. “Roll.”

You inhaled and let the dice fall. They rolled and bumped on the stone and stilled at last. Three fours and a single two. You glanced up and swiped the two off the floor and tossed it again. A five. One more try. You had to keep from a grin as the four turned its face up at you. Thor chuckled.

“Twenty points.” He declared. “Though if it is a draw, we will restart.”

His large hand covered the dice as he picked them up and let them go. You listened to the golden cubes against the stone. Three ones, a six, and a two. He shook his head and scooped up the six and the two. He shook the die for a time in his hand before he let them go again. Another one and a five. He took the five and met your eye as he rolled his final turn. He looked down and you did too. A three.

“Damn,” He swore. “A winner, my lady.”

You nodded and looked past him. The guards stared at the ceiling or their feet, unbothered by this little show. Loki’s shadow lurked in the corner. Listening against the glass.

“Anything but gruel is fine by me,” You said as you made to stand.

“We are not done yet. Two more rounds.” He insisted. “This one, we will have a better prize, hmmm?”

You sat back on your heel and shrugged. You waited for him to continue.

“If you win, you may as of me anything; a book, a pen, a visitor of your choice, perhaps a new bed.” He looked over at the bench and cringed. “Though I might be swayed to provide that out of decency.”

“And if I requested peace? For you to leave me as I was?” You ventured. “What then?”

“If that is what you should ask of me, I will see you to your solitary,” He said sharply. “And peace you shall have.”

You winced at the edge in his voice. You rubbed your neck and shifted on your knees. “A chair…” You said softly. “A chair would appease me.”

“Very well.” He allowed. “And my prize; a single day.” You raised a brow, confused. “With you, my lady. Perhaps I might show you how Asgard has improved since your imprisonment. Perhaps… you might not begrudge me so vehemently then.”

“Perhaps.” You said. “So… do I roll first again?”

He nodded and waited. You took up the die. This time none of the blocks matched but you only need a three to give you straight. You took the six and tossed it. Easy. Ten points and likely a win unless he could draw or match every die. He didn’t. Four points for as many twos.

“You shall have your chair,” He swept up the dice. “And now our final round.”

“No…” Loki was so quiet you weren’t certain he had spoken but it made the hair on your neck stand.

“This should be interesting.” He offered you the dice and you reached to take them. His rough fingers brushed your palm as you did. “If you win, you’re free. I leave this door open and you walk out, absolved.”

You nearly dropped the dice as you blinked at him. “What?”

“Oh yes, a third win and you shall be rid of both of us.” He nodded to the wall. “A fine prize, indeed.”

“And if you win?” You asked quietly, almost breathless.

His lips curved beneath his golden beard and pushed his golden hair back with his hands. “Well, should I win, then my prize would be… You.”

You pushed yourself back from him. Startled. You stood, the dice still in your fist. You looked around frantically. Something was amiss. He was too certain. But there was no escape. You were trapped and you expected, this was no game of chance. Not truly.

“This game is over.” You held out your hand. “I don’t want your prizes. Keep them.”

“This game ends when I say,” He got up on his knees and walked toward you. He grabbed your wrist and pulled you back down. “So, sit.” He snarled. “And roll.”

His grip was enough to crush your bones and you fell back to your knees. He let go and you looked down at the blocks in your hand. You shook your head and closed your eyes. You curled your fingers around them slowly and sighed.

“Oh,” He added. “And this round will be one roll only.”

Your eyes snapped open and you swallowed. You felt brittle as your nerves threatened to shatter. You lowered your head and tossed the dice; resigned to their fate. Three threes, a six, and a five. You kept your eyes on the floor as he collected the blocks and shook them loudly in his hand.

You held your breath and he threw them to clatter on the floor. Three sixes and a four as the last rolled across the stone towards you. It still just beside your knee and you looked down in dread. Six dots; each etched into the gold and painted white. Your throat tightened and your shoulders slumped. Fuck.

“Thor!” Loki cried as he pounded on the glass. “Don’t! She didn’t--”

“Oh, I remember,” Thor boomed. “I remember her well. This little wench I found in the backstreets. Hands covered in gunpowder; soul coated in dirt. Oh, yes,” He shoved the dice out of the way as he leaned in and grabbed your chin. “I remember those words you painted on that ship; the coin you shared with your fellow rodents.”

You looked at him and gritted your teeth. His hand fell to your throat and he squeezed.

“Of course, you’d be partial to her, brother.” He stood and you were forced to your feet as he gripped you tightly. “She’s just like you, isn’t she?”

“Stop!” Loki hammered on the glass. “She has done nothing to you.”

“She stole from our family; from our kingdom.” Thor dragged you to the door. “And you sit down here and humour her. Do you truly think your little coup aligns you with this bitch? Brother, do not lower yourself so.”

You grabbed onto his arm as he choked you and kicked your feet against the stone as he nearly lifted you entirely.

“Open his door; restrain him.” Thor barked.

“What are you--” Loki cried out and you heard his body crumple to the floor.

The guards approached his cell as his door slid open. He grunted as he was seized and Thor drew you with him along the hall. The dark-haired prince was sat in a chair, hands cuffed behind his back as a metal collar was secured around his neck and attached to the restraints. The guard jabbed him again in the rib with his baton and Loki yelped and pulled against his bounds. Another chain, golden and glowing, secured him to the chair.

“She didn’t--” Loki hissed as the guard threatened another jolt. “Thor, please.”

“I remember what you said then, brother,” Thor pulled you into the cell. He turned you and shoved you across the room. You collided with the long table and several books toppled over its edge. “Hmm? You said they were filthy peasants; greedy and immoral. Entirely inhuman, eh?”

You tried to push yourself up but Thor was upon you in a moment. He grabbed the back of your neck and forced you to bend over the table. You turned your head beneath his weight and your cheek pressed to the smooth wood. Loki stared at you; as helpless as you were. Shocked, even. It was the first time he’d seen you; the first time you were more than a voice through the wall.

“And now… you’re one of them.” Thor brought his other hand up and ran it along your back as he pressed himself behind you. “You would betray our father, our family.” He snarled as he shoved your shirt up. “And you have not learned. You sit down here and act as you always have. As if it was all just a game.”

You squirmed and reached out as you tried to pulled yourself away from him. He reached to your head and pulled it back by your hair.��

“Look at her. I can see the appeal but… Brother, you are still a prince.” He slammed your head back down and silver spots swam in your eyes. “Is this what you want? Hmm?”

His fingers pushed beneath the waist of your pants and he tugged until the button popped off. You clawed at his hand as he crushed your head to the wood. You kicked as he forced a leg between yours. He pulled your pants lower and you whimpered. Your eyes met Loki’s green ones. He wrestled with the cuffs and the guards stunned him again with the club.

You closed your eyes as he cried out. Your ass was bared and your pants gathered around your ankles. Thor wiggled against you so that you could feel his arousal. You grunted and tried to wriggle away. He chuckled and carefully unlaced his trousers, his rough fingers brushed against you.

“Don’t you close your eyes,” Thor growled and you opened yours as Loki’s widened in horror. “You are many things but you are no coward, brother.”

You felt a prod against your thigh. Your toes scuffed on the stone as Thor dragged his tip along your ass. You squeaked and squirmed helplessly. He guided himself lower as his hand trailed from your head to your hip. He pushed so that you were forced to arch your back.

He was at your entrance in a moment. You whined and he rubbed himself along your folds with a hum. You lifted your head and let it fall back to the table heavily. He pushed inside slowly and reached behind you to try to fend him off. He sank into you entirely as he caught your arms and twisted them up against your back.

You exclaimed and he held himself inside of you. Your walls ached as he rolled his hips. You hissed and tears pricked at your eyes. He pulled back only to slam into you again and you yiped. He did it again, again, again. Each cry only seemed to encourage him.

You clamped your lips shut. Your eyes blurred as the tears gathered and Loki’s jaw tensed as he watched. He sagged in his chair as his chest rose and fell. Your entire body jolted as Thor thrust into you and the table scraped on the stone floor. He released your arms and gripped your hips instead. He pulled you back into him as he fucked you without mercy.

You couldn’t help the pathetic mewls that rose from you. Your hips hit the wood each time he moved you and your head pounded terribly. Your walls felt as if they would tear as he plunged into you. His pelvis crashed against your ass over and over. You scratched at the wood of the table as you tried to gain any foothold.

He drew you to your feet. He hooked his arms through yours and rocked into you with loud moans, each one mirrored by your weak groans. He turned you to face Loki as he sped up. The sickly noises filled the cell as you hung your head. You couldn’t look at the other prince. You could barely keep from collapsing entirely.

Thor wrapped his arms around your middle and drew you against him. His hot breath crawled along your neck and his grunts rang in your ears. Your eyes rolled back as you panted, your body a puppet in his hands. He rutted into you until you could no longer withhold your sobs. Until your cheeks were wet with your surrender.

And he roared. You felt the sudden warmth within as he slowed. He shuddered as he pulled himself from you and his cum spilled down your thighs. He laughed and dropped you. Your legs wobbled as you tried to catch yourself. Your feet tangle in your pants and you fell to the stone in a heap. You bent your legs and tried to cover yourself as he tucked his cock away.

“Well, brother,” Thor said as he nudged you with his toe. “You always did enjoy my leftovers.”

“Why?” Loki croaked and you hid your face in shame.

“Because,” Thor stepped around you to lord over his brother. “You will never have what is mine. Not the throne, not my people. Nothing.”

Thor snickered and Loki snarled. The older prince turned and stepped over you. He strode to the door and stopped. The air was still; suffocating.

“Take the wench to my chambers,” Thor ordered his guards. “And you may untie my brother when he has calmed.”

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