#i said this in my reblog but people still are getting confused so ill add it here too | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vemuabhi · 3 years

Note

Wait... somebody hold my pasta! Requets are opennnn! Bello, how are you?? I hope you are doing well!

I was wondering if I could ask for a Killer x Reader fic! I thought like, the reader is the new cook and Killer keeps hovering around like she's poisoning the food idk hahaha In reality, he just wants to be around, but doesn't know how to tell her.

Any special touches are so welcome! And please, take your time writing. I know you are swamped with requests and I'm not going anywhere haha Sorry for the gigantic ask!!

Thank you! Wishing you all the inspiration and love! 💙

Hello author san! Im happy to see you here in my box! This is my very first time writing for our favourite Pastaboy!! Im so excited to write for him. I hope its good and I hope you like it @holykillercake swan~~

MR. MASK

Pairing: Killer X Reader

Warning: none. Its Killer fluff!!

Word count: 2.3K

Likes/votes, comments, shares/reblogs are appreciated!

Summary : being the new cook of the Kidd pirates, comes with a very suspicious and also a curious mask dude.

"Yes. I know that and I added extra sugar for Kidd", you replied to the mask dude who was telling you, the official cook for the crew, how to make coffee for the captain.

"Just making sure", he said and started to make pasta.

"I could make it for you", you said.

"Its alright. I can do it myself. You can now go and serve the coffee to the gang", he replied without even looking at you.

'This jerk... why the hell is he like this?', you cursed under your breath and went to the rowdy gang. Mornings were the only time of the day, the assholes didn't drink.

"Heat! Wire! Wake up!!", you knocked the door and went inside. The roomies had a drowsy look on their faces. But ofcourse these two and Killer mostly stayed up guarding the ship.

Then you went to Kidds cabin and knocked once before entering.

"Captain, wake up", you said and carefully placed the hottest mug on the side of the night stand. He just grunted and turned. You knew, once Kidd woke up his drink would turn warm. So his was extra hot than others.

Once when a traitor was about to kill Kidd in his sleep, the first mate used the boiling hot coffee which was on the captains stand just in time. So... its not only a drink but also a weapon.

You quickly handed the rest of the crew, their mugs and went to the kitchen to brew the stew for the breakfast. Yes ofcourse it was wished by Kidd himself the day before.

You saw the first mate eating his pasta peacefully with his mask on. Before you were the cook, he cooked for the crew and this became his habbit to eat before the crew. He never removed his mask. Not once he revealed his face.

It would be a lie, if you said you weren't interested how he looked like and why he wore his mask always. But slowly you got used to him and his behaviour around you.

He always told you what to add and always asked what you were making. His special interest to the ingredients was weird. He looked at the ingredients and cut them for you everytime. As if you'd poison the food, if he wasn't around.

You were getting pissed by his actions day by day. You went to the stove and continued to stir the stew.

The breakfast was hectic with the rowdy crew and their massive appetite. You did feel someone staring at you once in a while. There would be 2 people if you felt like someone is staring at you. One being heat and other, the blond. Heat sat beside you, so you knew it wasnt him. And you made sure Heat could over come his shyness and ask you for food instead of staring.

You turned to look at Killer and yes, his mask was facing you. You shook your head and continued to eat the food.

And after a bit of training with Heat and Wire, you went to the kitchen to make lunch.

You got irritated when you saw the vegetables already cut. It was the work of Killer and you couldn't do anything but to sigh. You quickly started to mix the already cut veggies with the spices.

Making the Lunch was a bit peaceful. Because during this time, Killer and Kidd used to talk about some upcoming events and handled some paperwork. Sometimes they would build machines or new types of weapons.

The dinner was again a bit difficult. You could cut the vegetables this time but, he'd come to the kitchen and ask you what you were making. Sometimes he used to read books during this time. Sometimes it felt weird if... he wasn't in the kitchen.

Just like everyday after dinner, you now sat in the kitchen alone and looked at the new recipes, thinking what to make tomorrow. And like a routine, Heat came towards the Kitchen and stared at you for a few seconds before calling you.

"Hey.. Y/N", you immediately looked at him and knew what he was about to say. So you got up and went towards the fridge.

"Can I have any leftover dessert you made today", he asked as you closed the door with the dessert in your hands.

Walking towards him you placed the food before him and sat opposite to him.

He smiled happily and took a bite of the dessert and started to eat it with delight.

Yes you loved to see people enjoy the food you make. So you always made sure to save a portion for him.

You decided to ask Heat the question you had for months.

"Heat, can I ask you something"

He swallowed the dessert in his mouth and nodded.

"So... its actually about Killer", you said. Heat curiously leaned over to listen to you.

So, actually.. i feel like he is really suspicious of whatever I do and its really bothering me", you said before closing the cook book and sitting straight.

"How can he be so suspicious even after I am here for more than 4 months. I mean, if he has any problem with me, he needs to tell me right. What should I do? ", you ended with an ask and looked at him curious eyes.

He took another bite of the dessert and started to think carefully.

Finally he answered by saying, "I am pretty sure Killer is not doubting you. Maybe its better if you ask him"

"Why do you think its not the case?"

"Well, if it was... you wouldn't be alive. Its as simple as that."

'Damn that makes perfect sense. Why didn't I think like that', you mentally facepalmed yourself.

"Y/N, I believe there is something else. Why not just ask him", he suggested taking another bite.

"Yeah... thanks", you smiled at him and leaned back into your chair as you continued, "ill do that"

But ofcourse. It wasn't that easy to ask Killer. So a few days passed and one evening, the crew reached an island.

After docking, Kidd wanted to get drunk and fight other drunkards in the bar. Thinking it was a good chance to slip out of the place. The island was beautiful and the stars started to twinkle in the sky.

You walked aimlessly in the streets, which were a bit dark but still were beautiful. You didn't have to be scared. You are strong. One of the Kidd pirates. The one who always trains with the super soldiers heat and wire.

Then a park caught your attention. Walking in it you saw a slide.

'Ha... memories', you thought as you walked towards it.

The next thing you knew was you climbing up on the slide. You were ready to slide down it then you noticed the mask staring at you. You didn't know what to do. Your mind was blocked with the embarrassment. Still you slid down. Oh my... the 2 seconds slide was definitely awkward.

Both of you were so silent and just kept staring at eachother, with a blank expression.

You swore you could see his shoulders shaking. Was he... trying to hold back his laughter?

"What is so funny?", you asked with your cheeks flushed pink.

Damn he turned to another side to avoid looking at you, while he still tried to hold his laugh.

"I.. I just felt like... playing because its been a while", you tried to explain yourself while folding your arms. Then he slowly turned to look at you.

"I... didn't ask you anything", he said folding his arms.

"Tsk... why did you come here anyway?", you asked but you didn't receive any answer. You started to walk towards the swing now. He quietly followed you a few steps behind. Well you got caught so, there is no reason to hide or sacrifice the urge to play.

You sat on the swing and looked at him slowly coming towards you.

"Killer! Push the swing up high", you asked.. more like ordered.

He stood behind you in a blink of an eye and pushed the swing forward. It had been so long since you played like this.

The cool breeze felt so good. You chuckled as soon as he pushed you a bit higher. Oh how it felt like music to his ears.

After a while you asked him to stop it. You tripped as you felt a bit dizzy after swinging for so long. Ofcourse Killer was there to make sure you didn't fall down. You tapped his shoulder and made him to sit on the swing.

"Now It's your turn", you declared.

"Woah, you don't have to", he said but you didn't care and pushed the swing forward. If Killer didn't have his mask on, you could've looked at how he blushed at your actions.

Then you suddenly thought about what Heat told you. You decided it was the correct time to ask him as it was neither awkward nor anyone interrupted you two.

"So, Killer I wanted to ask you something for a while now", you saw that Killer definitely flinched when you said it.

"Wh..what is it?", he replied trying to keep him as calm as ever.

"Do you not trust me?"

"Huh?"

"I mean, you are always in the kitchen, asking me what I was doing, what I was adding, what ingredients I was using. It feels like you don't trust me", you pushed him again but he stopped to swing, by placing his legs on the ground.

"Oh no! I do trust you. I never thought you'd misunderstand my actions", he said facing you. You gave him a confused expression for which, he turned away and sighed.

"I was... trying to help you", he mumbled.

Your cheeks turned red at his answer. Then everything made sense. The way he always tried to make you know what the crew liked. How he cut veggies and other items for you. How he made his own pasta to lessen your work.

'God damn it! Now that I think, Ofcourse he was helping me', you started to curse yourself inside.

"So... you didn't knew it", his faced down looking at the ground beneath him.

"Im sorry. Killer please forgive me", you crouched before him and looked up at his mask. 'Aww how sad he seemed now.

"I'm sorry I didn't notice that you were helping me", you said taking his hand in yours.

"Its alright. It might've been my fault. I am this weird looking mask dude. No wonder you got scared"

"No no Killer. Its not because of your mask. Its not your fault. It was my fault. You are calm and collected. You always analyse things before hand. You solve fights between the crew members. You always did help me. You were always around me and made sure I didn't feel uncomfortable. You are an amazing cook and a great partner", you ended saying it.

Well with the last part you got carried away and got real close to his mask. As if you were kissing his mask.

Oh damn. You pulled back but... you were damn fricking sure, you saw shiney light blue eyes.

"Thanks Y/N", he said getting up and as you both still held hands, he pulled you up.

He placed his other hand on your waist to make sure you had balence before letting you go. He waved to you and started to walk towards the exit.

For some reason, you felt like, you'd really miss something if you just let him go now. As if... you'd not see him like always. Your legs worked their way and now you were running behind Killer.

"Killer stop!", you said and he tuned back to look at you. You couldn't stop your legs and almost tackled him down. But he was way too strong for you to tackle him down. So now, his arms were supporting you. Again!

You almost died with embarrassment but... you had to tell him.

"I didn't hate it", you said but he didn't reply. More like he didn't even know what to reply. Or... he didnt even understand what you meant.

"I didn't hate when you helped me. Infact I... liked it. Thanks for helping me then and also from now on too. So please do stay with me", you ended the sentence with looking down at the ground. It was quiet for a while.

'The fuck... why did it sound like a-'

"Is this a confession?", he asked

Your cheeks turned red at his question.

"Ah- I... But...", you struggled to come with an answer then you noticed his shoulders shaking again.

"Idiot! Dont laugh!", you shoved him back and started to walk away.

"Hey wait. No one dared to shove me and walk away", he said and followed you. You smirked at that and continued to walk with your head up.

He then continued, "Well.... except for Kidd, when he is on his period"

This shit made you to crack up and you laughed.

"Damn Kidd would kill you", you said as you placed your hand in his and you two continued to talk. You felt so warm in your heart when you held Killers hand.

Maybe something was about to start between you two.

Meanwhile in the bar of the island.

"*Achoo* I hope I didn't catch a cold", Kidd said as he snatched a drink from another person and started to make a ruckus in the bar.

XOXOXOXO

I hope you enjoyed reading this story. I hope I made justice to my very first Killer fic. I enjoyed writing so much for Killer. He is a comfort charecter of mine after Sanji. I tried so much to get a good plot for Killer.

Like/vote, comment, share/reblog to support me.

Follow for more!

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece fanfiction #op killer #massacre soldier killer #one piece killer #killer x reader #massacre soldier killer x reader #kid pirates #eustass kid #one piece heat #kid pirates x reader #killer one piece

199 notes · View notes

feitansluver · 3 years

Text

Two Birds on a Wire (THE PROLOGUE)

a Feitan x Reader series (gender neutral)

Genre: romance, angst, fluff, smidge of violence

Series Summary: If you wish to see the series summary, check out my masterlist (which should be up now, if not just give me 10 mins) which you can access through my pinned navigations post on my blog. It might have a teensy bit of spoilers but nothing too drastic since this is a major wip.

Prologue Summary: This story's beginning takes place before the troupe was even a figment of anyone's imagination. Meteor City is a dangerous place, and many can vouch for me when I say this. The place where good deeds never come truly from the heart, but instead for the chance to get what you wanted from someone else. Here begins the story of how Feitan Portor and Y/n L/n would soon meet, for real this time.

Author's Note: This entire series is inspired by the song "Two Birds" by Regina Spektor. I originally wrote this as a small x reader for a writing sample, but I like it so much, it'll be a series instead. This is going to be a slow burn series. As you can tell from my headcanons, I'm super detailed when it comes to adding backstories. It's even worse w actual stories. I'm not too sure how many chapters this will be but, Please enjoy! reblogs, likes, and constructive criticism is appreciated. Heads up, this will be the shortest 'chapter' of them all, so do be prepared haha. Italicized = Flashbacks!

The aroma of decaying matter engulfed the air like a thick fog, pulling down and wrapping itself around the shiny newcomers to the rather large wasteland of an area. These newcomers weren't wealthy, no, instead, they were here for the ego boost that accompanied the action of them tossing any worthless item that would instantly be scavenged by a poor resident, usually a child since they were small and naturally agile. Well, as agile as they could be growing up eating other's waste. Those bastards with their sickening laughs of arrogance. They'd be frowned upon in a normal society, but here, oh here, this was just what they'd call a Wednesday.

Where exactly is 'here,' you may be asking? To the people passing through, they might've considered it to be hell. Perhaps a dumpster. Hell, they might have even passed through with out even noticing the cries of agony as a mother's child passed away from malnutrition, without noticing the way that no resident seemed to acknowledge anything other than themselves, even the murder of a shopkeep in broad daylight. No, see they're too focused on trying to steal to survive, perhaps even slave away to a more fortunate resident for a chance at life, if you could even call this living. 'Maybe they're just introverted people,' oh how naïve you must be to even succumb to that conclusion. 'Here' there is no such thing as introversion, with this trait, you won't survive for more than 10 minutes.

'Here' is none other than Meteor City.

Coughing could be heard around every corner from the ill, penniless residents who were selling everything in their possession just to survive another miserable day. A feeble attempt truly, it's not as though the medicine was at least 50% likely to cause some sort of change. Nonetheless, Meteor City wasn't too bad, no. Children scurried amongst each other, shouting with smiles upon their somewhat sunken faces as they played along the areas of the city that were truly wastelands. There were no true friends created in Meteor City, but these children have yet to understand.

All except for one. A rather small boy, whether that be from malnutrition or genetics, with black hair and heartless black eyes sat upon an old shipping crate with an uninterested look upon his young face as he watched the children run about. "How pedestrian," was all that came out of his cracked, dehydrated lips. Only an 8-year-old from Meteor would consider playing to be pedestrian. Aside from his shocking attitude, with one glance you could certainly tell he wasn't from here, such 'exotic' features couldn't have been bred in this hellhole. The boy was dressed in what seemed to be traditional Asian clothes, ones that were too big for his figure, all black and seemingly thick yet still lightweight enough to where he wouldn't die from a heat stroke, the word "Feitan" engraved over his left breast. Perhaps this was his name, neither he or the townsfolk new, but it was what they called him when they believed he wasn't looking. He was frequently seen mumbling to himself, and paired with his stone cold gaze, he was deemed "unapproachable" to others, adults and children alike.

"Hey, you!" A call from one of the children pulled Feitan out of his thoughts. The blackette raised his gaze to find another small child before him, taller yes, but no doubt younger, no stranger to his eyes yet not an aly. "My name's Marley. Do you want to play with us?" Feitan rolled his eyes in annoyance and spoke with his broken interpretation of the city's language. "Why would me want t-," He analyzed the other children beside the runt Marley and froze his gaze upon another small child, who was smiling as they spoke to a friend, one he's kept his eye on for a long time.

(Y/n) (L/n).

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

2 years ago, Meteor City, 3rd Person Omniscient

The sky boomed a thunderous roar as lighting flashed across the city. Purples and dark ominous grey's colored over the townsfolk as the rushed their preparations for the storm. Adults were sheltering children, even if they didn't know them, most likely with the promise of something in return, while also taking in whatever possessions they needed before the storm's condition worsened.

A 4-year-old child, Y/n, ran about the poorly made streets, hoping to find a place of shelter before it was too late. Of course, since they're small and malnourished, they weren't very efficient, constantly stumbling over their two feet and pausing to catch their balance.

"Please, somebody help me!"

They continued to run through the now damp streets as the rain began to pour violently. Water drenched the poor child as they ran around banging on doors screaming for help, yet still, no one listened. It was almost as though the entire town had become a ghost city.Just as Y/n was about to give up, a hand grabbed their arm harshly and quickly pulled them into a small, dark, poorly-made shack.

Y/n jumped back in surprise with a yelp only to be pushed down by the other party, quite roughly might I add. "Shhh." A firm, seemingly male voice commanded with no other words as he sat beside the younger child. "Are you going to eat me??" Y/n spoke in a panicked tone. "The old lady by the library told me a story about a demon who comes out during horrible storms and eats the children who are wandering the streets." They cried with their arms curled around their legs, staring at the silhouette in fear beside of them.

The strange savior huffed under his breath. Why did he even pull this idiot into his home. Who was he to be providing shelter for others when he could barely take care of himself? God he never hated himself more until that moment. There was no place for some snotty kid, nor did he want to deal with them either. "Me no eat you. you taste bad, too whiny." Was all the boy said, hoping to get the other to take the hint and shut up.

"O-oh. My name's y/n, what's yours?" The 4-year-old spoke, no longer carrying a fearful tone. The older boy rolled his eyes at how naïve and trusting the other was. He didn't bother answering, and in fact, he never said another word to Y/n for the remaining duration of the storm.

Y/n ended up falling asleep after a while from all of the chaos earlier. The silhouette eyed the child beside him before closing his own eyes and leaning his head back against the wall. Soft snoring was all that was heard by the boy, aside from the pouring rain that is. Falling into his thoughts, he began to drift off into a light, alert slumber. Well, he was until he felt a weight hit his left shoulder.

His eyes shot open as he looked to his left with a scowl upon his face. "Idiot pest." He grumbled agitatedly as he noticed Y/n had fallen asleep on his shoulder. As much as he wanted to push them off, he quite enjoyed the quiet he was now receiving. With an annoyed sigh, he closed his own eyes and drifted to his previous light sleep.

When Y/n awoke with a yawn and began to identify their surroundings, they almost screamed in fear and confusion. They jumped up and racked their brain for some sort of explanation. Wait, it was coming to them now: the mystery boy and him providing them shelter. Properly looking at their surroundings, they noticed were still in the shack; however, this time, they were alone. With a quick glance outside, the small child ran out of the shack, patting themselves down to make sure they still had their items in their pockets.

A sigh of relief escaped their lips as they felt everything there. Digging into their pockets to find their last bit of money to buy a bit of food, Y/n noticed there was a folded piece of poorly maintained paper in their pockets. With a confused hum and a head tilt, they unfolded the piece of paper and read in poor grammar and messy writing:

"You owe me, Brat."

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

They blackette's face remained in a deapan expression as his own eyes locked back with Marley's "Yes, me play." He spoke emotionlessly as he hopped down from his crate, dusting himself off as he began walking closer to the group of children. A handful of yays, yippees, and downright cries of joy could be heard from the crowd of children as they gathered one more player for their game. "Okay, great. So here's what we're going to play.."

The voices blurred and faded into nothingness as the eight-year-old fell into his cunning mind, his eyes yet again landed on Y/n with his usual piercing gaze. Only difference was that this time, there was a twinge of excitement and malice, lots of malice.

God how he wanted to make them pay. A total troglodyte they were, so ignorant and easily distracted by such trivial things.

You see, Feitan never got back that favor, and he certainly wasn't one to hold back when it came to exploiting others. Especially younger, naïve children who hadn't seen nor understood just how horrific the world could be. How horrific he could make their world be.

Go ahead, call him a monster. It's such a common title for him, he might've even believed it were his own name if it hadn't been for the thread engraved onto his shirt.

Feeling eyes watching them, Y/n turned to face the newer strange boy with their head tilted in confusion. The blackette walked over to the younger child, the two of them standing at the same height. "Hello." Feitan spoke up with a small smile and a friendly wave. It certainly looked realistic and Y/n couldn't feel any malicious intent within the other boy, though if only they knew how fake that smile was. "Hey there! I'm Y/n, what's your name?" The child spoke with a close-eyed smile as they waved in return.

'Oh this was going to be fun.' The boy thought with an inward chuckle of sadism.

Feitan Portor wasn't one to forgive and forget. Hell, he came from Meteor City, the place where every good action was never from the heart but instead the manipulative portion of people's minds. No matter who or what he had to go through,

He was getting back what he owed, and he was expecting it NOW.

#Two Birds on a Wire: The Series #feitansluver #feitan x reader #slowburn #feitan portor x reader #feitan #feitan portor hxh'#feitan portor #hxh #phantom troupe #phantomtroupe #would you believe me if I said I plan on making this a romance series?

40 notes · View notes

aliendes · 4 years

Text

Natural Borns - Chapter Four

Banner made by @thebannershop

Series info/genre: Angst, fluff, (possible) smut NSFW due to darker themes

Pairings: ot7 x fem reader (eventual)

Warnings: mentions of sadness, indecent thoughts? maybe, if you squint. it gets a little steamy, I suppose, but mostly just fluffy sadness, if that’s a thing. This series will have different trigger warnings listed for each chapter (if there are any), but as a whole, this series will include violence, mentions of depression & other mental illnesses, cursing, abuse, drugs/alcohol, some shitty medical descriptions because i am NOT a doctor, self-esteem issues, fluff, and possible smut in future chapters (but that’s undecided). i will add more warnings/tags in the future if there are any.

Description: In the year 2613, over half of the world’s population are what scientists consider ‘designer babies’. YN is a small town girl who is a true natural born, someone born naturally without he help of a lab or gene splicing. Her DNA is greatly sought after, but what is she willing to do to protect it?

Word count: 8k~ (whoops so sorry. if you like longer chapters like this, let me know!)

A/N: *deep breath* ok here is chapter 4. things are starting to heat up, but i cut this chapter in two because it was like over 12k long.... i go back to work tomorrow, so updates may start slowing down, but i’m hoping to post updates every Sunday night. i was feeling a little bit bogged down last week, not seeing as much influx with chapter three than i have with the other chapters. if you enjoy reading, please reblog so others can see it, too. thank you, as always. xx - Des

Updated: 8/9/2020

But the second he took one look at you, standing outside, wet and bloody, saw the look in your big beautiful eyes as he so heartlessly demanded things from you, he knew he stood no chance.

Yoongi sat in his makeshift office on an old torn recliner they found in the warehouse. Surprisingly, the warehouse had been decently furnished when they found it. Granted, it was all old, worn furniture, but furniture nonetheless. The building was incredibly old, but it was also very large and had a lot of empty rooms on two levels. The entire place was made out of concrete, meaning it hasn’t seen much weathering over the years. It was a place they could call home for now.

Yoongi leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and stared at his beloved laptop in front of him. He wasn’t trying to think about you, no, in fact, he wanted nothing more than to erase the memory of you. Try all he might, his thoughts kept wandering back to the scared, small girl he saw earlier tonight. He let out a deep sigh and closed his eyes, letting his head loll back.

The blonde man was snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of footsteps outside his door. He picked his head up and spun around in his seat right as Hoseok came through the doorway.

“Hey,” Hoseok said, leaning against the doorframe, “I heard they found her.” His tone was indifferent, not happy, nor sad. Hoseok didn’t really have an opinion on you yet, voicing to Namjoon he didn’t really mind either way if they found you or not.

“Have you seen her yet?” Yoongi asked the red head knowing he hadn’t, as his demeanor would’ve changed the moment he did.

Hoseok shook his head, confirming Yoongi’s suspicions. “Good,” was all Yoongi said in response.

Hoseok gave him a puzzled look, cocking his head to the side. A bright grin started to take over his face as he took in the disgruntled look on Yoongi’s. “Are you letting her get under your skin that quickly, Yoongs?” He asked the older man in a teasing voice. “Is that why you’re hiding away while they fix her up?”

Yoongi’s blonde head snapped up at Hoseok’s words. “What do you mean ‘fix her up’?”

Hoseok’s smile started to slowly fade from his face, leaving a knowing smirk in its place. “She was pretty banged up from what Jungkook said. Poor boy was distraught when he came running into my room earlier.” Hoseok watched Yoongi’s face closely as his lips pursed into a thin line and he tried to act as if he didn’t care about you. Hoseok could see right through him.

Yoongi tried to keep his breathing steady and stared Hoseok right in the eye. “Who cares,” he shrugged as he turned back around in his chair and started typing away at his laptop.

“Who cares?” Hoseok asked rhetorically, “I think you do.” The red head walked over to Yoongi’s chair and put his hands on the back of it, pulling it down a bit so he could look into Yoongi’s eyes. He raised a questioning brow at the hacker, waiting for some kind of response.

“I don’t care about her,” he scoffed, “I don’t even know her.” Yoongi looked away from Hoseok as he spoke, knowing his closest friends would be able to see his lie. He didn’t want it to be a lie, what he was saying he wanted wholeheartedly to be true, but he knew it wasn’t. Why did he care about you? He really didn’t know you. But as Hoseok chuckled and walked away from the chair with a breathy ‘yeah right’, Yoongi’s thoughts just drifted to you.

“Please stay still,” Jin pleaded with you for the third time. You were currently laying on what you assumed was his bed while he took a look at all your wounds. He was looking at your bruised, and possibly fractured, according to him, ribs. It was painful and you weren’t sure how he expected you to stay completely still.

You had been laying here for the last twenty minutes, staring up at the ceiling, going over your conversation with Namjoon prior to letting Jin take a look at your wounds. You had learned that the five of them had been staying here for the last three weeks. They stumbled upon the place when exploring the surrounding forest. It was devoid of life, but a lot of furniture and supplies had been left from workers or from kids who threw parties here in the past. They made it into a base of sorts, where they could live and work. Work, you learned, was mostly Yoongi trying to hack into Big Hit’s, and other companies, systems, while Namjoon dealt with contacting people and said companies to get more information. Apparently, they had found out about you through Jimin, who had overheard some of the lab techs talking about a female natural born living on the outskirts of Seoul. You still weren’t certain what exactly made you all ‘special’, but Namjoon had said it had something to do with the markers in your DNA that made you desirable to these designer baby companies.

Namjoon had also told you that they were planning on going to Big Hit soon, in hopes of getting Jimin and Taehyung out. As they helped you limp to Jin’s room, he told you that he and Jungkook were going to help Yoongi and Hoseok with the planning tonight, and told you to get some rest.

When you first got to Jin’s room, you were pleasantly surprised by the cleanliness of it. For an old warehouse, they really tried to make it feel homey. Seokjin’s room was small and looked like it used to be some kind of office or file room. There was a small double mattress in the corner, which you were currently laying on, a small desk on the opposite side of the room, a small wooden end table, and a couple of backpacks and duffle bags laying about. While everything in the room looked old and worn down, it still smelled nice. It smelled like Jin, like pine and soap. Speaking of soap…

“Hey - how do you guys have lights and running water here?” You were curious, previous experiences made you think this place was totally abandoned.

Jin looked up from poking at your ribs, “Oh - Yoongi. He was able to get the electric and water companies to turn stuff on under a fake name,” he trailed off after noticing the apprehensive look on your face, “I know it’s not the most ethical way to go about things, but we don’t really have much of a choice right now.” The solemn look on his face told you that he regretted their actions, but truly had no other choice.

You nodded at his answer and jumped a bit when he went back to putting cream on your ribcage. “Please - stay still YN.”

“Sorry, sorry. It just hurts,” you groaned out and he finished his work. Jin let out a short sigh before pulling your shirt back down your torso. He picked up one of your hands and started to unravel the bandages to clean and rebandage it.

“I know, I’m sorry. I’ll try to be quick,” he gave you a quick smile and gently ran the back of his knuckles along your bicep. You tried to ignore the way his action made you feel, he was just trying to comfort you, right? He was a caring person, and he probably just felt bad seeing you in pain. That’s what you told yourself anyway.

You went back to staring at the ceiling, biting the inside of your cheek and Jin disinfected your cuts and scrapes. The feeling of his hands on you leaving you confused.

Once Seokjin had finished tending to your wounds, he gave you an old t-shirt and some sweatpants to change into before giving you a little privacy. After you had changed, you hobbled back over to the mattress and sat down. You stared around his room for a moment, finally letting the events of the day sink in.

You inhaled a deep breath as you thought back to everything that had happened. In just a few short hours, you had met these strange men who took you out to a forest and made you question your entire existence, witnessed your father make some kind of deal or exchange with a man who was likely trying to take you away, and ran away from your life, your family, and your friends. You didn’t even know who you could trust anymore, aside from probably Mina and Woo, but who knew when, or if, you would ever see them again. The thought alone made tears prick at the back of your eyes. You looked up to the ceiling to try and stop the hot tears from falling, to no avail. What were you getting yourself into?

As you felt a tear roll down your cheek, you heard a knock at the heavy door of Jin’s room. Quickly, you wiped the back of your hand at your face with a sniffle, before telling whoever was knocking to come in.

To your surprise, it was Jungkook who walked through the door, not Jin or Namjoon like you had expected. You blinked owlishly up at him for a moment as he shut the door and ventured into the room. He took a few steps in your direction, hands behind his back, and looked even more shy than you had seen him earlier.

“H-hey, noona?” He timidly asked, eyes locked on the floor.

Your eyes softened at his hesitancy. You made a sound of affirmation, urging him to continue speaking. Slowly he brought his hands from behind him back and extended them in your direction. He was holding a water bottle and a container of what looked like pain relievers. “Jin-hyung wanted me to tell you to take two of these,” he started, walking towards you with his hands outstretched like he was feeding a tiger, “and to drink the whole bottle.”

You gave Jungkook a small smile as you took his offering. He seemed so sweet in that moment, you couldn’t stop yourself, “Jungkook?” Your voice made the poor boy jump a little, but he relaxed as soon as he saw your smile. His big doe eyes somehow got slightly bigger as he nodded his head at you. “How old are you?” You asked him, head cocked to the side.

“Twenty two,” he said easily. He’s only a year younger than you, it was odd to you he was so timid, almost childlike at times. You hummed in approval. You truly did want to get to know these men, and Jungkook seemed like such a sweet guy. He was shy, but you could tell he had a kind soul. You wondered what had happened to him to make him so quiet. You hoped you would find out with time. You had a sort of affinity toward him. Maybe it was because he had literally carried you through a forest without so much as a complaint. You weren’t entirely sure.

The boy hesitated for a moment before turning around to walk out of the room. Just as he was about to reach the doorknob, he stopped and turned around to face you. “Noona?” His voice was so small, you almost asked him to repeat himself. Instead, you made a noncommittal noise, urging him to continue. “How old are you?” You wanted to coo at how cute Jungkook looked right now. Cheeks rosy, head slightly cocked to the side, eyes wide with mirth, almost like he was thankful for a reason to speak to you.

You gave the boy a bright smile before answering, “Twenty three.”

Jungkook stared at you for just a second longer, before nodding once and leaving the room.

“Who the fuck is Pearl?”

Hoseok shrugged his shoulders, not even looking up from the game he was playing on his phone.

“Are you even listening to me Hobi?” Yoongi was aggravated, to say the least. Namjoon, Seokjin, and Jungkook brought you to their base last night and he hadn’t gotten a lick of sleep. Namjoon brought him your phone, asking him to remove data from it so it couldn’t be tracked. He did so immediately, but the damn thing was burning a whole in the back of his head while he tried to sleep on the old, black leather couch in his room. Eventually, he got up from tossing and turning, and decided - against his better judgement - to look through the device. He knew it was wrong, knew it was a huge invasion of privacy, but he didn’t particularly care for you. Besides, he was curious, who could blame him?

The red head, currently sitting upside down on Yoongi’s couch, just huffed in response. Yoongi just rolled his eyes and spun around in the old, squeaky rolling chair. He had your phone open on his desk. It was early in the morning now, he figured you and the rest of the boys, aside from Hoseok, were probably still asleep. Hoseok tended to be an extremely early riser, yet still went to bed late at night. Yoongi never understood how he had so much energy with so little sleep.

Yoongi had already looked through your apps and photos. You didn’t have any social media that he could tell. Your apps were incredibly boring, just a few games and a notepad app that he found some of your notes on. Mostly things like grocery lists and dreams that you had. Nothing too interesting. Your photos weren’t very exciting either, mostly pictures of trees and fruit. You had some photos of your mom and dad and a couple of animals he assumed were yours. You seemed to live a pretty boring life, based on what was on your phone. The cynical side of him wanted to tell himself this meant you were a boring person, but he knew that was an unfair assumption.

The last thing Yoongi decided to snoop through, were your text messages. While he hadn’t found much there, aside from conversations with your mom, dad, and a group chat with someone named “Mina” and “Woo”, he did notice how everyone seemed to refer to you as ‘Pearl’. Aside from when your mother called you by your name yesterday, you were almost always referred to as Pearl. This piqued Yoongi’s interest, but he wasn’t sure why. Maybe this was evidence as to why the others shouldn’t trust you? It’s a simple nickname, but Yoongi was suspicious of you from the beginning. He didn’t want to admit it to himself, but he knew he was looking for reasons to hate you, to make the others hate you.

Yoongi nearly jumped straight out of his skin when the door to his room was swung open with such ferocity it slammed into the wall. Hoseok jumped straight up from the couch and Yoongi nearly fell out of his chair at the noise. “Jesus kid!” Yoongi yelled as he righted himself.

Jungkook had the graciousness to look ashamed as he entered the elder’s room. “Sorry hyung, I- I didn’t mean to,” he murmured without meeting the eyes of his older friends.

Hoseok sighed and relaxed a bit before pushing a hand through his bright locks and announcing he was going to ‘find something better to do’. Jungkook nodded at him as he left and took Hoseok’s previous spot on the couch. Yoongi surveyed Jungkook as he sat down. He looked tired, like really tired. He could see the small bags forming under the youngest’s eyes, a purple tint to his nearly perfect skin. Yoongi also noticed how skinny the kid was looking these days. He narrowed his eyes at the boy, “You doing ok, kid?”

Jungkook lowered his head into his hands and rested them on his knees, shaking his head back and forth slightly, “No hyung. I- I miss them,” Yoongi could hear the tears that were threatening to fall. He always did have a soft spot for Jungkook. He rose from his seat and sat down gingerly next to Kook on the couch, making the leather creaked beneath him, and slung his arm around the dark haired boy.

“I know, I miss them too. We all do,” he bagan, running a soothing hand up and down Jungkook’s upper arm, “we will get them back, Jungkook. I promise.” Jungkook lifted his head and looked at his hyung, eyes glazed over. He believed him, he really did, he just missed his best friends.

Jungkook nodded his head as he worried his bottom lip between his teeth. Yoongi thumbed at the younger’s lip sweetly, prompting him to release it. He knew Jungkook’s stress, he understood it. He missed the twins too, and he was working his hardest to get them back. Soon. He could feel it.

Last night had gone about as well as you thought it would. After Jungkook left you alone, Jin never returned to his room. You took the painkillers they offered you, but you thought for sure someone would be back to check on you, and you didn’t feel comfortable enough to wander around the place. You also felt a little bad for taking Jin’s bed when he had been so gracious to you. So after a while of waiting - and mentally hoping - for someone to walk in, you tried your hardest to fall asleep, to no avail. You tossed and turned in Jin’s small bed for what felt like hours, but you didn’t really know how long it had been. There was no clock in the room, you didn’t have your phone, and there were no windows. You guessed you finally fell asleep sometime in the early morning and had a very short, fitful rest before Jin was coming in to wake you.

“YN?” You heard Seokjin’s soft voice from the doorway. You blearily blinked away sleep as you tried to fully regain consciousness. As you rolled over in bed to face the door, you saw Jin standing there with a plate of something that smelled absolutely delicious. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were, but your stomach was beginning to rumble at the sight of food. You remembered the last time you ate anything was yesterday morning at breakfast.

Jin walked a little further into the room and sat down at the edge of the bed. He wanted to laugh at how entranced you were by the food in his hands, and at the erratic way your hair was sticking up. “Hungry?” He asked, arm outstretched towards you with the plate. You let out a small yawn and reached your arms above your head with a small pout. The large t-shirt you were wearing - Jin’s t-shirt - rode up slightly as you stretched and Jin thought you had to be the cutest thing he’s ever seen. As you finished your much needed stretch, you nodded your head with one eye open, taking the plate.

“Thank you, I’m so hungry,” you mumbled, voice still thick with sleep. Jin’s plump lips upturned into a bright smile as you started to eat a piece of toast from the plate. “You’re able to cook here?”

“There’s a small kitchen,” Jin nodded as he spoke, “it looks like it was an old staff lounge or something? We aren’t entirely sure what this building used to be, but it seemed like some people used to live here. There were beds, couches, even an old television when we got here.”

Now, feeling a little more awake, you nodded along with Jin, “Where do you get the food?”

Seokjin didn’t even miss a beat before answering, happy you were coming out of your shell a bit, “I go to the market at least once a week,” he smiled, “I take Jungkook with me sometimes…” he started to trail off a bit, looking away from your eyes, almost like he was embarrassed. “That’s actually how we found you.”

You stopped chewing, mid-bite of scrambled egg, “Found me?” You mumbled, mouth full.

Jin nodded, looking bashful, “Jimin told us he overheard people at the lab talking about a girl, a natural born living in this town. We honestly didn’t think we would find you here,” Seokijn rubbed the back of his neck as he continued, still avoiding your gaze, “We came out here and found this warehouse, it ended up being perfect for us to stay in,” as he continued his eyes finally met yours, he mentally noted how cute you looked, cheeks puffed out with food staring at him, “we needed food, so me and Jungkook went to the market. When I saw you, I knew.”

Your stomach was doing flips at Seokjin’s admission, and you weren’t entirely sure why. They were harmless words, maybe even a little reassuring. They weren’t stalking you, they happened to stumble upon you. So you weren’t sure why you were suddenly feeling so shy. His words almost sounded like a love confession you would hear in a blockbuster movie about soulmates. You could feel your cheeks heat slightly as you finally swallowed the eggs. “What do you mean, you knew? I don’t remember seeing you, or talking to you,” you prodded for some more information.

For a moment, Jin just stared into your eyes, and you thought he wasn’t going to answer you. Then, his plush lips parted as he quietly murmured, “Well, YN, you’re breathtakingly beautiful. I hope you know that,” he never broke eye contact as he uttered his next words, “and now that I’ve gotten to know you more, I can say you have a beautiful soul, too.” You were reeling. Were you the female lead of this made for TV movie your head conjured up?

You stared back at Seokjin with wide, glazed eyes, lips slightly parted in shock. No one has ever said anything like that to you, aside from Mina telling you how beautiful you were and how jealous she was of your skin. Jin was gazing at you as if you were the only person in the world, and you would be lying if you said it didn’t make you feel incredible. You were high on his attention, you loved the way your stomach was erupting with butterflies.

You were still seated on his bed, legs crossed and hands sitting in your lap, food forgotten next to you. Seokjin was still staring intently into your eyes, with an intensity you’ve never felt before. Slowly, ever so slowly, he lifted his hand and went to lightly brush his knuckles against your cheek bone. The action made you flush, eyes closing at the soft feeling of his hand. Just as you were leaning into his touch, a soft smile on his lips, the door to his room opened, causing both of you to jump backwards, eyes shooting towards the person intruding on such an intimate moment.

“Jin,” Namjoon looked slightly embarrassed, cheeks pink realizing what he walked into, “we need you in Yoongi’s room.” He bowed his head once at you both before turning on his heels and walking away.

Seokjin cleared his throat and you found it endearing how his neck and ears were turning a beet red. “S-sorry,” he sputtered out, “I - I’ll be back in a little bit?” He sounded unsure as he scrubbed a hand down his face. You gave him a small smile and nodded, a little sad at the loss of companionship you were just starting to get used to. You couldn’t quite place the emotion you were feeling, but you knew it was nothing like the platonic friendship you felt for Woo or Mina. Jin stood up from his bed, making his way towards, before giving you some parting words, “I’ll have Jungkook come show you where the showers are.”

After your encounter with Jin this morning, you were reeling from the onslaught of emotions you were feeling. You weren’t given much time to think too much about it though, because once you finished your breakfast, Jungkook came to give you a short, and rather quiet, tour of the building.

Like Seokjim promised, Jungkook showed you where the one bathroom was located, which looked more like a gym locker room than a bathroom. There were shower stalls, benches, and a couple of toilets and sinks along with a wall of lockers. It looked to be a changing room for employees of the mill. Jungkook had brought with him your black linen pants, washed by Jin according to him, and another large t-shirt. He didn’t want to admit it was his this time, and blushed fiercely as he handed them over to you, along with a clean towel.

Jungkook kindly showed you how to work the showers, helping you turn one on because of your hands. He also sweetly helped unwrap your hands and feet so you could properly shower and clean the cuts and scrapes. After he was done, he turned away, telling you he would wait on the benches for you to finish. As he was retreating, you reached out your hand to grab his forearm, “Wait - I- I can’t really lift my arms up,” you mumbled, warily looking up into his wide deer-in-headlights eyes, “can- can you help me?” You’ve never been shy about your body or nudity, but something about Jungkook seeing you nearly naked, made you feel like a shy teenager again.

You thought Jungkook was about to spontaneously combust the way he was staring at you. His shoulders were squared and nearly meeting his ears, lips pursed into a tight line, and eyes the size of dinner plates. You almost laughed at his expression, but then remembered how awkward this situation was for the both of you.

“I- I - ye- yes,” Jungkook was a stuttering mess, but wanted to offer you his help regardless. He felt like he was on fire with the way his cheeks and neck were heating. Slowly, you retracted your hand from his forearm when you felt like he wasn’t about to bolt out of the room. Jungkook carefully reached for the hem and your shirt and you turned around so your back was facing him to make this all less embarrassing. The boy audibly gulped as he slowly pulled your shirt upwards removing it from your head first, pushing it towards your front. He stepped closer to you so there was barely an inch of space between your now bare back and his front. Reaching his arms around you, he gripped the shirt and slid it down your arms, removing it from you completely. His fingers ever so slightly brushed the skin on your arms and made a shiver run up your spine. Jungkook didn’t miss the way you let out a strangled breath, almost inaudible.

He needed to cool off, quickly.

You quietly thanked him, quickly covering your breasts with your arms, as he turned away still holding Jin’s shirt and made his way out of the bathroom without another word.

After your much needed shower you struggled to dress yourself, but you would rather cut off your own arm than go through the embarrassment of finding Jungkook to help you again. Once you were finally decent, you found Jungkook sitting on the benches outside of the shower room, just like he said he would be. He has visibly calmed down, now wearing a calm expression. When he noticed you walk into the room, he gave you a small smile. “Feel better?”

You nodded enthusiastically, happy to feel clean again.

Next, Jungkook showed you the small kitchen that Jin spoke of earlier. It was more like a kitchenette, almost like an employee break room. It had a tiny refrigerator, cabinets that were filled with dry goods, a sink, and one electric burner. The building was so old, you were shocked to see the kitchen in such great condition. At the shocked look on your face, Jungkook told you that Jin really loved to cook and worked really hard to clean it up and keep it that way. Your face flushed at the reminder of the older man who was making your heart feel things just this morning. The thought of him caring so much about his kitchen, moving about in here cooking the delicious food you ate for breakfast, made your stomach twist in a pleasant way.

The last place Jungkook showed you was a mostly empty room on the second floor of the building. He told you that they didn’t use the second story much, considering the state of disrepair of the place, they didn’t want to risk getting hurt up here. But this room, Jungkook told you, was his favorite place to hang out. It was a rectangular concrete room that had a large expanse of windows on the far wall. Some of the windows were broken, allowing the breeze from outside to enter. In front of the windows sat a small tan sofa that looked like it had seen better days. Jungkook led you over to the windows, and you quickly realized why he liked this room so much.

You could see the entire quarry from up here. It was beautiful. At the bottom of the quarry was water that took on an incredible aquamarine color, turning almost green in the sunlight. The water was completely still, no disruptions on the surface, making it look serene. Along the bank of water, there were lush, green bushes and trees swaying slightly in the wind. On the other side of the quarry, you could see a small patch of yellow and purple flowering plants. Along the steep sides of the cliffs, you could see the smooth surface of exposed marble. Over the years, the marble has become weathered and looked smooth to the touch. The late morning sun, high in the sky, was reflecting off of the stone in a way that made it sparkle. It was an incredible sight, and you were surprised you’d never seen it like this before, having been out here in the past.

As you stood there, taking in the breathtaking scenery, Jungkook was taking in you. You had a look of mirth in your eyes, and he mentally patted himself on the back for bringing you up here. He took in your side profile, admiring your sharp features that looked as if they were carved from the very marble you were currently staring at. He loved the way your soft lips were forming a small pout, eyes focused on the sight in front of you. He didn’t realize he was grinning at you, until you turned around with a look of shock on your face.

A grin spread across your face as you saw Jungkook’s smile for the first time. It reminded you of a bunny, large front teeth on display for you to admire. You stood there for a moment, smiling at each other before you both started giggling. “Thank you for showing me this, Jungkook,” you crooned once the laughter had subsided. He just smiled at you in return before looking back out towards the quarry. You stayed in a comfortable silence after that, before Jungkook deemed it time to head back downstairs.

Downstairs, Jungkook led you to a room that was right in the middle of the long hallway that contained all the other rooms. “This is Yoongi-hyung’s room,” he cautioned, hand on the door, “don’t worry, Joon-hyung told him to be nice,” he rushed out, seeing the fearful look on your pretty features.

You were still uncertain, but nodded at Jungkook anyways, prompting him to open the door. Jungkook waited patiently for you to enter the room on your own with no pressure from him. You peeked around the corner to find the occupants of the room all staring right at you. You purse your lips into a tight line and avert your gaze to your newfound safe harbor, Seokjin, who was sitting on a black leather couch. His eyes softened at your uncomfortable look before scooting over to make room for you on the couch, patting the seat next to him, inviting you over. You hesitantly walked over and plopped down on the soft cushion.

Jin rubbed a large hand on your shoulder briefly to calm you down before placing both hands in his lap. As you felt yourself relax a bit, you took in your surroundings. Jungkook was still standing near the door, leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. He looked oddly stoic, shedding the shy persona he usually wore. The room was fairly large, or at least, larger than the rest of the rooms you’ve been in. Against the right wall was the black leather couch you and Jin were currently sat on, and to your right against the far wall were two arm chairs, one of which was occupied by Namjoon. Sat in a desk chair in front of what looked like an old corporate desk, was Yoongi, with multiple laptops and devices sprawled out in front of him. Leaning against the wall behind Yoongi was another man, one you didn’t recognize, but you assumed was Hoseok. He was staring intently at you. His expression was unreadable, not cold, but not welcoming either. He looked intense with bright red hair, a sharp jawline that looked like it could cut diamonds, dressed in all black. He was a little intimidating and not at all like the golden retriever type boy Namjoon had described to you last night.

As you took in the men around the room, you hadn’t noticed Yoongi and Namjoon discussing a possible plan to break the twins out of Big Hit. “Jimin said there might be a window of time where no one is around,” Yoongi scoffed, “but you remember what happened last time he said that.”

Namjoon nodded his head. Now you were listening intently to their conversation, as were the other men in the room. “We need to trust Jimin, Yoongs. He’s the one inside there, he sees what’s going on, we don’t,” Namjoon sighed, running his hands over his knees, apparently a self-soothing mechanism, “if you think you can get in and knock out the cameras, we might as well give it a shot. We will make sure we’re better prepared this time.” Namjoon seemed defeated. You weren’t sure what happened ‘last time’, but it didn’t sound good.

“It doesn’t matter how prepared we are, he was wrong about the window last time. By two hours. If he’s wrong again we could get caught, or killed,” Yoongi snapped, anger apparent in his eyes, “I’m not willing to risk you guys again.”

“What about her?” This time, it was the redhead who spoke. You hadn’t noticed his eyes on you throughout the entire conversation, assessing you.

“No!” Both Jin and Jungkook barked at the same time, making you jump in your seat. Jin set a soothing hand on your shoulder as you looked at him, and then at Hoseok with wide eyes. Jin shook his head aggressively before looking at Yoongi and Hoseok, “No way. She’s never been there, she would have no idea what to do. You’re not willing to risk one of us, but willing to risk her?” He snarled, you haven’t seen him angry before, and you were positive you didn’t want to be on the receiving end of his anger.

Over by the door, Jungkook had uncrossed his arms and was walking towards Yoongi’s desk. “You can’t send her in there, hyung,” he started, placing both hands palm down on the desk, “please.”

Yoongi looked up at the maknae with soft eyes before pursing his lips and sighing through his nose. Behind him, Hoseok raised his hands in surrender, “It was just a suggestion,” he sighed out passively, “we’ve all lived there at some point or another, they would recognize us immediately, just like last time.”

“They know her too. Hyunwoo has been scouting her for months, according to Jimin. We can’t let her go in there.” It was Namjoon who was being the voice of reason this time, causing both Jin and Jungkook to let out a collective sigh of relief. The five men continued to argue while you got lost in your thoughts. Hoseok wanted you to navigate Big Hit? Alone? You mulled it over in your head for a minute, remembering Yoongi’s words. If he was able to hack the cameras, they wouldn’t be able to see you, right? You felt so grateful towards Jin and Namjoon, and even Jungkook, for helping you, you wanted to contribute in some way. You wanted to help them, ease their pain at the loss of their friends.

With this thought in mind, you spoke up, “I could do it…” you trailed off, voice quiet. All five of the men’s heads snapped towards you, most with looks of disbelief on their faces. Even Hoseok hadn’t expected you to agree, he was testing you, to see how you would react. Yoongi looked at you curiously, waiting for your next words. He couldn’t deny the clench in his heart at Seokjin’s words. No, he wasn’t willing to risk you, but if you were offering... “I mean.. I want to help,” you hesitated, looking between Jin and Jungkook who were now looking angrily at you. You shrunk in on yourself a bit, awaiting their response.

“Then it’s settled,” Yoongi remarked. He was trying hard to contain the fear he felt at allowing you to enter Big Hit alone. He knew it was dangerous, and he really wanted to not care about your well-being, but try as he might, he was terrified of allowing you to do this. He assumed he hid it well though, because everyone bar Hoseok was looking at him with incredulousness.

“No way,” Seokjin spoke first, his tone leaving nothing up for discussion, “this conversation is over.” Jin stood up abruptly, looking directly at Namjoon, “You aren’t ok with this, are you?” The look in his eye was intense, and Namjoon could feel it. He could feel the emotions Jin felt towards you, that he was going to do whatever it took to protect you. Namjoon would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t feel the same way.

Namjoon let out a short sigh and closed his eyes before setting his gaze on Yoongi, “We can figure this out without involving YN.”

“You heard her,” Yoongi growled, “she’s willing to risk her life. Who am I to tell her no?”

From there, the argument got even more heated, Jungkook even getting involved at one point. You were starting to feel uncomfortably hot in this cramped space. You understood both sides. You wanted to help, but you also knew that whatever you were volunteering yourself to do was dangerous. You needed air.

Suddenly, you stood up from the sofa announcing to the others that you ‘needed space’ and bolted out the door. Jungkook turned to run after you, but Hoseok, who was now standing next to the youngest, put his hand on his shoulder to stop him. “Let me go Hobi-hyung, I need to make sure YN is ok,” Jungkook rushed out, turning to the elder.

“Let her go, Kookie. This is probably a lot for her,” Hoseok told the boy, who looked like his heart was breaking at his words, “She’ll be ok, give her time.”

In your haste to remove yourself from the situation, you missed the look of absolute devastation on Jin’s face. He didn’t want you to feel like you had to do anything to repay them. He didn’t want you to feel like you owed them. He couldn’t believe how strongly he felt for you after only one day, longing for your presence next to him, now that it was suddenly gone. He could see that Jungkook - and to some extent, Namjoon - felt similarly.

Namjoon’s heavy sigh could be heard by everyone in the room, even over the loud chatter between the boys, as he slowly rose from his seat. As he made his way over to the door, he looked over his shoulder at the hacker. “Fix this.” His words held a finality that made Yoongi gulp. The blonde had a stoic outer shell that was hard to crack, but no one in this building could deny Namjoon was the one in charge, the one they wouldn’t defy. Yoongi nodded, biting the inside his cheek to hold back his retorts as Namjoon left the room.

After you burst out of Yoongi’s room earlier, you ran towards the big metal door that led outside the warehouse. You didn’t really want to go home, you were way too scared of what might be waiting for you there, but you did need some fresh air and some time to process everything that has happened to you since yesterday.

You made your way down the long winding path that led back to the fork in the path at the edge of the forest. You were thankful Jungkook had found you a pair of slippers earlier and you were no longer barefoot. You passed the broken fence blocking the dirt road down to the quarry and carefully hiked down until you were at the embankment and sat on the edge of the water. It really was beautiful and now that you were up close, you could see how clear the water was. It looked like liquid gemstones, barely rippling in the slight breeze. The marble looked so pretty up close, nearly snow white with swirls and lines of grey. It was calming out here. You took a few deep breaths, inhaling the scent of the water and the trees.

You have never done well with crowds of people. Not that five men were a crowd by any means, but you weren’t used to being around more than a couple of people at a time. Growing up, you had severe anxiety, especially while at school, and it carried over to adulthood. You also haven’t had many chances to socialize as an adult, outside of Mina and Woo. Being thrown into a situation with five men, two of whom you don’t think even want you around, is a lot. It’s only been twenty four hours and you’re already starting to regret leaving your home. You thought about your mom, and the huge breakfasts and dinners she would make for you and your father. Your father, who you didn’t know if you could even trust anymore. You’ve lived your whole life putting all your trust in your parents, as one should. But now you were questioning everything. Were they aware of your genetic rarity? Did they know about Big Hit all along? You had so many unanswered questions that you would probably never have answers to unless you went home.

Your mind wandered to Mina and Woo. How you weren’t sure if you would ever get to see them again. You were worried about them, worried that they would look for you and find themselves in some kind of trouble. They were your only friends growing up, and you didn’t even get to properly say goodbye to them. You didn’t realize you were crying until you felt something wet and warm drop into your lap. You were wearing the pants that you got dressed in yesterday morning before what could’ve been your last breakfast with your family. At that thought, the dam within you broke and the tears started flowing.

While staring at your damaged hands, you were reminded of Seokjin, and his caring nature. The tall, broad shouldered man who has shown you nothing but kindness. He was so gentle with you, like no one ever has been before. He made your heart flutter and your mind blank when he spoke to you. You thought back to how angry he had been with his own friends, over you, a girl he just met. He was defending you, and it made you feel like you were tearing a family apart. You didn’t want to bring him, or anyone else for that matter, any pain or harm. But then you thought back to how nice his large hand had felt against the delicate skin of your face this morning, and how his words had made you blush with fondness. You’ve never loved someone outside of your family, never even had a crush before. You weren’t sure how to define what you felt for Seokjin, but it felt good.

Then you thought about Namjoon, the well spoken and intelligent man who was the reason you were brought in with welcoming arms. From what you’ve gathered, he was the one who pushed to find you, to make sure they did something to stop Big Hit from getting to you. You were thankful for him, and you didn’t want to put him in a position where he had to choose you or his brothers. He cared for them deeply, you could see that clearly.

Jungkook was mysterious to you. He seemed so shy and timid, yet he was so angry with Yoongi earlier in defense of you. He had shown you one of the most beautiful places you’ve ever witnessed before, and given you one of the most precious smiles you’ve ever seen. You wanted to learn more about him, get to know him, be his friend. You felt drawn to the boy and wanted to protect him. It was odd, you’ve never felt an instinct to take care of someone else before, aside from maybe your cat. You wondered if that was how Seokjin felt towards the rest of them, the thought causing your heart to clench, emphatic towards him.

The red haired man, Hoseok, was the one you knew the least about. It felt like he didn’t really like you, but he was so hard to read. You remembered what Namjoon said about him being excitable and friendly, but you had yet to experience it yourself. As much as you felt unwelcomed by him and Yoongi, you still felt inclined to get to know him better, a pull to him, much like the others. You couldn’t explain these feelings, and they were confusing you.

The last man of the group, the blonde. Yoongi. He definitely didn’t want you here, and definitely made you feel unwelcome. But could you blame him? You weren’t mad at him. No. You understood completely how he felt. You were a stranger, disposable, and you weren’t his friend. He had no reason to care about you. None of them did. You mentally berated yourself for allowing your mind to conjure up the idea that they owe you anything, that you deserved their care and affection.

As you sat and cried silently to yourself, you let the dark thoughts take over your mind. Were you some kind of charity case to Namjoon? Like he felt the need to save someone who was like him and that’s all you meant to them? Maybe they felt sorry for you, and that’s why they were treating you so kindly. Seokjin acted caring towards everyone, why were you anything special? You were acting crazy, it’s only been a day with these men and you’re already feeling such a strong pull to them. You need to get a hold of yourself. You continued to sit there, on the edge of the water, shoulders hunched as you cried silently. As the day went on, and the sun started to set beyond the hills, your mind was plagued with the thoughts that this was all a horrible, horrible idea.

To be continued….

A/N: if you made it this far, first of all, THANK YOU! If you want to be added to the taglist, make sure you’re following me and send me an ask. if you enjoy the series consider reblogging so it can reach more readers. i’m feeling a little down about writing right now, so i’m trying to make sure to update next sunday. we will be meeting the twins in the next couple chapters, depending on how long they get, and you will be getting some steamy scenes between YN and (a) boy shortly. much love

xx Des

taglist: @minifruity @mrcleanheichou @arantxaglz @chim-possible

173 notes · View notes

quicksilversquared · 3 years

Text

The Wavering Peahen: Chapter 7

When Nathalie started feeling oddly ill again, both she and Gabriel were worried that the Peacock Miraculous might somehow (impossibly) be to blame again.

So naturally, they pick someone else to be the Peacock for a bit. You know, as a test subject. Except the new Peacock… doesn’t exactly know that.

links in the reblog

Marinette was really glad that the picnic broke up as soon as the ambulance vanished around the corner, because she couldn't get home fast enough.

Was the pin real? It had to be, since otherwise Tikki wouldn't have sensed it. But why on earth would Hawkmoth think that giving Lila a Miraculous would be a good idea?

And how did Lila's strange illness fit into it all?

"I suppose she could just be sick and that part could have nothing to do with Hawkmoth at all," Marinette told Tikki as she dug the Miracle Box out from under her bed. She had to talk to Wayzz right now and see if he could shed any insight on the absolutely astronomical levels of crazy that the past half-hour had been. "But she's been sick for most of the time that Pavona was out and about. Why would Hawkmoth let someone who was sick fight alongside him? If I were him, I would want someone healthy out with me. Whenever I'm sick, I don't do as good of a job fighting. Sneezing and coughing just throws me off and leaves me open to attacks. I mean, maybe he doesn't have any other choice, depending on what happened to Mayura, but still."

"Normally I would say that it's probably just a coincidence, but the Peacock's energy seems off again." Tikki was frowning. "I would have thought that Hawkmoth would have fixed the Miraculous once he got his hands on Master Fu's translations, and it certainly seemed like that was the case when Mayura started coming out to battles all the time. I might be wrong, since I'm not the expert, but my guess is that Lila got sick because of the Miraculous."

"I'd just ask- what was it, Duusu? But honestly, if his energy is off, I don't want to charge in headfirst. If I get sick like Lila, then I won't be able to fight as Ladybug." Marinette glanced over the box, then tapped the section for the Turtle. "So I want to talk to Wayzz first. He was the one who was always with Master Fu, so maybe they talked about whatever was going on with the Peacock." There was also the issue of whether it would even be safe to pull Duusu out when she wasn't transformed. If he felt any loyalty to his previous holders- which he might, after being with them for what was really a decent amount of time- then she might be running the risk of him seeing her identity and then escaping and bringing it back to Hawkmoth.

She wanted to believe that that wouldn't happen. That Duusu would be excited about being saved. But she had heard stories about kwamis getting attached to terrible holders before, when their viewpoint got warped around so that they thought their villainous holder was in the right, and as one-half of Paris's superhero team she just couldn't take any chances.

"Hopefully Wayzz and Master Fu discussed the Peacock," Tikki said as Marinette pulled the Turtle out. "If they didn't, we're going to be going in blind."

"Not completely blind. Wayzz is sensitive to what's going on with the other Miraculous and the auras around them. It should help." A green light flashed across the room, and Marinette grinned as Wayzz showed up. "Hey, buddy!"

"Marinette! I sensed a disturbance- a change in the aura around the Peacock- wait! It's close- very close- it's inactive!" Wayzz spun around in a wild circle, then made a beeline to the pile of fabric that was Lila's scarf, digging through it until the Peacock pin was exposed. "You have it! It's here! It's broken, but it's here! Duusu has been saved!"

"So it is broken again," Marinette confirmed. "How would it have gotten like that again? Are the Miraculous really so easy to damage?"

Wayzz shook his head, one paw stroking the Peacock pin as he talked. "Not at all! It's just that when it was fixed last time, it was not fixed correctly. Master Fu saw to that. When he was writing down the translation for that particular spell, he deliberately wrote down one step incorrectly. The spell would appear to fix the Miraculous, and then gradually wear off as time goes by. He did that just in case he lost the translation or it was stolen from him, since he knew that it would make things very difficult for you if the Peacock was fixed for good." Wayzz sighed. "I believe that he thought that the 'repair' would wear off a whole lot sooner, but those sorts of things are hard to control. I suppose it did end up doing what it was meant to, though."

"Eventually, yeah." Marinette grinned, then sobered a little. "Though I honestly would have preferred that it take out Mayura instead of Pavona. Then we would have at least gotten an insight to who Hawkmoth might be. With Lila, though, I just know that the only reason she's connected is because she doesn't like Ladybug."

There was a chance, of course- probably (hopefully) a really good chance- that Duusu would be willing to help and give them clues towards Hawkmoth's (and Mayura's) identity, but clues could only go so far. There were millions of people in Paris and the chance that she and Chat Noir would actually put together the supervillains' identities with only a few clues was pretty low. They could call up the police to help, of course, but even the police didn't know everyone in the city.

"I wonder how much manipulation went into getting Lila to go along with Hawkmoth," Wayzz commented. He raised an eyebrow at Marinette's dubious look. "...if any?"

Marinette shook her head. "I doubt that there was any manipulation. He probably offered up the Miraculous and she took it right away. And I'm definitely not going to let Lila get away with that. She's old enough to know that she shouldn't be working with a supervillain."

"I think even a little kid knows not to work with a supervillain!" Tikki agreed emphatically. "Remember that little kid that got akumatized a month after the attacks started and was super upset about it? He couldn't have been more than six or seven, but he knew that working with a supervillain was a bad thing and wouldn't calm down until you convinced him that being akumatized didn't count as working with Hawkmoth."

Marinette nodded. That had been pretty heartbreaking, actually, and she and Chat Noir had ended up running a whole publicity campaign affirming that akumas weren't responsible for their actions and that they were victims, not villains. No one chose to be akumatized, they had said- which wasn't strictly true, presumably Mayura had allowed herself to get akumatized to create Scarlet Moth and Marinette wouldn't be surprised if Lila had willingly and eagerly accepted a corrupted butterfly (or five) as well- and people shouldn't beat themselves up over it. People should try to avoid getting akumatized or causing akumatizations, of course, but they weren't the villains. Hawkmoth (and Mayura and Pavona, of course, but they hadn't been around at that time) was.

Of course, that was entirely beside the point at the moment. Lila hadn't been akumatized this time around, she had accepted a Miraculous from a supervillain willingly. That was different.

"I can probably say that a classmate of Lila's found the pin on her and alerted me at once," Marinette decided after a moment's pause. "So that's how we found it, and that's how we establish the first connection. Then we add on that the Miraculous has been broken and her symptoms are consistent with the use of a broken Miraculous, so we're positive that it wasn't planted. Or wait, no- I shouldn't mention planting at all, that would be dumb of me. I can just say that that's, uh..."

"Extra confirmation that she was indeed the one holding the Peacock most recently," Wayzz suggested. "Or that that makes it undeniable that she was Pavona, that way you're not suggesting that there was any uncertainty about Pavona's identity once the Peacock came to light."

Marinette jabbed her finger at him. "Yes! I like that. Hang on, I'll write that down. Now, next question- how soon should Chat Noir and I tell Paris about Lila? Right away, or do you think we might be able to catch Hawkmoth off guard if we don't publicize that Lila's identity was discovered?"

Tikki perked up. "Ooh, the second one! I would talk to the police and the hospital right away, though," she added. "To make sure that no news stories run about Lila's collapse. Maybe it's not likely, I don't know, but just in case."

"They probably wouldn't release names for several days anyway, but that's a good idea. The police will understand why we don't want to risk tipping Hawkmoth off, in case he doesn't already know somehow." Marinette pulled out her phone, opening the secure messaging app that she and Chat Noir used and shooting her partner a message. She wanted to let him know what was going on as soon as possible. If they could both be there when Duusu came out, that would be great. As she sent it, another thought hit her. "Wayzz, will it be dangerous for us to pull Duusu out considering that his Miraculous is broken? Will it affect us like it affected Lila?"

Wayzz shook his head. "It shouldn't. Lila got to the stage that she's now at by repetitive use of the Miraculous. Heavy repetitive use, and recent, from what I'm sensing around Duusu's aura. Which is odd, considering that Hawkmoth hasn't been active today...or this week at all."

Marinette gasped, stabbing one finger into the air as a revelation hit her. "That's how Lila got the photos! Today she had pictures of herself with all sorts of famous people, including Ladybug," she added to Wayzz when he looked confused. "To make her stories seem more true. I figured that she had just been using Photoshop, but I bet all of those celebrities were actually sentimonsters plus a poster behind her."

"Somehow, I am not surprised." Wayzz let out a long sigh. "Fitting that that would be her downfall, really. She must have used the Peacock's powers a number of times in a very short timeframe to become as ill as she did at the end. You will simply be pulling Duusu out and not transforming or using his powers, which means that the broken magic from the Miraculous won't affect you at all."

"Good." Marinette let out a long breath- that was a load off of her shoulders- and then checked her phone as it buzzed. "Chat Noir is available now. I'm telling him to go to Master Fu's old parlor- Hawkmoth never found that, so it should be private and safe enough. We can pull Duusu out there, so both of us can talk to him at once." She slipped the Turtle bracelet onto her wrist. "Is there anything I should be bringing along other than the Miraculous, Wayzz?"

"Some fruit, if you have some to spare!" Wayzz told her. "Duusu loves fruit, and I'm sure that the lying girl didn't give him enough. She seems the sort to only give the bare minimum and then snap when asked for anything more, which- ironically- would have just sped up the rate at which she was affected by the Miraculous being broken. You don't have to take a ton, but a snack would be nice."

Marinette nodded, already headed for her trapdoor. "That's easy enough. We always have fruit sitting out for snacks. No one is going to think anything of it if an apple and a couple of bananas go missing, that's what they're there for."

It took almost no time at all to grab the fruit, gather up the pin (and the scarf) and then hightail her way over to Master Fu's old shop. Going in felt a little odd- she had to slip in a back window as Ladybug instead of going in the front door as Marinette, and the shop had a distinctly abandoned feel to it instead of feeling like a home- but it was the best place they had to work out of. Chat Noir was already there, waiting anxiously in what used to be the living room.

"What's going on?" Chat Noir wanted to know as soon as she came in. "You said it was urgent? There's not some sort of invisible akuma or something, is there?"

"No, no akuma," Ladybug told him, pulling a pillow and a box that sometimes served as a sort of table over next to him. "There was an, ah, incident at one of the local parks not very long ago. Lila Rossi- you know, the liar girl- she passed out and fainted. And when Marinette was checking her over, she found...this." Ladybug reached out, depositing the Peacock on their box-table. Chat Noir's eyes went wide. "And Tikki and Wayzz have confirmed that it's the real thing."

"No way! That's- but how was Lila- I mean, I guess it makes sense considering how Pavona acted, she always seemed to think that she was more of a threat than she actually was. But- wow." Chat Noir let out a long breath, still staring at the Peacock. "How lucky is it that she just happened to be sick and passed out right then? Now Hawkmoth is down an ally, and maybe we'll get some sort of lead."

"It's not entirely luck, really." Ladybug tapped the Miraculous. "You remember how we thought that it was broken before, right? And that Hawkmoth fixed it? Wayzz said that Master Fu didn't write down the correct translation of the spell. He altered one step so that it would look fixed and feel fixed for a short while and then wear off. So the Miraculous has been making Lila sick, and then she used it a bunch- that's what we're assuming, at least- to fake some photos with famous people, and that was enough to push her over the edge into- well, she hadn't woken up yet from what I heard, so who knows? Maybe she's in a coma."

"Oof, that's- well, honestly, that's well-deserved." Chat Noir let out another breath. "It's a good thing that we found that out with the supervillains, at least. Imagine if we had gotten the Peacock back somehow and tried to fix it ourselves! That could have been really dangerous."

"I wouldn't have done anything to it without consulting all of the kwamis first," Ladybug told him. "And then I would have made sure to have Wayzz keep an eye on it, since he's best with the auras. I wouldn't feel confident enough to fix a Miraculous myself without supervision to actually use it afterwards without triple- and quadruple-checking to make sure that things actually went the way they were meant to. And- and Master Fu would have known that."

Chat Noir nodded. "That makes me feel better. I'd be pretty lost if you got sick and then vanished off of the face of the earth."

"I'd stop way before getting to the coma stage, believe me. One cough, and that Miraculous would be retired to a corner until I could contact the Order." Ladybug took a deep breath, her eyes returning to the Miraculous. "I haven't talked to Duusu yet. I didn't think it would be safe to at home, and it made more sense than interviewing him by myself and then trying to remember everything to pass it along to you. Besides, if Duusu gives us a lead to who Hawkmoth is, we should both be here."

"Ooh, fingers crossed that we get a good lead." Chat Noir settled down, shifting anxiously on his heels. "Ready to talk to him now?"

Yeah." Ladybug gave herself a shake, then straightened and turned her attention fully to the Miraculous, focusing on pulling Duusu out without actually touching the Miraculous. It took a minute, but then the Miraculous lit up with blue light. It glowed for a long moment, and then a blue bubble popped free. It glowed brighter and brighter, and then burst. Duusu yawned widely, then blinked blearily over at them. After a moment, his eyes widened and he shot up in the air.

"Oh, thank goodness!" Duusu exclaimed. "I've been saved! You would not believe the terrible people that I've had to put up with, it was awful!"

As it turned out, Duusu was an absolute gold mine of information. Maybe he couldn't say the names of his former captors, but he could certainly talk and talk (and talk some more) on about them until there was absolutely no doubt in Ladybug and Chat Noir's minds about who Hawkmoth and Mayura were.

And then Duusu kept talking, on and on and on. He complained about Lila ("Such a little brat, and so full of herself!") and about Mayura ("I don't know why she's going after a married man, he's hardly a looker or kind or a good dad or anything, no redeeming qualities at all!") and about another, previous holder, who apparently had been kind, if perhaps a little manipulative sometimes, and who was currently in some sort of cursed coma related to her use of the Miraculous in Hawkmoth's sub-basement lair.

Ladybug had to roll her eyes at sub-basement lair. What kind of unnecessarily dramatic (and rich) villain needed two lairs in the same building? It was absolutely excessive and ridiculous.

"Okay, so Hawkmoth is Gabriel Agreste, Mayura is Nathalie Sancoeur, and Emilie Agreste isn't missing, but a former Peacock and is hidden under the house," Chat Noir summed up once Duusu finally stopped talking for a minute in favor of inhaling some of the fruit that Ladybug had brought along. Her partner looked more than a little shaken, his face so pale behind the mask that Ladybug was starting to wonder if she would have to call for another ambulance. "Uh, is there any way to- to get her out of the coma? To heal her, I mean?"

"Once my Miraculous is properly fixed, the energy that I sapped from my users should slowly return," Duusu told them. "Well, as long as the they have my Miraculous on them. It won't work without that contact. They might need a little medical attention and maybe a boost from a potion or two to get the process really going, but unless the damage runs deeper than I can sense, it should be a pretty straightforward process to fix everything!"

Ladybug nodded, part of her mind already combing through the potions and spells that she and Chat Noir had gone through together. There were a couple that might be of some use, though she would want to do a bit more digging through things and consulting with the kwamis before she gave anyone any potions.

There was also, of course, the question of how they were meant to heal Lila- and possibly Nathalie as well, depending on how she was doing- without running the risk of them taking the Miraculous and running with it. Handcuffs and 24-7 supervision could only go so far when magic was involved.

The other part of her mind was- well, it was mulling over the discovery of the supervillains' identities. After all, that was what she and Chat Noir had wanted to learn for months now.

She wasn't as surprised as she thought she would be, really.

Part of it was the fact that she had suspected Mr. Agreste before. He had had the Miracle Book and had a butterfly as his brand's logo. He had a motive with his missing wife. He had the money and job security needed to vanish for hours on end to somewhere secluded and safe to unleash his akumas on the world. And, to top it off, he wasn't a very nice person. It was pretty easy to imagine that he would think that the rules didn't apply to him and that causing other people suffering and fear and distress was just a minor inconvenience that could easily be ignored.

And then the other part... well, both she and Adrien had commented on how odd it was that Lila, Nathalie, and Mrs. Agreste had all come down with the same symptoms at separate times. Once Lila collapsed and Marinette found out that she had been Pavona and the Peacock Miraculous had been what had caused the odd illness, that oddness had been nagging her from the back of her mind, begging to be noticed.

Marinette hadn't paid it as much attention as she might have otherwise because there had been a lot going on that had also needed her attention, but if she had had a couple minutes to give it a proper think over, she probably would have come to the same conclusion that she had now. With that one piece of the puzzle it would have all snapped into place anyway, even without Duusu's helpful comments. He had just sped the process along and ensured that they were absolutely 100% positive about the supervillains' identities.

"I guess the most pressing question now- well, other than how to fix the Miraculous- is how to deal with defeating Hawkmoth and then approaching all of the stuff with Lila," Chat Noir said hesitantly after a few moments had passed. "Mr. Agreste is out of town at the moment, I've heard, though he's coming back- er, tomorrow, potentially? At least that's what I've heard."

Ladybug blinked at that, puzzled, before giving herself a shake to refocus. How and why Chat Noir knew Mr. Agreste's schedule off of the top of his head was anyone's guess, but it also wasn't immediately important. If she remembered, maybe she could ask him about it later. "I got to talk to Tikki and Wayzz about that before coming here, actually. We thought it would be a good idea to go to the police and catch them up on what is going on, and then they could restrict what information gets released so that we don't tip Hawkmoth off about Lila collapsing and us getting the Peacock back ahead of time."

"And should we tell them about who Hawkmoth and Mayura are, or just Lila's identity?"

Ladybug let out a long breath. Honestly, she wanted to talk to Tikki about that to really feel good about her decision. After all, she was just a teenager with experience fighting akumas and pretty much all she had talked about with Master Fu was in regard to their battles, not what she should do once they had figured out who Hawkmoth was. "I mean...maybe? I don't- I don't know if I want to risk them trying to take over now, but I'm coming up a bit blank on ideas."

"Right." Chat Noir leaned back on his pillow, clearly deep in thought. "Well, if we want to surprise Hawkmoth- Mr. Agreste- then we want to get him before he has the chance to find out about Lila. So I think we should find out when he's going to be back for sure, and catch him coming off of the plane."

"Hopefully Mrs. Rossi hasn't contacted him already." Presumably she wouldn't have- after all, with Lila likely in a coma, Mrs. Rossi was probably too overwhelmed to think of doing anything like contacting Lila's employer- but it never hurt to shut down those possibilities before their advantage could get spoiled.

...honestly, it was a bit questionable as to if Mrs. Rossi knew about Lila's modeling at all. Somehow Ladybug doubted it.

Chat Noir frowned. "I hadn't considered that. But assuming that she hasn't yet, maybe we could ask the police to ask her not to spread any news about Lila? Then Mr. Agreste would come back unprepared, and we could catch him and Na- er, Mayura at the airport. If he tries transforming there, everyone will see him and he'll know it."

"If he knows that we already know, it might not matter," Ladybug pointed out, but she could see his point. "I think that's a good idea."

"If it helps, Mrs. Rossi doesn't know about Lila's modeling!" Duusu chirped helpfully, finally emerging from the slowly shrinking pile of fruit. "It was all a secret! I'm not sure if she would have allowed it or not if she had known, but Lila didn't really tell her mom anything. She can't stop it if she doesn't know about it, right?"

"I feel like Lila took that approach with most things," Ladybug sighed. She looked over at Chat Noir. "I feel like we probably thought about everything. Ready to go talk to the police?"

"In a minute?" Chat Noir had curled up on himself, his eyes on Duusu. "I'm just... I know we have to work fast, but everything is still sinking in. I just can't believe that everything is coming together and finishing so quickly."

Ladybug nodded, re-settling on her cushion. Honestly, they could use a few extra minutes before they headed out, just to decide what they wanted to say. "I know what you mean. I never imagined that we would learn Hawkmoth's identity this way. It feels really strange to be planning his defeat instead of just beating him during a battle."

"Mm-hmm." Chat Noir had a rather funny look on his face. "...yeah. But I- I'm glad that we did find out this way, instead of during a battle. Now we can, uh, prepare."

"Exactly!" Ladybug smiled over at him. There was a fair amount of trepidation creeping in- now that the shock was starting to recede, there were a whole lot of possible problems and things to consider that were threatening to overwhelm her. The takedown wouldn't be terribly complicated, but how they wanted to deal with the fallout, and getting Duusu help, and what should or shouldn't become public, and- and-

But that could all wait. Right now, there was finally- finally- an end to all of the endless battles in sight, and she wanted to focus on that.

Gabriel Agreste was pleasantly surprised when he woke up on the last day of his business trip to a continued lack of news about any sort of superhero-supervillain activity in Paris.

If he was being entirely honest, he hadn't been completely positive that Lila would follow his instructions to not go out with the Peacock, even with his threats. Her ego was big enough to fill a mansion, and she had proven time and time again during her time as Pavona that she thought that her strategic planning was eons better than anyone else's, even though that was nowhere close to being true. He had had to whack her and her ego back down to make her into an even remotely competent partner, and he had worried that she would just bounce back and act out again without him there to issue corrections immediately.

Perhaps he would have had a more restful week had he collected the Miraculous from her before heading out on his trip and simply returned it afterwards, but his worries about if Lila would disregard his orders hadn't really surfaced until it was far too late to do anything about it.

"I do wonder how we should approach using the- the bird," Gabriel murmured to Nathalie, letting his voice drop into a whisper so that none of the other passengers in first class would overhear. "Like how much longer we should allow the girl to use it. We're not going to get any closer to the jewels with her assistance, but you seem to be feeling better now that you've had a break from using the pe- using the bird."

"I'm inclined to believe that my illness was a coincidence, given the fact that Ms. Rossi has not complained about feeling sick despite the rigorous pace you've set," Nathalie told him. "And I've been thinking about my return as well, and came up with a potential approach. If you bring her back out onto the battlefield for a couple of fights- let me finish, Gabriel, do not interrupt- and then reclaim the- the bird. I will use it and look just like her, atrocious outfit and all, and then we can take them off guard. They will be expecting a weak opponent and an easy monster and instead, come face-to-face with- well, me."

Gabriel hmmmed, stroking his chin. "Ah, yes. I like that idea. You might have to tr- to use her form before," he added, glancing around to make sure that no one was listening in. Thankfully, it seemed as though everyone in the rows around them either had headphones on or was asleep. "To get used to the difference in height and the, ah, outfit." He had to shudder at the thought. Pavona's outfit was one of the most garish and tasteless things that he had ever seen. Frankly, it was a bit concerning that Lila was spending so much time around fashion and had still managed to come up with that. "Speaking of Ms. Rossi and her health, I think it might be prudent to call her up for a shoot before you return, just so that we can see her in person and ensure that she isn't hiding an illness."

Nathalie tapped at her tablet. "Of course, sir. How soon should the shoot be?"

"After several attacks. She has gotten some time off from them, after all." Gabriel tapped his fingers against the arm of his chair, a sharp staccato as he thought. "Let's allow for three or four in quick succession. That way, if she has any symptoms, they should be at a detectable level."

"A solid plan, sir."

Gabriel only nodded in acknowledgement.

The remainder of their flight passed quickly. Gabriel sipped away at the wine that he had bought earlier in the flight- enough to take the edge off of the mind-numbing dullness of travel, not so much that he would appear remotely incapacitated once he had to get off the plane- and sketched while Nathalie took advantage of the airplane Wi-Fi to take care of her emails and plan out both his and Adrien's schedules for the next two weeks.

It wouldn't do to return behind schedule, after all. There was a lot of work that went into running a company like Gabriel, and it was getting harder and harder to fit everything in around their increased number of akumatizations without anyone noticing. Every spare minute had to used wisely.

Hopefully everything would be sorted out soon. With Nathalie's suggested plan, Gabriel figured that they should have the Miraculous in their hands by the end of the following week. Then they would have Emilie back, so there would be no need to continue the time-consuming akuma attacks, and she would be able to help both him and Nathalie with their work. They could get caught up, and then Gabriel would be able to expand several of the fashion lines and use his extra time to continue growing the business into a few new countries.

Emilie would probably insist on them going to a few of Adrien's fencing tournaments or basketball games or something, but Gabriel could always bring along his tablet so that he could continue working and wouldn't be wasting so much time on such frivolities.

"We got an email from Adrien's school yesterday afternoon," Nathalie commented as the plane started its descent, swiping at something on her tablet and then setting it aside as the announcement to put electronics away came over the intercom. "I hadn't looked at it before, since it wasn't marked as urgent, but it sounds like there was some sort of incident during one of their class outings. It doesn't go into details, but I suppose we should ask Adrien about it."

"I imagine that it's just some schoolyard drama, but yes, I suppose." There was, of course, the off chance that something moderately interesting had happened, but based on prior emails the school had sent out, it was far more likely that someone had tripped and scraped their knee and then someone else had felt faint at the sight of the blood or something ridiculous like that. "I do wish that the school was a bit more discriminating about what they bother parents about. If I wanted to know about every inconsequential detail about what is going on at school, I would ask Adrien."

Nathalie nodded. "Precisely. I suppose that they had to deal with complaints from overly-involved parents who wanted to know every detail about what their kids were doing and that's why they felt the need to send something out- and for something that didn't even happen on school grounds or during school hours, either."

"Ridiculous."

Nathalie nodded, and they fell silent as the plane finished its descent and landed. As soon as they were stopped at the gate, Nathalie was up and pulling their carry-ons down from overhead. They were almost the first people off, striding up the jetway towards the airport. It would mean a longer wait for their luggage, but Gabriel much preferred that over sitting in the plane for any longer.

"Do you think that you'll be checking in on Ms. Rossi tonight?" Nathalie asked. "To update her on the plan?"

Gabriel shook his head. "No, for several reasons. Since she's Adrien's classmate, she's likely to be aware that I was gone as well, and she's likely find out that I returned today. That's the problem with us including her at all. She's too high-maintenance and spoiled. I worry that if I tell her that I'm going to be taking the pin back ahead of time, she'll try to stab me in the back and run off with it. I'll give the attacks a break for another day or two, then do an attack and visit her afterwards. I think that would be best."

"And then when you want to take the pin back, just do it the day of," Nathalie agreed as they stepped into the airport. "Wise choice. I'm looking forward to not having to deal with her anymore. Or, well, not having to deal with her on that side of our lives. I suppose she still serves a purpose as a spy at the school."

Gabriel sighed. Honestly, he would rather not have to deal with such an unpleasant child, but she was a mildly useful tool. "Yes, at least for a while longer. As soon as we get-" he lowered his voice "-the Miraculous, then we can drop her like a hot potato. She's a pain in the rear at photoshoots, she's been holding up the entire proce-"

He never got to finish his sentence. Out of nowhere, Nathalie got sent flying as a black pole slammed into her back, and Gabriel found himself hog-tied and dragged sideways abruptly, with no chance to defend himself. His face hit the floor with a smack and his nose started stinging as he was yanked across the cheap airport carpet, fibers and dirt and stray tiny stones scraping across his skin. The sensation- along with the tearing noise that was almost definitely coming from either his jacket or his pants or both- was a distant concern, though, behind the absolute panic that was welling up in Gabriel. He thrashed frantically, trying to catch sight of who had roped him, but there were too many people around. There were shouts of surprise and panic from the crowds as people started running away, tripping over luggage and other people as they did.

Gabriel was yanked across another few meters of carpet before coming to an abrupt stop, still face-down on the carpet. There was something uncomfortably sticky across his cheek, and now-

Now there was definitely a foot pressing down on his back, holding him down. It didn't feel that big, so Gabriel tried to thrash.

The foot pressed down harder, clearly stronger than its small size indicated.

"Look at what came off!" a male voice called, and Gabriel twisted his head just enough to see Carapace straightening up, a scrap of fabric in hand. Just a little further back- where smooth floor switched to rough carpet- Gabriel's red and white-striped clip-on ascot lay on the floor, having apparently popped off-

-wait. Carapace?

No. No no no no no no no-

"One butterfly-themed brooch!" Carapace announced, waving the scrap of cloth around. "That was easy!"

"Nice!" a female voice cheered, and Gabriel's eyes shot over to where Rena Rouge and Chat Noir were handcuffing Nathalie, who... well, it looked like she might have been thrown into the coffee shop area when she was initially hit by what must have been Chat Noir's baton. "No last-ditch transformation attempts!"

"What-" Gabriel croaked, his mind spinning as he tried to piece together what was going on. It sounded like they knew that he was Hawkmoth and Nathalie was Mayura, but how was that even possible? They had been careful! They had made sure to not go in and out of the mansion from as Hawkmoth and Mayura- well, at least not from any visible entrances or ones that could be connected to the mansion- and they had never been unmasked in front of anyone. They made to detransform in hidden spots that didn't have any cameras, if they decided to detransform somewhere that wasn't in the mansion. "No, I'd like that back, it- it has a picture of my wife in it, it's very special to me-"

Carapace snorted. "Yeah, I bet it's special to you, Mr. Supervillain."

"Welcome back to Paris," Ladybug said cheerfully from where she stood on top of him, her friendly smile a little too wide, a little too toothy, just on the edge of dangerous. "By the way, you're under arrest."

Paris flew into an uproar as soon as the news of Hawkmoth's defeat reached the public, shock and joy filling the streets. The police wasted no time in releasing the official story that Ladybug and Chat Noir had fed them, which was that a classmate found the Peacock Miraculous on the civilian Pavona while administering first aid following Pavona's collapse. She had grabbed it to give to Ladybug and from there, the superheroes had been able to piece together the clues that led them to Mr. Agreste and Ms. Sancoeur.

Hawkmoth and Mayura's identities had been known as soon as the arrest was made, of course. People in the airport had seen the superheroes making an arrest and waving a pin around, and it was easy enough to put two and two together. The police had initially declined to confirm the reason for the arrest, but it hadn't been long before it was obvious that no one was buying it.

The public then turned to the next question: Gabriel Agreste was Hawkmoth and Nathalie Sancoeur was Mayura, but who was Pavona? Perhaps she hadn't been on the battlefield as much as Hawkmoth or Mayura, or for as long, and really she had been more or a minor annoyance for the superheroes (and a source of amusement for the rest of Paris, who rather enjoyed seeing the supervillain constantly getting beaten up), but she had joined the supervillains and needed to face the consequences.

This time, the police declined to release any names right away. They might have confirmed- with Duusu's help and with the recording of Hawkmoth recruiting Lila that they had found at the Agreste mansion- that Lila's participation was 100% voluntary, but since Lila was underage, they wanted to be more careful.

Needless to say, the superheroes were not thrilled about that, particularly once Lila's estranged father appeared and looked like he might be moving to use his connections- connections that did exist, unlike the ones that Lila claimed- to keep Lila's involvement on the down-low. She would still go to jail- no connections could make the evidence go away- but no one would know. Everyone in her class- in the whole school, really- would remember her as the super-cool, super-nice student who was going to save the world, only to be suddenly felled by an illness and then vanish.

Lila didn't deserve that. She had been a supervillain by choice, and that made her fake everyday-superhero persona an insult to everyone who actually dedicated their lives to helping others.

And so the superheroes tipped the scales, so to speak. All it took was them mentioning in the ex-supervillains' hearing range why Lila had taken ill so suddenly and intensely that she had collapsed and spilled the beans. Gabriel Agreste had been so thoroughly infuriated about the fact that Lila had gotten sick from her own entirely selfish use of the Miraculous instead of just by using the Peacock for his cause that he had told reporters who Pavona had been himself during a press conference several weeks after his arrest.

Once upon a time Adrien might have felt a little bad about manipulating his father to do his dirty work for him, but not anymore. After all, Lila deserved to be exposed, and Mr. Agreste really couldn't get in any more trouble than he was already in.

Besides, Mr. Agreste had made Adrien put up with Lila during photoshoots and study sessions that Adrien had objected to, so if he looked at it that way, his father owed it to him to ensure that Adrien wouldn't have to listen to his classmates gushing about and worrying over Lila for who-knew-how-long going forward.

As was to be expected, the truthfulness of the story was questioned when it first broke, but it didn't take people long to figure out that there was no point in Mr. Agreste lying. In fact, since his identity had been figured out due to Pavona's collapse, he was bound to be pretty motivated to take her down with him.

Besides, Lila had, in fact, passed out at a park and was still in the hospital. All of the details fit, and Paris was convinced.

After that, it wasn't long before the police confirmed Pavona's identity. Lila's father had raged, but at that point, there was no point in denying it any longer. Everyone knew the truth, and it wasn't long before all of Lila's other lies came to light, too.

Lila's reputation was in the trash and- well, no one could say that it wasn't very well deserved.

"Well, at least one good thing came out of Lila being here," Adrien commented as he and Marinette watched the latest news coverage on the upcoming supervillain trials in her family's apartment. Ever since they revealed their identities to each other, they had been practically attached at the hip as Adrien came to terms with his father's betrayal and anxiously waited for news about his mother's condition. It had been hard at first, but now that Mrs. Agreste was definitely on the mend- as the only non-villainous Peacock holder, it had been a unanimous decision to let her use the Miraculous to heal first while they figured out security measures for healing Lila and possibly Nathalie- he had been much more cheerful. "After all, she sort of caused Hawkmoth's downfall, even if it was sort of indirectly and very much by accident."

Marinette giggled, curling closer to his side. "Ooh, imagine her face when she realizes that. She joined Hawkmoth to try to cause my downfall, and it completely backfired on her."

"D'you think it would be rude if we sent her a thank-you card as superheroes once she finally gets healed?" Adrien mused, and then immediately shook his head. "No, never mind, that would be rubbing it in. Not a very good look for superheroes."

"I think that there will be plenty of people reminding her of that without us chiming in." Onscreen, the news gave way to a commercial break and Marinette muted the TV so that they didn't have to listen before turning all of her attention to Adrien. "I'm glad that everything worked out in the end, at least. It'll be nice to have our class go back to normal."

"It will be," Adrien agreed. He smiled over at Marinette, reaching over to take her hands. "Though I wouldn't mind there being a few changes to our old normal, Buginette."

Marinette's answering smile was shy. "Oh? I don't suppose the changes that you're thinking of just have to do with the fact that we won't be skipping class all of the time to fight akumas?"

"That'll be a bonus, sure, but it wasn't what I was thinking of." Adrien flashed a smile at her before his eyes dropped down to their joined hands. "My Lady, I was wondering- well, you know that I like you and, uh, I was kind of maybe getting the impression that, uh..."

Marinette couldn't hold back her grin as her poor kitty floundered. She let him try to recover for another second or two, then leaned forward and cut him off with a kiss. Adrien startled, then immediately melted into the kiss, his smile so wide that she could feel it.

The last couple of weeks had been tough, what with Adrien's father getting arrested and then immediately having to deal with getting the Peacock fixed so that they could start healing Mrs. Agreste (and eventually Lila), but they were past the worst of it now. Now they could start moving on and settle in to a new normal.

And honestly, neither of them could wait.

#Miraculous Ladybug #My writing #The Wavering Peahen #marinette dupain cheng

33 notes · View notes

khoicesbyk · 3 years

Text

The Royal Romance.

A/N: I’ve decided to go into my own little TRR world and create an AU. This will be fun! So; Talley Ho! *in my Sherlock Holmes voice*

Rated: Explicit. | Contains sexual content and strong language. (You know? The usual from me. 😁) | Bolded and/or italicized words are conversations and thoughts of the characters. | Main Characters: King Marquise Rys (LI) and Queen Shanelle Dawkins (MC) | All Characters and names: (except MC and certain original characters, created by me) are property of Pixelberry.

Current Word Count: 1,980 words.

I made a Drabble! Woooooohoooooo! Go me!

Prompt Time! Today I’m using @wackydrabbles Prompt #73 “Why Did You Do It?” It’ll be in bold in black.

Tag List: @lifeaskim @choiceslady @texaskitten30 @bebepac @glaimtruelovealways @kingliam2019 @txemrn @pixie88 @lucy-268 @hopelessromanticmonie @secretaryunpaid @shanzay44 @choicesfannatalie @wackydrabbles @choicesficwriterscreations

I AM UNAPOLOGETICALLY NSFW! READER DISCRETION IS STRONGLY ADVISED!

As always if you’d like to be added to my tag list. Just reblog or DM me and I will gladly add you! 😁😘

Chapter 18.) The Declaration.

(Italicized words are King Marquise’s POV)

I couldn’t believe what I’d just heard. Tariq SaVion, someone I once considered a good friend, had just announced his intention to take the crown. On the day of my father’s funeral, no less.

“Now I’m sure many of you think that I’m being insensitive to his majesty and The Royal Family. I assure you that is not the case. I too mourn the death of King Father. He was a great man. An impeccable leader. Someone who gave his all for and to Cordonia and her people. May he rest in eternal peace. And I do sincerely extend my heartfelt condolences to them in their time of grief.”

“Unbelievable.” I heard my brother say. I stayed silent, holding Shanelle close to me as I listened.

“I’m not saying that his majesty is or has been a terrible person or monarch. But what I am saying is that his choice in queen has left much to be desired. The court doesn’t approve of nor do they trust her. And with good reason. And if they can’t, then my fellow Cordonians neither can you.”

“Excuse me?! Who the fuck does he is?!” I hear my love say out loud. I love her passion and especially her anger.

“I understand that many of you must be saying the same of me as I am of her. Duchess Shanelle wasn’t the only one involved with the scandal. I was as well. It ruined me. And you have every right to question me. But I can at least say this for myself. I’m a fellow Cordonian. She’s not.”

My grip on Shanelle’s hip tightens ever so slightly. No one talks about my future queen like that.

“Duchess Shanelle is not only not a noble but she’s an American. An absolute outsider! One who thinks that, she can just waltz in and take the monarchy for herself! She knows nothing about Cordonia, her customs or her people. For all we know, she’s a devil in a ball gown.”

“Nuh uh! Compared to him, Shanelle’s an absolute angel!” Maxwell quips. He’s right. My love is an angel.

“We as Cordonians can’t trust her. She’ll lead us to ruin! We must stand up! We must revolt! We must throw her out! Because I can guarantee you that his majesty won’t. He’s too blinded by love to get rid of her. Which is why I am challenging for the throne. Per Legitima successione nobilium, I challenge for the crown. Again, I have no ill will towards King Marquise. This has to do with what is in the best interest of the crown, the people and the country.”

“He can’t do that!” I hear Hana blurt out. She’s standing next to my brother who has a weary look on his face.

“As many of you know I am not a noble. But my future queen is.”

“Future queen?! Who’d be dumb enough to marry him?” Drake asks.

He’s a good man that one. Always loyal. Even to a fault. But Drake was right about one thing. No woman would be stupid enough to marry Tariq. Even if it was for political reasons. Or so I thought. Because a woman did take his side.

“Ladies and gentlemen, my future queen: Duchess Kaitlyn Winslow of House Fierro. Because of her noble house being one of the Great Houses, we will be your next king and queen.”

To say I was shocked is an understatement. I’ve always known that Duchess Kaitlyn was always ambitious but, never in a million years did I think she’d align herself with someone the likes of him. He was always someone I figured that she’d consider beneath her. Joke was clearly on me.

We watched as he turned to her and asked, “my dear would you like to say a few words?”

My jaw clenched as I watched her take to the podium.

“Thank you, my future king. As Tariq mentioned we are challenging for the throne and the crown. And I would like to reiterate that this is not a personal attack on his majesty or The Royal Family. This is a battle for you Cordonia. We can’t have some common foreigner ruling our country. It would put us at great risk as a nation. Our enemies will continue to consider us weak! We can’t have that! So when Tariq reached out to me about a mutually beneficial relationship between us, I instantly agreed. I love our country and her people and I, like my future king would do anything to protect it. Which is why we are calling on all of the great houses to hold a parliamentary election, as they did when King Fabian was crowned.”

“Ohhh you gotta be fucking kidding me! That law hasn’t been used or thought of in 500 years!” Leo said with clear anger and aggravation in his voice.

Although my brother was right, the law no matter how outdated, is still on the books and sadly is still valid. And as king there was nothing I could do to stop them from using it.

“My future king and I will be hosting our own debut at my family’s estate. And we cordially invite all nobles, including his majesty and friends to attend. I can promise that it will be a night that no one will forget.”

I felt Shanelle nuzzling my neck. I could tell that she was extremely upset.

“My future queen and I want to thank each of you in the press for attending our joint press conference and we’d especially like to thank our fellow Cordonians for watching. And to his majesty, may the best man win! Even though I already know that the best man is me.”

After turning off the TV and throwing the remote down, it was over. I couldn’t believe it. I just couldn’t believe it. How dare they challenge me? What’s more, how dare they speak that way about Shanelle?! My angel?! My Goddess?! My Queen?! To say that I’m angry is an understatement. My love still hadn’t said anything about what we just saw and I was beginning to feel concerned.

“Will you all give us a moment?” I ask my friends. With nods they walk out of my study, leaving just me and my queen.

“You’re quiet, my queen.” I say to her.

I could feel her trembling body against my chest. I knew then that she was beyond upset.

“Talk to me, Shanelle.”

She shook her head no.

“Please say something, my love. Don’t let what they said about you, get to you.”

That’s when I felt tears on my left shoulder.

“My queen please don’t cry!” I say as I try to soothe her.

“But they’re right about me.” She says as her voice breaks.

When I tilt her chin up to look into her eyes, I see those beautiful brown eyes filled with tears. I’m both hurt and enraged at that point.

“No they aren’t! They don’t know you like I do. They don’t know your passion, your fire, your drive, your willingness to do and be better than before. They certainly don’t know your incredibly large heart. They don’t know your intelligence. They don’t know your adaptability to changing situations. They don’t know your determination. They don’t know your compassion. My love, there’s more to bring a queen than just ruling.”

“But Marquise the court…the court hates me! They don’t want me here! Your mother said it herself, if they can’t and don’t trust or like me, they won’t be compelled to get their people to like me!” She says as she cries in my arms.

“The court is a fickle thing. One minute they love and embrace you and the next, they hate you with the fury and power of 1,000 suns. That shouldn’t stop you my love.”

I rub her back in an attempt to soothe her cries.

“I don't want to be the reason why you lose everything you have worked for!” She cries to me.

“Shanelle look at me! I want you to know and hear me when I say this, you are not the reason why I could or would possibly lose everything! They are! This is solely on them! Not you! Do you understand?” I ask her.

Irrational as her fears may be to me, they were real to her. And that’s all that matters.

“Yes I understand.” She whispered to me.

“Good. Now we have to go on the offensive. Because unfortunately I can’t stop them from calling on that law.”

“Even though you’re the king?” She asks.

“It may be an ancient and decrepit bylaw but it’s a law. And I as king am forbidden to use my power to go against it.” I reply to her.

I see her cries start to dissipate then eventually they stop. I kiss the remaining tears that fall away.

“Why did you do it?” She asks me. I’m a little confused.

“Do what, my queen?” I ask her.

“Stand here and comfort me, knowing that someone wants to take your crown.”

Damn she’s good.

“Because that’s what a king does. He gives comfort and protection even in his own pain, anger and misery. My father taught me that.”

She smiled at me. God that damn smile. I would do anything just to see it.

“Do you feel better, mon amour?” I ask her.

“Yes or at least I’m trying to be.” She replies.

“That’s all I ask. Listen to me. We will fight this. I promise you that. I will not just lay down and let someone take everything I have earned. This is nothing more than a power grab. They don’t care about the country or its people. The crown and the throne are more than just a birthright to me. They are my responsibility to my family, to my people, to my country, to my own honor and duty and especially to you, my love.”

“I don’t understand. What do you mean to me?” She asks.

“As a king, I have a responsibility to my queen. I am your servant before I am a servant of the people. It is up to me to make sure that you are always fulfilled in every way.” I tell her.

She smiled softly at me. Saints give me the strength to not take her on this desk right here right now.

“I’d say that you’re off to a good start, my king.”

There she is. There’s my queen.

“Good. I’d hate to think I’ve been failing in my duties to you, my queen.”

She had this thoughtful look on her face.

“I wouldn't say that you’ve been failing in your duties. Buuuuuuut you have been slacking.”

“Who?! Me?! What?! How?! When?! Where?!” I ask her.

There it is again. That smile that makes me want to scale an erupting volcano. Okay that’s it, dear God if you’re listening: Help! Me! Before! She! Winds! Up! Being! The! Reason! That! I! Don’t! Make! It! Into! Heaven!

“You never finished kissing me.” She replied.

Phew! Crisis of biblical proportions averted.

“Ohhh my! You’re right my queen! Allow me to rectify this egregious oversight on my part at once!”

God I love the taste of her lips! They much like the rest of her, are always soft, supple and decadent. And that kiss…God forgive my sinful thoughts!

“Much better, my king.”

“Good. Now I have to ask you my queen: are you ready to go to war?” I ask her.

“For you? For us? For our people? For our kingdom and country? Hell yeah!” She replied.

“Excellent! Now I believe we’ve been invited to a farce of a debut. And you know how I just love a good party.”

“Well then it’s settled my king. We have a debut to crash.” She said to me with a sly wink.

God I love this woman!

#choices #pixelberry #choices stories you play #khoicesbyk #choices fanfiction #fanfic #queen of cordonia #king of cordonia #queen shanelle #king marquise

28 notes · View notes

shitty-marvel-fan732 · 4 years

Text

Boyfriend?

Author’s Note:

Hello my friends! This is my first ever Loki x Reader oneshot, so I hope I didn’t do too poorly! This fic was beta-read by the wonderful @twentytwohearts!

If you end up liking this fic, let me know with a comment or reblog! I am taking requests for Loki as well as several other marvel characters, and if this fic inspires you, feel free to send one in!

Summary: Y/N and Loki have been getting closer for several weeks, but he’s still very ambivalent about their relationship status. Toss in a Stark party and an over eager fan and what will happen?

IDEK y’all, I’m shit at summaries. Just…read it lol.

“Mmmmm,” I hummed non-committedly as some older man in a suit more expensive than my entire life was worth continued rambling on next to me. I shifted uncomfortably in the ridiculous heels that Wanda had insisted I wear tonight, mentally groaning at the way they pinched my toes. I could already feel the blisters forming over the calloused soles of my aching feet.

I was stuck at one of Tony’s famous parties, forced into a dress and heels by an overly zealous Sokovian, and hating every second. To add insult to my injury, I’d been caged into a conversation with one of the most boring, awkward men I’d ever met in my life. I couldn’t be sure exactly how long it’d been, but I did know it had been too long. I’d been subjected to literal torture, on multiple occasions, and even so I was sure this was worse.

He seemed innocuous enough at first – albeit very awkward. He was thin and tall, with a slightly receding hairline and an air of a man that made more money than I could possibly fathom. As soon as I unintentionally made eye contact with him from across the crowded room, his face lit up like a Christmas tree. He immediately made a beeline over to me with all the excitement and grace of an overexcited labrador puppy. He’d launched into conversation instantly, chatting eagerly about my abilities and past as if he had lived it himself. It was more than a bit creepy really how many details he knew about me and my life.

At first, I was polite – smiling and nodding along with him as he animatedly spoke, all the while internally wishing to be literally anywhere else. I supplied as little as possible to our little chat, desperately hoping he would run out of steam and leave. But after what felt like hours, it was clear he wasn’t going to take the hint. I finally determined it’d been long enough, so I tried to gracefully leave the conversation.

Unfortunately, all my attempts fell on deaf ears. Though I was certain any sane person would’ve understood how uncomfortable I was based solely on body language, the eager man was evidently unaware of my obvious attempts to end our interaction, verbal or otherwise. He was either the most socially inept dude to have ever lived or the most persistent fan I’d ever encountered. Personally, I was beginning to think it was a bit of both, but regardless I was more than ready to leave politeness behind and tell him point-blank to fuck off. If it hadn’t been for Tony’s lecture beforehand about not doing exactly that, I probably would have done it already.

Eyes scanning the room, I desperately looked for a way out of the encounter. After a few seconds my eyes fell upon Steve’s sympathetic gaze.

Cap and I had known each other for a long time, and he knew as well as I did that if I didn’t find a socially acceptable way out soon that I’d resort to less than polite tactics to remove this dude from my side. He nodded once at me in understanding, before excusing himself from his own conversation and disappearing into the crowd.

“So, I don’t know if I’d mentioned it or not yet, but you look really really good tonight,” the red-faced man standing next to me said loudly, pulling my attention away from Cap. Though internally I was screaming, I simply shot him a polite thin-lipped smile.

“You did. Thank you once again,“ I replied shortly. He had, in fact, mentioned this multiple times tonight, and I was beginning to feel my patience run dangerously thin. He was evidently not fazed by my facial expression nor the irritated tone of my voice, and only smiled wider at my response.

Fortunately for me, his next comment was cut off by the sudden presence of another body pressed to my back. At first I tensed, unsure of the contact, but felt myself relax as I recognized the familiar feel of leather armor-clad arms wrapping themselves securely around my waist.

“I’ll never understand how you mortals can have spoken a language your entire lives and still not have an adequate grasp over its use,” Loki interrupted smoothly, breath fanning my ear as he spoke. I had to bite down on my lower lip to keep from laughing at the look on the poor man’s face as he realized who was standing behind me.

” I– uhm. I’m sorry, what?“ the man stuttered out, confusion and fear overtaking his features.

“Good. You said my dearest Y/N looked ‘really good’ tonight,” came Loki’s smooth reply. “Now, perhaps there is some kind of midgardian norm that I am unaware of, or maybe you have some sort of deficiency that’s affecting your eyesight? Nevertheless, I would feel remiss if I did not mention how many different adjectives there are to describe Y/N at this moment: radiant, elegant, sublime, exquisite, just to name a few among the many there are. Hundreds more I’d wager, but of all the words in the dictionary you chose ‘good’? Hm.”

The man’s face visibly paled as the Prince spoke, and I could feel the irritation and possessiveness seeping from his body with each word he spoke. His body tensed against my back and I could instantly tell that he was growing angry and impatient with the man before us. My hands came to rest over the tops of his; I began gently rubbing soft circles into his flesh in an effort to soothe him. Though I secretly adored the praise and affirmation of his feelings, I’d promised Tony not to cause a scene, and I was certain that promise extended to Loki as well. I’d spent the better part of my evening desperately trying to be good, and I’d be damned if I was going to let all that effort go to waste simply because a certain dark-haired Asgardian couldn’t control his temper. Thankfully, I felt the tall god lean slightly into my touch, his tense form relaxing gradually.

“I’m so sorry…I had no — I didn’t know that he was your…that you were his…” the man floundered and I began to feel a twinge of pity for his clear distress.

“Boyfriend?” I supplied with a small chuckle. The man nodded frantically, however his reaction was overshadowed by the Asgardian behind me. I felt Loki tense in response to my words, and I turned my head to see his beautiful face distorted into a grimace.

Of course.

I’d been so thankful for his presence I’d clearly forgotten about his seeming discomfort with the label. Loki clearly despised the term, and never failed to make his feelings known.Though in the past months I’d grown exceptionally close to the god of mischief, he and I had never truly spoken about our 'relationship’.

Much to Loki’s discomfort, I often referred to him as my boyfriend. In turn he referred to me as “dear Y/N,” “my pet,” “love,” or something of the like. Though it didn’t bother me at first, I was beginning to feel very insecure at his seeming inability to label our relationship. Each time the word was brought up he always reacted just as he was now: visibly uncomfortable and dismayed.

With every scowl, every look of disgust I felt a tiny pang in my heart that was only growing larger with each instance. Tonight was no exception, and I felt my face physically drop in response to his reaction. My palms began uncomfortably sweating, and I detangled myself from his arms as nonchalantly as possible. My thoughts were clouded with a haze of disappointment. The room began to feel too busy – the voices all seeming to scream directly into my ear and the air thick and suffocating.

Suddenly feeling ill, I muttered an excuse and began to walk away from the two. No longer caring about how I was seen, I walked quickly through the crowd of people and out into the hallway. I braced myself against the wall as I stopped for a moment to catch my breath. My head was spinning with disjointed thoughts as I took deep breaths of the cool air. I pulled the God-forsaken heels from my feet roughly, desperate to give myself some degree of comfort as I slowly came back to reality. I leaned my head against the wall in exhaustion – my mind practically screaming taunts of embarrassment and shame.

When Thor had first arrived unannounced to the tower with the trickster in tow, the team and I had been largely skeptical. However, in time Loki proved himself to have indeed been “rehabilitated,” and after a while Steve and Tony had allowed him to start going on missions with the team. Slowly but surely the two of us began to bond; at first it was over his fascination with my abilities and our mutual love of literature, but as the weeks went by I found myself developing feelings I didn’t quite understand for the lanky god. To my extreme surprise, I began to feel that my affections were reciprocated. The last few weeks had been wonderful– the two of us had fallen into a natural rhythm of spending time together, both on missions and otherwise.

Reflecting back on our time spent together, I felt the tiny pang of insecurity grow larger in my chest, filling me with feelings of shame and embarrassment. Clearly, Loki didn’t feel the same about our relationship as I did, if it could even be classified as such. And why should he? He was a Prince – a literal god – and I was just a lowly mortal. I was a fool. A pitiful, lovestruck girl that fell for someone who would never love her the same. It was depressing really. I chuckled humorlessly as I realized how sappy and teen-novelesque my situation had become.

“Love?” his voice drifted into my ears, effectively pulling me out of my thoughts for the moment. I kept my head hung low and eyes trained on the floor. The knots in my stomach tightened their grip at the usually welcomed sound of his voice. My mind only raced faster as he approached me and my heart beat wildly out of control.

I felt familiar, soft fingers hook their way under my chin as Loki gently lifted my face to meet his. His expression was one of irritation – likely lingering from the interaction with that insufferable businessman – but his green-blue eyes swam with a much gentler sort of feeling. Though he rarely showed true emotion on his face, his eyes were a different story. Impossibly deep and full of secrets, they always betrayed his true feelings. I’d become close enough to the lanky god in the past weeks that I was able to decipher those emotions with stunning accuracy. Currently, his eyes exuded feelings of concern and affection.

“Are you alright?” he questioned gently. I exhaled lightly.

“I’m fine.” I muttered, eyes turning downwards once more. Loki’s eyes sparkled with slight amusement as one of his brows quirked upwards.

“So bold of you my dear, to attempt to withhold the truth from the god of lies,” he teased, lips curling into a lopsided smirk.

All the feelings of embarrassment and shame abruptly shifted within me at the sight of his smug face. Internally, my overwhelming sadness was turning to anger and resentment quicker than I could control.

“I’m not lying!“ I snapped, brows furrowing and body practically jumping away from his. His expression morphed from amused to concerned instantly, forehead crinkling in confusion.

“Is this about that infuriating man back there?” he questioned, confusion and worry evident in his tone. “If so, please don’t trouble yourself any longer over the matter. I think I’ve made it perfectly cle–”

“He was sweet Loki,” I grumbled stubbornly, cutting him off. Although I had absolutely no desire to return to a conversation with him, the man was clearly well-intentioned. I’d actually forgotten all about him – but I couldn’t stand to hear Loki make some excuse for my poor mood.

He recoiled slightly at my display of irritation, surprised. I’d never interrupted him before and it was obvious he was even more perplexed than before with the unexpected outburst. Never one to show weakness, his face abruptly shifted to his typical expressionless mask.

“Sweet? You didn’t seem to think so whilst he was harassing you before, now did you?” he questioned cooly. “I know your face well enough by now, dearest Y/N, and your eyes were practically screaming for assistance.”

I scoffed, arms coming to rest petulantly across my chest.

“Well if you know me as well as you claim, then by all means you should have no problem understanding why I’m upset,” I huffed, hoping he took the bait and simply asked why I was upset. Instead, I was infuriated as I watched a sly grin make its way across his handsome features.

“But I thought you weren’t upset sweetling?” he grinned. He looked extremely proud of himself – clearly ecstatic to have coerced me into admitting that I’d lied, even though he’d known so since the start.

Ordinarily I adored his intelligence – delighting in hearing the inner workings of his mind – but right now his display of wit combined with the smug expression he was sporting made my fists tingle with the urge to punch him straight in the face. I could feel my face burn red with anger at the sly remark and my eyes narrowed into near slits.

“Oh, shut up Loki,” I snapped. “Clearly, we both know I’m pissed."

"Then by all means, please enlighten me, because I evidently don’t understand,” he taunted. Though his words were laced with his trademarked contempt, I could see the twinge of concern still evident in his eyes. The small indication that he seemed to care about me caused all the feelings of sadness and insecurity to bubble back up to the surface. I sighed, taking a breath to steady myself before deciding to just dive right into what was sure to be an extremely awkward conversation.

“I don’t understand you! Or – I guess – I don’t understand us. What we are. I mean, are you ashamed of me because I’m not from Asgard or something? Or do you just not feel the same way I do? Oh god, I’ve completely misinterpreted everything haven’t I? I’m so stupid, I–” I babbled quickly, words slurring together with speed and face flushing.

Loki’s soft hands came to rest on my arms, effectively cutting off my panicked ramblings. His facial expression was a strange mix of pity, fear, and confusion that I’d never seen before. I felt tears begin to prick the corners of my eyes and a burning sensation overwhelmed my sinuses. I cast my eyes downward once more, suddenly filled with self-pity and feeling extremely exposed. Loki was having none of that – his gentle fingers came to rest under my chin, pulling my face back up to meet his gaze once more.

“Why in all the nine realms would you think I don’t feel the same?” he mused softly, brows dipping lower with concern and fingers gently caressing my face. “Have I not made my affections clear?”

“Well, you tell me, Loki. When we’re alone I think I know where we stand, but then there are incidents like tonight that make me think differently. I mean, you visibly cringe when I refer to you as my boyfriend…" I started, frown deepening at his visible recoil at the term. “See! Just like that, what is that? Do you not consider us together? Are we not, oh god, I dunno exclusive?”

Loki sighed, removing his hands from my face and rubbing his face tiredly. He looked like a parent exasperated with their child. Though I was pretty sure that wasn’t his intention, the small action reignited the spark of anger and resentment I’d felt before, and the overwhelming urge to punch him in his stupid handsome face returned abruptly.

“You know what, whatever. I don’t care what you refer to me as anymore Loki. Better yet, just don’t refer to me at all,“ I spat, turning angrily on my heel and stomping away.

I didn’t make it more than a few steps before I felt a hand on my bicep and I was twirled back around. Suddenly I was chest to chest with an extremely pissed off looking god. Never one to back down from confrontation, I glared definantly into his face. His eyes were almost eerie, a stormy mix of blue and green that reminded me of a sea just before a hurricane. His expression was nearly unreadable as his face searched mine – mouth set in a thin line and dark brows furrowed in anger.

“You truly think so little of me and of yourself that you assume that I am embarrassed by you?” he practically seethed. “Darling, I could never and will never be embarrassed by your presence in my life. Do not mistake my reluctance to use trivial, midgardian terms as a reluctance to share my infatuation with you.”

My eyebrows wrinkled in confusion, silently urging him to continue since I clearly was not understanding what he was getting at. He exhaled loudly, hand leaving my arm to run through his inky locks in another show of exasperation.

“I don’t understand,” I muttered, still hoping to prompt him into further explanation. His eyes seemed to soften marginally as they swept over my face. I was beginning to feel nearly uncomfortable under the god’s heavy gaze, but (as was usually the case) I also felt the all too familiar feelings of butterflies in my lower belly that only Loki’s attention seemed to stir. After an immeasurable length of time, he sighed once more, soft fingers parting from his sides to come to rest on my body. One of his hands reached down to latch onto the curve of my waist firmly. He pulled our chests flush with one another gently. The other fluttered delicately to the side of my face, thumb rubbing small circles into the soft flesh. My own palms came to rest across the smooth planes of his armor-clad chest – an action my body took without having to consult with my mind first.

“Dearest, I think I should first apologize for the way my actions have made you feel,” he started gently, voice low in tone and volume and words practically dripping with affection and remorse as he looked down at me. “Never in all the time I’ve spent with you have I noticed any signs of your discomfort; if I had, we would’ve had this discussion much sooner.”

I swallowed thickly, unsure of where he was going with this. Though I wanted him to get on with it and just tell me how he felt, part of me wished I’d never brought the subject up to begin with. Feelings of indecision and doubt made their home in the pit of my stomach as I waited impatiently for him to continue.

“As you know I often, shall we say, struggle to make sense of the customs and norms here,” he continued. “Though I’ve read vast amounts on the subject, I can’t seem to quite grasp the ‘normal’ way of life here – especially when it comes to your people’s courting traditions.”

I felt my wrinkled brows quirk upwards in surprise, not expecting the conversation to turn this way. My heart hammered so loudly in my chest with anticipation, I was sure he could hear it. If he could, he didn’t let it show. His gaze never wavered from my own – grey-blue eyes swimming with vulnerability as they surveyed my face.

"As you’d probably expect, things are done much differently on Asgard. What you refer to as 'dating’ we call 'courting’, and the expectations and labels wildly differ. We call our partners 'Kærasti’ when speaking of them to others and 'elskan mín' when speaking with one another. Both of which translate loosely to 'my darling loved one’,” he explained softly.

A short intake of breath nearly brought me out of the trance I’d felt like I’d been under the entire time Loki had been speaking. His gentle words and piercing gaze had been almost hypnotic; I’d spent the better part of the last few moments wholly enthralled by the smooth timbre of his voice, savoring the affection he radiated with each word. The words 'elskan mín' filtered its way through my ears into the fog that was . Though still foreign to my ears, I knew I’d heard the phrase before.

“And, if I’m correct, the customary term for partners on this realm is 'boyfriend/girlfriend’?” he questioned gently. I nodded dumbly, still in too much of a daze to properly form words. “Ahh, and you see therein lies my problem. Why should I devalue my feelings for you with such a loose, meaningless term? I much prefer the ones used back home. Terms that are more…descriptive of the state of our partnership.”

I was still moderately struggling to process what was being said, my mind consumed mostly of observations on his voice and eyes. But as I struggled to decipher his words, a realization struck me like a bullet. I suddenly realized where I’d heard the term 'elskan mín' before. It was in another lovestruck trance, memories a million miles away from this dimly lit hallway that my ears had picked up the endearing phrase for the first time.

Spoken in hushed murmurs by the very same god that was explaining the meaning to me now.

Spoken to me.

A blush began to creep its way up my neck at the stark realization, mortification the likes of which I’d never experienced before crashing over me like a tsunami. Whether he truly was a mind reader (I hadn’t ever been truly convinced that he wasn’t) or if my reddened face and sheepish expression had alerted him to my obvious embarrassment, he seemed to understand immediately. The hand that had been softly caressing my hip gave me a small squeeze of encouragement. Even with the affectionate gesture, the urge to bury myself as deeply into the floor as possible was still raging in my chest.

“Oh,” I squeaked. His eyes sparkled with amusement and his lip curled into his dazzling smirk.

“I gather, based on your reaction tonight, that you made the incorrect assumption that I was – what – disgusted by the idea of a monogamous relationship?” he asked plainly, getting straight to the point. Once again I nodded silently, my mind still too overworked to speak.

My face was burning with embarrassment, and I buried my head into his chest in a vain effort to hide from his amused gaze. Loki chuckled – the vibrations reverberating through his body and tickling my face. I couldn’t see his expression from my position, but I could picture it perfectly in my mind. The skin around his eyes was very likely crinkled from the size of his smile and his eyes a bright, clear blue lit brightly with a sparkle of amusement. The mental image alone was enough to send happy butterflies swirling around in my stomach, despite the lingering embarrassment. His arms left my sides as he chuckled – one closed itself around my back, pulling me securely against his chest, and the other came to rest on the base of my neck. His long fingers gently entangled themselves in the hair at the base of my head. His cheek found its home on the crown of my head, and I could feel his smooth lips gently place a kiss there. I shivered lightly at the sensation, embarrassment fading a marginal amount at the comforting embrace.

“Well, as thoroughly enjoyable as I find your sheepish state, I think we should clarify things,” he murmured softly against my hair. I hummed in agreement, waiting for him to start.

“My love, I truly am sorry that I ever made you doubt the feelings I have for you,” he whispered, causing yet another blush to break out across my face. “But I hope it’s enough that I tell you now. I am so infatuated with you, my dear Y/N, I do not care to hide that fact from anyone. I would tell anyone the same – especially irritating men like the one you were chatting with tonight. The hesitation you perceived has absolutely nothing to do with my affections for you, nor does it indicate a desire to be free from labels. I simply loathe the overly simplified, descriptionless terms that are the norm on this planet. But if it makes you happy, I’m sure I can –”

“No!” I blurted, cutting his next statement off completely. My head rose from its place nestled in Loki’s strong chest and my hands balled into fists atop the thick armor covering his chest in an effort to gain his attention. My eyes searched his, and based on the surprise and confusion evident in his pale blue irises, I would wager that I looked at least a little crazy in this moment. It wasn’t like me to interrupt him while speaking and this was the second time in mere hours that I’d done so. My neck warmed marginally as I spoke up, the now familiar feelings of embarrassment rising within me once more as I looked upwards at the amused expression on Loki’s handsome face. I shoved the embarrassment back down, steadying myself with a deep breath before I spoke.

“Sorry. I just – I don’t want you to change the way you act around me, at all,” I stammered, confidence deflating slightly as I realized I didn’t actually quite know what I wanted to say. He wrinkled his eyebrows in confusion, eyes roaming across my reddened face in search of answers. “I mean, it’s okay with me, whatever you choose to refer to me as. As long as I’m the only one you refer to.”

His face broke out into the devilish smirk that made my knees go weak. I suddenly had slight trouble standing upright. Luckily for me, his strong arms were still wrapped around my frame, and he had no qualms about holding me tighter in his embrace. He pulled me closer to his body with one arm as his other snaked its way up to the side of my face. Loki’s thumb rubbed gently across my mouth as we gazed at each other, making my head go cloudy with memories of his smooth lips pressed against mine. He leaned down so close to my face that I could feel the warmth across my lips from each breath he took. The feelings of affection and anticipation curled themselves in my belly with such intensity that I almost missed his soft voice as he replied.

“Are you sure elskan mín?” he whispered, tone teeming with an off-character level of uncertainty. Though his voice made him seem unsure his body reacted as it always did when we were alone. His lips were so close to mine now that I could feel them brush teasingly against me with each tender word. I felt my brain short-circuit at the brief touch. Though there was still so much to be said, so much to discuss, I couldn’t handle the irritating distance between us for another second. So I grabbed the sides of his face and pulled his lips down to mine in lieu of a response. My fingers traced aimless patterns across the smooth planes of his sharp jawline as our lips tangled in an all too familiar dance.

Though we’d shared more than our fair share of kisses in the past months, this one felt different somehow. Each place his hands touched felt like they left a trail of fire in their wake and the way his lips moved against mine felt almost possessive. My entire being felt like it was floating on pure air as we kissed, and I felt extreme disappointment when I had to pull back to breathe. Evidently, Loki did not share my need for oxygen, and he continued to place small kisses across my face. Through my labored breathing and the love-filled haze that was clouding my thoughts I was still able to internally swoon at the sweet action. Typically, Loki was just as he appeared to be: calm, self-assured, and reluctant to express his affection, lest he become vulnerable. But it seemed that he wasn’t too concerned with showing his vulnerability at the moment, and the feeling of his soft lips roaming across the skin of my face and neck caused the butterflies in my belly to swarm with glee.

Eventually he slowed his affectionate attack, and his forehead came to rest against mine. We stood like this for an immeasurable amount of time, eyes closed, neither of us speaking a word as the muffled sounds of the party filtered in from the hall. I smiled, elated as my eyes fluttered open and I drank in my favorite sight – Loki, at his most exposed. His eyes were still closed, breathing slightly ragged, a small but genuine smile gracing his thin lips, and the normally creamy skin of his cheeks blotchy with patches of pink. There was no greater feeling in this world than seeing him in such an utterly blissful state and knowing I was somehow lucky enough to have been the cause.

“Yes.” I whispered gently, hesitant to break the peaceful cocoon that we’d encased ourselves in. Loki’s eyelids opened lazily, revealing the pale blue color that I’d come to dream about.

“Yes?” he repeated questioningly. I giggled lightly at the look of slight confusion that painted the handsome god’s features.

“Yes, I’m sure,” I explained patiently. A flash of understanding passed his face at the statement, and his face broke out into yet another knee-buckling smile. He leaned his head down towards mine – no doubt about to capture my lips in a sweet kiss. Though my body was screaming against the movement, I ducked my head backwards to avoid his kiss. His brows furrowed in confusion, the creases on his forehead deepening at the amused giggle that escaped me at the sight.

“I am sure, but can you do me one favor?” I asked innocently. His face remained puzzled as he slowly nodded. His hands resumed their previous ministrations, smoothly running down the length of my body and back as we stood.

“Can you not make a face like you’ve smelled something bad when someone uses the word boyfriend? Cause I don’t care how cute you are, I am never going to be cool with that,” I requested semi-jokingly. Loki merely blinked for a moment, a stunned look on his face as he took in my words. I felt a tingle of insecurity pass through my chest at his reaction, but waited patiently for a response nonetheless.

After what felt like hours, the look of stunned confusion passed his features as his most genuine, face-splitting smile took over. He chuckled as he pulled me closer into his chest – the sound sending waves of relief through me as I snuggled readily into his embrace.

“Duly noted, my love.”

993 notes · View notes

flyonthewallmedstudent · 3 years

Text

Watching House as a Physician. Season 2 Episode 3. Infectious diseases & Respiratory.

Welcome to another episode of medicine done badly. I’ve been watching House on Amazon prime. Got the subscription during the pandemic, as like everyone else, I’ve garnered an online shopping habit now.

Alright. In the opening scene a young roof worker falls off the roof presumably due to acute shortness of breath. i.e. trouble breathing. (why do we use the term shortness of breath? it’s the english version of the greek term dyspnoea - the actual preferred language of Western doctors. Fuck do I know why we like Greek and Latin so much. Moving on.) Then cut to Dr. Cuddy examining him in the back of the ambulance.

This would never happen in real life. Yes you can be on the scene and handover to the paramedics or EMT when they arrive as a doctor. But they would take over. I personally wouldn’t have the balls to look after a patient in a different environment, different resources and field I’m not familiar with. You can have field Emergency docs - but requires different training.

Also, ethically, you’re not meant to treat family or friends. Dr. Cuddy later in the episode gets a bit emotionally involved - this is why we don’t treat people close to us. We lose objectivity. We make mistakes. And you see later see Cuddy do some pretty bad ones.

I feel like much of this episode is not really IM. THere’s less differential diagnoses being made. More side tracks into trauma, emergency, intensive care or vascular surgery.

Anyhoo. Trauma and emergency would manage the fall and post fall traumatic injuries. And the trauma protocol was either not shown or completely off in this episode. Surgeons don’t seem to exist in House, at least not very much. Similarly, no other doctors exist except surgeons in Grey’s anatomy. Also you can’t clear a C Spine clinically, which is what Dr. Cuddy does in the back of the ambulance. You’d need a CT first and clearance both radiological (by a radiologist) and a clinician.

Aaaanddd, you can’t just listen to the chest and go no pneumothorax (air in lung or collapsed lung) - yes it’s reassuring, but again you’d need imaging to confirm this, given how serious a condition this is. It is realistic to consider in the setting of a fall, particularly if there are rib fractures that can puncture the lung.

Once the more critical injuries are managed, we would look after the IM side to things.

So. Finally.. differential diagnoses.

Takes what seems and feels like days before they finally sit down and go through differentials. Really not much on that white board. Dark fingers, broken ribs, fever and lung infiltrates. Time line’s not clear on when he developed the fever.

Presenting complaint isn’t really addressed. It could be: - Dyspnoea, leading to the fall, he’s requiring O2 via nasal prongs, which suggests that he’s hypoxic (this is definitely odd in a young guy who’s normally very physical fit if he works as labourer). so much to unpack here, but they never get into this well. Post fall, Cuddy notices his ring and pinky finger becoming dusky, which becomes very central in this episode. Very few things would cause this. pains me that they do no differentials on a white board for this alone.

Then a lot of throwing around medical terms.

PTT prolonged and Fibrinogen off. These are markers of your coagulation pathway and signs that you’re not forming the clots the way you should if you have an injury. DIC is also thrown around. What is DIC? Disseminated intravascular coagulopathy. Certainly severe sepsis and trauma can cause this and lead to severe bleeding. It will throw off your coagulation pathways (things that stop bleeding). It’s not common. I’ve treated it once, while I was rotating in ICU, it is not standard ward medicine practice. Standard therapy is fresh frozen plasma (FFP) and even large metropolitan hospitals only have a limited supply. It’s a huge concern for surgery and post-op (as you patient will just not stop bleeding after you cut them open, and if not treated, potentially bleed to death). Cuddy mentions ARDS. Acute respiratory distress syndrome, it could be a complication, but it’s not a cause. Again, falls more into the realm of critical care (a la ICU). However, patient had SOB prior to the fall. Finally HOuse makes the observation. of “what if he was sick before he had his run in with gravity...” Everyone jumps to Pneumonia. And this is where it gets confusing. If he was unwell, the minute he entered the emergency department with a fever and hypoxia, they would have worked him up for any garden variety pneumonia, bacterial or viral. Cultures would have been sent and imaging. Any young hypoxic patient would prompt a closer look at the chest. And no one waits that long to start antibiotics - “sepsis kills” is a slogan often used around hospitals. You have to initiate empirical therapy within 30 mins, to reduce mortality and morbiditiy.

Ordering an Echocardiogram (USS of the Heart) also makes no sense in the context of a lung infection. I would order one, but not to look at the lungs.

Then there’s the most unrealistic thing about this series. Doctors breaking into patient homes.

It is however, a good way to showcase social history. It’d be boring to watch a doctor ask the patient outright about their living situation etc, but it’s far more interesting to see exactly how they live. We try as much as possible to illustrate to each other and ourselves what the living environment and working environment of our patients are like.

In the context of infection, a good social history can point out exposure. As they exemplify by showing dead rodents and mould. This leads to 2 further differentials: Rat bite fever (caused by streptobacillus, something you’d see in the US, but probably not anywhere else), it’s an unrealistic differential in general. And the 2nd is aspergillosis. Okay.. So aspergillus is a mould commonly found in our environment. In fact it’s everywhere around us.

THere’s few times when it’s an issue. It is a concern in respiratory syndromes like asthma or bronchiectasis. And also as an opportunistic infection in immunocompromised individuals. in the context of asthma, it’s not so much the aspergillus itself that causes issue, it’s our body’s over reaction. It’s a hypersensitivity issue that causes inflammation in the lungs or a pneumonitis. We even gave it a name. Allergic bronchopulmonary aspergillosis. It’s still badness, but it doesn’t happen that quickly. We also have specific tests for this, which were obviously not considered in this episode of medicine done badly. In the immunocompromised host (steroid therapy in transplant patients or those on chemo, etc.), you can get the invasive mould as an opportunistic infection. I don’t really understand why they think it would be the case here. Also, killing the bug with heavy duty anti fungals will only give more issues rather than do anything. They start him on amphotericin. this is not standard practice. And now it flips to why amphotericin is not standard practice or first line treatment for invasive aspergillosis. The patient has now become anuric (not making any urine). (First line drug by the way is voraconazole, superior efficacy in trials with a lower mortality rate and ADRs) Also, note that they have just jumped straight to dire renal failure from the amphotericin. No work up. That said, heavy drugs like amphotericin are often a cause, but It’s often temporary with the appropriate supportive measures (stop insulting agents, give hydration, monitor fluid balance), reversible, even if you require temporary dialysis or haemofiltration. Anyways, would get into AKI another day, that’s a whole other post in and of itself. Then his hand is apparently “dying.” There’s pain on light touch, but it’s not a cold, pulseless limb. Or discoloured. doesn’t add up. This now enters vascular surgeon territory. Again. It’s interesting that there’s never any referrals to any other teams. If he has good circulation, I would imagine they would try to save the hand and consider other differentials.

The only time I can think of an emergency amputation in this situation is necrotising fascitiis. That’s the only thing that would occur that rapidly AND necessitate losing tissue or limb. With a young person who’s this ill, there’s often multiple subspecialties involved by this point. I’m also surprised he’s not in ICU.

Then there’s a buncha filler scenes of the cast of house getting emotional. Ho my god, they’ve taken the hand of a young 20 something physical labourer. Indeed, this is badness. Unlike House, we actually are trained to always consider how a patient’s illness impacts their activities of daily living and livelihood.

I find the general population assumes that we practice medicine in a vacuum, we merely treat the clinical illness and ignore everything else. They imagine that we all must be like house.

Actually we try to put things in perspective as much as possible and knowing our limitations in this area, we often enlist the help of friends - physiotherapists, occupational therapists and social workers. They never exist on TV or on the movies. Ever. Unless it’s to portray how terrible it is to be a social worker. From time to time in this episode, Cuddy laments that being chief of medicine is too administrative and she hasn’t been a doctor in years. That also doesn’t happen in real life. If you’re chief you’re still a doctor. You have admin shit to do deal with yes, but you still practice. It’s like being chief resident, in all the TV shows with one of these, you still seem them working as residents, be it scrubs or grey’s anatomy.

Back to the differential. They finally get to endocarditis. Culture negative to be precise. That indeed would explain the bilateral dusky fingers that led to unnecessary amputation. Septic emboli.

Going to stop here, more out of exhaustion now. I’ve created quite a lengthy post. Happy to reblog thoughts on culture negative endocarditis on request later. This is a worthy topic to study up on for students or residents. At least review Duke’s criteria and think about your clinical features like Roth Spots and Janeway lesions or Ouch Osler’s nodes.

The ending is also a far fetched connection to make, but is one that we would consider. In fact, we would ask in detail every time from day one - have you had any exposure to animals. It’s very rare to see someone so young be that sick out of the blue when you’re immunocompetent and have no underlying predisposing conditions. If there’s no focal source, then we would even ask about injectable recreational drugs, exotic travels, sexual health.

Most of the time, patients that sick are honest to their doctors.

But what about..

Frankly, much as we lie as humans, when our lives our on the line, we’re generally pretty honest (sometimes too honest) with the people we want to save us.

Any patient who is young and comes to hospital requiring inpatient admission, they’d be investigated by subspecialties with expertise in certain areas such as infectious disease. The dept of infectious disease would either be home team, or all over this patient as they special in the realm of both common and rare infectious diseases, culture negative endocarditis would have been considered before a hand amputation.

The term, “department of diagnostic medicine is laughable,” particularly when they consider it the only department in the world in the show.

In actuality, it’s a department that is universal and exists everywhere. it’s Internal medicine. Dr. Vivek Murthy, the next surgeon general (and also the last one under Obama) is an internal medicine physician. Ken Jeong of Community and the Hangover fame is also a physician of internal medicine.

Beginning to get the sense that most episodes are going to end with a diagnosis that is either infectious disease, rheumatology or haematology. But generally those tend to be most interesting and give the most plot twists or meaty differentials V.s. a stroke or acute myocardial infarction is fairly straightforward to diagnose.

This is a very twisty episode in all the wrong directions.

Dyspnoea is a very common presenting complaint. There’s a properly done approach to this in the podcast by the Curbsiders by the way.

#medblrs #medblr

22 notes · View notes

caroldantops · 3 years

Note

hey again! im the same confused anon who asked that how can i support writers here more just a while ago and i had two more guestions, hope you dont mind😅 so first how can i comment in the tags and like what they are? is that the place where i can be like 'hey this fic was great' or something like that. also can i just reblog a lot of the same writers fics if i like them or is it annoying like does the writer get a lot of notifications. sorry that im really confused and thank you for the long answer before!!

no problem! i understand the confusion, learning tumblr etiquette can be a little weird at first

the question about tags is below the cut bc it got long but as far as your other question, i don't think I've ever really seen any writers complain about people reblogging a bunch of their stuff at once! tumblr notifs arent super invasive in the way that like twitters are so i really dont notice them. plus there's no like algorithm that reblogging a bunch of fics from a writer in a row is gonna mess up.

i personally like to add fics i reblog to my queue if only so i can keep my reblogs a little more spread out so im not spamming my followers with a million fics at once when i clean out my likes!

i dont know exactly how much you know about tags so I'll give like a very brief rundown of like what they are/how to use them.

tags are basically tumblrs organization system. the way that they work like organize wise doesn't matter that much for this situation so i won't go into detail, but basically if i put stuff under the same tag, and you search the tag on my blog, everything that I've tagged with that phrase (like #fic) will show up (though tumblr does not always have stuff show up, but again, that's not relevant here)

the tags section is at the bottom of any post you reblog/write. basically, when i say that writers like to see comments in the tags, i just mean that any comment you have they can be written here, just as you would if you were to comment on the post itself!

i feel like that might sound weird to people who are less experienced with tumblr (i have almost a decade of experience under my belt) so let me kind of expand on that.

when you reblog a post, you can add whatever comments and post it. and then that post can be reblogged, and whoever reblogged it could just leave your comment there.

on the other hand, if you were to comment in the tags, and someone reblogs the post from you, your comments are going to stay on your blog on that post (unless someone like goes out of their way to copy/paste your tags, which i sometimes do with funny tags on my posts)

both are totally great options for commenting on fics you like. it 10000% is up to you, and you don't have to stick to one either! or you can even do both! i tend to usually stick my comments in the tags unless i have like a longer passage that i want to point out.

like this (from this fic)

tags are limited in characters so when i do have a longer comment, ill add it to the reblogs. but as you can see i also add my organizational tags, then i even have just more comments in the tags. because im annoying <3

why did no one tell me i said butt. instead of but. ok.

i hope i haven't over-explained anything. if there's something that's still confusing lmk!

basically the bottom line is that you can comment on the post itself or in the tags, it's all up to personal preference. writers read both!

#misc #reader advice #new tag new tag new tag #tumblr tags are such a unique thing to the site and part of why i like tumblr so much #but i guess i underestimate how much other people use them #because ive been using them for so many years #and theres definitely a reason why a lot of older tumblr members use them more #and thats because there used to be an obnoxious number of people who always added stuff to the reblogs so everyone had to see it #so people started encouraging everyone to leave their comments in the tags #of course now everyone can see tags on posts too so its very different now

3 notes · View notes

zombiebaratiddies · 3 years

Text

Post for my tags!

Heya! Here's a post for my tagging system. Some things may have confused u for what a tag means, so here!!

Oh i should note that most of my tags are commentary? Tho i'm... very confused as to why u followed me if u don't read my tags ^^;

Anywho!

For general posting!

"Reblog" - ok this one's p self-explanatory but it's what i tag the posts i reblog with! It's... a tad useless bc 95% of my blog is reblogging but! I've done it for so long it doesn't feel right to just stop dattebayo

"Reblog to spread the word" - these are mainly used on informative posts? But can also be used on posts that are like "hey i hope u have a good day today and u deserve good things" bc i feel that way abt nyall :> oh and it can also b used as a tag for things that are too light-hearted to put in save a life!

"Reblog to save a life" - thsse are posts w p heavy topics! Donation posts also fall into this category bc i kno they can make some feel guilty as they can't donate, n i wanted to put that stuff into a neat lil tag.

"Spread them commissions like butter on bread" - my commissions tag! I rb a lot of commission posts, so if u ever feel generous n donate some muns, then hop into that tag or save a life to find some peeps to throw ur money at!!

"Long Post" - i don't use this one often but i use it for posts that require me to lazily scroll 2+ times to get to the bottom of it! For conveniency, if peeps don't wanna open that can of worms. Oh, and this one can be requested to add to a post! Not sure if i ever said that ('v')b

"The Habby Place" - this used to be called "Happy Vibes", but I changed it to the habby place! There are still some posts tagged as the latter so im sure if u searched that u could find some more, but this is my positivity tag! Posts to look at when ur feelin down abt smth n just wanna look at cute animals or validating posts :D

For friends!

"Okaeri!" - this is my tag for my very poggers friend, franiel!! It's the romanized version of the japanese phrase, "Welcome back!" as their url used to be maidsonas (n maids normally say "welcome back!" to regulars, from what im gatherin)

"Extra! Extra!" - the tag I use for my very good best friend johnny! I kno xem for being into newsies, so i thought abt that n the song Hush Hush Magazine - Tape Five popped up. it's heard in the background of the pre-chorus!

"Zeus' Horny Mistake" - the tag i use for my very good older bro lyle!! U probs won't see this tag much bc i normally use the people tags for like. Posts he made, BUT. i wanted to include it anyways >:)

"J'adore les étoiles" - the tag I use for my very good best friend Air! J'adore les étoiles translate to "I love the stars", which is a song by The Orion Experience (where the line comes from). They also go by Star, which is why I thought of it! Normally used when they send me posts

"Jus a swarm of bees :>" - the tag I use for my very good best friend Bee!! Tbh i was tryin to think of smth more witty when coming up for a tag but that.. was what stuck? So i stuck w it!!

For personal posts!

"Zombie Murmurs" - speaking of posts made by OP, this is my tag for posts i made! You know, like this one ajfjsjf to me it makes sense both as a brian monster prom kinnie (where i get my name from) n also w my url so >:3

"Ask me Anything!" - a tag i use for ask games and when i receive asks! (Very rare lmao)

"Tag You're It" - the tag i use for posts that are like "put your experiences w this thing in the tags" n stuff. If u kno the reference to the tag no u don't ♡ /j

For fandoms!

If i recall, most of them just have the name of the fandom but i kno there are exceptions!! Ill update this as i remember them (like w the other tags too)

Tho i will say that i do put "[series] spoilers" at the end of things often if it's specific so keep that in mind ('v')b

"Leg" - The Legend of Zelda series! Referencing a tumblr post where peeps were editing the cover of Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild to say things like "Legend of Zegend: Breath of the Weath" to which it got to just "Leg".

"Ryu ga Gotoku" - would u believe me if i said that i made this entire post just to use this point sjfjskf but yaya!! I'm gonna b using this title for the Yakuza game series as i feel it's gonna become a Big interest of mine as time goes on skfjsjf

(Note: I moved most of my ykz content over to my hyperfix sideblog, majimasteeth!)

"Phoenix Wright" - the tag I use for the Ace Attorney series! ... even though ace attorney works just as well - i think phoenix wright: ace attorney first so it's been that tag 😔 thoughhh i have a bad memory so i may switch between that one and "Ace Attorney". I'm sure u can find some content in both tags

A rulla thumb i go by is that I put game content on this blog n anime content on gayhatokareshi! Hyperfixes go on majimasteeth, and the url/theme will prolly change dependin on the hyperfix(es). Currently, my hyperfixes are: Genshin Impact, Ryu ga Gotoku, and The Magnus Archives. I'll prolly post stuff there when someone sends posts to me, but!! Yaya

#anywho i'll add more to this when i remember more #oh and since this is my pinned post; hiya!#name's brian thorne :3 im 18 n the host of the constellation prize #i casually talk abt my did from time to time but i sure do have it! even tho i don't think they rlly go onto here #the others are Elias (25) Aries (23) Hisoka (like the hxh clown; 27) andd crem (1 i think?? she's a bunny)#they can introduce themselves when they feel like it!! jus wanted to name drop in case u hear me talkin bout one of them ('v')b #Zombie Murmurs #Long Post

28 notes · View notes

alottanothing · 4 years

Text

Left to Ruin Chapter Seven

Summary: Nouke and her family struggle with life in exile. When her mother show’s signs of falling ill, Nouke tries to find away to save her.

Previous Chapters

Word Count: 4087

Warnings: None

Tag List: @xmxisxforxmaybe, @r-ahh-mi, @theultraviolencefan, @hah0106, @rami-malek-trash, @diasimar, @sherlollydramoine, @flipper-kisses, @ivy-miranda-2390, @txmel, @sunkissedmikky, @concentratedsassandcandy, @babyalienfairy, @edteche2 (Let me know if I missed you, or if you would like to be added to the tag list)

A/N: Alrighty, so timeline wise, by the end of this one we are caught up to where Ahk was the last we saw him in chapter 5 (about a week or two after he’s sent all of his potential brides away)–hopefully that’s not confusing. And as always thank you for your comments, likes and reblogs of last chapter! Also, a couple of you have messaged me about the moodboards and you have no idea how happy those messages made me. I’m so glad you’re enjoying the story, and the totally self-indulgent moodboards. I welcome messages like that! 🥰 You guys rock! Once again as a disclaimer, I am not an ancient Egyptian expert and google only knows so much. So yeah, I took so historical liberties while writing this to make my life easier, but tried to keep it as “authentic” as possible

Years spent among the common people—hours spent cultivating land—was no better, nor was it worse than Nouke thought it would be. There was no extravagance; every day was the same as the last, and the labor was the hardest she ever recalled doing. Each night her body ached, her skin grew rough with callouses and darker from the unyielding sun. And despite it, Nouke felt there was a sense of dignity to all that her family did on their farm. Every effort made was to better themselves versus a lifetime of work to better someone else. Mornings were early and the work was hard, but it could have been worse.

She still had her mother and her father—her life—despite the toil they all had suffered. All things considered, everything lost or gained; it was her family that mattered the most to her, and she still had them.

Nouke thrived on that routine and for five years life was truly blissful.

The workday was drawing to a close, Nouke could tell by the dull ache beginning to settle in her feet and back. It had been abnormally hot, and her skin was sticky from hours of sweat creating a protective film over her flesh. She wanted nothing more than to wash up for the evening and rest.

She and the two stable boys were finishing up with the livestock in the lower part of their dwelling when a cry came from out in the field. Immediately, Nouke dropped her sack of feed and ran to investigate, finding her father doubled over and clutching his abdomen in pain. Nouke gasped and ran to his side.

“Father!” Concern rapidly contorted her face as she knelt beside him, cradling his head as he writhed, the shock forcing her into a momentary state of paralysis. “What’s wrong?”

The strain on his face was evidence enough for her to know he was in pain. She watched helplessly as Ramentukah opened his mouth to speak, only for strangled grunts to form in place of his words.

Worry settled deeper, and suddenly her own aches were forgotten. Nouke called for the farmhands to help her father up the stairs and inside. They were quick and strong, easily positioning themselves to support her father's weight.

“Thank you,” her father choked out, doing his best to walk with them.

Nouke helped guide them as best she could, scaling the staircase backward skillfully, shouting for her mother.

“I’m fine, Nouke,” Ramentukah assured her with a weak smile.

She could still see the pain in his features, and it made her own concern even more apparent.

“What happened?” her mother spoke, her expression a mirrored image of her daughters concern.

“He fell over. He’s in pain mother,” Nouke told her.

Maketatan rushed to help guide her husband into the room where the three of them slept on separate mats, gently laying Ramentukah on his. She never strayed from his side, lulling him and brushing the rough strands of hair from his face with one hand as she held his in her other.

Nouke dismissed the boys back to their chores and thanked them for helping. She lingered in the doorway for a moment, feeling somewhat helpless as she watched her mother fuss over her father. She could feel the onslaught of tears beginning to brew behind her eyes, but she held them back, taking a moment to steady her composure.

“We need to get him to a healer,” she said softly, stepping into the room.

Maketaten nodded, but frowned, “We don’t have money for a healer.”

“What about the money we’ve put away?”

“Not enough.”

Nouke’s frown fell deeper as she searched her mind for a way to help her father.

“Some of the crop will be ready for the market come the week's end,” she stated. “Perhaps that will bring in enough to add to what’s been putting away?”

On a good day, they made a significant sum at the market—which alone could help buy her father the care he obviously required. But that was only if they could sell every bushel for the price they asked. Most people liked to barter lower.

After a moment of thought, her mother nodded.

“It could be enough,” she said, still sounding unsure.

Maketaten’s focus fell from her daughter to her husband as she dabbed at the droplets of sweat dotting his forehead with a piece of clean linen. Even through his pain, Ramentukah held his wife in his gaze, as though she were the only person in the world—a creature of astounding beauty. And her mother looked at him much the same.

Nouke watched them quietly, the love and admiration radiating from them filling the small space with warmth as well as a sadness that made her heart heavy.

“Hold on, my love,” Maketaten murmured, kissing the back of her husband’s hand. “You mustn’t leave me yet. I will not let the gods take you.”

A soft, strained chuckle rasped past Ramentukah’s lips as he smiled up at his wife, bringing her hand closer so he could lay a kiss to it.

“I could never, truly, leave you,” he rasped.

Tears welled in Nouke's eyes, overcome with the radiance of their love, suddenly feeling as though she was imposing. She left her parents in search of distraction, letting them have that moment to themselves. Her feet carried her back outside and down into the stable, though she could hardly recall the journey. There was so much to be done still, yet the knots in her stomach kept her mind from focusing on much else. Mechanically, she picked up the sack of feed she’d abandoned and willed herself not to think about whatever malady had stricken her father.

Three days—She reminded herself as she worked. Three days of heavy routine, a trip to the market and back. Three days and she could get her father the help he needed. Just three.

It was the longest three days of Nouke’s life; every moment spent hanging by a thread. Never had she worked so hard towards a goal that never came to pass.

At dawn on the third day, before she’d woken to ready the cart to take to market, Nouke was pulled from her sleep by the sounds of her mothers crying. An emptiness fought to consume her when she heard those sobs; she knew what they meant. Her father passed in his sleep, holding his wife’s hand.

Nouke laid frozen with grief, shedding silent tears until bottling up the raging emotion to be expressed later. She needed to be strong; her mother’s grief would be worse than her own. Maketaten's love for her husband had the potential to destroy her upon his death—Nouke couldn’t let that happen. Such a notion made Nouke wonder if loving someone so deeply was worth the inevitable heartache—would she ever know? She hoped so. Her mother and father were so happy together.

Maketaten refused to let go of her husband's hand for hours despite all of her daughter's gentle coaxing. Her mother’s devastation was even worse than she would have imagined.

“Okay…” Nouke conceded easily, kissing her mother on the temple before she stood.

A sharp pang of woe stabbed into her as she took in the picture of her mother and father. The sight made her heart break even more, and she wasn’t sure if it was due to the loss her mother was feeling or her own. Nevertheless, tears started to breach the cold façade she’d built to guard her mother as she realized the money they’d saved would now be needed to cover a modest burial, and Nouke would have to see to it all. Her mother was not strong enough with grief crippling her to organize such formalities.

On the day Ramentukah was laid to rest, Nouke was certain she had never seen someone more inconsolable then her mother. The priest did little more than utter one or two blessings; her father’s coffin was a simple wooden box that she herself painted with blessings to see him into the afterlife. The farmhands dug the plot themselves, and they helped to lay her father in the ground where his body would remain for the rest of time.

It was simple and somber, and not nearly enough for a great man like her father. However, Nouke also knew that Ramentukah would be happy to rest on the farm he had built for them—with his family forever until they joined him in death. And that notion was enough.

In a matter of days, the routine Nouke had come to master significantly shifted. With their money all but spent, they had to dismiss the farmhands in their employ, unable to provide for them as well as herself and her mother. Nouke could only devote so much time to the land to make a truly lucrative harvest; her mother needed her care. And while her mother did her best to assist in the field with chores, it was simply too much for her to keep up with.

Maketaten’s spirit was amiss, and Nouke could not bring herself to lay blame upon her. She had to be strong for her mother. Not once in those initial months following her father’s death did Nouke ever let on how much her bottled-up stress and grief was ripping away at her from the inside—screaming to be set free. Nouke knew if she let her mother see her break, Maketaten would slip back into the void she was trying desperately to climb out of. She refused to be the reason her mother suffered any more pain.

Her only release came when the sky was as black as the emptiness her father’s death had left, and after her mother was sleeping. Nightfall was when Nouke could sneak away to the rooftop of their home and nestle herself among the makeshift bedding, clutching cushions to her chest as she let her emotions spill until her eyes were bloodshot and every last nerve in her body was frayed.

It took years before life started to resemble a fraction of what they’d once had. Time, Nouke feared, would never truly heal the pain her mother endured, but as the seasons passed, Maketaten’s grief let go of more of her.

The farm survived too, be it out of Nouke’s own stubbornness to not let it fail after the work her father had put into it, or simply the fear of what would become of she and her mother if they lost anymore. It was a strenuous undertaking for only the two of them, but Nouke knew there were few choices.

“Maybe it’s time I marry…” Nouke thought aloud as she and her mother were finishing up their work in the stable.

Her own face twisted, the taste of her words sour. The notion was not a sudden revelation; it was something Nouke had sacrificed many nights of sleep to mull over. Marriage offered stability as well as another hand to help: more crops meant more income. It seemed such an easy and logical solution to their struggles, but it remained the most daunting.

There’d been a few men who’d taken a fancy to her and come calling. Both were farmers—able men who would take easily to the work the farm required. But they lacked something that Nouke could never place each time she was with them; they had no spark, and she doubted she could live happily with someone like that.

Maketaten cast her daughter a look of disbelief, mouth popping open, as though she wanted to rebuttal but couldn’t find the words.

Nouke ignored her mother’s shock and continued her reasoning, unsure if it was for her mother’s benefit or her own.

“We could use another hand, mother. And we can’t afford to pay anyone.”

A series of emotions drifted onto her mother’s face, each one turning her lips into a deeper, more shameful frown.

“I am sorry I am not more help, Nouke.”

“That’s not what—” Nouke sighed, immediately regretting having brought up the topic. “It’s not that you haven’t been a help—you have. We need stability. We are barely getting by.”

Maketaten sighed too, her expression one of sorrow.

“It was never your father and I’s wish to marry you off for the prospect of stability—stability is built, not bought.” Her expression softened, and Nouke could almost see her mother slipping into a fond memory before she spoke again.

“I, unlike so many others, was promised to no one. I met your father, and we fell in love. Only with love can one truly prosper.”

Nouke felt a tug on her heartstrings seeing the wistful expression take hold of her mother. It was so close to an air of happiness that she didn’t dare interrupt it. Instead, she watched the memories drifting in her mother’s eyes: memories of her husband, the love and light of her life.

She wanted that for herself, as greedy as perhaps it was. The devotion and adoration she’d witnessed all her life was something she craved to hold. However, the gods had a habit of destroying every dream she’d ever wanted for herself.

“Mother…” Nouke choked out softly, suddenly overwhelmed with a sadness she was unsure of.

There were tears shimmering in her mother’s eyes when she met them, tears, and resoluteness that Nouke had not seen in a long time.

“No, Nouke,” she said adamantly. “I will not see you live even more miserably. This world has already taken so much from you…”

Her mother’s words stilled her, and she knew then there would be no sense in arguing. Nouke responded with a sad smile; her words lost amidst the mess of thoughts in her head.

A silence fell between them as they tended to the rest of their chores. Nouke did her best to push her focus on her work, wanting it to consume her, afraid her thoughts would stray to the piles of things she’d fought for years to forget.

Night was falling when their work was done and Nouke followed her mother up the stairs, her mother’s steps growing more labored near the top until she began to fall. Nouke quickly braced and caught her, helping her mother stabilize on the stone railing.

“Are you alright?” Nouke asked, concern evident in her tone.

Maketaten chuckled lightly.

“Just a little dizzy from a day in the heat,” she reassured her daughter.

Nouke led her mother to a stool in the common area of their home, skeptical about her mother’s reasoning. An irritating twinge of panic began twisting familiar knots into her stomach as her mind filled with images of her father collapsed in the field.

“Does this happen…often?” Nouke asked, unable to mask the crack in her voice.

Her mother shrugged, “Only recently.”

Nouke’s panic settled deeper, knot's tightening.

“I’m not young anymore. I assure you; I am fine.” Maketaten’s voice was calm and exuded assurance, but Nouke didn’t miss the faint glimmer of fear in her eyes.

That restrained fear was enough to tie a knot in Nouke’s throat she tried to swallow before it drew tears to her eyes. She could gauge her own expression from the one her mother held, knowing that her own fear was rapidly taking shape on her features.

“Maybe…” Nouke said as softly as she could. “You should see a healer.”

Maketaten reached to caress her daughter's face, smiling gently.

“My sweet girl. You are full of worry…” she spoke, tracing the lines on her daughter's face, looking sad. “I will be fine.”

Nouke cupped her hand over her mother’s and held it to her face, relishing in the warmth her touch offered.

“I cannot lose you, mother.”

Maketaten placed a lingering kiss to Nouke’s forehead.

“I’m tired. It’s time I rest. Goodnight.” Her mother said, without more to say about her supposed sickness.

“Goodnight.”

Nouke watched her go, allowing her fear to settle in a room by herself. Her father was taken too suddenly for them to remedy whatever it was that ailed him. She would not let the same fate befall her mother. She didn’t know if she had the strength to lose everyone she loved.

During the week that followed, Nouke’s concern took root in her stomach a little deeper as every day slipped by balefully to remind her that time was working against her. And while her mother didn’t seem to be in any pain, the knots in her stomach wound tighter with the sense something was not right. Meals went uneaten and the labor it took her to do the simplest of the chores was evidence of her failing health.

Every passing moment felt more critical than the last, dread an ever-present cloud in her thoughts bringing with it the fear of waking to find her mother had passed in the night. The notion ate away at her night after night, keeping her from sleep before, finally, Nouke couldn’t waste another minute—she had to try something.

It was late afternoon when Nouke ventured into the market while her mother rested. The familiar thrum instilled her with a much-needed boost to keep her head focused on her task. She knew of two people who could help her if they were feeling kind: one took patients and both sold vials of curatives. The jingling of coins in the bag tied at her hip, and the sack of fresh harvestables slung over her shoulder, reminded her that she had little to offer for services—a few coins and the best bushels from their farm.

In her heart, she knew that wouldn’t be enough, but she kept walking with her chin up.

The market was busy for the lateness of the hour, the glow of lamps and torches lighting the shadowy streets. Nouke maneuvered through the hordes of people with practiced agility, making her way to the first stall, going over what she was to say silently in her head.

He was a younger man, older than herself, dressed fashionably in robes of finer linen indicating that he was skilled in his profession. The man was carefully packing up his stall, ready to turn in for the night when Nouke approached.

“May I ask you a few questions?” Her heart was beating in her throat.

The healer turned and glanced at her with a raised brow and a smug curl on his lips.

“You may,” he said, his beady eyes looking her up and down several times, before deciding that she was worth his time.

“My mother is sick—though she won’t admit it. Would you be willing to—”

The man held up his hand to silence her, looking disinterested.

“Payment,” he demanded holding out his hand.

Nouke swallowed and glanced at the small coin purse on her hip, and the sack of goods she’d brought. Before she even worked the satchel of harvestables from her shoulder, the man scoffed with a mirthless chortle.

“No,” he told her.

“Please?” Nouke reached for the purse of coins, spilling them into her palm. “This is all I have.”

“All you have is not enough,” he scoffed, turning to pack up the rest of his market stall.

Any other day, Nouke would have acted on his slight, letting him know the gods would not take kindly to his cruel heart, but she was exhausted from her ceaseless worry. Instead, she sighed a wrothful puff, accompanying it with a scowl she hoped conveyed the level of insult she felt.

The next man was much older and adorned like most of the other merchants: as common as she. When he welcomed her into his stall with a kind smile, Nouke found herself smiling back in relief.

“What can I help you with?” he asked in a warm voice that was a stark contrast to the last man she had spoken to.

“My mother is sick,”

“What signs of malady does she show?” he asked with genuine curiosity.

“Um, weakness, no appetite, fatigue—I don’t know of any pain.” Nouke swallowed, throwing another mournful look at the payment she had to offer. “I don’t have much in return for your services, but it’s all I have. Will you help me?”

The man looked at her with a sad, apologetic smile.

“I am no healer, child.” He confessed. “I sell ointments for skin, burned from long hours in the sun, honey’s that help heal cuts. I know not what ails your mother. I sincerely wish I could help you, but I cannot provide the remedies you seek.”

Nouke’s entire body wilted under the weight of defeat.

“Thank you,” she murmured, offering the man her coin purse as payment for his time. “Sorry to have troubled you.”

“No, no,” he declined waving his hands. “Save it to help your mother.”

Nouke gave the man a warm smile and thanked him again.

The walk back to her farm seemed longer somehow, made that way by the weight of defeat she carried with her. Maketaten was sleeping when Nouke returned, venturing into their shared room to be sure she had not suffered the same fate as her husband. A tiny wave of relief washed over her when she heard her mother's soft snores, and the sound coaxed the ghost of a smile to tint her features.

Nouke didn’t even try to go to sleep that night; the grace of deep, dreamless slumber was elusive. When she did find sleep her mind was plagued with memories that soured into nightmares. Most nights, though, she spent staring at the ceiling. The day had brought only more worry, which left her mind too preoccupied for the wish of restfulness. Nouke instead took refuge on the roof.

Tears brimmed her eyes the moment she nestled herself in her makeshift nest, feeling the full weight of fate upon her. She sat with her knees pulled to her chest, hugging them, feeling as though she was going to burst if she didn’t keep herself wound tight. For the first time in a long time, Nouke let herself drown in the sea of emotions she’d kept at bay longer than she wanted to admit. She cried until her head ached and throbbed with every beat of her breaking heart; until her tears ran dry leaving only soft whimpers. She knew sulking would get her nowhere but releasing all that pent-up turmoil cleared her head, and Nouke felt a sense of calm letting go of so much.

As the tears dried on her cheeks, the pulsing slowed enough to let her mind focus on a new plan to find a solution for her mother’s ailment. It would be months before most of the crops could be harvested to make any substantial profit, and as much as it pained her to think, Nouke knew her mother could not spare that kind of time.

She sighed, trying to fight off another wave of defeat from pulling her back under the water, the heel of her hands rubbing her swollen eyes. When her vision adjusted, her focus settled on the distant horizon, and a glint caught her eye: the pharaoh’s palace was shinning like a beacon in the distance.

“Ahk…” she whispered breathlessly, feeling her heart flutter at the sound of his name falling easily from her tongue.

All at once, her mind flooded with the memories she’d locked away to keep from missing him. His kindness filled every trace of those memories, feeding her waves of foolish hope. Ahk would have healers and priests waiting to serve him, but he was pharaoh. The title loomed like a dark cloud to cast a shadow over the sweet prince she remembered. Power had a funny way of spoiling kindness. If his crown had not tainted him, he would help her—she knew he would.

Even getting inside the palace wouldn’t be difficult if the garden wall still held the passageway she’d found in her youth. All that was stopping her was Kahmunrah’s warning. If he or his guard recognized her, that would be the end. The thought should have frightened her more than it did, but the threat of her own death didn’t seem so daunting if it meant she could save her mother.

As long as she could avoid Kahmunrah and find Ahk, there was hope something good could come from such a foolish decision.

Next Chapter-> Chapter Eight: The Boy From the Palace

#Ahkmenrah #Ahkmenrah x Original Character #Ahkmenrah Fanfiction #NATM #NATM Fanfiction #Left to Ruin #Rami Malek Character #Rami Malek Character Fanfiction #Rami Malek Fanfiction #Rami Malek

33 notes · View notes

thirteen-beaxhes · 5 years

Text

You and Me (Tyrus Post Finale One-Shot)

Summary: "There was nothing Cyrus could have wanted more, knowing that for the first time, there was a boy who actually liked him back, who felt the same. Or so he thought then." It's the Monday after that fateful party, and Cyrus is confused.

Words: 2386

AO3 LINK IN REBLOG

“Is there anything else you wanna tell me?”

“Yeah. Is, there anything you wanna tell me?”

“Yes.”

Cyrus slammed his locker door shut, promptly breaking the dialogue that had been repeating in his head since the night of Andi’s Epic Party 2.0, when he and TJ were sitting by the fire on the bench, when in the middle of all the noise and music and people, they held each other’s hands, a weight let off their shoulders.

Or so he thought then.

Cyrus held his bag strap, walking down the hallway to class as he held his books to his chest, still deep in thought. After the party that Friday, they had texted all weekend, everything seemingly back to normal, just slightly more flirty and bold than either of them had been before. And that wasn’t bad at all, in fact every time Cyrus saw a text notification from TJ, his heart would soar, and he couldn’t control a smile from spreading across his face as he hastily typed out a reply. Over the weekend, as they texted from the comfort of their homes, a screen between them, everything was perfect. There was nothing Cyrus could have wanted more, knowing that for the first time, there was a boy who actually liked him back, who felt the same.

But, behind a screen everything seemed easy. Walking into school, however, with the chance of seeing TJ in person, even talking to him, sent Cyrus’ heart racing in a way that wasn’t what it should have felt like. Because at the end of the day, TJ had walked into the party with Kira, hugging her and walking with her and staying with her until her abrupt departure. Whatever that meant. But he was with her, and then he was with Cyrus, holding his hand and looking at him like that. Could anyone blame him for being absolutely confused?

Not to add to the fact that after witnessing everything that had happened between Jonah and Andi in 7th Grade, Cyrus was worried that if he were to walk up to TJ in school and try to call him anything more than a friend, and if he tried to hold his hand, it wouldn’t be real. Because if Jonah and Andi’s relationship trials and tribulations had taught him anything, it was that a handhold could mean anything.

“Earth to Cyrus?” Buffy said, snapping her fingers in front of his face, bringing him out of his thoughts. He smiled and nodded his head at her.

“Hey Buffy, you seem chipper today,” Cyrus noted, narrowing his eyes at his friend’s bright smile.

“What? Me? You’re kidding,” she said, scoffing, but Cyrus just stared at her pointedly until she sighed. “I’m sorry it’s just, I’m excited to see Marty today.”

As if he were summoned by the calling of his name, Marty walked up the two of them, holding his bag straps as he smirked at Buffy. “Hey there, Driscoll.”

“Hi Marty,” Buffy replied with a smirk, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulder, walking on her other side.

“Wow, I love being acknowledged,” Cyrus said with a deadpanned voice, and Buffy snorted loudly.

“Cyrus! My man!” Marty called out, giving Cyrus a high five. He turned back to Buffy with a smirk. “So, how’s the most amazing person in the world doing?”

“She’s doing great, thank you.”

“Wait, Buffy, you’re supposed to say ‘I don’t know how are you doing?’ “

“Why? I am the most amazing person,” Buffy said, earning a shove from Marty as they continued down the hall.

Cyrus just looked over at the two, happy that they had finally, after everything, had gotten together, except that meant even more competitive banter and flirting, which no one was prepared for. But, he also couldn’t help but feel his heart sink as he looked at them. It had been no question that they were together after the party. It was so easy. Why was he still confused?

“Cyrus? Is everything okay?” Buffy asked, grabbing his shoulder to stop him from walking.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” Cyrus said rather unconvincingly. Buffy sighed and looked over at Marty.

“I’ll meet you at lunch okay?” she said, and Marty got the hint, pressing a kiss to Buffy’s forehead before walking ahead. After he was out of earshot, Buffy linked her arm with Cyrus’ and pulled him to the side.

“Now will you tell me?”

Cyrus sighed, looking at the ground before starting. “At the party, when I had gone out for a while, I was with TJ by the campfire. We were talking and, we uh, we had a moment.”

“Cyrus,” Buffy said softly, a smile on her face. “That’s amazing! What happened?” she asked, an eager grin on her face.

Cyrus laughed quietly. “We held hands for a while before he got a call from his mom that he had to go home.”

Buffy squealed loudly, earning glares from people all around, but she didn’t find it in her to care. “Oh my God that is adorable!” she exclaimed, but soon her smile fell. “Wait, but. Why are you sad?”

Cyrus looked back down. “Because, he walked into the party with Kira, and you and I both know a handhold can mean anything. What if, I’m just convincing myself that there is something, when really we’re nothing at all?”

“Cyrus,” Buffy said softly, grabbing his shoulders. “You’ve always had a problem overthinking things. That’s all this is. But, if you are so unsure, you should talk to him. For all you know, he’s out there somewhere, ranting to Jonah or Andi about how he thinks that there may be nothing between you guys.”

Cyrus looked up at Buffy and smiled, pulling her in for a hug. “Thanks, Buffy. You’re right, I should talk to him,” he agreed, but was cut short by the loud trilling sound of the school bell. “But after class.”

TJ: ill be at swings then <3

Cyrus pocketed his phone, not before gushing internally at the heart TJ had sent, before trudging in the direction of the park. To be honest, a part of him still hurt to walk there, to go to the swings, the memory of TJ and Kira laughing and having fun still in his mind, trying desperately to claw into him. He tried to push it away but it wouldn’t budge, not one bit.

As he neared the playground, Cyrus spotted a figure sitting on one of the swings, swaying slightly. He smiled and jogged up to him, knowing exactly who it was.

“Is that swing taken?” Cyrus said as he approached the swings, and TJ turned around, a bright smile on his face.

“Only by you,” he said, gesturing to the seat. Cyrus smiled and sat down on the swing, the nervousness returning slightly as he remembered what he needed to say.

“How was your day?” he asked instead, trying to give himself time to think.

TJ just shrugged. “Just a normal day I guess. Kinda disappointing, was hoping I’d meet someone,” he said, smirking slightly.

Cyrus felt his cheeks grow warm as he raised an eyebrow. “Oh really?”

TJ just chuckled, looking up at Cyrus as his smile softened. “Seriously though. Where were you all day? I didn’t see you anywhere.”

“Oh you know, just busy, like, people to see and help and stuff ya know,” Cyrus said, trying to be causal, but he knew from the way that TJ’s smile dropped that he had not been the least bit convincing. So he shook his head, looking down as he dug into the ground with the tip of his shoe. “Sorry, it’s just.”

“Is this about what happened at Andi’s party?” TJ cut in, his voice quiet and shaky. Cyrus looked up, meeting his eye and slowly nodded.

TJ sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I shouldn’t have done that,” he said in a voice barely louder than a whisper. “I, I’m so sorry.”

“No, no,” Cyrus said quickly, reaching across the swings to grab TJ’s hand. “That’s not what I meant. I am so glad it happened.”

TJ looked down at his hand, before looking back up at Cyrus, eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “You, you are?”

“Yes,” Cyrus said, his voice cracking. “So much so that sometimes I can’t believe it actually happened.”

TJ let out a short laugh. “Me neither. I feel like I need to pinch myself every time I think about it.”

Cyrus laughed, looking down. But his smile dropped slightly. “But, it’s more me being confused.”

“About what?”

“Well, us. From someone who has witnessed the highs and lows of relationships, hand-holding can mean anything.”

TJ nodded, looking down. Cyrus looked at him intently, before looking back down at the ground.

“Also, you did walk into the party with Kira.”

At that, TJ let out a sigh, and he let go of Cyrus’ hand, grabbing the chain of the swing. “Yeah, I get it’s confusing Cyrus. But I can explain.”

“So go ahead,” Cyrus said, giving him a small smile of encouragement. TJ looked up at Cyrus and nodded, as if he were steadying his resolve.

“Remember Costume Day?”

Cyrus scoffed, looking down. “I don’t think it could be clearer at times.”

TJ drew a shaky breath and looked ahead. “Well, the day before, Kira walked up to me asking me to do a costume with her. But I told her twice that I was doing it with you. But then, she said something weird. Like, ‘So you’d rather do a costume with Cyrus than with me?’ and then just walked away. But as she left I, I felt weird, like she was saying she knew something, something I wasn’t ready for people to know.”

“TJ,” Cyrus whispered, realisation dawning on him. But TJ didn’t hear him.

“I got scared, Cy. Really scared. So I just went along with her costume, even though it killed me to see your face. And I’m so so sorry for that,” he said, finally looking at Cyrus.

“It’s okay TJ, at least I know now,” Cyrus replied, giving him a small smile.

TJ looked back ahead. “After that day, she just came up to me all the time. And soon enough, I found out we had things in common. So hanging out with her didn’t feel too bad. It felt like a lot of it was her betting me I couldn’t do things, so I’d do them. But I didn’t really notice. But one thing I did notice was how much I missed you,” TJ said, sighing. “That’s why I wanted you to hang out with me and Kira. I missed hanging out like we used to, so I thought that we three could hang out.”

“That worked out well,” Cyrus said, and TJ laughed quietly.

“Not my best suggestion in hindsight.”

“Agreed on that,” Cyrus said, but he turned back to TJ. “But then what happened at the party for you to say she isn’t a nice person?”

“Um,” TJ muttered, scratching the inside of his thumb. “She, um, she said something about you.”

“What?” Cyrus said incredulously, turning to look at TJ.

“Well, not said. Okay,” TJ fumbled, squeezing his eyes shut. “You guys were all dancing and Kira and I were standing at the side. Then, she looked over at you and began laughing at your dancing.”

“Well, I don’t blame her,” Cyrus said, smirking, and TJ playfully punched him in the shoulder.

“I don’t know, I just couldn’t bear it. So I snapped at her.”

“You defended me?”

“Bold of you to assume it was the first time.”

Cyrus smiled, looking at TJ curiously, who was purposely avoiding eye contact, his cheeks pink.

“Anyway,” TJ said, his smile dropping. “She said that what it was really about was if she were to make me pick between you and her, I’d pick you. And that’s when it hit me that she had been trying to make me do that for a while.”

“What?” Cyrus asked, narrowing his eyes. TJ looked up at the sky before looking at Cyrus.

“She tried to make me pick between you two. And I couldn’t understand why she was doing that. Because you never made me pick,” TJ said quietly, looking up shyly. “That was that, she just walked away. And just like that, she was gone.”

“Whoa,” was all Cyrus could manage.

“Yeah,” TJ said with a sigh, looking down.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“No, I’m the one that should be sorry Cyrus,” TJ said, looking over at him. “I made everything confusing.”

“Well, you and me both. My overthinking did a lot of the heavy lifting,” Cyrus replied, smirking slightly.

TJ laughed, reaching over to grab Cyrus’ hand. “But, what happened later, on the bench?” he said, looking up him, gulping nervously. “I wanted to tell you that-”

“Me too,” Cyrus said softly, moving his hand to interlock their fingers. TJ looked down at their hands, and looked back up at Cyrus, a bright, relieved smile on his face.

“So,” TJ said, after a while, swinging slightly, his and Cyrus’ hand in between their two swings. “What does this mean for us?”

Cyrus shrugged, looking at TJ. “I have no idea. This has never happened before.”

“Yeah,” TJ said, his word more an exhale.

“How about,” Cyrus started slowly, moving to interlock their pinkies, something that made TJ smile, his cheeks red, just like Cyrus’ were. “We take it slow then?”

“Slow sounds perfect,” TJ said, nodding.

“Slow it is then,” Cyrus said, and he and TJ sat on the swings for a while after that, talking about everything and nothing at the same time, all the while their hands holding each other in between the two swings.

As the evening grew darker, Cyrus sighed, pushing himself off the swing. “I should probably get home.”

“Me too,” TJ said, getting up, scratching the back of his ear. “Hey Cy, do you, uh wanna go to the Spoon after school tomorrow?”

Cyrus smiled, hopping on the balls of his feet. “Like on a date?”

“Yeah,” TJ said, twiddling his thumbs nervously.

To answer him, Cyrus leaned forward and lightly kissed TJ’s cheek, eliciting giggles from the both of them.

“I’d love to.”

~~~~~~

this SUCKS

Taglist for everything: @imhereforthetryus

#andi mack #tyrus #my fic #muffy #cyrus goodman #tj kippen #buffy driscoll #Marty from the party #tj x cyrus #tyrus fanfic #tyrus fanfiction #post finale

368 notes · View notes

lucacangettathisass · 4 years

Text

how the light gets in (ch. 8)

SUMMARY: After your home is ransacked by a group of strange men, you and your cousin are taken in by a group of outlaws. And that’s when the trouble really starts.

PAIRINGS: John Marston x Fem!Reader, Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader

ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, FIVE, SIX, SEVEN

TAGGING: @mountainhymn if you would like to be added to the tag list just lmk!

NOTES: so sorry for the slow update! ive been doing some full on hours at work (my manager literally told me that im doing full time hours despite being part time lmao rip) so that’s been leaving me a little drained lmao but hey at least we got there!

more mentions of low self esteem, those are gonna be a lot more prevalent from here on out actually.

on another note, i’ve been wondering if i should rewrite this as an oc fic rather than a reader one. thoughts? i might not even do it, but im curious to hear what you guys think.

anyways, hope you all enjoy! and dont forget, likes are nice but reblogs are what motivate creators the most!

p.s. pls check out waking up slow by mountainhymn!!!! it is so wonderful im still crying

“Well, it really all started with my momma.” You felt yourself begin to fidget and made an effort to stand completely still. “She got a job working for a wealthy Russian widow, Mrs Zamolodchikova.”

Mr Morgan let out a low whistle. “Now that’s a name.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “A lot of Russian names are like that. As I was saying, she hired my momma to be a maid when I was still very young. Mrs Zamolodchikova treated us very well, we even lived in a little cottage she had on her land.”

Despite all the years that had passed, you still thought of that cottage fondly. It had been small and not impressive by any means, but it had been your home for most of your childhood. You had a lot of good memories of it.

“I...I lost my momma when I was seven.” Even now, twelve years later, it hurt to say. Your mother had been your whole world, everything began and ended with her, and it had never once occurred to you when you were a child, that you would one day have to face the world without her. She loved you too much to do that to you. And then it happened anyway.

You had never experienced a heart break like it before, or since.

“I’m very sorry to hear that.” Mr Matthews said gently.

“It’s alright.” You assured him, trying to speak around the lump that always formed in your throat whenever you thought about losing your mother. “She had been ill for as long as I could remember, it was only a matter of time.”

“I imagine your aunt and uncle took you in?”

“They wanted to, but Mrs Zamolodchikova stepped in. She said that she saw it as her Christian duty to take me in as a ward, and that’s what I became.” It had stunned you at the time to learn that Mrs Zamolodchikova cared for you that much. You would always be grateful for her kindness, it had changed your life. “She had no children of her own, so I think she wanted me to fill that gap.”

“That was very kind of her.” Mr Matthews sounded surprised, and you supposed that it made sense. You couldn’t imagine that he had come across many people willing to take in the child of an employee, particularly among the rich. You certainly had never seen such a thing in your time among them.

You nodded in agreement. “She taught me etiquette and how to behave in upper class circles, and as I got older I became her companion. That was how I met Mr Cornwall.”

A spark appeared in Mr Van Der Linde’s eyes, and you knew that you really had his full interest now. “How did that come about?”

“He was looking for investors in his business, he was just starting out you see, and he needed some capital.”

“So he went to Mrs Zamolodchikova?” Mr Van Der Linde asked. “She must’ve been rather rich.”

“Exceedingly so.” You said. “Her family is very old Russian money, and when she came to America with her husband, her wealth only grew, even after he died. I imagine Mr Cornwall thought that if he could convince her to invest, he would have an easy time of building his empire.”

“Did he?” Mr Van Der Linde’s eyes sparkled with a kind of devious curiosity, the kind most often found in children. “Convince her to invest that is.”

“I’m afraid not. Mrs Zamolodchikova found him rather...disagreeable.” A part of you still cringed on the inside just thinking about that meeting. It had started off well, and Mr Cornwall had certainly been polite enough, but once his true character came out, it all started to go downhill rather rapidly.

“In what way?”

You hesitated slightly. “Well, I mean, one doesn’t wish to disparage others when they don’t have the opportunity to defend themselves.”

A chuckle came from Mr Van Der Linde, and you even saw a corner of Mr Morgan’s mouth twitch.

“We just want your honest opinion, that’s all.” Mr Matthews assured you. “No need to be disparaging.”

You paused, trying to think of the right way to phrase it. “Mr Cornwall...well, Mrs Zamolodchikova and I found him to be rather...brusque and arrogant. When Mrs Zamolodchikova turned down his request, he got rather upset and he seemed to take it as a personal affront.”

“She must’ve grown to regret that.” Mr Van Der Linde mused.

“Not at all. Mrs Zamolodchikova was happy for him of course, but she was also happy she rejected him. She said she couldn’t imagine being in business with someone so...tasteless.”

“Tasteless in what way?” Mr Matthews asked.

“Well he was...very new money.” When you saw the looks of confusion on the mens’ faces, you tried to think of a better way to phrase it. “He was something of a show off, and a little gaudy. He wore a lot of gold, I imagine to try and impress, but it came off as vain and rather insecure. Mrs Zamolodchikova was very critical of that kind of thing, and when she saw how self aggrandizing he became after his success, she grew to dislike him even more.”

Mr Van Der Linde nodded slowly, and you could almost see the wheels turning in his head. “It sounds like you’ve lead a rather interesting life.”

“I suppose you could say that.” Your eyes roamed over the two older men again. “I imagine that wasn’t the kind of information you wanted, my apologies Mr Van Der Linde.”

Despite your fears, the black haired man smiled and waved a hand. “It’s fine Miss [Last name]. I was just curious, that’s all. Javier, why don’t you walk her back to where she’s staying?”

“Sure thing boss.”

You turned to leave with Mr Escuella, but you hesitated just as he put a hand on the door knob. “Wait.” All eyes were back on you, and you felt yourself flush, but you felt that you needed to get this out. “I just-I just wanted to add that Mr Cornwall is a very powerful man, and in my opinion, and in the opinion of mutual acquaintances that he and I share, he is lead more by pride and ego than wisdom. He doesn’t take insults lightly and can be rather harsh.” You were very careful and deliberate with your words, not wanting to seem like you knew better, but still wanting to convey your feelings of apprehension.

Mr Van Der Linde raised an eyebrow, and you got the feeling that he understood what you were trying to say. “Duly noted Miss.”

You nodded, and turned back to Mr Escuella, this time actually following him outside.

“You must’ve lived a pretty good life for a while.”

You shrugged and felt yourself blush heavily. “I suppose.” It always somewhat embarrassed you, knowing how different your life had been from other people, especially those who were born into the same class as yourself. “I honestly just think I got lucky.” You looked down at your feet. “Don’t feel so lucky now though.”

A heavy silence hung between you two, and you had to bite the inside of your cheeks to stop yourself from crying.

“Sorry.” You said softly. “I’m sure you don’t want to hear about my woes.”

“It’s ok.” Mr Escuella assured you, his voice kind again. “Considering everything you’ve been through, I’d say you have a right to let your feelings out.”

You looked at Mr Escuella in surprise. You hadn’t really thought about it like that. “You’re very kind.” You said sincerely. “Sadie might not think so but I certainly do.”

That brought a bright smile to Mr Escuella’s face, which made you smile in turn. You always enjoyed making people smile, it made you feel good, and you felt that it proved that you were useful and worth something for once.

“You’re a sweet kid.” Mr Escuella’s eyes were shining, although you couldn’t hazard a guess as to why. “Don’t let anyone beat that out of you, ok?”

“I-Ok.” You weren’t sure how else you should respond, being so unused to compliments from strangers. You watched as he held the door to the house with the other women open. “Are you not coming in?”

“Nah.” He smiled. “You stay warm ok?”

“Of course, and you as well Mr Escuella.” You went inside, and no sooner was the door closed that you were practically swarmed by Miss Jones, Miss Gaskill, and Miss Jackson.

“What did they want?”

“You weren’t gone for very long, did everything go alright?”

“Are you allowed to say?”

You felt yourself flush as you tried to keep track of who was asking which question. “It was nothing special.” You said. “They just wanted to know how I knew Mr Cornwall.”

Of course they all also wanted to know, and so you told them what you had told Mr Van Der Linde, Mr Matthews, Mr Morgan, and Mr Escuella-omitting your warning at the end.

Much like the men, they were stunned to hear your story.

“So you grew up pretty well to do.” Miss Jones said, in a tone that sounded impressed and envious.

“I-Well, yes, I suppose.” The embarrassment from earlier had returned. “I was extremely privileged.”

“What was it like?” Miss Gaskill asked, sounding wistful. “Being in that world?”

You paused, trying to think of a good way to describe it.

“When I was a little girl, it was dazzling.” You confessed. “All those men and women in their finery...it looked like an entirely different world. Like a fairy tale.”

“Oh yeah?” Miss Jackson raised a brow. “Meet any prince charmings?”

You laughed. “I met some well to do gentlemen if that’s what you mean.”

“I think she means suitors.” Miss Gaskill said with a giggle, and an eager look on her face. “Well, did you?”

“Oh!” A scorching heat unlike any of the others from before overcame you, and you felt your throat dry up. “I-Well-no.” You stammered, looking askance out of embarrassment.

“Really?”

You looked up and saw Miss Roberts looking at you with surprise. “You mean none of them tried to…” She trailed off, leaving you to fill in the blank.

“Not at all.” You said, your flush worsening. “After all, I was just a maid’s daughter.”

And therein lies the rub.

No matter how much you learned or how you dressed or how you behaved, everyone knew that you were just the daughter of a maid who Mrs Zamolodchikova had taken pity on. Most of them had been polite enough, but that boundary had always been there, and always would be. You had grown accustomed to it, the way one would grow accustomed to a permanent limp. And it left you with what you imagined would be the same level of alienation. It was one of the many unfortunate side effects of being born as yourself, and one you had learned how to deal and navigate the world with.

But it would always be a fairy tale to you. Beautiful, grand, never within your reach no matter how well you knew it. And you would always be that little girl that chased after it with every breath in her chest.

#arthur morgan x reader #john marston x reader #rdr 2 #red dead 2 #red dead fic #fic: how the light gets in

47 notes · View notes

aliendes · 4 years

Text

Natural Borns - Chapter Two

AUTHOR NOTE: all right, here is chapter 2 guys! I’m really excited about the next few chapters where more characters will be introduced. This chapter is kind of a build up to that, so I apologize for not a lot of action yet. It’s a sloooow burn! And I have a new banner made by the lovely @thebannershop, check them out, they are amazing! Anyways if you like this chapter, please please please reblog so more people can see it and send me an ask or comment with your questions! I love to hear your guys’ theories about the story. Also, please be sure to read warnings at the beginning of each chapter, because they may change. Thank you for your support on this series! xx - Des

Banner made by @thebannershop Series info/genre: Angst, fluff, (possible) smut NSFW due to darker themes Pairings: ot7 x fem reader (eventual) Warnings: mentions of panic attacks & anxiety in this chapter! this series will have different trigger warnings listed for each chapter (if there are any), but as a whole, this series will include violence, mentions of depression & other mental illnesses, cursing, abuse, drugs/alcohol, some shitty medical descriptions because i am NOT a doctor, self-esteem issues, fluff, and possible smut in future chapters (but that’s undecided). i will add more warnings/tags in the future if there are any. Description: In the year 2613, over half of the world’s population are what scientists consider ‘designer babies’. YN is a small town girl who is a true natural born, someone born naturally without he help of a lab or gene splicing. Her DNA is greatly sought after, but what is she willing to do to protect it? Word count: 5.1k~

As you continued to take cautious steps, your back collided with something firm, yet not hard enough to be a tree trunk. This was softer, warmer. Human.

Before you could take off running you felt gentle, but large, hands on your shoulders. “Don’t scream, please. We aren’t here to hurt you,” a deep, yet soft voice spoke quickly. Did he just say we!? Despite the strong sense of fear you were feeling, the voice sounded sincere, comforting almost. The hands on your shoulder spun you around and you were met, face to face, with a tall and undeniably handsome man. His features were perfect, too perfect. Plush lips and small, kind eyes. No way is he a natural born. Your eyes widened in fear, and almost as if he could sense your flight response kicking in, he held his hands in front of him placatingly, “hey - hey I promise I’m not going to hurt you.” He rushed out. Did he sound - scared? He seemed almost nervous with the way his brow was furrowed, looking at you with sad eyes.

“Wh- who are you? Wh-what do you w-want?” you stuttered out, the feeling of tears prickling behind your eyes. You took another step backwards, but stumbled in the process, tripping over uneven dirt. You fell unceremoniously to the ground, huffing out a breath as you landed.

He reached his hand out, like he wanted to help, but he took a step back, as if to lessen your fear a bit. “I wanted to talk to you about that man that came to see you earlier,” he started slowly, trying to show you he meant no harm, “that’s all.” His eyes softened significantly at your nearly cowering form on the ground.

Upon the mention of Hyunwoo, your eyes snapped to the strange man’s. It was the first time you stared directly into his eyes, and really took in the man’s face. Even though his features were damn near perfect, his expression was that of pure anguish, sadness, and maybe a dash of fear. His eyes, while beautiful, were dark and he looked worn down, tired. “H-hyunwoo?” you stuttered out, blinking away hot tears.

The man’s eyes perked up upon hearing the name. “You know him?” He now looked at you with a curious expression. Slowly you nodded, shifting your eyes from his face to the ground in front of you, feeling flustered all of the sudden. You didn’t like attention to begin with, hated it in fact, but you don’t think you’ve ever had attention from someone so perfect, someone you assumed was a designer baby. The only time you’d ever even met one was when companies would send representatives to your home or school to scout you. Even then, you didn’t really get to see them this up close.

The stranger hesitated for a second, seemingly thinking something over, before kneeling down in front of you. He reached a hand out in view of your face, causing you to eye it warrily. He could see that you were about to cry, could see the scrapes on the palms of your hands, but he didn’t want you to think he was pitying you. Didn’t want you to think he thought less of you for any reason. Didn’t want to seem intimidating in any way. His offer was a silent one, an unspoken concern of; let me help.

With unshed tears clouding your vision, you placed your shaky hand in his strong one. What he did next surprised you. Instead of pulling you to your feet, which your muscles had already prepared for, he kneeled down in front of you and turned your hand over, inspecting the scrapes you didn’t even realize you had. “Will you let my friend clean your hands up?” He asked softly.

“I- I don’t” you trailed off, looking between this stranger and the peach trees off to your side. Was there someone else here? He did say we. What is going on? There were so many thoughts running through your head you couldn’t process them all at once. “Wh-what is going on?” You asked, bottom lip wobbling.

The stranger's eyes never left your while you spoke, but at your question he looked behind you and nodded briefly. “My name is Namjoon,” he said simply, a soft smile playing at his lips, kindness in his dark eyes.

You felt a presence at your right, causing you to startle quite violently. You turned quickly to look at the person approaching you only to meet eyes with probably the most beautiful human you’ve ever seen. He was tall, like Namjoon as you now knew him, and had even plumper lips than him. His shoulders were so broad, when you looked up at him he was completely blocking the sun from your view. As you looked up at him, he wore a shocked and almost embarrassed look on his face. “I’m sorry - I didn’t mean to-to scare you,” he stuttered out as he sat cross legged on your side. He seemed almost abashed. You almost forgot that you were holding Namjoon’s hand until he passed it over to the newcomer. “I’m Seokjin, but you can call me Jin, for short.” He smiled at you, a warm smile, one that made you feel like you were safe with him. Seokjin took your hand in his before reaching into a backpack you didn’t realize he had been carrying. The backpack was brown leather and looked expensive, only supporting your theory that these men were definitely not from around here, and definitely weren’t natural borns.

“What - what are you doing here?” You asked, a fraction less frazzled than before with the soft way Seokjin is handling you. You felt him gently caress the back of your hand with his thumb as he cleaned the scrape on your palm. It stung slightly, but you were more worried about getting answers. “Why are you here?” It came out harsher than you intended, but your anxiety was skyrocketing at the moment.

Namjoon heaved a sigh, finally giving in to the pressure on his knees and sat down in the dirt directly in front of you. Now, all three of you were sitting in a little circle under one of the heavily blossoming peach trees, oranges and pinks surrounding you. “We wanted to talk to you about Hyunwoo,” Namjoon started, “We wanted to warn you.”

You don’t think Namjoon could’ve sounded anymore ominous with that statement. “Warn me? What do you mean?” You were starting to panic a little, jostling in Seokjin’s gentle hold. He loosened his grip on your wrist so you wouldn’t accidentally hurt yourself.

“Do you trust me?” Namjoon asked suddenly. You cocked your head to the side and narrowed your eyes slightly at him. Did you? Your brain was screaming at you to tell him no, stand up, and run in the direction of your father’s shed. But something else inside you was telling you to stay right where you are, listen to what he has to say. To trust him.

“I- I’m not sure..” you trailed off, looking briefly at Seokjin who had just finished bandaging your hand and was politely waiting for you to hand him your other one. You obliged to his silent request, awkwardly reaching your left arm across your body. You definitely felt like you could trust Jin in this moment and you think he must be a mind reader because he suddenly speaks up.

“Do you know who Hyunwoo is?” he asked, still smiling slightly at you. He had such a calming aura surrounding him. You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding before answering his question.

“I just know he’s my father’s old classmate,” you started, looking between Jin and Namjoon hesitantly, “he came by early this morning. I just assumed he was from another company that wants to buy my DNA. Isn’t that why you’re here?”

Namjoon was quick to butt in, “No!” he said loudly before realizing his mistake when you flinched. He looked annoyed with himself as he started again, “No, no of course not. We’re just like you…” he said with uncertainty, realizing you never spoke your name.

“YN”, you said quickly, wanting to hear what Namjoon had to say and not thinking about the repercussions of giving your name to strangers.

“YN,” he said slowly, the side of his lips quirked up. Dimples. Cute. His dimples made him look slightly less intimidating in that moment. “YN, we’re exactly like you and we wanted to warn you about Hyunwoo and the company he works for.” The smirk quickly disappeared from his features, replaced only with concern.

“What do you mean ‘exactly like me’?” You were confused. You’ve never met anyone ‘exactly like you’, as Namjoon had put it.

Seokjin finished bandaging your left hand and was repacking his backpack as he spoke, “We’re natural borns, and we aren’t the only ones,” he said as he zipped up his bag. You let out a laugh against your will, slapping your hand over your mouth, wide eyes looking up at the two men. Seokjin silently chuckled and you momentarily thought it was the prettiest sight you’ve ever seen. Perfectly straight, white teeth on display as his eyes crinkled in laughter. You definitely didn’t believe him after seeing that.

“There’s no way you- both of you- are natural borns,” you said incredulously after removing your hand from your mouth.

It was Namjoon’s turn to laugh, letting out a dry laugh, “YN, are you a natural born?”

Your mouth snapped shut and your wide eyes turned to look at Namjoon. “Y-yes.” You murmured. You still weren’t sure why exactly they were here, but they must have known that already.

“Then why do you think it’s impossible for us to be natural borns, when you’re sitting right here?”

Was he trying to flatter you? Your cheeks flushed as you looked down at the ground. “I’m nothing special,” you said shyly, not looking either of them in the eye. “I’m just me.”

Namjoon and Seokjin shared a knowing look that you missed. “YN - you’re not normal. You have to know that. Why else do you think companies like Hyunwoo’s won't leave you alone?” You knew there was something different about you. You’ve been told your whole life that you were beautiful, remarkable, even, but mostly by those designer baby companies, and not people whose opinions you actually cared about. Growing up you had been bullied, messed with, told you weren't worth it. Eventually those comments will get to anyone.

You shook your head lightly at Namjoon’s comment. “Don’t try and flatter me, it won't work.” You had a momentary burst of bravery as you folded your arms over your chest and looked Namjoon in the eye.

“I’m not trying to flatter you. We’re here to warn you, that’s all. Maybe get to know you, and let you get to know us. It’s hard being alone, we know that all too well,” Namjoon spoke slowly, almost as if he was afraid you would bolt.

“How do you know what it’s like to be alone?” You didn’t mean to sound so rude and judgemental, but it was hard for you to imagine these two handsome men ever having to face hardships in their lives. They probably grew up in big cities, had lots of friends.

“Most of us went through, or are going through the same thing you’re going through right now. I can guess that you probably don’t have many friends. Been used for your looks on more than one occasion, and I can tell that you have pretty shitty self-esteem from the little bit I’ve gotten to know you.” Namjoon said, nonchalantly as if he’s known you your whole life.

You huffed a little bit, blowing some of the hair that had fallen in front of your face. “You don’t know me.”

Namjoon let out another laugh, except this time his perfect teeth and cute dimples were on full display. “Stubborn, too.”

Seokjin smiled at this, looking at you before standing up to his full height. He looked more intimidating up there, but he offered you his hand, pulling you gently to your feet. “Be careful with your hands, they should heal up in a couple days.” You nodded shyly at him before letting go of his large hand.

“Will you let us explain why we’re here? Maybe somewhere,” Namjoon glanced over at your home and father’s shed in the distance, “where we won't be interrupted?”

You have never been one to talk to strangers, always on edge, wary of crowds and people. But something was telling you to go with Namjoon, find somewhere to talk, and you knew the perfect place.

You led Namjoon and Seokjin through your family's orchard and off the west side of your property line. Just past your land, there was a denser conifer forest, filled with thick shrubs and oak trees that led to a small stream downhill. You knew the forest like the back of your hand, having lived in your small house your entire life. One of your favorite places to be was by this stream, but you hadn’t been out here in years, too busy with the farm since becoming an adult.

“It’s beautiful out here,” Seokjin stated, hands gripping his backpack straps that surrounded his broad shoulders, “do you come out here often?”

You stifled a laugh. It sounded like a cheesy pickup line you would hear in one of the dramas your mom watched. “I used to,” you began, looking around and taking in the scenery. The stream was flowing quickly, a sign that rain had fallen recently. You could hear the buzzing of insects that came with the summer heat and humidity, “I haven’t in a while though.”

Seokjin nodded his head, not prodding any further. He looked up at the canopy, only to see thick leaves and pine that completely covered the forest ground from the sun. Along the edges of the small stream were river stones, some nearly completely covered in moss. The fast tinkling of the water over the rocks was soothing, you almost forgot how much you loved it here. You took in a deep breath, allowing the smells of fresh pine and dirt to enter your nose.

“Will your parents be wondering where you are?” Namjoon asked as he sat down on a rock crossing one leg over the other.

You shook your head quickly, “Mom’s at the market, she won't be back for a while. Dad’s working in his shed, he-” you started, but quickly stopped. You weren’t sure how much you should share with these strange men, “he won’t be looking for me,” you conceded.

Namjoon nodded in acknowledgement before beginning, “You probably have a lot of questions for us, so I’ll keep this quick,” as he spoke you watched Seokjin set his bag down next to Namjoon and walk over to the edge of the water. He cupped his hands together and gathered some water in his hands, splashing it over his face. You watched him curiously before turning your attention back to Namjoon. “Like we told you, we’re natural borns. True natural borns, and like you, we’re different.”

You weren’t entirely sure what he meant by ‘different’. Sure, you knew you looked different from what most natural borns looked like. Your nose was a bit sharper, cheek bones a little higher, lips a little fuller, but you didn’t think you looked much different than what designer babies looked like. You didn’t think you were unique or special in any way. “I- I don’t feel different,” you said, instinctively reaching your hands out in front of you, turning them over and looking at them.

Namjoon laughed, like a full belly laugh, at your movements. You couldn’t quite hear over the sound of his laughter, but you swear you heard Jin mutter ‘cute’ from the stream.

After his laughter subsided a bit, Namjoon patted the rock next to him, gesturing for you to sit down. You reluctantly sat, still unsure if you should trust these two. “Well, what do you know about yourself?”

It was an odd question. One you weren’t sure how to answer. “Uh- um, I mean I’m YLN YN, I’m 23. I never went to college, never left my home town. I know I look a little different from most natural borns, but uh, that’s all I guess.”

“And your parents?” Namjoon supplied when he realized you weren’t going to continue.

“What about my parents?” You asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“What do you know about your parents?” His eyes narrowed slightly when he asked, almost like he was testing you. Does he know something you don’t?

“They-they’re both natural borns. From this town. My dad’s parents owned our peach farm before they passed away. It’s been in our family for a long time.” You shrugged your shoulders a little bit, shaking your head. You weren’t sure what Namjoon was getting at.

“Are you sure?” As Namjoon asked the question, you heard - and felt - Seokjin splash water on him from behind you, getting you a little wet in the process. Namjoon made a sound of surprise as he turned around quickly to glare at the other man. “What was that for?”

“Leave her be, Joon,” he scolded gently. He really did seem like a motherly type, taking care of others and keeping them in line.

“What do you mean, ‘am I sure’?” You asked, a little defensively, squaring your shoulders and turning your entire body towards Namjoon. You could hear Seokjin’s sigh behind you as he turned his attention back to the stream.

“Look, we don’t have all the answers, but we have our own personal experiences,” Namjoon let out a heavy breath before continuing, “I grew up in Ilsan in a small community of natural borns. I was approached by designer baby companies starting when I was in middle school. I realized something was different about me when they wouldn’t leave me alone by the time I graduated high school.”

Your defensive stance softened a bit at his story. You couldn’t help but compare the words he was saying with your own experiences. “When I was about to graduate, that man that came to your house, you called him Hyunwoo?” You nodded at his question, “He came to make my mother an offer. Told her that they would pay her over a million won for me. He told her that I would be taken care of, that they just wanted my DNA.” He looked behind him at Seokjin as he told his story. Jin was sitting now, back leaned up against a large boulder. He had his knees at his chest, playing with one of his shoelaces. You guessed he must be at least a few years older than you, but he looked so childlike right now. If what Namjoon is telling you is true, they must have been through a lot. “My mother agreed. I don’t blame her, I really don’t. He made it seem like everything would be fine, that I would finish high school while in their care and my college would be paid for,” Namjoon let out a dry chuckle, “they told her I’d be with them for 3 months, 6 max.” He had a glazed look in his eyes as he stared at a tree off in the distance. You focused on his face in this moment, and you could see his pain, sadness, grief, even. You could tell this man before you was extremely intelligent. He had hidden these emotions so well earlier, he wore a mask. You felt bad for him, and your empathetic side was hurting for him. “I was there for years. They experimented on me, poked me with needles, deprived me of food. What I went through there, YN - I- I can’t let happen to anyone else,” he looked you directly in the eye as he continued, “that’s why we came here. To help you.”

A look of realization took over your face, eyes widening. “They want to take me? Bu-but my parents would never let that happen. They - they’ve always protected me!” You knew your parents had gone to great lengths to make sure you were never poached by companies, always turning down offers for large sums of money in exchange for you.

“YN, have you ever seen that man - Hyunwoo - before today?” You shook your head no quickly, “But you said your father has known him for years?” You shook your head yes this time, only more slowly, afraid of Namjoon’s next words, “Why do you think he’s showing up now? Why do you think your father has never mentioned him before?”

Your father’s stiff shoulders and your mother’s look of uncertainty from this morning flashed through your mind briefly. “I- no. Th-they wouldn’t lie to me.” Your voice was quiet, almost too soft for Namjoon to hear. You startled violently, hand over your chest as you felt Seokjin’s warm arm swing around your shoulders. You hadn’t heard him even get up from his rock. You felt him jump slightly at your movement. You made a mental note that he must scare easily, like you.

“We didn’t come here to frighten you, or to turn you against your parents. We came here to warn you, to let you know what that man is capable of.” Seokjin said calmly, dark eyes boring into your own.

“YN, we were both taken by Hyunwoo, and his company, Big Hit Pharmaceuticals. Kidnapped. We both went through things no one should ever have to endure, and more natural borns just like us, like you, are going through it right now. Some of them are our friends, our brothers. We don’t want this to happen to anyone else.” Namjoon finished somberly, a sad smile on his face as he looked at you, waiting for you to react.

Big Hit Pharmaceuticals… Why did that name sound so familiar? You furrowed your brow as you thought back. Where have you heard that name before? You were snapped out of your reverie as Seokjin spoke up, “We live and travel together, Namjoon, myself, and three others. All natural borns, all running from Big Hit,” Jin took his arm from around your shoulders and reached down to grab one of the hands you had placed in your lap, nervously picking at your fingernails. He intertwined his fingers with yours, silently scolding your nervous tick. “We want to help you, YN. If you’ll let us.”

You quickly pulled your hand away from Jin, feeling apologetic, but unable to express it at the moment. You missed the look of understanding on Seokjin’s face as your eyes focused on your feet. You were starting to feel the familiar sense of panic swell in your chest. Your breathing was getting quicker, you could feel your heartbeat pounding in your ears, it was like all your blood left your body and was swirling in your head. You haven’t had a panic attack in years, usually only occurring in large crowds. But the thought of leaving your parents, of being taken away by Hyunwoo, even going somewhere with these men sitting next to you, was too much for you to handle. You clutched your hand to your chest, as if that would ease the tension within it.

Seokjin immediately took notice of your stress and wrapped his strong arms around your tiny frame. At first you were shocked to have a stranger's arms around you, but when your wide, scared eyes met his, all you saw was compassion and care. Your breathing started to slow as Jin squeezed even tighter around your body. It was an awkward hug, with both of you sitting sideways on a too small rock, but it was comforting nonetheless. It was strange to you, that Seokjin knew exactly how to help, but you shouldn’t have been surprised. His calm and comforting nature should have told you as much. Namjoon watched on with a worried expression, afraid that you would push away Jin’s act of comfort, but you didn’t. He didn’t expect you to actually start to calm down. Leave it to Jin to know exactly what to do.

As your breathing started to return to normal, Jin’s hold on you loosened. As your mind returned to a normal state, your thoughts did as well. You needed to get out of here, away from Namjoon and Seokjin. They were comforting, sure. But you weren’t sure if you totally believed them yet. You needed answers, needed to feel safe and secure in your home. You still felt safe there, right? Yes, yes. Of course you did. You physically shook the thoughts from your head and Jin removed himself from you completely.

“I need to go home,” you uttered quickly, “I need to get out of here.” You went to stand up, but Namjoon beat you to it, standing above you with a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Wait, please-” he started but you cut him off.

“I don’t know you!” You half-screamed, then lowering your voice again, arms gesturing frantically as you spoke, “I- I don’t know you, I’m sorry. I believe you - I do - but I need to figure some things out. I need to talk to my parents, my friends.” You could feel yourself panicking again, and as you’ve come to expect from Jin’s comforting presence, he was once again there rubbing a soothing hand up and down your back.

Namjoon pulled his hand back as if you had burned him, causing your gaze to fall upon him, a regretful look on his face. “It’s ok YN, we understand,” it was Jin who was speaking now, a soft smile on his plush lips, “I’ll give you my number and if you need anything, you can reach us. Is that ok with you?” He spoke so gently, you could do nothing but nod slowly at him, lips pursed in a thin line. You supposed taking his number wouldn’t hurt. Maybe you could speak with your parents and get some more answers from Seokjin later. You fished your phone out of your pocket, noticing the missed messages from your group chat, and handed it to Jin, which he gently took. His eyes darted back and forth between your two, looking for any resistance in your face, searching for any hesitation. When he found none, he turned his gaze to your phone and began typing.

“Please be safe, YN,” Namjoon spoke quietly. He sounded defeated, and for some reason it caused your heart to drop. Why did you care so much what this man thought? “Please,” he finished curtly.

Jin handed back your phone after a moment and went to grab his backpack, rising from his seat on the rock. He took a few steps towards Namjoon before stopping and turning his body halfway towards you. “You call me, or text me, if you need anything,” Jin started, slinging his backpack onto his shoulders, “I mean it.”

You nodded your head, yet remained seated on the rock. “Where are you going to go?” You asked before you could stop yourself.

Namjoon raised an eyebrow at your question, “We’ll be around. Not too far. If you need us we can get to you quickly.”

You didn’t realize that was the answer you were looking for, but when he gave it, you felt… relief? You weren’t sure why you felt this way, but you suddenly felt a little lighter. You nodded your head again, looking between Namjoon and Seokjin.

Namjoon worried his bottom lip between his teeth and hesitated like he had something to say, but thought better of it, before giving you a curt nod and turning around. Jin offered the same type of nod, turning and placing his hand on Namjoon’s shoulder. As they started to walk away, you could hear them murmuring quietly, but couldn’t make out the words over the babbling of the stream behind you. You watched as the pair walked through the dense forest and you idly wondered if they had been here before. They seemed to know where they were going at least, and you found an odd comfort in that fact. As they disappeared into the thick of the forest, you let out a breath you didn’t notice you’d been holding.

You suddenly felt exhausted. Mentally, physically, and most of all, emotionally. You just absorbed so much information and you didn’t know what to do with most of it. The first thing your brain unpacked was: there are others like you. You’ve always felt alone, isolated from other natural borns, but you never thought anything about you was special, per se. But after meeting Namjoon and Seokjin, if you truly were like them, they definitely were something special, at least based on their appearance alone.

The second thing you tried to come to terms with, was the fact that if you were indeed different, and like these two men, that meant Hyunwoo and Big Hit Pharmaceuticals were possibly going to attempt to take you, or buy you, from your parents. But this just caused more questions to form. Were your parents keeping something from you? The question Namjoon asked you earlier flashed through your mind.

Are you sure?

What did he mean by that? You need to talk to your parents, and soon. Maybe they knew something about what made you different. Why these companies wanted your, and others apparently, DNA.

You were so lost in your thoughts that your brain was just barely registering the fact that you could potentially be in danger. Namjoon and Jin both just told you they were essentially kidnapped and held against their will by this company, and you were sitting out in the middle of the forest, alone. This kicked you into high gear, standing up from the rock and looking in all directions. Seeing that you were completely alone should have calmed your anxiety, but all it did was make it worse. You needed to get home, and fast.

You took off running through the dense forest in the direction of your farm. Bare feet hitting the ground rapidly, twigs snapping and forest debris crunching under your weight. Pushing through the pain, you ran as fast as your legs would take you until you reached the edge of the forest, light finally shining through a gap in the trees. As you reached a clearing of brush, you could make out your home in the distance, past the orchard. You stopped running for a moment, feeling relief at the sight of your home. You looked on carefully, standing half hidden behind a tree, chest heaving from the physical exertion, trying to catch your breath. Squinting, you cocked your head to the side as you caught sight of something, or someone, in your driveway. There, in front of your house, was your father.

And Hyunwoo.

To be continued...

A/N: What do you guys think YN is going to do!? Super excited for the next chapters, where we will meet the rest of the group! Let me know what you think, as always if you want to be added to the taglist please follow me and comment or send me an ask!

taglist: @minifruity @mrcleanheichou

128 notes · View notes