#we need like a text box next to him every time he de-ages so we know how old he is

[mettywiththenotes]

Predicted dialogue for next chapter

All Might:

AFO, a young teen now:

[charlie-rulerofhell]

For they know exactly what they do

Today there was a pretty long article published in the German newspaper FAZ, written by Julia Schaaf. Since there were quite a few interesting topics raised in it and Måneskin talked about some new aspects (or in more detail), I translated the whole thing (it might also have helped me to procrastinate).

Full interview in English under the cut.

For they know exactly what they do

June 22, 2021

Four young rock musicians from Rome are today's hottest band. Måneskin are enchanting Europe. Why? We met them for an interview.

Every romance needs its founding myth, an anecdote from the beginning, something you can tell later in more difficult times for self-assurance.

In the case of the band Måneskin, who first had Italy and now half of Europe wrapped around their fingers, and who are now trying to conquer the rest of the world with their rock music, there is the story of the shoe box. Rome, around five years ago: Four teenagers who are meeting every day after school in their rehearsal room to make music together, and sometimes they play their songs on the Via del Corso in the city centre in front of a changing audience. One day they want to record their own stuff. They find a studio that they can actually afford and as they go there they bring a shoe box, with the name of the band written on it, 'moonshine' in Danish, the bassist's mother is Danish. In the box: around seven kilogram of coins. The things you get from playing music on the streets. Everyone searching through Instagram for photos from that time can find four hippies with children's faces, three boys in batik, the girl is wearing a straw hat.

As they have to pay [for the recording], frontman Damiano David, 22, says that there was this guy, Angelo, and his bandmate Victoria De Angelis, 21, is interrupting: “No, Andrea, not Angelo”, and all of them have to laugh because a rigid studio manager with the Italian name 'angel' would be even funnier for a founding myth. David continues his story: “The guy was completely dumbfounded. 'We can't do that.' We went: 'Sure we can, that's worth the same even if it's just 20 cent coins, it's still 300 euros.” Thomas Raggi, 20, the guitarist of the band, is gasping for air as he laughs, while drummer Ethan Torchio, 20, is smiling dreamily. David finishes: “And then we snuck off before he was able to count it.” [the German text says 'verdrücken' here which is just a colloquial way of saying 'we left', but it entails some sort of a dramatic exit, so yeah, let your thoughts get creative how they left exactly :D].

Four young musicians on the verge of global fame are sitting on a white interview sofa in Berlin, completely styled, babbling across each other like overeager teenagers.

Ever since the Roman band first won the music festival Sanremo and then also the Eurovision Song Contest, carried by the enthusiasm of European viewers, you could say Måneskin has become a phenomenon. “Rock 'n' Roll never dies!”, Damiano David yelled fueled by the adrenaline of winning, and the insinuation that circulated on social media of the singer snorting during the counting of votes in front of a live camera – including their strict denial followed by a negative drug test result – might have given an additional boost to their public interest, their exploding album, ticket and merch sales, and their outstanding success on Spotify.

“We think it's a shit prejudice against rock music that there always have to be drugs involved. We fully threw ourselves into our participation with the utmost professionalism. We give everything for the music. So of course we don't want people to think that we can only do that because we take drugs.” – Victoria De Angelis

Prior to Eurovision, Måneskin was more of an insider's tip outside of Italy. Handmade rock music, not creating something entirely new but paying homage to the good old times with classic guitar riffs and cracking drum beats, being a lot of fun but also quite fragile and vulnerable at times and, first and foremost, conveying a captivating energy. Finally, on the stage of Rotterdam, live after so many months of isolation and renunciation, this wave of energy spilled straight over into European living rooms. It seemed easy to (mistakenly) interpret the winning song “Zitti e buoni” (Shut up and behave) as a declaration of frustration of our youth in times of a pandemic. In fact, singer Damiano David is singing about the favourite topic of the band: the unrelenting need to, against all odds, be yourself, despite or perhaps because you are different. The message fits their provocative sex appeal, which the band uses to demonstrate their independence of gender norms at any given time. But the core essence of rock music has always been the promise of unlimited freedom.

Thus at the first moment, the meeting with Måneskin is kind of startling. It's Wednesday, we are in the top floor of the new Sony head quarters in Berlin. The four Italians have just started their two-week long promotion tour through Europe. In the afternoon there will be a live concert in a queer club [the SchwuZ, but that's not mentioned here] in Neukölln, which will be streamed via TikTok. Around one million viewers will watch the show, some of them even from Brazil, so people at Sony are pretty excited [for Måneskin to come here]. But at first, these stunningly gorgeous creatures [yes, that's the exact wording :D] are standing surrounded by an entourage of people – their management, PR team, a stylist, a photographer, people who can hold a smartphone or a cigarette if needed [this paragraph is worded a little weirdly, especially taking into account that basically their whole team / 'entourage' is just friends of them, but it seems like the journalist didn't know that or maybe they just wanted to describe their first impression]. They seem like fictional / artificial characters out of a Hollywood movie. Transparent frill blouses with blazers and flared leather trousers, even the platform boots, everything brand-new, the makeup makes their faces look like a glossy magazine cover even in person. The smokey eyes of De Angelis and Raggi make them look smug and bored. Later, on the pictures it will probably look cool.

So of course your first impression might be: This band is under contract to industry giant Sony ever since their success on an Italian casting show [X Factor] in Winter 2017. The music industry must have its hand in the game when a band is photographed half-naked by Oliviero Toscani and styled by Etro. Also, one does not simply rent a villa with a pool in Rome to produce new music there, isolated from the rest of the world. And who else went to London for two whole months, shortly before the winter lockdown, just for inspiration? After the TikTok concert in Berlin – De Angelis and David are now wearing fishnet shirts that sparkle with every move, their bare nipples covered with an X of black tape – the band is posing with a few influencers. In the world of social media you would call that 'producing content'. But what does that mean for a band who are preaching their hosanna of authenticity? How authentic is Måneskin? And is their pointedly casual approach to sexuality and gender cliches in today's pop-cultural spirit more than a marketing strategy?

We're in the interview, the recording device is running for not even five minutes, when Victoria De Angelis says: “Actually, we just try to be ourselves and do what we really want to do.” And really: The more you listen to those four how they speak about the early days of the band in their slurred Roman dialect, about the shoe box and their own experiences with being different, but most importantly about their shared obsession [with music], the more you realise that [De Angelis] is  very serious. Ethan Torchio, who got his first drum kit at the age of six or seven from his father because he was beating everything he could reach, says: “For me, music is like food. I cannot live without it.” The bassist next to him laughs at his pathos. Singer Damiano David applauds the otherwise more reserved friend for his truthfulness [it says 'klarer Punkt', meaning 'for the point he makes', but it makes it seem like Damiano is agreeing with Ethan here, although it doesn't indicate whether he agrees that yes, music is everything for Ethan or that he understands and feels the same].

De Angelis and guitarist Raggi already knew each other from middle school and they were the ones who tried to form a band at the age of only 13, a band that actually took music seriously.

De Angelis: “It's just difficult at that age to find other people who really put everything into music and who truly commit themselves and are willing to invest a lot of their time.”

Raggi: “We set strict rules and scheduled fixed times for the rehearsals, for every day.”

David: “Fever, stomach ache, there was no excuse. Even if you were feeling sick in the rehearsal room. At least you were in the rehearsal room.”

The way the four of them talk across each other, completing each other's sentences, taking turns in talking and sometimes joking about each other, seems intimate and playful. Singer David remembers how at first bassist [De Angelis] was merciless towards him when it came to her first metal band project, as she told him that he wasn't committed enough [to the music]: “Back then I was still playing Basketball. I was one of the people that Vic absolutely didn't want [in her band].” Drummer Torchio was later discovered through Facebook, even though there had already been a drummer, a close friend, but he was not good enough. It seems as if even back then music was everything for them. Even if it meant that only Raggi managed to graduate.

And why rock, why rock music of all things? Because it's great, the four of them say in unison. David adds: “Actually, it's a genre that allows you to do everything you want to do.”

When they played on the street, they were laughed at by their classmates. But not only there. De Angelis explains that she never wanted to be a typical girl: “I was always deterred by those stupid boxes that people put you in, and that are just restricting and constraining you, because something is only regarded as male or female. I always rejected that. Instead, I just wanted to do the things I enjoyed doing, I went skating and played football.” Torchio says: “Friends who are not friends anymore were already telling me at the age of ten that those“ – he grabs his long, silky black hair – “were wrong. Because I'm a boy and boys are meant to have short hair, long hair is only for girls. I was bullied a lot for that.”

“Compared to the past, people in our age became much more open-minded. It gets better.” – Thomas Raggi

Frontman David on the other hand, for whom eye shadow, jingling earrings and nail polish as well as his bare torso with the tattoos have become trademarks by now, says: “I was actually more of the average boy.” De Angelis convinced him to try out some eyeliner, which he describes as a spiritual awakening: “I liked myself much more [with makeup]. I saw myself more as myself. As if it had been a suppressed desire of mine.” On a trip to Copenhagen with the others, when he realised that it really didn't matter what people were thinking about him, he got his first fake fur [coat? the article doesn't specify that] in a second-hand shop and let his clothing style be guided by his own love to experiment: “I realised that my whole life I was just going at half speed.” When it comes to diversity all four of them are becoming almost missionary.

At the same time, their success is not only opening doors for them. Back home in Rome they are barely able to go out on the street due to all the paparazzi. “[You need a] hoodie and huge sunglasses”, David says, “the mask is quite helpful, too.” And still, none of them is complaining, and Torchio explains why: “Even if those experiences right now may have sides that are not so pleasant, we still know that for us a dream is coming true. We experience something that we always had in our minds, so we are willing to face every consequence that this entails.”

So is the band facing difficult times, is Måneskin going to change with all the success? Again, all of them answer at the same time.

David: “I'm not worried about that.”

Raggi: “No way!”

De Angelis: “On the contrary. Everything that happened to us happened because we are who we are, so we want to continue the exact same way and stay ourselves.”

Just a few hours later, they are at the stage in Neukölln, bouncing around like pinballs, hammering at their instruments, flirting with each other. “We are out of our minds, but different from the others”, David sings their winning hymn against conformism, and: “The people talk, unfortunately they talk.” Here on stage, the four paradise birds [a German word describing someone with a flamboyant personality] with their half-nude-glittering outfits are radiating an incredible energy with the utmost sincerity, and you begin to wish there was a live audience instead of the TikTok cameras, absorbing and spreading this energy. Måneskin. A cry for a life after the pandemic, a cry for freedom and a better world.

“We do what we wished for all our lives.” – Ethan Torchio

[sope-and-shine]

The Right of a King: Pt. 1

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

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

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

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

Masterlist

* * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hit his arm, “Get out of here.”

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

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

* * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You jump, “Fix what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

You really hope you’re going crazy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But nothing does.

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

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

If you get that far.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I did.” You nod, smug smile and all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re being unreasonable.” He huffs. 

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

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

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

“Well, this time she is,” You insist.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not happening!” You call over your shoulder.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 ---

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

Anyone but you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shrug, “It’s just banana milk.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s fine.” You mumble. 

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

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

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

That gets you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?” You ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Any of them?” He asks.

You nod, “Just lead the way.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’d be devastated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You roll your eyes, “Oh, sure.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Are you really falling for him?

~ Read: Part 2 ~

[diaryofabeautyfiend]

Small Time Witch (13)

By the time you returned home your apartment was organized inventoried and packed. All that remained was the furniture which came with the place. You went back to leave the key and check for anything that may have been missed. Loki went with you. You found some wine and a couple of cups so you poured him some.

“It’s not a goblet so I hope you don’t feel too unrefined.” You handed him the cup and your finger tips touched.

“I’ll make an exception for today as we are not at a banquet.”

“So, what did you want to talk to me about?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to spend time with you. You are getting more involved with Captain imbecile and I assumed I wouldn’t see you as much.”

You rolled your eyes, “Be nice. He is good to me.”

“Darling, I am being kind. There are worse things to be called. I was wondering if you wanted to continue your training with Stephen Strange. They all seem to trust him. He seems capable.”

You stared into space absorbing what he was saying and understanding what he was tiptoeing around. “You’re leaving me.” He was quiet for several minutes. He held your hand and let you feel what he was feeling. It was too difficult to articulate. Slow tears fell from his eyes. He wiped them away before you could see.

You felt how much he loved you which you already knew. There was more. There was sadness. A deep sadness knowing you didn’t want him. You wanted to tell him that wasn’t true. You wanted to tell him how scared you were. You didn’t have to. He knew you were scared but not why. Perhaps it was time he knew about Andrew.

“I’m sorry. I can’t sit by and watch you fall in love with someone else. Your happiness means everything to me, Pet. If you are happy with him who am I to stand in your way?” You wrapped your arms around his neck and he nuzzled your hair. “I have a gift for you.” He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a familiar red box. “Open it.”

The hinge was tight and creaked when you lifted the lid. Inside was a gold bracelet adorned with tiny emeralds. Next to it was a tiny gold screwdriver attached to a leather cord. You passed your finger tips over the bracelet touching every jewel. “It’s beautiful.”

“May I?” You nodded yes and he took the bracelet out discarding the box. He produced the little screwdriver and opened the bracelet enough to slip over your wrist. He fastened it and held his hand over it. The emeralds glowed for a second. “Now you can wear it in the shower or wherever and it won’t be damaged. Do you like it?”

“I love it. Just one question. How do I take it off?” He hung the leather cord around his neck and gave you devilish smile.

“You don’t. Only I can. Or you can probably remove it with a regular screwdriver. But now, if you ever need me no matter where I am, I’ll always know.”

“Lok, can I tell you something? I feel like I need to tell you about my ex boyfriend Andrew. He’s the one who killed my family. But I loved him so completely. I was so consumed by him that I couldn’t see what was happening before my eyes.” You couldn’t look at him. You told him every detail of your relationship. By the end you were sobbing.

Loki tried to piece together what you were trying to say. “So you think I’ll betray you like Andrew did?” He couldn’t help but feel hurt by your assumption. “Pet, I give you my word I will never betray you.”

“No! No, Loki, I know you wouldn’t. I’m afraid because what I felt for Andrew is nothing compared to what I feel for you and that terrifies me. I can’t face a life of self isolation. It feels like you are all I will ever need. At this moment when we are together, no one else in this world exists. Do you understand how dangerous that can be?”

He did understand. He held you and knew that leaving was the right thing. You deserved to be surrounded by friends and family. It was never his intention to keep you from your friends but he certainly understood how you felt. If you were the only person he saw for the next thousand years he would be content. “I know that if I stay, you’ll continue to feel this way. I can’t let that happen.”

“Who knows? Maybe I’ll figure out a way to stop aging and we can live forever in a cottage on my family’s land. I still own it. I have every intention of building a house there.”

In your mind you saw a cottage built in the glen where the sun would shine through every morning like a spotlight. You would replant Lana’s garden filled with all of the herbs and flowers she loved so much. Inside you would have a fire place and deep tufted sofas. Bookshelves would line the walls behind you. You could work from home if Tony allowed.

You envisioned a place bustling with family just like it was when your mother was alive. A place filled with life. You longed for this. Loki saw it too and couldn’t help but smile. You shared a vision that you were having tea in your garden. He could see the sun shining on your face and your hair a mess. You were wrapped in an oversized cardigan and a blanket worrying over a book. This is a sight he’d like to see for all eternity. He pulled your face towards his and kissed you. You pulled back, “What?”

“Nothing. It just felt right. I’m sorry I know we shouldn’t.” He ran his fingers over your knuckles awakening a deep need in your lower belly.

“Well you’re leaving so I guess it wouldn’t be the worst thing if we did it one more time.”

“Only if you’re sure.” You climbed onto his lap and kissed him with a force that completely disarmed him. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

He followed your lead letting you undress him. You were less desperate now. You had no need to rush. You fell to your knees and slid your hands under his ass tilting up his hips so that you could swallow his manhood. You swirled your tongue around tasting the saltiness of his skin. He arched his back moaning and thrusting in time with your movements. You wanted to absorb him. You felt powerful. Holding him in your hand was as raw as holding his still beating heart. His cock throbbed and pulsed in your mouth. He was getting close to his tipping point. “Pet, stop. I want to feel you.” You released him with a pop and smiled up at him.

You stood up and undressed excruciatingly slow. He scooted to the very edge of the cushion and draped one leg over his shoulder. Two long fingers dipped into you and stretched you open. He licked you slow then fast always keeping you guessing. Then he developed a rhythm that turned you to goo. Your orgasm came hard and fast. Your leg nearly gave out from under you. He held your hips and you let your hands fall on his shoulders for stability. He kept going until he felt your body stiffen again then he stopped.

He pulled you back to his lap and lowered you down. You both sighed as your bodies settled into each other. If you were his puzzle box he was your key that took you apart and got you together. The whole apartment seemed to rock. A wave built inside of you and when it reached its peak you held onto him for dear life as it crashed down. When he came he pulled you back to look at his face. His eyes were fixed on yours and you rode each other to safety. You rolled off of his lap and pulled him down to lay his head on you. When he finally spoke his voice was rough and ragged. You felt his tears flowing over your bare belly but you didn’t say anything. You just ran your fingers through his hair trying to calm him.

“I love you, Y/N. And if I live another thousand years I will love you each and every day that my body draws breath.” He sat up and took your hand and placed it over his heart, “Each beat is yours and it will never beat for another living soul. Please, my beauty, tell me you love me too so that I can survive until you are ready for me to come home.”

“I love you, Loki.” You whispered letting tears stream down your cheeks. He wiped them away and pressed his forehead to yours.

“Then that is all I need.” You kissed again to seal your union. You were bound to each other now. Even in death he would follow you.

Both of you were reluctant to leave your little bubble. You could no longer ignore Steve’s calls and texts. Loki got dressed before Steve threatened to come over. You embraced one more time both of you now audibly sobbing. He kissed your forehead and let you go. When the door closed you crumbled to the floor.

Where he was going you dared not ask nor how he would get there. He never explicitly told you that he had the tasseract but you kind of suspected. If you really knew you would be honor bound to tell someone and he refused to let you be a part of that. He had to get around somehow. Horses were not exactly de rigueur as a mode of transport on Midgard. Before he left he sent a message to Thor letting him know his time on Earth was up and he was searching for greener pastures. With a twist of the cube he was gone.

You collected yourself and grabbed your keys so you could go to the compound. Steve was out with Sam grabbing a drink. You were glad for the space. You found your room and crawled into bed. After a moment you heard a tap on your door. It was Wanda.

“Do you want some company?” You lifted your head and lost it when you looked at her. She crawled into bed with you and let you fall apart. She knew he was gone. She stayed with you all night.

U P S T A T E N E W Y O R K

“Spare no expense. I want this place to withstand anything.” Loki said to the architect. “When can I expect it to be ready?”

“No time at all, Mr. Laufeyson. Is this a vacation home?”

“No. This is where we plan to retire.”

The architect chuckled, “You look a little young to talk about retirement.”

Loki pushed up his sunglasses, “I look good for my age. Call me at this number when it’s completed.”

“Yes, sir.”

He set out on a mission to find a way to make you and all of your future children immortal. He wouldn’t return to Midgard until he found a way.

S I X M O N T H S L A T E R

An envelope arrived for you at the front desk of Stark industries. You were in the lab working on some new tech and chatting with Thor and Nat when Tony came in. “This came for you. Since when do you get mail here?” You swiped from his hand.

There was no return address just a stamp. Your name was hand written on the front in beautiful penmanship. Thor peered over your shoulder frowning, “That’s my brother’s sigil.” You pressed the envelope to your chest searching for a more private place to open it. Thor followed you. “What did he send you?”

“Shhhh. I don’t know.” You opened it and an ornate gold key fell out clanging onto the floor. The top of the key was fabricated to also look like Loki’s sigil. You picked it up and fished out the papers inside. The first was a deed in your name and his. You handed it to Thor who looked very confused.

“He bought you a house?!”

“What the fuck, Thor? Did you know about this?” The next thing was a small postcard with a picture of the most stunning cottage on the front. It was situated in a glen where the sun would shine through each morning like a spotlight. Exactly like the one in your vision. On the back it simply said, “Come home when you miss me.”

[michaelbfanfic]

2.

Michael

“So we’re defiantly doing the French Alps next week”

“Just for a week?”

I questioned Lori as we went for our morning run. I’ve really been taking a break from everything. Movies, Directing, and Boxing just to focus on the business aspect of life. I stopping to smell the flowers rather than work myself to death.

“I mean, I say a week because of work. But I mean we can do longer”

I shrugged. Like I said, I had no commitments at the time. My Billion dollar.  Where do I start. My name is Michael B Jordan. I’m 30 years old and I am worth $85.112 Billion. How? Easy I decided at a young age I wasn’t going to be hungry forever. I made sure to work smart with my funds and it took me a long way. I realized early I was more than just TV and so I decided to be more than just movies and TV.

I am the CEO Of  Whitley J Incorporation. We invests in and holds dozens of major public and private companies. As part of our portfolio, my company also owns and operates several self-titled companies, including Toussaint Home Services of America and WJ Direct Insurance Company. But apart from our branded companies, WJ does a bit more than provide insurance. In 2017, WJ companies and holdings contribute a variety of commodities and services to the market - including producing computers and electronic products, providing insurance, producing clothing, serving food products, automotive products and services and much more. 

Although I originally started out primarily in the textile industry, I’ve grown to become a conglomerate that invests in a diverse group of major companies and provides the prime example of my famous value investing strategy. 

 I have 100% ownership in multimillion and billion dollar companies. And not all of them are the same. I’ll name a few. For starters, Billups Brick Company, it’s construction, I own it 100%. AlterLinks, Electric Transmission, I own it 100%, and it’s also a  subsidiary of WJ Energy. I mean the list is long, jewelry, auto sales, utilities, Insurance, Bond Insurance, Media,  Logistics, Food and Beverage, Pipeline, Clothing, Luxury, Jets, Furniture, Sports Equipment,  Pharmaceuticals, Materials and Construction, as I said before the list exceeds my age of life. Plus more. 

“Well if you leave baby, I might not come back with you right away”

She shrugged and nodded her head.

“Okay. That’s fine”

Pecking my lips she jogged ahead leaving me behind to catch up. My relationship with Lori was.... nice. I mean she’s younger than me, our view on a few things aren’t the same at all. And where as I wanna chill, she wants to go out and shit. I mean I like going out but, sometimes quality time at him is a better move. 

Feeling my phone vibrate in my phone, I stopped, turning around to see the security car behind me stop as well. Raising the phone to my ear I cleared my throat and began to speak.

Michael: Wassup Johnathan.

Johnathan: Hey man, you got a second

I looked at my watch. This was my don’t disturb hours, but obviously homie had something important to say.

Michael: Yeah wassup

Johnathan: Do you know a Kianna De La Oz?

I didn’t even need time to remember the name. First of all, she’s a well know hairstylist. From LA, to ATL, to NY, to Miami, country wide, she’s a big deal. Oh, and we use to mess around before me and Lori became a item. After I told her I was in a relationship, she dipped out. I still regret that day. I had feelings for her, and no doubt cared about her. 

She didn’t want a relationship on public display though, and that bothered me. I should have went about shit differently. I haven’t heard from her in like 3 years I think.

Michael: Yeah, I know her

Johnathan: Yeah well, she reached out to me through my friend which is also her sister, saying she has a 3 year old daughter by you.

I stopped. Laughing to myself, I rubbed the top of my head. A lot of shit started running through my head. Lori, this child, and seeing Kianna again after years. Damn.

Michael: Uh... damn... uhm

Johnathan: We don’t need  to react at all until there’s a DNA test in place and we confirm it.

I nodded. Not that I needed a DNA test. Kianna was never that type of female. She was too involved in her work to fuck around on me like i did on her. Lori still doesn’t know that while we were in the talking phase I was fucking someone else.

Michael: Just um.... text me her number.

Johnathan: Okay

Hanging up, I exhaled and continued jogging. 

Kianna

So I did it, I allowed Kendall to reach out to her friend, then I spoke with him. It was time to receive help, her father’s help. And besides that I know how much I adore my father, so no matter how me and Mike ended, I’d hate for her to miss out on that type of love. 

Sadly though, that was this morning, and I still haven’t heard back from either Johnathan or Mike, so I’m not really even worrying about it. I am however happy it’s Friday. This weekend is my weekend off. Ima find something for me and my girl to do.

“Did you have a better day today?”

I questioned AnnDrew, looking at her in my rear view. She nodded with a bright smile as we pulled up to Starbucks. One thing another is she’ll tell on her self. When she was spitting and shit she started crying as soon as I walked into her classroom door.

She be knowing when she’s wrong which is why she get’s her ass beat. She knows thoroughly right from wrong. I don’t spare her.

“Good baby. And you need to keep it that way, understand me?”

“Yes mommy?”

Pulling up to the window, I rolled down my window and prepared to place my order.

“Welcome to Starbucks! What can we get for you today?”

Looking at the menu, I took my time as if I ain’t been to this shit before.

“Hey, can I get a Birthday cake pop as well as 2 Vanilla Bean Frap’s. One mini and the other venti. Also can you add caramel to both”

“Yes ma’am absolutely. You’re total is $9.35″

“Thank you”

Pulling up for the next person to order, my phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number, thinking it could be family or something, I answered.

Kianna: Hello

Michael: KiKi. It’s Michael

My stomach dropped and my heart began to race. Calming my breathing and the thoughts that were beginning to overwhelm me, I took a deep breath and responded.

Kianna: Uh hey.. hey

Getting to the window, I stumbled getting out my card to pay for my stuff. 

Michael: Wassup. Are you able to meet up. Or can I come by.

This was not the reaction I was expecting. But then again, he knew just the fuck better. One thing I’m not is a hoe, he can look at AnnDrew and dead see that she’s all him. She has my hair, that’s about it.

“Here you go. Have a good day”

“You too”

I spoke grabbing the drinks and cake-pop. Handing Kenya her snack, I exhaled and pulled off.

Kianna: I... umm.... You can...we

Michael: I’ll just come by. Send me your address

Kianna: Okay

Quickly hanging up, I calmed down a bit then looking back at AnnDrew who could give not a shit about anything as she tore her cake-pop up.

7:04 pm

"Whose that on TV?”

I questioned Kenya. This was usually my time to not only watch her favorite shows but test her knowledge, pick her brain and brush up on her conversation skills.

“Dat’s poppy?”

I gave her a surprised face watching as she continued eating from her bag of chips.

“Poppy. Okay, and what color is her hair”

“Ummm... pink”

I smiled, leaning in to kiss her cheek. Returning back to the TV, I then heard the doorbell. It was him. My heart began to race and my stomach dropped once again. Getting myself together, I got up and walked to the front door. Opening it, there he stood with his security in the driveway.

I didn’t say anything, I just stepped to the side. Walking in, he looked around closing the door behind him then following me into the kitchen. Kenya could give a damn, she was in her own world. Didn’t even budge.

Leading him to the kitchen, I handed him a water bottle and we sat at the island. There was a silence, and I watched as he looked over at Kenya he in between her falling asleep ate a few chips.

“Why didn’t you tell me about her?”

“Come on now. You was in a whole relationship. Let’s not forget that part”

He shrugged, allowing his eyes to land on me.

“Still, I would have dropped everything for ya’ll, for her”

I scoffed.

“Listen, my reason was valid. To protect you, me and her. I didn’t want her twisted up in shit, I didn’t want people in my business, and I didn’t want to smear your name”

It’s crazy how even when we’re hurt, we still seem to try and protect black men. I could have aired him out, went to court and all. But one day my daughter would see the hostility, so I opted to not take it that far. 

“So what we gonna do?”

I shrugged. I’ve never shared her before, this was new to me.

“I don’t know. I’m all she knows”

“Well I wanna get to know her as well. I have a part in that. I’m her father”

I nodded. 

“How about this. Talk to your girlfriend about it, this is more than us. Talk to her, come and visit her every day. Stop by her school. let her get use to you. Then we can talk about her spending time with you”

[waywardaardvark79]

Check Yes or No Part 13: My Turn to be Brave

Summary: You've been best friends with Dean Winchester since childhood. When you finally realize what's been in front of you this entire time will secrets threaten to destroy what you have before it really even begins.

Pairing: Dean x reader

Warnings: None

                                               3 months later

          You had been away from your home, your business, and your friends for three months, and if you were completely honest with yourself the time had done nothing to heal your wounds. You kept in regular contact with Charlie and Benny. Charlie constantly reassuring you that everything with the shop was fine, and Benny keeping you updated on the one thing you really cared about, Dean. Benny told you that he really only saw Dean at work. He said he would come in, do the job, and go home. Benny said Dean didn't talk about anything, but the job. He never mentioned you, and if your name was brought up in conversation he would quickly excuse himself. You weren't surprised, but hoped that when the baby came , which should be any day now, he would put all of his focus on her, and forget about you. 

       Your days were monotonous at best. You got a shit job at a little 24/7 diner working the night shift. You went to work, and then slept the day away, never really venturing from the spare room Ashley and Stephen so graciously let you use. They tried to get you to go out and do things with them when you were free, but you always had an excuse ready. You kept telling yourself to take it one day at a time and that it would eventually get better, but no matter how many days passed it never got better. The hurt was still just as fresh as the day you left Lawrence.

 You couldn't count the amount of times that your finger hovered over his contact information in your phone, wanting so badly to just press it and talk to him, but you knew your words would have no effect on him. You had hurt him too badly. You thought about deleting his contact information, and all of the old text messages between the two of you all together, not that it would do any good. His phone number was embedded into your memory, and the texts were the one little piece of him that you had left. So, the end result was the same every time. You would stare at his number and messages, willing yourself to just get rid of it this time, but would quickly fold and tuck your phone safely away, promising yourself that you would do it the next time. 

That was your life. Three months without your constant, your other half, and you were starting to fall apart. The only person that could put the pieces back together wanting nothing to do with you. You were lost, the beacon of light that usually guided you gone, and you didn't know if you would be able to find your way back this time. 

                    Back in Lawerence

          It had been three months since you had left. Three months that Dean cursed himself for the things that he said in anger, and not convincing you to stay. Three months of the never ending shit show that had become his life, and he was tired. He was lost. The bridge between the two of you in ruin, seemingly irreparable, and he didn't know if he had it in him to even attempt to  fix it.

          He often found himself staring at his phone. Your smiling face looking up at him, wanting so badly to call you and tell you everything that had happened. He wanted to tell you how Sam had came a couple of weeks ago, and showed Lisa the paperwork for the civil lawsuit he planned to file in order to get a court ordered paternity test. He wanted to tell you how she quickly caved since Sam had backed her into a corner, and confessed that the baby wasn't his. He wanted to tell you that he almost told her to stay just so he wouldn't be alone, but Sam managed to talk some sense into him, so he sat by without a word and watched as she packed her things and left. 

He just wanted to talk to you, but no matter how many times Sam told him to reach out he could never finish dialing your number. He always erased everything when he was one number away, knowing deep down the damage had already been done, and no matter how badly he wanted to fix it, he couldn't.

       So, he did what he always did when his mind was overwhelmed with thoughts of you. He snatched up his keys and drove. No where in particular, he just drove, trying his best to out run your memory, but he never seemed to be able to go fast or far enough. You were still there, embedded into the very soul of him, coursing through his veins, and wedging yourself into his heart. You were a part of him, and without you he didn't seem to be able to function completely. Tired of trying to outrun you, he let his heart guide him and steer the wheel, knowing before his mind could register exactly where he was going.

         Dean pulled up in front of the scrap yard, and cut his engine. Muscle memory guiding him exactly where he wanted to go. He came to a stop a few feet away from the old truck and smiled, hundreds of memories washing over him at once.

 He walked over to the driver's side door and pulled it open, a loud creak echoing out through the empty yard. He slid into the seat and immediately noticed the box sitting in the passenger side. He knew you had put it there. No one else would have. He started to reach for it but quickly recoiled, afraid of what was inside. So, he sat there, hands on the wheel staring straight ahead, allowing himself to glance at the box out of the corner of his eye every few minutes. Temptation finally got the better of him, and he pulled the box towards him. He took a deep breath, slowly exhaled, and opened it. 

It was crammed full, a white envelope with his name in your familiar script laying on top. He picked it up and turned it over in his hands before sitting it on the dash, deciding to look at everything else first, not sure if he was ready for your words. He took his time and looked at every single item in the box. The pictures that chronicled your lives together, starting in early childhood and ending with the one his Mom had taken at her anniversary party, the last picture of the two of you together. 

He read through every note and letter, most containing silly, mundane things, but some contained things that made his heart ache for you even more. He looked at every random object that would have no meaning to anyone else, but meant the world to you. A rock he had given you when you were kids because it was kind of shaped like a heart, a little stuffed purple elephant, now ragged with age, that he had won you at a carnival, an old broken keychain that he had given you the day you got your driver's license, a mixed cd that he made you, and the memories of the entire summer you refused to listen to  anything else ,but it whenever you were in your car, just to name a few. 

He came to the bottom of the box and there it was. Now yellowed and wrinkled with age, but he would recognize it anywhere. The very first note you had ever written. The one that started it all. He carefully picked it up, the green and purple messy writing, and the way you misspelled friend staring him in the face, and flooding him with an overwhelming amount of emotion. He smiled to himself, and carefully laid it to the side.

 He placed everything back in the box until he was faced with two things, your first and last words to him. He picked up the envelope and slowly opened it, trying to prepare himself for what was inside. He gently unfolded the paper and started to read.

            Dean,

     I don't know if you will ever read this. I'm pretty sure you won't. I'm sure you aren't interested in anything I have to say, but on the off chance that you do I just need to say a few things. I'm so sorry, for everything. I don't know if you will ever understand just how hard it is for me to leave you behind. As cheesy and chick flicky  (I know, no chick flick moments) as it sounds, you are a part of me and I don't know how I am going to function without you. We are sort of creepily codependent, but I wouldn't have it any other way. I just need you to know that I am trying to do what I think is best, no matter how much it hurts. I know you think that I don't want you, and that I don't love you, but that is the furthest thing from the truth. I want you and love you more than anything, and it kills me to do this. I just hope that one day you can see that I was only trying to do the right thing even if I went about it in a really fucked up way. I hope that one day you can forgive me. I know that you said I lied when I said we were forever, but De, I NEED  you to know that it will always be forever for me. No matter what you decide, no matter if I ever hear from you again, you are it for me. You'll always be my forever. I love you.

                                               Y/N

        Dean re-read the letter a few times, wiping away the few stray tears that had fallen, then it hit him. He knew exactly what he had to do. He quickly called Benny even though he was pretty sure he knew exactly where you were, he wanted to sure. Benny confirmed your whereabouts. The wheels were spinning in his head, everything he needed to do coming together. He grabbed the first note you had written him, carefully folded it, and placed it in his pocket before exiting the old truck and heading to his car. You were brave enough to ask the question that started it all, and he was going to brave enough to ask the question that would hopefully end this and get everything back on track. 

            Ashley and Stephen's house

         Your shift at the diner was finally over, and you drove back to Ashley and Stephen's.  You got out of your car and walked inside as quietly as you could, knowing they liked to sleep in on Saturday. 

You walked into your room and gently closed the door, collapsing face first onto your bed, not even caring to change out of the stupid pale yellow waitressing uniform that you had to wear. You managed to kick off your shoes and pull the cover haphazardly over your body before slipping into unconsciousness. 

A knock on your door pulled you from sleep. You rolled over and glanced at the alarm clock, 10:17 AM. Ashley's voice drifted over to you, "Y/N, get up. Someone's here to see you." she  said. 

You pulled the cover up over your head and grumbled, "Sleepin'. Tell em' to go away." 

"I think you really want to see them." she  said. 

You didn't reply, just silently willed her to go away. You suddenly felt the covers being ripped from your body. "What the fuck, Ashley?" you asked. 

"Get up, and go downstairs." she  ordered. 

You sighed, "Fine." 

You stumbled out of bed, your uniform wrinkled, the strings of the apron still around your waist, coming untied. You didn't bother trying to make yourself look decent, figuring it was just someone from the diner wanting you to pick up an extra shift, although why they couldn't call you didn't understand.

 You shuffled down stairs, Ashley on your heels, and looked around the empty living room. You quickly turned to face her, "If this was some bullshit stunt to get me out of bed to do something I'm gonna kill you. After which, I will be returning to bed. You started to head back up the stairs, but her hand on your shoulder stopped you.

 "On the porch." was all she said as she walked by you and into the kitchen. 

The front door was open, leaving just the screen door between you and this mysterious guest. You inched over to the door to peak out and your heart stopped when you saw him. He had walked down the front steps and was currently pacing back and forth on the little walkway leading up to the porch. You pinched yourself, afraid that this was all a dream, but he was still there. You weren't prepared for this. You needed time to figure out what to say. You started to turn around and head for the stairs when Ashley cleared her throat. She was leaning against the kitchen doorway, pointing to the porch with a stern look on her face. You knew she wasn't going to let you run and hide. It was time to face him. 

          You pushed open the screen door, hoping to go unnoticed for a moment, but the creaking of the door gave away your presence. He stopped dead in his tracks when he heard it.

 You slowly walked down the few steps, coming to a stop a couple of feet away from him, still unable to meet his gaze. You felt his eyes on you, but neither one of you made a move to speak. You finally forced yourself to look up, and take him in. The dark blue jeans and gray t-shirt he was wearing hung a little loosely on his frame. He looked worn and tired, a few days stubble gracing his cheeks, the green eyes you loved no longer shining, but dull. You finally noticed the red string that he held in his hand. It was wrapped so tightly around his fingers that they were starting to turn white. You followed the string up above his head, and that's when you saw it. A giant teddy bear balloon, just like the one he let go when you were kids, floating above his head. You felt your mouth open a little in shock, but before you could say anything he cleared his throat. "Y/N, I have a few things I need to say, and I need you to just let me get everything out before you say anything. Is that ok?" he asked. You nodded your head and tried to prepare yourself. 

      He cleared his throat one more time, shook off his nerves, and looked you directly in the eye, "These last three months have been hell. Every minute that you have been gone has been unbearable. You were right, you know. Sammy backed Lisa into a corner and she finally admitted that the kid wasn't mine. You know I almost asked her to stay just so I wouldn't be alone because I knew that I ran you off. Don't worry Sammy took up your job and talked some sense into me. He also tried to get me to call you I don't know how many times, but I was too scared. I was too scared to face you. I was scared that you wouldn't talk to me, but I found your letter and the box and decided I needed to be the brave one this time. I know that you were only trying to do what you thought was right. I still don't completely agree with how you went about it, but I understand. I also know I told you to go, but I need you. I've always needed you." 

You watched as he started to nervously bounce a little, "Like the time when we were eight and Ralph Bennett stole my new baseball glove. You came over to play and I told you what happened. You marched over to his house with your little bat cocked on your shoulder and whacked him right in the shin with it and got my glove back. When Michael made fun of me for being afraid of the dark you socked him in the nose and made him cry, then told him if he didn't leave me alone you would tell everyone a girl made him cry. You took the blame when me and Sammy broke the basement window because you didn't want me to get in trouble and would rather you did. In high school when I finally got up the nerve to ask Cassie Robinson to prom and she turned me down, you went with me instead, and I had the best time. I also know you didn't accidentally spill that punch on her dress." 

The corner of your mouth turned up at the memory. He was right. It definitely wasn't an accident. "Anytime I have ever felt not good enough or not smart enough for not going to college like Sammy you have been there to pick me up, and tell me that I was perfect just the way I was. You have only ever supported and loved me unconditionally, even though the love was tough at times. So, I came here today to tell you that I am so hopelessly in love with you. My life is incomplete without you. You said in your letter that I was a part of you. Well, the same goes for me sweetheart, and I'm finding it hard to function without you. I need you, Y/N. I need you more than I've ever needed anything, and I came here today to tell you that I don't want to just be friends. I don't want a trial period. I want forever, and I just need you to tell me yes or no." 

He sucked in a deep breath and slowly exhaled, waiting on your reply. You stood there for a moment completely speechless and unable to move. You looked at him one last time before quickly turning on your heel and heading back inside the house. 

        Dean stood, frozen in place, and watched as you ran inside the house. You didn't say a word to him, just turned and ran inside like you couldn't get away from him fast enough. He hung his head, you had obviously given him his answer. 

He started to turn and head back to his car when the slamming of the screen door stopped him. He turned to see you rushing down the front steps, coming to an abrupt stop in front of him. 

You were out of breath as you held out of folded piece of paper in front of you. He slowly raised his hand and grabbed it, keeping his eyes on your face , trying to read you. He looked down at the paper in his hand and soon realized that it was an envelope. It was Ashley and Stephen's cable bill. "Open it." you  whispered. He looked at you for a moment, relishing the sound of your voice. He opened it, what he thought was coffee staining the back of it, but quickly focused in on the word you had written. Yes. He focused on those three letters, over flowing with joy at the simple word. He never knew he could love one word so much. 

        You watched as he folded the envelope and placed it in his back pocket. He finally looked up at you, tears welling up in his eyes, and pulled you to him. His hands quickly framed  your face and he kissed you with wild abandon. He poured everything he had had into the kiss, and you eagerly returned it. 

He finally pulled away, his need for air winning out. He ran his thumb across your cheekbone and started to speak when he noticed you weren't looking at him. You were looking up over his shoulder. He quickly spun around and focused on the diminishing teddy bear floating across the horizon. He had been so wrapped up in you that he didn't even noticed he let go, just like he did when you were kids. "God damn it. It took me forever to find that thing. Y/N, I'm so sorry. I'll get you.." 

You quickly cut him off by wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your lips to his. "I don't care about the balloon as long as I got you." you  said. 

"Well, you got me forever sweetheart." You smiled brightly up at him and kissed him again. "I love you so much." he  whispered against your lips.

 You pulled back to  look at him, "I love you too, De."

[jawnjendes]

dive into the dark | shawn mendes

chapter 11/?, university au, shawn x goth oc

AN: sry for the delay summertime depression has come with a vengeance lulz have some angsty comfort

***let me know if you wanna be added/removed from the taglist

masterlist | playlist

“There once was a boy named Shawnie, destined to be a star.”

Why was that the last straw? Why was a photo of Stella, Shawn, and Camila dressed as Hogwarts students at a Halloween party the thing to send Annalise spiraling? What about that measly little Instagram post possessed Annalise to text her former shrink at four in the morning?

It’s not like she wanted to go to any of the stupid parties on campus. In the past, she and Patrick would hang out in a cemetery and be with the dead. Yes, she gave in to those goth stereotypes sometimes too. Annalise justified it by claiming she was celebrating Dia de los Muertos. This year, however, she just stayed in the dorm by herself, her own Hogwarts outfit sitting in her closet, making no noise and pretending it doesn’t exist. She was alone long enough for everything to come down on her, and the photo of her friends and not-boyfriend all but broke her to pieces.

So on November first, Annalise found herself in Callie’s office. It wasn’t hard getting herself to go there; Therapy had been a constant in her life for a year, and she missed it. She knew she had things to get off her chest, but it stalled when she was actually sat in front of Callie, who was quite happy to see her.

“It’s been a few months, hasn’t it?” she said, smiling warmly. “Where were we the last time you were here?”

Annalise shrugged. “I had exams going on, and I was picking out classes and a dorm for the next semester.”

“Right. And you’re in between classes now if I remember from your text. So all that went well, I assume?”

“Yeah. Still in school. Still working.”

Callie nodded. She hadn’t written anything on her clipboard yet. “I don’t mean to pry, but I also heard you were in the hospital for a bit?”

“Did Shawn tell you that?” Annalise’s polite tone changed. “He’s always telling everyone my business.”

Surprisingly, Callie wasn’t bothered by the sudden mood change. “I believe you told me over text. We had to pause our sessions because you were in recovery.”

“Oh. Oh yeah. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get all snappy.” She went red.

“It’s alright. So, would you like to talk about what happened in the hospital?”

That was all the first session was: hospital talk. Annalise knew this story like the back of her hand, but it was less annoying telling it again because Callie already knew the stuff about the pre-existing health problems. It’s on reason why Annalise started therapy in the first place.

“Now, whenever my mom or dad call me, a majority of the conversation is about what I’m eating,” she explained. “Or what I should be eating. And Shawn constantly reminds me not to skip meals. I know I’m sick, but it gets so annoying sometimes. I know my body, and I know what I’m feeling.”

“Okay, hang on,” Callie said, holding up a hand to stop her. “You refer to yourself as sick?”

Annalise had to think about it. It came out of her mouth, but she never really processed that she was saying it. “Yeah. That’s how my parents always put it since it all started, I guess I picked it up from them.”

“Well, I - and I’m sure plenty of other people - don’t see you as sick. You were in the hospital, you had surgery, and now you’re fine. Ann, if you keep referring to yourself as a sick person, it will have an impact on your mental wellbeing. You are not sick, you have a chronic sickness.”

For some reason, that hit in the very center of Annalise’s chest. If she was cracked from the Instagram photos, then this practically burst the dam. She nodded, processing Callie’s words, but one part stuck out to her.

“I am fine now. It wasn’t a life threatening case, anyway.”

“Well, you did bleed internally after the first surgery,” Callie corrected. “And you had an infection on the incisions after. That’s not nothing. That’s very dangerous, and life threatening.”

“But it wasn’t that bad. They caught it in time, and I don’t even remember what it felt like. Besides, it’s not like I have cancer or anything.” Annalise paused and looked down. “Everything went fine, despite the infections and near death. I’m back to doing what I did before, but I feel… I didn’t die, but it feels like a part of me did.”

Callie now wrote on her clipboard, her pen scribbling being the only sound in the room. Then, she trailed her green eyes over to Annalise. “And it’s okay to feel that way. Putting your life in the hands of anyone, including medical professionals, makes you very vulnerable as it is. Adding surgery to that only adds to the vulnerability, not to mention it is invasive and can be quite traumatizing.”

“Helpless and dependent too,” Annalise added, picking at her nails. “Practically useless.”

“Let’s not say useless, okay? You needed help. You were recovering for surgery, it was for your own wellbeing.”

She shrugged, not exactly agreeing with that statement despite the truth in it. “I just don’t like depending on people.The nurses always pushed me to move on my own without disturbing the incisions, but I could never bring myself to do it. I knew I had to so I could properly heal, but I felt so lazy and weak. I felt like a sack of potatoes, having to be physically moved everywhere.”

There were times Callie would react to things her clients said. This was one of those times. She chuckled and raised her eyebrows. “A sack of potatoes?”

Annalise smiled timidly. “Yeah…”

That settled the homework Annalise was left with. She had to cut the harmful words out of her vocabulary. She was not useless. She was not lazy. She was most certainly not a sack of potatoes.

She felt okay during the session, but as soon as she was back in her car, Annalise felt the weight slam on her chest. As she drove back to campus, she started to remember things that she didn’t even know were in her head. She noticed the difference in a nurse who worked in the day versus the night. One was much perkier than the other. She never saw the same nurse twice during the entire stay. She couldn’t even count the amount of people who lifted up her gown to examine the incisions, much less the people who actually asked if they could expose her like that.

Heart pounding, Annalise moved a shaking hand towards the radio, turning up the volume and letting the sounds of 5SOS soothe her anxious state.

~

Today wasn’t supposed to be spent alone in the apartment, serenading a cat. Shawn loved Henry to bits and pieces, but this wasn’t the lady he was supposed to be spending time with. He appreciated that she didn’t run when he sang. Or shit all over his romantic gesture. She did shit right next to her litter box, though, and that was annoying to deal with.

“I can’t see one thing wrong between the both of us…” he trailed off, strumming his guitar. Then he sighed; That line didn’t age well.

Henry tilted her round head at the sound of the guitar. It was entertaining to watch, but not enough to make Shawn laugh or even smile. She jumped down from the top of the couch cushion and down to the carpet, stretching her limbs before scurrying over to the condo. Shawn watched her and then let his head fall back to the arm of the couch. He strummed an entirely different song.

“Beggin’ to hear your voice… tell me you love me too…”

He nearly fell off the couch when his phone went off, going from zero to one hundred in less than a second. He was still on the waiting game with both work and the live lounge, and the possibility of either of these places calling him back was enough to make him chuck his guitar across the room. He didn’t, though, he just hastily set it down as he answered the phone call without even looking at the ID.

He really should have. Let’s just say, Shawn was George O’Malley, and the voice on the other line was a fucking bus.

“Shawn?”

“Ann?”

A small pause. Then, she spoke very fast, before Shawn could even process what the fuck was happening. “I know we’re supposed to be fighting or not talking to each other, I know I’m supposed to be mad at you - and I still am - but, uh… I… I’m - can we call a truce? Just for an hour or two?”

He almost said yes in a heartbeat, but he caught himself. “What do you mean by truce? What’ll happen during those hours?”

Ann’s hesitation meant that she knew he was talking about the previous check ins. “It’s not like that. I promise. It’s just… something’s kind of happening, and I don’t think I can deal with it by myself.”

“You need to be more specific. What’s going on?”

“I’m in pain. Physical pain.”

Now it was Shawn’s turn to stay quiet. “Oh…”

Needless to say, Ann came over. For once, she was in sweatpants instead of her pajama bottoms. She also had on a black hoodie with the words “Positive Mental Attitude” on the sleeves. Her long, dark hair was down but very unkempt, and her olive skin was looking paler than normal.

The first thing Shawn did was feel her forehead for a fever. Ann made a small noise at the gesture, her brows furrowing.

“Sorry,” he said, taking his hands away. “I was just checking.”

She sighed as she let herself into the living room. “You remind me of my mother more and more every day. Not even a hello, just straight with the touching and worrying.”

Shawn resisted rolling his eyes. Didn’t she understand he did that because he cares? “How come you didn’t just go straight to the doctor?”

“It’s not excruciating,” she replied. “It’s bothersome, and it’s definitely there. But it’s not keeping me from doing anything.”

“Is it the same pain as before? In your abdomen?”

Ann shook her head, growing a little timid. “It’s around my ovaries. Pelvic pain.”

“You period?”

“Already passed. I’ve been feeling this for two days.”

Shawn tried very hard not to flip out. He resisted the urge to grab her by the shoulders and shake her. She’s been in pain for a whole forty eight hours and she hasn’t done anything about it? This is exactly how it happened last time.

“So again,” he said, attempting to sound calm, “why don’t you just go to the doctor? Why are you here of all places?”

Ann had been looking at her hands the entire time. But when she locked her tired eyes with Shawn’s, he knew just how serious and important her next statement was.

“I can’t face the doctor alone.”

“You want me to go with you.” It wasn’t a question. Shawn was just able to pull the words out of her.

“Please?” she asked. “I know things are off right now but you’re the only one I can count on. You’re the only one who’s seen this side of me.”

Shawn would be lying if he said that didn’t tug on his heartstrings. Ann needs him, and she is admitting to that. But one thing stuck out in his mind; She had been asking a lot of him. She asked him for the separation, to be patient with her, and now this.

But it seems like Ann knows how to pull things out of him too. “You said you would make it up to me. This would help.”

Then again, when did she ever ask Shawn for help?

Ann insisted on driving, but Shawn dragged her into his Jeep. She navigated the way to her gyno, bouncing her legs on the way. That was when Shawn noticed that the serious faced, composed-by-nature girl was long gone. When did she lose that part of herself? That fundamental part of who she is seemed to fade away over the last few months, and Shawn was only now catching onto that? No wonder she was so angry at him all the time. It was a cry for help.

“What do you think it is?” he asked her. “The pain?”

“I don’t know. That’s what’s got me kinda worried,” she replied. “I’ve never felt this before. Google said they might be cysts that have to be surgically removed, so I stopped looking.”

Kinda worried? She was scared, scared to the point where she needed someone with her. Meaning, Shawn had to remain calm and collected, despite being worried himself.

“It’s probably nothing major,” he said, still managing to follow the voice from the Maps app on Ann’s phone. “They’ll prescribe you something, and you’ll be fine.”

“That’s what you said last time.”

Shawn took a quick glance at her. She wasn’t exactly wrong. Nothing more was said until Shawn had pulled into the parking lot of the clinic. He shut off the engine and took off his seatbelt, properly turning to face Ann.

“Hey, look at me.”

Slowly, her head turned towards him, like she was hesitating. Shawn wanted to hold her hand or cup her cheek, but it was hard to tell what was allowed her.

“No matter what happens,” he told her, “you will be okay. You will come out of this.”

He stood by her as she spoke to the receptionist. He sat with her in the waiting room as she filled out three different forms on a clipboard. Shawn wondered how she wasn’t confused by any of the questions; He always needed his mom or dad with him at any appointment to help him.

The wait wasn’t long once Ann turned in the paperwork. A nurse called her back, and Ann gestured for Shawn to follow.

“How are you, Ms. Flores?” the nurse asked as she led them down a blank, white corridor.

“Swell,” she replied in a way that did not sound swell.

“Right in here.” She turned the corner and gestured to a small room. “We’re just going to take a little bit of blood. The physician will be right with you.”

Ann silently went and sat in the big chair next to the counter with all the blood taking tools. She sat back like it was second nature. Shawn merely stood against the back wall, unsure of what to do with himself. This room was clearly made for two people, and he wasn’t supposed to be one of them.

Finally, a woman in a white lab coat entered the room, putting on a pair of latex gloves. She smiled warmly. “Let’s get this show on the road! Now which one of you is Annalise Marie Flores?”

“I don’t have a middle name,” Ann told her, very much not on the same level as the perky medic.

She pointed at her. “That was a test to verify your name, and you passed! Now I just need you to verify your date of birth!”

“Twelve. Twenty seven. Ninety seven.” Still not amused, but Shawn was. The two different energies was almost comical.

The physician approached the counter as she got her tubes and needle ready as she continued speaking. “A fellow Capricorn. That’s the best sign. Except I was born on Christmas Eve so my birthday was always overlooked.”

Ann only nodded, visibly disinterested.

“So, which arm are you gonna let me poke?” the physician asked.

“Whichever has the best vein,” she simply replied.

It was like a script Ann had memorized. How many times had she done this in the past?

Shawn looked at the floor as soon as Ann was stuck with the needle. It was a good minute of listening to the physician hum to herself before she finally acknowledged Shawn.

“Here for moral support?”

“Pretty much,” he replied, keeping his eyes on his boots. “She asked me to come, I couldn’t say no.”

“Friendship goals, right there.”

He smiled, despite the pang of annoyance that struck his chest. Was the rift between them that obvious?

“Alright, let’s get a look at your battle wound.” She wrapped up Ann’s arm in cotton and gauze. “So, your results will be ready in a few minutes, and I’ll be back to go over them and see where to go from there!”

“Okay,” was all Ann had to say.

“Thank you,” Shawn told the lady before she left.

Ann let her head fall back against the chair as soon as they were alone. She sighed heavily and closed her eyes. “I liked that lady, she was cool.”

Shawn chuckled. “Yeah, you guys acted like such best friends.”

“Well, at least she knows Capricorns are superior.”

“You act like you’ve never met a Leo.”

For the first time today, Ann cracked a smile. She opened her eyes and looked at him. “I know your act of having your shit together is exactly that.”

Maybe astrology wasn’t all bullshit. Shawn wanted to say something to prove her wrong, but then he would be proving her point at the same time.

“Yeah, well…” he trailed off, making Ann grin even wider.

It was good to see that, so he let it slide.

Another few minutes went by and a different woman in a lab coat entered the room. It was a lady in her 30s, blonde hair, kind but professional face. Her presence made Ann visibly perk up.

“Hello, Ms. Flores,” the doctor said with a smile. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you.”

"Dr. Pacini," Ann greeted. "I didn't think you would be here, I kind of came at the last minute."

"Well, I heard you were here, and I had a look at your blood test results." She stopped herself and placed her hands on her hips, acknowledging Shawn. "Is this the boyfriend you told me about?"

Ann nodded silently.

"Hi," Shawn greeted, holding his hand out. He couldn't ignore the tiny jump his heart did hearing that Ann talked about him.

"Nice to meet you," Dr. Pacini said, shaking his hand. Then she turned back to Ann. "So it's okay that he's in here while we discuss your results?"

"Yeah, absolutely."

The blood test showed that Ann's hormones were completely unbalanced, and apparently that wasn’t anything new. She was very high in testosterone, and that was when Shawn learned that women could actually produce that hormone. What was news to Ann was that she was also anemic and low in potassium. Then they discussed her irregular menstrual cycle (another thing Shawn didn’t know about), and more personal information was taken in. Ann really wanted Shawn here to witness this? She could barely talk about her day without thinking she was oversharing.

"Were there any changes with your birth control?" Dr. Pacini asked.

"I missed some doses when I was in the hospital," Ann replied, suddenly timid. “And a few doses after I was discharged.”

“How many exactly?”

She looked down and mumbled. “Three months…”

"And that is plenty of time for new cysts to form on your ovaries. So if it's alright with you, I'd like to do a pelvic exam and a vaginal ultrasound."

Shawn knew Ann so well that the split second pause meant that this is what she had been afraid of. He finally stepped towards the chair she was sitting in, silently letting her know he was there.

"It's entirely up to you," Dr. Pacini said, "but I strongly suggest it. It would give us the chance to rule out anything serious."

Ann nodded. "Um… do I have to make another appointment and come back another time?"

"No, we can get it all done today."

"Oh-kay, then."

Dr. Pacini led them out of the room and down the hallway. Ann looked at Shawn as they went, anything but masking composure. He placed his hand on the small of her back as they walked into a different observation room.

“So on a scale of one to ten, how intense is the pain?” Dr. Pacini asked.

“About a six,” Ann replied. “I can function, but I can’t ignore it.”

“Got it. So just strip from the waist down, lie down on the chair, and we’ll get started.”

Ann wanted Shawn to sit closer as she was examined, so he did. The only reason why this was weird was because Ann did not like being this vulnerable in front of anyone, even Shawn. That, and she was still apparently fuming from their last fight, yet something about all of this made her reach out to him in need. He played with her hair as he tried yet again to understand the way her mind works.

Dr. Pacini noticed the tiny gesture. “How long have you two been together?”

Not surprisingly, Ann didn’t say anything. She wouldn’t be the one to say they were together at a time like this, pelvic exam aside.

“One year today,” Shawn answered anyway.

“Well, congratulations.” Dr. Pacini smiled.

Ann looked at him, now distracted from what was going on downstairs. “One year?”

“Yeah. November seventh. Took you on a date to the coffee shop.”

“Didn’t think we’d spend our anniversary like this.”

He knew she meant that in more ways than one. Shawn didn’t think he would be here either, hanging onto the tiny thread Ann had provided. And to think he really thought about the idea of considering ending things permanently… He was a sucker for her.

“Okay, my dear,” Dr. Pacini said, sitting up straight. “Onto the ultrasound.”

“Anything weird down there?” Ann asked with a nervous chuckle.

“I did detect some bumps on your ovaries, so I need to get a better look at what exactly those are.” She held up a long, thin… thing. “Just like the pelvic exam, it’ll be uncomfortable but not painful.”

Shawn chose not to look directly at it for more than a second. He kept his eyes on Ann’s anxious face as the ultrasound began. He had so many questions: Was this her first vaginal ultrasound? How many times has she come to see Dr. Pacini in the past? How long was she on birth control? What reproductive disorder did she have that required her to take birth control? Why did they ever use condoms if she was already on birth control?

It took a bit longer to get the results for the ultrasound, making Ann stay hauntingly quiet as she got dressed again. Shawn really didn’t know what to say that wasn’t any of the questions circling his head. When Dr. Pacini came back with the results, she deemed that there were in fact, new cysts forming. However, it wasn’t severe or particularly harmful, so Ann was prescribed a new birth control along with progesterone.

“That’s it?” Ann asked in disbelief. “That’s all I need?”

“That’s it,” Dr. Pacini confirmed. “If the pain persists, or gets worse, then by all means come right back. But it’s quite unlikely given where your pain level is at now. Just give it a few days and remember to breathe.”

Ann took a deep breath. It wavered as she exhaled, making Shawn rub her back.

“See? You’re gonna be fine,” he told her reassuringly.

“As long as you take your pills,” Dr. Pacini said firmly. “These are what will keep your pain from coming back. The birth control will manage the PCOS and the progesterone will help shrink the cysts. You’re usually on top of this, Annalise, can I ask what happened in the last few months?”

She shrugged, clearing her throat. Shawn knew what that meant, and he debated answering for her.

“Being in the hospital didn’t do anything for my mental health, I think,” Ann spoke softly.

Dr. Pacini looked between her and Shawn. He nodded in confirmation, trying not to externally show how much his heart was aching. Of course, the doctor asked to elaborate, so Shawn explained the surgery, the almost-death, and the second surgery. It helped her understand, and it made Ann cry in the observation room.

“I see,” Dr. Pacini said as she nodded. “Post surgical depression is very common. Clinical depression on its own can cause you to not care for yourself the way I know you can. I can’t prescribe you anything because it’s not my area of expertise, but Annalise. Look at me.”

She wiped her face with her sleeve and sniffed, her puffy, reddened eyes meeting the doctor’s.

“You will come out of this.”

The silence was loud as Shawn and Ann left the clinic. Ann read the papers Dr. Pacini had given her over and over, brows scrunched in concentration. She only stopped to get back in the car and put on her seatbelt, clearly eager to get the hell out of here.

“You made it out okay,” Shawn gently told her.

“I still have to wait and see if the pain will go away,” she grumbled as she shoved the pages into her purse. “Just like last time.”

Shawn looked at her and placed his hand on her shoulder. “Last time was different. I know you’re worried, but it doesn’t mean everything is going to repeat itself. Did you book an appointment with Callie?”

Ann was rubbing her hands together. “Yeah. I saw her last week and I’m going again tomorrow. That reminds me, I need to ask you something.”

“Anything.” Heart: racing.

Shifting in her seat, Ann sighed deeply. “Okay. I don’t expect you to remember, and it’s okay if you don’t, but do you know what antibiotics they gave me for the infection on my incisions?”

That wasn’t at all what Shawn was expecting. Then again, he had no idea what was happening with this girl lately. When did he ever?

He thought for a moment before answering. “I don’t know the name of it. I remember that it was so strong it made you nauseous. The nurses told you not to puke because then you’d be puking up the medicine. Then, they took you off your Prozac and birth control so you weren’t taking in so much at once. The priority was to control the infection.”

The memory was still heartbreaking. Ann, with her sunken eyes screwed shut, frequently wiggling her fingers and toes in an attempt to keep everything down. She didn’t want to be touched or even talked to. When that side effect wore off, it was time for another dose. It was probably torture for her. Shawn remembered telling her he was going to the cafeteria when in reality he just went to cry to his mom or dad over the phone in the bathroom.

Ann tilted her head in thought. “You remember all that?”

“You don’t?” Shawn asked. “You were like that for a good few days.”

The hand rubbing continued. “I guess it’s blocked out of my head because it was so traumatic. Anyway, I just wanted to know…” She inhaled shortly. “Because uh, Callie wanted to pinpoint um, when I stopped taking the Prozac…” She inhaled again, like she was out of breath.

Shawn noticed the sporadic movements and grew concerned. “You okay?”

Ann rapidly nodded her head, despite her short breathing. “Yeah, just… hospital talk. I, I don’t really like it but I have to talk about it. She, uh, she warned me. I’d get really - fuck - uh, the dam burst, basically.”

“It’s apart of the process.” Shawn nodded, remembering his own flood of tears when he did the work of therapy. “Hey, look at me.”

She shook her head, shoulders tense. Her voice came out low and shaky. “I can’t feel my hands.”

“Can I see?”

Her hand was trembling wildly as she shyly held it out to Shawn. He ran his thumb over her fingers, noticing her stubby chewed up nails and the tiniest speck of black polish on the index. Then, he squeezed the pressure point between her thumb and index.

Ann gasped and looked up at him.

“Felt that?” Shawn asked, and she nodded. “See, you’re okay. You’re a strong lady.”

“I’m a strong lady…”

He affectionately rubbed her hand in both of his, offering a smile. He figured it was best to distract from the scary feelings. “Remember what was happening a year ago? I took you out to that coffee shop.”

“I was nervous,” she mumbled.

“Me too. When I picked you up at your dorm, the first thing I noticed was your red eyeshadow and I thought… red is my new favorite color. I also noticed you didn’t wear the black lipstick, and I really hoped it meant that you were going to kiss me.”

Ann was already blushing from the anxiety attack, but she breathed out a tiny laugh. “I really wasn’t. The nude lip was because we were going to eat…”

“Well, I like to think that you wanted to kiss me. And you did in the end, even after you said you don’t kiss on the first date.” Shawn was tickling the palm of her hand now, running his fingers over every line.

“It was a ‘fuck it’ moment…” Ann was watching his fingers move, like it was helping her focus.

“It’s probably one of my favorite moments with you. Because then I got to know the most amazing, strongest, badass lady I’ve ever seen, and I got to call her mine.”

_______

taglist: @normalcyisoverrated-beyou @ilsolee @mendesromano @1-800-khalid-mendussy @kitykatnumber @strangerliaa @iloveshawnieboi @poppyshawn @shawnsunflower @someoneunimportantxx @ruinhoney @shawnvvmendes @calyumthomas @yourdeflightfullyleft @havethetimeeofyourlifee @shawmndes @wronglanemendes @chillingbythesea @softmendesss @mutuallynotmutual

[writersrealmbts]

Con Amore: Part 2

Bulletproof Melody Sequel

Description: Con Amore– A directive to a musician to perform a selected passage of a composition tenderly, with affectionate emotion, or in a loving manner; an instruction to the player of an instrument meaning ‘with love’ or 'lovingly’. Three years with all seven of your loves, three years of relative peace. But now everything is threatened as darkness surges from the horizon.

Originally Posted: 07/22/2019

Tags: Superheroes, Ot7

Fluff/Angst: 2,175 words

A/N: The second part! We’re getting into it now!

You carefully studied the box, noting the way to open it, but wanting to hold off on opening it, especially in front of the curators. It needed power, your power. You nodded slowly. "I recognize the work. It's not a work of Jacqueline Torrent de Cavalier, but rather a student of hers that studied her technique. It's more crude, and the value of it would be low to anyone that wasn't a collector. However, I am. As a collector, I would say it's worth somewhere around ten." The curator's face fell. "I see." The museum director chuckled nervously. "Was that an offer?" You smiled. "I'll give you eight and consider the last part of my payment." "That's more than generous, Miss." The director gestured for the curator to pack the box away for you. "You can take it directly after this if you're able to pay now." "I am. My assistant will take it to my vehicle, if that's agreeable?" "Of course, Miss." You nodded to Taehyung and followed the museum director towards his office. "What was the artist's name?" "Bernard Beaufort, he spent most of his life living a nondescript lifestyle near Salon-de-Provence, in the Languedoc-Roussilion region of France. He spent little time learning to craft as Jaqueline did, and his works were not as refined or artistic as hers. There is little more worth to them than age and novelty. However, I have a personal interest in his works." "Oh?" "He is one of my ancestors. It is the only reason I know it is his." You signed a check and handed it over to the director. "As for the contents, he put in small wooden carvings, sometimes little dolls. Nothing particularly fantastic, but fascinating to me." "We're grateful you came, Miss Y/n. Our other experts were stumped. If we find more we'll let you know." "Thank you," You replied, smiling and dipping your head slightly as you took the receipt and left the office. Taehyung was waiting beside the door, still blank-faced. Once you were both in the vehicle he glanced at you. "How much is that really worth?" "You can't put a price on artifacts. Especially ones that require super powers to be opened. The contents could be priceless and dangerous. I gave them a generous price for the actual box though, and for my services, which they were well-aware of." You buckled your seatbelt. "I knew the last part. The last museum paid you way more just for you to tell them that their painting was a forgery." "Because I've saved them much more money by discovering the forgery. Have you heard from the other boys today? Normally I have twenty texts waiting for me." You frowned at your phone. He handed you his phone to check, driving the two of you back toward the hotel. You checked his messages and call history but there was nothing new or missed. "Strange." "Try calling one of them?” You nodded and called Jimin since he pretty much always picked up. When he didn’t answer, you called Jin since you knew he wasn’t working today. Taehyung glanced at you, worry evident in his eyes. “No answer?” You shook your head and started checking the news stations. “No reports of a fight anywhere either. Maybe it’s just a coincidence.” “Or maybe it’s not.” You bit your lip. “Try calling the lair,” Tae suggested. You dialed the number, a bad feeling growing in the pit of your stomach. If this number wasn’t answered, then something was really wrong. Someone picked up, but didn’t say anything. You clicked your tongue five times, then waited for a response. A soft hiss came over the phone. You hummed and hung up. “Someone’s in the lair. Pull over and go rescue Jimin so we can get full details. Meet back at the hotel. Be careful.” He put the car in park and disappeared. You climbed over and adjusted the seat and mirrors before driving to the hotel and carrying the artifact up to the room. Tae and Jimin were already in there, Tae treating his wounds. “What happened?” You asked, setting the case down and hurrying to help Tae. “They took Jin-hyung,” Jimin whispered, looking distressed. “The others went after and Yoongi and I were making sure no one was left behind in the lair. We thought it was clear so I told Yoongi-hyung to help the others. We missed one.” “Okay, we’ll figure it out. Relax and let us treat your wounds.” You put a little melody to your words to help him. You were worried, really worried, but there wasn’t much you could do at the moment. You just had to trust that the other boys had it handled and take care of Jimin. Jimin was still fighting, but as you continued humming he started relaxing. “No fair.” “I never claimed to be,” You replied, kissing his forehead after brushing his hair from it. “Think they’ll be okay?” Taehyung asked after Jimin fell asleep. “It had to be pretty bad if they all had to help. And if they got hold of Jin-hyung—” “I know. They may have just caught Jin by surprise. I told you guys to change lair locations.” “We were packing, but we weren’t done with the new lair yet.” Tae handed you more bandaging. “Which you already know. I’ll head back and check for the others.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Be careful,” You whispered. “I’ll leave at the first sign of trouble. I’ll check in every fifteen minutes. Love you.” “Love you too.” You watched him disappear, dreading his absence and wishing him back where he was safe. You watched the time, getting more anxious as fifteen minutes approached. Your heart was pounding when fifteen minutes hit and you thought you might pass out—especially when you were startled by your phone ringing. “They’re back. We’re getting out. We need to know where to meet.” “Jin?” “No. Where?” “Next town over. I have a job there. I already have a hotel room. I’ll send details.” You started packing up the hotel room, making a plan to transport Jimin. “Should I—?” “I’ve got it handled. Help the others.” “Yes, love.” “See you soon, love.” You hung up, humming to wake Jimin. “Chubs?” He murmured, blinking blearily. “I have to move you. Can you shift?” He nodded, shifting into a small cat. You would have to rebandage him, but it seemed lik ethe bleeding had stopped at least. You shoved most of yours and Taehyung’s luggage into a store-room, but carefully situated Jimin into your backpack. “Okay?” He blinked up at you, ears flicking to confirm he was okay. You headed down to the check out, enduring some mind-numbing conversation from the receptionist, and then out to the car. You carefully set him in the passenger seat, making sure he was situated so he would get hurt by the movement of the vehicle. The drive was quiet, only the occasional forced purr from Jimin to let you know he was already and the sound of the vehicle. They were gathered in your room when you arrived. You handed Jimin off to Tae and checked over the other boys. “You’re okay?” “We’re fine,” Hoseok replied softly. “But we didn’t get Jin—” “One problem at a time, Hobi. Are any of you injured?” “Joon’s knee, but otherwise just a few scrapes. Jungkook protected us well.” Yoongi knelt on the bed beside Jimin, looking guilty. “Ah, Jiminie.” Jimin had shifted back and Taehyung was bandaging his wounds again, the shift having aggravated them slightly. He gave Yoongi a sleepy smile. “I’m okay, hyung. A little sore.” “I didn’t see anyone there. I’m so sorry, Jiminie.” You guided Namjoon to a chair, gently checking his knee. “How bad does it hurt?” “I think my pride is hurt more. They jumped us. Jin and I were talking, devising a plan for Jimin’s birthday. Well, we had been. We were also enjoying each other’s company,” He admitted in a quieter voice. “We’d both been stressed and needed to relax.” You nodded. It was normal. Joon shared his struggles with Yoongi, but sought Jimin for comfort. Especially when you were gone. “They came out of nowhere. Jin’s head was bleeding. He had pushed me out of the way even though I…usually I can sense danger. Maybe it was because I was distracted.” “It’s not your fault, Joonie,” You assured him, then put his knee back in place as you hummed a sound-proofing song. The other boys’ heads snapped towards you two as Joon yelled in pain. “Ice and elevation,” You instructed, holding his hand while Jungkook went to get ice. “You’re sidelined until I’m satisfied that you’re better.” He gave you a pained smile. “Missed you. I think.” You smiled and kissed him. “I missed you.” He winced as Jungkook propped up his leg and arranged the ice around it. “We wanted to welcome you home nicely, not like this.” You just kissed him again. There wasn’t anything you could say to comfort him, or stop him from blaming himself. He sighed, shoulders relaxing slightly under your touch. You met Jungkook’s eyes, then left Namjoon in his care as you checked on Jimin, then pulled Hoseok aside. His gaze was troubled and serious. “We dragged our feet because of sentiment and now Jin has been kidnapped, and Jiminie and Joon are both injured. Stupid. We were so stupid.” You listened to him ramble for another three or four more minutes. You watched his expressions: different combinations of worry, anger, fear, and sorrow. When he finally seemed to run out of words, you squeezed his hands. His eyes met yours. “I know,” You murmured. He took a shaky breath in. “I know.” He dropped his head to your shoulder. “What if they kill him?” You carefully stroked his hair. “I don’t think they will.” “Why?” Jungkook asked, letting you know that they were all listening. “I have a few reasons. One being that they could have done it right then and there instead of kidnapping him. But also because I like to think I’m a pretty good distraction to Namjoon, right?” Namjoon nodded emphatically. “And even distracted by me he can sense danger. So, maybe he didn’t sense danger because these people weren’t initially a threat, but they timed things wrong and panicked. Laguz and Sowilo were the only active heroes the past couple of days, it’s not hard to assume that they’re holding down the fort while the others are away, even if that’s not true.” You guided Hobi to the bed to sit. “He was disguised, right?” “Yeah, we were all disguised,” Namjoon confirmed. “Then he’s safe for now. All we can do is take care of each other and pray. Once you all are rested, I’ll see if I can find a way to locate them or see if I can sense his health” “Can’t you do it now?” Jimin asked softly. You sighed. “I need time to figure out songs. That’s why I said later.” “Don’t you have a book with songs indexed for things like this?” Yoongi asked. “No I don’t and even if I did—” Jimin frowned slightly as he cut you off, asking, “Why don’t you? I mean, you know all these songs, you even make them up but you can’t—” “I need time to calm down and rest, too! I wasn’t exactly on vacation,” You snapped. Tae winced. The silence was deafening, and none of them would look at you. You pressed back the need to shriek in frustration. “I know you’re worried, and so am I,” You forced yourself to speak gently, “We can’t do anything without rest and a plan. My priority is taking care of what I presently am able to, which is all of you. I know he’s alive, I have melodies on all of you that alert me to major injuries. It’s what I know, and it’s all I can do since you all get chronically injured and I can’t handle the constant worry. I mean, how many times have you all hurt yourselves outside of missions?” “A lot,” Jungkook answered, his voice hesitant in the quiet room. “Exactly. Now, I could be terrified for Jin, who I love as dearly as I love the rest of you, or I could make sure that I’m at my best when I kick the ass of the idiot who dared take my Jin from me. It may seem callous, but it’s the only way I am going to be able to calm myself down. He’s my love too,” You told them, tearing up in frustration. “I’d rather we were all safe and together, but we’re not. And—dear God, I feel sick…” Hoseok stood up quickly to steady you as you swayed. “Tinny?” “Toilet.” Jungkook scooped you and carried you in, making you dizzy. You weren’t sure if you made it to the toilet before heaving.

~~~~~

Part 1.   Part 3.

Masterlist.  ~  Series Masterpost.  

[bedbellyandbeyond]

Group 2

(Story Post)

“Hi! Welcome back!” “Yeah, thanks. Sorry I'm late.” Nathan had just arrived at their second group meetup. The rest were all already there which embarrassed him a bit since he was the only one who lived in the building because of his bed rest. “That's alright! No worries, we understand it's not easy to get here especially in your later terms,” Camilo said smiling and motioning to an open seat. “We haven’t officially started yet but Yori was telling us about his trip to Italy a few years ago.”

“Oh, cool. Yeah, I've never been overseas,” Nathan said easing down into his chair. “Italy looks beautiful though.” “It was!” Yori said putting his hands together. “There were so many treats and gelato everywhere and so many pretty places to have sex in.” Dari, who had been sipping a juice box, coughed a bit. Fay nodded as he rubbed his husband's back. “So true… Did you visit Florence? There's many decorative nooks and crannies there.” “Fay!” Dari snapped. “What? He's not wrong. Italy has a lot of sexually charged landscapes,” Fay said. “We should go sometime. You'd love it.” Dari blushed but didn’t say no. “I don't think it's appropriate to share one's love life in this group…” “That's fair, mon amour,” Fay said. “Yori, please tell me you took a gondola ride.” Yori shook his head. “Ruben gets seasick really easy.” “Ah… Tant pis… What a shame,” Fay sighed. “You must experience the sea everywhere you go.” “Says the merman…” Dari muttered. “We did swim in Amalfi though,” Yori said. “Oh really? Beautiful beaches,” Fay said. Nathan noticed today that Marcita was much smaller than last group. “Marcita, you had the baby?” “I did. A week ago,” Marcita said. “Healthy eight ounce baby boy.” “The parents named him Christopher,” Camilo said. “He's so cute,” Marcita said. “The chubbiest cheeks.” “How are you doing? Looks like you've recovered quick,” Nathan said. “Hah, yeah, I'm still achy everywhere, but don't get me started on my tits,” Marcita chuckled. “Mis tetas son como sacos de harina…” Camilo and Fay chuckled to themselves. Dari rolled his eyes and just leaned over to Nathan. “Hey, you’re on bed rest now, right?” “Yes, I'm pretty much confined to APID for the rest of my pregnancy,” Nathan said. “But I can still, like, go about and do things… There just isn't much to do here.” Dari nodded. “Sounds dreadful… I don't really like being here. Couldn't imagine staying overnight.” “It might be bland, but the people here are great,” Nathan said. “They do have some group activities for the residents… I guess I should join a few of those.” “Are you sleeping well, though?” Dari continued. “It's hard to sleep with multiples.” “Yeah…” Nathan rubbed his sides. “It's like they take turns staying up…” Dari nodded. “I find if I elevate my head and back, I sleep easier with multiples. It might not work for you, but you can try it.” “Sure,” Nathan said giving Dari a smile. “Thanks.” “Don't mention it.” Nathan caught Camilo beaming at them from the corner of his eye. “Sorry, were we interrupting?” “No, no! I like seeing you making friends,” Camilo said. “Sharing advice like that is exactly what this group is for.” “My last pregnancy before Christopher was twins,” Marcita said. “My poor belly was devastated but it really can spring back. I can get you guys the recipe though that I used to tighten things up.” “Sure, thanks,” Nathan accepted. “No, thanks,” Dari declined. “No?” Fay frowned. “But you could really use that, couldn't you?” “After nine years of back to back pregnancies and then another five pregnancies after that, it's a little late, don't you think?” Dari grumbled. “I've already come to terms with my stomach looking like Freddy Krueger's tumour for the rest of my life.” Fay sighed. “It wouldn't hurt to try.” “I'm attached to my scars. If you have something against the way my body is, then you shouldn't have married me.” Fay sighed and patted Dari’s headed. “You know that's not what I'm saying. I love every inch of you, but you used to spend a lot of my money on lotions and creams for your belly.” “And none of them worked. Why should anything else?” Fay kissed Dari's cheek and just turned back to Marcita. “Does it help in the chest area?” “Oh yeah, for sure,” Marcita said. “I used to have such a big stretch mark down the outside of my left breast that could easily be seen in a bikini, but it's almost nothing now.” “I'll take the recipe then,” Fay said. “You can email it to me.” “For sure,” Marcita said. “And Nathan, I'll get your contact info after the group?” “Sure, just remind me,” Nathan agreed. A knock on the door revealed a tall man, whose face Nathan felt like he just barely recognised, was standing there. “Korsy! Hey, what's up?” Camilo asked. “Dad told me you were having this pregnancy group thing,” Korsy said. “I thought I'd bring you another member if that's alright.” “Yeah, of course,” Camilo said. “Who've you brought us?” Korsy opened the door wider and from under his arm ducked a shorter man carrying a baby. “This is Jeffrey. Jeffrey, meet the group.” Jeffrey waved. “Hi. Um, I'm not pregnant anymore but I had this baby.” “We're allowed to bring babies?” Dari asked. “Sure, I don't see why not,” Camilo said. “Fay, we can bring babies,” Dari stated. Fay shook his head. “But we don't need to bring babies.” “But I want to bring babies.” Fay sighed and rubbed the back of his husband's neck. “Fine. You can bring Zoe next time.” “Katia's still a baby.” “She is a toddler and we have a babysitter and we don't need to bring any babies, but I'm agreeing to one baby.” “Fine.” “Let me get you a chair,” Camilo said starting to get up but Korsy waved it off. “Save it. I got it.” Korsy grabbed the chair from a stack in the corner and put it down between Yori and Marcita. “Jeffrey, do you want me to stay or…?” “I'm good…” the newbie stated. “'Kay, I'll be up in my office,” Korsy said waving and heading to the door. “Text me when you want to go.” “Yeah.” Korsy left and Jeffrey took a seat. “Wait, was that Korsgaard's son?” Nathan asked, pointing to the door. “Yeah, Korsy's a field agent for APID,” Camilo said. “He travels a lot for work so he's rarely around the office.” “They look identical,” Nathan said. “In all features but colour and age.” “I'd say Korsgaard looks pretty good for his age though, don't you think?” Fay mused. “I'm always telling Korsgaard he and his son could be brothers.” “Yeah,” Camilo said. “It's pretty funny.” “I was wondering, ‘cause he said ‘Dad' like it was your Dad too, but I wouldn't have clocked you as related,” Nathan said. “Yeah, it's just his Dad,” Camilo said. “So humble,” Fay said. “Korsgaard treats you so much like a second son, Korsy might as well see you as a brother.” “Naw, I could never be a Korsgaard…” Camilo said. “I mean, he did get you that Finnish baby box for the baby,” Marcita said. “I bet he wants to be at the birth too.” “You know I only want you there,” Camilo said. “You and the doctor. And whatever necessary nurses and such… Anyway! We have a new member! So, Jeffrey. Tell us about yourself.” Jeffrey squirmed a bit. “So I'm Jeffrey and, um, I'm here ‘cause my cousin said I should learn parenting stuff from other parents since I wouldn't take advice from him.” “I see, sounds like this is a perfect place for you,” Camilo said. “How do you know Korsy?” Fay inquired. “Oh. Like… Well it's complicated but, like, he's hooking up with my cousin,” Jeffrey said. “That's not that complicated,” Fay said. “Well, I mean, they only met because of me,” Jeffrey explained. “When I gave birth, Korsy was sent to our place to check on me since they knew I had an alien baby and, like, he'd been on my boyfriend's case for a while to get proof for his arrest and all that.” “Ah,” Fay breathed. “That is more complicated. Arrest?” “Yeah, like… Bler—my boyfriend—gave me a drug that was, like, not approved by the government so Korsy arrested him,” Jeffrey explained. “But I didn’t press charges so it's all good.” “I see…” Camilo tilted his head. “And um, what's our little friend's name?” “Oh, this is Ben,” Jeffrey said, petting his son's head. “But you can call him Bean if you want. His Dad does.” “Bean!” Marcita said. “That's such a cute nickname.” “Can I hold him?” Dari was just itching to ask. “Oh, yeah sure.” Jeffrey passed him down. “He's really calm but, like, if you have any buttons or earrings, he will try to rip them off.” “We're good, I think,” Dari said checking his shirt before receiving the baby. “Hello, Benny baby boy.” “Fay, Dari and Yori are our most experienced parents here,�� Camilo said. “So if you're looking for advice, then they can probably help most.” “Yes, you can ask us anything,” Fay said. “Of course, we're still figuring things out ourselves.” “Thanks,” Jeffrey said. “I'm pretty sure I know what I'm doing but it's really just my cousin who thinks I need to learn…” “Every parent is learning no matter how long they've been parents or how many children they have,” Fay said. “Every child is different and has different needs.” “I guess that's true…” Jeffrey said. “And, I mean, I wanted to dye Ben's hair pink, but Ollie—that’s my cousin—he said Ben's too young. Is that true?” “Actually, we ran into this,” Fay said, smiling. “Our second oldest, Ariane, was born with two toned hair. Oh, and I suppose I should mention, we're merpeople, so our hair—” “Merpeople?!” Jeffrey exclaimed. “No way! I just found out I'm a fairy! Are we related?” “Not in the slightest,” Fay said. “But I'm sure that's real exciting. Anyway, our hair is two toned naturally, however it typically grows in as late as puberty so Ariane is an uncommon case. Otter, our second boy, has been envious of his sister's hair and asked if he could dye it. I assumed it wouldn't be a problem but Dari was skeptical and looked into it… Long story short, it isn't recommended until after puberty.” “Aw. Well that's lame…” Jeffrey huffed. “But how does mermaid hair grow different colours?” “It's a little complicated,” Fay said, pulling his ponytail to the front of his shoulder. “The hair at the ends change to this colour as it ages… But the colour can also come through at areas of tension, like in my braids or near the elastic of my ponytail.” “That's so cool. So far, I haven’t learned anything cool that fairies can do,” Jeffrey said. “My cousin said I'm short and scrawny because of my fairy blood but he's nearly six feet tall because he's more human. And he mentioned something about magic but won't get into it with me.” “What a shame,” Fay said. “Fairies have a rich history of magic and you should be able to learn everything about yourself.” He rubbed his chin. “I think I can help you. If you'd like, I'll talk to Korsy. Have him give me your case.” “My case?” “Yes. I'm a case worker here at APID,” Fay said. “I usually deal with extraterrestrials, but I have exceptions.” “That'd be really great!” Jeffrey said. “Do you know a lot about fairies?” “I did my legendary history project on fairy assimilation back in secondary,” Fay said. “So I know where the resources are. I imagine you don't know your language either.” “We have a language?!” Jeffrey said. “Ollie never told me about that!” “It's entirely likely he doesn't know about it either,” Fay said. “Bring him in if you'd like and we can work on it together.” “Sure!” Jeffrey said. “When Ben gets bigger, I don't want him to be kept in the dark about all this like I was.” “It's healthy to know one's heritage,” Fay said. “I assume his father can fill in the other side?” Jeffrey shrugged. “Maybe. If he has time.” “Time? Is he really busy?” “Yeah. I mean his work has him all over. Sometimes even off planet,” Jeffrey said. “So he's only home maybe a couple days a month.” “And you're alone with the baby?” Dari asked, frowning. “I mean, I live with my cousin and he helps when he can,” Jeffrey said. “Sometimes I think Ben even thinks Ollie's his Dad. But I mean, it all works. Ben's happy.” Nathan tilted his head. “Are you happy?” he interjected. “Um, yeah. I mean,” Jeffrey scratched the back of his head. “Why wouldn't I be?” “It just sounds like it could be really hard,” Nathan said. “You have a baby that needs a lot of attention, your partner doesn't sound like he's around to help, and from what it sounds like, you have to live with family to get by.” “I was already living with Ollie,” Jeffrey said. “We grew up together. He might as well be my brother.” “Okay… I mean, I'm not trying to say the rest of us are better off…” Nathan said. “But if you're both happy, that's important.” “We are… I mean, it's not like I wanted to be a dad this early, but, like, it happened,” Jeffrey said, looking down. “And, um, it might've been a surprise, and we definitely had to arrange a lot of things in a really short time, but I love Ben a lot.” Marcita straightened up to interject as well. “How much of a surprise was Ben, though?” “Really big surprise,” Jeffrey said. “I didn’t even know I could even get pregnant.” “Wait…” Camilo put up a hand. “Can I ask you a question in private?” “I mean, sure? I don't really have secrets,” Jeffrey said getting up. Camilo put his hand on his twin's shoulder to help him get up and then led Jeffrey out to the hall. In the meantime, Nathan took a couple cookies off the table to snack on while the others mostly chit chatted or checked their phones. When the two came back, Jeffrey was rubbing the back of his neck and Camilo looked a little perturbed. “I'll just tell them,” Jeffrey said as he sat back down. “I don’t mind.” “That's up to you,” Camilo said. “Yeah, um. I didn’t know I was pregnant,” Jeffrey said. “My boyfriend gave me this drug that gave me a womb. I thought I was just gaining weight.” “What? Your boyfriend did that to you?” Nathan growled. “You're kidding.” “No, he did. But it's okay,” Jeffrey said. “I love Ben.” “That's not the point,” Nathan huffed. “He can't just make you have a child without your consent. At the very least, if you'd known, you could've made your own choice. What he's done is wrong and manipulative.” “Aliens…” Dari muttered, crossing his arms. Fay rubbed his husband's back but looked to Jeffrey. “Mon 'tit, I think you need to re-evaluate your relationship with…what was his name?” “Bler.” “Yes. Bler.” Fay said. “We can talk about that in our sessions though. You shouldn't feel pressured to talk about that here.” “Okay…” Nathan had gotten pretty worked up over it and was trying to make himself feel better with a juice box. “I can understand unplanned pregnancies, but to actually make someone else have a child against their will…” “Nathan, we're not getting into it,” Camilo said. “Fay is more than capable of counselling Jeffrey in this matter. And that's what this group is for, making these connections.” Nathan put a hand through his hair. “…I'm sorry.” “No, it's okay,” Camilo said. “We're all a little extra sensitive right now so it's okay to get a little heated.” “Yeah… I'm just…” Nathan started getting up and Fay got up to help him. “I need to use the bathroom.” “Okay, take your time,” Camilo said. “Thanks.” Nathan used Fay's arm to get up and walked out. Fortunately, the room Camilo chose for their meetups was just across from the bathrooms so he didn’t have to walk far. The actual process of relieving himself was a bit of a struggle but he managed. When he washed his hands, he decided to pat his face a bit with water. He felt hot thinking of such a young man like Jeffrey having to be thrust into parenthood without any permission. He himself was at least an actual adult with the chance to choose. As he was about to get ready to leave the bathroom, the door flung open and a familiar face came running in, cursing in French. “Dax?” Nathan inquired, watching his co-worker run to the tap and dunk his arm in cold water. “Ah, merde… Nathan, hey,” Dax hissed through his teeth, clearly in pain. “What happened? Are you okay?” Nathan asked. “Should I call the hospital wing?” “No, no… It's just a burn,” Dax huffed. “I'll be fine.” “What happened?” “Uh, well… I had a meeting with my case worker after class,” Dax said. “The bird got a little too excited and burned me.” “Burned you? The lightning bird?” “Thunderbird. Electrical burn,” Dax said. “If the spirit inhabits you, shouldn't you be immune?” Nathan asked. “Yeah, usually. It's up to the spirit,” Dax said. “I imagine they could cook me from the inside out if they really wanted to. The bird does this when I… Well, uh… Let's just say when I don't do what it wants of me.” “Sounds manipulative.” “No, no…” Dax turned off the tap and took a look at his burn. It was red but didn’t seem too bad. “Well,  un petit peux. But, it's usually just friendly reminders to take care of myself.” Nathan walked over and picked up Dax's arm to look at it. “Are you going to be alright?” “I should,” Dax said. “I heal up pretty quick. Don't worry about it.” “You should at least put Polysporin on it,” Nathan said. “I have some in my room… But, shit, I have this pregnancy group thing…” “Pregnancy group?” Dax inquired. “They do that here?” “Yeah, it's okay,” Nathan said. “Cool to know I'm not the only other knocked up guy around. But it's kinda stressing me out right now.” “Oh? Why?” Dax said. Nathan sighed. “There's this new kid… He looks fresh out of high school… Just seems way too young to have a kid.” Dax shrugged. “I mean, young people get knocked up all the time. As long as he's an adult…” “There's more to it, but it's not my place to tell you…” Nathan gave Dax back his arm. “I wanna ditch. I'm tired and if you walk me back to my room, I'll get you the Poly.” Dax smiled. “Sure! Sounds like a deal.” Nathan smirked. “Okay. Thanks for giving me an out.” “Anytime.” Nathan waddled with Dax back to the meeting room and popped his head back in. The group at that point seemed involved in entertaining the baby Jeffrey had brought but Camilo looked up to greet him back. “All better, Nathan?” he asked. “Yeah, but um… I'm really tired so I'm just gonna go to bed if that's okay…” Camilo gave a sympathetic smile. “Of course. We understand. Have a good night.” “I'll see you next Friday?” Nathan asked. “Yeah, for sure!” Camilo said. “Okay, bye.” “Bye!” The others said goodbye to him as well and he left. Dax was re-examining his arm, which looked completely normal again. “What the heck…” Nathan took his arm again and ran his fingers over where the burn had just been. He was met with a clean, maybe a bit hairy, healthy arm. “I told you, I heal fast,” Dax said. “Samara hates it. I hardly ever scar.” “Well… I guess you don't need the Polysporin,” Nathan said. “No… But, I'd still like to walk you to your room,” Dax insisted. Nathan nodded. “Yeah… Thanks. Let's go.”

[fineillsignup]

In the most recent chapter of the Instructress, Sima Zhao is worried about choosing a style name for Wen Yan. So in my understanding you were given a style name once you reached adulthood, and since, in story Wen Yang is only 19 and Zhao needs to think of a name for him before he turns 20. So was 20 the age when you legally became an adult in the three kingdoms period? If so could people who weren’t adults join/be drafted into the military? Sorry for asking another question again so soon.

Somebody: can I ask you a question about the Three Kingdoms—

Me, already on day four of my marathon lecture:

Yeah NEVER worry about bothering me with a question about Chinese history. I jump those straight to the head of the queue. I have questions in my askbox for Naruto meta from 2018.

Okay so you need clarification on a background issue first that is not widely known outside East Asian.

Traditional East Asian Age Reckoning

In the Old Days, in East Asia (at least China, Korea, and Japan, I can’t speak beyond that, but I’m guessing anywhere that uses a variation on the Chinese lunisolar calendar), birthdays based on the individual day of birth were not considered important in terms of age, even though they were very important for calculating one’s horoscope (right down to the hour of birth). So it’s not like people didn’t know what day and hour someone was born, they just… didn’t consider it relevant to how old they were? I know this is kind of hard to get your head around, but stick with me.

When a child is born, he or she is considered one year old. This is because time in the womb is counted and then essentially rounded up.

Then on the seventh day of the (Chinese) New Year, it is Renri 人日 “human day”, aka “humanity’s birthday”. Everyone gets one year older on Renri. T

Let’s look at the two extremes, with the understand that most people fall in between them.

A woman gives birth to a baby on the sixth day of the New Year. This newborn is one year old. The next day is Renri. The two-day old baby is considered two years old. On the next Renri they will turn three, then four, and so on, you understand how positive integers work.

The other extreme is a baby born on the eighth day of the New Year. Again, the day it is born, it is one year old. The next Renri rolls around roughly twelve (Western calendar) months later. This roughly one year old toddler is also two years old.

All of the ancient Chinese histories are written using this age system. So you need to subtract one year, minimum, from everyone’s age as written in the San Guo Zhi to get what their Western/modern age would be, and it could be that they are as much as two years younger than that.

So. Twenty is for men the age of adulthood, but “twenty” actually means “between 18 and 19″. So it wasn’t all that much different from our modern definition of legal adulthood. At this age, men would be “capped”, which was a coming-of-age ceremony where they would symbolically wear adult headwear for the first time and receive their “style name” 字. A style name is how peers address each other, because one’s given name is generally considered something that only people who have authority over you should use.

(How about women, you ask? More complicated, partly because ancient Chinese were constantly like “Women? Why would we want to write about women???” Confucian texts stated that the ideal marriage age for women was eighteen [16-17]; fourteen [12-13] was generally considered the minimum. A woman seemed to basically be considered an adult when she married, whenever that was for her. I can’t recall any women whose ages are recorded [most aren’t] who weren’t teenagers at first marriage, mostly 15-17 by Western reckoning.)

In my fiction, I stick to using Western numbers to describe people’s ages for simplicity of understanding, and I also mostly use given names to an inaccurate extent for similar reasons. Non-Chinese struggle to remember Chinese names to begin with, not simply “they’re not trying hard enough” (See note one below). 

So I’m going for a kind of blend of modern West and traditional East here, inspired by how modern Japan handles it (see note 2). Wen Yang is 19, so he’ll be turning twenty next year, so the Renri of that year he will come of age. However, obviously, he’s been fighting as a soldier for years already. We’re told that Ling Tong received his dead father’s troops when he was fifteen, ie 13-14, and it certainly appears like he actually started leading them, if not immediately, then certainly well before age eighteen.

Common people were even less written about then noble women, but I’d bet any sum you like that a substantial number of the troops in the Three Kingdoms era on every side were teenagers, many of whom doubtless died before they ever came of age. Why, ancient China? Why are you making girls get married and boys die in war, they’re far too young for these things???

1. A typical Westerner will much more easily remember someone named Tom or Shaniqua or Jesus or Tatyana than someone named Mengde; the issue is that all of these names fit into “name boxes” that our brains, linguistically, are familiar with and understand. Pinyin representation of Chinese also strips out a lot of linguistic information that helps make Chinese names distinct from each other to Chinese speakers. A Chinese speaker looks at 曹孟德 and every character is associated not only with the sounds cao / meng / de but also tones cao2 / meng4 / de2 and meanings and cultural context: Cao, a very common surname; Meng, a common component in style names; De, virtue, which has a meaning connection to Cao 操, conduct. So for a Chinese speaker to remember that 曹孟德 Cao Mengde and 曹操 Cao Cao are the same person is objectively much easier than for a non-Chinese speaker to remember that. Non-Chinese would have as difficult a time keeping track of characters in a story where they were all named random syllables. You will eventually figure it out and remember, of course! But it will take longer and that’s okay!!! That’s just BRAINS, people!

2. Now in modern Japan, for example, when they adopted the Western calendar, they didn’t bother changing the age of adulthood; instead, in Japan, the Western age twenty is now the age of adulthood, including for the coming-of-age ceremony. Modern Japanese hold their Coming of Age Ceremony 成人式 for people who are turning twenty by Western calendar.)

[queenssunshine]

Making a Living off of Death (1/4)

I literally cannot believe I’ve posted my first fic to AO3! This is my first fic in almost seven years, so I’m really excited to become a contributing member of fandom again. 

Anyway, here’s my first Spider-boy fic, and in the spirit of Whumptober, it is of course whump.

Read On AO3 Here

When people ask him what he does, he generally tells them he’s a freelancer. On occasion they will enquire further, “A freelance what?”, to which he will respond, “Whatever I can.” That’s basically true—while he deals mostly in assassinations, he also does assaults and robberies on occasion. Sometimes he needs to put the fear of God into people. Sometimes he just needs to play God.

The hit on Tony Stark comes to him in a heavily encrypted email that takes his computer two days to work through. Sometimes clients are paranoid like that, making the orders so difficult to access that most people in the business walk away before they even know what they’re for. He supposes this isn’t a bad idea. Plausible deniability and all that. But it’s annoying for him to have to wait around for his program to work out the endless lines of tangled code. This also probably means payment will come in a similar form, which is even more annoying.

Anyway, the hit on Tony Stark gets sent to him and three other colleagues and he’s the first one to decode it (and probably the only one to try) so first come, first kill. The built-in kill code activates and his instructions unwrite themselves from the screen, his laptop defaulting to his desktop photo of the silhouette of a dog on a sunset. Alright, time to strategize.

First, he has to get to New York. Then he has to figure out how to get Stark’s schedule. Then he has to get close to him. Then he has to kill him.

Hacking into Stark’s security team is above his skill set but gaining access to his employee files ends up being pretty easy. Cross-check some names, Google some addresses, hack a local AT&T store, and boom, he has access to the personal phones of who he has decided is two key players in his plan: the head of security and an intern.

He decides these two are key because he sees them too much. Photos from expos, parties, conferences, press events—the two are a constant presence at the side of Tony Stark. The security head quite frankly looks like an oaf, and the intern doesn’t appear to be older than college age, so he decides that they can’t do too much thwarting to his plan. The more he gets to know them through the screen, the more he feels that way.

The emails that the two have sent back and forth are heavily encrypted, and there are heaps of text messages that are as well. He can’t believe it, but his main source of information is coming from the animojis that the two send each other on occasion. The intern favors the alien. The security head favors the brown bear. (The intern also thinks the security head should use the poop one more, but that’s beside the point.)

Through the animojis, GPS tracking, and some old-fashioned stalking-- er, in-person reconnaissance, he discovers that the intern is a student at a magnet school in Forest Hills and that the security head is, for whatever reason, his personal after-school driver. The relationship between the two of them seems pretty relaxed. They clearly have a long history of uneventful school pick-ups, because he just sits in the visitor parking lot and stares at them without detection as the security head pulls up in the black Audi, the intern hops in, and they wait in the long queue to get off the campus. He trails the car, but the location of drop-off changes on the daily—sometimes a restaurant, sometimes a bodega, twice it was just an alleyway. Once they went to Stark Tower, or at least he assumes that’s where they were heading, but by the time they were two blocks away he decided to drop off to avoid getting clocked on any of Stark’s cameras. Even though Stark probably had access to every CCTV in town. Sometimes you just have to play it safe.

After about two weeks of monitoring, he gets his golden ticket. His phone pings a few times in a row, and he opens it to witness an exchange between Alien and Brown Bear:

[Alien] Are we still on for after school? [Brown Bear] Yeah, he had to move some stuff around so we might be late, but we’ll still be there. [Alien] Cool! It’s probably better, I don’t want—[the alien hesitates, rotates his head, lowers voice] Mr. Stark to have to deal with people freaking out about him being here. [Brown Bear] Don’t worry about it, kid. [Brown Bear] I think he’s kind of excited to see your school and your friends. [Alien] Okay, well I’ll see you guys later then. [Alien] OH! Can we please go to Julio’s again? Please? I’m craving breadsticks. [Brown Bear] Boss says okay.

So the decision had to be made: to carry out the assassination on a high school campus, or at an Italian restaurant in Brooklyn. He sighs as he Googles “Midtown academic calendar forest hills,” and sighs again when he discovers that tonight is the Annual Science Fair. What will Tony Stark do in the presence of one thousand geeks and their parents: double down on security or keep it modest? He rapidly Googles some more, trying to find instances of Tony Stark, billionaire and savior of the universe, attending a high school science fair. Bingo. Seven years ago he had attended the science fair of the Bronx High School of Science, and according to r/TonyStark and r/IronMan, he had only had Brown Bear and his gauntlets at his disposal. No supplementary guards? Not wise, Stark. Still, one instance was not enough to base his operation on.

Further inquiries reveal that Stark, in his years since becoming the savior of the universe, has only grown laxer. His prosthetic arm doubles as a housing unit for the Iron Man suit, sure, but it seems to be de-weaponized most of the time. He’s spotted without security regularly—outings with clients, with the Avengers team, with the kid, all solo. Rarely a body guard appears, but it’s only when he’s with his daughter or wife. Maybe it’s because Stark thinks he’s too big to fuck with. Maybe Stark is, and maybe this is a big mess in the making. Oh well. He decides the assassination is going to go down at the school, but he needs one more thing to make it go off well. So he calls a colleague, has them transfer the encrypted message, decodes it again (but faster, thank you machine learning), backward engineers it, and makes a phone call. And a request.

Two hours later, a cloaking suit arrives at a P.O. box, to which he has the key.

Sometimes his clients gift him cool things to execute a mission, but a cloaking suit is hands-down the coolest thing he’s gotten. He didn’t know what he expected when he takes it out of the courier box, but it looks almost civilian—a thick grey windbreaker with lines of reflective material running down the sleeves, and a pair of pants to match. It’s basically a tracksuit. He’s relieved. New Yorkers have likely seen weirder things than a man dressed in full tactical attire on the subway, but it’s still nice to have a low profile.

He messes around with the settings and soon enough he’s standing before the hotel bathroom mirror almost completely invisible, only a slight warp betraying where he is. Nothing anyone would see unless they were looking for it. Without the hood on, he looks like Harry Potter on his first Christmas at Hogwarts. He is—he dare say—giddy.

He deactivates the cloaking, grabs his guitar case (read: sniper rifle) and wallet and leaves the hotel.

Before getting to the school, he has a slice of pizza, a coke, and a bag of gummy bears. This is not good fuel for the potential get-away sprint, but he can’t help himself. He’s so happy, he can just feel the brewing of a good mission on its way.

He arrives at the school after classes have let out and before the end of the science fair, meaning that the parking lot is a ghost town. His cloaking suit already activated, he climbs up on his predetermined hiding spot (a portable building next to the bus parking lot which would allow him ample cover and a quick escape were things to get hairy), sets up his Barrett M82 (already sheathed in its matching grey cloaking suit), and hunkers down. He lets his mind wander as half an hour passes, thoughts looping around his ex-wife (that bitch), his breakfast tomorrow (maybe that 2.8-star diner down the street), and his dog (who was currently boarding at a doggy daycare next to his house in Kentucky and got a time-out today). Finally, families start spilling out of the front doors of the school, and from his view atop the portable, he can clearly see the faces of all exiting.

Fifteen minutes pass of parental pride and filial embarrassment before Stark, the security head, and the intern come walking out. By the time they exit, most of the fair has cleared out and only a few cars remain in the lot—probably teachers and staff. The intern is clutching a blue ribbon and a small trophy while the security head struggles to maintain hold of some kind of robotic device. Stark has his hands jammed in his pockets, strolling casually, lips quirked in a contented smile as the intern rambles about something. He can barely hear it—something about how the intern knew his project was good but didn’t think it would win an award or anything. For a moment, he pauses, feeling a little remorse. He had always wanted kids. The intern seemed pretty endearing. Oh well. Moment over.

He lines up the sight on Stark. It’s a clean shot, a beautiful shot, a stars-have-aligned-and-I’m-about-to-get-away-with-this shot, and he feels the rush of a perfectly executed assassination flow through his veins. This moment is why he mainly deals in assassinations. This high of having so much power yet not even being seen, it hits different. He drops the safety and just as his finger twitches back to the trigger the most bizarre thing happens.

The intern looks at him.

Of course, the kid can’t look at him, he has the cloaking suit on, but the kid’s suspicious eyes pass over the top of the portable and he feels violated.

Also, he squeezes the trigger thrice.

And then a more bizarre thing happens: the kid drops.

Well, shit.

[serenamantra]

Day 4: Describe your Best Friends

I got tons of best friends. From High School and College but not from elementary which is sad because I don't communicate with them anymore. Some of them might just think we were acquaintance or far from that. It was like years ago and we haven't communicate that much. Guess we've met other people that's why we didn't had the chance to prolong the friendship. But we still follow each other on social media and I'm so proud with their life choices.

Meet, Jessa Mae Abraham.

I met her when I was in 2nd year high school and she was a freshman and a transferee. Everyone were discussing that we both looked alike and has the same nickname, which is Sam. Since everyone's saying we are like twins, we immediately clicked. She was always in our home and we bonded so much it feels like no one can break us apart.

It was kind of saddening since when I got to 4th year high school, I dedicated my time to my studies since I was a graduating student. And when I graduated and started my year as a freshman in College, she was a graduating student too. So, it was so hard for us to communicate and to spend with each other more often. When she graduated, she studied in Ateneo de Naga so it made it more complicated. So now, since I got more time to communicate with her, we are both trying to strengthen our friendship. Hopefully, we'll get comfortable with each other again. Hoping.

Next is, Jenica Celine Lustre.

I remember blogging about her, Nicolle and Jhoice but reminiscing memories feels so good. So, let's blog about it again. Hoping I can make the story clearer this time.

We were in grade school when I met her. Everyone was talking about her when she transferred at our school. Everyone's crushing on her because of her physique, her fair skin and her intelligence. We were in Grade 5 and she had her own group of friends. One of her friends was Joriza. There were something I had to discuss with her when they were at the school's flag pole. After our discussion, they invited me to spend the afternoon with them. After that, I spent most of the days of my 5th grade with them. And with that, my friend Johannah spent them with us too. High school came and we were still studying in the same school. Celine was in the section where she met Maeca and still friends with Johannah. Me on the other hand, spent the school year with my classmates. The friends who matured early from others, they had boyfriends, drinks, stays outside late at night. It was a nightmare for peer pressure. When we set foot for 2nd year high school, I was classmates with Maeca and so Celine and I went friends again. And spent half of the school year with them. Then I began to be part of their group which was called Toperks. I forgot already what that meant. When 3rd year came, I was classmates with Celine. Then we started the group SGRS with Nicolle and Jhoice. Years went by and we are still best friends and I am thankful for that.

Next is, Nicolle Gomez.

The start of our friendship was so funny. I was this bully from high school which everyone hated. This strong personality of mine led me to meet Nicolle.

She was classmates with my cousin, Kaye when were at the 1st year of high school. Kaye was this lowkey probinsyana who adores people who has fair skin, modest and lives in the city. I caught her carrying Nicolle's bag one afternoon and I got mad because why the hell she's making my cousin her maid. Her sister knew about this which was like me. A strong girl who can fight independently. Nicolle already said she was sorry and said sorry also to her and to her sister. That was one of a hell ride. Hahahaha

She was part of Toperks too when we were in 2nd year. We were awkward when we started in 3rd year but went closer to each other. We had many ups and downs in this friendship because we both liked the same guy which happened twice. HAHAHA. The first guy was Dominic, the guy that I had a relationship with for 2 years. You can find blog posts about him. Hehe. The second guy was Joward. I got closer to him because in a weird sense I can understand how he expresses himself. They dated for about a year in the last years of college but that should not be talked about coz ya know, its not my story. We grew closer together when we had the same course in College. Thankful for this friendship too.

Meet, Mary Joyce Andrea Sacayan.

She was a transferee when we step in 2nd year high school. She was Ate Kia's new friend since they were classmates. They spent so much together and I spent with my new friends too. Ate Kia was a classmate in freshmen year. She's really fond of treating people with her money. Not in the negative nor positive way. I guess somewhere in between. Then she let us meet Jhoice. She was this bubbly, funny, cute and jejemon girl. She was fond of using numbers as letters in texting. Thinking of it makes it funnier because she stayed the same, jejemon in texting aside. We called each other, Tugs. See? Jejemon HAHA

We are the ones who were closer when SGRS started because we have the same strong personality. Also with group we had before Toperks, we spent night outs and drinking alcoholic beverages together. Up until now we still do but she got bored with already. I really hope for her to find a man who's really worth it.

Next is Archel Canlas.

He's a high school schoolmate. I didn't get to be classmates with him in high school but we went closer together when Dominic was my boyfriend. They were classmates and I became fond of him with his quirky stuff and how he quickly became friends with girls.

When Dominic and I broke up. Archel and I were still close. He usually made every guy problem that I have through the years easier. He's the guy I got so comfortable to share with my intimate experiences in life. Also, a one call away friend for every night out I do. We grew so close together and went best friends with Nicolle and Celine too. He's so comfortable to be with and gives respect to us girls.

Next is, Princess Carla Parra.

The first college buddy I had when I shifted to Psychology. She's this timid but funny person. I don't really remember how we got so close. Just woke up one morning and we got close already. She knows every kagagahan through my college life. All the flings and night out that I had. She was supportive nonetheless the chaos that I was having because of this. I grew closer too with every boys in our block because of her. She's a lesbian and I accept every bit of her. Not that she needed my approval or anyone else with her sexuality but I just love how she knew what she really liked in her very young age.

Many were shocked how our friendship grew since we have a totally different traits and personality. But that didn't stop our bond. We graduated college with this friendship I will always treasure. Also, very proud of her because she's slowly opening her little box. Hihi

Next is Nathalie France Ruin.

People call her Bem. She's this out-going, intelligent, has a weird sanse of humor and the weirdest laugh. One day, I came late in one of our class. She saw my sweat near my eyebrow and decided to wipe it. I scolded her since she's going to wipe my eyebrows. HAHAHA Thesis came and my group of friends decided that we shouldn't spend and be groupmates. It happened in Experimental Psychology and seen what happened. That's why it's our best decision to split since it's only a maximum of 3 persons per group. I was groupmates with her and Ate Abee. 1st day of discussing with our title, Ate Abee wasn't around so Bem and I spent talking about what I have been going through with my boyfriend. That was Kris btw. Hahaha that's when we started our friendship. And then I got to be part of their group, dreamteam. It's with Christine, Ate Pearl, Linzi, Ate Abee, Bem and me. Finally get to have a girl group in College.

After thesis, we grew closer together. She spends her day in our house and she's close with my family. I taught her so many things and vice versa. I made a good girl drink so much and spent too much time outside with my boy friends.HAHAHAHA. But I didn't make her a bitch or something. I simply made her experience these things to strengthen her immune system when it comes to this circumstances. When she drinks with her other friends, atleast she's not going to be a burden to anyone since she practiced on not getting drunk so easily. She on the other hand helped me in focusing on my acads and it really helped me graduate on time.

These are my best friends. For better or for worst, through thick and thin I will never give up in all of this friendship. I love them too much and they are my source of strength and my constant source of support in this battle field.

[alitaimagines]

Can you do a scenario where all might meets his girlfriend in high school, possibly like a POC girl like you did last time?? and they start dating but fast forward years later and their married. She sees all might fighting a villain and she they caught off the TV when she sees him getting extremely injured and when he comes home, he finds her sobbing while listening to the radio and watching videos of them when they were younger. I live for angst and then fluff.

Toshinori Yagi x Reader

Summary: “We’ve been together for years. I can’t lose you. Not now, not ever.” ( Listen to this song when you read the party scene: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uUGFhVWPOFs )

You had been dating Toshinori since high school. Toshinori had been a bit of a wild card and everyone thought he was going to be a bachelor his entire life. The two of you had met at a party and while neither of you expected to still be together, you had been happily married for over a decade.

You were invited to a final send off party for all the 3rd years. You were all set to graduate within the next two days and you felt like for once in your life, you needed to let loose. 

The party was being hosted in the house of the a boy who you didn’t know. You were all encouraged to bring liquor as it was a high school party and no one was the age to buy it. You had brought a twelve pack of Mike’s Hard Lemonade. It was a starter drink for anyone who was a light weight. 

You sat around with the same cup of tequila as you mingled around. Students were already acting like they were drunk off their ass as they ushered themselves to different rooms in the house. To do what? You didn’t want to know.

“American girl! You should totally pick the next song!” A boy slurred into your ear as he gave you a napkin. “We need to shit to dance to since everyone in this party is acting lame!”

You laughed, “Sure. Just type this song in and you should be good to go!” 

You had written down “We be burning” by Sean Paul. It was a good song for everyone to dance to. Although it was totally out of the music element for Japan, you knew everyone would dance to it anyway. 

Just as you went for your second drink, you felt the first cup start to kick in. You had participated in a couple of rounds of beer pong as you continued to ask for you cup to be refilled. You friend had cautioned you to watch your drinking but did you really care? No, not really. 

“Hey, you’re really good at beer pong!” You heard a voice say from behind you. “You should really be my partner next time.”

You turned around to see Yagi Toshinori. He was in your class and although the two of you were classmates, you never spoke to each other. He was extremely popular amongst the girls and you had never been the type of flock the popular school crush. You were a bit more reserved and understood other people’s boundaries. 

“Thanks! Well, if they decide to have another round, I’ll call you over!” You said smiling as you slapped your hand on his shoulder. “I don’t think they are though.”

“Well, how about you dance the next song with me?” Toshinori asked as he held his hand out for you. It was the song you had suggested and all of the people flocked the living room floor. 

You grabbed his hand and put your arms around his neck. You started to grind on him slowly as you started to sing the words into his ears. (I really suggest you listen to the song or else it’s not going to make sense. It’s really just the beat of the song that you should listen too.)

“Everyday we be burnin’ not concernin’ what nobody wanna say. We be earnin’ dollars turning ‘cause we mind de pon we pay. More than gold and oils and diamonds– girls, we need dem everyday. Recognize it, we be pimpin as we ridin. ”

“I didn’t know you were this much of a great dancer,” Toshinori slurred as you continued to dance on him. “I would have asked you out to dance with me a long time ago. 

“I know your infatuation with American things so I should have mentioned that I am half American, the other half Mexican,” You giggled as you turned around to grind on him with your arse in his crotch area. 

Toshinori didn’t speak as he enjoyed the dance that was being given to him. He knew that if you weren’t as drunk as you were, he wouldn’t be getting the dance in the first place. If he wasn’t as drunk as he was, he wouldn’t have accepted it either. In the back of both your minds, the last bit of sober thoughts went away as you both accepted the last two shots of vodka. 

“How about we head back to my place? I need to lay down before I pass out,” Toshinori managed out as he grabbed your hand and led you outside of the house. 

“Maybe I can give you the dance I just gave you again. This time with less clothes on and you on a chair,” You whispered as he carried you bridal style. You slowly started to kiss him down to his collarbone and he just knew he had to get home. 

The next morning, you woke up in Toshinori’s bed. The birds chirping extremely loud and you felt like your head was about to explode. You felt a hand tighten against you as you finally started to regain your memory from last night. 

“Toshinori! Toshinori, get up!” You whispered as you shook him awake. 

He groaned and opened his eyes. Toshinori looking extremely rough as his hair was all over the place. You could say the same thing about you. Your hair standing up in different places and you breath reeked of alcohol. 

“Don’t tell me we did something last night,” Toshinori groaned as he finally got a good look at the two of you. “Please tell me we both consented to this.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh as you covered yourself with the blanket, “With the way we were last night, I don’t think either of us were sober enough to do anything.” 

You ran your hands through you hair as you tried to start gathering your things together. Before you could even step foot on the floor, Toshinori grabbed you and pulled you back on the bed. 

“What’s up?” You asked as he started to close his eyes. 

Toshinori shrugged, “You should stay a little longer. I know you live on campus so you have no one to come home too.” 

You thought for a second before giving in. You laid back down and Toshinori immediately cuddling you. His hand rubbing your sides as you laid your head on his chest. 

“I should really treat you to dinner soon. Have any plans later?” Toshinori asked. “You know, with you being my girlfriend and all.” 

You felt yourself blushing different shades of red. You knew he was bold but not that bold. 

“Sure,” You giggled as you ran your hand through his golden locks. 

You had been watching the TV intensely. There was a major attack in the downtown area. While everyone assumed that All Might was going to take care of it in a flash, the villain managed to strike him hard enough for him to go down in pain. 

“Toshinori, you need to come back home,” You whispered as you clutched your hand that held the beautiful promise ring. 

The two of you had already found out the consequences of his quirk recently. His body was about to start giving out if he didn’t stop fighting and while he was already training his next successor, you knew he would continue his pro hero work until he felt finished training Izuku. 

The camera of the news station panned into All Might as he was holding his left side. If his body gave out, the whole world would know his secret. His body showing the major consequences of his quirk and you begged him to start distancing himself from major city attacks but he never listened. 

“Fuck,” You whispered as you clutched your phone to your heart. “He’s going to be alright. He has to be alright.”

Suddenly, the TV cut out and the last thing you had seen was Toshinori being carried out on a stretcher. He wasn’t moving. Almost like he was dead. 

Your sobs continued as you felt your phone vibrate. It was a video message from your best friend. She had known the secret Toshinori and was probably texting you to check up on you. You looked at the video and you felt the sobs come even harder. 

It was the video of you and Toshinori at the stupid party that got the two of you together. It was blurry as hell as it had been recorded on one of those RCA Camcorders. You could see the two of you being completely wasted as you were dancing like an idiot on him. 

“Thought you would need to see this. I hope he’s alright.”

It soon turned into you watching videos of the two of you that you had on your phone. They were all different occasions but the genuine happiness made you cry even harder. 

You felt your sobs soon turn into you having an anxiety attack. You were gasping for air more than you actually cried. You heart was racing and you felt your mind being fogged. You had crashed up against the pillows as your anxiety attack put you to sleep. 

Toshinori walked into the house the next morning looking like he usually did. Small cuts on his face but after Recovery Girl worked around the clock to fix him, he walked out of the hospital with a sprained ankle as his major injury. He could see the videos of the two of you playing on the TV as he seen your tear stained face. The guilt immediately bubbling up. 

“Get up,” Toshinori whispered as he shook your leg. 

You jumped up and seen your husband looking down at you with a small smile. You tackled him into a hug as you sobbed into his shoulder. He knew you were worried out of your mind, as every wife had the right to be. 

“Don’t you do that ever again. What did I tell you? You need to slow down. I was worried sick but since you specifically told me never to call you while you were on duty, I didn’t try. Fuck Toshinori, remember what the doctors told you? Your body isn’t meant to handle those injuries anymore. You aren’t 25. You’re in your 40s! Sometimes, I feel like you don’t even listen to me anymore,” You lectured as your tears kept coming down. 

Toshinori slowly bent down on his knee as he took out a black box. Your back towards him as you didn’t feel like showing him your tears. 

“I’m sorry. You have every right to be mad at me. Just please, turn around,” He whispered as you turned around with an attitude. “I know I can’t fight like that anymore. After last night, Recovery Girl nearly killed me herself when she found out the status of my health. While I was covering from surgery, I had a dream of you. You were laying flowers on my grave next to Izuku. The two most important people in my life seeing me dead is not the life I want. This time I promise you, I will start to push myself to not fight every villain that attacks the city. I also want to ask you this question, will you marry me?” 

“It took your near death experience to finally realize that you can’t fight anymore? I swear I’m marrying an idiot. Yes, yes of course I’ll marry you!” You screamed as you hugged him. “It took you nearly two decades to ask!” 

Toshinori laughed quietly as he held you close. Having you in his life was all he needed now. Maybe nearly dying was his wake up call but seeing you in such a state of distress is something he never wanted to witness again.

-ALITA (requests open!!!)

[count-demonlord-of-decadence]

THE NEW GIRL (She’s a Natural)

Ishtar Knoxville sat on the walkway one floor above and perpendicular to her family's three bedroom condo. Here she could observe her family's comings and goings discreetly. Not that her family took any notice of her except for when she was in trouble. But she learned early that the lack of attention provided ample opportunities to observe and learn. Ishtar wasn't like the other girls that attended her public high school. All they cared about was clothes, Instagram likes and what kind of cars people drove. When Ishtar was seven, her little brother Giuseppe Jr was born, erasing any presence she had in the family. Her school life was painfully ordinary until middle school when her friends wanted to act all grown. They were suddenly immersed in makeup, boys and social media. Ishtar tried to keep up but her “friends” quickly made it clear she was cramping their style. Ishtar rejected the conformist matriarchy her ”friends” embraced and they made her an object of mockery and ridicule. Ishtar took refuge in the school library, the last place any “cool kid” would be seen.

The last day before winter break of her seventh grade year, Ishtar was exploring a box of used books donated to the school when she discovered a copy of Justine by Marquis de Sade. The librarian told her it was inappropriate for school but didn't mind if she took it home. She read the whole book that very night. She was enamored with the philosophy, violence and sex. For the first time in her life she saw a world free from the superficial bullshit and embraced a life devoted to the pursuit of pleasure. Of course at age 11 her pleasures consisted of reading, candy and masturbation. And read she did. By her first day of high school she'd read every book deemed pornographic and subversive she could download. Her parents were all too happy to get her gift cards as gifts because it was relatively inexpensive and readily available. When her family asked what she was reading she just responded with the current most popular young adult novel. She was packing a bowl of the low quality high priced weed 14 year old girls have to buy when a strange little man knocked on her family's door.

His facial features made him look like a rat, a rat wearing an expensive suit. He seemed out of place in a suit to Ishtar, more of a blue collar man. The cigarette he was smoking didn't seem out of place. Her father, Giuseppe opened the door recognized the man and stepped out, closing the door behind him.

“You outta your fucking mind coming here!?” He exclaimed in hushed tones, unaware that his voice echoed of the walls. “I got kids in there.”

“Oh sorry bother you at your home Giuseppe,” the French accent and added sarcasm made the man's voice slightly more pleasant than nails on a chalkboard, “But you don't return my calls, texts, e-mail or faxes.” Ishtar swallowed a chuckle at that line. “And we need to talk. We've gotten some complaints about your high prices. The Syndicate doesn't mind if you skim a little here and there but you've been marking up the prices and pocketing the difference. Other dealers do the same. And that was cool but now your prices are so high customers are thinking about going to other suppliers. Now the competition knows they could potentially corner the market by simply lowering their prices. Imma tell you the same thing I told the other guys,” he handed him a slip of paper “these are the new prices. Be a good boy and stick to them, or else.”

Giuseppe Knoxville being half black half Italian suffered no disrespect, especially from a man a foot shorter and 75 pounds lighter than himself. But it was the pat on the cheek that set Giuseppe off.  He grabbed the little man by the throat and balls, threatening to toss him over the rail snarling, “Who the fuck you think you are? Come to my house, disrespect me, in front of my kids! You fucking worm! You're just a goddamn go for! A fucking bell boy! I've taken shits with bigger balls than you! Don't ever come at me with no disrespect! Next time your candy ass will be flying to the ground floor!” Giuseppe released the man and stormed back into the condo. The man took 70 seconds to massage his balls and throat before leaving. Ishtar noted it was the coolest thing she'd ever seen her father do.

A week later, Ishtar was sitting in the same spot when the same rat looking man appeared. He wore the “Canadian tuxedo” comfortably with a Dallas Cowboys hat on backwards. Behind him were four eccentrically dressed individuals. The first was an African American wearing a burgundy top hat, tailcoat, dark glasses, and cotton plugs in the nostrils, as if to resemble a corpse dressed and prepared for burial in the Haitian style. The grouped stopped so a rubenesque Asian woman cosplaying as Saya from Blood-C could paint an ornate skull on the Black man’s face. A 6'1" natural blonde woman wearing a Pocahontas costume watched the painting with visible signs of impatience. Ishtar mused that her breast had to be fake. Last was an is immensely tall and and bulky man. He has long, powerful arms and legs, massive hands and feet. He has shoulder-length slick black hair and imposing facial features. He was dressed like pro wrestler Pete Dunne. The face painting completed, the Big guy turned the knob and opened the door. Ishtar knew the door was locked, having locked it nine minutes prior behind her, and surmised he broke the knob with his hand. The five entered and closed the door behind them. Ishtar dashed home. The doorknob was indeed borken when she entered. Before she could take in the scene, the blonde woman closed the the door and stood guard in front of it. Ishtar noted the woman appeared to be in her 40’s and clearly worked out. The big guy had his foot on her fathers left cheek, pinning his face to the floor. He had her father’s arm left torqued up in a such a manner that guaranteed damage. Her mother, Jessie was holding eight year old Giuseppe Jr., covering his eyes and ears. Isis, her older sister had her face pinned against the refrigerator. A kunai pointed at her throat kept her docile.

The Black man squatted, his crotch inches from Giuseppe's face and spoke with an Eastern European accent, “Permit me to introduce myself; my name is Count Demon Lord, leader of the Black Magick Syndicate. It seems you ignored my instructions and disrespected one of my men.”

The big guy released some of the pressure on Guiseppe’s arm so he could speak rationally.

“Please I can get you the money! I’ll apologize! I’ll do anything you say, just don’t hurt my family!”

Demon Lord rolled his eyes and stood up, the big guy added more pressure to the arm until Giuseppe was silent.

“OH, please er… what was his name le Fou?”

“Giuseppe Knoxville” the French rat looking guy replied.

“Right. Now see here Giuseppe this isn’t about the money. We have plenty of that. Hell this isn’t even about the thievery or the disrespect. We’re big fans of that kind of behavior. The truth is we have money and power beyond your wildest dreams. and the boredom that comes along with it. So when le Fou told us of your altercation, we found what we always seek, a flimsy excuse to act on our most deviant desires. So spare us the pleading and begging, we’re not interested. We’re not here to scare you or teach you a lesson. You all are our prey, and no amount of money or words will change that. Accept your fate so that you might entertain us a bit. Teah…”

The big guy took his queue and loudly broke Giuseppe’s humerus. His scream was drowned out by the laughter of the eccentrics.

“le Fou, search this hovel for anything of merit. Teah, break his legs. Zara, bring me that girl.” The rubenesque Asian woman dragged Isis by her dyed blonde hair to Demon Lord. Isis was 20 years old and had the kind of body other women slave in the gym for. Her face has always been described as angelic. She had her own room, but was suppose to move out and college so Ishtar and Giuseppe Jr. wouldn’t have to share. Their parents never pressured her to do so though. Demon Lord had Isis down to her bra and panties with seven strokes of a karambit he had secreted on his person. Giuseppe had his protests silenced by Teah loudly breaking his left tibia, much to the delight of the eccentrics. Giuseppe groaned an idle threat which provoked Teah to break his right femur. Demon Lord was roughly fondling Iris while Jesse, their mother, continued to cover Giuseppe Jr’s eyes and ears; begging for God to deliver them from this ordeal. Isis took this moment to resist, clawing at Demon Lord’s face. His response was a right hook that landed just under her left eye. Isis hit the carpet barely conscious, the bruise already starting to form under her tears. He then sliced off her bra and panties and raped her. Teah held Giuseppe's head, forcing his eyes open so he could watch.

Before he could discharge, le Fou returned with a pillowcase full of items in one hand and a book in the other. Ishtar could see it was her copy of Justine. From the sudden tension in the room Ishtar assumed interrupting Demon Lord’s raping had dire consequences for the interrupting party. Le Fou apologized saying, “Please forgive my rude interruption but I thought you’d find this of merit.” and handed him the book. Demon Lord took the book, his face expressed shock as he stared at the cover. He stood, his erection pointed directly at Ishtar, still staring at the book, “Which one of you animals reads this filth?!” he venomously demanded. The only person who spoke was Jessie, reciting the book of psalms from memory. “Brynhild!” Demon Lord was enraged “Cut pieces off that little boy until I get an answer!”

The blonde woman moved, but Zara grabbed Ishtar by the back of her neck so she couldn’t escape. Brynhild snatched Giuseppe from his mother’s arms effortlessly. She produced a balisong and threatened to cut off the crying boy’s middle finger. Giuseppe was having his broken arm manhandled by Teah. When Demon Lord started to sodomize Iris with his lizard skin shoe did Ishtar proclaim the book was her’s. Demon Lord approached Ishtar, kneeling in front of her asking, “This is your book?”

“Yes.” Ishtar murmured.

“You’ve actually read this?”

“Twice.” she nodded.

“What did you think about it?”

“Well, I like how the characters do whatever they want without fear of any consequences.”

“Have you read the sequel? Juliette, or Vice Amply Rewarded?”

“Yes, I finished it about a month ago.”

“What is your name Child?”

“Ishtar.”

“After a goddess of sex, desire, justice, and political power; perfection. Ishtar, our syndicate is full of libertines who follow the treatises outlined in de Sade’s books. Our money and power allow any action to go unpunished by law enforcement. That’s why no police are coming, none of your neighbors will check on you. I offer you an invitation into our syndicate, and a life of vice amply rewarded. Or you can watch us rape, torture and murder your family and luxuriate in it. But know that revenge and justice belong to the rich and powerful and none are as rich and powerful as us. We’ll never be arrested or tried for this. No one would deign to take our lives on your behalf.”

Ishtar thought it over. Her father was a successful contractor out of high school until three years ago, when he injured his back on the job. But because Giuseppe wasn’t following established safety protocols, the company refused to pay his medical bills. He exhausted their savings on a lawsuit he lost. All because he wanted the world to understand he was a real man, full of arrogance and machismo. In the seven years since Giuseppe Jr was born, Ishtar could count on one hand the number of times her father had a meaningful conversation with her; save holidays, birthdays, and half assed parenting during the commercials of baseball games. His son was the focus of his love and affection. Why should she act in the interests of such a man?

Jessie Knoxville wasn’t Ishtar or Isis’ biological mother. That honor belonged to Isabelle Flores-Knoxville, currently known as Prisoner #97S444. She was convicted 12 years ago for arson in the second degree and two counts of attempted murder for fire bombing a warehouse owned by an alleged racist. Two security guards were present with one dying, though she was found not guilty of one count of murder in the first degree. Sentence: 18 years, eligible for parole in five which was denied for amassing other charges while incarcerated. Jessie Knoxville was a woman who assumed her first two marriages to abusive douchebags were due to her lack of faith in God. Every ill and woe in this world was due one’s poor relationship with God, according to her. She became devout and seven months later she meets Giuseppe Knoxville. After a 298 day courtship they were married, which Jessie believed was God’s blessing on her. Ten months later Giuseppe Jr was born, another miracle she attributed to God because her first two marriages produced no children. God didn’t keep her from gaining 65 lbs from an increasingly sedentary lifestyle since becoming pregnant.

Ishtar wished her sister refused to move about just to spite her, knowing once her room became Ishtar’s, she’d never get it back. But the truth was Giuseppe squandered their college fund on that failed lawsuit, and Isis would throw this in their father’s face whenever Jessie wasn’t in earshot. But that was a smokescreen for Isis did not talent of any kind. Her grades have always been poor, since kindergarten. Jessie and Ishtar have openly pondered if she has an undiagnosed learning deficiency. She couldn’t learn high school cheerleading routines, sing to save her life or act her way through a high school play. She couldn’t paint, draw, sculpt or weave.

She could barely add an app to her phone without assistance.

Giuseppe Jr was only seven and understood his parents would never believe he could sin. Twice his school accused him of vandalism and both times they denied he was capable of such behaviour. Ishtar once accused him of stealing a pair of her panties, but their parents assumed she’d misplaced them. Isis accused him of stealing some money from her and nothing was done. He acted with impunity and at that thought Ishtar had her answer. Thinking upon characters from the books she’d read, she put her hands on her hips and replied, “Vice amply rewarded please.” earning an applause and cheers from the eccentrics.

“Excellent!” Demon Lord mused, “You may have the honor of orchestrating their fates.”

“Do we have to kill them?” Ishtar asked.

“Only if you desire it child. Some fates are worse than death”

“Good. I really want them to suffer and go on suffering. I assume no act is taboo?”

“My child, if one here will not commit the act you envision, we can have someone here who will in thirty minutes.”

“In that case, I want one of you to sodomize my little brother.” Ishtar chose her words so the Giuseppe Jr wouldn’t understand. The eccentrics all looked to Teah, who released the father, licked his lips and took hold of the son. Brynhild took over the job of guarding the father while Demon Lord resumed his raping of Isis. Jessie became hysterical and tried to rush Teah, but Zara stopped her with a quick kick to her liver. By then Teah had the boy naked and on the carpet in front of his father. Teah removed his own clothing, revealing an uncircumcised member as large as Ishtar’s forearm. Using only his spittle as lubricant, Teah violently forced his prick into the boy, pulling his hair to keep his face in his father’s line of sight.

Jessie began to scream about the wrath of God and how vengeance will be his and how they’re all going to Hell. “Le Fou was it?” Ishtar asked of the little man to which he nodded, “Go into my bitch sister’s room, find her dildo and stuff it into my STEP mother’s mouth.”

“I thought these would come in handy.” Le Fou replied producing Isis’ John Holmes Realistic Dildo and a roll of duct tape from the pillow case. Zara zip tied Jessie’s hand behind her back as Le Fou approached. Between the two of them, it only took 50 seconds to get the dildo secured in her mouth.

Ishtar used the basting brush from the kitchen to paint an inverted pentagram on her father’s face with the blood leaking from her brother’s continually violated anus. She then kicked him in the ribs six times before asking someone to castrate him. Brynhild was happy to oblige. Le Fou brought her a fillet knife from the kitchen and helped Ishtar strip and restrain Giuseppe while Brynhild did the deed. Ishtar took her father’s genitalia and put them in the microwave and set it to cook on full power for 29 minutes. Giuseppe fainted from the pain, much to the disgust of the eccentrics.

Ishtar then approached Teah, staring at Jessie as she said, “I want you to discharge in my mouth so I can show these cunts I’m in for well more than a pound.” Teah intensified his thrusting to expedite orgasam. When on the verge, he pulled out so swiftly splattered wherever possible. Ishtar aimed the blood and shit covered member to her mouth. Ishtar was startled by the kinetic energy of the discharge; it’s thickness made it impossible to swallow in two gulps. What she couldn't swallow, she spat in her little brother’s face. Taking this cue, Demon Lord pulled out and discharged his thin, yet plentiful semen all over Giuseppe Jr’s face; the eccentrics applauded.

Ishtar went to the kitchen and returned with a can of insecticide. She handed it to Brynhild and ordered her to shove it in Jessie cunt. Upon hearing this, Jessie offered the fiercest resistance she could, which was futile given her condition. Brynhild laughed as dodged and blocked Jessie’s kicking as a diversion, Teah grabbed her by the neck, picked her up and slammed her back into the armchair only Giuseppe was allowed to sit in. Before she could recover, Brynhild tore her cheap sweat pants and cheap panties off and Teah grabbed her heels and spread her legs as wide as possible. Ishtar took the cap off and opened her mother’s vagina for penetration. Brynhild lubricated the spray can with juices fingered out of Jessie and herself and used both hands to shove it in. She simply whimpered through the ordeal, until the spray activated; then she screamed and thrashed about as best she could. This amused the eccentrics. Teah and Brynhild released her so she could fall to the floor and give birth to the spray can.

Isis began to stir and at Ishtar's command Zara stood her up by her hair and cuffed her behind the back. Ishtar caressed her sister's smooth skin with the flat of the fillet knife as she spoke, “How many times did you call me lesbian, dyke, creep and retarded?”

“Please Ish…”

“How many times did you punch, kick and slap me? Why did you hate me just for being your sister?”

“I'm sorry Ishtar. Please stop…”

“YOU'RE ONLY SORRY TO SAVE YOUR MISERABLE LIFE YOU STUPID FUCKING COW! But I have no plans to murder you, yet. I want you to experience the lesbianism that disgusts you so. Zara, can you make this bitch cum like she never came before?”

“Not my bag babe, but Brynhild can.” Zara shoved Isis into the armchair and spread her legs like Teah had done Jessie as Brynhild knelt and began cunnilingus. Meanwhile Jessie began to make coughing and choking noises in between random spasms. Demon Lord lacerated her left cheek while cutting the tape. He removed the dildo from her mouth and she vomited violently. This brought Giuseppe back to consciousness, who could only wail in pain and despair.

“Yes! Oh my gods yes!” Ishtar shouted. “That sound is what I wanted to hear! The sound of a man being devoured by is despair, his anguish!” Ishtar stripped off her clothing and began frigging her hairy cunt. “Teah,” she commanded, “fuck my father up the ass. Lube it with his whore’s vomit. Le Fou, fuck his whore up the ass. Have them face to face so they can kiss each other. I wish to discharge my fuck upon their faces.” Demon Lord to position behind Zara adding, “This cunt craves prick, and prick it shall have!”

It was arranged and performed as described.

When all save Giuseppe and Jessie had discharged, Ishtar packed a suitcase with her meager belongings. She dressed and departed with the eccentrics. Teah Demon Lord, and Le Fou were in one car, Zara, Brynhild and Ishtar in another. Demon Lord’s group had sped off ahead, and as Ishtar’s group followed the spotted Giuseppe Jr three blocks away. He walked like a zombie, naked and dripping blood from his rectum. Ishtar bade Brynhild pull over and she opened her door saying, “Junior! Thank God you got out of there too! Quickly, get in before they find out we’re gone.” Giuseppe Jr was apprehensive, also seven and in a lot of pain. No one answered any door he knocked on, no passerby offered him help or listened to his pleas. This was the only help offered him since leaving the condo. He took Ishtar’s hand and got in the car. Ishtar closed the door behind him and told Brynhild to drive. The doors loudly locked and they sped to catch up to the other car.

“Relax little brother, everything is gonna be alright from now on.” Ishtar smiled. This brought a cackle from the driver seat. Giuseppe Jr got a good look at Brynhild in the driver seat and panicked. He tried to open the door but couldn’t, the doors had childproof locks.

[raywritesthings]

Baby, Won’t You Please Come Home 10/11

My Writing Fandom: Arrow, The Flash Characters: Oliver Queen, Laurel Lance, Quentin Lance, John Diggle, Felicity Smoak, Thea Queen, Roy Harper, Moira Queen, Joanna de la Vega, Dinah Lance, Eddie Thawne Pairings: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen, Thea Queen/Roy Harper Summary: Oliver returns to Starling City after the Undertaking only to discover that he’s not the only one who has absented it; Laurel Lance has seemingly vanished with barely a trace for the last four months. As he struggles to piece together the mystery of what caused her to flee the city they both call home, Oliver must also ask himself if he can make things right after leaving the woman he loves a second time. If he can find her at all. AO3 link

Eddie really could have picked a better week to start at his new precinct.

Rain continued to lash against his windshield, making it near impossible to see where he was driving with half the city’s lights still out. His siren did the job of getting everybody else out of the way as best as they could.

Their manpower was stretched to the limit as calls continued to flood in of accidents and emergencies resulting from the explosion. They’d been hit themselves, and Eddie had seen Allen loaded into an ambulance before heading out in his cruiser. Nobody had told West yet, as far as he knew, but there was backup on the way to his and Chyre’s location.

“Any units in the vicinity of 6th and Crossway?” Dispatch came over on the scanner which they’d only just got back up running when he’d left.

Eddie looked around for a street sign. It was a good thing he’d taken the initiative to tour through the city and look over some maps in his preparation for the move. “I might be close,” he announced.

“Caller says a woman’s collapsed on the sidewalk. Witnesses don’t want to move her. They think she’s pregnant.”

“Ambulance on the way?” He took the next turn sharp and had to swerve this and that way around cars either abandoned or stuck on the road.

“Closest one could be half an hour.”

“Okay, I found Crossway. I’m on it.”

Eddie pulled the cruiser up as close as he could to where several people were stood around on the sidewalk. Some of them turned as his door slammed.

“She’s waking up, officer,” a woman said.

Eddie hurried past them all. “Ma’am? Can you hear me?”

She was on the ground, blonde hair falling over her face and her arms still wrapped protectively around her middle. If Eddie had to guess, she looked to be around his age. Her eyes squeezed shut as a hiss of pain left her.

Eddie helped her to sit up slowly. “Try not to make any sudden movements. You had a fall.” He began checking her over, first for a concussion, but fortunately she didn’t look to have hit her head. “I’m Detective Thawne. Can you tell me your name?”

“What happened?” She asked instead. “There was this- this wave—”

“I know, but it’s alright now. I’m gonna want to take you to a hospital so they can check for any internal damage, but you seem—”

The woman gasped. “The baby.” She looked down “Oh my God, I think my water broke.”

“Oh my God,” said Eddie without thinking. She turned panicked eyes up at him. “I mean, uh, are you- are you feeling contractions?”

“I can’t be. This- this can’t be happening.”

Eddie felt perhaps the most out of his depth he’d ever been on the job. “Okay. Let’s just get you to the hospital, and they can confirm.” He slowly got her onto her feet and ushered her past the staring crowd back to his cruiser. Eddie grabbed a blanket out of the trunk and passed it to her before climbing into the driver’s seat and switching the siren back on.

They had marginally better luck with the traffic, and he kept pushing through any gap he could safely find. Every few seconds, his eyes jumped to the rearview mirror to check on her.

“This can’t be happening,” she kept repeating. Eddie started to worry she was going into some kind of shock.

“Everything’s going to be alright, ma’am—”

“Miss.”

“What?”

“I’m twenty-eight years old, I’m a single mom, and I am going into labor two months early,” his passenger listed off through clenched teeth. “It’s. Miss.”

Eddie gulped. “Yes, ma’am — er, miss. Sorry.”

He pulled straight up to the emergency room, siren blaring, and left his cruiser parked there as he helped her inside.

“I need an obstetrician or somebody! She’s having a baby!”

Even with all the chaos, his dramatics got them into a room soon enough. He learned from a nurse’s questioning that the woman’s name was Laurel Lance and that she was only about seven months along.

“I can’t have the baby yet, can I?”

“At this stage, there’s a high chance of the baby being healthy. And since your water has broken, delaying labor has a risk of infection. The doctor will be here soon, and we can get started.”

“Oh my God,” Laurel Lance repeated. Her eyes screwed up in pain for a moment. He wavered on the balls of his feet, unsure what he should be doing.

The nurse turned to him. “Are you the father?”

“What?” Eddie rapidly shook his head, eyes wide. “No, no I am not. We just met. I’m a detective with the CCPD.”

“Well, Detective, if I can ask you to remain while I step out for a minute. Encourage her to breathe.”

“Uh, right.” Eddie watched helplessly as the nurse strode from the room, hopefully organizing equipment and personnel necessary to deliver a baby. He didn’t even know what all was necessary for delivering a baby.

He turned back to the expecting mother. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Could you call my mom?” She gestured to the pile of her clothes on a chair, which she’d had to trade for a hospital gown.

“Of course.” He fished out her phone and stepped out into the hallway.

There were only two contacts in her phone, both labeled as parents. Eddie couldn’t help frowning in a little worry, but hit the button for the mother nonetheless.

“Laurel? Is everything alright? All the streetlights went out, it’s an absolute zoo downtown.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Lance. This is Detective Eddie Thawne. I had to take your daughter to the hospital. She’s gone into an early labor.”

“Oh, God. Is it Central City General?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can. Are she and the baby—?”

“The doctors are optimistic. I can stay with her until you get here.”

“Yes, thank you. Thank you so much, detective.” Mrs. Lance hung up and Eddie checked in briefly via radio to let the precinct know his status. Then he marched back into the room.

“How’s the breathing going?”

“It’s good,” Laurel grunted. She looked up at him then, and a breathy laugh left her.

Eddie was feeling very confused now on top of the nerves. “Is there something funny?”

“No. Not really. You just do sort of look like him. The father.”

“Oh.”

“He should be here.” Laurel’s head fell back onto the pillow, a tear leaking from the corner of her eye and down the side of her face. “I’m so stupid.”

Eddie didn’t really know what to say to that. There was a lot about her situation that concerned him as a cop. Why the lack of contacts in her phone? Why had she been alone when the accelerator went off? And just where was the father of this baby?

He winced in sympathy as she gave another hiss of pain.

“I know it doesn’t fix anything, but I’m here. I can, I don’t know, hold your hand if that helps. Till your mom arrives?”

She blinked up at him for a moment. “What did you say your name was again?”

“Eddie.”

She smiled, though it wavered slightly. “Thanks, Eddie. I could use some help right now.”

Just as he took her hand, the nurse returned with a doctor.

“Miss Lance, we’re hoping to get started as soon as possible, but there may be a slight complication. The hospital is running low on pain relievers.”

“Oh great,” said Laurel. She may or may not have huffed out a laugh.

“We’ll do everything we can, but the volume of patients that have come in tonight is unprecedented.”

Laurel looked up at him. “I hope you don’t like your hand.”

“Your mother can tap in if you’re in danger of crushing it.”

He ended up getting very lucky, because Mrs. Lance showed up just before they were getting Laurel ready to start pushing. Eddie was ushered out into the hall with a hurried thanks, but that didn’t do much to block out the pained yells coming from the room.

She really did have a voice on her.

—-

“Quentin?”

He slowly blinked his eyes open to spot one of the nurses in his doorway. When had he dozed off?

“Your landlady stopped by to drop off a package that came for you,” she continued despite his lack of greeting. “Looks like someone thought you could do with a little holiday spirit.”

“No one’s sending me presents this year,” he stated. Because of him Hilt was gone, Sara was still on the run from that crazy cult that wanted her back, and Laurel…he fixed his gaze determinedly on the ceiling and waited out the familiar stinging at his eyes. Maybe there was a bright side to his being hospitalized over the holidays; without his daughter there was no one else to help him home from the bar. “Probably got the address wrong.”

“Well, I’ll leave it with you. You can open it whenever you feel up to it,” the nurse struggled cheerfully on. At the least she did just that and mercifully left him alone again. Quentin sighed, then with a bit of effort pushed himself up with one hand while grabbing for the small package with another. Settling back against the pillows he looked it over. Plain brown box, no return address. Could be considered suspicious.

Quentin couldn’t find it in himself to care. He tore the box open. Inside was another, smaller box gift wrapped in Christmas colors. With growing impatience he ripped open the paper and set the lid aside.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” he grumbled upon seeing the phone sitting inside. What, had the Arrow decided he needed an upgrade for the New Year?

He powered it up, not surprised at all to find a contact pre-programmed in. It was even displaying a text already. But then he read the words.

Merry Christmas, Daddy.

The phone slipped from his fingers to land in his lap.

It couldn’t be. After all these months, all this time, and nothing. Here, now, was the proof that his daughter was alive, was still out there?

That she wanted to speak to him?

Quentin picked up the phone again and made the call. The phone rang and rang and rang. He started to wonder if there had been a mistake, or this was some kind of joke someone was pulling on him. But then the line was picked up.

“Hello?”

His mouth fell open, and it was a struggle for him to respond. “Dinah?”

“Oh, Quentin,” she said. He thought he could hear her voice shaking. “Quentin, I’m so sorry.”

“Dinah, what is this? What’s going on?”

“I’ve wanted to tell you for some time. But you have to understand, I needed her to trust me, or she would’ve gone off on her own again and we would’ve lost her.”

“Dinah—”

“Laurel’s been staying with me.”

The air left his lungs in a great rush.

“About two months after she disappeared she showed up at my door. Quentin, I couldn’t turn her away, and I couldn’t make her come forward, not after everything I’d already done. And then things started getting so dangerous in Starling it didn’t seem a good idea at all to encourage her to go back. You have every right to be angry with me,” she added when he remained silent.

But did he? Did he have that right? If he wasn’t so exhausted he probably would have let loose with a thousand recriminations — how could Dinah think she had a right to hide Laurel from him when he was the parent that had been there with her all her life?

And yet he was hiding Sara just the same.

“Why didn’t she want to come home?” He heard himself ask instead. “Was she in trouble?  Was it something I did?”

“No, Quentin. She just didn’t want to disappoint you.” Dinah paused a moment longer, then said, “She was pregnant.”

He clutched the phone even tighter. “Was?” He asked, voice hoarse.

“She went into labor just a few hours ago.”

“She- she did?”

“It was early, Quentin. Laurel meant for you to get the phone in time to be here. If you wanted, that was.”

An early labor. Laurel herself had been just under a week early. He’d used to say that she hadn’t been able to wait to take on the world. He hadn’t said much of anything like that to her in a long while.

Then the rest of Dinah’s words caught up to him. “Of course I’d wanna be there. I’m her father.” He knew it was his own fault that hadn’t been enough to allow Laurel to feel safe telling him this. He’d told the Arrow as much. “I’m- I’m gonna be a grandfather.”

His breath had nearly failed him there. For a single moment, the pain both physical and emotional seemed to lift, and he could remember the good things about life again. Sara was alive. Laurel was safe. She was having a baby.

“Yes, Quentin.” He could hear the smile in Dinah’s voice. “Laurel’s still in labor. It’s not too late. She would want you to be here.”

“I can’t.” It was a struggle to force the words out through a throat that was determined to close up. Frustrated tears leaked from his eyes. “I’m in the hospital. There was a raid, went bad.”

“I hadn’t heard. Are you alright?”

“I’m not so bad,” he dismissed. “But they won’t let me discharge myself, even for this. Damnit.”

“Do you want me to tell her?”

“No, I don’t want her to worry. Just say I’ll be there as soon as I can. I promise. You should get back in there, she shouldn’t be alone.”

“I only stepped out to take your call. There’s a detective from the Central City Police Department in there right now.”

He wanted to ask what a detective had needed to be there for in the first place, but the longer he delayed her the longer Laurel was without any family. “Get his badge number. I’ll have to let his Captain know he’s a good cop.”

“Of course. Take care, Quentin.”

“You too.”

He hung up, and all the quiet sounds of the hospital slowly filtered back in. Stuck in a hospital while Laurel was in another hospital 600 miles away. That just figured, didn’t it?

There was no telling when they’d release him. And all the while he’d be worrying; Laurel would tell Dinah not to give any bad news over the phone. If he could just send somebody to make sure she was okay...

There was only one person he knew he could call in on this.

Quentin fished around for his actual phone on the little bedside table. From there it took a bit of scrolling to find the number he wanted.

Hopefully the Queens wouldn’t mind a surprise for Christmas.

—-

Oliver barely spared his mother and Thea a hello once he returned to the manor. He instead continued straight onto his room and took out a bag which he started packing with clothes and other supplies. The first possible lead he’d had in weeks, and he was hoping it was wrong. But he couldn’t discount the idea that Laurel might be in Central, even if they’d just suffered a disaster the likes of which no one had ever seen before.

Thea pushed open his door without even knocking. “What’s going on? Thought we were doing Christmas.”

“Change of plans. I’ve maybe got a lead on Laurel, and I have to go out of town. Can you make something up to tell mom?”

Thea’s eyes had lit up, and she nodded several times. “Okay, yeah. Yeah, I can do that.”

He’d only just finished zipping the bag closed when his sister came running back in.

“Ollie, mom says there’s a phone call for you. From Officer Lance.”

For a moment, he stood frozen. If Lance was calling, he had to have news. Whether it was good or bad…

The next thing he knew, he was taking the steps two at a time and grabbing the phone right out of his startled mother’s hands. “Officer Lance?”

“Queen. Listen, I don’t know how to tell you this, but I heard from Laurel. Well, her mother, actually.”

Her mother. His instinct had been right. Oliver had to fight down the panic that threatened to rise up.

“Is she alright?”

“Yeah, for the most part. Thing is, she...she’s having a baby.”

Oliver felt his heart stop for a single beat. His mouth had fallen open but he made no sound.

“I guess she thought I’d be ashamed of her. Maybe I would’ve, I don’t know. With Merlyn dead, the whole thing’s a mess.”

Tommy. Oliver did the math in his head and squeezed his eyes shut. No wonder Laurel had felt she had no one to turn to. Her cryptic emails suddenly made a perfect amount of sense. I’m running out of time. Running out of time to decide what to do about the baby.

His eyes squeezed shut, and he reached out for the banister, trying to ground himself. “But they’re okay?”

“As far as I know. I talked to Dinah, but I’m stuck in this hospital till they discharge me.”

Oliver winced. Lance was only hurt because of him, and now it was keeping him from his family. From his new grandchild.

“I wanted to ask if you could go down for me.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, well, you’ve changed a lot this last year or so. Told Laurel that, actually, one of the last things we talked about before the whole Undertaking business. And I know you care about her.”

“Of course.”

“Just let me know how she’s doing.”

“I will.” Oliver hung up. There wasn’t anything else that needed saying, not until he knew how Laurel was.

Laurel and the baby. A baby. Of all the reasons, he’d somehow never even guessed.

“Did they find Laurel?” It was his mother who asked.

“Yeah. But Lance needs me to go in his place. He’s in the hospital.” He turned an apologetic look on his family. “I have to go.”

His mom didn’t even look surprised. “Of course. Call us as soon as you can.”

“Thank you.” He hefted his bag back onto one shoulder and walked to the door.

“Wait, Ollie!” Thea rushed down the remaining steps. “What’s going on with Laurel?”

He didn’t stop. Oliver went straight to the garage and to his bike. Within minutes, he was speeding down the drive. It would be a long night and morning, but he was determined to get there as soon as possible.

The hospital was one of many places in Central that resembled a zoo in the immediate aftermath of the city’s particle accelerator explosion. As such, Oliver did his best to navigate the building via the signs posted every few feet while dodging around harried staff members and other visitors alike. Eventually he found his way to the maternity ward. Steeling himself with a deep breath, he began to walk down the ward scanning each room for a familiar face, the same face he’d been searching for the last two months.

But halfway down the ward was the nursery, and standing in front of the glass partition was a Lance indeed.

She looked away from the rows of infants at the sound of his approach, her eyes bright and warm. “Oliver,” she greeted, stepping forward to wrap him in a hug.

“Mrs.—”

“It’s Dinah, please. Thank you so much for coming. It’s such a shame Quentin couldn’t make it yet. How is he?”

“He’s supposed to make a full recovery,” he reported. “Is the- the baby…?”

“Second row, three from the left,” she told him quickly. Oliver dutifully followed her directions, getting his first look at the child of Dinah Laurel Lance. She was sleeping, her tiny balled up fists just poking out from her blanket, and a single tuft of hair, blonde in the light, was escaping from under the pink cap.

“Wow.”

“She’s just under two months premature,” Dinah was telling him, and Oliver worked to tear his eyes away from the tiny bundle in her cradle. “The doctors think the shock from whatever happened with that explosion induced an early labor, but they’ve reassured us she should be fine.”

“That’s good. That’s- that’s really…I’m glad to hear that. She looks healthy. She looks beautiful,” he said with earnest feeling. Any child of Laurel’s would be beautiful, he’d never doubted that, but to be seeing her here, now…

He hadn’t anticipated this. The closest comparison he could draw upon was a memory nearly two decades old; his father’s hand had been laid on his shoulder as they’d walked up to his mother’s hospital bedside, and Oliver had taken a first peek at the infant nestled in her arms, the little sister he’d spent hours upon hours complaining to Tommy about prior to that very moment. Then Thea Dearden Queen had blinked her baby blue eyes up at him, and he’d fallen in love.

And somehow he was feeling that again. He didn’t understand it, it was simply happening, a warm tide of feeling threatening to bubble up and overtake him at just the sight of that little baby. It didn’t seem to matter that he was here as an envoy for Quentin Lance, a stand-in for family. Maybe it was just that through all the years and ups and downs, the Lances were family. And now this newborn life, she was part of it.

He exhaled a shaky breath and blinked to hold the moisture gathering in his eyes at bay. Dinah didn’t seem to mind the overly emotional response; perhaps she was glad to have someone here to share in her joy of becoming a grandmother. Oliver was finally able to dredge up a grin to match the kind smile playing at her lips.

“So, another Dinah, right?”

The older woman chuckled. “Yes. But her middle name this time.” She turned back towards the glass separating them from the infants. “Laurel was very sure. She named her Olivia.”

Oliver froze. The world narrowed down to this maternity ward in this hospital, him and Dinah Lance standing in front of the nursery with Laurel resting in a room down the hall, and absolutely nothing else. None of the rest of it mattered. His mind had gone completely blank save for the words she named her Olivia over and over again.

“Olivia.” His voice didn’t sound his own, hoarse and light with something like hope woven into it. The baby—Olivia—lay there in her crib, and he could not possibly take his eyes off of her—Olivia.

His math had been off by two months. Laurel’s daughter was named Olivia. She had been very sure. Sure enough to name her daughter after him.

“Why don’t I give you a moment alone? I need to check on Laurel. She’ll want to know that you’re here.” He hadn’t even registered when the older woman had placed a gentle hand on his arm, but he felt the brief squeeze before she let go and only faintly heard her shoes against the tile signaling her retreat.

It was for the best; trying to split his attention right now between Laurel’s mother and her daughter required more effort than he was willing to spare. One of his hands had come up to the glass while the other he pressed to his mouth. He needed to feel grounded. This couldn’t be real.

Laurel’s daughter…his…?

Dinah had been happy to see him, had told him everything he could possibly need to know about the baby, had told him the name Laurel had chosen for her. And Laurel would want to know he was here, would be…happy?

“Olivia,” he breathed again, just to hear it. The infant slept on with no change, but he couldn’t seem to get enough of looking at her. He couldn’t imagine not standing here watching over this small, helpless child. His child.

How could he not have realized the instant he laid eyes on her? How could he have ever thought otherwise? These last two months of searching, of worrying, of very nearly giving up hope, only to culminate in this. A daughter. A miracle.

Oliver took a large gulp of breath before pressing his lips tight together, trying in vain to hold in the swell of emotion threatening to overtake him. All those years on the island and as a vigilante, teaching himself control, suppression, stoicism, none of it had prepared him for this.

And he was so glad. All the things he’d done, all the damage he’d endured, it hadn’t tainted this. Nothing could take this moment from him.

Oliver Queen stood in front of the nursery with shoulders shaking, eyes misting over and, for the first time he could remember, let go completely uncaring of who might be watching. He’d never known he could cry for feeling so full.

[themusicalhermit]

To gauge interest, have what would probably be the opening scenes of that Boombox idea I have kicking around. The story would be vaguely based off of my own coming out

I don’t have any italics here because again, I’m more just gauging interest.

This is entirely safe for work, as it is more just ground-laying.

“Thank you Paris, and good night,” he shouted into the microphone to a screaming crowd.

Smiling and waving, he paused to give a small salute to the sound techs at the back of the hall. A refrain of the last song pumped through the speakers as he stepped away from the turntables and, waving to the crowd, stepped backstage.

“Nice show tonight, kid,” said his agent, a bespectacled, tired, and dog-faced man named Brenner. “You’ve got another box of fan mail to go through at the hotel, by the way. Your fans are rather old fashioned, you know.”

“Aw, that isn’t a problem, man,” Lúcio replied, nearly bouncing from the energy of another performance. “Is it a big box?”

Brenner’s lips turned up briefly. “Gigantic. Should I get you more paper and envelopes?”

Lúcio paused as he entered his dressing room, hanging back on the door frame. “I’m pretty sure stamps would be good too, Brenn.” Smiling, he winked at the older man. “Gotta be able to send the letters where they ought’a go, you know?”

“Right.” Brenner’s lips turned up again as he spun and waved over his shoulder. “So paper, envelopes, stamps.”

“And coffee!”

“Paper, envelopes, stamps, coffee. Got it. See you in thirty.”

Lúcio stuck an arm over his shoulder and waved, laughing as he flung himself forward into the room. Humming, he grabbed a croissant from the tray on the table. He took a bite, dancing his way around the couch to the console. His fingers tapped quickly across the keys as he placed the call.

His grandmother picked up, her eyes squinting at the screen suspiciously. “Hello, hello? Who is... ah, Lúcio!” Her face broke into a wide smile as he greeted her. “Wait a minute, wait a minute — Rosario, Artur! Lúcio is calling! From, where are you now, my dear, Paris? Paris!”

His parents and, shortly thereafter, siblings were soon crowded around his grandmother. They talked excitedly with him, asking him for this or that souvenir or postcard, asking how his show had gone, if he’d had been to the Eiffel Tower, if he was eating well, if he’d been to the Louvre, if Parisian coffee was better or worse than what they had.

Lúcio smiled, joking with them as he answered all their questions and displayed what souvenirs he’d already bought for them. Soon his siblings ran off, saying that they had to get ready for work. Which left him to chat idly with his parents and grandmother as he changed into his street clothes.

Unfortunately they saw fit to ask him if he had found anyone to date yet. The question became more frequent the closer he got to thirty, but it still rankled him all the same. “No, mom,” he sighed, pulling up the hood of his jacket and putting on sunglasses. “I’ve not found anyone I’m interested in yet.”

“Well you’d best start looking,” his mother said, mock frowning. “I’d like some grandkids someday! Maybe you can find a French wife while you’re there!”

“Well that would require me finding a girl who actually interests me,” he muttered to himself. Forcing a smile, he said more loudly, “Well I could work on that, but I’m kinda busy with my music right now, mom. Haven’t really had time to go on any dates recently.”

His grandmother clucked her tongue and pulled the screen towards her. “Don’t mind your mother, my dear,” she said, shooting a stern look over the top of the camera. Turning back, she smiled at him again. “If you haven’t found someone, you haven’t found someone. You’re still young.”

He smiled gratefully. “Thanks grand—”

“Besides,” she continued, “men have longer expiry dates than women. No one will look twice if you go for a girl decades younger than you, especially now that you’re famous. Why, when I was your age —”

His smile faltered. “Oh, wow, would you look at the time,” he said, holding up his wrist and mentally cursing when he realised he hadn’t put on his watch. “I need to get going to the hotel. I’ve got a meeting with Brenner.”

His family said goodbye, wishing him luck. Lúcio smiled until the screen went dark. With sagged shoulders, he put it in his pack and hefted it the bag over one shoulder. As he closed the door behind him, his phone buzzed.

De: Papai

“Lúc, don’t let your mom and grandma upset you. It’s like your grandma said - if you haven’t yet found someone, you just haven’t yet found someone. My only hope is that when you do find someone he will treat you right. No matter who he is. Enjoy Paris, and know we will love you no matter what.”

Lúcio stared at the phone, knowing that he was being wishful when he read in the ‘he.’ It was a habit he had developed as a teenager, and one that was easy to hide in the conjugations of his native tongue. Still, he couldn’t contain his smile at his father’s words. He quickly texted back a heart as he left the venue.

“There you are,” Brenner said, scratching at his jowls as he handed over a cup of lukewarm coffee. “I was beginning to think you had gotten lost in Les Halles again.”

Laughing, Lúcio shook his head and took a long sip of coffee. “Oh, man, you would not believe how many people wanted signatures. I think I may have to ask you to get me a new box of sharpies for the next concert.”

“Already?” Brenner snorted. “You know, you are one piece of work, kid. Most celebs I’ve worked with don’t care this much about their fans.”

“Being nice to fans can mean the world to them,” Lúcio countered, hopping over to the dinner table and the large box it supported. “Besides, I’d not be where I am now without them.”

He looked around the room with its gilded lamps, silk curtains, and plush carpets, remembering days of bare, flickering bulbs, grilled windows, and the luxury that was a bare concrete floor. He shook the memories out of his head. The slums had been rebuilt years ago with his help.

With his fans’ help.

He took another sip of coffee, sitting before the cardboard box and holding out a hand. Brenner slid a box cutter into his grasp not ten seconds later. “Alright,” Lúcio said, setting the coffee aside and bracing a hand on a corner of the box. “Let’s get this party started!”

Most of the letters were standard stuff — teenagers and university students telling him how much his music rocked, how popping it was, how inspiring. A few older fans wrote of how they were amazed at the vibrancy, the creativity. One letter, however, stuck out. And not only because it lacked a return address, or even a name.

“Hello,” it began, with three exclamation points and a smiley face. “Now I won’t bore you with the details of how many times I wrote this,” said the next line, with a re- inserted hastily above the ‘w’ of write, “but I just wanted to let you know how much I admire the way you dealt with them Vishkar suits. Managed to get all the folk in town on your side, even got the tech to help you fight! Cripes, I am just in awe. A real freedom fighter. I’m a freedom fighter too, you know! Bit less successful than you, though. :) You fought off the suits (!!!) and saved your home(!!!!!), leaving it better than it was before(!!!!!! *.* ) I sometimes” the words were scribbled out and a new paragraph began.

“I’ve not been watching your carrear long (bad connection back home :) ) but I want to say that I really like your music. Call me crazy, ( ;P ) but it’s almost like it’s got a healing kwality to it. Couldn’t get tickets to the show, so I think I’ll have a listen outside with some swagmen I’ve come to know. Paris has some real intresting blokes crawling around its underbellie. Some of them know the old catacomes, which is ace. Real nice bloke named Thierry even pointed out one of the lines that,” again the words were scribbled out.

“Soz, mate, can’t tell you about that. Now, I would rewrite this letter (again >:O ), but I keep being prodded at by this fat ass who wants to get a move on. :) Probably didn’t expect to be sat underground all afternoon while I pen letters. But, hey, I pay him to stick around, so it’s all fair. Besides, if he leaves that just means more for me! :D Sure I’ll be alo” Again, the words were scribbled out, with the word ‘alone’ barely visible.

“Anyway, I know you usually read your fan mail and answer it yourself. Don’t worry about the lack of address or name — don’t think it’d get through if you put either on whatever you’d send. Just leave your letter (assumming you write one) ((I’d really apreciate it if you did)) Leave your letter if you write one in the cloak of that horse-riding crowned dude outside of the Hunchback of Notre Dame church. I can’t remember the name, but I’ll be swinging by there for Vespers every night this week (don’t tell anyone, I’ll know it was you if anyone’s waiting for me) and can pick it up after mass.”

The letter closed with a “Righto then, toodles” and several more exclamation marks and another smiley face.