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euphoricfilter · 2 years

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Helping Hands || Min Yoongi

Pairing: Caretaker! Yoongi x Kindergarten teacher! Reader

Genre: Fluff || Smut || Strangers to lovers || Non-idol AU

Summary: Yoongi always had a knack for fixing things, and with producing getting him nowhere, he ends up working for the school his long-time friend Seokjin, teaches at. With his new job, he meets you, and although your first encounter hadn’t been the best; at least not in Yoongi’s eyes, he could have never guessed how your relationship would bloom. And Yoongi gets to show you his hands can do more than fix your faulty heating.

Word Count: 13.3k

Tags/ Warnings: fluffy, smut in the forms of: oral (f. receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, protected sex (because that’s cool), they hold hands while they fuck, boobie play, squirting, boyfriends taekook, namjoon is a bit of an ick.

Notes: this idea was derived from a tiktok, but the original creator has deleted the video :’( but the idea of someone having a crush on you and helping fix up your classroom was too endearing to pass! when i thought about writing this i didn’t think it would be very long, and i thought how on earth am i meant to write a decent story from this vague-ish concept but here we are 13k words of two people falling in love. considering i’ve never had a s/o i don’t think i did too bad… but maybe this is just what i want from someone i like even if the idea of becoming a teacher makes me want to hurl. if there's mistakes, no there isn't.

edit: the tiktok that inspired this fic! thank you @devilonmyshouder for finding it! my savior 🥲

<3 <3 <3

“Have you asked for her number yet?”

“What?” Yoongi releases a long sigh, head turning so his eyes can meet Seokjin’s, who had a sly smile pasted on his annoyingly handsome face. And it’s at times like these where Yoongi wonders why he still puts up with Jin’s bullshit.

“The kindergarten teacher you’ve been staring at since we sat down” Jin points out, watching you as you laugh with a few of your co-workers on the other side of the cafeteria; in perfect eyeshot from where Yoongi sits.

“No? Why would I do that?” said man asks, stabbing a piece of meat with more force than it deserved. Yoongi has to will himself to not let his eyes wander back in your direction; like hell would he give Seokjin what he wanted. Yoongi doubted he had enough patience stored up to deal with the impending teasing that his long-time friend would surely thrust upon him if he were to prove his point correct. Plus, he was nothing more than being a little intrigued by you.

“Because you clearly like her” Jin tuts.

“Do not”

“Do too. You can’t deny your little crush. I’ve seen the way you look at her” Jin exasperates, flinging his arms above his head dramatically, catching the attention of a few other teaching staff scattered across the growingly scarce cafeteria.

Yoongi cringes, eyes squinting in distaste at his friend’s flamboyant antics that seemed to always garner the eyes of everyone around him. But Yoongi supposes with Jin’s face, it shouldn’t come as a surprise the attention always seemed to be on him, even if he was acting somewhat civilised. Yoongi had never thought of Jin as more than a friend, even if he did swing both ways; but, he could see why Jin’s face had such an appeal, even Aphrodite would have a run for her money if Jin were to rock up in those times, stealing the attention all for himself with his aggravatingly perfect face.

“It’s not a crush. This isn’t high school Hyung” Yoongi grunts, shoving his lunchbox back into his bag. Uncaring as he squashes a banana, already a little too overripe for his liking anyways.

You’d have to pay him millions before he dared touch the cafeteria food, in no way, shape or form would he risk growing a third arm from the slop they served. It’s offensive they had the gall to call it food, let alone serve it to the poor children. And he swears he saw one of the chefs spit in the pasta once, he doesn’t care if it adds flavour.

Now, Yoongi didn’t like children. Not in the slightest.

Thought they were disgusting, foul little creatures that had no sense of personal hygiene or self-awareness. With their sticky hands and voices that carried across miles, everything about children made Yoongi recoil.

And that may leave you wondering why on earth is Yoongi working in a school?

Money. That’s the simple answer.

Yoongi had a knack for fixing things, he’s good with his hands (interpret that how you will). And he really needed the money. His little ‘side hustle’ of producing only made him so much money, and as inflation increased, so did Yoongi’s bills, and slowly he had started finding it a little harder to pay bills and food for not only him but Holly; his cute little dog that he refused to believe wasn’t a puppy any longer. Jin had argued that Yoongi spoiled his dog, buying premium food and overpriced treats, but Holly only deserved the best.

Therefore, the job had to change and not his dog’s nutrition.

So, when the same Seokjin who complained about his pampered pup, had told him about the open position in the school he worked at, Yoongi was sceptical to say the least. He’d dropped out of college after a semester, taking on shoddy part-time jobs to pay for his producing equipment and clearly that had only brought him so far. So he couldn’t see any good reason to waltz back into a school.

Not only that, the thought of having to share space with tiny terrors for hours a day, 5 out of 7 days a week, the offer didn’t seem all that worth it. Until he saw the salary.

Not only was he now making 10 times more than he had been, basically teachers wages (still not enough but better than nothing), he got his own little office in the far end of campus, so he wouldn’t have to interact with any sticky babies and loud-mouthed teens unless absolutely necessary.

With his shiny new office, secluded from the crowd of teachers that gathered at lunch, Yoongi had zero intentions of sitting in the crusty cafeteria; even if his Jin Hyung had begged him for the first two weeks of his new job, to come and sit with him and his other teacher friends. He’d never enjoyed everyone gathering in one place to eat, crowds of people sounding more like squawking birds than hushed chatter that always ended up in arguments.

That was until Yoongi had met you. And suddenly the cafeteria seemed like the only place he wanted to be.

Pretty you who looked like a goddess among humans. Even with the splodges of paint staining your dress, and snotty babies clinging to you like nothing Yoongi had ever seen.

Yoongi had only been working at the school for a month, the start of the school year rolling by quicker than he had initially anticipated. And before he knew it, two weeks had passed by; and that second week on the jobs was when he had first ‘met’ you.

‘Met’ was generous. It was more a brief encounter where Yoongi couldn’t get the words off his tongue quick enough and had been left dumbstruck. Worried he had scared you off with how rude he must have been. You’d strutted out of your classroom, a model among the little children waddling behind you like little ducklings would their mother, hot on your tail as you led them to the bathrooms.

Yoongi had been fixing one of the fan units in the hallway, and you’d politely smiled up at him, making sure none of the children would knock the ladder Yoongi had been stood on, worried their little bodies would bulldoze into the wonky frame and Yoongi would be sent flying. And although that would make a memorable first impression, Yoongi didn’t want to be rushed to hospital with a concussion and his pride bruised.

‘Good morning’

Two simple words and Yoongi felt as if his heart would implode; he felt silly, coughing, and then only managing a curt nod as a reply, words sticky on his tongue like taffy. Clogging his throat as he holds his breath momentarily.

You see, Yoongi was prone to worrying, anxiety always laying under his skin like an itch that he could never get rid of, irritating but part of his life whether he liked it or not. And that night he’d laid awake, worried he hadn’t made a good first impression, scaring you away when he hadn’t even gotten the chance to learn your name.

And sure, he could have asked Jin, but that man had enough blackmail material already; he didn’t need to know about Yoongi’s budding interest in the pretty kindergarten teacher. If he hadn’t embarrassed himself enough then Seokjin surely would.

To Yoongi’s surprise you hadn’t seemed too offended by his reply, or lack thereof, as a week later you’d greeted him during lunch; even going as far to hold the door open for him as he languidly wandered into the cafeteria, in search of Seokjin.

This time Yoongi felt a little more prepared, muttering a short ‘thanks’, small smile stretching onto his lips as he points it in your direction. He doesn’t wait for your reply, legs already pulling him out of what could be another embarrassing encounter, a little disheartened that the day he finally decided to eat with the rest of the staff (secretly hoping to see you), your encounter had been so brief.

Yoongi’s easy smile however, remained throughout the course of lunch, heart fluttering like little butterfly wings locked in the cage of his chest; and if Seokjin noticed his friend’s flushed cheeks he chose not to say anything.

The caretaker thought he was sly with his little crush, never mentioning you to Jin, only stealing short glimpses of you from across the cafeteria, that short half an hour a day enough to recharge his motivation to continue this job. And he has the gall to be surprised when Seokjin finally decides to bring it up.

“Might want to hurry up, Jungkookie might beat you to it” Jin calls out, and if Yoongi hadn’t seen a few kids running around the area, he would have flipped off the elder. But Yoongi does nothing more than wave him off, and he may have been worried if he didn’t know Jungkook was already seeing someone.

That someone being Kim Taehyung, the high school art teacher, who occasionally sat at their table at lunch. Most of his time hauled up in the art rooms where students were welcome to work during the lunch hour.

Yoongi wasn’t one to stereotype but Kim Taehyung was the very definition of eccentric art teacher. Style a little unusual, paintings so abstract Yoongi felt like he was on acid while trying to decipher the meaning.

He had seen how Jungkook looked at Taehyung, the little galaxies that shone in his eyes when he looked at his love, where each star represented one thing that Jungkook adored about his boyfriend, his gentle gaze enough to show the absolute adoration they held for one another.

Yoongi had complained, telling them to get a room on more than one occasion when they’d decided to lick into each other’s mouths during afterschool dinners. But truly he was happy they had something so precious, a love like a warm hug, infinite trust between the two of them; something that Yoongi secretly yearned for.

More often than not Yoongi felt a little misunderstood. He never meant to come off as cold or disinterested, he liked the silent company of a person as much as he enjoyed his time alone, you didn’t have to always be talking; silent comfort of another person enough for him.

Yoongi didn’t want to come off as rude, he just didn’t know what to say sometimes, happier to prove his love with acts of service than empty words that even he doesn’t know the meaning of. He doesn’t want to come off as unapproachable, but when you’re tired from work and lacking the energy to act like a ray of sunshine, much like the physical education teacher, Hoseok, Yoongi could only wallow in his own self-pity some nights. Wondering why only a select few seemed to enjoy his company, or why so many romantic relationships have been washed down the drain.

As the first semester of school progressed, the weather had started to get colder, autumn slinking by before anyone could comprehend the unusually warm summer.

Kids starting to layer uniform, and teachers turning to the heaters to defrost their fingers as they arrive early, grass still dewy with air that nips at your skin like little needles.

Yoongi jolts up from his seat at the gentle knock of his office door, his feet flying off the desk from where he’d been resting them; worried that it was his boss coming for his usual weekly check-up.

However, Yoongi was pleasantly surprised to find you stood in his doorway; soft-looking sweater cocooning you in its warmth, nose tinted red from the frosty morning air, tips of your fingers barely peeking out from where you try to warm them up from the confines of your sleeves. And it takes all Yoongi’s will, not to tell you he had more ways than one he would love to heat you up (though he supposes he should take you out on a date before that).

Yoongi thinks you must have been sent from the sky, pretty, even in the dim morning sunlight, kissing your skin like Yoongi would if you would let him.

“Good morning” you smile, nose twitching at the strong scent of coffee that permeates the air of Yoongi’s office.

“Morning. Can I help you?” Yoongi asks, leg bouncing up and down anxiously. He has no time to curse himself for how blunt he must have come off, tone anything but inviting, before you’re opening your mouth to answer him.

“Yes actually. The heater in my classroom isn’t working”

Yoongi nods, pushing himself from his seat, ignoring the piping hot coffee he was moments away from drinking as he picks up his little toolbox that sat beside his desk.

“Lead the way” he motions out of the room, not daring to make eye-contact with you; worried he were to drown in the depths of your eyes, calling him in like a siren would with song.

He watches your back as you walk him to your classroom, fingers itching to hold your hands, help you warm them up as the stupid heater in your classroom couldn’t do its job properly.

Yoongi didn’t exactly know what he expected your classroom to look like, never working up the courage to peek inside and take a look into such a large part of your life.

The flurry of colours was expected, paintings from what he assumes to be your classes over the years hung on the wall, with paints and pens stacked on short shelving by each wall of the room.

Your desk sits at the front of the room, little trinkets lining the edges, papers covering the surface like a blanket. And Yoongi has to stop the smile from pulling at his face from how disordered you are; just like him. And he can somewhat appreciate the beauty in the mess of your classroom, it showed it was loved, enjoyed by more than just the small group of children that spent nearly every hour in here every day, loved by you who clearly spent time lining the walls with letters and drawings all addressed to you, carefully printed and cut letters of the alphabet climbing the walls like vines and fairy lights hung like tree snakes lounging on a branch.

“This one over here” you point to the heaters under the window, and Yoongi cringes at the cool air that caresses his cheeks as he stalks the length of your classroom. Nipping his cheeks like little jaws trying to pull apart his skin.

As he kneels down, pulling his glasses from the front pocket of his hoodie, he takes a closer look at the pipes connected to the main framing of the heater. Yoongi tries not to pay attention to you as you shuffle through the mountain of papers on your desk, he tries not to focus on the way you bite your lip; the little devil that rest on his shoulder whispering for him to just kiss you.

Yoongi distracts himself with your heater, fingers a little shakier than usual as you wander around the room, picking up pots of paints off the shelves, brushes stored in separate drawers and laying them all on the little tables, perfect for the little toddlers you taught. Chairs so small they must have been the first bear’s that goldilocks had thought were too uncomfortable to sit on, they sure looked it; no amount of colour enough to mask the hard plastic they were made of.

Yoongi frowns when he finds the problem with your heater, somehow a bolt had gotten loose; he can only assume one of the children had fiddled with it. Little fingers always having to play with something, another thing he hated about kids. If it’s not meant to be touched, then don’t touch it.

He pulls a spanner out of his toolbox, fingers skimming over a screwdriver. He looks over at shelving unit by the heater, screws glimmering in the slowly growing sunlight that climbs its way over the top of the neighbouring school building.

And that same little devil on his shoulder whispers something a little naughty, something Yoongi knows he shouldn’t do. And maybe Yoongi was a little bit of a hypocrite, after just saying kids shouldn’t touch everything, but the screws looked so shiny, so inviting, a little accident that means he may get an extra half hour with you.

He peers over at you, sat at your desk, typing something on your laptop. And decides that what’s the worst that could happen? He quickly tightens the loose bolt to your faulty heater, turning the knob on the side just in case before he scoots his way over to the shelf that had been holding the paints you now had on the table.

He licks his lips, sucking in a sharp breath before he unscrews a few nails. Silently praying the shelf can hold up until he leaves the room.

You stay none the wiser, typing away on some blank document from what Yoongi can make out. He tucks his glasses back into the front pocket of his hoodie, dusting off the imaginary dust that clung to the knees of his jeans before he’s clearing his throat to catch your attention. You startle, eyes wide when they meet Yoongi’s, who thinks you look a little like a puppy caught doing something they were told not to.

He stifles his laugh, coving it with a cough, “Your heater should be working, I turned it up a little so the room should heat up quicker” he explains, motioning towards the offending object. Your shelves staring at him, and Yoongi worries you can see the guilt swimming in his eyes.

You nod, pushing yourself from your seat, you bow a little in thanks, “You’re the best” you grin, and Yoongi can feel his heartrate pick up; cheeks dusted in rosy red.

You were so pretty.

+ + +

Yoongi waits all day, ears perking up when footsteps echo down his end of the hall throughout the rest of work. Begrudgingly helping a few other teachers that seemed to have had heating problems in their classrooms too; a common theme it seems.

Or, the occasional pitter patter of kids running down the hallway like a heard of wild animals during breaktimes, or teens sneaking off to the bathrooms where they liked to make out, or a few other things if their dishevelled uniform meant anything as Yoongi wandered around for his afternoon walk.

He tries to spot you at lunch, his mood only souring when you never walk into the cafeteria, your melodic laughter not gracing the usual grating sound of stressed teaching staff, that all seemed to have a passion for complaining about their jobs.

Jin had tried to cheer him up, offering to share his homemade lunch just to get even a hint of a smile out of Yoongi, and usually the caretaker would love to bless his tastebuds with actual decent food; but it seemed nothing, but your pretty smile would suffice to sate his grumpy mood.

The minutes before the home-time bell slowly creep up on Yoongi, and on most days he would be ecstatic that he could finally escape this hellhole. He never understood why teachers would willingly return to the place that is designed to fuck over students; especially when the pay isn’t all that great. And most of them seemed to despise their jobs anyways.

Even after the bell rings, startling Yoongi from his own little reverie, he remains sat at his desk; a little quiver of hope still left inside of him that you would be stood in the doorway of his office once more.

He thinks it must be a daydream when you show up, unable to properly comprehend that you were once again stood before him. That would be the second time in one day.

He isn’t at all surprised when you give him a sheepish smile, “Do you have any spare screws? It seems my shelving has broken”

And a small flame of guilt licks at Yoongi’s heart and mind, but the pretty smile that stretches onto your lips when Yoongi only lets out a little laugh, picking up his little toolbox, is enough to expel any of his worries.

He once again gets to stare at your back as you walk back towards your classroom, pretty sweater still veiling your body; and Yoongi licks his lips at what you could be hiding underneath the layers you wear.

A blink of an image flashing behind his eyes of you sprawled across the sheets of his bed, his head tucked in-between your thighs. He knew he’d get addicted to your taste, surely with such a sweet voice, all of you must be just the same. Your arousal thick like nectar on his tongue as he pushes you over the edge to your own pleasure.

“Mr. Min?” you wave a hand in-front of his face.

Yoongi blinks, “Sorry?” he coughs, heat creeping up his neck, pinching the tips of his ears.

You point towards the mess of your bookshelf, paint pots and art supplies scattered across the floor from where the shelf had caved in on itself. A mound of mess that you would now have to tackle once Yoongi acts as your saviour; a dark knight that had secretly put you in this messy situation.

“I was putting the paint pots away when it sorta of just… collapsed”

Yoongi lets out a grunt of understanding, that same guilt from earlier tickling up his spine as he looks over the huge mess you’ll have to clear up once he fixes your shelving. He shouldn’t have taken those few screws that morning and should have just worked up the courage to ask you out instead of making your day harder. But he supposes what is done is done and now he must fix his selfish doings.

You remain sat at your desk, finger scrolling through your phone as Yoongi rummages through his little box of screws.

His fingers dip into the pocket of his jeans, shiny steel nails pricking the tips of his fingers.

“Do you need any help?” You startle the caretaker, worried smile on your face as Yoongi picks up a few of the fallen shelves.

“No, it’s alright” he waves you off.

“Would you like something to drink then?” you ask.

“Black coffee is fine, thanks” he shoots you a quick smile, gums on show.

Yoongi doesn’t notice the bristly heat that burns the soft skin of your cheeks as you wander towards a cabinet in the back of your classroom. Rummaging for the granulated coffee that a few of your co-workers stored by your kettle. Not your first beverage of choice but a few of your friends took advantage of your little drink station.

As the kettle boils your water, Yoongi can see you intently watching him from the corner of his eye; and he feels his palms get clammy from your attention set so closely on him. He would have compared your eyes to those of a hawk if you hadn’t been so utterly soft; tempting Yoongi to wrap you up in his pocket and dote on you.

“How did you get so good at this?” you wonder aloud, awe evident on your face as Yoongi easily slides a shelf back into place.

Yoongi pauses, “Honestly I’m not sure. Guess I’m just good with my hands”

Your tongue peeks out to wet your lips at that; body jumping when the little click of the kettle finishing boiling. You whip back around to finish Yoongi’s drink, said man finding it hard to stop a little smirk from tugging at his lips at your flushed cheeks, pretty even painted in red.

You place a rounded pink mug on the windowsill by where Yoongi is working, and he mutters a quick thanks before he’s focusing back on holding the panel of wood back into the right place, silver nail balanced between his lips.

“I never got your name” Yoongi says when you take a seat at one of the student’s tables, warm mug of hot chocolate heating your cold hands up.

“Y/n” you tell him, “And you are?” you ask, only knowing of him by his surname.

“Yoongi” he tells you, pushing himself up with the help of your now sturdy shelf.

You push yourself up from the desk, placing your cup of drink down before you start picking up the scattered art supplies. Yoongi follows, tucking his screwdriver into the back pocket of his jeans as he picks up the paint pots that brought him back into your room. The vibrant colours glaring at him; a reminder of his sins.

“You don’t have to, Yoongi” you tell him, but said handyman ignores you; brain replaying how nice his name sounded when it came from your lips, dipped in sweet honey, addictive in the way that makes Yoongi want to beg you to say it one more time. Something about your voice enchanting, pulling him closer like a snake charmer does a snake with its pipe.

Instead, he brushes you off, “I’ve stayed this late, what more is a few minutes?”

Your nose scrunches at that, “Sorry about that”

+ + +

“Have you asked for her number yet?” Seokjin asks.

“What?” Yoongi feels a sense of déjà vu as he sits in the corner of the cafeteria, you sat at another table with a few other teachers. Though today you seem more focused on your lunch than any of the baseless chatter the others on your table seem to be immersed in.

“You stayed after school with her, had dinner together after that and you still haven’t asked for her number?” Jin gawks.

“No?”

“Min Yoongi” Jungkook shakes his head, “Ask the poor woman on a date or something”

“What if she was just being polite?” he asks the youngest, chewing at the skin of his bottom lip.

“She must be interested; she went out for dinner with you after you’d fucked up her shelves”

Yoongi’s head snaps in your direction, worried you'd somehow heard Jungkook, “She doesn’t know that, keep it down”

Jungkook snickers, “Seriously, ask her out. Otherwise, someone else might” he nods in the direction of your table, a stupidly handsome male laying his hands on your shoulders. Green jealousy bubbling inside of Yoongi as he just watches.

You turn to look up at him with a smile, grateful as he places a bag on the table in-front of you.

Yoongi narrows his eyes, “Who the fuck is he?” he tuts.

“Kim Namjoon, works in the high school”

“Cute dimples” Taehyung pulls out a spare chair beside Jungkook, leaning over to lay a wet kiss on his boyfriend’s cheek.

Yoongi grunts dramatically pushing himself from his seat. His hands slam onto the table, “You guys are going out tonight, right?” he turns towards Jin who only nods, confusion evident on his face.

Yoongi storms over towards the table you’re sat at, and as he draws closer, he can only wonder where this burst of confidence came from; ignition slowly burning to nothing but warm embers as he pushes one foot in-front of the other. But when he makes eye contact with slimy looking Namjoon, a cursed smile being shone his way Yoongi’s anxiety seems to be the least of his worries.

“Y/n” he calls you, endeared by your wide eyes that flit to meet his own, happiness enveloping your eyes as you look up at him.

“Yes?” you stand when Yoongi makes it to your side, still having to stare up at him from beneath the veil of your eyelashes, ones that Yoongi finds very pretty.

“We’re going out for dinner tonight” he throws a thumb over his shoulder towards his table of friends, Taehyung waves, boxy smile an attempt to placate your worries, “And I was wondering if you wanted to… wanted to come with us?”

Yoongi knows you must be able to see the unease that swims in his eyes, and he worries that maybe he looks a little desperate, stalking towards your table unannounced; but with your small group of co-workers all staring at him like he’d grown a second head, he’s seconds away from scuttling out the cafeteria.

“That would be lovely, Yoongi” you smile.

“I’ll meet you at the gate after school?” he asks, eyes brightening in hope. You nod and Yoongi has to bite his lip to stop the huge smile that threatens to pull at his cheeks.

+ + +

“I swear he isn’t always like this” Yoongi shakes his head, turning his attention to look at you.

“I think it’s amusing” you turn towards your new friend, wincing when Seokjin, who had previously been dancing on a chair, falls onto a table. Both your eyes snap towards the eldest of the group, trying to gauge if he was okay or needed immediate medical attention.

Yoongi supposes the alcohol coursing through Seokjin’s veins was enough to help him stagger to his feet like he hadn’t just body slammed into a table, and Jungkook has to wave off a worried bar tender who had already pulled his phone from his pocket, moments away from calling for an ambulance.

Taehyung scans Jin’s body, trying to figure out if he had a concussion or not. And Jungkook tries to ask his hyung if he remembers who he is.

“This isn’t what I imagined dinner to be” you turn back to Yoongi who elegantly brings his glass of whisky to his lips, somehow looking like royalty in such a grimy bar, tucked away in an alleyway.

He hums, letting his taste buds soak in the refined flavour of the liquor before he answers you, “Me neither. Usually, we go to that shitty Italian place down the street”

“I like it there!” you exasperate, “Their dessert is really good”

“I don’t like dessert”

“What?” you breathe, “You devil, how could you not like dessert?”

Yoongi snorts, a little unattractive on his part but he couldn’t help himself, “Why stuff yourself more when you’ve just had a meal?” (Maybe you liked to be stuffed, but you thought it was a bit too soon for that conversation)

“Because you always have a second stomach for dessert” you tell him instead, “Honestly I got that vibe from you”

“What vibe?”

“Dessert hating vibes, I knew the moment you told me you liked black coffee, with no milk, no sugar that you were a dessert hater” you explain, dramatic shake to your head.

“I’m not a dessert hater, doll. I just have priorities”

“Really bad ones. I refuse to accept any dessert slander”

Yoongi opens his mouth, eyes widening a little in shock when you place a finger over his lips, “Uh uh” you shake your head.

Yoongi laughs at that, tongue poking out from between his lips to lick your finger. You recoil, nose scrunching at Yoongi who only laughs. (He had always preferred his own fingers in other people’s mouths, never really enjoying them in his own).

“Okay, lovers, we’re going home” Jungkook pushes between yours and Yoongi’s seats, “Jin’s about to pass out and I’m moments away from leaving him on the streets”

Both you and Yoongi turn to look over at Taehyung who holds up a very wobbly Seokjin, and you nod in understanding. But Yoongi feels his heart sink at the thought of having to go home already, he had started to enjoy your company, slowly peeling back each layer of your very being.

“I’ll walk you home” Yoongi places a hand on your shoulder when the five of you make it out of the bar. You nod, giving Jungkook a quick hug before he helps Taehyung lug their friend home.

You and Yoongi walk in silence, nothing uncomfortable; just the two of you basking in the company of one another.

Yoongi startles a little when you take a sudden hold of his wrist, “Yoongi, let’s go there” you pull him towards the familiar, drab Italian restaurant that he’s spent way too many weekends drinking in.

The lights at the front blink, bare wires hanging on for dear life to keep the neon lights hung about the windows of the restaurant. The fluorescent light momentarily blind the both of you as you wander inside.

Yoongi makes no fuss as you pull him into a booth by the window, encouraging you even, by handing you a menu. You flip it open, “My treat” you say, ignoring Yoongi as he opens his mouth to argue.

“You can treat me, next time”

Next time.

You wanted to see Yoongi again. Maybe it was the alcohol coursing through him, making him that little more delusional that you could feel the same about him as he does you.

“Fine” he drawls, motioning for a waiter to come to the table when you drop the menu with a little smile.

“Did you really have to order only dessert?”

“I got you black coffee as well” you argue, “if you don’t like them, then I’ll eat it”

Yoongi tuts, watching as the waiter brings over your tray of treats. More sugar than the mad hatter had at his tea party balanced on one rusting metal tray.

You wiggle happily in your seat, and Yoongi turns his head to look out the window, coving the blush that coats the skin of his cheeks in dusty red; and Yoongi wonders if this is what falling in love feels like, a new addiction worming its way into his heart. And Yoongi worries he won’t be able to stop himself, fingers itching to feel this again even if it’s only one more time.

“I got you tiramisu, because it tastes like coffee” you push the small plate towards him, eyes wide with wonder as Yoongi take a fork from one of the napkins, everything he does fascinating you as he holds himself with the grace and dignity a lot of people aspire for.

He awkwardly takes a forkful of cake, worried you were scrutinizing him for not eating this right. What if he hated it? And you got offended? What if you were turned off because he didn’t like the same foods as you? Is it a red flag to not like sweet things? God, Yoongi would shovel this cake into his mouth if it meant you’d give him a smile.

Yoongi thinks you must be able to read his mind, “You don’t have to like it” you remind him, picking up your own fork as you pull a plate towards your body, excitement of a child in your eyes.

+ + +

“What are you doing for Christmas?” you ask, turning towards Yoongi who dips his paintbrush into the can.

“Probably spend it with my dog” he shrugs, rubbing his gloved hands across his sweats, hoping to warm them up a little.

“You have a dog?” you gape, “Why didn’t you tell me?” you sulk.

Yoongi had told you he’d noticed the paint on your heaters chipping, a potential fire hazard (or so he claims), and that he would repaint them for you with heat safe paint. You’d nodded, offering to help him during the weekend, He’d shrugged, telling you it was your choice, that the room would be cold as you couldn’t paint on scorching hot metal, but you’d only giggled, telling him to pass his phone so you could add his number, and that you’d see him tomorrow. And Yoongi had felt dizzy when you’d brushed him off, determined to meet him that weekend and help.

Now he finds himself with you, both bundled up in coats, and woolly gloves to keep the both of you warm as you paint the morning away. The morning birds haven finished their songs for the day, probably ready to eat as lunch neared, afternoon sun squeezing minimal heat into the classroom through the windows.

“Do you have any plans?” he asks, foot tapping anxiously on the floor.

You shake your head, “I usually visit my parents, but they said they’re sick of white Christmases. So, my dad whisked them off to some tropical island until the end of February when it gets a little warmer”

“You didn’t want to go?”

“It’s not that, I just have a job, and I wouldn’t be able to stay all that long with work chasing me during the holidays”

Yoongi hums, “Want to spend it together?”

Your eyes widen, turning towards Yoongi who continues to paint, acting as if he hadn’t just offered to spend Christmas with you.

“Huh?” you breathe, “Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude”

“On what? Me and my dog? Jin Hyung usually stops by, but I think he secretly has a girlfriend because for the last two years he drops off some cookies and then rushes out the door, without his obligatory kisses”

“What about Jungkook and Taehyung?”

“They spend the holidays together, probably fucking. They can’t keep their hands to themselves” you giggle at that.

“They’re cute” you tell him, happy smile pulling onto your face as you recall the ‘dinner’ you’d had together a few weeks ago. And how much Jungkook and Taehyung seemed to be drawn to one another; you think they must the definition of love. Just pure, unadulterated love between the two of them. Two little lovebirds who are mates for the rest of their lives, always drawn to one another.

Jin had showed up to your classroom with a box of chocolates to apologize on the following Monday, babbling how unprofessional the whole encounter was. You’d waved him off, inviting him for coffee or tea during break times if he ever needed a breather from the swarm of students that always seem to gather outside his office door. All hoping to spend a little more time with the good-looking language teacher, innocent crushes pushing them to work hard in class.

He’d thanked you. Apologizing once more before he’d scuttled away with a sheepish smile plastered on his face. Late for a meeting he had with the head of department, and he had already missed the meeting the month prior.

“They’re cute when they’re not sucking each other’s tongues” Yoongi grunts, nudging the sleeve of your jacket so it wouldn’t fall into the pan of paint, worried it wouldn’t wash out from your sleeves.

“Let them be in love” you whine, wiggling a little in place, “Could you imagine loving someone like they do?”

Yoongi shakes his head, “Never been in love”

“Really?”

“I mean I dated in high school but nothing close to love” Yoongi turns towards you, “What about you?”

Your cheeks flush, “I’ve never uhh—I’ve never dated. Like at all”

Yoongi blinks, “Not even that smarmy dick?”

“Who?”

“Kim Namjoon or whatever his name is?”

Your tongue wets your lips, and then your eyes widen, “God no” you let out a long breath, “He asked me out last year and I said no. Why on earth would a high school literature teacher ask me out?”

“Because you’re pretty?” Yoongi replies, avoiding eye contact by mixing the paint a little.

“That’s shallow of him” you scoff, “He’s a narcissist anyways, I would never be as good looking as he believes himself to be” you tell Yoongi, and the caretaker wants to bash his head against the table behind him with how oblivious you are.

“That’s shitty” Yoongi agrees, though he feels his heart constrict. Didn’t you know how perfect you are?

“You know he told me I should have studied for a more sophisticated profession, and asked why I wanted to work with kids below the age of 15” you frown, “I thought that was a little mean, so I told him to go fuck himself”

Yoongi laughs at that, “I always see him near your table at lunch”

You hum, nodding—“He’s been trying to win me over with cakes and cookies, I only smile so I get free stuff out of him”

“So, you’re leading him on?”

You drop your brush into the paint pan, “Is that what I’m doing? That’s really shitty” you look at Yoongi with guilty eyes.

“I guess if he’s a bad man then it’s a little more forgivable” he gently places his paintbrush beside your own, “But he doesn’t deserve you if he’s an asshole”

You nod at that, small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

+ + +

“Please Yoongi” you tug on the sleeve of his jacket, trying to veer him towards the ice rink.

He only grunts, “I don’t skate”

“But it’s Christmas” your shoulders fall, and Yoongi feels as though he just kicked a puppy with your sad pout.

“Fine” he takes your hand, pulling you towards the old woman at the rental booth.

Yoongi can’t help the laugh that bubbles up his throat, having just watched you fall onto your bottom only minutes after getting onto the rink.

“Hey!” you point an accusing finger at him, “It’s not funny”

“Just a little, darling” he tries hard to stifle his laugh, but fails miserably when you try to push yourself to stand; stood more like a new-born doe who hadn’t grasp the concept of walking yet.

Yoongi misses the devious smile on your face when he bends down to help you stand, your cheeks warming at the pretty smile the caretaker had, warm like a spring afternoon.

“When you offered for us to go skating, I thought you’d be good at it”

You cross your arms over your chest, instantly regretting the sudden action as you wobble. You let out something akin to a squeak when Yoongi takes a hold of your arms, helping stabilise you as your stomach tenses.

“My little deer” he laughs, hands skimming down the length of your arms to hold your hands.

You feel heat creep up your neck, burning the tips of your ears; feeling some relief knowing that your nose and ears were already red from the cold, so you only bite your lip, trying not to let your shuddering breath become known to Yoongi.

He, however, sees your eyes glaze over, something he hadn’t seen from you yet. And it only feeds into his little fantasy of you sprawled out across the sheets of his bed, his name clinging to your tongue, dripping like sweet honey as you beg for more. More of what? He has yet to decide. He’s imagined eating you out, sure that you’d recoil, shy, when he tries to go down on you. He wonders what you’d look like, bouncing prettily on his cock, begging for him to help you, legs shaking as he pounds into you, if your moans would be as soft as your voice, if you’d try to cover your mouth with your hands.

Yoongi coughs, bringing his attention back to you who wobbles, another attempt to skate towards him on your own. This time, Yoongi is ready when you stagger forwards, holding onto your waist as you tumble into his chest.

“Sorry” you whisper, “I don’t think I’m very good at this”

Yoongi laughs, “Nothing a little practice can’t fix”

+ + +

“Merry Christmas Yoongi” you beam, handing him the neatly wrapped gift, little cats printed on the paper.

“Merry Christmas” he takes you hand, pulling you into his warm apartment, heat enveloping you, cleansing you from the toe biting cold of the outside world.

You startle at the wet nose that prods your bare fingers, gaze flitting towards the floor where the fluffy little dog sniffs at your clothes, a cute puff of brown.

“That’s Holly” he tells you, placing your gift underneath the small tree into the corner of the living room beside the one he had bought you.

You crouch down, scratching Holly under the chin, giggling as the excited dog circles your legs.

You wander into the living room, not so subtly peeking at Yoongi’s home. You liked it; it was cosy, and ever so Yoongi. You take a seat on one of the couches, Yoongi following suit once he’d turned the tree lights on, green like vibrant dragonflies dancing from branch to branch.

“I hope you’re okay with takeaway, I looked up how to cook Christmas dinner online, and it’s a little too advanced for me”

You smile, “Don’t tell my mother, but I’ve never been a fan of Christmas dinner”

“Perfect”

“You make music?” you gawk, “That’s so cool”

“It’s a nice side hobby I suppose” he shrugs, not delving into how deep his love for music really is; he knew that if he started, he wouldn’t know when to stop. A little too passionate about his producing than he would like to let on, the last thing he needed was for you to leave when he was enjoying your company.

“You’ll have to show me one day” you tell him, nudging his shoulder as you sit beside one another. Knees pressed snug, body heat warming one another up.

Yoongi picks up another slice of beef, placing it on your plate, “maybe” he shrugs.

“You’re very secretive” you point out.

“Private”

You hum at that, “That is a good trait. More for me to uncover”

“Yeah?” he asks, smile tugging at his lips, “What are you trying to uncover”

Yoongi doesn’t miss the as your eyes flit down his body, straying a little at the waist band of his sweats before travelling back to his lips.

“Everything” you tell him honestly, and he can see the naked emotions that swim behind your eyes; raw need.

“I suppose you should get started then” he whispers, eyes flicking between both of your own.

“Right now?”

Yoongi nods, turning his body to face you; his hand coming to cup your cheek. You close your eyes, low moan reverberating up your throat as Yoongi presses his lips gently against your own. And as cliché as it sounds, Yoongi thinks he hears fireworks somewhere in the distance, lips tingling with want as he feels the warmth of you pressed along the length of his body.

Yoongi drinks in every little sound you make, spurring him to deepen kiss, his tongue flicking to part your own. As you both pull away, Yoongi leans in for a quick peck to your lips before he falls back into his seat.

“I guess I also have a lot to uncover, huh?” he whispers, fingers tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “I really like you Y/n” he admits, hands clammy as he gauges your reaction.

“I really like you too” you tell him, and Yoongi smiles at the red hue that coats your cheeks; he can only imagine his match your own.

+ + +

“We should totally go on a double date” Taehyung grins, arm wrapped around Jungkook’s shoulder.

“We’re not dating though” Yoongi grunts, leaning back in his seat. His gaze flits over towards your table of co-workers, you more focused on something on your phone than what they were gossiping about.

“You went on a date, spent Christmas and New Year together, kissed, confessed and you’re not dating?” Jin gawks, astonished by what he was hearing.

Yoongi had asked after your little Christmas escapade, if you wanted to spend New Year together as well. He took you out for lunch, and then the two of you milled around a little market on the outskirts of the city. He’d met a few of your students, their happy smiles when they spotted you, warming Yoongi’s heart. And God forbid he didn’t hate children as much as he used to. (They could be cute sometimes, but only when it comes to you.) As well as conversing with a few parents, more than a few commenting on how cute you and Yoongi were together.

Nothing much more than kissing had happened, and you’d found the excuse for a few more kisses when you’d spotted little brushes of mistletoe hanging from the market huts, left over from the Christmas market that plagued the streets only weeks prior. And who was Yoongi to deny tradition?

The two of you had sat on a hill on New Year’s Day, Yoongi with his coffee, and you with piping hot, hot chocolate, both a little hung over from your little festivities the night prior (with a kiss when the clock hands struck midnight), and the both of you talked about the future. Your individual futures, and the future you want to have together.

You’d both agreed to take it slow, neither of you needed to rush into this relationship. You both knew you liked each other, that much had been established, and there was a mutual understanding that you had all the time in the world to learn more about each other before defining your relationship. You both understood what you had was exclusive, but neither of you felt labels were necessary. The unnecessary shadow that would loom over your shoulders, creeping up on you until your relationship evidently crumbles under the pressure of societal labels and standards of what a ‘good’ relationship is.

“So what?” Yoongi turns towards Jin, “We’re taking it slow”

“Slow my ass, you both act like you’ve been in a long-term relationship”

“Do not” Yoongi argues, feeling stupid that his reply had come off so juvenile.

“Yeah?” Seokjin challenges, and Yoongi knows he shouldn’t take the bait.

But he does, “Yeah”

“Whose lunchbox is that then?” he points at the prettily wrapped lunch that sat before you on the table. New shiny bento box that Yoongi had ordered online especially for you, with enough layers to make sure you would eat a nutritional lunch. With how many sweets you ate, Yoongi worried you spoiled yourself, so he took on the role of your chef; making sure you were eating healthier.

Yoongi coughs, “Mine. What are you gonna do about it?”

“Tease you” Jin laughs, pushing himself from his seat when Yoongi shoots him a hard glare. Waving at the small group before he makes his descent back to his classroom, a small group of students having filled in what was meant to be an easy lunch.

“I think you’re doing great, Hyung” Jungkook soothes, smiling over at Taehyung who nudges his side.

“Kookie is right, you don’t have to rush into these things. As long as the two of you are happy, that’s all that counts” Taehyung nods.

“Plus, Jin Hyung is definitely projecting, he’s hiding someone. I just know it” Jungkook nods, head falling onto his boyfriend’s shoulder.

“Yoongi!” you call as you skip towards his lunch table, perking up at your voice.

“Yes?” he pulls out what was once Jin’s chair, pulling you to sit beside him.

“What do you think about these for Holly?” you shove your phone into his face, “I really like the blue one” you mutter.

“They’re lovely, doll” he smiles, taking your phone so the bright screen wasn’t blaring in his eyes, the images more of a blur of colours, messily mixed like paints on a pallet.

“Personally, my favourite is the purple one” you scroll down when Yoongi places the device on the table. He looks down at the little sweater you have on a website that specialises in dog clothes.

“It’s cute” Yoongi agrees.

“But Yoongs, Holly would look good in like red or something” you sigh dramatically, prominent frown pulled at your pretty lips, begging Yoongi to kiss it away.

Yoongi scrolls up, eyeing the other dog clothes they had on the website, “Why not get both? One for you and one for Holly” he shrugs, “There’s still a few weeks left of winter”

You nod, small smile now tugging at your lips and Yoongi feels somewhat accomplished. He ignores the intruding stares of his two friends sat across the table, kicking Taehyung’s shin when he opens his mouth to surely make a comment on Yoongi’s somewhat soft behaviour. Emotions on display for everyone to see.

“Okay!” you push yourself to stand, “I’m going to find my credit card” you announce and Yoongi grunts at that.

“I’ll pay” he also stands, but you push him back into his seat, shaking your head.

“No, you won’t. It’s my gift”

“Doll” Yoongi stares up at you, and he thinks he sees a crack in your resolve. He smiles when you cover his eyes with your hand.

“Don’t look at me like that” you whine, skin prickling with goosebumps when Yoongi skims his fingers down your arm, blindly seeking out your touch.

“Like what?” he asks, teasing lilt to his tone.

“Like you can tell me what to do”

“Is that so?”

You pull your hands from his eyes, frowning down at the caretaker, “I’m leaving” you tell him.

“I’ll take you out for dinner then” Yoongi calls when you turn away from the table.

“Okay!” you call over your shoulder, “text me later” you wave at him.

Yoongi turns towards Jungkook and Taehyung who have two annoying smiles plastered on their faces.

“Neither of you say a word” he points between them, “Not one”

+ + +

“Y/n!”

You startle, Yoongi using his hand to cushion your elbow before you could whack it on the edge of the table.

Both you and Yoongi turn towards where the honeyed voice came from, and Yoongi let’s out a low grunt when Namjoon saunters towards the table you’re sat at.

Yoongi had asked you out on a little coffee date, nothing too fancy, something to help the two of you wind down from another hectic week of work.

Yoongi had bought you a cake, getting the one that had little cat ears cut from sugar paper, and got himself a black coffee. You got sweet tea, and then you told him everything you’d been up to, talking of parents that had given you gifts at the start of the semester, and that you’d have to give him one of the funnier mugs for his coffee in the morning.

Everything was serene, perfect even. And Yoongi couldn’t have asked for anything more. His favourite girl by his side, with a perfect cup of coffee. Until Kim Namjoon decided to ruin his good mood.

“Namjoon” you greet, empty smile being thrown at the high school teacher.

“Fancy seeing you here” he laughs, inviting himself to your table. Taking a seat opposite Yoongi. Said man places his hand on your thigh gently, silent reassurance that he is there for you just in case this unplanned meeting goes south. And as much as you wanted to tell him to go away, you knew you would see him around work and the last thing you needed was an awkward encounter in the halls, you could feel your skin crawl at the thought of it.

“Yes, funny coincidence” you squeeze out, turning to look at Yoongi who gives you a curt nod.

“And who’s this?” Namjoon motions towards Yoongi, acting as though he was the one who had just barged into his café date. Eyes narrowing in slight distaste.

“Her boyfriend” Yoongi tells him, smug smile unmissable when Namjoon’s smile drops.

He turns to look at you, as if asking for confirmation. You nod, only deepening Namjoon’s frown. Yoongi’s fingers tighten on your thigh, and you feel a dull throb between your legs when he does, squirming a little in place, and if Yoongi notices, he doesn’t make it apparent.

“I didn’t know you two were—” he wags a finger in your general direction, “a thing” he finishes, the words leaving a bad taste on his tongue.

“Not everyone drones on about their relationships, Namjoon” you point out, finding it hard to fight off the smug smile that threatened to show. You see, Namjoon had a track record of bragging about his escapades, either it be a quick fling with a woman who worshiped the ground he walked on (his words, not yours), or short-term relationships where he would boast about every detail of his sex life. Something you had no interest in.

“If you’ll excuse us, I was enjoying my date” you motion to Yoongi beside you, a bored expression taking over his features.

“You heard her” he adds, motioning for Namjoon to leave. Translation: Fuck off.

Yoongi thinks he sees the tips of Namjoon’s ears flush red, slithering its way down his cheeks and neck, and Yoongi feels his heart swell when you lean against his shoulder; Namjoon glaring at the two of you as he stands up.

“Boyfriend, huh?” you ask when Namjoon is out of your general vicinity.

Yoongi turns to look out the window, his silent wish of you not bringing that up clearly not being heard by some higher power.

“Only if that’s okay with you” he mutters.

“Is this you asking me out?” you laugh, head falling backwards, and Yoongi turns, wanting to catch your smile.

“Y/n?” he calls, hand coming to hold your cheek as you tilt your head back down to look at him.

You hum.

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

+ + +

“Okay!” Seokjin claps his hands, “News for this week. Yoongi first”

And all three pairs of eyes land on the caretaker. Now that the weather had started to warm up a little, the sun no longer shying away behind fluffy, cotton candy clouds, lunch times were spent behind the school. Away from students, and the beady eyes of other staff that had a habit of eavesdropping on everyone’s conversations. And then before you knew it, the whole faculty knew about your secrets.

Yoongi places a hand on his chin in thought, “I helped Y/n build a new desk for her classroom and put up some new blinds that she bought. Oh...” he drawls, “And she’s now my girlfriend”

Seokjin’s jaw drops, and Yoongi wants to make a snide comment, being cut out by a loud gasp from his hyung. Jungkook and Taehyung laugh from their spot opposite Yoongi, nodding their congratulations as Jin pinches the bridge of his nose.

“And you didn’t think to text me?” he mutters, mock offense lacing his tone.

“What about your partner Hyung?” Jungkook prods, not missing the wide eyes of the eldest.

“How did you know about that?” he whispers, leaning across the table.

“You were kind of obvious” Taehyung placates, wrapping his arm around his boyfriend’s shoulder.

“So? Who are they?” Yoongi prods, having waited years for his friend to finally spill the beans on this secret relationship he’d been trying to hide (and clearly failed).

“I met her in the town over, she already has a kid, but the father left. We’ve been taking it slow, but I really do like her” he admits, and Taehyung can’t help the mushy smile that takes over his features.

“On the topic of children…” Jungkook trails off, giving a look to his boyfriend, who only nods in encouragement. “We’re planning to adopt”

Yoongi’s eyes widen a little in surprise, it’s not as if the two hadn’t fiddled with the idea of adopting; he just never expected it to be so soon.

“Oh my god” Seokjin cried, “I’m going to be an uncle”

“That’s a really big decision” Yoongi nods, a small smile toying at the edge of his lips.

“It is” Taehyung agrees, “But we both have stable jobs, and a home. Neither of us plan to go anywhere anytime soon”

“What about the wedding?” Jin asks.

“A wedding can happen any time. We both know that we want to spend the rest of our lives together, so there’s no rush really” Jungkook shrugs.

“What about you Hyung? When are you getting married” Taehyung points his attention towards the caretaker.

“He only just asked me to be his girlfriend” your arms wrap around Yoongi’s neck, leaning down to press a featherlight kiss on his cheek.

Yoongi scoots over to make room for you on the bench.

“Not with your friends?” he asks, hand coming to rest on your thigh as you pull your own lunch (courtesy of Yoongi), placing it onto the table.

“Nope” you shake your head, handing him a neatly cut triangular sandwich, “Namjoon came over, so I lost my appetite” you tell him, and he hums in understanding. Muttering a short ‘bastard’ under his breath.

+ + +

Perfect didn’t seem like the right word to describe your relationship with Min Yoongi. It was beyond anything you could have ever asked for. Something that not many people had during their first relationships; trial and error finally pulling you down the path of your soulmate. However, you seemed to hit the jackpot, first try.

Before you knew it a year had flown by, memories floating by like the wind would, caressing your cheek in the morning on the way to school. Days merging into weeks and weeks into months. And even with a mush of weeks and days, Yoongi always made you feel the most special, like you were the only one he had eyes for.

Yoongi had never been the most vocal man, but you’d learnt that he loved you all as much. He would pack your lunches in cute little boxes, and on Friday’s he would slip a little note into your bag with plans for the weekend or a shopping list so you could both wander around the supermarket as soon as the home time bell rigs. He would come to your classroom after school with cold drinks in the summer and overly sweet hot chocolate in the winter.

Although he would never admit it, he really did like the tiramisu from that shitty Italian restaurant at the end of street, and he thought it was ridiculous how many dates the both of you had spent in there. He’d voiced out a concern one evening, you sprawled across his bed like a dream, with your favourite candle lit, and Holly filling the gap between your bodies; he worried he wasn’t doing enough. You had told him you really didn’t care, as long as you were together, even lounging in bed for the day made you happy. And as if to prove a point, you and Yoongi had spent the whole day in bed together, binging your favourite shows (amongst other things).

You walked around fair grounds together, shared secrets between kisses, and it was the small things that he would do for you, that reminded you that Min Yoongi really did love you. Like washing your face of an evening or picking up snacks from the convenience store because he knew you’d ran out.

You remember the evening he opened up about his music, not just a silly little hobby like he had initially told you. He told you about how cathartic it was for him to produce. He showed you notebook upon notebook of lyrics that he had written from his teens through to his adult years; a little window into the man you were dating.

You know he likes dogs more than cats; you know he adores Holly. You know he hates sweet coffee, the bitter taste on his tongue somewhat of a comfort for him. You know he liked to stay home rather than melt within a crowd of rowdy people. And if the two of you ever found yourself trapped with too many sounds and too many bodies, Yoongi would place his hand on the back of your neck, reassurance that he was still there, helping ground you from all the overflowing number of stimuli that were trying to scratch at your brain.

Min Yoongi liked to cook, liked to experiment in the kitchen and he loved it even more when he could cook for you. He liked watching your face light up when you liked something, he liked the way your nose would scrunch up in that cute way when a taste was unfamiliar or too bitter.

Yoongi liked the curtains in your apartment, thin in a way the sun would caress your skin as it woke before you. As he would lay there, fingers trailing over the naked skin of your back, loving the way you’d slowly start to become conscious of the world around you. And the smile that would stretch onto your face, unconditional love mingled with tired eyes as you woke up to the sight of sleep roughed Yoongi first thing in the morning.

Yoongi liked the winter more than he did the summer. Maybe it was because that is when he first worked up the courage to talk to you.

Yoongi liked wearing the colour black, something so simple but looked so good on him. He, however, adored when you’d wear colourful shirts, dresses that complimented the tone of your skin, and he thinks if he were to turn this into a metaphor, you were the one who finally brought colour into his monotone life. An endless cycle of loneliness that he hadn’t realised he was drowning in before he had met you.

Yoongi liked that when you had moved into his home, small parts of you leaked into his, your, living space. Canvases of unfinished paintings, and photos from your childhood. His closet was no longer half empty, overflowing with a concoction of both your clothes. Odd pieces of furniture that you hadn’t wanted to let go of now filling the gaps of his once arguably scarce apartment.

Min Yoongi loved you.

He loved everything about you.

He loved how kind you were, patient in a way that only a kindergarten teacher could be. He liked that with others you always seemed a little reserved, shy in your actions, but with him you had no qualms about what you said or how you acted. Min Yoongi loved you because you always thought of him as much as he thought of you. He would feel his heart flutter when you would leave coffee on the desk in his office or help him pick out what shirt to wear to work.

Min Yoongi loved that you were the last thing he would see before he went to sleep, with his arm slung around your waist, and he loved that from the minute he would wake up, there you were, right by his side.

Min Yoongi loved that you were the last missing puzzle piece of his life. Fitting ever so perfectly in the gap he never knew was missing.

+ + +

“Yoongi, hold on” you gasp, head falling back into the plethora of pillows he had thrown onto the bed.

‘So you’re comfy’ Yoongi had frowned. And if you could think a coherent thought maybe you would thank him. Your head rocking up into the pillow padded headboard; pleasure licking up your spine.

You feel Yoongi’s tongue flick at your clit, a mixture of his own spit and your arousal dripping down his chin like liquid honey. And Yoongi makes sure to try and save every delicious mouthful of your essence. Something so uniquely you, so sweet, something that only Yoongi gets the pleasure to taste; because he had no plans of letting you go anytime soon.

Your boyfriend prods his tongue at your entrance, your legs shaking as his thumb gently brushes over your overstimulated clit. You see, Yoongi had this game, he liked to see how long he could eat you out, and how many times he could make you cum before he fucked you senseless on his cock. Leaving your clit to throb in a mixture of want and denial, swollen from being toyed with.

“One more, baby” he takes a deep breath, wasting no time in diving his tongue into you, molten arousal coating his lips, and as much as Yoongi loved it when your thighs would clamp round his head, today he wanted you bare. Spread out prettily just for him to devour. So, he holds your thighs open, straining them as he tries to push his head as far between your thighs as physically possible, lips pulling into a grin when you thrust your hips to meet his tongue; chasing your own pleasure.

He feels your fingers thread with his hair when he pushes his tongue in a little deeper, thumb still strumming at your clit. And he wonders if he could make you cum from just playing with your clit alone. He’d made you cum just from toying with your nipples once, the picture of you, flushed face, a sheen of sweat coating both of your bodies as his teeth clamped down on your puffy nipples, red raw from his mouth, and he remembers the surprised moan you’d graced him with when you had come.

“I can’t” you moan, mouth falling open.

Yoongi grunts, pulling his face away from your cunt, his index finger sinking into your entrance.

“Yes, you can” he tells you, fingers delving, eager to find that spot which will make you see stars, groaning at the sound you let out when he sinks a second finger into your greedy cunt.

He uses his other arm to hold down your waist as you try to eagerly buck into his fingers, little whimpers tumbling from your lips, and Yoongi thinks that was his favourite sound. He had asked once to add your moans to a song, your cheeks had flushed, laughing like Yoongi had been joking. And then your boyfriend had fucked you in his home office, with your hand clamped over your mouth, a little game to see how long you could stay silent.

He was surprised how long you’d been able to keep it up, and it had become his own personal goal to make sure you moaned his name every time he played with you.

“Please, please, please” you whine breathlessly.

“Please what, baby? I can’t help you of you don’t tell me what’s wrong” he frowns, tone mocking as he slows his fingers to a gentle thrust.

“No, no, Yoongi faster please” you cry, tilting your head to look at him, and Yoongi leans up to brush the stray tears from your cheeks, sadistic smile on his face.

“Yeah?” he asks, watching as you nod; pitiful as you rock your hips to try and push his fingers deeper inside of you.

Your boyfriend leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your pouty lips, your sad frown enough for him to finally give you what you want.

He trails his lips down your body, stopping to press a gentle kiss to your nipples, tongue flicking out to toy with them as you wiggle underneath him, shuddering breath reverberating around the otherwise silent room.

“Cum one more time and then I’ll fuck you” he mutters, “Okay, baby?”

You hum, and Yoongi pushes himself off your body.

“Words” he reminds you, and you have to wrack your brain.

“Yes”

“Good girl” he pushes his head back between his legs, something comforting about being here; like Yoongi belonged, sandwiched between your thighs.

Two of his fingers strum at your clit, a breathy chuckle fanning over your sensitive cunt when he laughs as you moan. His tongue lapping up the arousal that had started to dribble from your hole.

“You’re really wet, baby”

You hum, not quite sure you heard him or not. But Yoongi laps up another string of your essence, acting more like a starved puppy than a man, but he supposes he always was a little feral around you.

“Think you can squirt for me?” he grunts, exchanging his tongue for his fingers as the wet muscle in his mouth now plays with your clit.

He suctions the sensitive pearl, teeth grazing it as he sinks three fingers into your hole. You moan into a pillow, thighs once again shaking as Yoongi thrusts his fingers into you in quick succession. He can feel your walls clench around him sporadically, tips of his fingers nudging that spongy tissue as he curls them upwards.

“Cum, baby” he grunts, wrist straining as he tries to keep a steady pace.

He feels his fingers being pushed from your hole as you squirt, his shirt soaking through with your juices. Your thighs shakes as he pushes his fingers back into your cunt, thrusting them in a couple of times before more of your arousal leaks onto the bed sheets.

“How messy” he tuts, pulling his shirt from over his head.

“Your fault” you argue, chest rising and falling, uneasy as you catch your breath.

Yoongi pushes himself up your body, arms flexing as he leans down to press a kiss to your lips; a lot slower, more passionate than those from prior in the evening.

Yoongi brushes a wet piece of hair from your face, your forehead glazed with a thin layer of sweat.

“You did so well for me” he whispers, hands trailing down the sides of your body, an attempt to ground you a little. When he sees a little more clarity in your eyes, legs not still shaking where they rest against his thighs he presses a gentle kiss to your cheeks.

“Think you can take my cock?” he asks, “We don’t have to do anything else if you don’t want to” he reminds you.

You nod, “I’m okay, I don’t know if I can cum again though”

“Guess we’ll have to check” he pushes himself to sit on his knees.

Yoongi ignores you as you eye his sweats, hard shaft hardly veiled by the grey fabric. And you think you are moments away from jumping the man. With how perfect he looked in the orange glow of the lamplight, chin shining in your arousal. It was hard to stop your pussy from leaking, and it would have been a little embarrassing just how wet you were if you didn’t know Yoongi absolutely loved when you got like this for him.

You watch as he leans across the bed, lithe fingers tugging the drawer open. Your fingers toy with the waist band of his sweats, and Yoongi lets out a breathy chuckle when you tug on them.

Your boyfriend sits up, shiny foil packet held between two fingers, those same two fingers that had brought you to your high twice already tonight.

“Can I help?” you push yourself to sit up, biting your lip at the dull throbbing between your thighs.

Yoongi hands the condom to you, scooting himself off the bed to discard the rest of his clothes. You watch as he pulls off his sweats, having foregone any underwear that evening, and your eyes train on his cock.

You think that your boyfriend maybe had the prettiest cock, he took pride in grooming himself; always making sure to be clean. You can only wonder how long it must have been erected for, cockhead an angry red, shiny with Yoongi’s own arousal, little beads of pre-cum cascading down his length.

You lean forwards, taking the girthy cock into your hands, the familiar weight making you salivate a little. You run the tip over your lips, coating it in Yoongi’s pre-cum.

“No teasing, doll” he grunts, and you smile, pulling back.

You roll the latex over his shaft, leaving it to bob uselessly against the skin of his stomach as he climbs back onto the bed.

“You sure you’re, okay?” he checks, helping lay you down comfortably, lifting the lower half of your body by your ankles, his other hand grabbing a pillow to cushion your hips.

He drops your legs back onto the bed, watching as you smile up at him.

“Come here” you tell him, and Yoongi obliges, humming into the gentle kiss you place on his lips, your own cum still staining the taste of him.

He wraps your thighs around his waist, one arm holds him up as he lines himself with your entrance.

Your mouth falls open into a silent ‘o’ when he pushes the head in, and Yoongi always makes sure to watch your face when he finally fucks you; not only as reassurance that you like what’s happening but so he knows just the right spot to drill into you.

Yoongi holds your hips as you try to rock forwards, his own hips stuttering in anticipation; but he holds himself back, liking the intimacy of having you sprawled out beneath him, fully trusting that he’ll take care of you. There had always been something so fulfilling to Yoongi about these intimate moments with you, your bodies joining to become one, your body pliant to his every move.

His hands leave your hips, skimming up your body before lacing his finger between your own.

“You good?” he whispers, unsure if he could utter anything more with how warm and wet you were, cunt clenching rhythmically around his length.

“Yeah” you whisper back, fingers tightening around his own when he gently pulls out before thrusting back into you.

Something akin to a squeak, tumbles from your lips when Yoongi picks up his pace, hands never letting go of yours as his hips snap forwards, thighs slapping against thighs with nothing more than the music of your bodies filling the silence of your bedroom.

Yoongi can only describe the sounds coming from you as pornographic, his thrusts pushing you up a little on the bed, he feels your nails dig into the skin of his hands, his own grunts mirroring your own pleasure.

“So close, so close” he chants, using whatever strength he has left in his arms to lean down, greedily sucking your left nipple between his teeth, teasing nips sending jolts of pleasure down your body.

Your boyfriend can feel your legs shake as he sucks a love bite just above the sensitive skin of your nipple, your hips bucking to meet his own.

He lets go of one of your hands, “Play with yourself, pretty. Let’s cum together”

You nod, sweat trickling down your neck as you trail a hand down your body. Slicking up your fingers from where Yoongi thrusts into you, your fingers start to play with your clit, jolt of pleasure causing your cunt spasm around Yoongi’s cock.

“Gonna cum” you whine, Yoongi’s teeth clamping around your nipple enough to push you over the edge.

Your legs tighten around his waist, stopping Yoongi’s sloppy thrusts, as you push him as deep inside of you as humanly possible. Your mind a blank slate as it rewires, slowly trying to become conscious of your surroundings.

You feel his cock twitch, his own cum shooting him the condom.

Yoongi collapses on top of you, a rush of air squeezing from your lungs when he lands with a dull thump.

“Ouch” you giggle, not protesting when his arms snake around your waist, flipping the two of over so you lay gently on his chest.

Yoongi’s fingers brush through your damp hair, “You did so well for me, pretty” he tells you, golden glow of the lamp illuminating him in that post-orgasmic bliss. If you though Yoongi looked good on a normal day, you had been utterly in awe when you’d seen him after he’d came.

“Thank you”

“For what?” he laughs, chest rumbling under your ear.

“Making me cum three times”

“Nothing I like more than my girl feeling good”

You hum at that, trying to push yourself up. Yoongi grunts, tugging you tighter against his chest.

“Yoongs I need to pee, and I feel all sticky” you complain, fingers toying with the divot of his collarbone.

“5 minutes”

“Min Yoongi” you laugh, pinching the skin of his neck.

“Fine but be quick” he loosens his arms. When you push yourself to sit, he pulls you back down.

“Hey!” you complain.

“Need a kiss first” he puckers up his lips, and you indulge him this one time, never in a hurry when it came to kissing your love.

And as you wash up in the bathroom, door slightly ajar where he can see you milling around, his fingers play with the little beaded bracelet you’d gifted him when you spent that first Christmas together.

Yoongi loved you a lot, more than he would ever be able to describe in words. He loved that he could give you a helping hand no matter the situation, and the shiny little ring, hidden away in his nightstand shrouded in a pretty, purple velvet box was his promise to you; that he would stay by your side for the rest of his life.

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lunaroserites · 1 month

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Art and Ice - Doodle

Pairing: Eventual Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Characters: Natasha, Wanda, Pietro, Loki, Bucky, Sam Wilson, Clint Barton, a lot of the avengers cast is mentioned.

Summery: MC asks Bucky to be her focus on her project.

This might a 2 or 3 parter (it's gonna be more because cannot help myself). College AU, our boy Bucky is on the hockey team, and reader is an art major (because I love that trope and couldn't help myself)

Warnings: Not beta'd! All mistakes are my own. Friends fluff, swearing, mentions of college students being college students. Bit of friendly harmless flirting between friends. Bucky is a playboy. Fighting.

Word Court: 2770

Likes, reblogs, comments are appreciated!

Please do not repost, translate or otherwise copy my work elsewhere, without my express permission, thank you! Lunaroserites on tumblr and ao3

Catch up here: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 ❤️

“You think I can just say fuck it and drop out?” The words tumbled out of your mouth quickly as you walked with Nat toward the arena. Practice was in the afternoon today because there was a game tonight. According to Nat our rival team would be here later to do some warm up before the game tonight.

“Seriously?” She raised a manicured brow at you.

“Maybe Pietro was right. I should be a drama major,” you whispered, mostly to yourself. You knew you were being over dramatic about the ordeal, but Barnes was an egotistical jerk and he was going to make this project hell. Was that a pessimistic take on it? Maybe. Were you wrong? Probably not.

You pulled your school hoodie tighter, winter's grasp was holding on tight this year. The wind nipped at your nose and cheeks as you both made your way into the arena. Once inside the main doors heat blasted at you, you rubbed your arms with your hands and looked at Nat who was doing the same.

“You are dramatic. But it’s gonna be fine,” her confidence almost made you believe her. Originally you were just going to wait and ask him outside the arena, in hopes maybe his cocky, surefire attitude would be on the back burner. But Nat said practice was amping up now as the season drew closer to playoffs and the team would be traveling a lot more. Nat led us to our seats next to the bench, another woman was sitting there already.

“Peggy!” Nat said cheerfully, as she sat down next to her.

“Natasha!” she said cheerfully back. “Who’s this?” She smiled at you. You waved and introduced yourself.

“Oh you’re the one doing the art project? Steve mentioned it,” she asked.

You nodded, “news travels fast?” you laugh a little weirded out how she already knew.

“Hockey players gossip worse than fishermen wives in the locker room...”

“And out of it,” Nat added with a laugh, Peggy chuckled as well.

“And Barnes can’t shut up about the fact you drew him,” Peggy said with an eyeroll. Right, you thought. Peggy probably spent a decent time around him, since Steve and him were best friends, from your understanding it was rare to see one without the other.

“I’m not surprised,” you chuckled, looking down at your sketchpad. The night before you stayed up and watched videos of Barnes’ best plays and a couple of his interviews. There were some very detailed pictures of his face there. You quickly turned to a black page so Nat wouldn’t see it and poke fun. When you found a muse, it was hard for you to focus on anything but it. You could feel the hole you were digging getting bigger and bigger.

“Fuck,” you glared at Barnes as he slammed into the glass in front of you, startling you. He had his helmet lifted and he was giving you a bright and flirty smile. You raised an eyebrow at him and shook your head, uninterested in his antics. He slipped his helmet down and pushed back, skating backwards, he moved so fluidly, you couldn’t help but pay attention.

“Oi! Barnes. Pay attention,” someone snapped, you looked towards the voice and stared for a moment.

“Coach Fury,” Nat said to you, “the only person that can get Barnes to pay attention besides Steve,” she finished. You nodded before looking back at the players. Your eyes were drawn to a smaller player, he wore a 12 on his back, Stark. He had been in one of your business classes you took in your second semester. He was an interesting guy, cocky and arrogant, he also came from money. His father was the owner of Stark Industries. He was speeding up and down the ice with ease.

“12, he's fast,” you murmured to Nat, who nodded.

“He broke a record last year, his size makes it easier for him to zoom around,” Nat answered as she looked down at my paper, “Barnes really has your eye doesn’t he, this is like the Hela thing all over again,” she chuckled.

“Yeah,” you blushed deeply and looked back down at your paper. You really wished one of the other teammates caught your attention, if Clint did this would be much simpler. But of of course the school hot shot had to be one to catch your eye.

“Hey,” Nat lifted your chin and made you look at her. “It’s fine, muses come and go. That’s how art is,” she smiled, that was one thing you loved about Nat, she never questioned or made fun of your muses or how ridiculous an idea you had was when it came to your art. She would poke fun, and make silly jokes, but nothing harmful. Just good natured fun. Her support was unwavering and true.

Nat was a dancer, she was studying dance and dance theory. That’s how you two met, you accidently stumbled into one of the dance studios after hours instead of the art room. She was there practicing, and made small talk with you. You ended up just sitting on the dance room floor and working on your project talking with her as she practiced.

“You know what’s funny, I didn’t think about dance for this project,” you chuckled after you relaxed a little. Nat’s face broke into a wide smile.

“It would be the same as Pietro and the track team, but at least we look cute in our dance attire,” she mused lightly. You laughed loudly at her comment.

“You really hate those track uniforms,” you shook your head as you chuckled some more. Clint zipped passed a moment later and Nat‘s eye followed him like a magnet. “Goodness, you’re so in love, it’s sickening,” you mused, she pushed your shoulder playfully.

“How long have you two known one another?” Peggy asked.

“Since first semester,” you answered her with a smile.

“You guys are such good friends, I would have expected childhood bestfriends,” Peggy said, as she smiled at Steve who skated by.

“We just clicked,” you shrugged, returning to your sketchpad.

Practice drew to a close a little while later and you followed behind Nat and Peggy as they made their way back toward the locker room. There were a few girls, including Pepper Potts, Starks on again/off again girlfriend. Every other week Nat would be talking about it. The girl Bucky had on his arm last time was missing from the group of girls waiting for the players to leave the locker room. First out was Clint, and he made a beeline for Nat, instantly pulling her into a hug and pressing his nose into her neck, she squealed a little as his cold nose made contact with her skin.

Peggy excused herself to go wait by the door for Steve who emerged with Barnes a moment later. She whispered something in Steve’s ear and pointed over at you with a smile. Steve nodded and waved with a small smile of his own. Barnes followed his gaze and instantly he perked up when he noticed you. He swaggered toward you, past the gaggle of girls waiting to try and get his attention, you noticed a couple of them glare in your direction. You stood with your arms crossed over your chest, sketch book tucked against your side. You looked up at him as he came up to you making a complete stop a foot in front of you. He really didn’t care about personal space, you took one step back so you didn't have to crane your neck as much to look him in the face.

“And what do I owe the pleasure today Doodle,” you cocked an eyebrow at the nickname, and squinted slightly. The nickname didn’t make you scrunch your nose or want to gag so it wasn’t the worst. You sighed heavily and danced on the balls of your feet for a moment. He just stared, watching you intently, a dumb cocky smirk plastered on his face.

“Would you let me draw you for my art project?” You asked, you wished the weight bearing down on your shoulders lifted but it didn’t. You dreaded the thought of spending more time with this menace of a man. His lip twitched further upward and showed some of his perfect white teeth.

“Ah Doodle, I thought you'd never ask,” he ruffled your hair with one of his big hands. You groaned and moved your head from him and tried to fix your hair.

“Don’t touch me, please,” you said sternly. “I just need permission to draw you and use your likeness.”

“Ah don’t be like that,” he moved forward and you stepped backwards and to the right, dodging him. He huffed in annoyance and you stared at him with your arms crossed again and slight scowl. “Will you be at the game tonight?” He asked, finally standing upright, his own arms crossed across his broad chest.

“Seats are sold out besides the reserved seats for team partners,” you stated, “so no not tonight.”

“There's always a seat reserved for my girl, you can have that one,” he stated matter of factly.

“I’m not your girl,” you said back firmly. “This whole thing is for my art project,” you moved your hand jestering to both of you, “it ends once my project is done.”

You couldn’t quite place the look on his face after you said that, but you could pick up the small look of challenge in his eyes. It seemed he was making this game, like he was contemplating how long it would be before you would cave and give him what he wanted. Another notch in his bed post. From what you could tell based on his body language alone he was not used to being rejected. Women usually flaunted over him and fell in his lap, all he had to do was choose who he wanted at that moment. Your determination to not be one of those girls was considered a challenge to him, met head on with stubborn determination to break you down and get what he wanted in the end. That made your stomach twist at the thought, he only wanted to do this to sleep with you, have some fun and then dump you off on Loki’s lap heart broken.

You shook your head, lost in your own thoughts. Barnes was still looking at you, a contemplative look on his face. He had his chin in his hand as he rubbed it, “this will be fun, see you tonight Doodle.” You glared at him as he walked away, twirling his keys around his finger.

“Jerk,” you said softly to yourself before you made your way over to Nat and Clint.

“Well that went better than I expected,” Nat said quietly as the three of you left the rink until you had to be back later.

A sleek black car was parked at the curb, you waved goodbye to Nat and Clint as you ran over to the car and slid into the passenger seat, you rolled the window down and shouted “goodbye! See you later,” Nat waved and they continued walking.

“Hey Loki!” You said cheerfully.

“Hello darling, I take it asking Barnes went well?” He asked as he put the car in drive and pulled out from the curb.

“It went alright. The cocky bastard,” you clipped your belt in place and turned your head to look at Loki fully. “He’s already flirting with me,” you shook your head in annoyance.

“At least he has good taste darling,” Loki said sweetly as we sped down the freeway into town to have an early dinner.

“Have fun darling,” Loki shouted out the open window of the car as he dropped you off at the arena. You turned back and gave him an unamused smile and flipped him off.

“Yeah, fuck you,” you said with a slight laugh and turned away, waving, “love you dork,” you said over your shoulder. Nat was waiting just inside the arena for you and led you to your seats.

“So one of the perks of dating hockey players? Free seats?” You mused sitting down next to her, the arena was still pretty empty as the game didn’t start for 45 minutes.

“One of them,” she chuckled. Warm ups started and Clint stopped for a moment in front of us and lifted his helmet.

“Hey girls,” he said with a smile before darting off to warm up.

“Looks like Barnes just noticed us,” Nat said as he skated over.

“He had me clocked from the parking lot,” you grumbled. Nat laughed loudly and placed her hand on your shoulder wiping a tear from her eye.

“You’re not wrong,” she said between giggles. Barnes skated forward and came to stop sending glittering flecks of shaved ice toward the glass.

“Nat, Doodle, how's my new favourite girl?” He asked with a cocky smile. You rolled your eyes, and placed your cheek on your hand as you looked at him with a deadpan expression, Nat smirked next to you. You watched as Barnes ran his tongue over his teeth, he then winked and skated off to join warm ups.

“Do the woman he dates actually like that attitude?” You mused absently as you doodled on the open page of your sketchbook. Nat shrugged.

“Honestly, they’re probably more interested in his looks, and don’t care about anything else. That or the potential paycheck he’ll be earning if they can tie him down long enough,” She said softly. Your gut twisted uncomfortably at that, and you grimaced. Sure the guy was an arrogant prick, but he deserved better than that. Nat noticed your facial expression and nodded. “It’s not really fair, there's moments when he’s more than the arrogant show off, he’s pretty sweet. I think he’s just gotten used to hiding it; he doesn't bother being anything else.”

“Be what they expect of you and no one will question it,” you hummed. You mindless doodles turned into a simple sketch of his face. You admired the sharpness of his jaw, his mouth set in a soft line that was slightly upturned.

The game started, and you were too focused on watching Barnes skate to really watch the game. Not that you really understood the sport enough to really understand what was happening in front of you. First intermission passed and they were half through the second period when a black punk landed on your sketch pad. It startled you and your head shot up and you meant Barnes eyes. Nat was giggling next to you as you picked the offending puck up and handed it to the kid sitting behind you, who happened to be wearing a Barnes jersey. The kids day was made and Barnes’ narrowed his eyes at you. You smirked back in return and went back to drawing.

The crowd erupted in loud chants as Barnes scored with less than a second left in the third period, winning the game for your college. You watched as Barnes skated around celebrating his goal only for the captain of the other team to get up in his face. You tensed up as you watched the guy push Barnes shoulders and then grab his protective gear getting in his face.

So the rest of the team came to investigate and there was an all out brawl on the ice right in front of you. You stood up and looked down. Barnes was on top of the captain, his fist raised and he was breathing heavily.

“Bucky,” his name left your lips before you could stop it and he had to have heard you because his face tilted in your direction for a fraction of a second and the captain took that as an opportunity to flip Barnes over and bring a hard fist down on the bridge of his nose. You shrieked as blood gushed out of Barnes’ nose. Nat was standing next to you as you both watched in horror.

You turned your head and saw your college coach hopping the bench and helping refs break it up. Steve hauled the other team's captain off his best friend and shoved him into the arms of other teammates who pulled him further away. Steve helped Barnes up and took his face in his hands, Barnes just gave him a dopey smile. His gaze turned to you for a moment and he smiled a bigger smile. You looked at him with wide eyes and your mouth agape, horrified.

The captain of the other team didn’t look like he fared much better. He was bloody and his eye was swelling shut with each passing second. Coach Fury looked pissed, and was stalking over to the other teams coach for a few words, a ref following close behind.

Taglist: @vicmc624, @calwitch, @learisa, @aaqua-tofana

Feel free you send me a message if you have a request or would like more, or would like to be added to the tag list <3

#bucky imagine #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #marvel #bucky barns imagine #bucky fanfic #bucky x you #hockeyplayer!bucky x artist!reader #college!bucky #college au #college fic #bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #reader insert

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geddy-leesbian · 2 months

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SERRENNEDY POKEMON CROSSOVER AU FOR SERRENNEDY WEEK!!

As you can see above, this is very angsty. Leon and Luis both have a lot of trauma and Baggage. Luis almost has a panic attack and does some trauma dumping.

While there's no explicit smut on screen, there's a moment that gets kinda steamy and a fade to black/implied sex scene.

(oh and personally I feel very awkward swapping things out with pokemon terminology, like using "Arceus" instead of "God" so there is normal swearing here)

“Dr. Serra Navarro?”

“Well, yes, that is me, but typically I prefer Professor Serra,” His eyes wander all over Leon. “Though for someone as pretty as you, I prefer just Luis. Is there something I can help you with?”

Leon was afraid that he was going to go all the way to Alola only to find out it was all a complete waste because Professor Serra actually was just a professor unfortunate enough to share a name with a Team Rocket scientist. But that outcome is already ruled out. Either this guy is the lead he's been seeking for years, or he's an innocent professor that Leon will ask out on a date.

Due to excitement over finally finding a new lead, this trip was hastily put together, and Leon didn't realize how young Dr. Serr– Luis was. Once he confirmed that Luis was from Johto, he didn't go any deeper. He did see a couple pictures, but didn't pay much attention, and assumed the youthfulness was because they were older pictures. His assumption was very wrong. Luis is about his age and way too good-looking. The length of his grayish pink hair is braided, and the loose bangs are fluffy. His tinted glasses are a little too big for his face, but in a cute way. He's taller than Leon. And his outfit is fucking stupid. Shirtless under a lab coat. So stupid. It's hot.

A date with him will make this trip more than worth it.

“I just have some questions for you.”

“About? Are you a parent, or..? I don't think I've seen you around before, but I don't usually get anyone else dropping in on me like this…”

Shit. Leon really should have thought of a cover story beforehand. But in addition to not thoroughly researching Luis enough, he was also too high on the excitement of finally finding something after years of searching to bother thinking through what he'd say.

“Just heard about you, found your past interesting. From Johto originally, was wondering how it affected you. If you had any run-ins with Team Rocket.”

And it looks like Leon will not be going on a date with a handsome professor tonight. This is the guy. He recovers quickly, but for a split second, the phrase ‘Team Rocket’ invokes some panic in his expression.

“No. I was fortunate enough to never have encountered them.”

“You know anything about Mew?”

“Yes, of course? What kind of a professor would I be if I didn't? Mythical pokemon from deep in jungles in South America. Believed to be the ancestor of all pokemon.”

“What about Mewtwo?”

“I've heard the rumors, yes. A clone of Mew that was heavily genetically modified. But I believe that those are just that, rumors. There is no real substance to the claims.”

“Cinnabar Island. That's where you worked when Team Rocket captured and imprisoned Mew. You cruelly experimented on Mew. You helped create Mewtwo.”

“Who in the hell do you think you are, showing up at my doorstep to accuse me of such insane things?!”

“International Police!” Luis starts to shut the door, but Leon blocks the door with his foot. While he wasn't wearing his full uniform, he did bring his badge and takes it out to flash to Luis. He sees some purple fur coming up behind Luis. Must be an espeon, coming to protect its trainer. “Put that in its pokeball and open the door. Now.”

“I will do no such thing! I'm not proud of what I did back then, but I've done my best to leave it all behind, build a new life for myself. I will not allow you, or anyone else, to rip all of that away from me.”

“Not proud of what you did back then? So you admit it?”

“It doesn't matter. Arrest me if you really want, but it won't be anything more than a waste of time for the both of us. I'll maybe spend a night or two in jail, then be let go without charges being filed because I have a good reputation here and you have no evidence. If you try to tell anyone I confessed to involvement with Team Rocket, they won't believe you. You'll ruin your own reputation.”

“I do have evidence! Documents connecting you to the Mew experiments and the creation of Mewtwo.”

Luis actually starts laughing.

“You don't know as much as you think you do then. You find my name on a scrap of paper in the crumbling ruins of a lab, and think you know my life story! So arrogant! Yes, I did work at the Cinnabar lab, but I did not contribute to the creation of Mewtwo. I did not experiment on Mew. I have never had the privilege to even see the legendary Mew in the flesh. Mewtwo had already been created and Mew had already escaped before I was even hired. I can prove that your supposed timeline of my work history is impossible in court, so good luck getting a conviction!”

Leon moves his foot and lets Luis shut the door, and slinks away from his house with his tail between his legs.

…

Leon checks into a motel. He turns the TV on, but he can't focus on it. His mind can't stop wandering back to the conversation, analyzing every word. He fucked up.

“I'm not proud of what I did back then.”

He really fucked up. That could have been a very good angle. Tell Luis that this is his chance to atone and right his wrongs by telling Leon everything he knows about Team Rocket. Maybe even offer some kind of immunity deal if he still seemed hesitant.

But he had to get hot headed and fuck it all up. His first lead in years, and he blew it.

Not ready to admit defeat quite yet, he decides to give himself a day to cool his head off, before trying again. At least Alola offers plenty of distractions. He's not one for most of the tourist trap shit, but distracts himself with hikes through some scenic, and more importantly, rugged terrains. Pushing his body always helps him get his mind together. It's isolated enough that he can let all of his pokemon out too.

Something else Alola offers is a brutal sun. Leon didn't think to buy any sunscreen, and has a bad burn across his face by the end of the day. He's been through far worse, the pain is nothing to him, but he is annoyed at himself for being so stupid. His pokemon were quite happy with the exercise and exploration though, and his head feels clearer, so overall it was a pretty successful day.

…

A knock at Luis's door again. Rattled by yesterday, the knocking gives him a spike of anxiety. Still, he gets up to answer it, in case it's a student or parent that needs something.

He looks through the peephole and sees the same pretty International Police agent that came by yesterday. Luis really doesn't want to open the door. But he's worried it'll be worse if he doesn't and the man busts the door down. Besides, Espeon seems at ease with the situation, not alarmed and protective like she was yesterday. So he opens the door a bit, keeping the chain lock secure in case he tries to get in. (He would certainly be able to break the chain, but at least it would buy Luis a few extra seconds to try to think of a desperate plan.)

“Hello, officer! What are you here to threaten me with today?” Not wanting the agent to know how shaken he is, he turns up the sarcasm in an attempt to mask any nervousness. “Going to accuse me of experimenting on Arceus?

“No. No accusations today. Sorry, about yesterday. Wasn't polite to you. Can I try to make up for it, buy you dinner?”

“You can't seriously believe I'm going to just walk right into whatever kind of trap this is?”

“It's not a trap. Just feel bad about yesterday, I swear. I'm Leon, by the way. Think I forgot to mention it before.”

Luis goes to shut the door, but Espeon seems determined that Leon should be heard out, and telekinetically lifts the chain and nudges the door open. Leon smiles, and it cuts right through Luis's fear.

“I don't like you, and I don't trust you. But…” The prettiest man that Luis has ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on is trying to buy him dinner. (The angry red sunburn on his face does make him the tiniest bit less pretty, but he's still incredibly pretty.) Whether it's a date or something else, turning him down goes against everything Luis believes in. “I suppose I'm willing to put that aside for a free meal.”

“Look, you have every right to feel that way. But I really regret yesterday, I swear. It's just this subject… My parents were Team Rocket. Died on a mission,” Leon hates talking about this. With anyone. Back in his pokemon trainer days, before deciding to join the International Police, he'd had some time in the limelight. First as a rising star gym challenger, then as a champion. He always sidestepped questions when interviewers started asking about family. He especially hates talking about it to a member of Team Rocket. But this is the price he pays for fucking up yesterday. If he wants Luis to trust him and give him what he came for, he needs to give something himself. “Never knew details until I started investigating some stuff related to Team Rocket, found out they died on one of the expeditions looking for Mew. So this whole topic just gets me hot headed and dumb and I say things I don't mean and regret.”

“Well, it sounds like you shouldn't be an International Police agent then, if you can't separate your own personal issues from the job.”

“Yeah, maybe I shouldn't be…” Leon says, because what else is there to say? Luis isn't wrong. “C'mon, dinner. Walked past a restaurant on the way here, you know if it's any good?”

“Yes, we can eat there. By the way, are you aware that your face is extremely sunburned? I have stuff I could put on to help it.”

“Food first. Maybe after.”

“Suit yourself. I'm going to change, I'll be out in a minute.”

Luis ditches the lab coat and comes out with a top on, something that disappoints Leon more than it should. At least it's just a vest that shows off a decent amount of his chest. His hair is down today, and it somehow makes him look even better.

Leon regretted the way he approached Luis yesterday, but initially it wasn't because of guilt. Even if it wasn't Mewtwo, there was something Luis was involved in. He only denied experimenting on Mew and creating Mewtwo, he admitted he was a member of Team Rocket. Luis deserved the harsh treatment, he had only regretted it because Luis could be useful to him. But he does feel a small twinge of guilt for demanding he put his espeon in its pokeball when it follows Luis out the door and he sees that it has a service pokemon vest on. Maybe Luis would have felt safe and opened the door if he could keep Espeon out.

“I can walk there fine,” Luis says, noticing Leon looking at the harness. “I have an injury from a long time ago that flares up from time to time, but Espeon can sense when I'm going to have problems with it, gives me warning, and helps me not fall on my face when it does act up and I struggle keeping my balance. But it is fine most days.”

They sit across from each other, Espeon laying under the table by Luis's feet. Leon has to keep reminding himself that this is not a date. This is an attempt to get Luis to move past yesterday's harsh treatment so Leon can have a second chance at interrogating him. Despite his attempts to not ogle Luis, Leon can't help himself, and notices something very interesting. Scars. The biggest one is on his chest, and another on his cheek.

Being in a public place seems to put Luis at ease. Somewhat, he's at least smiling and looking more relaxed. As it probably should. Leon is dying to grill Luis about the “injury from a long time ago” and the scars he's noticed since sitting down. But this isn't the time or place.

“So… Small talk time?” God. This is actually a fucking date. “How long you been a cop? And why are you still poking around with Team Rocket? They're not a problem anymore. Disbanded twice, no activity in years. One would think the International Police might have some, ah, you know, actual problems to deal with, eh?”

“Been one for a few years. There's not a lot of resources being used up for it anymore, but it still matters to me personally,” There's actually no resources spent on it. Leon isn't here on official International Police business. The Team Rocket hunt is just vigilante shit Leon does on his own time. “Just because they've stopped doesn't mean they shouldn't be brought to justice for the past. Their leader slipped away, it just doesn't sit right with me. I'm trying to nail as many members who slipped away as possible,” Luis's smile disappears. “As far as justice goes, I'm mostly concerned about the big fish. Leader, executives. Finding small fish is just a good way to get leads on the big ones.”

“So if I understand, you help the small fish, they help you? They tell you everything they know about the big fish, and in exchange you don't come down hard on them?” Leon smiles and nods. It'll probably take longer than it should have because he'll need to build some trust after freaking the fuck out their first conversation, but Luis will play the game and give him what he came for. Luis's smile comes back. “Well, interesting… How have your investigations been going?”

“I've made some good leads,” That's a complete lie. Finding Luis's name in the ruins of Cinnabar Island is literally the only lead he's had in years. But telling Luis that will make him feel empowered. “William's out there somewhere, just a matter of time until I find him. Or until he gets tired of licking his wounds in secret and re-emerges on his own, something I'm hoping to at least make harder for him by picking off people he'll need to organize.”

…

“Do you want to come in?” Is Luis trying to have sex with him right now? They did just go on a date, after all. Why doesn't Leon want to say no? “So I can help you with your sunburn.”

Shit. Leon needs to get his mind out of the gutter.

Leon sits on Luis's couch, and Luis drags a stool over by the couch to sit on while he gently rubs ointment across his face with his (gloved) hands. Their faces are so close together. Leon has to stop looking at his face, because he wants to lean forward and kiss Luis. So he looks down. At Luis's neck. A fatal mistake. Before his brain can even process what his body's doing, he's pulling Luis forward, off the stool and onto Leon's knee. His teeth are sinking into Luis's neck.

As soon as he realizes what he's done, he hopes that Luis is going to ask him what the hell he's doing and get up off of him, because he's not sure he'll be able to control himself if Luis is into this too.

Of course Leon isn't that lucky. Luis moans at the first bite. He moans again and grinds down on Leon's knee with the second bite. The third bite has him yanking off the ointment covered rubber gloves and just tossing them on the floor, so he can start exploring Leon's body with his hands.

“I wish I could make some quip about buying me dinner first, but you quite literally did just buy me dinner, so… And really, I would be happy with this even if you hadn't,” Leon just keeps biting as Luis rambles. Now there's a hand in his hair, that clenches around or tugs at it with every bite. There's another hand working the button on his vest, and Leon is quite impressed by his finesse. With one hand and without even looking, Luis quickly has all of them unbuttoned. Though it doesn't get him to the bareskin he's desperately trying to get to, Leon also has a button down undershirt on. Luis doesn't bother unbuttoning all of them, just a couple so he can reach the bareskin of Leon's chest. “Someone as pretty as you doesn't need to buy me dinner, they can just do whatever they'd like to me. You're a cop, you have handcuffs? I'm into that.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Leon pushes him off his lap and gets up, then picks Luis up bridal style. Partially because he wants to give Luis a subtle reminder that he isn't just some small-time cop. He is, in fact, a very well trained special agent in peak physical condition. But mostly because there's a very specific place he wants to carry Luis to. He wasn't lying about someone like Leon being able to do whatever; he readily accepts being picked up, wrapping his arms around Leon's neck. “Where's your bedroom?”

…

“I didn't know I was working for Team Rocket initially. They had things very well compartmentalized. I was hired by a shell company. They had a contract with Devon Corp, so it really seemed like a completely legitimate company.”

In the afterglow, Luis finally starts speaking about his past. Leon briefly wonders if this makes him a whore. He isn't getting money for having sex with Luis, but he is getting information. Something even more valuable to him. The entire reason he's here.

But intent matters, right? Leon didn't start biting his neck because he wanted information. He didn't suck his dick because he wanted information. He didn't put him in handcuffs and sit on his face because he wanted information. He did all of it just because he wanted to. Just because Luis is hot enough that Leon temporarily forgot that he hated him. He was fully prepared to just go back to his motel room after, without any additional info from Luis, and just keep building the trust. So while he's not a whore, he definitely is a slut. Whatever. He's making more progress in his investigation than he has in years, it's fine.

“I was in a research team focused on mega evolution, specifically artificial mega evolution,” Luis continues. “Devon had recently perfected an artificial pokemon line, Beldum. They wanted us to find a way to make Metagross mega evolve. It was no easy task… But we did it. We tinkered around, created an artificial mega stone that metagross would respond to. We researched further, tweaking things to modify metagross's mega form, until we felt it was powerful enough. I was informed that Devon was extremely pleased with the work, and given a promotion, to be the head researcher on a new project my company started…”

“Guessing that's when you started at the Cinnabar lab?”

Luis says nothing, just stares down blankly, frozen. Leon reaches for a pokeball on the nightstand, and lets his sylveon out. It knows exactly what to do, approaching Luis to wrap its ribbon feelers around his arm. Leon hadn't ever wanted a sylveon. He had wanted his eevee to evolve into an espeon, actually. He thought the psychic abilities would be useful in his line of work. But it evolving into a sylveon instead has been a happy accident. Its calming abilities can be surprisingly useful.

“Yes, it was,” Luis answers. He's still wincing at the memories, but Sylveon's soothing aura is preventing him from having a full-blown panic attack and shutting down. “All I was told beforehand was that it was another project related to artificial mega stones. This was when the Alola research about mega evolution being cruel on the pokemon was starting to come out, so in my naivete I assumed we'd be modifying natural mega stones in ways that would make it easier on the pokemon. I knew something was deeply wrong when I was led downstairs. Armed guards. There was a whole maze of hallways and locked gates. As I said yesterday, Mewtwo was already created by this point. It had also escaped once and only narrowly recaptured, so there was much stronger security. I was never alone, there were always at least two armed guards with me at all times. It wasn't just to keep Mewtwo from getting out, it was also to keep me in. I knew it was wrong, it made my stomach churn, but I did the work. I did what was asked of me. We made two artificial mega stones tailored to Mewtwo. Two different stones, two different forms with different strengths.”

Despite Sylveon's feelers, and now Espeon's face rubbing against his other arm, Luis breaks down sobbing.

“You're okay. You're safe,” Leon whispers. Sylveon moves away from Luis's lap, laying down at the end of the bed, so that Leon can wrap his arms around him. As helpful as soothing pokemon like Sylveon can be, sometimes people just need human touch. Leon wants to press for more information right away, but he's not going to repeat yesterday's mistake. He has to go slow, he can't risk pushing Luis away and making him shut down before he's gotten all the information he can out of him. “You don't have to tell me the rest right now. Take all the time you need, okay, sweetheart?”

Jesus Christ. He just had sex with a member of Team Rocket, and now he's calling him sweetheart. At least he's making progress.

Luis just clings to Leon and sobs for a few minutes, before finally speaking again.

“I didn't want to, Leon. I didn't want to. I didn't have a choice. They were forcing me to, they would hurt me if I didn't, and I couldn't get help. Not from gym leaders. Everyone knows that William was the Viridian gym leader, but it went so much deeper than anyone knew. The lab was right by the Cinnabar gym, Wesker was the gym leader and heavily involved in all of the Team Rocket science research. Alexia, Saffron's leader at the time, was quite involved too and came to the lab regularly. The ones who weren't involved were getting paid off to look the other way. The police were paid off too,” Leon entwines one of his hands with Luis's and squeezes it, presses chaste kisses onto his neck, trying to encourage him to keep talking. This is a goldmine. He's long suspected there was a lot of corruption in Kanto and some intentional incompetence during the initial Team Rocket investigations, but could never get anything solid. And the fact that there were other gym leaders directly involved is actually news to him. “It was so screwed up what we were doing, I lost sleep over it, I barely ate because I had no appetite. Until one day…”

A loud, choked sob.

“Mewtwo got out again. All the new precautions weren't enough. It attacked all of us, we deserved it… It was a lab, there were scalpels, lots of glass to break, so many sharp objects that it lifted with its mind to hurl at us. That's how I got all my scars. The worst wound was in my back. It almost killed me, if it had pushed the bone saw in even just a little bit deeper, I would have died. I only survived because… It wasn't luck, it didn't make a mistake, it chose not to wound me fatally, because… Because I think it got in my head, it didn't say anything but it made eye contact with me, and saw that I wasn't a willing participant in its torture. The room after, blood… So much… I was the only one spared, it killed all the others.”

Luis untangles himself from Leon and lays down, closing his eyes. Seems like that's all the information he's getting tonight. Which he isn't upset about, it's a lot, far more than he was expecting. He'd like to know more about Mewtwo, where it ended up after this, and of course he needs more details about Wesker and Alexia.

“Stay?” Luis asks quietly, when Leon starts getting dressed. “Please?”

“Yeah,” Leon does still reach for his pants, but doesn't put them on, just fishes out his notepad so he can write everything down while it's still fresh. “Okay, I'll stay.”

It's dangerous. Leon is so close to liking this guy. Something he needs to not do, because Luis very much has the potential to be dangerous. The main reason Leon had been so hot headed and harsh to him initially is because he thought he got away with everything. He thought that Luis was a monster, and, instead of paying for his crimes, just walked away completely unscathed. Just moved to a new region, was completely accepted, became a pokemon professor, a pillar of the community. A role model.

But that's been shattered. While it may not have been in the traditional route, Luis has paid for his crimes. Is paying for them. Leon is cynical enough that he might have believed everything was just bullshit to manipulate him under other circumstances, but there's enough that it's undeniable. There's more than just faded scars that could have been the result of anything, he has an actual service pokemon. Years later, his injuries are still problematic enough for him to need that assistance. And clearly, he is genuinely traumatized. No one is that good at acting, Team Rocket is truly a trigger for him.

The issue is that Leon doesn't know why it's a trigger. Even injured and traumatized, Luis could be dangerous. The best case scenario is that he's been completely with Leon, and truly hates what he did. The worst case scenario is that he doesn't feel any guilt for his actions, and his near death experience was the only source of the trauma, without any emotional side to it.. Even injured and traumatized, Luis has the potential to be very dangerous.

“Hey, Luis?” Leon whispers after he's done jotting down notes about what Luis said, hoping he's not already asleep. His eyes flutter open. “Is it fine if I let my growlithe out? Usually sleep with it.”

“Go ahead. Just don't leave me. I don't want to wake up alone.”

He should leave. Luis is dangerous. Luis is Team Rocket. And Leon might already be a little bit in love with him, and needs to get the fuck away from him before he falls in even deeper.

But he doesn't. Instead he lets Growlithe out, turns off the lamp on the nightstand, and spoons Luis. He falls asleep with his arms wrapped around him, face buried in his fluffy hair. Espeon sleeps on the floor in its own little bed, while Growlithe and Sylveon lay down by their feet.

#serennedy week 2024 #serennedy #serrennedy #luis serra #leon kennedy #luis sera navarro #leon s kennedy #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil 4 #re4 remake #re4make #re4

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guavagyu · 2 years

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eyeshadow - y.jh (part 1)

JEONGHAN JEONGHAN HEONGHAN JWONGAHN HHAHHIUAHKAHJKSAHJKSHJKASHIUSHIUAHIUDHIUAHIUDHIUADGUIADIUGDGIUADGIUAIUGGIUADIGUADIGUADIHUGDAIUHSHIUAHIU

request: jeonghan fanfic where new stylist/makeup artist and jeonghan fall in love? slow burn, sexual tension, secret relationship typa thang ;) <3!

oof ive never written those things but ill try my best!! ty for sending in a request ily <33

also gonna make the reader the makeup artist AND the stylist cuz we love typical cliché shit like this

ITALIC WORDS REPRESENT THOUGHTS!

also ayo im gonna make this a series since i kinda left this on a cliffhanger and im desperate to publish so 👀

wc: 604

content/warnings: slow burn (duh), sexual tension (obviously), secret relationship (AASHGAJHGAJHS DUH), afab!reader, tall!reader (like same height as jeonghan aka like 178 cm or 5'10"), model!jeonghan cuz yum, stylist!reader, makeup-artist!reader, non-idol!au, swearing yihghgfdrtfyg, eventual smut lmao (not yet tho </3), lemme know if more r present 👺

next part!

"ok, thank you so much for your time. can you start next monday?" your interviewer asked, you had finally secured a well-paying job that fit your skills to a tee, at none other than Reminiscence, one of the most successful modeling agencies in the world as a makeup artist and stylist,

"yeah! that should work, thank you so much!" you gave your interviewer a quick yet formal bow, and calmly left the room, making your way out of the building with haste, eager to collapse in your giant, fluffy bed. as you started your car, you realized something, you had left your purse in the interviewing room! somehow you had your keys but not your purse, which was kinda dumb. anyways, you sprinted back into the building, shockingly balanced despite your high heels being, you know, horribly brittle. thankfully, your purse was still there, your interviewer saying they would've called you later if you hadn't returned already. you thank them again, and steadily pace your way out of the building yet again, making sure everything was still there, until (a/n: ugh so cliché but im fresh out of original ideas) a person clearly in a hurry ran straight into your back,

"OH MY GOD IM SO SORRY!" a man with royal-like silver hair fit for a prince, with the looks like they were god-sent, with his ears and cheeks pink like cotton candy, you were getting lost in his visuals as he kept rambling on how it was an accident and how he was in a hurry, but you paid none of it any attention, he seemed to be around your height if it weren't your heels, you couldn't help but think fuck he's so pretty. soon, once this prince-like man had finished his mini-rant, he noticed that you were staring at him, clearly not listening to anything he said,

“um, are you alright ma’am?” he smiled awkwardly,

“hm? oh yeah, sorry, was just thinking about something,” you returned his gentle smile,

"ok so what i was sayi-" he was about to restart his whole rant before you cut him off,

"hey, it's fine, don't worry about it, mk?" you smiled again,

"you sure?" he raised a perfect eyebrow,

"yeah, i'm sure, now i gotta get going, don't beat yourself up alright?" he gave a small "ok" and then you were both on your way, although, you couldn't help but letting that man cross your mind with every passing minute, and after a few more red lights and various turns, you had reached home, aka your apartment. ah, my bed, my beloved bed. soon, you quickly changed out of the clothes you wore to the interview, and into more comfortable attire. since you were quite free for the rest of the day, you plopped down onto your heavenly bed and decided to research the company you were gonna work for. you already knew a ton about Ethereal Inc, you just wanted to look random stuff up, plus you were bored as hell. you were doing some digging around the web, and you- HOLY MOTHERFUCKING SHIT! HE'S A MODEL!? AT REMINISCENCE!? OH MY FUCKING GOD I MIGHT HAVE TO WORK WITH HIM! yeah, and you really didn't know how to feel about it. there were pros and cons, aka you having to work with a gorgeous noble hot as fuck man who's name was apparently yoon jeonghan, however, he might be too embarrassed from this morning's events, and may refuse to work with you. were you just overthinking things? it's all a possibility, but you never know.

--------

#jeonghan #yoon jeonghan #yoon jeonghan smut #jeonghan smut #svt smut #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop fanfiction #kpop fluff

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winnifredburkleismyhero · 2 years

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The Voice of an Angel

The Voice of an Angel – (Chapter 1)

(Modern / Neighbor / Apartment AU)

Summary: After moving into a new place, Reader hears her neighbor (Eddie) singing, through the wall of the apartment. She knows the song, so she sings along. An unexpected duet ensues.

Pairing: Mechanic!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader (Pronouns used: She/Her)

Warnings: Drinking is mentioned (Eddie / Reader are over 21) & mention of Cursing (no actual swearing)

Song Lyrics: Driving Nails by Demon Hunter

Author’s Note: I had this idea that Eddie is totally the type who sings in the shower. I love the idea of meeting someone for the first time without actually being able to see the person… like it’s mysterious and exciting. This was originally going to be a drabble or a one shot, but Eddie and Reader were just begging for more of a story than that. There will be some serious themes in later chapters, so definitely pay attention to the warnings on each chapter! As always, all mistakes are mine. And the photo edit is mine, made from pictures off of Pinterest.

Feedback is meaningful and appreciated!!! ❤️

(I do not consent to have my work posted, translated or published to any third party site or app. If my work is found anywhere else but here, it has been reposted without my permission. )

Reader’s POV

New city, new apartment, new start? The little nondescript apartment complex on the northeast side of Indianapolis was as far from your home in North Manchester as you could get on your small budget. Looking up at the three story brick building, you sat in your car, willing your mind to let go of the past year. As you get out of the car, a warm fall breeze stirs your hair around your face, and you take a deep, steadying breath.

Hopefully, you pick up the last box from next to your beat up little car, and head up the outside stairs, walking down the corridor past the door of your new neighbor. Coming into your new home, you feel a little overwhelmed. Shutting the front door with a sigh, you gazed around at the stacks of boxes in your new living room, trying to decide which room in the two bedroom apartment to start unpacking first.

Finding a box labeled ‘Bathroom’, you headed down the hallway and turned on the light in the small bathroom. Sitting down on the faded linoleum tile floor with the box in front of the cupboard under the sink, you slice open the box and start pulling your stuff out. As you organize the things under the sink, you notice that over the sounds of creaky pipes and running water you can hear music, like someone singing. Loudly. In the shower maybe. Probably whoever lives in the apartment directly next to yours.

I was the light / I was the quiet heart / I was the place we used to dwell. / And when the cold would tear your life apart, / I was the warmth that you had felt

The voice is male, rich and full, loud yet soulful, and as you listen, you realize that you know the song your new neighbor is singing. Interesting that you’ve moved in next to someone who knows the metal band Demon Hunter. His voice makes you shiver a bit, intense but hypnotizing, making the song seem new and exciting to you. Humming along to yourself as you organize your stuff in the cupboard, you get a little lost in the lyrics.

What have I become? / Thoughts like shadows swelling through my mind. / What have I become? / Something else inside… / It’s driving nails into my soul / Angels from my door. / Driving nails into my soul / Something inside…

Impulsively, you decide that you’ll join in singing when he gets to the second verse. Closing your eyes, tilting your head back, and lifting your voice to belt out the next words along with him, you sing:

I was the blood inside your broken heart / I was the stone that you had held

You hear a thud, like something was dropped, a few grumbled curse words, the water shuts off, then silence. Afraid of losing your nerve, you continue the song…

What have I become? /Thoughts like shadows swelling through my mind. / What have I become? / Something else inside… / It’s driving nails into my soul / Angels from my door. / Driving nails into my soul / Something else inside...

His voice joins yours again, tentatively at first, then louder. You smile to yourself as his voice blends with yours.

It’s driving nails into my soul / Angels from my door. Driving nails into my soul / Something inside…

It’s a strangely intimate experience, sharing a duet with a mysterious stranger, separated only by a thin apartment wall. You feel a little bit better now, less lonely maybe. Music has always been one of the constants in your life, especially when things got tough. As the song is ending, you wonder what he is like, this metalhead neighbor of yours. You wonder if it’ll be awkward to meet him after singing with him.

I close my eyes / Search for you / Retracing every step

Maybe it’s easier to connect when you can’t see the other person. You don’t exactly have the best luck with men or relationships. Is this weird for him too? You muse to yourself as you finally empty the packing box in your lap.

It’s driving nails into my soul / Angels from my door. Driving nails into my soul / Something inside…

Standing up to go back to the living room, you and your neighbor finish the last refrain of the song. His sweet voice gives you goosebumps, the good kind that you often get when listening to music. In fact, if you wanted to be cliché about it, you would swear he had a voice like honey.

Nails into my soul / Angels from my door. Driving nails into my soul / Something else inside… It’s driving nails into my soul / Angels from my door. Driving nails into my soul / Something inside.

How were you to know that you’d be moving in next to a guy with the voice of an angel?

Eddie’s POV

Eddie Munson had had quite a long day at the garage, where he’d worked for the last five years. A long day full of noise and stress and hard work. Parking his van next to a beat up little car that he didn’t recognize, he headed up the stairs to his second floor apartment. He wanted nothing more than a shower, a beer, and a quiet evening alone at home. Dropping his keys and phone on the kitchen counter, he opened the fridge and grabbed a can. Popping the top of his beer, he made his way back to the bedroom at the end of the hall.

Eddie kicked off his shoes in the direction of his closet, shed his grimy, greasy work clothes, and headed to the bathroom. Turning on the shower, he lets the water get hot and then steps into the tub, taking his drink with him. Standing directly under the stream, as the water runs through his long brown curls, he hummed to himself, then started singing:

I was the light / I was the quiet heart / I was the place we used to dwell. / And when the cold would tear your life apart, / I was the warmth that you had felt

He loved the acoustics of singing metal in the shower, as the hot water washed away everything from the day. Just filling the small bathroom with the sound of music, drinking his beer, and relaxing.

Suddenly a strong, sweet, emotional female voice, coming from the apartment directly next to his, is belting out the next words of the song…

I was the blood inside your broken heart / I was the stone that you had held

Thud! Startled, Eddie drops his can of beer, curses, and picks up his drink. Then he shuts off the shower and stands there in stunned silence. Thinking he was hearing things, he waits until you continue the song…

What have I become? /Thoughts like shadows swelling through my mind. / What have I become? / Something else inside… / It’s driving nails into my soul / Angels from my door. / Driving nails into my soul / Something else inside...

He starts singing again, joining in with your lovely voice. He grins to himself as the two of you sing together.

It’s driving nails into my soul / Angels from my door. Driving nails into my soul / Something inside…

He hadn’t realized that anyone had actually moved in next door, much less a fellow metal lover. A girl who shares his taste in music is definitely not what he was expecting. He is convinced he has to meet her. As soon as possible. But he doesn’t want the song to end. How to even introduce himself? He wraps himself in his towel and steps out of the tub.

I close my eyes / Search for you / Retracing every step

Excitement rushes through him as the song comes to its final chorus. Grinning at his blurry reflection in the foggy mirror, he decides that this is so much better than a quiet evening. He grabs a smaller towel and squeezes the water out of his curly hair.

It’s driving nails into my soul / Angels from my door. Driving nails into my soul / Something inside…

There’s something about sharing a song with someone else. He can’t even explain it aloud, it’s something he feels inside. Closing his eyes, listening to you. Plus it definitely doesn’t hurt that your voice reminds him of the stars above. And he’d give just about anything to hear it again.

Nails into my soul / Angels from my door. Driving nails into my soul / Something else inside… It’s driving nails into my soul / Angels from my door. Driving nails into my soul / Something inside.

He simply can’t wait to meet you, his new neighbor, who has the voice of an angel.

Eddie Munson Taglist:

@sweetpeapod

@saramelaniemoon

@eponaartemisa

@onehotgreasymechanic

@apolixyan

(Chapter 2 is out now! Read it at the link below!)

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things au #modern au #neighbor au #apartment au #mechanic!eddie #eddie munson x fem!reader #series #lyrics #stranger things fanfiction #kat writes stuff

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rengadyke · 2 years

Text

Posting more of my phantom of the opera au because I feel like it

I’m picking and choosing which parts of each of the adaptations I want to use, so we’ve got “prologue is an auction taking place many years later” from the musical and “some guy wants to write a book about it” from the original novel

Content warning for mentions of the Battle of Okinawa--for anyone who doesn’t know, it was bloody and brutal and a lot of civilians died

If anything is unclear or doesn’t make sense, please let me know! It would be nice to get some feedback before posting this on AO3

Enjoy!

---

Naha, Okinawa - 1945

The old, run-down building that once housed the Paradise Theater has not been special in decades. Now it is one of the ten percent of buildings left standing on the island of Okinawa.

Just a few months earlier, it sheltered two old men and their neighbors during the battle. The old men had once worked at the theater, and decades later their hobbling legs still remembered the way through the labyrinth under the stage. There they waited, terrified and hungry, but safe from the Americans’ bombs and the Japanese army’s demands to die honorably rather than surrender. When a nice young man explained that they were not going to be tortured and killed by American soldiers, the old men and their neighbors emerged from their shelter, amazed to find that the building was still standing.

The Americans quickly took over the theater after the fighting was done, using it as a hospital—or perhaps a brothel. Or both. Now they are holding an auction to distribute the treasures found in its vaults. The attendees are mostly American servicemen. Some foreigners are dressed in civilian clothes—collectors or reporters, perhaps.

No one pays any attention to the two old men sitting far behind the crowd. Surely none of them know that they were once the managers of the Paradise Theater.

“Can you believe it’s been 50 years, Kaoru?” the larger of them says in a very old-sounding voice.

“I still don’t know why you insisted on coming here,” the other grumbles. He has the air of someone who’s been an old man his entire life. His long hair and formal kimono would have been out of fashion even in his youth.

“You don’t feel sentimental about any of this?”

Kaoru grunts. “Why should I? It’s rotten luck that this place was spared while the temples were reduced to rubble. I suppose you’re feeling sentimental, Kojiro?”

Kojiro doesn’t respond, as a mask being taken from a box and shown to the audience catches his eye. “Kaoru, look!”

“Look at what?”

“Isn’t that the mask Miya wore? When he thought he’d been turned into a demon?”

“That one got broken, remember? We had to cut it up to get it off of his face.”

“It’s got a crack! Look! I swear it’s the same one.”

Kaoru adjusts his glasses and squints. “It seems your eyesight’s gone the same way as your hair.”

“Hey now, I’d be able to see as well as you if I wore your stupid glasses!”

“It’s better that you can’t see, really. If you could see yourself in the mirror, you’d probably break it...wrinkled cabbage.”

“You’re just as old as I am, puckered goya!”

“Sold!” calls the auctioneer. Neither Kaoru nor Kojiro knows much English, but they can mostly follow what’s happening. They watch as the mask that may or may not have been Miya’s is sold off to a young blonde man in a U.S. Army uniform.

“What do you think he’s going to do with it?” Kojiro asks.

“Hang it in his house, most likely. Maybe give it to a museum someday.”

“Why couldn’t we have put it in a museum?”

“There are a thousand masks just like it all over the country.”

Kojiro sighs. Maybe there are a thousand hannya masks in Japan. This probably wasn’t even Miya’s mask. Never again will it be part of a show. Now it can have a new life. As…a decoration.

Another item goes on display: an onnagata’s wig. Kojiro doesn’t bother asking if it might have been Miya’s, or Langa’s or even Kaoru’s from his days on the stage. It doesn’t really matter anymore. No one is left to miss the Paradise Theater, with the exception of two rather old men, sitting on a makeshift bench of rubble and watching their memories being sold off piece by piece.

“Do you think there will be anything of his?” Kaoru asks.

Kojiro could snap back with something about his poor eyesight, but he decides not to. Not with something like this.

“If there is, would you like to bid on it?” Kojiro offers.

“We don’t have any money.”

“We’ll borrow some money.”

“From whom?”

“One of those nice American gents!”

“And what would we pay them back with?”

Kojiro thinks. “How about a story? ‘Have you heard the tale of kabuki no kami? A ghost story certain to chill you to the bone—’”

“It’s not a ghost story,” Kaoru says softly.

“What kind of story is it, then?” Kojiro asks.

Kaoru’s gaze is trained in front of him, perhaps watching the drama play out again in his mind. “I think it’s a tragedy.”

Kojiro hums. “I don’t think so,” he says. “Not for everyone, at least. Not for us.” He gives his companion a wrinkled smile.

Kaoru nods stoically and stares ahead. The wig that might have been Miya’s, or Langa’s, or Kaoru’s is sold to a man in a suit.

They sit in silence until the last of the Paradise Theater’s treasures have been sold off. Then they pull themselves to their feet and set out for the long walk home.

To the surprise of both men, the young American who bought the broken hannya mask approaches them, a grating eagerness in his bright blue eyes. Another man who looks to be Japanese follows him. “Excuse me, sirs—”

“Sorry, no English,” Kaoru says, turning away. His statement might be more accurately interpreted to mean, “Sorry, I have no interest in conversing with English speakers” than, “Sorry, I have no knowledge of English”—though both are true.

The American says something in English to the Japanese man, who turns to the old men and bows. “Our apologies," says the Japanese man. “Only, my friend thought he heard you mention kabuki no kami.”

“How typically American of him to listen in on our conversation,” Kaoru says to his friend in Okinawan.

Kojiro ignores him. “How do you know about kabuki no kami?” he asks in Japanese.

The American speaks excitedly to his companion, glancing at the old men every so often, before gesturing for him to translate. “He was studying anthropology before the war,” the translator explains. “While he was stationed out here, he heard all sorts of local legends, including kabuki no kami.”

Kaoru and Kojiro exchange looks.

The American continues talking and gesturing excitedly, and the Japanese man translates. “He knows all about the fire, and the half-French onnagata who was kidnapped, and the mysterious deaths of—”

“Those tragedies all happened, yes,” Kaoru snaps. “But nothing about them should be of any interest to foreigners. You should leave the past in the past where it belongs.”

The translator hesitates, glancing uncertainly at the American. “Pardon my rudeness, but he says if you really believed that…you wouldn’t be here.”

“This little brat…” Kaoru mutters in Okinawan.

“If you want to learn about the history of the theater, I’m sure there are records you can find,” Kojiro suggests.

Again, the translator hesitates. “Many of those were destroyed during the war.”

“My condolences for your loss,” Kaoru says coldly.

The American doesn’t seem to pick up on his tone, nor does the man bother translating. The American continues: “That’s why I wanted to find someone who was there and talk to them. To save these stories before they’re lost.”

“This island has plenty of legends that are in danger of being lost,” Kojiro says. “Why are you so interested in this one?”

“Because it’s fascinating! Don’t you agree?” The translator makes a halfhearted attempt at conveying the American’s glee.

“That’s not the word I would use,” Kojiro says sadly.

“And the mystery!” the translator continues, ignoring the old man as he struggles to keep up with the American’s frenzied speech. “We don’t know where the kami really came from or who he was, or what happened to the onnagata—”

Kaoru clenches his fists. “Langa. His name was Langa.”

The American says something eagerly. Apparently he understands some Japanese.

Kojiro cuts off the Japanese man before he can translate. “My apologies, it’s not something we want to talk about,” He turns away, shielding his friend with his body as he often has before.

This time the American speaks in broken Japanese. “But sirs, don’t you think the world should know—”

Kaoru turns around, pushing past Kojiro. “The world needs to know how to mind its own business!” he snaps. “If you aren’t going to leave our island, at least leave the two of us in peace. Do you understand? Leave us alone,” he says in English.

“Let’s go home, Kaoru,” Kojiro says in Okinawan. Kaoru already feels a little more fragile in his arms. At their age, strong emotions drain them more than they used to.

They leave the disappointed American and his companion behind and begin their long walk home. Neither of them mentions kabuki no kami or the Paradise Theater for the rest of the day.

---

*synth organ plays*

phantom au masterpost

#sk8 fanfic #phantom of the opera au #kabuki no kami #sk8 joe #sk8 cherry #nanjo kojiro #sakurayashiki kaoru #matchablossom #if you squint #poor miya again he is straight up not having a good time in this fic

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pyro-doll · 3 years

Text

You tend to his Wounds - Diluc x Gn!Medic!Reader ~

Summary: Bulleted headcannons + fic. Diluc gets into an accident during his nightly duties. Luckily his s/o is a lovely medic and you help him by taking care of his wounds.

Characters: Diluc

Content / Warnings: Fluff/comfort, cuddles, mention of injury

Reader pronouns: gender neutral/not mentioned

A/N: I AM SO SORRY FOR THE ABSENCE. I just got back from over a week at camp so I couldn't write and I,, I SWEAR I had scheduled this to upload while I was there but I didn't oh noo. Also modern au movie night w albedo and Childe brainrot,, coming soon probably

(fic below the cut!)

°•DILUC•°

Somehow would still manage to be more concerned for you than himself, no matter how badly injured he was. He wouldn't ask for much while in your care, and insist he was fine despite definitely not being ok.

He would not stay in bed. He would try to work like usual and you would have to half drag, half carry him back to his room so he could rest again.

Low key embarassed about letting you see him so weak and vulnerable and always buries his head against you when your either fixing his bandages, or bringing him something he may need. (I'm pushing my shyluc agenda 😩)

Diluc does not make tending to his wounds an easy task. First, he would try to take whatever gauze and sanitization supplies from you, declaring he could do it himself.

He definitely cannot, and you would have to argue a bit before he let you do it, and then would absolutely make it the most difficult for you.

Not on purpose of course. When you first start tending to him he's very stiff and apprehensive, not wanting you to see him in such a state, and also not entirely jazzed about the physical aspect of it.

Not that he doesn't like your touch, he's definitely touch starved, but he has no idea how to recieve it.

After a while he loosens up. You're just so gently healing his injuries and he hasn't really let somebody close like that in so long that he just melts and holds you close whenever you're finished.

He is still a big baby about it though. He just wants something to be grumpy about, because he's anxious about work and protecting mondstadt which he can't do like this, so when you're doing on him he looks kind of silly because he's trying really hard not to smile.

You do anything do anything for him, like bring him lunch, put his hair up, take care of work matters and he spends 5 minutes trying to thank you and somehow pay you back.

"Diluc...?" You said softly, gently pushing the door to his room open and stepping inside. You boyfriend groaned, laying sprawled out on his bed, face in his pillows.

The night before he has gotten into a spot of trouble during his usual vigilante escapades, landing with a large injury to his chest and shoulder, as well as a plethora of cuts and bruises all over. You walked into the room, setting the first aid supplies on the small bed stand and sat down next to him. You had originally come over because Diluc had not so smartly declined the maids offers for first aid, and seeing as he issues their orders, there was not much they could do in retaliation themselves.

So now you were sat in his room, about to do your best to get him to accept the medical attention. He did not move, keeping his face pressed stubbornly into the bedding. "You just going to ignore me?" You joked.

Diluc gave no response, not looking up and you sighed. He was always the stubborn type. Your hand found its way to his hair, which was down and loosely spread around his head and you began running your hand through the fiery red locks. You felt him stiffen at first under your touch, before relaxing again, making a soft humming sound. He turned his face towards you, scarlet eyes peering through his bangs.

You smiled. "Ah, done sulking now are we?"

"I wasn't sulking." The red head huffed in response, voice slightly muffled by his pillow. You removed your fingers from his hair and gently rolled him over. He made no physical protest, but he scowled as he moved onto his back. He hadn't done much since the initial accident, trying to work had ended with him feeling worse and he had resorted to laying in bed, albeit grumpily.

"Sure you weren't. Now sit up." You commanded, and the man complied, wincing slightly as you helped get him situated. "Adelinde told me you've had little to no medical attention." You gave him a look and he averted his eyes, knowing how you got when it came to health and safety. Being a doctor was not a job for anyone who wouldn't go all out, and you were a stickler for first aid.

"I got it taken care of, there's no need to worry Y/n." He said and you shook your head disbelievingly. You cupped his cheek on your hand, with a worried expression.

"At least let me look, as a medic I'll feel better about it." You urged. This was just part of your field, and you knew that mistreating an injury could lead to serious complications.

"It wasn't so terrible, I'm sure it will heal fine."

You retaliated. "You still have several symptoms related to the elemental nature of the attack. Wh-"

"Alright!" He cut you off before you could recite more medical knowledge at him. Diluc sighed brushing your hand away. He contemplated for a moment before muttering a 'fine' slouching in surrender. He knew you wouldn't let it go so easily. You gently began undoing the buttons of his shirt, which only a few were done in the first place as you slid it off his shoulders, revealing the injury.

You eyed the bandages wrapped clumsily around his wound, presumably done by himself. Being a healer yourself, you cringed a bit at the amateur handiwork. "You really should learn how to wrap your wounds properly. Hm."

The man gave you a reproachful look, not replying. You made to unwrap them, but stopped before removing them. "May I...?" You asked and Diluc nodded, letting you gently unwind the gauze from his chest. You were lucky he had a soft spot for you, and actually let you continue with this. He wasn't one to let others care for him.

Nonetheless, you could feel his muscles tense as you glided your hands across them, removing the gauze and setting it aside. You examined the wound closely. It stretched from the center of his chest to over his left shoulder, and was red and irritated. He flinched when it was suddenly exposed to the cool air. You couldn't help but wince seeing him so badly injured. On top of that, he's mediocre care for it it had not done it much good.

"Don't look at me like that." Diluc said grumpily, eyes fixed on the floor. You couldn't help but notice how his shoulders slumped forward.

"Like what?" You asked.

He sighed. "Like I need to be looked after like some child. It's demeaning."

You sighed, used to his stubborn attitude. "That, is a look of concern, Diluc." You crossed your arms watching his jaw clench.

"It's hardly worth worrying about-" he started, but you cut him off.

"I disagree. Not only are there just about 100 things wrong with how you treated it, but I am not to keen on seeing my boyfriend hurt." Your tone was exasperated, but a look of soft worry was etched on your face. The boyfriend in question grumbled a bit, but ultimately let you have your way, and you reached for the supplies you had left on the table.

You dampened a gauze pad with a bit of soapy water, deciding the best way to clean the wound was to simply wipe away any dirt there. You didn't want to irritate the skin there with anything like rubbing alcohol. You gingerly began to wipe away at the cut, and Diluc inhaled sharply. You paused. "Will you be okay?"

He nodded. "I'm fine." He said with a slightly strained voice.

"Alright. I know it stings but I'll be quick." You never liked to take unnecessary time with your patients and continued with the effeciency of a practiced medic. The tension in the man's muscles worried you still, but you continued cleaning. Luckily, it was not bleeding much anymore and you were able to get through it with little complication. You set down the the gauze.

"See all done. That wasn't so bad was it?" You smiled, reaching for the bandages. Diluc let out a noise of acknowledgment, firmly holding his frown. You surveyed the area of injury again, nodding to yourself as you decided the best way to wrap it.

You went to start the bandaging from under his arm, but when you went to lift it out of the way, you found him resisting barely giving you any space. "Could you lift your arm for me sweetheart?" You said softly.

Diluc looked at you a bit stunned. Sweetheart? You barely called him by anything besides his name but Sweetheart?! He was rather at a loss for words, but something about the way you had thrown it out so nonchalantly made his heart flutter a bit, and he relaxed his arm, letting you slide the fabric underneath it.

You began to adjust the wrap around his torso, looping it around and then over his shoulder. He couldn't help but admire how thoughtful and precise you were as you cared for his wounds. You never did anything without explaining beforehand, you wouldn't continue right away if he protested, and you were so attentive as you did it. Everytime Diluc winced or tense you would pause, either giving one of his hands a squeeze or leaning to to kiss his cheek or the top of his head, making sure you weren't hurting him. Each time he would feel his cheeks get warm and his ears would turn red.

You barely noticed, in your element as you tended to him. You completed the bandages, securing them in place as you leaned back to admire your handiwork. "Alright that should do it." You ruffled Diluc's fiery hair, and he made a small "Hmph" noise as you did so. "Does that feel comfortable enough? I'm sorry it won't be entirely so, but I ne- Oh."

Your eyes met his, which were unfocused, gazing at you rather softly. As soon as he noticed you looking at him he blinked his face turning slightly pink. He cleared his throat and you tried and failed to stifle a laugh at his embarrassment. "Awe~ what was that look for, Diluc?" You teased. You sat on the bed next to him.

"Sorry." His voice was a bit strained and the tips of his ears burned as red as his hair, obviously embarrassed to be caught staring. He didn't want to make you uncomfortable but you had been so gentle and caring with him he couldn't help but soften. "I didn't mean to stare. It's just-"

He cut himself off, and you smiled slightly amused. It was rare to catch Diluc like this and you did not want to ruin the moment. "Just..?" You pushed, a ghost of a laugh still present in your voice.

He sighed rather exaggerating his irritation and crossed his arms. He wasn't quite sure what he was going to say himself. "You... Well you've never called me Sweetheart before." He said awkwardly.

You clapped a hand to your mouth in sudden surprise. Had you called him that? Truth be told, you hadn't even notice the nickname that in the moment had passed through your lips without a thought to it. When you were tending to injured children at work who were nervous or resisting the whole idea of a visit to the doctor, you often called them sweetheart in an attempt to put them at ease. You laughed outright this time, mind running over the admittedly childlike stubbornness your boyfriend had resisted your care with. Something about his grumpiness must have promoted the use of the pet name.

"D-did I now?" You said through a giggle. Diluc looked at you absolutely lost at your sudden outburst of laughter.

He gave you a look of both concern and confusion. "What's so funny?" He asked flatly. You waved a hand in dismissal hoping he didn't think you were laughing at him. In a sense you were but you had no malicious intent.

"Nothing nothing!" You assured. "I didn't even notice! That's uh- that's what I call the kids I see at work." You explained to Diluc, a touch embarrassed about the whole thing. "It makes them less anxious."

Diluc's face was somewhere sheepish as he put together what you were saying, nodding slowly. You watched his shoulders slump as you yourself started to piece together why he had mentioned it in the first place. You grinned preparing to tease him. "Oh are you disappointed that you didn't get a special nickname?"

Diluc froze turning to face you suddenly. "No-" his cheeks were dusted pink.

You brought your hands up to his face gently holding it as you placed a soft kiss on his lips. "Why didn't you just say so sweetheart? I don't mind." Your playful smirk was in direct contrast to Diluc's blank and flustered expression. He felt his stomach flip as you pulled away from the kiss, he wrapped his arms around you pulling you towards him. His head rested in the crook of your neck, and you rested a hand in his hair.

The man mumbled something about how annoying you were into your shoulder and you chuckled. "Sorry, I couldn't help myself." You ran your hands through his hair and he exhaled sharply in disbelief. You made to pull away from the hug, planning to return the first aid supplies to their places, but found Diluc's strong arms holding you in place.

You rested your hands on his arms gently pulling at then, but not wanting to hurt him anymore. "Diluc... I have a couple things I need to do, and you should get some rest anyways. You're not perfectly healed yet." You said softly.

He hummed turning his face up to yours. "Can't you stay a little longer, Y/n?" His face was still blushed and you felt yourself melt at has request. You met his eyes and sighed, agreeing. You told him it couldn't be for too long and you settled back down, leaning into the pillows now.

"Thank you." Diluc held you close as though unwilling to let go. He was not very publicly affectionate but he treasured the moments he could spend close to you, especially with both of your jobs taking up lots of time. "I'll repay you for taking the time to see me."

"Its not a big deal. It's my job, and you were hurt don't mention it." You said, pushing off his offer.

"We can get dinner sometime." He said matter-of-factly, ignoring your protest.

"Sure. Just not until your better." You sighed. Any attempts to assure him you didn't need to be repaid would surely be shot down. Diluc Ragnivindr was a man of his word, and if he saw fit he would find a way to repay you eventually. He nodded pulling you closer to him.

You told yourself it wouldn't be long, but soon enough Diluc, worn out as he was, had dozed off cradling you to his chest and you found you didn't have the heart to wake him. You knew he was a light sleeper and any attempt to leave would interrupt the rest you knew he needed. So instead, you caved in letting his gentle heartbeat put you to rest, sleeping in your lover's warm embrace.

Authors notes!

I am a diluc simp there's no hiding it. I still don't have him,, I have talent materials a 5* weapon and ascension materials all ready for him </3 come home bb.

My friends clown me so hard for him being my favorite LMAO 😭😭 it's ok tho I clown them back for being kazuha simps.

#genshin #genshin x reader #diluc x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact headcannons #genshin impact x reader #diluc #diluc x you #genshin x you #binnie writes!

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nymphigeon · 3 years

Text

From me, to you || 07

♤ Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

♤ Genre: fluff, angst, romance, hybrid au, hybrid!Taehyung, detective!reader

♤ Words: 2.5k

♤ Rating: PG-13

♤ Warnings (for this chapter): Mentions of hybrid abuse, swearing.

♤ A/N: Surprise! I'm really sorry it took me this long, but I finally found the time and drive to write again :) Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Synopsis: A story in which he has never known love, so you’ll give it to him.

Series masterlist

06 07

"What do you mean this hybrid doesn't exist?"

Her eyes are wavering with an unspoken fear, perhaps caused by the bitterness my questions holds. I'm not happy, and she knows.

“It’s just, the chance that a dangerous breed such as the tiger hybrid would escape our system is basically zero..” The gaze she held on the computer screen unsurely moves my way. My expression must've instilled another layer of anxiety to the already existing one, as her mouth abruptly stops moving and her pupils dilate.

“Go on, explain.” The tone of my voice softens a bit as I notice her visible discomfort worsening. Even if there is no way that I’ll get any information from this place regarding Taehyung and his owner, I would still like to know why they’re both not showing up here.

Eun-ji takes a few deep breaths to stabilize her voice. As she does her posture slowly relaxes just a little and her eyes lose some of the nervousness they held before. “Because the first ‘successful’ tiger hybrid ran rampant after killing their creator, anyone who still breeds or creates them is being watched very closely by us, as well as by some other institutions.”

Perhaps it’s my lack of reaction that causes her to trail off at the end. Though I’m not judging her or her story, unlike she may think. To encourage her to continue, I give her a nod, tilting my head to show interest.

“The regular citizen isn’t even allowed to have one, needing special training to handle them. It’s like that for most hybrids that find their origins in wild animals. Creating tiger hybrids obviously requires a lot of knowledge when it comes to playing with genes and breeding them…. Well there are only three organization that are authorized to do so. All the resulting hybrids are registered and chipped.”

The explanation, which turns out to be a lengthy one, gets broken by a shuddering breath leaving her lips. She composes herself, clinging on to the little confidence she has left in her line of work to speak about the rest of her clarification.

“Of course people have tried to do it themselves, but those d.i.y operations have always ended in disappointment. If not taken proper care of, with substances only a board certified hybrid doctor can provide you, the pregnancy will fail. These are no easy practices they are dealing with.”

After the girls’ last words I give myself some time to think, letting a silence full of tension fill the room. It must be obvious that my mind is somewhere else at the moment, as the other girl in the room does her best to stay quiet. I don’t need much time however, my thoughts having quickly rearranged themselves as they were trained to do.

“So what you’re saying is, since tiger hybrids are hard to ‘create’, if you will, there are only a few people who actually manage to bring them to life. And so those few people are kept under close watch, as are the hybrids they successfully wake, am I correct?”

Eun-ji nods affirmatively, clearly happy that I seem to understand the situation. “So there is absolutely no way that someone without authorization has had a decent attempt at either genetically merging a human together with a tiger or getting a tiger hybrid pregnancy to be successful?”

Perhaps there might be a bit of scepticism in the question I asked, as her attitude immediately changes into a defensive one. “There is not! Whatever hybrid you’re searching for either gave you a false identity or is not a tiger hybrid at all, which would seem rather unlikely. I told you they get chipped right? Why not go look into that.”

“He doesn’t have one. We already had a hospital take a look at him, they didn’t find anything. ” The statement seems to shock her, the gears in her head instantly turning as to find an answer to this riddle. She however can’t seem to get one.

“They can be removed, can they not? They’re just under the skin. If someone decided to just cut it out they could. Terrifying, but plausible. Either that or one of your faithful authorized employees has been leaking information to outsiders.”

This is where Eun-ji seems to give up. Her shoulders sagging and a heavy sigh leaving her lips. “There would still be the problem of the missing equipment, test subjects, practice… How would you even get hold of fertilized human eggs to play around with? But I guess that wouldn’t be totally impossible. As for cutting it out… There would be a noticeable scar. The implants are always put in the same place, it wouldn’t be hard to miss.”

I make a mental note stating to ask Taehyung about all of this when I get back. If anyone knows how he got onto this world it would be him. “Is there a possibility that you could have someone look into it?” The girl nods in defeat, paying more attention to the ground than to anything else. “I’ll see if I can get someone on the case. I’ll have them contact you if we know anything.”

After those words she turns around in her chair, facing the monitor that had already put itself into sleep, and turns it off. Taking a notepad out of the drawer to her left, she quickly writes something down with the pen from her breast pocket. “I’ll get on it right away. Would you like me to walk you back to the exit?”

I shake my head. “No It’s okay, I’ll find my way back. Thank you for cooperating.” Eun-ji gives me a small smile, followed by a bow and walks out of the room taking the note with her, presumably immediately keeping herself busy with the extra work. Not wanting to waste any time I copy her, walking myself back into the direction we came from. Turns out it proves quite easy to find the exit by myself.

It’s already far past dinnertime when I make it back to the office. Not many of my colleagues have remained in their seats, most of them opting for a nice meal with their families. The few that have stayed behind are mostly known to live alone, quite like myself.

I quietly knock on my supervisor’s door, but when no response emerges from within the room, I can safely deduce that she too has already returned home. “I’ll have to write her a report about today later..” I mutter to myself, before stepping away from the door and instead heading to the cells at the back.

Technically the arrest period had already ended for Taehyung, as the law wouldn’t allow us to keep him locked up for any longer without any charges being held against him. His cell however technically was never locked and so even now, he is free to go wherever he wants. Though it didn’t change the fact that he still has no place to go to.

“Good evening. Had anything to eat yet?” He just chose to stay here and we accepted it. “Oh, hello! Yes, that tall handsome bulky man gave me something earlier, I can’t remember his name. He said something about it ‘being the best shit in town’.”

I slightly giggle at his quote, knowing immediately who it belongs to. “That definitely sounds like something Namjoon would say. What did he give you?”

Taehyung looks a lot better than he did yesterday. The stress of the interrogation seems to have completely worn off, instead traded for the sweet bouncy personality he used to show around me.

“Umm it was something in the shape of a circle and it had meat all over it… Oh! I think he called it a pizza? It was delicious!”

“You’ve never had pizza before?” The words leave my mouth before I actually get the chance to process them, causing me to instantly regret ever even opening my mouth. These days are stressful enough for him as they are, he doesn’t need a painful reminder of the life he never got to live on top of that.

The question doesn’t seem to hit him as hard as I though it would though. In fact, his demeanour doesn’t seem to change at all. Although sadly, it doesn’t make his next words any less painful. “Nope! When I first got adopted all they would feed me was wet cat food. It wasn’t great, but at least I got my three meals a day. The foster family I stayed at after my first owners mysteriously disappeared didn’t actually have the money to even take proper care of themselves, so at that time all I would get was whatever was left of their dinner that day, if there was even any left. It was mostly just greens. The lack of meat made me real sick at the time.”

He pauses talking for a second to look up at my face through the metal bars. The content look on his face quickly changes to one of worry once he catches my eyes. It’s no mystery why, I know I look at him pitifully. Even if he may not wish for my concern, I am only human. I can perfectly hide it when I need to, but this is not one of those cases.

“There it is again, that sad look on your face…” He sits up straight on the side of his bed to fully observe me, a tilt of his head giving him away. I send a sad chuckle his way as I reach for the door of his enclosure, inviting myself into the small space with him. He doesn’t object.

“Is it that obvious?” It was meant more as a way to lighten the mood, not as an actual question that needs answering. He still does however, giving me a simple slow nod. “You don’t need to feel bad for me.”

“Someone has to. You deserve at least that much.”

There’s a chair neatly placed under a small desk in the room. It used to be quite lively, with all kinds of bright colours blending into each other. It was a little positive additive into the dark grey room, but after all the anger that has been acted out on it, it no longer has that same shine.

I pull the chair out to place myself upon it, straddling the seat while I rest my arms on top of the back rest. Facing the tiger I use my arms as a pillow to lean my head on, making myself comfortable on the creaking furniture.

“Say, Taehyung, do you remember anything from when and where you were formed?”

He seems slightly taken aback at first, though quickly regains his composure. He also doesn’t immediately answer, first taking some time to think before coming back to me. “I was born a hybrid to two purebred tiger hybrids. They did their best trying to care for me in the little time we got to spend together, but seeing as it happened on a breeding farm getting to spend time with my parents wasn’t the plan. I got sold off pretty quickly, as soon as I learned to hold my first few full conversations.”

“Do you… Would you happen to know what happened to the farm? To your parents?” I fail to hide my apprehensiveness, needing too much space to form a careful approach. This shouldn’t feel like an interrogation to him, I never even announced one. There is little reason for him to answer me, the vital information from his side has already been given anyway. Nonetheless, even though I probably shouldn’t be doing this right now, I can’t just miss this opportunity.

“I heard my adoptive family talking about how the place was burnt down a while later. Most likely the police had caught a hold of it and they had to delete their left behind evidence. Both building and hybrids.”

Despite talking about the death of his parents, he seems to tell the story with relative ease. Probably not having much connection with the far past, his brain too young to truly hold on to the memory of them.

“They were successful too, as the case got dropped faster than lightning. It wasn’t long before the general public forgot about it too, believing it was just another misunderstanding. Besides, hybrid lives weren’t as important anyway.”

The amount of rights hybrids had when they were first created back in the day were close to zero, only strictly being seen as objects to show off whatever possible wealth one may have had. For a while there was even a popular theory going around that hybrids didn’t actually have the ability to feel any kind of emotion or pain. The genetic puzzle wouldn’t allow for it, as it had been tampered with to an extreme extent. This only built on the carelessness shown towards them, slowly chipping away at their sanity.

Although the rumours were wrong, they came from a place of truth. Facial expressions were rare for hybrids, as was the ability to speak. Most of them couldn’t even keep up with regular humans, exhaustion quickly taking over the little anger they could show. Scientists hadn’t yet quite figured out how to perfectly combine the pieces of genetic code and so hybrids were more like living dolls in the eyes of evil humans. Having no voice to object and barely any means to actually hurt anyone, it wasn’t much of a surprise the selfish nature in humans came to rise.

Luckily, or depending on how you look at it, sadly, these first generation hybrids were never able to reproduce. The doll like hybrid features eventually died out with the rise of the newly perfected pieces and the theory was debunked by a group of scientist who actually did care about the hybrids’ wellbeing. Those hybrids had lived through countless punishments, and every single one of them had hurt. A lot.

Right now hybrids in a lot of ways are superior to the rest of us. Having the combined senses of both animal and human alike, society has reluctantly given up on trying to contain them. They are still to be bought and owned, but no longer to be treated like dirt. The smartest of hybrids have even already gotten complete freedom to do as the please, no longer having to be bound to a human to roam freely. However, those unable to pass the close to impossible tests aren’t so lucky.

“I’m sorry about what happened.”

Taehyung gives me a reassuring wave of his hand, effectively trying to lighten the mood, along with a sad smile. It wouldn’t take a trained professional to know he still longs for his parent’s presence, even if he may do well hiding it.

“It’s okay, it wasn’t your fault.”

That doesn’t make the situation more okay, but I hold my remarks back. For now, that might just be for the best.

Taglist

@suhappysuho @intellectualxprincess @sana-b @littlewolfieposts @nellaphine @the8luvr @deathkat657 @elenaramos1 @namjoonies-dimple

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couchpotatoaniki · 3 years

Text

One Year ❣︎ One: Holidays Aren’t For Drama

Chapter Summary: San has finally found you after five years of searching, and he wants you for himself--though not knowing how to do it just yet. In the meantime, you’re having fun hanging out with a friend on the plane to Jeju.

Pairing: Mafia!San x Fem!Reader Genre: Mafia AU, fluff, angst, eventual smut, lotta crack and stupid shit ngl Chapter warnings: swearing, stalking Word count: 1.2k+ A 365 Days parody

Previous: Prologue For the rest of the series, click here

Speech in bold means they’re talking in Korean

Speech in italics is whatever the reader wants their native langue to be that’s not Korean or English

Speech without either means they’re talking in English

You were glad that you were sat next to Yunho on the plane since you needed good vibes that your boyfriend couldn’t really give you. Too sucked up in his own life, which make him the worst person to sit next to Yeosang.

Thankfully, Dominic was terrified of the boy so he was silently scrolling through his phone. That left Mingi to annoy poor Seonghwa the whole trip.

“Oh, you bitch,” Yunho mumbled, picking up four cards from the deck beside him. To pass the time, you and the tall boy decided to play a game of Uno.

Chuckling, you threw down a yellow 2. effectively ending the round. “You know, for someone of your profession, you’re really shit at cards.”

“Maybe because I’m playing against your devious ass.”

“You love my devious ass, don’t lie.” Scoffing, he gathered the cards and began to shuffle them before you ripped them from his hands. “Oh hell no. I know for a fact you’re gonna rig it.”

“I tried last time, and you still won,” he huffed, running a hand through his sandy blonde hair before using the other to take the deck again.

Yunho wasn’t really your friend to begin with. More so Mingi’s, but that had not stopped the two of you becoming just as close. Seonghwa and Yeosang too; you had meet them through the sweet-hearted boy, and all three had quickly become an addition to your short list of loved ones.

In fact, out of the six of you, Dominic was the odd one out.

He didn’t know the secrets you shared, the things you did without his knowledge. Nothing that would directly harm your relationship, no.

To add to that, the five of you were like a family, looking out for each other, and the boys weren’t very font of the guy you had chosen to date.

Then again, compared to the last one, Dominic was much better.

Every year, the boys and you had decided to treat this time as a holiday away from the all the work you do, to treat yourselves for living another year. So you all splurged out and did something big.

How you chose the destination was fairly simple; one of you would throw a dart at a map of the world--blindfolded, obviously--and wherever it landed, you all went there.

It’s what led to the fun cruise in the Pacific the previous trip, and this part of Korea for this current one.

Though, Jeju was one of the places on your bucket list. You were more than excited to go and sight-see. Already, you do plenty of that for your job but never really get the chance to stop and pay attention.

To relax with friends and have fun.

You were going to Jeju for leisure purposes.

San was going to Jeju for you.

Yes, he was originally going there for work, to deal with a bit of business that had gone awry. But then he saw you, quickly crossing the road, from his vehicle.

Decided to follow you, see where you were going and with whom.

At first, he was a little pissed to know that you were travelling with five men, you being the only woman. Most likely scenario, one of them was your boyfriend.

But that information had no longer mattered, because you were going to Jeju. On the same flight as him.

San didn’t like to admit in believing in fate, but if that wasn’t it, he didn’t know what would be.

Hongjoong--who was stood beside him in the middle of the airport by now--was concerned over his strange behaviour. Even the slightest shift that seemed out of the ordinary, he immediately became suspicious.

That’s why San knew it was stupid to try and lie to him.

When he pointed out to you, telling him to look, it only took the older boy a few seconds for him clock on. “You’re shitting me...”

“I’m not, Joong. She’s here. She’s really here.”

“San,” the now-blue-haired boy began, trying not to draw any unnecessary attention, “look at me. You can’t. It was five years ago, and not to mention, you’re already with--”

Shoving his hands off his shoulders, the mafia boss glared at his second-in-command. “You don’t even like Dae anyway!”

No, Hongjoong hated that crazy woman to his very core. She was bad for his friend, but the boy was too caught up in filling the hole you somehow managed to carve to even care.

Had it been any other, the short man would have let San do his thing, but his current girlfriend was one of the heirs to a rather big mafia herself. Being with her involved politics, and being with her for nearly five years brought more trouble than you were worth.

But Hongjoong knew that San wouldn’t listen to him. Not when he’s like this.

The only thing he could do now was damage control.

The two males--San mainly--had stalked the six of you, deducing who meant what to you. Didn’t like how cosy you were with either of them, but specifically disliked the guy who had his hand wrapped around your waist.

Then there was the other guy, one of the really tall ones, with black hair--streaks of green and grey running through it--and a loud voice. Party animal, the two thought. He was particularly close to you too, sending playful hits that were definitely reciprocated. Hopefully, he was just a friend...

The other tall guy--the blonde one, with puppy-like eyes--seemed more reserved yet somehow still as energetic.

Next tallest was s black-haired fella. Clean and lean--smart-looking, with soft (but somehow sharp) eyes.

Finally, the last guy. The one who rarely spoke, with a silvery grey mullet that surprisingly complimented his pale skin. There was something about him that Hongjoong couldn’t pin down. Something familiar...

The most obvious odd thing was how you and your supposed ‘boyfriend’ were of a different ethnicity to the other four. Confirmed when the two men overheard you speaking in a completely different language neither of them were used to.

“Fuckin’ language barrier,” San grunted as he realised there was yet another obstacle in his way.

“Fuckin’ good-lookin’ people,” Hongjoong laughed, scanning the six of you.

Being in business class was usually a comfortable experience, but right now was the most excruciating thing possible for both of them. San constantly bombarded the elder with questions and worries about you.

Couldn’t even send Hongjoong back there since his newly-dyed electric blue hair would have captured too much attention. “What’s the point of you if I can’t even get you to spy on people,” the younger huffed. “Dye your hair back to black when we get to the villa.”

“Oh, shut up,” Hongjoong spat with gritted teeth, already beyond annoyed with the man’s behaviour. “That’s not even my job. And you come at me with having unusual hair, but you look like Frankenstein’s Bride with that lock of white with the rest being black.”

Groaning, San looked at the entrance of the business area, hoping for some other miracle to occur and you would peer out. Desperation filled him, wanting to see you again. Etch your newer features into his mind once more.

“Who do you think those other guys were? Her boyfriend’s friends? Her friends? Colleagues?”

“Probably her friends, since they all seemed pretty close to her.”

“Ugh.” San buried his face in his hands, still not liking the sound of that.

“It’s the 21st century, dude. Girls can be friends with guys--and that girl is friends with those guys. Get used to it.”

“Don’t wanna,” San mumbled, puffing out his cheeks as Hongjoong narrowed his eyes at his tantrum.

“Listen, dude, you can’t confine and control her. Doing that’s only gonna push her away--if you’re actually serious in pursuing her.”

“Of course I’m serious!”

“Then you need to plan this out carefully. And you need to think of it fast, since I doubt they’ll be in Jeju for long."

The younger male scoffed, running his tongue against the inside of his cheek as his confidence grew and cogs in his brain began moving. “Don’t worry, I’ll definitely come up with something.”

Sighing, Hongjoong looked out of the window, into the peaceful, empty ocean they flew above. What exactly had he done?

☕︎ Tag list: @little-precious-baby , @sparklychangbin ,

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rein-ette · 3 years

Note

Are you still working on your Commonwealth study? Do you have any thoughts on Arthur's relationships with his colonies apart from Canzuk + US?

Not properly, unfortunately with exams and then work I haven’t had mental/emotional capacity to do real research (and probably won’t for a while 😔). But I have continued to think about and develop certain relationships, and I think I also have old hcs I’ve never shared, so I’ll put those down!

Born into the Empire

Australia

@oumaheroes has already done such great hcs on him idk what I can add, but basically he was a little bit of a rowdy child, always breaking windows and shattering fancy pots, never able to sit still. I think rainbow once mentioned that Ken (short for Kenneth, my name for Aus) was a lot like England as a child in his curiosity and energy, and I wholeheartedly agree. But I think Arthur’s intensity was more inwardly directed, pushing him to pursue and master new talents and learn whatever he could, while Australia is a little more carefree in his love for the outdoors, exploring, jumping around and off things, little wild animals. Unfortunately for him, he was born in a period of the empire when Arthur was very serious about his kids education, and therefore often praised those who studied hard and learned fast, which really just wasn’t Australia’s cup of tea. Australia took this kinda hard and thought he was the “dumb” one in the family that Arthur was always scolding, but in reality Arthur knew and appreciated that Australias interests lay elsewhere — he was just a frustrated, tired, parent who really wanted to give his kids the best while also holding his empire together, two goals that were never going to fit well in the end and would completely exhaust him.

As Australia’s grown older he’s realized a bit of this (not entirely, though) and also that 1) he really did break a lot expensive things and cause general mayhem 2) scolding us Arthur’s way of showing he cares, if he didn’t he wouldn’t have payed attention to him at all 3) despite being a penal colony, he was still one of Arthur’s more “legitimate” children (being white and a boy) and was therefore still incredibly privileged — never having to question, for example, why it was that Arthur was his dad, if it should be this way, or if he had a seat at the family table at all (more on this later).

New Zealand

Zee, from birth, was a clear favourite. Obedient, calm, quietly intelligent, he would also later develop a blistering sense of humour which combined with his appearance made it overwhelmingly clear who’s child he was. If Ken questioned his place in the family because of his poor academic record and others did because of their appearance/race/other complications, Kaelan never had such problems; his siblings called him the “prince.” Zee, however, also had a charm that, like Matthew, endeared him to his siblings and mostly protected him from jealousy, though he certainly still had issues with being called a try hard, daddy’s boy, bossy, arrogant. Certainly as a child Zee was a little prideful and, under that unperturbed demeanour, willful, but he grew out of it by the 20th century and became one of those most trusted by Arthur, second only to Matthew. He’s also always been inseparable from his brother Australia despite their differences, and today they both have one of the healthiest and most amicable relationships with Arthur of any nation, let alone former colonies (family road trips, every summer).

Bermuda

I absolute fell in love with this girl after reading about here, once, in this fic by @shachaai, and after that my mind just ran away with me. For me, her human name given to her by Arthur just has to be Ariel — for the little mermaid reference, yes, symbolizing her connection to the sea and stunning good looks, but also because:

1. Ariel is a biblical name, meaning lion of God. This makes sense to me, because Bermuda began as a Portuguese trade post, so Arthur definitely consulted our resident bad catholic Port before naming her.

2. Ariel used to be boys name. This also makes sense, because I hc Bermuda was and still is a tomboy. Bitch is fierce, takes no prisoners, and has zero filter. Her letters to Arthur, which all the colonies sent so Arthur could keep an eye on things, were full of shit like “I swear to god if the Spanish don’t get out of my waters I might eat one of them,” and “father, I asked you for destroyers two months ago, and yet you sent them to Hong Kong — could you explain this most unusual occurrence, surely it’s not that you forgot”, and “thank you for the harpoon on my birthday, I caught a small shark a couple days ago and have sent you some of its teeth for your collection.” Arthur tolerates this attitude because he’s weak when it comes to girls; he absolutely spoils his daughters (and flushes like a 16 year old when a woman so much as bats her eyelashes at him). Yes, p*ssywhipped Arthur is a hill I will die on.

3. It also suits her because? Ariel? Shakespeare? The Tempest? Bermuda Triangle? Shipwrecks? Daughter-like figure of powerful and vengeful sorcerer? Yeah. And this girl is a fire spirit — she is so lively, snarky, clever. As she’s grown older she’s mellowed out a little, but still: a no shit taken, no fucks given type of gal.

4. Speaking of growing up, she’s also become quite the beauty. Shacha, if I’m remembering correctly, described her as dark skinned, wavy-haired, and green eyed and that image has been burned onto the back of my eyelids ever since. Those Iberian genetics really be pulling through for her, that’s for sure. Engport love child if I’ve ever seen one. Definitely one of the prettiest in her family.

Singapore

I’ve already mentioned this to needcake, but I’m not too big a fan of canon Singapore, so this is my oc version. Singapore is fascinating to me because it had only a very small local population before it became a colony (The original settlement had actually been destroyed by the Portuguese about two centuries before the British started building a port there.) So nation-tans like Singapore and Bermuda really are Arthur’s children in the most direct sense of the word. And yet, Singapore is mostly ethnically Chinese, with Malays being the second largest group. Growing up Asian in a white, Victorian era family surely cannot have been easy and more than once Singapore probably wondered if there hadn’t been some mistake. To make up for the constant fear that he wasn’t “really” British, Singapore studied ferociously and had a truly terrifying work ethic. I’m not sure if this is common knowledge outside Asian circles, so I’ll mention that this hc comes from the fact Singapore is well known for having truly exceptional students and some of the most prestigious schools. Singaporeans score highly in literally everything and they have an advantage with good English learning environments, a highly desirable trait in Asia, but these results come from brutally long hours — and its really saying something that they’re known for working hard, considering the studying ethic of students in Korea, Japan, and China aint nothing to sneeze at, either. To me this actually fits really well with Singapore’s upbringing in Arthur’s household, because Arthur himself prizes intelligence and hard work above all else, being a workaholic himself.

As for their relationship, it was probably the best when Singapore was young and peaked in the 1930s with the massive naval base the British built at Singapore, at the time the largest dry dock in the world. Singapore was a well-behaved child, not necessarily introverted but not rowdy either, and all the way into his teenage years he truly admired Arthur and was proud to be a part of the British Empire, despite his lingering unease and insecurities. The British defeat in World War II, however, was a massive turning point. He had worked his ass off to be a good son, a good brother, to contribute to the only family and system he had ever known, and he had thought by the 30s he was finally on his way to becoming a fine adult. And suddenly, the British surrender brings his entire world crashing down. He had followed the rules faithfully thinking it was his destiny, but suddenly it was clear that all rules were made up. Of course, his insecurities exploded. If the empire was a ruse, what the hell was he? A part of the illusion? He couldn’t have a truly Asian identity, because many of the old East Asian nations shunned him for his Western upbringing, and he could not entirely understand their values either. So he was a kid who kinda had to figure out late and very very suddenly who the fuck he was and wanted to be.

And, well, he’s done pretty well for himself, hasn’t he. After having a total crisis and questioning everything, I think Singapore slowly started to realize that just because the British Empire as a political entity didn’t last forever, that didn’t mean that his entire childhood and identity weren’t real. The love he gave to his siblings and the love he got back, the hard work he put in, his bond with Arthur and the safe, happy childhood he had — those memories and feelings didnt have to be diminished by what came after. Essentially, he learned the lesson all nations have to learn, which is that one needs to be able to discern between duties as a nation and feelings as a human being, and to some extent keep them separate to protect both.

Whoooooo ok I’ll stop there because this turned into a dissertation, sorry. Let me know if there are any specifics u want me to elaborate on or anything I missed, but I’ll leave this here for today :)

#hws england #hws Australia #hws new zealand #oc: hws Bermuda #not gonna tag anymore I’m lazy #fun times with the commonwealth #I probably won’t write so much for all of them I just put it there to remind myself #needcake #ask #my hcs

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txtdiaries · 3 years

Text

Void - Chapter Three

SUMMARY | Amidst your world shattering to pieces, the boy you met long ago manages to fit everything back together again. Also - zombies. Lots and lots of zombies.

PAIRING | Yeonjun X Reader feat. TXT

CATEGORY | apocalypse au, end of the world, survival, angst, romance, enemies to lovers, slow burn, etc.

WORD COUNT | 3.3k

WARNINGS | dark content, swearing, gore, weapon possession, etc.

A/N | So this hasn’t been proofread, but I hope there aren’t too many mistakes and u guys enjoy it anyway. Thanku for reading! <3

SONG REC | Wires - The Neighbourhood

Preview / Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three

The sun is dipping behind the horizon, colors melting against sky as the car rolls along the freeway. The majority of the younger boys are asleep in the car, it is silent, and Yeonjun is stressed out.

Of course, who wouldn’t be? He almost lost his life to something that looked like it walked straight off the set of The Walking Dead. And Yeonjun has never forgotten his weapon - ever. It’s in that moment that he knows.

He has to get rid of the girl sitting in the passenger seat. Soon.

The silence is uncomfortable as he drives. Neither is speaking, and even though he isn’t looking at her, he knows she isn’t asleep.

After a few minutes of the silence ticking along with the minutes, Yeonjun feels like he is going to burst. And then, finally, she speaks.

“Listen… uh- Yanjun-”

“My name is Yeonjun.” The older boy sneers, accent thickening as he enunciates his Korean name, still annoyed. He realizes just how annoyed he always is with her.

“Right, sorry! Yeonjun.” He stays quiet, letting her go on.

“I’m really sorry for what happened back there. I may have overreacted a little bit.”

Yeonjun scoffs as she continues, “And I just want to thank you for saving my life. I really appreciate it.”

The girl sticks her hand out as if he’s not driving, and after he gives it a side glance, she retracks it.

“Maybe we can be friends, you know, work together?”

Yeonjun almost swerves off the freeway at 90 MPH.

“Here’s how this is gonna work...” He searches her eyes for a second, noticing how she sits up straighter. She replies quickly with a, “Y/N.”

“Okay, Y/N, this isn’t some fucked up stockholm syndrome situation. I didn’t tie you up and throw you in the back of my Jeep because I thought you were too precious to save, and I definitely didn’t do it because I wanted you with us. I did it because it was the only option, got it?”

The girl blinks at him.

“It was the only option, and at this point you’re just deadweight to us now, okay? We aren’t going to work together, and we sure as hell aren’t going to be friends.”

It’s silent for a lot longer this time, before Yeonjun hears the girl reply back in a whisper, “If I’m just deadweight to you, why did you save me?”

“Jun, where are we?” Soobin grumbles suddenly from the backseat, stirring a bit as he starts to wake up.

“Just about there, Soobin. Go back to sleep.” Yeonjun replies as he pulls off of I-86 and into what seems like the local college town of the area. He decides to ignore the girl’s question as he turns on the radio. Of course, it’s just the low sound of static, but it’s better than listening to her questions again.

The farther Yeonjun drives into the town, the more he starts to notice the tattered college flags hanging from the unlit street lamps, and all of the broken windows in every building they pass. As he drives with caution, Yeonjun can tell how eerily quiet it is, apart from the radio. He spots the girl looking out the window, and decides to do the same, allowing himself to survey their surroundings.

A few home style diners and restaurants dot the blocks they pass, along with small gas stations (probably empty), and a few fast food places as well. The road guides him to a gentle curve, and then he realizes that he’s going in the direction of an underpass. For some insane reason he doesn’t completely understand, the lights along the inside leading to the other side are on, and they guide him to something that is shocking for him to see. The underpass opens back up at the end in a way Yeonjun can only feel like exiting a time machine would be. The tunnel cuts off, barren and with the walking path fences on either side rusted and destroyed.

But that’s not the part Yeonjun is paying attention to.

The buildings are breathtaking. They are old stone, brick, and clearly had been worked on to keep their vintage roots. One of the buildings on the right has huge archway windows on the second floor, which the moon reflects off beautifully. The street lamps are winded with decorative mistletoe, but the ribbons attached are tattered and almost black. Yeonjun sees what used to be bars, restaurants, all different colors. Green, red, and a pretty maroon color. He’s almost sad to see all of this - to get a glimpse of the real world back in front of him.

The farther he drives, the worse it gets. The town is beautiful, and he can only imagine how beautiful it used to be in the world before.

“This is old town.” The girl says softly from the passenger seat as Yeonjun approaches a huge park, even more trees on display and decorative lamps. He almost thinks he sees a fountain before he looks back at the girl.

“What did you say?”

“Old town. Like, downtown. The original one for the city.”

“How…” Yeonjun is surprised the girl knows as his curiosity intensifies.

“I uh… I used to live here. I went to college here.” She clarifies, avoiding his gaze now.

The older boy is even more surprised than he was before. She looked old enough to be in college, but he didn’t even consider it. Someone else having a life before all of this, much like he did. He never considered it until now.

“Up ahead it’ll take you to the fairly decent houses, lots of cops and bankers used to live on this side of town, but the houses will be trashed most likely. The long road past that will take you up the mountain to the super rich houses on top. Those might have some food and supplies, but it’s more dangerous. The high school is to the right, but the college is back around the way we came. Up to you.” She nods, not speaking anymore. Yeonjun is surprised she’s even helping him, but he hadn’t thought that far ahead.

“Thank you.” He says awkwardly, turning back around the way they came. He figures the college is their best bet. More buildings to search for safety in, and all relatively close to the gas stations.

She says nothing as he makes his way back toward the college.

The drive to the campus is somehow more tense than before, and Yeonjun is grateful when they finally pull into the main parking lot, in front of a building labeled, Museum of Natural History.

“The SUB is up ahead.” The girl speaks flatly, and Yeonjun gives her a confused look.

“Student Union Building. They have an event center inside, super spacious, just incase.” She clarifies, looking at him again.

“Sorry, I just never went to college before this all happened…” He explains, finally parking the Jeep.

The parking lot extends to a walkway that goes under the second floor of the SUB, and Yeonjun finds himself parking there to keep the car hidden. It’s almost like the whole slab of the SUB’s second floor is covering the walkway for a few yards, and then connects to the neighboring Museum’s second floor too. Past the end of it all, he sees a grand cement staircase leading up to the side door of the building. It’s perfect.

He pushes the gearstick into park and finally cuts the engine, sitting silent for a few moments.

The smaller girl is still gazing out the windshield, eyes scanning along the huge quad slowly.

“Is it weird to be back here?” Yeonjun doesn’t know why he asks, but he can clearly see the girl is visibly upset as she has her hands bundled in fists.

Without answering, she unlatches her seatbelt, swings open the door, and steps into the cold. After her feet hit the ground and she slams the door closed, the rest of the boys in the back groggily come to.

“We’re here.” Yeonjun sighs, turning on the upper light and pocketing the keys, “Grab your stuff, we’re setting up camp for the night.”

And then he’s getting out of the car himself, slamming his door and heading for the trunk.

“Hyung look, there’s a giant tiger statue back there!” Kai says with excitement, motioning back through the door they just came in through.

“It’s a Bengal.” Y/N corrects the youngest boy before leading the group farther in the empty building. The inside is pitch black, but the moonlight allows Yeonjun to see their surroundings, just barely.

To their right there is a huge staircase leading to the lowest level of the building, and a long hallway filled with multiple tables and chairs, like a huge eating area. Next to the help desk in front of them, small restaurants are grouped side by side as the window parallel shines even more light on all of the walls. The girl drags them to the left, taking them toward the offices and hallway that lie ahead.

“Fuck.” She says when she finally sees the door. It is bolted shut, with wooden planks and furniture piled against it. There is no way they’re getting in.

“Plan B?” Yeonjun asks annoyingly, making the girl brush past him, feet stomping along the way.

“Shut the fuck up, will you?” She snaps as she drags them back past all the small food places, leading them toward a staircase near the side of the building. Yeonjun can’t help but make another snarky comment at her. Soobin laughs under his breath. The youngest boys look shocked.

“Doesn’t this place have elevators?”

She glares at him when he speaks again, and juts her chin to the elevator along the right wall as they walk into the stairwell, saying nothing as she climbs up the stairs.

The boys all follow her, saying nothing at their interaction.

“Hey, Y/N, do you know where we’re going now?” Soobin speaks up, his voice timid as he catches up to the angry girl.

“Yep. Clearly the elevators don’t work but the top floor is our safest bet. There are tons of big rooms where we’ll be safe in. Unless you guys wanna spend the night in the bowling alley or the movie theater.” She throws in the last options offhandedly, knowing both will just be annoying to settle down for the night.

The two youngests perk up at this though, all voicing their excitement.

“There’s really a bowling alley and a movie theater here? This place was so awesome.”

“It is awesome.” Y/N clarifies, swallowing thickly before she leads the rest of the boys up the remainder of the flights.

Once on the top floor, Yeonjun knows why the girl chose it for their spot. There are dozens of lined rooms down the hall on either of them, and huge windows that show the entire campus and more, the land extending for miles upon miles. He can even see the mountain just off campus, trees swaying in the wind.

“Here you go.” She says, finally shrugging off the backpack she was actually able to retrieve from the trunk, “Home sweet hallway.”

The largest room is to their right, which gives them a view of both doors on either side of the hallway. Yeonjun nods a bit before appointing the group to set up their own sleeping bags and spaces.

The three youngest always stick together, all chatting about whatever is on their mind as they set up their sleeping bags, and Yeonjun notices that Soobin is back to chatting with Y/N easily, saying something he can’t pick up as he starts laying out his sleeping bag as well.

It’s like that for a few minutes, all of the boys laying out their sleeping bags, whipping their blankets in the air to get it into shape before laying it on the thin material of their makeshift bed. Yeonjun honestly cannot wait to sleep. He’s so tired, he doesn’t even think much about the fact that they can’t eat dinner. He hopes they will be able to find some food tomorrow.

“Hey Jun?” Soobin asks, catching the attention of the older boy as he looks up toward him.

“Where is Y/N going to sleep?”

All eyes settle on the girl sitting criss-cross on the floor, shivering lightly with her coat draped over her shoulders. Soobin frowns at Yeonjun before motioning toward her obviously, and the older boy just sighs.

“It’s not my problem Soob-”

“She can sleep in my sleeping bag if she wants.” The younger boy offers, already looking back toward the girl again. Yeonjun feels his heart leap up into his throat. He has to try hard to not eagerly deny the fact that she very much cannot sleep with Soobin.

It’s not that Soobin is a bad guy - quite the opposite actually. And the last thing Yeonjun needs is to hear the girl giggling from Soobin’s goofy antics all night long. No, he will not have that.

“She’ll sleep with me.” Yeonjun says firmly, nodding before he kicks off his shoes and places them next to his flimsy little blanket layers on the ground.

“Not happening.” Y/N finally speaks up, glaring at Yeonjun, “I’d rather get mauled by a zombie.”

“Be my guest then, that is, if you don’t freeze first.”

Yeonjun grins sarcastically at the shivering girl, and even though she is wearing multiple layers, he knows she’lll still be freezing if she doesn’t contain enough heat to get her through the night.

“Jun.” Soobin tries to interject, but the blue-haired boy just glares at him.

“Not a debate, Soobin. Go to sleep.”

The tallest boy looks sadly at the girl, before turning on his back away from her. The rest of the boys do the same, leaving her shivering in silence.

Yeonjun doesn’t know what time it is when he feels movement from his side. His eyes snap open in fear quick enough, though, and he almost reaches for his bat next to him before a soft voice breaks through the darkness.

“Jesus, relax. It’s just me.”

The girl’s teeth are chattering as she crawls under the layers of blankets Yeonjun has above his body, and he doesn’t say anything as the side of her body is suddenly flush against his.

“Thought you’d rather be mauled to death.” He rasps, still half asleep as he nuzzles further into the blanket.

“Shut up, will you?” The girl responds, voice still low so she doesn’t wake the others.

It is quiet for a while, both of them just breathing together. Yeonjun doesn’t know if it’s awkward, but he’s too tired to care. After driving for so long, it starts to take its toll.

“Yeonjun?” The girl says softly, causing the older boy to glance over at her. She sighs before speaking again, “Who were you before all of this?”

The boy blinks at her, mind reeling before he stares up at the tiled ceiling again.

Does he want to do this? Does he really want to open up to the girl who he can’t help but fight with every single second?

He doesn’t have much of a choice as he opens his mouth, and his exhausted body starts speaking honestly.

“I lived in Korea.” He explains, but he doesn’t know why she cares enough to ask. He doesn’t know why he cares enough to explain. He wouldn’t have asked about her, but it’s clear she had other intentions.

“I worked for a company called Big Hit. It’s like a company that trains and creates Idols. Kind of like celebrity performers.”

The girl listens intently to his words, not speaking as he goes on.

“This was our first debut, coming to America. I always dreamed about coming back. I studied in California for a few years when I was younger, but it was always my dream to come back. You know you’ve made it when you make it in America.”

Yeonjun shifts to his side to get more comfortable, and suddenly realizes how close they actually are. He can feel the girl’s breath across his cheeks, and he has to keep himself from pulling away with anxiety.

“I- um… the rest of the boys were in a group with me. We were all idols. But when the virus hit, we got stranded here. Our managers died in a car accident, and we were lucky to make it out alive. We all just want to go back home.”

He doesn’t know why, but somehow he can’t stop. Maybe it’s the way she’s looking at him, listening, or because he hasn’t talked to anyone like this in a long time.

“I loved dancing. I trained as an Idol for years, but it was all worth it because I loved it. Before all of this, I studied really hard, and I enjoyed hip hop the most. It was my favorite to dance to. Just being able to move my body freely to the music, I loved every second of it.”

Yeonjun stops now, not really knowing what else to say. He feels embarrassed, a bit flustered, and he tries to take the attention off of him as he asks, “Who were you before all of this, Y/N?”

The girl is still, eyes glossed over as she bites her lip a bit. Yeonjun can see it’s hard for her to talk about it, but she still does. She still opens up to him, because he did to her.

“I was… I was a student. I worked my ass off at community college to come here, and I got scholarships and grants just to be able to live here on my own. I had a rough time in high school, but college was supposed to change everything for me. I was living alone, trying to make friends, and just attempting to start my life. I came from a small town, where people get trapped like poison. No one comes out of my hometown unless they’re willing to risk everything for it.”

Yeonjun can feel his heart beating steadily against his ribcage as the girl speaks, and he can’t help but feel understood by her. He takes a deep breath to stomp the feeling down.

“I remember I was so excited to finally start. I was studying marketing and creative writing. I loved writing so much, I was so excited to be able to do what I loved. It may not seem like much, this town, but it’s all I had. It was the only chance I had at becoming someone else - someone better.”

She looks over at Yeonjun suddenly, and is surprised when he nods for her to continue.

“I grew up in this state my whole life, and my only goal was to leave. All I ever wanted was to leave.”

The smaller girl can’t help but get choked up, taking a few deep breaths to calm herself down. Yeonjun easily slides the blanket farther over her shoulder, hoping the softness will comfort her a bit.

It takes a bit for her to finish, but once she does, Yeonjun knows she is exhausted.

“So that was it. I made it here, and then the virus stole it all from me. My education, my family. All the hope I had. Just… gone.” She says, eyes now closed as she lies next to him. He doesn’t know what to say, and he truly doesn’t think anything he can say will make her feel any better.

“You should rest.” He whispers to her, hand moving up before he realizes what he’s doing.

Before Yeonjun knows it, he’s wrapping his arm halfway across the girl, holding across her chest in a hug, his hand holding onto her right shoulder gently.

He slightly expects her to swear at him. He also expects her to punch him in the face.

She does neither.

Instead, her breathing evens out, and she falls asleep like that. With her body finally warm next to Yeonjun’s, and a single tear slipping down the side of her cheek.

Yeonjun allows himself to fall into a deep slumber soon after.

After all, tomorrow, they have to get a move on.

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blossom-hwa · 3 years

Text

fashion major!kevin

ANYWAY THERE WAS LIKE ONE PERSON WHO CALLED FOR A FASHION MAJOR KEVIN SPINOFF OF THE COLLEGE MODEL JUYEON AU I JUST POSTED (linked below) anyway! hope you enjoy, please reblog if you did, and check out my other dumb overly long blurbs in the stream of idiocy tag on my blog <3

pairing: kevin x gender neutral!reader

wc: 2.5k

genre: fluff, university!au

triggers: cursing

college model!juyeon

TBZ Scenarios Masterlist | TBZ Drabbles Masterlist

kevin moon is known on campus for two things: 1. his bright personality literally everyone loves him and if you don’t you’re jealous of him like sorry not sorry i don’t make the rules you know i’m right and 2. his.... unorthodox fashion sense. like eric thought his snake patterned shit was weird as hell?? but there are weirder things in kevin’s closet i swear to you. anyway this unorthodox style is what got him accepted into the fashion program at the university and even though there are a few assholes who stick their noses up at kevin’s work the vast majority of people are cool w his outfits even if they personally wouldn’t wear them and kevin is v well-liked in his major and on campus in general bc he knows everyone and is nice and polite and really a v cool person to be around when he’s not being a fucking idiot

and on campus there are fashion shows a few times every semester to show off the fashion majors’ work, and let’s just say that this university if p well know for its fashion major so some famous people sometimes come along to these events so EVERY TIME a fashion show rolls around the fashion majors get nervous as FUCK and there’s a lot of speculation on who will get noticed and whatever and everyone is secretive about what they’re working on and just. everyone goes fucking haywire and kevin is always v happy when the stress winds down after a show

(no one knows it but kevin has gotten offers from several companies to work with them after he graduates. he hasn’t told anyone except a few friends like juyeon/jacob and his family)

anyway you are also a fashion major who secretly really admires kevin’s stuff?? like you just think he’s so daring and creative and all of his work is absolutely amazing even if it’s a little weird and honestly you don’t even feel overshadowed by his talent and hard work you just feel in awe that you can be in his presence at all. you’re p sure kevin has no idea who you are bc even though you have a lot of the same classes you’re always too shy to sit or work near him bc even though he seems so nice and approachable he’s also just.... god he’s so good

BUT THEN. one of your professors announces that for the next fashion show they’ll be modeling projects that he’s assigning right now. which is weird asf bc usually you’ll all take your best clothing and like fix it or tweak it for the next show, like sometimes people will make something completely from scratch but that’s nerve-wracking and not many people do it unless they’re in a real pinch but it gets even WEIRDER bc this is not a regularly scheduled fashion event?? it’s like a smaller event apparently that they’ve organized just for this project AND THE WEIRDNESS TAKES THE CAKE when your professor says that YOU ARE GOING TO BE THE MODELS. YOU ALL ARE GOING TO PICK SOMEONE IN THE CLASS TO MAKE CLOTHES FOR AND THEY WILL MODEL YOUR OUTFIT

and this SENDS EVERYONE FREAKING THE FUCK OUT??? bc oh god you can’t rely on the models you’ve been using all semester now??? and you have to make flattering clothes for someone you might not even know v well and it’s just. holy fuck holy fuck holy FUCK

meanwhile you already know who you want to create for (/ahem kevin moon/) but you’re also chicken so like??? you’re just sitting in your seat looking over at him but not saying anything until your friend chanhee just pushes you out of your seat in kevin’s direction and is like GO ASK HIM BEFORE YOU LOSE THIS CHANCE and you’re like JESUS FUCKING CHRIST CHANHEE but kevin’s noticed your movement and he’s looking over with a smile on his face and you’re like jfc i can’t do this but chanhee shoves you again and so you kinda smile (you really hope it looks like a smile) and your voice is LITERALLY shaking when you go over and ask if it would be ok to use him as a model for this assignment and he’s like.... oh my god yes

because what YOU don’t know is that kevin has been ogling your designs all year?? like he enjoys his own style and is comfortable in it but he loves your work as in LOVES IT. he thinks your designs are absolutely flawless and original and you combine styles so effortlessly that he just wants to look into your brain when you come up with ideas bc what the fuck?? you may have different styles but kevin knows how to admire art AND YOUR DESIGNS ARE ART.

so you’re reeling a day later bc now you have kevin moon’s number and he has yours and he’s now texting you on when you think you’ll have the first preliminary designs ready and when you can meet up so you can get each other’s measurements and all that and when you eventually meet up your hands are shaking so much that you can barely take his measurements and kevin is screeching in his mind as well bc oh my god you’re going to model his clothes YOU’RE GOING TO MODEL HIS CLOTHES

most people are again being secretive about their designs and even though someone in their class is modeling for them this time so there’s a bit less secrecy they’re still working alone so you get a shock when kevin asks if you want to coordinate your outfits. like work on designs together and maybe make something that matches a little though ofc retaining your own styles and you just shriek when you get the text and poor childhood best friend younghoon spills his coffee (you have been friends since basically birth and there are no romantic feelings whatsoever ok it’s strictly platonic like you watched younghoon vomit after eating too much bread when you were like 10 and he watched you get tangled up in a soccer net when you were 13 there are no romantic feelings stemming from any of that)

needless to say you reply yes yes ye sYES and kevin is grinning so wide on the other end that juyeon wonders if he’s gone slightly insane (which he has but we’re not gonna dwell on that) and both of you show up to the work rooms nervous as all hell (i’m not a fashion major i have no fashion sense i still think t-shirts/leggings are the way to go so idk how any of this works do not sue me) but kevin has a natural ability to defuse any tension in the room so within minutes you’re comfortable and laughing with him and wondering why you were so scared to approach him before and THEN YOU’RE REMINDED WHY when he shows you his design for you because... oh god.... it’s unbelievable. like it has a distinctly kevin feel to it but he’s clearly been paying attention to what you wear and what you design because it’s something you would like to wear and something you even think you could look good in. holy shit

and you just blurt out like kevin what the fuck this is so good did you like stalk my designs or some shit?? and you mean it as a joke ofc but kevin just goes beet red and mumbles something about how he really likes your work and how it’s so sharply elegant but also insanely creative and you’re just. open-mouthed like. dude i’m in love with your work too oh my god i’m gonna cry my fashion idol just said he likes my designs i’m gonna screaM

kevin stops you from screaming though even though he also feels like he’s gonna scream and this is the start of a very productive partnership between the two of you like most of the fashion majors are friendly despite the competition but you and kevin are on a whole other level?? and you start hanging out more and more often even when you’ve finished designing and are actually sewing (you ask him if this part can be secret bc you want to add a few things as a surprise - he ofc says yes and winks and tells you he has things he wants to add too which just makes you want to scream out of excitement)

and it’s a week before fashion show day and you and kevin are finished with putting together the designs and you’re excited as all hell and kevin is literally about to burst from his own skin and you insist that he goes first and when he pulls the outfit from the bag you’re just. in absolute awe. the colors match the design you made, it looks like it’ll fit, and even though it screams kevin moon it also has a distinct vibe from your own fashion style and you just yell KEVIN MOON YOU GENIUS as you snatch it from him and go change

(you don’t know obviously but kevin is blushing like a tomato while waiting for you to finish changing)

it fits almost perfectly, kevin marks a few places to fix and is debating whether or not to compliment you bc??? that sounds like he’s complimenting his own work and that’s egocentric as hell but then you say something like does it look fine and he just blurts out more than fine. you look great

AND YOU’RE SO FLUSTERED THAT YOU ALL BUT THROW YOUR OWN BAG AT KEVIN and are like GO CHANGE

so he takes out the clothes and goes silent and you’re like.... oh my god does he hate it i mean we worked on the designs together and he said he liked it then but what if he changed his mind but then he looks at you and his eyes are sparkling and he’s like y/n this is perfect. literally perfect and he rushes to go get changed and when he comes out your eyes are bugging out of your head bc holy hell you pictured kevin in these clothes obviously since they were made for him but he looks so much better than you ever imagined

and then you blurt out something like holy shit you look beautiful

and kevin blushes again

anyway you both take your measurements and run out and then the day of the fashion show rolls around and both of you are freaking out backstage but the instant you two go on it’s like you both are literal gods bc you feel so confident in each other’s clothing and the crowd can feel it THEY CAN FUCKING FEEL IT and they go nuts when you two walk out!!! and even though it isn’t like a huge major fashion show, it’s just for this one project that your professors cooked up, you and kevin are both beaming like the sun when it’s over despite the fact that it wasn’t an important event bc holy shit you two had fun and everyone’s complimenting your clothing and it’s great it’s just great

finally all the chaos is over and the clothes have been put away and the makeup removed and you and kevin are now standing outside the venue in a kind of stunned silence that all of it’s over. it’s all over. and then you suddenly thrust out the clothes you made that kevin wore and tell him to keep it. it’s a present. and kevin takes it but he also forces you to take the outfit he made for you. and then there’s silence again

but if there’s anything you’ve gained over the past few weeks it’s a bit of courage. courage that let you talk to kevin, courage that let you design clothes for him, courage that let you become friends (and maybe something more) with him. you’ve also learned that kevin is a massive dork and a lovely human being and you’d really love to at least stay in contact so in that the moment you smile and say ‘if i asked you on a date, would you wear that outfit?’

poor kevin looks like he’s about to have a fucking aneurysm and you start to lose confidence but then he’s nodding like there’s no tomorrow like yes ye sYE S OH MY GOD YE S and omg you now have a boyfriend whom you like very very much and kevin has a partner whom he likes very very much

you two may not be a pda couple but you ARE that couple that matches every outfit they wear, you make jewelry and accessories for each other and also make each other clothes every so often. everyone is jealous of your combined fashion sense bc even though the outfits might look outrageous, you two both manage to pull them off and look fabulous at it, but also they can’t even be that jealous bc you two are the sweetest couple and are absolutely lovely

both of you do wear the outfits you made for that show on your first date which is to like a musical or smth bc theatre kid kevin is something you can pry out of my cold dead hands and everyone’s staring but you two are in your own little world and it’s amazing

kevin admits at one point that he was afraid to ask you out bc he thought younghoon was your boyfriend and you just snort and tell him everything stupid younghoon’s done and by the end younghoon is done with you, kevin is about to vomit he’s laughing so hard, and you are smirking like no tomorrow

for the end of year fashion show you and kevin fix up and accessorize the outfits you two made for the show that brought you two together and there is absolutely no surprise that several different fashion companies scout both of you (and a couple modeling agencies too since you and kevin decided to model your own clothing again - younghoon whines that you’ve replaced him but you shut him up with chocolate bread)

kevin’s a sucker for romance (you CANNOT tell me this isn't true) so your first kiss is on the roof of the fashion building at sunset when kevin does the cheesy thing where he says you look more beautiful the view and you almost slap him but you’re laughing so hard and kevin’s cackling and somehow it turns into a kiss

you are a dork and kevin is even more of a dork and it just works out beautifully bc you’re so absolutely in love that it makes people fake vomit from the sides (looking at chanhee right here) but it’s also really sweet in that you two trust each other completely and would do absolutely anything for the other except murder. kevin made that v clear but really only bc blood would stain his clothing and he doesn’t need that. you agree wholeheartedly (younghoon/juyeon are looking from the sides like what the fuck is this couple do they need help and you two are like just go away and let us be the weird couple we are ok). the conversation ends in a v soft v sweet kiss and just. ik i said it with juyeon but kevin moon is also best bf ever ok you cannot convince me otherwise.

and that’s how it goes :)

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 prayer for this weird-ass couple)

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sope-and-shine · 3 years

Text

The Right of a King: Pt. 1

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

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

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

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

Masterlist

* * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hit his arm, “Get out of here.”

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

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

* * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You jump, “Fix what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

You really hope you’re going crazy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But nothing does.

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

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

If you get that far.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I did.” You nod, smug smile and all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re being unreasonable.” He huffs.

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

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

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

“Well, this time she is,” You insist.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not happening!” You call over your shoulder.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

Anyone but you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shrug, “It’s just banana milk.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s fine.” You mumble.

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

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

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

That gets you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?” You ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Any of them?” He asks.

You nod, “Just lead the way.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’d be devastated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You roll your eyes, “Oh, sure.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Are you really falling for him?

~ Read: Part 2 ~

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rbbalmung · 3 years

Text

Pokemon SwSh GPL AU: Character Headcannons P1

(From this point on, I am calling this Pokemon Sword and Shield AU the GPL AU after the Galarian Pokemon League). Here are my character headcannons! I am going to give each character and age and a general ethnicity even though A) time will pass in this au and B) obviously there are no countries in Pokemon. I will be giving them an age based on when the AU starts, at the beginning on Gloria’s Pokemon League Journey.

GLORIA:

-Age: 16

-Ethnicity: Half English, Half Japanese (English father, Japanese mother)

-General Headcannons:

o She is an introverted extrovert. She loves meeting new people and making new friends, but she is on the quiet side due to her troubled relationship with her father.

o Going off of that, her parents got a divorce when she was 6 years old because her father was negligent. She has not been in contact with him since he left, but he is at the base of some of her social anxiety. That is why she mostly speaks either in short sentences or not at all (going off her interactions in the game).

o The thing that makes Gloria stand out as a Pokemon trainer is that she can pick up on her opponents nuances just by examining them. For example, if her opponent’s breathing quickens, she knows that they are nervous and will resort to mainly attacks. That is why it is so hard for her to beat Leon: He has an emotionless mask during his battles.

o She picked up this strategy by watching GPL battles throughout her childhood. Gloria was often put in front of the television set to distract her from her parents fighting, and since she had to put so much of her attention towards the matches, she picked up on a lot of people’s ticks.

o Gloria is very clingy to Hop. She finds comfort in being near him, so she is often latching onto his arm, hugging him from behind, or holding his hand. The closer she gets to people, the more she hangs onto them. This is rough with Bede and Bea, so it takes a bit of work on both their ends to make sure they’re not making the other party unhappy.

o Gloria is ridiculously brave. She will go into pretty much any situation, which is why she just goes along when asked to join the dojo/go on an expedition.

o Speaking of expeditions, she looks up to Peony as the father figure she never had. She doesn’t outwardly tell him this because A) her relationship with her father really messed her up and B) the fact that he is related to Rose makes her a little wary. She knows how much Rose messed up Bede and does not want to cause more grief.

o Speaking of Bede, they actually become really close friends after the League wraps up and during Rose’s trial. Bede is one of the only people that can emphasise with her social anxiety, and luckily for him, Gloria doesn’t give up on people. She has to work on not being clingy with him because he does not like being touched.

o Gloria is the first female champion!

o. Victor exists in this au, but not until way after Gloria’s first year as champion. He is her half brother; her father eventually remarried in Stow-In-Side and had Victor a year-ish later (making him 7 years younger than Gloria). They do not reunite until she is 20 years old, but she accepts him as her brother easily (she knows how terrible their dad is).

o Gloria’s full name is Gloria Park. She does not have a middle name.

(I took the most liberties with Gloria because she is the MC and the game doesn’t give toooo much of a character. I know a lot of people head cannon her as super extroverted and confident, but I preferred this take for this particular AU).

HOP:

-Age: 16

-Ethnicity: Half Spanish, Half Black (His mom is Spanish, his dad is black)

-General Headcannons:

o Hop’s dad died when he was 2 years old, so he doesn’t really remember him. He never really had a father figure since Leon left to become Champion when he was 6. That is where is anxiety is rooted: Both his father (who was a firefighter and treated like a hero after his death) and Leon’s success makes Hop feel like he has to do something grand to live up to them.

o Hop actually befriended Gloria through their love of Pokemon battles! His mum invited her mum over for dinner, and while his and Gloria’s interactions were stiff at best during dinner, they really clicked after when they began watching the game on the TV. They’ve been inseparable ever since.

o I headcannon that Hop has ADD. He practically never sits still and has a hard time paying attention to things unless he is hyper focused. Hop is really booksmart, he just has trouble focusing. He also doesn’t really see the point in maintaining his grades when he’s just going to become the new Champion.

o He played soccer when he was little as an outlet for his ADD. He joined the GJPL (Galar Junior Pokemon League), but since he was in a small district, he never made it to the big times like Bede. He did manage to score fairly well with his wooloo, though, making him one of the MVPs in the 76th GPL.

o Hop is a nickname. HIs full name is “Hipoltio Henry Hoffman”. (Henry was his father’s name).

o Like Gloria, Hop is a really touchy person. They kind of rubbed off on each other, so he shows affection by linking arms, bumping shoulders, ect.

o After the GPL wraps up and he gets asked to be Sonia’s assistant, she gives him the opportunity to study abroad until he graduates high school. He takes this opportunity and briefly moves to study other Pokemon in Johto. He does come back to visit in the summer, which is why he ends up on the Isle of Armor around the same time as Gloria.

BEDE:

-Age: 17

-Ethnicity: White

-Headcannons:

o He never met his parents, but he was told he was taken away from them by child protective services. This made him really bitter from the get-go because they never came back for him.

o Bede has abandonment issues, but in a different way from Gloria. While she is willing to let anyone in, he is more prone to shut everyone out. He only starts to open up when he realizes Gloria’s life isn’t as perfect as he originally guessed.

o Bede reeeeaaaallllyyyy doesn’t like being touched. He got into a lot of fights in the orphanage when he was younger because of his short temper. That is barely the tip of the iceberg: There was a lot of shady things that happened at the orphanage that only stopped once Chairman Rose started showing interest in him. Bede doesn’t talk about this to anyone.

o Bede participated in the GJPL and made it to the championships two years in a row! He got to travel to Hoenn for one of them and meet the champion there. This was what brought Rose’s attention to him.

o The reason Bede didn’t join the league at 16 was because Rose didn’t sponsor him yet. Because of this, he decided to challenge Raihan for his position as gym leader of Hammerlocke. Sufficed to say, Bede lost pretty badly.

o He was very convinced that Rose was going to adopt him, which made his dismissal ten times worse than it originally was. He eventually comes to term with the fact that the Chairman used him and threw him under the bus when he realised that he could get in trouble for destroying the monument.

o Opal becomes his guardian when he accepts his new role as the Fairy Gym Leader, but she officially adopts him about a year later. He isn’t very good at talking about his emotions, but he does care deeply for the old woman and her acceptance of him brought him to tears.

o Bede gave himself his middle name: Steven, after Hoenn’s Champion Steven Stone. His full name is Bede Steven Doe pre-adoption, and Bede Steven Waltz post-adoption.

o He is super prickly, but after becoming gym leader, Bede mellows out a little bit. He is still haughty and self absorbed, but he is not as outwardly rude about it.

o He ends up forming a lot of unlikely relationships after he settles in his position as gym leader. He and Bea get along really well because of their proximity and similar personalities, Gloria won’t let him not be her friend (he has a soft side for her), and Marnie is one of the less eccentric gym leaders that he likes to hang around with at group gatherings.

MARNIE:

-Age: 16

-Ethnicity: White

-Headcannons:

o Marnie is the youngest of 5 children, and she is the only girl. Therefore, she was always coddled by her family. One of the biggest reasons she joined the pokemon league was to prove her true worth to her family.

o Out of all her siblings, she is the closest to Piers. She doesn’t agree with his opposition to dynamaxing, but they are both passionate about restoring glory to Spikemuth. He also spent the most time with her when they were growing up because her parents worked a lot (Spikemuth is a poverty-stricken town).

o Marnie is quite the little activist. It is a little ironic because she is incredibly soft-spoken and will swear up a storm at the same time.

o She gains a lot of fans during her GPL alongside Gloria because they are both favourites to become the first female champion. Instead of forming a bitter rivalry with her, Marnie elects to befriend Gloria because she reminds her of her friend, Primrose.

o Marnie LOVES shopping. She never really had the chance to leave Spikemuth growing up, so a lot of her free time when not participating in Pokemon battles is spent in boutiques.

o One of Marnie’s special skills is that she can see right through a person’s core. That is why she is initially kind to Gloria, Hop, and Bede. On the other hand, she and Piers both constantly talk shit about Chairman Rose. She isn’t really a fan of Leon either, but she knows that he is a good person so she tries to be nice.

o Speaking of Leon (to some degree), she immediately decides to befriend Hop when she realises he is also the younger sibling of a famous Pokemon trainer. They bond over their similar roles in life and their shared love of music! (Hop really likes Piers’s music and freaks out when he gets to meet him).

o Marnie can play the guitar and the piano! If she didn’t become a gym leader, she could definitely see herself going into music.

o I head cannon that Marnie is bisexual, but she is not currently aware of it. I will definitely talk more about this later in the AU or if I actually get around to writing a one shot.

o Her full name is Marnie Isla Lewis.

Next Part: Gym Leaders!

#GPL AU #pokemon #pokemon au #pokemon sword and shield #swsh gloria #gloria #swsh hop #hop #swsh bede #bede #swsh marnie #marnie #pokemon headcanons #postwickshipping

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out-of-jams · 3 years

Text

Rebound || pjm

↠ Rebound ↞ Who cared if Kim Taehyung slept with other people? You sure as hell didn’t. That was what friends with benefits meant, right? No, it didn’t matter that you were halfway in love with him. And no, you sure as hell weren’t going to try and make him jealous with a complete stranger. Nope, not at all. Right?

Right.

Word Count: 7k.

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Warnings/Genre: College!au. s2l. Explicit language. Alcohol use. Slight angst. Jealousy. Pining. One shot. PG 16.

(yes, this is a repost of the original, but this has been changed and i'd already deleted it so yeet)

All works here are purely fiction. Everything I write is my intellectual property and therefore belongs to me. ©out-of-jams. Do not copy or repost without permission. That is illegal and you are stealing no matter if you give credit or not.

| | Masterlist | |

“So, you’re coming to the party tonight, right?”

The feminine and slightly accusatory voice of your best friend went in one ear and out of the other. You were too busy watching the digital red numbers counting upwards above the elevator doors to pay much attention to your phone. And the hum of the steel machine sent vibrations through your spine as you leaned against the back wall. With your heart in your throat and palms sweating, you took a deep breath.

“Hello? Y/n!”

“I dunno, Jennie,” you mumbled, bottom lip tucked between your teeth. The elevator was so slow that it practically moved backwards in time. “I might be too busy to go tonight.”

There was a slight pause on the other end of the line and you could practically picture the way Jennie was probably comparing outfits to wear for the night. “What you mean by that is, ‘I can’t go to the party with my best friend because I’ll be too busy fucking Kim Taehyung.’ Was I close?”

Not even her crass words could wipe the excited smile from your face. “Maybe.”

Kim Taehyung.

Three months of hooking up with the guy and just hearing his name still brought a blush to your cheeks. It was no secret that every girl and even some of the guys on campus had a crush on him at some point. He was beautiful. Adonis masquerading as a human made of flesh and blood. Tall, slim and charismatic, he knew everyone, and everyone knew him. If you needed a connection, Taehyung was the person that you went to. Teachers loved him, grandmothers loved him, hell, even animals loved him.

Which, of course, meant that he could have had any single person that he blinked those pretty brown eyes at.

When he’d pulled out a chair and sat down next to you in your shared photography class at the beginning of the semester, you couldn’t believe your eyes. And neither could any of the other girls in the room, if their glares were anything to go by. Because you weren’t anything special. Nor did you come close to Taehyung’s level. You didn’t have a bunch of friends, just Jennie, and you sure as hell weren’t anything to look twice at. So, you’d just chalked it up to him wanting to sit in one of the only two window seats and left it at that.

Fifteen minutes into class and he’d turned those chocolate eyes in your direction, chin resting in the palm of his hand. And when his cupid-bow lips parted, the smooth baritone of his voice spoke quietly in order to not interrupt the professor taking attendance.

“I haven’t seen you around before. What’s your name?”

Nine words. That’s all it took to seal your fate.

Five days later and you were pinned beneath his sweating, honey colored skin. Kim Taehyung had hypnotized you with his white toothed smile and you were pathetically weak to that silver tongue of his.

One night in his bed and you were his.

A single night turned into two and then three, and then before you knew it, Taehyung would wait for you outside of your last class for the day to walk you home. And his name would pop up on your phone at two am on a Saturday, his voice seductive through the receiver as he convinced you to take an Uber to his apartment.

You thought that you would have been strong enough to resist falling down the rabbit hole that was Kim Taehyung. But you were too weak to stop yourself from wanting more. From confessing to him your feelings that had built up with each press of his mouth to yours. You weren’t foolish enough to think that you were dating him. Though that did little from imagining that you were more than just a hook-up to him. That his heart beat quickly in his chest every time he laid those mocha eyes on you. It’d gotten to the point where you couldn’t take it anymore.

Which was exactly why you were glaring up at the slow ticking numbers above the elevator door with your foot tapping a nervous rhythm. Today was the day that you were finally going to grab the proverbial bull by the horns and confess your feelings for the man that walked your dreams like he owned them.

“I gotta go,” you quickly cut off whatever sentence Jennie had been in the middle of, already pulling the phone from your ear in preparation to hang up. “Talk to youlaterokaybye!”

Whether or not she’d been able to decipher your jumble of words wasn’t really your problem. Because the elevator came to a halt with one last obnoxious and unnecessary bounce. Closing your eyes, you swallowed.

“Okay, suck it up.” A deep inhale echoed through the steel box, accompanied by the rustle of the plastic bag of takeout dangling from your fingertips. “You got this, Y/n.”

A ding! was all the warning you got before the doors slid open along with your eyes.

And your stomach dropped all the way back down to the first floor.

Not even halfway down the hall, two bodies were mercilessly tangled with one another. Pushed up against one of the apartment doors, a flash of blond hair and tan skin was recognizable even with his back turned to you. And the girl, you couldn’t make out her face or a majority of her body seeing as how Taehyung’s was blocking her from view.

The elevator’s doors slowly started to close, but you couldn’t move. Frozen in place, all you could do was stare at Taehyung as he fished into his back pocket for his keys and blindly unlocked his front door. Both of them disappeared from sight just as the steel doors finally shut.

Your shocked, hurt expression was mirrored back to you in the morphed reflection. Plastic slipped through your fingers and the bag of takeout hit the floor with a muted thud. Vision blurring from tears, you jammed a finger into the button to go back down to the lobby floor. The elevator was sluggish in responding, so you pressed the plastic again. And again. And again.

How could you have been so stupid? So naive as to think that you would be the only person that Taehyung was hooking up with. You should have known that there was no way in hell he would have returned your feelings. But like the idiot you were, you’d let yourself get drunk on him. And now you were paying the price for being foolish.

The elevator finally moved, and you threw your head back to stop the tears from spilling over. Waiting until you were out of the shitty lobby to Taehyung’s shitty apartment building would be the only way you’d be able to hold onto your last shred of dignity.

“Back already?” Jennie didn’t even turn to look at you when you entered your shared dorm room, too busy examining her outfit in the full-length mirror. Whenever she got invited to go to a party, she always planned what she was going to wear hours in advance. Only to brush off the compliments she would receive at said functions with a giggle and nonchalant wave of her hand.

The door closed behind you with finality and you couldn’t hold back the sob that’d been threatening to break free since you fled Taehyung’s apartment building. Jennie whipped around at the sound, dropping the skirt she held in her hands and letting it fall to the floor.

“What happened?” In two seconds, she was across the room and held your face between her soft hands. Concern flickered through her dark colored eyes as she wiped the tears from your cheeks. “Did Taehyung do something to you? I swear to god, say the word and I’ll call up the guy from my biology class to kick his ass.”

You shook your head, which was more difficult than it looked with the grip she had on you. And when you opened your mouth to answer, the words barely made it past your lips with how hard the sobs rocked your body. “No...no, don’t call Jungkook. I’m just so stupid, Jennie.”

“You’re not stupid.” She murmured but guided you over to your bed and waited until you sat down to speak again. “Tell me what happened.”

There was something about her that made you spill your heart out. You’d been too reluctant to tell her about your feelings for Taehyung before. All she’d known was that the two of you hooked up frequently. She sat there patiently, nodding her head and scowling when you got to the part about him sleeping with other girls.

“So he never brought that up?” Jennie leaned back against your headboard and sucked her cheek in anger. “That he was seeing other people?”

Shaking your head, you whipped your damp eyes with the sleeves of your shirt. “No, but I should have known. I shouldn’t be so surprised.”

Your best friend opened her mouth to respond with what was most likely an angry rant aimed at summoning Jeon Jungkook to fight Taehyung. He was two years younger than her and yet that did little from preventing the enormous crush she had on the guy, even though she would argue otherwise. You held up a hand to stop her words before they could form.

“Look, I just want to forget about him, okay? I shouldn’t have thought...,” sighing, you ran a hand down your face, voice small. “I don’t want to talk about him anymore.”

“Okay then.” Jennie nodded her head slowly. She stood from the bed and crossed the small amount of space between your bed and hers. Swooping down to grab some of the discarded clothes on her duvet, she turned to shoot you a smirk. “You’ll just have to get over him.”

You flopped down on your back, throwing an arm over your face. “That’s what I just said.”

“Yes, but how do you get over him?”

Too emotionally exhausted to bother with throwing her a glare, you huffed in irritation. “If I knew that, I wouldn’t be lying here with my heart broken.”

A short pause encompassed the room before you heard Jennie’s footsteps approach your bed. She dragged your arm from your face and made sure you met her assured gaze. “That was rhetorical. You get over him by getting under someone else.”

You snorted, though it lacked amusement. “Having sex with a stranger won’t help.”

She shrugged and used her grip on your arm to pull you into a sitting position. “Or it might, you never know. You just need to find someone who can make you forget about Kim Taehyung.”

“That’s not possible,” your dry tone did nothing to dissuade her. Jennie threw a piece of fabric over your head, effectively blocking out all of the light and shrouding you in a blanket of darkness.

“It is possible. Now get dressed, you’re coming to that party with me tonight.”

“Do I have to?” You complained but held what you now realized was a skirt out in front of you. It was...well, short. Would barely even hit mid-thigh. “You know I don’t go to parties that often.”

“Which is exactly why you need to.” She was too busy examining a cute, short sleeve top to bother being affected by your glare. Apparently deeming it good enough, she tossed it in your lap. “If you don’t go, I’ll just drag you there.”

Arguing with Jennie was a lot like talking to a brick wall. Once she set her mind to something, getting her to change it bordered on impossible. And to be honest, you didn’t have the energy to even try. So with a grumble, you slid off of your bed. “Fine.”

“Maybe you should slow down?” Jennie’s suggestion came out more like a question, but you didn’t hear her because you were too busy downing another shot.

The vodka burned as it snaked its way down your throat and you hardly even noticed before you started to pour another shot. All around you, music poured from the obnoxiously large speakers set up throughout the frat house, shaking the floor with just how loud the bass was. Not even the music could detract from the heat of bodies grinding against each other on the makeshift dance floor.

You weren’t sure which frat house you were at to be honest. Not that it mattered. They were all the same anyway and the free alcohol had called your name the moment you stepped foot inside the packed place. Jennie stood next to you in the almost empty kitchen with a red solo cup held delicately in her manicured hand. She stared at you with barely hidden concern while you knocked back a third shot.

“O-kay.” She reached out a hand to grab the bottle of vodka from you when you went to pour another. “Pace yourself before I have to carry you home.”

“You’re the one that wanted me to come,” you complained but let her confiscate your alcohol anyway. “Might as well get drunk off the free supply.”

“Yes, well.” Jennie raised an eyebrow, scooting closer to you at the island when a guy you didn’t recognize approached to mix his own concoction of poison. “While that’s true, ending up face down in a dirty frat house toilet isn’t the way you wanna go out. Trust me.”

You paused in surveying the darkened room of dancing bodies to send her a questioning look. “You speaking from experience here?”

“Oh, shut up.” She let out a very unladylike snort into her cup and brushed her long black hair over her exposed shoulder. She nodded at the crowd in the other room. “Look, let’s just find you a hot guy to get under so you can get over that douchebag.”

The guy who’d been pouring himself a drink looked over at Jennie’s words, eyes lighting up in interest. She either didn’t notice or did and chose to ignore him. You sighed and tried your hardest to ignore the way your stomach dropped at the reminder of Taehyung. “I doubt I’ll find anyone here that could compare to him.”

A slap to your bare arm had you turning to glare at your best friend, fingers rubbing furiously at your now red skin. Jennie just rolled her eyes with an exasperated huff. “Not with that attitude you won’t. Besides, Kim Taehyung is not all that.”

The strange guy occupying the kitchen made himself scarce after that, whatever interest he may have had in the conversation fleeing at the mention of Taehyung. She ignored your look of disbelief and continued. “He’s not. There’s plenty of hotties here who would be eager to take his place. You could literally just close your eyes and point.”

She wasn’t wrong there. The number of attractive men that paraded themselves around the party like peacocks werenice to look at. But they weren’t Taehyung. And that was where your problems lie.

“Go take a lap.” Jennie didn’t wait for you to respond before her hand was on your back, pushing you towards the open kitchen archway. “If you don’t find someone who catches your eye, then we can just call it a night and get drunk.”

Letting out a put-upon sigh, you sent her a look over your shoulder and let her push you out of the kitchen. She didn’t follow, choosing instead to retreat back into the kitchen and strike up a conversation with a girl she apparently knew. Whatever. It wasn’t like you needed her to escort you around like you were a child at a birthday party. No! You were an adult. A grown woman who was going to get over Kim Taehyung.

And if you had to get under someone else to do it, well, that was exactly what you were going to do.

The barely lit living room was completely different from the bright lights in the kitchen, and you had to squint to let your eyes adjust for a moment. It was just like you’d seen when you’d walked through earlier, though you hadn’t been paying much attention then. Not even two feet to your left was a couple. What they were doing couldn’t even be defined as dancing, it was more like sex with clothes on.

Grimacing, you weaved through the crowd, most people not bothering to move out of your way. The seductive music that poured over your ears was silently beckoning you to move your hips to the beat, but you resisted. You weren’t nearly drunk enough to let loose on your inhibitions and drown in the pulsing rhythm. So, you pressed on, navigating from the living room and into the spacious foyer. It connected one side of the house to the other and you took a moment to breathe.

Eyes closed; you ran a shaking hand through your hair. You could do this. Hell, it wasn’t even the thought of sleeping with a stranger that made you hesitant. Whether or not you were just a hook-up to him, your feelings for Taehyung had been real. It’d been a very long time since you’d last felt the same way for someone, to the point where you’d begun to think that you never would again.

You were heartbroken.

Over a guy who couldn’t give two shits about you.

If you closed your eyes, you could hear his voice murmuring in your ear. And the ghosts of his fingertips could be felt running through your hair, short nails scratching against your scalp. The way his tongue spoke words was one of your favorite things about him, and his deep baritone practically yelled in your ear.

Wait.

Your eyes flew open in shock. No, it hadn’t been your imagination after all. Because Taehyung’s excited shout reached over the music and had your head snapping in that direction. Your feet moved before you registered it, right across the foyer and into the other room. Inside was just as dark as the living room, except this one was lit up by a glow-in-the-dark beer pong table situated right in the center.

Couches had been pushed up against the walls and were occupied by people either passed out or couples making out like they were alone in their own homes. You didn’t pay them any mind, nor did you notice anything else in the near vicinity. Because on the far side of the beer pong table stood Taehyung. His blond hair glowed white in the neon lighting and the yellow button-down shirt he had on made him look like a well-dressed highlighter.

He had one hand raised, a white ping pong ball held between his slender fingers. Dark brows were pinched in concentration and his tongue stuck out of the corner of his mouth as he stared down the cup on the other side of the table. But that wasn’t what had you freezing in your tracks, effectively blocking the doorway.

His other arm was slung around the petite shoulders of the same girl you’d caught him making out with earlier that day. Or at least, you assumed it was her since you hadn’t been able to get a good glimpse of her face. Not like how you could now. She was pretty. Beautiful. With long brunette hair that framed her pixie-like face perfectly. And her cute, girlish giggle floated through the air while she watched with big, innocent eyes as Taehyung dramatically took his shot.

You didn’t even notice it land in the last cup standing on the other side, too busy caught up in how that girl was everything you weren’t. It was no wonder she’d caught his eye. You’d been surprised that he’d even given you attention in the first place but had taken it as a confidence booster. Had thought that maybe you weren’t as plain looking as you’d thought you were. But now?

Now you were positive that Taehyung had only slept with you because you were convenient. Or because he was bored. Whichever it was, you felt your insecurities rear their ugly head along with a flash of white-hot anger. Jealousy tightened your throat, and you couldn’t even stop yourself from glaring at the unsuspecting girl.

How dare he?

How dare he sleep with you and then throw you away like you were nothing? Like you meant nothing? Like you were just another notch under his belt?

You’d show him.

The crowd gathered around the table was cheering, some going up to pat Taehyung on the back. He was too busy flashing his boxy grin at a tall, dimpled man to even notice that you’d entered the room. A guy broke free of the crowd, shorter than some in stature but beautiful enough to make you look twice, and his feline-like eyes barely met your own before he slipped past you and out of the room.

“We need another player!”

A split second after the shout overtook the crowd, you found your feet moving on their own once again. Raising a hand in an attempt to be seen over the taller boys, you blamed the alcohol for the way your voice left your mouth unhindered. “I’ll play!”

The crowd parted at your call and you emerged on the other side before you could second guess yourself. Cups were being set back up by those standing on the sidelines, cans of beer cracking open and filling the plastic halfway up. Your eyes locked with Taehyung’s chocolate ones and his face morphed into one of surprise before a grin overtook his features. The arm he still had around the girl had yet to drop.

“Y/n, hey!” He waved an opened can of beer at you in greeting and it was by pure will alone that your steps didn’t falter. How was he acting so casual with his arm around another girl like he hadn’t just been making you scream his name two days ago?

Did you really mean so little to him?

Bitterness stung your throat and fed the anger coating your tongue.

“Are you my new partner?” A voice, so surprisingly sweet and raspy that it contradicted itself in the best possible way, drew your attention from the blond across the beer pong table.

You hadn’t been thinking straight, therefore you hadn’t even given a second thought to the fact that you’d just volunteered yourself to play a game you’d only participated in a handful of times. A glance to your left had you doing a double take. Because the guy approaching you didn’t call for anything less.

Full, kissable lips were the first thing about him that caught your eye. They were pulled back in a grin and you took a moment to notice a cute, crooked front tooth. Even with the lack of sufficient lighting, you could tell that his mouth was soft. That he applied chap stick often. Moving your gaze slowly upwards past a button nose, you finally met his gaze. His eyes weren’t chocolate colored like Taehyung’s or dark like Jennie’s.

Espresso.

The same shade as the coffee you drank in the morning to get through the day. Deep and expressive, they reflected the glow of the table despite the fact that they were squinted up into half-moons from his smile. He ran a lightly tanned hand through his black hair and your attention shifted to the two silver rings on his fingers. His hands, much like himself, were petite, but not in a way that made him look small.

No, he was slender, slim, and all leg. The muscles in his thighs were perfectly visible through the tight material of his ripped jeans. And a soft looking striped sweater took up his top half.

His dark brows were lifted in a silent question and it was at that moment that you remembered he was waiting for you to answer. Clearing your throat, you pushed Taehyung to the back of your mind and gave him your best smile.

“Yeah. I haven’t played in forever so I’m sorry if I suck.”

Laughter fell from his mouth, a sweet sound, and he shook his head at you. “That’s okay. I’m not very good either.”

In a flash of silver, he extended a hand out to you. “Park Jimin. And you are? I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”

Your hand met his. It was soft yet had calluses that made you wonder where he got them from. Tilting your head up, you met his curious stare. “Y/n. And I’d be surprised if you have. I don’t get out much.”

“Yet you’re here volunteering to play beer pong with me?” Jimin let go of your hand to press his palm to his chest, teeth flashing in another grin. “I’m honored.”

“Remember you said that when we lose.” You snorted in amusement.

“You guys playing or not?” The question came from the right side of the table and you turned to look at the same dimpled man Taehyung had been talking to. He waved his hand at the table with a smirk aimed at Jimin over your shoulder.

“Ignore Namjoon.” Jimin nudged your side with his elbow, making sure to catch your eye before he threw you a conspiratorial wink. “He’s drunk.”

“I heard that!” The man you assumed was Namjoon shouted over the music. He rolled his eyes and nodded his head towards Taehyung’s side of the table. The blond’s arm had dropped from the girl’s shoulders, but he wasn’t looking in your direction, too busy downing the rest of his beer. “Tae’s team starts since he won.”

Namjoon must have been playing as the referee, but with the way his eyes were glazed over, you wondered if he was in the right state of mind to. Taehyung crumpled his now empty can of beer and set it off to the side of the table, reaching forward to grab a ping pong ball and dip it into a cup of water next to his empty can. He barely even paused before taking his turn.

Of course, his shot landed.

You had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop a scowl from overtaking your face. When the unnamed girl at his side picked up her own ball, you silently prayed for her downfall. Or at least for her face to get stuck in that expression she was making. How was it possible to still look attractive when her nose scrunched like yeah?

“You got this, Minjae.” Taehyung’s encouraging words barely even registered through the green tinted fog clouding your vision.

She--Minjae--finally took her turn and as if in slow motion, the ball flew through the air and bounced against the rim of the first cup in the triangle. And because of course, it landed in the beer filled one next to it. Gritting your teeth, you glared at it.

Jimin pouted but grabbed up the cup the ball landed in anyway. Plucking it out, he handed it to you with a smile and grabbed the other. “Cheers.”

You absentmindedly tapped your cup against his and downed the bitter, carbonated alcohol. The taste lingered on your tongue. An arm being casually thrown over your shoulders had you glancing up from where you’d been watching Taehyung’s team get the balls back to go again. Jimin’s cologne washed away some of the stench of the party, masculine yet sweet, just like him. You had to stop yourself from inhaling like a weirdo when he murmured low enough for only you to hear.

“Okay, we should talk strategy.”

“There’s strategy to this game?” Your lips twitched in amusement. Flickering your attention to the other side of the table from the corner of your eye, you noticed Taehyung staring directly at you. Good. Pretending like you hadn’t noticed, you leaned into Jimin’s comforting warmth and grinned up at him. “I thought it was just a pretense to get wasted.”

A tiny dimple appeared between the corner of his mouth and his high cheekbone as a chuckle tumbled out. “While that’s true, the goal is to get drunk and win.”

“What did you have in mind then?”

Jimin’s espresso irises twinkled and he leaned closer conspiratorially, making sure to keep an eye on Minjae taking her turn. “Taehyung has been carrying their team all night. So, all you gotta do is distract him whenever it’s his turn.”

Her shot veered too far to the left and bounced off the table. Namjoon attempted to grab it out of the air, but he fumbled it and it fell to the sticky floor. Jimin’s words had your brows furrowing. “Distract him how?”

He shrugged, lightly jostling your shoulders with his arm. Taehyung was talking to Minjae, his words too quiet to hear, with a ball rolling between his fingers. Jimin leaned back a little, letting his eyes rove over you. “You’re cute. You’d sure as hell distract me.”

You couldn’t blame the people crowding the room for the way your cheeks flushed. The flirtatious compliment fell from his lips so easily and sincerely that you couldn’t doubt that he meant them. Which just made you flustered all over again. Clearing your throat, you did your best to play it off. Just as you opened your mouth to respond, a familiar voice had you snapping it closed again.

“It’s your turn.”

Taehyung had his arms crossed and he nodded at the cup his ball landed in when both you and Jimin looked over.

“Alright, alright,” your partner responded playfully, squeezing your shoulder with a smile just for you. “I’ll take this one, you can go first.”

While Jimin drained the cup of beer, you approached the table and took one of the balls from Namjoon with a nod of thanks. It was wet and sticky between your fingers and you took a moment to spare a thought towards how unsanitary the game was. One of the cups in the middle of the other team’s formation caught your eye. Hesitating for only a moment, you took aim and tossed the ball.

It landed right in the center and the noise from the crowd faded in the background when you met Taehyung’s heavy stare. His eyes were unreadable, but that wasn’t all that surprising. From your brief three-month stint with him, you’d learned that while friendly and outgoing, he was very good at hiding his emotions when he wanted to. Which made you wonder what exactly was going on behind those chocolate eyes of his.

“Holy shit.” Jimin appeared at your side and you broke your staring contest to beam over at him. “I thought you said you sucked.”

“Maybe you’re just my good luck charm.” You shrugged nonchalantly and tossed your hair over your shoulder. Oh, god. Were you trying too much? Flirting too hard?

“Maybe.” By the pleased look on his face, you’d take that as a no.

Jimin took his turn, landing his ball in a cup. You cheered along with the crowd and raised your hand in the space between the two of you. His palm hit yours in a high-five and you couldn’t even hide your excitement. It wasn’t that you were super competitive, you just wanted to beat Taehyung.

Though maybe beating him was setting your sights a little too high.

Because you and Jimin didn’t last much longer against him. Contrary to him assuming that you’d be any type of distraction to the blonde across the table at all, you weren’t. How could you, when Minjae stood by his side? Every time she missed a shot, he’d say something to wipe the frown from her face. Instead of forcing her to down the beer she grimaced at, Taehyung would drink it for her.

Had you really meant so little to him? What the hell did she have that you didn’t?

The answer to your silent question echoed in your mind as you watched him line up to take his winning shot.

Everything.

Practically in slow motion, the ball flew across the table and landed in the cup. It spun ‘round, and ‘round, and ‘round against the inner rim before finally falling into the carbonated liquid with a quiet plop!

Just like before, everyone spectating the game screamed. You weren’t anywhere near drunk enough to deal with the volume. It took a lot more than a few half-full cups of warm beer to push you over the edge. Maybe you shouldn’t have let Jennie confiscate that bottle of vodka you’d been drinking out of earlier.

At your side, Jimin let out a groan. He didn’t sound all that upset at having lost a second time and you spared a moment to get caught up in the way his hand felt on your shoulder. Despite the fact that it was incredibly stuffy inside of the house, he wasn’t overflowing with heat. The look he gave you was one of shared exasperated amusement. Like the two of you were in on a secret and hadn’t just lost a game.

Looking back over to the other side of the table, you were just in time to see Minjae throw her arms around Taehyung’s neck. He didn’t even hesitate to bend down and let her pull him into a congratulatory kiss.

Watching Taehyung touch the girl at his side like you weren’t even there made your blood boil. And if you were in the right state of mind, maybe you would have realized that it was hurt, not anger, that had you turning to Jimin. He’d just finished downing the final cup of beer when you approached him, grabbing his hand like it belonged in yours.

You weren’t sure what you were doing. Maybe it was the desire to be wanted that took control of your actions. Or perhaps the need to have someone erase the ghost of Taehyung’s touch that still lingered on your skin. Whatever it was, you found yourself gravitating towards the man at your side.

“Hey Jimin?”

Jimin’s coffee-colored eyes flickered down at you with a smile, but he didn’t pull away. And that was all the sign you needed to muster up your courage. If he rejected you, well, you’d have to change your name and move to another country. Picturing Jennie in your mind, you tried to conjure up every flirtatious move she’d used on guys before and fluttered your lashes, a sweet upwards tilt to your lips.

“You wanna go dance?”

Hand giving yours a quick squeeze, Jimin leaned down to murmur in your ear, “you sure you can keep up, sweetheart?”

His cheek was close enough to brush against yours as he spoke, and you blamed the alcohol for the way your mind went blank. Swallowing to clear your head, you responded. “I should be asking you that.”

Jimin leaned back just far enough for you to see the smirk that quirked up the side of his mouth. His thumb stroked along the back of your hand in time with his words. “We’ll see.”

You didn’t even have a chance to look back at Taehyung before Jimin was leading you through the crowd around the table and across the foyer. Hopefully he couldn’t hear how hard your heart was beating in your chest. You’d be lying if you said that Park Jimin wasn’t attractive. That his voice didn’t make you want to hear what it would sound like panting in your ear. The thought had your cheeks flushing, but you barely had time to let it permeate your mind. Jimin must have found a spot on the packed dance floor, because he turned to face you.

Maybe it was the lack of lights that made his eyes spark, or perhaps it was the challenge that simmered in the air between the two of you like an unlit spark. Whatever it was, Jimin’s hands found your waist and he pulled you in close until your hips met his. Your hands instinctively flew to his chest. He was warm and his sweater was soft beneath your palms as you slowly slid them upwards to lightly lock your arms around his neck.

It was either a blessing or a curse that had the song fading out into one that was more sensual. You would put money on the former, especially when his plush lips brushed against the shell of your ear.

“Show me what you got.” His words were completely unnecessary, since your hips had already begun swaying in time with the tempo.

Park Jimin must have been a dancer. That was the only excuse you could think up that proved how he moved. Like it was second nature, like his body had a mind of its own. One of his hands slid up your side until it rested right beneath your breast, and a leg found itself slipping between both of yours. The group of people dancing behind you didn’t even register on your radar; you were too busy focusing on the thick muscle of his thigh.

His hands angled your hips until you were grinding up right against it. You couldn’t help the gasp that escaped you when he tensed his thigh right in time for you to grind against it. It sent a jolt of pleasure through you so suddenly that your nails gripped his shoulders in surprise. When you didn’t pull back or push him away, he took that as a sign to do it again.

That time you were expecting it, but that didn’t make it any less pleasurable. Pulling your bottom lip between your teeth was the only thing you could do to stop the sound that threatened to leave your throat. Dancing with someone you’d just met shouldn’t feel like that, shouldn’t make you imagine what it would be like if the two of you were alone.

Eyes closed, you let yourself get lost in the music and the feel of Jimin’s body. You couldn’t even blame the alcohol for the heat that simmered between your legs. Sweat made his dark hair stick to his forehead, and despite this, it was silky beneath your fingers as you gripped it. Ran your fingertips through the damp strands while his warm breath caressed the side of your neck.

You didn’t know how long the two of you danced, didn’t care to keep track.

The soft press of his lips to your neck had you tilting your head back for him. Your mouth parted as he kissed his way upwards. Once he reached where your jaw met your neck, he caught your skin between his teeth. As he sucked the sting of the pain away, you could practically feel the hickey beginning to bruise. But you didn’t mind. You were sure that if someone were to look over at the two of you, they’d see another couple getting handsy in the middle of the dance floor.

Not knowing who initiated it, one second Jimin’s lips were on your neck and the next they were on yours. Soft. That was the first and only word to pierce through the fog in your mind. The second was that holy shit he was a good kisser. Novice was not a word that you would use to describe him. And when his tongue parted your lips and slipped into your mouth to caress your own, you were consumed by all things Park Jimin.

The music, the heat of the crowd, the smell of beer, it all faded away until all you knew was the taste of his mouth. His teeth when they caught your bottom lip as he slowly pulled away before coming back for more.

“Your place?” You barely managed to mumble against his lips. And you knew it was sudden, knew you barely even knew him beyond his name, but your desire for him demanded to be addressed now.

“You sure?” Jimin’s voice was coated in lust, huskier than it had been when the two of you were just playing beer pong. His question, spoken between kisses, brought a smile to your face. Even in the heat of the moment, he was sweet.

But what you needed wasn’t sweet.

Your teeth caught his ear. “I want you.”

With one last press of his lips to yours, Jimin pulled away and his half-lidded coffee eyes met yours. They were glazed over, but not with the alcohol that flowed through his veins. He held your gaze, clearly searching for something before he found it. “C’mon.”

And as he led the way through the crowded bodies and towards the front door, you could have safely said that any and all thoughts of Taehyung were long gone from your mind.

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