#oh to meet your love after a thousand years at a museum exhibit of your past lives | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sope-and-shine · 3 years

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Written In the Stars: Finale

-> SFW // Soulmate!AU // fluff, // Mummy!Namjoon, Moon Goddess!Taehyung

-> Pairing: Namjoon x Reader // Taehyung x Reader

-> Word Count: 7k

-> Summary: Life after losing a loved one is challenging, especially when you’ve had the chance to see just how long the two of you have spent passing each other by. With it only being a few weeks since your loss, you’ve found your life has become dull and despondent. You can’t help but wonder if you’ll be able to move on, even with the help of friends.

-> Warning(s): mild language

a/n: I can’t believe we’re actually at the end 😭😭 I’ve put so much time and love into this story and I’m both sad and happy that I’ve been able to finish it! I hope everyone enjoys!

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Masterlist

“Ma’am, where’s the restroom?”

You turn and see a father holding a small boy in his arms, and you immediately jump into action, “Take a right out of these doors, down the hall until you see the blue traffic sign, and it’ll be on the right. There should be a Daffodil portrait on the wall right before your turn.”

The man heaves a happy - very relieved - sigh, “Thank you!”

“Of course!” You watch as he speedwalks out of the exhibit and takes off down the hall. You can only hope he actually makes it there.

The day shift has definitely been more exciting. It’s only been a few weeks, but your days have been filled with more excitement since you switched. You tried to continue with the night shift post, but the silence just became too overwhelming. Thankfully, Hoseok seemed to understand when you told him.

You switched back to the day shift in hopes it would help to take your mind off of Namjoon. You thought being surrounded by others would make you feel less lonely, but you can’t help but think about how your life has changed so drastically.

Adjusting to your new life hasn’t been easy. Everywhere you look, you’re reminded of Namjoon. You hear his laugh by the water fountains, you see his hair in crowds on the street, and you can still feel his arms around you at night as you lay in bed.

At first, you thought it was something you could handle. You thought if you embraced his goodbye, then you’d be content to live the rest of your life without him. But no one told you losing love would hurt this bad.

You’ve tried to do other things, like knitting and working out, but you’re not very good at either one - nor do you really like them. Cooking had seemed like a good idea until you realized that meant cleaning the dishes. With every attempt to move on, you seem to take 3 large steps back.

You find yourself going to places Namjoon would have liked. Spontaneous trips to the park lead to long evenings by the river. Extra hours at the museum have you wandering through the exhibits just to look at the art one more time. Even a quick trip to the store has you buying things you’ve never thought to try.

The one place you never go is the King’s exhibit. At least, not of your own free will. It’s only happened twice - once being today - because someone had to call out. And just like the time before, you find yourself at the aquarium.

A place where Namjoon was truly happy.

The touch tanks have quickly become a favorite of yours. They allow you time to think to yourself and drift off, to daydream about a handsome king with an endearing fascination for the world around him.

You like to visit the crabs the most. Mostly because you know Namjoon would if he could. He thought they were the cutest on your outing together, and holding the tiny creature in your palm you can see why.

“Ow!” You flinch at the small pinch from the crustacean. Your hands jerk, but you try to protect the crab the best you can without dropping it.

“Here-” A large hand reaches in front of you and plucks the crab from your hands, “These guys get a little finicky when you hold them up too high.”

You place your thumb over the pinch and turn to him, “Really? I can’t-” You pause mid-sentence.

Now, looking at the crab’s savior, you see him. Lilac strands poke out of the blue university hat he’s wearing. His khaki shorts are worn and just barely reach his knees, and his sneakers are all worn out. Even the socks he’s wearing have slightly lost their vibrance. His baggy t-shirt doesn’t hide the fact that he’s more fit than he was a few weeks ago, but a few weeks ago he had disappeared right in front of you. But there’s no mistaking that dimpled smile.

This is Namjoon.

You stare at him like a deer in headlights, and you must look exactly how you feel because his smile turns to concern, “Are you okay?” He asks.

You nod, “Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine…” You’re not. You’re absolutely stunned and he doesn’t seem to recognize you. They do say everyone in the world has 4 people that look just like them. How unfortunate that you’ve found his. “You just...look really familiar.”

“Really? Well, I guess that means I have a memorable face then.” He muses, chuckling to himself - Exactly like Namjoon. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” You take another selfish moment to look at him, admiring how gentle he is with the small creature in his hands. “You really seem to like the crabs.”

“Yeah, I do!” He nods enthusiastically, “I really only applied here as an excuse to play in the touch tanks.”

“Something easy to wind down from classes?” You ask.

His eyes widen in surprise, and he turns to you as if you suddenly grew 2 extra heads, “How’d you know?”

You giggle, “You’re wearing a university hat with your grad year.”

“Really?!” You nod and he pulls the cap off of his head, letting out a frustrated groan when he confirms he’s wearing his university hat, “No wonder my supervisor straight up ignored me this morning. This is the third time this month I’ve grabbed the wrong one.”

“At least it’s a nice hat.” You assure him, trying to remain positive.

He places the cap back on his head and sighs, “Tell that to him.” He brings the small crab still resting in his palms eye level, “This little guy knows exactly what I’m talking about. Don’t you, buddy?”

“Don’t tell me you speak crab.”

“Of course I do! You just have to know how to listen.” He says matter of factly.

“Alright then. Ask him how he’s doing.”

“I will.” He turns to the crab and stares at it as if they’re having a staring contest, “How are you feeling, little guy?” He moves the crab up to his ear and acts as though it’s whispering to him, nodding and humming disagreement, “I see...I’d be pretty frightened too.”

You narrow your eyes, “What did he say?”

“He said he was having a great day until someone came and held him up too high.” He teases.

“You’re taller than me!” You argue.

He looks you up and down, nodding, “You’re right…” He seems to contemplate for a moment before he shrugs with a sly smile, “He probably just likes me better.”

“Oh, really now?” You challenge. He nods proudly and you scoff, “Well, what’s your name? Resident Crab Whisperer?”

“No! That’s way too long.” He laughs. He extends the hand not cradling a crab towards you and smiles, “My name is Kim Namjoon.”

“Well…” You hesitate, trying your best not to react. You swallow your nerves and shake his hand with a smile of your own, “-It’s nice to meet you, Kim Namjoon. Any relation to the mummy at the museum?”

“That hopeless romantic from the Seoul Museum?” He jokes. He takes this moment to place the crab back into his touch tank, “Yeah, he’s like a great-great-super great uncle or something like that.”

“Well, you look like him.” You say. He gives you a confused look and you’re quick to back-pedal, “His portraits! You look like his portraits.”

“I do?” He asks.

“Besides the purple hair, I’d say you’re the spitting image.”

“I’ll have to check it out myself then.”

“Well, their hours are 8am to 10pm Monday through Saturday and 12pm to 6pm on Sunday.” He gives you a pointed look and you shrug, “I’ve been the night guard the past few years. I just switched to day shift.”

“Really?!” He asks in disbelief, “Isn’t it creepy working the graveyard shift? It must be way too quiet.”

“Not really.” You think back to the nights you spent with your Namjoon and how he made you laugh. You remember asking him the same thing one Saturday night after the museum closed. You two were much closer than his first Sunday there, but you couldn’t help but worry about how he must get through the night alone. But Namjoon was a king. He wasn’t worried about a bit of peace and quiet. “A friend of mine once told me that silence is more reassuring than anything. It means peace.”

“They sound wise.”

“He was...” You can’t help but think about Namjoon’s absence.

This always happens when you think about any good times you may have had, remembering how much fun you had and how you’ll likely never have it again. Being in front of this Namjoon does nothing to help you feel at ease.

“You know that movie-?! It’s-Oh...What was it called…?” The lilac-haired Namjoon suddenly claps his hands together with a proud smile, “Night at the Museum! Anything like that happen after hours?”

You chuckle to yourself, knowing better than anyone how Ben Stiller’s character felt during that movie. Of course, the Namjoon in front of you would never believe you, “I wish. It’d make some of the exhibits a lot more interesting.”

He nods, “I bet they’d be pretty interactive too…Could you imagine history telling itself?!”

“Please, I don’t want to hear about the love-life of a thousand-year-old mummy.” You joke, knowing full well you already have.

“Yeah, I guess that would get annoying after a while...always lamenting about love and what-not…” He seems slightly disappointed, but his smile comes right back, “Why don’t you let me show you around and I’ll tell you about our exhibits instead?”

You’re taken aback by his boldness, “Oh, are you sure?” He nods, “I don’t want to get you in trouble or anything.”

“Don’t worry about it! My shift ended like 30 minutes ago and this place is only open for another 3 hours.” He assures you, “So, what do you say?”

Maybe it’s because he’s the spitting image of Namjoon, or maybe it’s the similarities in their personas. Maybe it’s just the way his dimples appear every time he laughs and his laugh sounds just like his. No matter what it is that’s drawing you to this Namjoon, you find that your heart has taken over for your brain and it’s putty in his hands, “Sure. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Namjoon breaks into an excited grin, dimples on full display, “That’s the spirit!” He straightens his posture and holds his arm out for you as if he were a butler or an escort, “From here until the aquarium closes, consider me your personal tour guide for the rest of the evening. There won’t be a bench you haven’t sat on by the time we’re done!”

He’s confident.

But perhaps he’s too confident…

He takes you to places you’ve been before, educating you on every animal in great detail. He doesn’t miss a single species, and he takes great care to make sure you see what he’s talking about - guiding your head and pointing in the right direction. His enthusiasm is infectious, and you could listen to him talk for hours. He’s so well-spoken, and he describes everything in such wonderful detail. It comes as no surprise to you when he mentions himself to be a literature major.

He has such a unique personality and the most terrible humor. He tells you about his bike and how much he enjoys riding by the river and through the park. He tells you about his love for moon jelly and how it’s like looking up at the sky when you see them. Everything about him is just so uniquely him, but you can’t help but see all of the similarities he holds to your Namjoon.

His physical features are all the same: his eyes, his nose, his lips, his dimples, his height, and even his haircut! There’s no doubt that this Namjoon would look identical to your Namjoon if his hair were the same dark brown. His interest in the Moon and his love of literature. Your Namjoon would have excelled academically in this world just like this Namjoon. Even his love of small creatures and terribly out-of-date dad jokes is exactly the same!

He’s Namjoon.

But he doesn’t hold the memories of your Namjoon…

Taehyung had told you how Fate had tried to warn him several times. How Fate couldn’t change what would happen, and she could only hope to guide everyone to the best outcome without ruining the future herself. But how cruel could Fate be to have another Namjoon this close to you yet not be yours. To thrust this on you so soon without even a few months to grieve more.

How could someone be so heartless?

---

“And this would be the last bench of our tour.” Namjoon says as you exit the aquarium, extending an arm as he presents it to you.

“Oh wow...” You thank him and take a seat, playing along with his charade - as you have all night - as you pretend to admire the bench. You admire the dedication plaque for just a moment before you turn to him in mock disappointment, “I thought you said we’d see everything on this tour?”

He shrugs, “I may have rambled here and there...” He seems almost sheepish as he realizes how he went on and on over every topic the two of you talked about, “Sorry about that.”

“No worries here.” You assure him. You’d take 5 more tours just to listen to him ramble on and on for hours, “Now I know that fish talk through make sounds by vibrating their muscles against their bladder. Pretty weird, but I wouldn’t know that if you hadn’t told me.”

“Well, I’m glad I could educate you a bit.” He seems nervous, shoving his hands into his pockets as he shifts from one foot to the other, “Maybe we can do this again?”

“Uh…” You hesitate, “Yeah. Maybe.”

It’s just a tour. No harm in that.

“Maybe...I could take you to dinner too?” He asks.

There’s some harm in that.

He already seems nervous so you try to find the right words to say, “Oh, I-” But your face seems to give you away way too easily.

“You’re not interested.”

“No-!”

“It’s okay! I get it, I understand.”

“No, you don’t.” You stand up and try to explain, but he seems to already have your rejection in his mind.

“No, please, don’t feel like you have to. I’ve been told I can be a bit pushy.”

“No, that’s really not it! I’d love to go to dinner with you!”

That seems to catch his attention.

“Really?”

You nod, “Yeah! Just not now, or like-...anytime soon.”

The last of Namjoon’s hope turns into skepticism, “Are you sure you’re not just saying that?”

“I know how it sounds, but please-!” You stop yourself before you can blurt out the wrong thing and scare him off entirely, “I lost someone really special to me recently. His loss hasn’t been easy for me, and I don’t want to jump into something too soon. I don’t think that’d be fair to you if I’m still hung up on someone else.”

“Oh wow...I’m really sorry about that.” You thank him and take a moment to breathe, holding yourself back from the tears that want to break free, “I went through a loss not too long ago too! You’re taking the right steps, and I appreciate you thinking about my feelings.”

You smile, “Of course! Everyone deserves that.”

“Well, no dinner then, but maybe another tour next weekend? Same time?” He asks, “Strictly hanging out though. No dinner.”

You nod, “I’d love that.”

“Then it’s a date!” He says excitedly. Though, as soon as the words leave his mouth he’s stepping over himself to correct what he’d said, “Not a date! Absolutely not a date. No, ma’am.”

You can’t help but smile fondly at how endearing he is, “I can’t wait.”

You squeeze the strap of the bag on your shoulder with one hand and wave with the other, turning and departing from the current Namjoon. Maybe in time, you can fall in love with this Namjoon for who he is and not because he reminds you of your Namjoon. At that point, then this lilac-haired, crab-loving, literature enthusiast would be your Namjoon.

You can only hope that day comes sooner rather than later.

“So, that’s it then?”

“I’m sorry?” You turn around confused, only about 50 feet away.

“I can’t believe you’re just going to be nice to this me, but not the one that waited 1,000 years for you!” He explains.

You’re so confused that it takes a second to grasp what this Namjoon is saying, and then it hits you. This Namjoon isn’t just any Namjoon.

He’s your Namjoon.

King Kim Namjoon.

The Hopeless Romantic from the Seoul Museum of Art and History.

“Namjoon…?” You ask. You know it’s him, you’re confident. But it still seems like it’s way too good to be true.

He nods, “It’s me.”

In an instant, you’re running towards him. You fling yourself into his awaiting arms and squeeze him as tight as humanly possible, burying your face into his neck as the tears begin to form in your eyes. You let your hands thread through his soft, purple locks and allow yourself to relax with his arms squeezing around your waist.

You bask in this overwhelming feeling of being whole again. You feel light and complete for the first time in weeks and it fills you with so much joy that you can hardly contain yourself. The embrace feels like that first kiss all over again, and you just never want to let him go.

As you calm down and you come to realize that Namjoon isn’t going anywhere, you pull away just enough so you can see his own tear-stained face. His cheeks are red and his eyes are puffy, but his smile is unmistakable with those gorgeous dimples of his.

Looking at him, it’s now that you realize…

He remembered you this whole time.

You smack his chest - not enough to hurt him, but enough so he knows you mean business - and he flinches, “How dare you play with me like this, Namjoon? Do you know how hard the past few weeks have been for me?!”

“I’m sorry!” He apologizes. He runs his hands up and down your sides affectionately, trying to keep you close - and not angry with him, “Trust me when I say this wasn’t easy for me either.”

As much as you would love to be mad with him for pretending he didn’t know you, you can’t. You’re just happy he’s here more than anything. But that still begs the question, “How are you here?”

“I’m not supposed to say much, but I can tell you the other deities had a few tricks up their sleeves.” He explains. He takes a moment to admire your features and leans down to press a kiss to your temple, “But I think most of the thanks needs to go to Taehyung.”

Your eyes widen in shock, “You know about him?!”

He nods, “It was a shock, but he and the other deities explained everything.” He pulls you closer and uses a hand to cup your face, “They gave me a whole life to share with you.”

You lean into his touch, but you’re still reeling from everything that’s happened in such a short time, “And you just remember everything?”

“They gave me the memories back.” He corrects. He’s so close now and you want nothing more than to start where the two of you had left off before you broke the spell, “I guess Fate had a backup plan for him.”

“Thank Fate for that.” You say before giving in to your temptation and pulling your soulmate in for a much needed, long-awaited, proper kiss

* *

“You wanted to see me?”

You look up from your paperwork to see Taehyung standing in your doorway, wearing his favorite emerald 3 piece suit. His fist is raised to the door frame as if he knocked just before he spoke. You must not have heard him.

You wave him in, “Yeah, come in! I’m just finishing up with this finance report.” You expect him to come right in, but he seems hesitant to do so. “Are you okay?”

“Am I not in trouble?” He asks.

Your brow raises in confusion, “Why would you be in trouble?”

“Well, Jimin said-'' Taehyung stops. He remembers the other day after work when he’d come home to Jimin and Jeongguk, going at it in the kitchen for the 4th time in 2 weeks. He’d thought it would be funny to dump water on them - and so had Guk - but the Earth deity had apparently been unamused. Of course, him being the pettiest individual he would settle for a payback that would absolutely scare him. He sits in the chair across from you and throws one leg over the other, “Nevermind. I know what happened.”

You chuckle, “Well, I have a surprise for you. That’s why I asked for you.”

“Oh, really?!” He’s definitely surprised, “What is it?”

“Well-” You move your finance report to the paper organizer on your desk, grab your bag at your feet, and stand up, “-why don’t show you?”

He uncrosses his legs and stands, “We’re going somewhere?”

You nod, “If you’re up for it.” You hold your hand out for him, an action that’s become normal between the two of you.

He takes your hand and you both exit your office together, leaving the human way. You make your way downstairs hand-in-hand, passing patrons that still roam the halls or meander up and down the stairs taking pictures to their heart's content. It all makes you feel human, and feeling human makes you feel happy.

On your way through the lobby, you catch sight of Eunha talking to another security guard. She’d made a request to switch shifts, and you made sure to have Hoseok take over her position under the guise of someone else. She looks happier, but you know better. Thankfully, her shift will be over in a few more hours.

“She’s pretty strong.” Taehyung comments, seeming to already know what you’re thinking. “I talked to her this morning and at lunch. She’s holding it together.”

You manage half a smile, “That’s good.”

Seokjin spots you walking together as you get closer to the exit and his smile widens, “Goodnight, (Y/n)! Goodnight, Taehyung!”

“Have a good night, Seokjin!” You respond, offering a small nod.

“See you tomorrow!” Taehyung waves. Seokjin gives him an indiscreet wink and you pretend you don’t see it even when Taehyung gives him an even more obvious wink back.

You playfully bump him with your hip and he pulls you with him, raising your joined hands above your head and resting them on your opposite shoulder. You squeeze as tight as you can together to fit through the door frame and out to the open air.

“I heard you promoted him.” Taehyung mentions as you make your descent down the large staircase.

You shrug, “There was an opening available.”

“Was there?” He asks, nudging you with his elbow.

You nod, “Yes. There was.” You nudge him back.

“Are you sure~?” The blonde asks again, “I’d hate to see you fall victim to those silly human emotions~”

You let out an exasperated sigh, “Oh, you are something else!” You drop his hand and rush two steps ahead of him, but he’s right behind you.

“I’m just looking out for you!” He defends. He rushes down the steps to the bottom before you make it to the last step and he puts his hands out to stop you, “We wouldn’t want to upset the council, would we?”

“I think you’ve done enough angering the council to cover me.” You remind him, poking his nose with your pointer finger, “Besides, maybe I want to get under their skin.”

“All of them? Or someone specific?” He asks, already knowing the answer.

You sigh, “I’m not saying Seowoo deserves it, but that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“I can’t argue with that.” He agrees. He looks both ways down the sidewalk, “Which way?”

“This way.” You point towards the side of the museum where the street light is out, the darkness wrapping around the corner and making the perfect disappearing point.

You take his hand and together you both walk into the shadows, walking into the darkest section of the sidewalk before disappearing at the corner. You round the trunk of a cherry willow, a sliver of distant light shining through the drooping branches.

Taehyung runs his thumb over your hand and stops, “Are you wearing rings?” He pulls back to check and does a double-take when he sees you in the dim light, “Why’d you change?”

“We’re at a university.” You explain. You’ve changed from your work clothes to a university sweatshirt and a pair of jeans, “I’d rather look like a student than a teacher. You should probably change too.”

“Oh...sure.” In his own fashion, he changes into a white shirt under a baggy, light beige sweater vest, a pair of jeans, and orange converse. He looks himself over once before fashioning a pair of gold-rimmed glasses to finish his look. “Where are we?”

“Eunha’s college.”

Taehyung’s eyes widen in surprise, “Why are we here? She’s still at work.”

“I want you to meet a friend of mine.” You explain.

“You have friends?” He asks, earning an unamused glare from you, “Sorry.”

“This way.” You lead Taehyung off the grass to the actual path and walk under the lights back towards the main building. When you reach a fork in the path you make a left to go around the side of the building between another series of buildings on the other side of the path. You keep walking until you reach another large area with benches, tables, and a fountain.

Sitting on the side of the fountain with just enough light that you can see them, is a trio of 3 men with different hair colors. One with midnight blue, a pastel pink, and lilac. Of course, you recognize them all without a problem at all.

“Hey, guys! Sorry, I’m late, I just had to grab Taehyung.” You call out.

The pastel pink head turns to reveal Hoseok - who’s changed from his normal all-black outfit to a black t-shirt with the word obey in colorful letters, bright orange pants, layered necklaces, and a pair of black, yellow-tinted glasses resting on the top of his head, “No worries, we haven’t gotten started yet.”

“Yeah, Joon was just telling us about the assignment we missed.” Yoongi agrees, revealing himself to be the midnight blue head of hair. He’s wearing an all blue, leaf-patterned outfit with a TuneSquad jersey underneath his top.

“You wouldn’t have missed it if you made it to class on time!” Taehyung freezes as soon as he hears his voice, pulling you to a stop as well. He knows that voice better than anyone, knowing damn well it belongs to someone that’s supposed to be dead.

Hoseok shrugs and leans back, “What can I say? I had priorities to attend to.”

“I just wasn’t interested.” Yoongi stands up and takes a few steps to stretch, revealing Namjoon sitting at the end of the three.

Namjoon is wearing a pair of light wash jeans and a black belt with a white shirt tucked in and a light blue button-up over it. He sighs, “How you have the highest marks in the class I will never know.”

Taehyung looks between the three of them, going back and forth between the two deities and Namjoon before settling on you, “What is going on right now?”

You squeeze his hand, “Just don’t say anything.” You pull him with you to join the others, coming to a stop in front of all of them. You point to the blonde and then to Hoseok, “Taehyung, this is Hoseok-”

The walking gumball throws up a peace sign, “Sup.”

“-Yoongi.”

“Hey.” He gives a small wave

“-And Namjoon.”

Namjoon is the only one to stand and walk up to Taehyung to offer his hand, “Nice to finally meet you.”

“Finally?” He asks, shaking the old king’s hand.

“(Y/n) hasn’t been able to shut up about you,” Namjoon explains with a devious smile. You visibly freeze and that only eggs him on more, “She said you were annoying when she first transferred into our class, then she said she thought she was in love with you.”

Taehyung gives you a look and you completely ignore him, “Namjoon!”

“Of course, we all knew she was,” Hoseok adds with a teasing smile of his own.

“Hoseok! Shut up!”

“How interesting.” Taehyung chuckles, happy to know how you feel even as you pretend you don’t exist, “Well, it’s nice to meet all of you.”

“Why don’t we all move this way? Maybe grab a bite to eat?” You suggest, hoping to move on from your own embarrassment.

“Yes!” Hoseok jumps up and throws his arms in the air before dropping them back down to his sides, “I’m starving!”

Yoongi scoffs, “You’re always starving...”

“I’m growing. I need sustenance.” Hoseok defends, patting his stomach for emphasis.

You walk up beside him and pat the back of his head, “I think all of that food is going right to your head.”

Hoseok looks like a kicked puppy and Namjoon sweeps into his defense, “C’mon, guys, don’t pick on him!”

“Yeah! Don’t pick on me!” He pouts, crossing his arms.

“He can’t help it if he loses brain cells without food,” Namjoon says, turning and grabbing his belongings while you and Yoongi laugh at Hoseok’s expense.

“Do you want me to swear at you?!” The poor god of Death looks absolutely appalled and utterly betrayed by the lilac-haired man. He huffs, “You children have no respect for your elders.”

“Can I quote you on that?” Yoongi asks, walking past Hoseok to grab his own bag.

“Absolutely not!”

Taehyung watches the dysfunctional chaos before him, in awe that the 3 pillars of balance could act like humans. Not just with each other, but with someone he himself once called a friend. You’re all so different than you are at the museum and the council meetings, it’s like you’re not even the same people.

“Tae?” You ask, pulling him out of his confused state. You hold your hand out to him, asking him to join you as the others continue to walk ahead. He accepts.

The 5 of you walk together, further away from the buildings on campus to the fence that lines the end of the property. You all forego the sidewalk for walking across the lawn, getting further away from the lights as you go.

Hoseok comes to a stop in the middle of the grass and Taehyung almost walks into him, “Do you think this is far enough?”

Yoongi looks around and shrugs, “I don’t think anyone will notice.”

“Notice what?” Taehyung asks.

“Way to sound like we brought him here to murder him.” Namjoon jokes.

“Namjoon. Hold my hand.” You say, dropping Taehyung’s for his.

Hoseok and Yoongi hold hands across from you and Namjoon laughs, “Oh, are we having that seance now?” He looks at Taehyung and winks, “Sorry, I guess we forgot to mention this part.”

“Just hold my hand.” You demand. He does and Hoseok takes his other, creating a chain between the 4 of you.

Yoongi takes a deep breath and sighs, “Alright, let’s do it.”

You and Hoseok nod in agreement and Namjoon nods as well, acting as though what you’re all doing is just a practical joke you hadn’t let him in on. It’s only when a soft golden light starts to travel between your hands and to him that he starts to get worried.

“What are you guys doing?” He asks, fearful of what’s going on. He tries to pull away, but you and Hoseok are much stronger than the poor human. The light only continues to grow brighter, and the brighter it glows the more concerned Namjoon becomes, “Guys-?!”

The light washes over him like a wave and it’s like someone has opened his eyes for the very first time again. He takes a deep breath, and then he’s looking around at the others and at himself and at Taehyung and it’s like he’s experiencing life for the first time all over again.

“How did-? But I thought-” He struggles to find the right words to say, unsure where to start, “What’s going on?”

You step in front of him, placing your hands on his shoulders, “Namjoon, I’d like to formally introduce myself. I’m (Y/n), and I’m Fate.”

His eyes widen, “Fate…?”

You nod and Hoseok pushes you out of the way to make his own introduction, “I’m Hoseok, but you’d know me better as Death.”

“You’re Death?” Namjoon asks, obviously not able to believe that someone like Hoseok could be something as dark and daunting as Death.

“Death equals mercy,” Hoseok explains. Both you and Yoongi push him from both sides and he chuckles, “Sometimes…”

Namjoon nods, not yet believing it but going along with the information anyways. He turns to Yoongi, “Does that make you Life?”

“Was it my sunny disposition that gave me away?” The blue-haired deity asks, earning a laugh from the king.

You move in front of Namjoon again and gently take his arm, “And this is Taehyung.” You pull him to where the blonde stands, still in shock, “You two have already met before, but you might remember him a bit differently.”

You place a hand over Taehyung’s head and down his front, revealing how he looked the very first time he had met with the king, “Jihye…”

“Hey.” Taehyung smiles sheepishly, waving shyly as his old appearance morphs back into his college boy disguise, “It’s been a while.”

They both just stare at each other, one nervous and the other in disbelief. Taehyung can’t help but think of all the things Namjoon could want to say to him. How disappointed he is. How upset he must be. It comes as no surprise to anyone when Namjoon moves forward and pulls Taehyung into a hug. His arms cross behind his head and he pulls Taehyung as close as humanly possible without hurting him, “I’ve missed you.”

His words are like a breath of fresh air and Taehyung finds himself relaxing into the embrace and holding his friend back just as tight, “I’ve missed you too…”

It’s a special moment, one Taehyung never thought he would get. His first friend is back and it’s thanks to 3 very unlikely people.

“Why didn’t you come to see me after the spell worked?” Namjoon asks, pulling away.

Taehyung looks down, slightly ashamed, “I didn’t want to mess up again.”

“Again?”

“Like the first time. We’d been so close, but even if I had made it work you still would have-” He stops. He doesn’t need to say it. Not when everyone already knows what he’s going to say.

“But I thought once we broke the spell I’d have to wait until my next life?” Namjoon asks, reiterating what both he and Eunha had put together.

“Technically, this is your next life.” Yoongi mentions.

Life’s revelation comes as a shock to both Namjoon and Taehyung, “What?”

“You were supposed to meet in this life, but because you two just had to make it happen sooner-” Yoongi makes sure to glare so hard in Taehyung’s direction that his planet might even shiver, “-the spell tore your soul away from this one and placed it with your previous body once the spell took hold again.”

“With the spell broken, we were able to put your soul back in this body and merge them together.” You explain. The 3 of you have been sitting on this plan for weeks, and you’ve carefully crafted a friendship with this Namjoon since his soul left his previous body just to ensure you’d be able to make this change happen altogether.

“You’ve been able to do this the whole time? Why didn’t you say anything?!” Taehyung asks, completely shocked. You give him this ‘are you kidding me right now' look and he seems to get the hint, “Right. Fate’s strings…multiple outcomes.”

“I can’t believe this…I can’t wait to tell Eunha.” The modern king is still entranced with himself like he’s never looked at his body before. And then his words hit him and he realizes that Eunha isn’t here and has no idea that he’s alive, “I have to go see her right now-!”

He turns to take off in a sprint and Hoseok places himself in front of him with a hand on his chest, “Not so fast, deadman.”

“Huh?”

Yoongi groans, “You cannot just go hunting her down.” He’d spent far too much time conversing with young adults and various incompetent professors just for this plan to work and he was not going to let it all boil down to nothing.

Namjoon however, doesn’t understand exactly what’s at stake, “Why not? I need to tell her I’m alive and that I’m okay!”

“The magic that brought you back is still fragile. If you go to her now then the whole thing could blow up in all of our faces!” Hoseok explains in his own, dramatic fashion.

“So, what? I’m supposed to just wait?!” The king asks in disbelief.

“It will happen as Fate allows.” You remind him, “You’ve waited this long for a miracle, I think you can wait just a bit more.”

Your words are simple and still just as cryptic as always, but they put him at ease and bring him back to his senses. He nods, “Right…”

“Geez, why couldn’t you have been that easy?” Yoongi says, turning to Taehyung.

The blonde scoffs, “I am easy!”

Hoseok laughs, “I don’t think you actually know what that means.”

Taehyung crosses his arms, “I’m doing my best, okay?”

“Well, now that we got all of that settled-” Hoseok claps his hands together loudly and rubs them together, “-let’s go get some grub.”

Yoongi turns to Hoseok in disbelief and hits his arm, “Are you serious, right now? You don’t need to eat to survive!” The blue-haired deity reminds him.

“But Namjoon does! I’m sure Namjoon would love a nice warm meal.” Hoseok turns to the poor human with a look that resembles a kicked puppy and it’s like they’ve gone back to being undercover again.

“I wouldn’t mind a bite to eat I guess?” Namjoon caves, the god of Death breaking into celebration while the god of Life can only sigh in disappointment, “If we go to that one place downtown we can order drinks at the student price.”

The offer of a few beers seems to peak Yoongi’s interest much more than a measly human meal, “Hoseok gets to pay for everything.”

Hoseok shrugs, “I don’t care. It’s not like I can’t create my own money.”

He turns to get back on track for the gate to leave campus and Namjoon trails after him, “Wait you can do that?! How does that even work?”

“Oh, don’t get him started. Just blame magic like every other human and let’s get to the bus before it leaves.” Yoongi calls out, starting at a slower pace behind them. They leave you and Taehyung to take the back of the group, the both of you trudging along at a slow pace behind them.

“So, are you going back to your duties now that everything is done?” Taehyung asks. A part of him hopes that you’ll stick around or maybe even come to visit him on his own planet, but he knows that you have your own duties to attend to.

But you’ve thought about this as well. You knew that once Namjoon’s memories were merged and he’d be left to go and find Eunha on his own, that you’d be free to go back to how you were before this fiasco started. But things are different now. Now, you have Taehyung who’s snuck his way into your heart and made you feel emotions that you’d left reserved for humans. He’s helped you understand how to feel without letting it interfere with your job, and you don’t want to let that go just yet.

You sigh, “You know, I don’t have a planet of my own. I really just drift freely within space when I’m not doing anything.” You kick at the dirt, “Maybe I could stay here on Earth. Do what humans do.”

He’s shocked, “You’re staying on earth?”

You shrug, “Yeah. I heard there’s this museum with this ancient mummy exhibit.” With a mischievous, all-knowing grin you ask, “Wanna go check it out sometime?”

Taehyung can’t help the smile that breaks out on his face. He takes his arm and wraps it over your shoulder, pulling you into his side, “I’d love to.”

You may not be able to look at your own future together, but at least you know that the both of you can do it together.

Maybe Hui was right.

Maybe for Fate, the future is written in the stars.

~ Thank you for reading ~

43 notes · View notes

poptod · 4 years

Text

Leeway (Ahkmenrah x Reader)

Description: Sometimes, you just need to feed the person you accidentally embalmed alive a lot of vodka. A LOT.

Notes: so this is a tad strange and i thought it would be fun to write so hello this exists now and im not apologizing for it this time. i do love how easy it is to tell who learned english in cambridge and who learned english from a crazy american though. fluff and humor, gender neutral, only warning is getting sick from drinking too much Word Count: 2.5k

Despite the popularity of the Egyptian exhibit in the museum, there was really only one hallway and one room for it. A hallway filled with smaller artifacts, and in the center of it all, Ahkmenrah's tomb. What with being the only ancient Egyptian in the whole of the museum, he was rather lonely – that made up one of the reasons for the new exhibit, but the main reason was a money grab.

Now, the new exhibit wasn't nearly as royal as Ahk's room. No massive guards, no rooms catered specifically to it, no hieroglyphs surrounding it. In fact it was the tomb of a servant – that's what historians categorized you as after seeing your wooden sarcophagus and the poor wrappings of your mummification. There was nothing but you in your tomb; no dolls, no artifacts, not even any pottery offerings. Ahkmenrah didn't know any of this, though – no, he was just excited to have someone who came from the same era. His thrill stemmed mainly from his fear of forgetting how to speak Egyptian. With you on your way, he could rid of that fear.

He was told of your exhibit about a day before you arrived, and throughout the whole of the waking night he thought of you. Who could you be? Maybe your times were a thousand years apart; Egypt did have a rather long rule, after all. There was also the chance you were from exactly his time, and part of him hoped that was to be.

The next evening he awoke giddy, a grin on his face from the moment he opened his eyes. A few minutes and Larry came to help him out, stripping off the remaining linen before standing tall, gold falling from his body as silk.

"Is the new exhibit here?" He asked immediately, eager to meet you.

"Yeah, this way," Larry said, guiding Ahk out of his room with a chuckle.

A bundle of nerves began to ache in his chest, begging him to hurry his step. He tried his best to keep calm, soon standing in front of an open archway, leading into a room filled with the broken down, dusty artifacts of his previous daily life. Shabti dolls came to life in glass cages, and beside all the shields and various weapons lay a rotted, wooden coffin. At the sight he frowned – there were no inscriptions on the coffin, not even a hint that they might've once been there. Without those inscriptions it was terribly hard to navigate the afterlife, but that wasn't his main problem at the moment.

The biggest issue was that you were rattling against the wood, moaning weakly from your first wake of the dead. Your coffin sat in a large, glass box, and as both Ahk and Larry realized that, Larry dug into his pocket for keys to open the box.

The moment the glass door opened, Ahk crammed himself inside, careful not to step on the bits of pottery as he knelt at your side. Gently he raised the lid, helping you sit up. Together you worked out of your wrappings, which fell to the bottom of the coffin, before the last of it came off, revealing your face.

"Wait a -"

"You!" You shouted, brows furrowed in a rage both Larry and Ahk rarely saw. Jabbing him in the chest with your finger, you glared him out of the box, following him as you stumbled onto the linoleum floor. "You're the guy who killed me!"

"Wait, what?" Larry said, his tone suddenly serious.

"I did not kill -"

"You fucking buried me alive, you son of a bitch! Do you know how painful it is to have all your organs removed for a damned embalming?!" You yelled as your face grew red, filled with the pressure of your anger.

"Okay, wait, wait –" Larry stood inbetween you two, but your eyes never left Ahk's rather terrified face. "First thing's first. How do you know English?"

"You think you guys get to be the first people insane enough to bring me to life? I lived in a sorcerer's home for ten years and he treated me better than you ever did," you said, aiming your venom at Ahk. Again. "I felt safer with him and he took off my arm and resewed it back on!"

"In my defense, I didn't know you were alive, alright?" Ahk tried defending himself, but you wouldn't hear it.

"You fucked up big time, buddy," you seethed, shoving your face right up against Ahk's. "I wasn't the goddamn murderer. The other one was."

"Oh. Oh, no," he said as the color drained from his face. "Shit, you were innocent?"

"Okay can someone tell me what the hell is going on here?!" Larry finally interjected, gaining both of your attentions.

"There was this, um, incident, while I was a prince," Ahk began, reluctant to tell. "A few murders had happened in the city, so the soldiers tracked down who they believed the murderer to be, but they were fighting with someone. Like, really bad. I was with them and there was quite a lot of blood."

"I would've won, too, if you let me," you grumbled bitterly.

"One of them claimed to be a famous poet, and the other one was unemployed. Obviously the murderer, but we couldn't tell the difference between the two," he continued, ignoring your remark. "There was this whole trial to figure out who was who. What – what was your penname again?"

"Siamun," you said.

"Right. Unfortunately, I guess we got the wrong one," he said rather blankly, regret plain on his face.

"And then he threw a spear at my chest, proclaimed me dead despite the fact that I was still breathing, and then they tore out all my goddamn organs," you finished for him, telling 'Larry' the rest of the story Ahk hesitated to mention.

"It wasn't a spear," Ahk said as though it mattered.

"Knife. Sharp pointy thing. I'm still pissed at you," you said, crossing your arms with great force.

Larry looked between the two of you for a moment before speaking.

"I think I know how to make you feel better," he said, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and leading you out of the room.

"I highly doubt that," you said quietly, sending one last seething glare over your shoulder at Ahk before you turned the corner, leaving him alone.

He almost cried – he rarely did, but this time was close. All that excitement for nothing. There was no way you'd be able to hold a conversation with him, which was fair, considering he didn't think he could hold a conversation with someone he wronged so deeply. The worst part was that he was quite the fan of your work, and it had been a long, long time since he'd been able to read or hear your words.

About an hour later he dragged himself to his feet with a weary sigh, slowly shuffling into the main room, where he could already hear music and the shouts of dancers and soccer players (for some reason). At the balcony he overlooked the whole of the crowd, eyes scanning over the jumping crowd till he found you sitting with Larry at the center globe. You had a bottle of some sort in hand, and from what he could tell, you were incredibly intoxicated. A new, sick hope sprouted in his head – maybe you'd be able to tolerate him while drunk. Strange thought, certainly, but not entirely improbable.

So, with that in mind, he headed down the steps, his cape floating down with him till he reached the crowd. Worming through the people, he made his way to stand on the other side of the help center desk.

"What did you do?" Ahk asked Larry, gesturing to you sitting on the office chair, spinning as fast as you could.

"I thought they could use some loosening up," Larry answered with a shrug. Ahk frowned.

"That's... what did you give them?"

"Hmm? Oh, just some vodka the previous night guards stored in Rexy's mouth," he said, nodding pleasantly.

"Isn't vodka ten times more powerful than our beer?"

"I hadn't really thought of that," Larry said with his hands on his hips, looking to you for a moment before returning to Ahk.

Once you stopped propelling yourself, your chair stopped spinning, and your smile quickly dissipated into a pale face as sickness overcame you. With lopsided eyes you tried standing, balancing the bulk of your weight on the desk. You gagged on your own tongue.

"That's no good," Ahk muttered under his breath, circling the desk till he stood beside you, wrapping an arm over your shoulder. "I'll take them to the bathroom."

"I think I'm going to throw up," you slurred, leaning into Ahk.

"Thought so. Let's hurry now," he said as he took you through the crowd, feeling thankful that the bathrooms weren't a floor above you. No, they were just to the side, and soon he was holding your hair as you hurled into the porcelain toilet.

You shivered despite the room being warm, and Ahk recognized it as tremors brought about by pain. He winced when you gagged, nothing but acid coming out as you moaned, white knuckles trying to find purchase on the tile floor.

"You.. what's your name?" You asked weakly, your voice rough from acid staining the back of your throat.

"... Naguib," he said after a moment of thought. He wasn't sure if you would remember his name, but he preferred to stay safe, and took his servant's name.

"You're being.. thank you," you mumbled, immediately gagging again afterwards. Nothing came out.

"Of course," he said softly, moving his hands to rub at your tense shoulders. You hummed, unable to move from your spot without feeling intensely sick.

"You're from Egypt, too, aren't you?" You said, tilting your head onto your arm to meet his eye.

"Yes," he confirmed. "Same time period."

"God, I miss it sometimes. Don't you?" You whispered, barely able to find the energy to keep speaking.

"It can get very lonely. That's why I'm glad you're here," he said with a small smile, making you close your eyes and offer your own soft, barely-there smile. "Do you mind speaking Egyptian with me?"

"Sure," you answered in the language he'd been longing to hear from a mouth other than his own.

"So... what was life like for you back then?" He asked despite knowing of most of your exploits (and accidentally being part of the final one. Death.).

"I was a scribe, didn't work for the King though. Didn't really want to. I liked his son, though. Nice guy except for when he stabbed me," you grumbled, your eyes half lidded. He flinched at your last words.

"What did you write of?"

"The world," you said with a weak smirk. "Poetry. Lots of it."

"Really?" He said, keeping his voice soft to soothe you. "Could you share some?"

"Maybe if I remember what I wrote," you replied with a snort. "Been a whole fuckin' while since then."

Wow, you swear a lot, Ahk found himself thinking blankly, watching you tremble and try to keep yourself even.

"What about the prince?" Ahk asked after a long silence, his words barely there.

"Gods.. um... well, very kind. Got a bit of a stick up his ass, but damn, he was handsome. Pretty scary too, but don't tell him. Any of this," you slurred, once more readying yourself to hurl into the bowl. Ahk quickly moved his hands from your back to your hair, keeping it out of your eyes as you gagged, acid and vodka dripping off your tongue.

Even with you having a rather unpleasant time in the bathroom stall, Ahk felt rather good. You liked him – at least you did at one point, and for him, that meant there was a chance you could forgive him. Yes, embalming you alive was probably not the greatest thing he could've done, but you seemed forgiving enough. With anger formidable and forgiveness imminent, he almost smiled. Almost. And then you hurled again.

In the last hours of the night you started to get better. You could stand with help from Ahk (though you much preferred lying down), and your wits were a little more about you, words still slurred but not quite as unhinged. A few hours previously you stopped throwing up, and Ahk moved you from the bathrooms to McPhee's office. He had a nice couch in there, and Ahk doubted he would mind, considering how McPhee practically revered the living exhibits.

"Feeling better?" He asked, knelt beside you on the cushioned velvet couch.

"A little," you hummed, your voice cracking as you looked to him with tired, baggy eyes.

"We'll have to get you back to your coffin soon. I'll have to go to mine too," he said, stroking your hair. You blinked slowly.

"Why?"

"I'll tell you when you're a bit more coherent," he said with a smile. The edges of your lips turned up, but you were far too weak to form a full smile.

A few minutes later Ahk heard a knock on the closed door, and he excused himself from you with a gentle kiss on your forehead. Opening up the door an inch, he slipped through the gap, coming face to face with Larry.

"They doin' okay?" He asked, hands on his hips.

"Will be, eventually. Don't give them vodka. Ever," Ahk said, earning a hurried agreement.

"Yeah, no, definitely. What's up between you guys though?" He asked with vague hand signals gesturing between the two of them. "Like, you friends? Enemies? I can't tell."

"Currently my name is Naguib and I'm a servant."

"Oh, so not good."

"I didn't say that," Ahk said with a frown. "I asked them about 'the prince' and they actually had a pretty high opinion of me, all things considered, so that's good."

"Honestly I find it hard to believe you actually stabbed them. You don't come across as.. murderous," Larry said, a questioning look on his face.

"You've clearly never seen me watch TV," Ahk said flatly. "I'm a Pharaoh. I'm not sure what you were expecting, but my brother tried to kill me five times and I lost my best friend to banishment. I think I'm allowed a little leeway."

"Yeah, I guess so," Larry said with a sigh, forgetting they were genuinely discussing murder. Murder. "Ready to get them back in the coffin?"

"Right."

The two of them helped you back into your casket, a task that was made infinitely easier by the fact that you passed out while they were conversing. Before placing the wooden lid back on, Ahk leaned in, kissing your forehead one more time. Only then did he reluctantly crawl out of the glass cage, watching Larry lock you up.

"Why do you like them so much?"

"Eh," Ahk shrugged, "they're prolific when they aren't drunk."

"Fair enough."

#ahkmenrah x reader #Ahkmenrah #Night at the Museum #rami malek #rami malek character #ahkmenrah x male reader #ahkmenrah x female reader

177 notes · View notes

ahgastae · 4 years

Text

curiosity (wip) – bang chan x f!reader

➥ word count: 6.1k | spider-man au | action (?? idk) | fluff

➥ m.list

➥ a/n: alright,, let me explain myself lol. i started writing this like?? over a year ago? and eventually got to the point where i kind of just lost ALL of the ideas that i had for where i wanted this to go. SO, instead of letting it sit in my docs forever, i decided to go ahead and post it here for all of you! i hope you enjoy ♡

One thing you can say for sure is you really, really didn’t expect your life to go this way. Not that you have any idea as to how you actually want it to go, but barely hanging onto the edge of the tallest skyscraper in New York definitely isn’t on the top of your list. You feel your fingers start to cramp from the weight, and part of you realizes that this might be it. The end of the infamous Black Cat. Done in because you finally decided to do something good with your life.

Tch. Figures.

A bitter smile spreads across your lips. Of course, this would be the way you go. Ever so dramatic, but on your own damn terms. The thought is comforting, even if it only soothes your beating heart just a bit. You focus on that when your fingers finally start to give out, and you lose your grip on the edge of the rooftop.

When your eyes slowly slip closed, and you feel the wind rushing through your hair.

There’s a small voice in your head telling you to hold on, that it’s almost there. It’s weird. It almost sounds familiar. Almost like-

“Y/N!”

You jolt up in your bed, chest heaving as you struggle to regain your breath. Stars twinkle faintly outside a large window to your right, but your vision quickly adjusts to the rest of the darkened room. Your hands release their iron grip on your plush comforter, a sigh of relief escaping your lips. You’re in your bedroom. It was just another nightmare.

A scoff. ‘Just another nightmare.’ You’ve been plagued with the same stupid dream for weeks now, and you still can’t figure out why. It always starts and ends the same way. You’re hanging off the skyscraper, you try to hang on for as long as you can, you realize very quickly that you can’t hold on any longer, and then you fall. Presumably to your death. But you never seem to make it that far.

Not that you want to, but don’t most people not wake up until they hit the ground during those dreams? Why do you wake up gasping for air before you’re even halfway down? You suppose you should be lucky, but you can’t help feeling like there’s more to it than that. Especially with that voice, the one that calls your name? You always hear it calling out to you, every night, right before you wake up. Tonight wasn’t any different.

You sigh, swinging your legs over the edge of your bed and eyeing the clock on your night stand. 3:25AM.

….Shit.

Well, you’re probably not getting back to bed anytime soon, so you might as well put this wake up call to good use. Padding over to your closet, you carefully swing open the wooden door, cringing to yourself when a slight creak echoes off your bedroom walls. You wait a few seconds just to make sure you’re in the clear. But the apartment is completely silent, save for your roommate’s soft snores in her room next door.

The hidden panel in the back of your closet slides open with a click, and you can’t help the excited smile on your face. No matter how you’re feeling, the sight of that black catsuit never fails to brighten your mood. Your hands run along the smooth material, quickly changing into the familiar suit, and grinning when you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the window. You didn’t really plan on going out, but….

Looks like the Black Cat is going to have some fun tonight after all.

The museum is quiet when you drop through the skylight, landing softly on the balcony of the second floor. Your EMP seems to have done its job, as the security system is powered down and there doesn’t seem to be a guard in sight. They’re probably all back in their office, hurriedly trying to figure out what the hell went wrong. If only they knew about the small, catlike figurine hidden on the roof. Although, maybe not. You don’t mind leaving your adorably deceiving EMPs behind, but they’re not for some random night guard to find. No, you leave them behind for a specific someone. A certain web-headed hero, if you will.

Oh, who are you kidding? It’s no secret (at least, not to him) that you love to tease New York’s friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. Everywhere you go, every heist you pull, you always make sure the hero knows it was you. Obsessed? You wouldn’t say so. Sure, you definitely get a little too excited at the thought of just barely slipping out of his fingers again, but you don’t spend every waking minute planning his demise like some of his other big, bad villains.

Really, if you were to rank yourself, you’d probably be somewhere between “Lovable Anti-Villain” and “Hero With an ‘F’ in Good”. Not super “evil,” more like just enough to keep the wallcrawler chasing your tail.

But that’s not the entire reason you’re here tonight, slipping into the museum’s new exhibit on fourteenth century Japan.

The law labels you a criminal, Spider-Man believes you’re misguided, but you know what you are. You’re the Black Cat, a thief notorious throughout the underground. Well, you say that, but of the people that actually believe you exist, very few have actually seen the Black Cat in person. Actually, it may just be Spider-Man, now that you think about it. Maybe that’s why you feel a weird connection with the wall-crawling hero.

Either way, bottom line is you’re a thief, and a damn good one at that. It’s definitely not the most noble profession (or legal one), but your very specific set of skills make you the best at it, so why not? Plus, it’s not like you’re entirely heartless.

No, you only steal from the wealthy of New York, the highest of elites, the ones who can stand to lose a few thousands (or millions, if you’re feeling pretty moody that night). You’ve tried to explain that to Spider-Man, that it’s okay for you to steal from them because they’re the ones who deserve it. It’s downright disgusting how many of them used dirty means to come into their wealth, methods ranging from less than savory to straight up nefarious.

You may be bad, but you’re definitely not worse than them.

That brings you back to the exhibit. Most of the artifacts in this room were already either stolen or bought from the black market, so what does it matter if you just continue that line?

The latch of the display case clicks as you open the lid, admiring the ancient Japanese tea set nestled inside. You don’t really know its value yet, but it’s going to earn you a pretty penny, that’s for sure. Your hand reaches into the case, hovering over the ceramic teapot when you hear it.

THWIP.

You drop to a crouch, glancing up at the webbing splattered across the lid of the display case. If you hadn’t moved, that would’ve been all over you. And you’d definitely be pissed, if you didn’t know exactly where it came from. A sly smile crosses your face as you stand and turn, locking eyes (or masks?) with your favorite hero perched atop one of the exhibit’s statues.

“I’m starting to think you like us meeting this way, Spider-Man.”

The playful lilt in your voice never fails to catch him off guard. His broad shoulders tense, and it takes everything in you to suppress the giggle from escaping your lips. But he’s quick to compose himself, like always, and you’re almost certain you can hear the smirk in his tone.

“What can I say? My mom always told me to follow my dreams.”

You laugh, trailing a hand along another case as you stroll towards him, “How did you know I’d be here?”

“New exhibit filled with priceless artifacts and no rooftop security,” He shrugs, jumping from the statue’s head and landing in front of you with a soft thud. “Figured it’d be a cat burglar’s dream come true.”

“You thought of me?” You step closer, resting your hands on the white spider emblazoned across his chest. The muscles tense underneath your fingers, and you smirk when his hands twitch in the corner of your eye. “Don’t worry, Spidey. I promise I’m on my best behavior. I just want a few teensy, tiny things and then I’ll be on my way.”

“Sorry, Cat, but I don’t think any of these artifacts are for sale.”

“But they could be,” You shrug, turning away from him. Your fingers toy with the latch on a nearby display case. “See, I think I have a buyer who would love to add something like this to his collection…”

A gloved hand wraps around your wrist before you can open the case. Your eyes trail up his arm, blinking innocently at his white lenses.

“You know I can’t let you do this.”

You smile, leaning into him once more, “Can’t, or won’t?” He stays silent, and you reach your free hand up to cup his masked face. Your thumb softly traces back and forth on his cheek. “Isn’t it funny,” you whisper, “how something as simple as a piece of fabric can keep someone from knowing who you really are?”

“Cat…”

“Do you really think that you can save me, Spidey?” You tilt your head, eyes desperately scanning his face for any sign of his thoughts or feelings. “How do you know if I even want to be saved?”

He swiftly tugs you closer, and despite the white lenses shielding his eyes, you feel his gaze pierce into your own. When he speaks, his voice is soft but deep, and for the first time since you met him, you’re rendered speechless.

“Because you wouldn’t still be here if you didn’t.”

Before you can respond, the sound of footsteps down the hall startles you both. Spider-Man’s grip loosens as he quickly turns towards the exhibit entrance, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what’s going on. The guards must have finally figured out that someone is after the new exhibit, and they won’t be happy to find two intruders standing inside.

Your eyes shift between Spider-Man and the exhibit entrance. It won’t be hard for you two to escape together before the guards even set foot in this room, but what will you do then? Will you laugh and tell him that he’s wrong about you, that you really don’t want his help?

….Or is it that you don’t think you deserve it?

No, he’s just wrong. Spider-Man doesn’t know you, and it’s silly of you to even pretend that he does. You know you like your life just the way it is. That’s not going to change, no matter how much your chest tightens as you gently tug your wrist out of his grip.

It’s not going to change, no matter how much a part of you wishes he would notice you climbing up to the skylight in the center of the room. That he would stop you from slipping through it, and back into the starry night. That he wouldn’t let you fall through his fingertips yet again.

But you’ve never been particularly lucky. Especially not when you really want to be.

By the time you get back to your apartment and change out of your gear, it’s already well past dawn. Like usual, your roommate is still asleep, blissfully unaware that you were gone for a good portion of the night. Which is good, because you really don’t know how you would explain your “other life” to her if she ever found out.

With your suit safely stowed back in its hidden panel, you collapse onto your bed with a heavy sigh. What a fucking night. You’re a little upset that you ended up leaving empty handed, but you knew that was going to happen as soon as you saw the wall-crawler. He really just guessed that you were going to be there tonight. Are you getting that predictable?

Ugh, no. You shake your head. The last thing you want to think about right now is what happened at the museum. How could such a simple sentence send all of your thoughts into a whirlwind of emotions?

“Because you wouldn’t still be here if you didn’t.”

His voice still echoes in your mind, and you stuff your face in your pillow with a groan. This is dumb. Why are you freaking out over this? It’s not like he meant anything by it, just his usual Spidey “I can help you!” stuff. Yeah, that’s it. He just gave you the same spiel he gives all his other enemies, nothing more, nothing less.

….But why does that hurt more?

You throw the pillow off your face as another sigh escapes your lips. Sometimes you really wish you could be one of those super evil villains. You know, those ones who never have to deal with their feelings and shit because they’re too busy taking over the world. Although, you guess you don’t really want to take over the world, at least not all of it. That’s way too much responsibility. You wonder if the people who actually do want to rule the world think of how much time and effort that’s going to require. How do they prepare for that? Is that mental preparation how they’re able to turn off all their feelings? Could you somehow learn to-

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?”

You shriek at the sudden whisper in your ear, instinctively rolling away from its source and tumbling off the end of your bed. Your butt hits the floor with a dull thud, and you glare at a giggling Sana over your mattress.

“What the hell was that for?!”

“S-Sorry!” She chokes out. “I didn’t think I’d scare you that bad!”

Crawling back onto your bed with a grumble, you eye Sana as she struggles to collect herself. She really shouldn’t have scared you that bad, but you guess the lack of sleep and your frazzled thoughts are finally starting to catch up with you. When Sana finally manages to contain her giggles, she plops down on the edge of your mattress with a small huff.

“I really am sorry for scaring you, Y/N,” She reaches out to squeeze your hand. “I thought you would have noticed me walk in.”

You shake your head, giving her a small squeeze in return, “It’s fine. I’ve just...been having some trouble sleeping lately. That’s all.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Her voice is so sincere and caring, you almost find yourself saying yes. You don’t, though, because you can’t tell her the real reason why you haven’t been sleeping, and you don’t think you can bear to lie to her about it, either. With that, your roommate leaves, going back to her room to get ready for her day while you try to muscle up the energy to start yours.

Throwing your legs over the side of your bed, you grab your phone from your nightstand to check the time. Oh, looks like you got a good number of texts during your daydreaming, too.

...And it looks like most of them are from your best friend.

changaroo 🦘 : hey, jinyoung’s in a bit of a mood today, so make sure you’re here on time, alright?

changaroo 🦘 : also i think i have an idea for your next article, i’ll tell you about it when you get in

changaroo 🦘 : y/n, you were supposed to be here 20 min ago, everything okay??

changaroo 🦘 : ….you fucking slept in again, didn’t you?

changaroo 🦘 : hold on i’m texting sana

Ah. So that’s why she was in your room. Chan’s texts are just what you need to get yourself out of bed, though, instantly motivated by both your best friend’s caring nature and the thought of your boss’s wrath hanging above your head. The last time Jinyoung was in a “mood”, you ended up covering the city’s sewer system for a whole month just because you left your dirty coffee mug sitting in the break room sink. That’s a mistake you only make once. Or four times, if you’re poor Hyunjin, who just can’t seem to stay on your boss’s good side, no matter how hard he tries.

Speaking of which, you really need to get your ass moving, or else you’ll wish you only had to cover rats and raw sewage.

Your chest heaves as you approach the Daily Bugle building, the red neon letters standing tall and proud atop its roof announcing the paper’s presence to all of New York City. Some tourists stand around here and there in front of the building’s entrance, and you have to push past them in order to make it inside. Once inside, you think you can take a brief moment of rest.

Until you notice the clock above the receptionist’s desk and realize you’re almost forty-five minutes late.

With a small cry, you take off in another mad dash towards the stairs, taking the steps two at a time and only almost faceplanting once before you finally burst onto your floor. Everyone immediately turns at the noise, and you avoid their probing eyes as you make your way to your desk.

You sit down, turn on your computer, and get yourself ready to act like you aren’t almost an hour late to start your day when you sense a familiar gaze still boring into your forehead. You can’t stop yourself from glancing up, finding his eyes staring at you over your monitor.

“Not. One. Word.”

Chan laughs, leaning back in his chair and giving you a view of his entire face. He mimes zipping his mouth shut and throwing away the key, and a small smile crosses your face. Leave it to him to automatically brighten your day.

If you’re being completely honest, you were a little worried at first about the curly haired Australian your boss decided to place at the desk across from you. Not that you didn’t like him, but you didn’t exactly become the paper’s best investigative journalist by sitting around and making friends. Sure, you don’t necessarily need this job given your…”other” career, but it gives you something to do during the week and keeps your mind busy. That, and you really just like digging into people’’s deep, dark secrets.

Long story short, you weren’t exactly thrilled about some new guy coming in and taking your eye off the ball. At least, that’s what you thought, until the day Christopher Bang showed up and introduced himself as your new partner. Turns out, Jinyoung didn’t just hire a new photographer for the Bugle, he hired a new photographer specifically for your articles. You knew then that you just had to suck it up and deal, but you didn’t count on Christopher (or Chan, as he later insisted you call him) being literally the nicest, most charming guy you’ve ever met.

And despite your attempts to stop it, you and Chan quickly became “thick as thieves,” as he likes to call it. The phrase makes you cringe a little every time he says it, but you can’t deny its truth. If you were to trust anyone with your secret life, it would definitely be your best friend. Now, you’re never going to do that because what in the hell would you gain from it, but the sentiment is still there.

Actually, speaking of secrets….

You glance up at Chan again, except this time his attention is focused on his own computer screen. Part of you wants to just leave him be, but this has been eating at you since you talked to Sana this morning. Or, no, when you first woke up at 3AM today. You swallow your pride, clearing your throat just loud enough to get Chan’s attention. His brown eyes immediately find yours.

“Something wrong?”

“I, um…” You bite your lip. “I had another one of those dreams again.”

Chan’s brow furrows, and he leans forward in his seat, “The falling one? Isn’t that the fourth time this week?”

“It’s the twelfth time this month, Chan.”

“Shit…” He mumbles, running a hand through his blond hair. You try to ignore the way your heart speeds up at the small action, staring down at your keyboard to hide your face. You’re just...not used to trusting someone as much as you trust Chan. Yeah, that’s it. Absolutely nothing but that sole reason alone. “Y/N?”

“H-Hm?” You blink up at Chan, cheeks heating up even more when you realize you were caught daydreaming. Again.

“I just figured there must be a reason you keep having the same dream, you know? Like, maybe your subconscious is trying to tell you something?”

You think for a moment. Could that be the case? Is your subconscious really fucking up your sleep schedule for some important message that’s getting lost in translation? Are you just a dumbass who can’t understand your own brain?

Honestly, all valid possibilities.

Before you can respond, though, the phone on your desk rings loudly. Chan’s brow raises as you pick it up, but you both already know who it is. There’s really only one person who uses that line, and it’s the same person you were hoping not to hear from today.

“L/N, my office. Now.”

And then he hangs up. Your boss has always been a man of few words, but sometimes you really hate how such a short sentence can strike so much fear into your heart. Chan watches as you stand up and adjust your outfit with a heavy sigh.

“Tell him you haven’t been sleeping well lately,” He suggests, and for a minute you think he’s actually being earnest. But, of course, he just has to open his mouth again, “And if that doesn’t work, then at least we’ll be exploring the sewers of New York together!”

A laugh bubbles past your lips, “Are you serious?”

“Hey, I’ve always wanted to know if the Ninja Turtles were real,” Chan grins widely, chuckling when you just shake your head and walk away. He can still see the smile on your face, though, and it only grows when he shouts after you, “You know you wouldn’t mind being the April to my Casey!”

“In your dreams, Christopher!”

His loud laughter follows you all the way to the stairwell, and your chest feels light as you climb up to your boss’s office on the top floor. With Chan’s bright smile in the back of your mind, it’s hard to remember what you were so worried about in the first place. At least, until you’re standing right outside your boss’s door.

“Thank you for taking your sweet time, L/N. Please, sit down.”

Park Jinyoung is, for lack of better words, intimidating to some, and outright terrifying to others. You like to think you’re somewhere near the former, but the look on the twenty-four year old’s face right now is enough to send even the most despicable villains running for the hills. Really, who needs a Spider-Man when you’ve got a Jinyoung to just death glare the bad guys away?

You take a seat in the chair in front of his desk, nervously wringing your hands in your lap. He spends a few more seconds shuffling around the papers and files on his desk, then fixes you with a deadpan look.

“Do you know why I called you in here, L/N?”

“Because I was...late again?” Your shoulders hunch, automatically preparing for the verbal barrage of scolding to start, but it never comes. You glance up at Jinyoung cautiously, shocked to find his brows raised in amusement.

Much more to your surprise, he chuckles, leaning back in his office chair, “You look like you’re about to faint, L/N. I really think you need to loosen up a bit.”

“O-Okay, sir-”

“That’s why,” Jinyoung cuts you off, “I want you to take on a new side project for the paper.”

You blink. A side project…? What could he possibly mean by that? And how does giving you more work equate to you “loosening up”?!

“Let me explain.” You stay silent as your boss clears his throat, sitting up in his seat to look you in the eyes. “Truthfully, it would be less of a side project and more of an ongoing investigative piece. It’ll take the place of your other responsibilities for the Bugle, so you can divide and spread out your workload as you see fit. You don’t even have to report to me until the full piece is finished, if you’d like.”

...Is this a test? Because it feels like a test, doesn’t it? He gives you some too-good-to-be-true offer, and then fires you for being stupid enough to accept it. Or, maybe-

Oh, god, is this where the sewers come in?

“I’m sorry, sir,” You force out, steeling your nerves against his hard gaze, “but I think I’m going to decline.”

You hope that’s going to be the end of it, that Jinyoung will just nod and send you on your way, but of course that’s not the case. No, instead your boss surprises you for the second time, and he actually smiles.

“Are you sure, L/N?” He asks, and you get the strange feeling he’s getting some sick satisfaction from messing with you. “I haven’t even told you what the piece is about yet.”

A small sigh leaves your lips, “What...What is it about, sir?”

“Oh, it’s simple, L/N,” Jinyoung’s smirk grows, taking your question as an acceptance of his offer. His next words shock the objection right out of you, though, and leave only one thought in their place. “You’re just going to do this city and this paper a favor, and finally find out who New York’s friendly neighborhood Spider-Man really is.”

...Fuck.

“He wants you to what?!”

You flinch, pulling your phone away from your ear as Sana’s voice screeches from the device. Honestly, she hadn’t been your first choice to tell about your new “project” (Jinyoung didn’t give you much choice, after all), but Chan was nowhere to be seen when you got back to your desk. You did, however, have one simple text waiting on your phone.

changaroo 🦘 : had to run out. meet you at the usual spot for lunch. my treat <3

So, here you are. Waiting at the pizzeria you and Chan regularly meet at with your roommate loudly screaming in your ear. You mumble something to Sana about needing to go and seeing her at home, and hang up the call. You love her, you really do, but right now you need someone who’s not going to blow out your eardrums without listening to what you actually want to say.

But it’s starting to look more and more like that won’t be Chan, either.

The blond boy has a habit of disappearing every now and again, both during and outside of work, and right now is starting to seem like one of those times. It doesn’t usually take him this long to respond to your texts, and he never likes to miss your little ‘lunch dates’ without any warning. Either something is seriously wrong, or…

“This just in, the NYPD advises all civilians to evacuate the east Harlem district. We’ve received reports of the Rhino attacking parts of the area, along with sightings of the masked vigilante, Spider-Man. That’s all we know for now, but we will continue to keep you posted as the story develops. Now, onto the…”

Ah, that makes a lot of sense. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Chan’s mysterious disappearances always line up with whatever villain of the day getting their ass kicked by everyone’s favorite “vigilante.” The news anchor’s choice of words makes you snicker, but you can’t help but worry for your friend. Most people run away from villain attacks, and it doesn’t sit well with you knowing Chan is regularly risking his life just to get a few good shots for his portfolio. His photos are amazing, there’s no denying that, but you always wonder how he gets his impossible close ups of villains and their destruction. It’s almost like he has to be right in the middle of–

The bell above the pizzeria’s door rings, jolting you out of your thoughts. You look up expectantly, but it’s still not your best friend. A quiet sigh escapes your lips. Another look at your phone tells you that you can’t wait here much longer; you need to get back to work sometime today. Still, it pains you a little bit to stand from your guys’ booth. Your usual tip is left on the table despite it being only one meal, and you head back to the Bugle with your best friend lingering in the back of your mind.

Back at your desk, you finally get a chance to mull over your new “assignment”. Jinyoung has tasked you, for whatever reason, with figuring out Spider-Man’s real identity. You remember now why you wanted to talk to Chan so badly. You thought, since he’s always running back and forth between villain attacks, that he would have some kind of idea where to start. That, and you really just wanted to rant about your asshole boss to your best friend. Chan ended up being a no show, though, and he’s still not answering any of your texts. You hate to admit it, but you’re a little lost.

Your first thought was to use the connection you already have with the spider to your advantage. You’ve “known” each other for a couple years now, and maybe, just maybe, you can convince him to actually take off the mask. It wouldn’t be that hard to just don the Black Cat suit and wait around one of your usual hang outs for him show up. Actually, that would probably be the easiest thing to do.

Except that you can’t.

As you stare at Chan’s vacant desk in front of you, you’re bitterly reminded that Y/N L/N has been assigned this job, not the Black Cat. And unfortunately for you, Y/N L/N does not have the same connection to Spider-Man as your alter ego. Looks like you’re starting this investigation from square one.

...Which is why you wanted to talk to Chan. He’s your partner, after all; he’s “technically” supposed to help you out with this stuff. That is, if he was actually fucking here. Maybe you should drop by his apartment on your way home, just to make sure he didn’t get trampled or something trying to get a snapshot of the Rhino’s rampage. You try to tell yourself you meant that as a joke, but it doesn’t stop the flash of worry in your chest. You’ve seen firsthand some of the destruction Spider-Man’s battles leave behind. Hell, you’ve even experienced it. And honestly? It doesn’t sit well knowing your best friend makes a hobby of putting himself right in the middle of it.

A heavy sigh escapes your lips, and you’re just starting to consider giving up and calling it a day when your phone lights up with a notification. You hastily snatch it off your desk, immediately perking up upon seeing the name on your screen.

changaroo 🦘 : sorry i missed lunch...take out at mine?

changaroo 🦘 : i’ll order from that korean place you love <3

The tension in your shoulders immediately melts away, tension that you didn’t even realize you were holding. You waste no time in responding, though; relieved to know that he’s okay, but wanting to mess with him a little bit for leaving you on radio silence for so long.

you : tsk tsk channie

you : don’t you know how rude it is to leave a lady waiting all by her lonesome??

you : frankly i don’t know if i’ll ever be able to trust you again (tear emoji or some bs idk)

Three little dots pop up seconds after you press send, and you bite your lip to stop the smile threatening to break through.

changaroo 🦘 : my apologies, princess!!

changaroo 🦘 : please, allow me to make it up to you with some of your fav ice cream from the convenience store down the road!

you : hmm…

you : with or without sprinkles?

changaroo 🦘 : uh, with ofc. just who do you think i am??

A small laugh bubbles up your throat, but you cover your mouth before it can escape. Woojin, head of the paper’s advice column, side-eyes you from his desk a few feet away. You don’t notice, though, happily typing out your reply to Chan with an eager grin on your face.

you : apology accepted. i’ll be there in 15

you : ...casey 😉

The train ride to Chan’s apartment is a familiar blur. You’ve taken it more times than you care to count, and it’s honestly become a bit of a habit to instinctively get off at his stop. You don’t have to stop yourself this time, though, putting your legs on auto-pilot and letting your mind wander as you walk. Today has been….a real doozy. From that stupid dream this morning to Jinyoung dumping a monster of an investigative piece on you with zero notice, you’re exhausted, to say the least. No wonder Chan’s front door is such a comforting sight.

You gently rap your knuckles against the wood before letting yourself in, like you always do. A relieved sigh escapes you as you drop your bag by the door, inhaling the light, summery scent of your friend’s home. That reminds you, you’ve really been meaning to ask him what air freshener he uses. Or maybe it’s his cologne, because it’s not just his house that smells this sweet; it’s Chan himself. Or who knows, maybe he’s like your coworker Minho and it’s really both. Actually, now that you think of it, isn’t it a little weird to have a specific smell you associate with your best friend?

…Which is something you can worry about later.

“Chan!” You call as you walk into the living room, eyes scanning around. There are various take out boxes scattered across the coffee table, but the blond is nowhere in sight. You try again, “Chan?”

A frown etches onto your face when there's still no response. That’s weird. It’s not like him to just leave when he knows you’re coming over, especially without telling you first. But the food on the table is still warm, meaning he had to have been here recently. Did you somehow miss his text? You pull your phone out of your back pocket, confirming that you did not, in fact, miss any “brb” texts from Chan. So, what the hell?

Your search takes you into the small kitchen next, but there’s no sign of your best friend there, either, unless the dirty dishes in the sink count. Oh, gross, you know for a fact some of those have been in there since last week. Your nose scrunches up in disgust and you quickly move on from the room, but not before making a mental note to tell Chan to do his fucking dishes.

However, the bathroom is empty, too, leaving the apartment’s one bedroom as your last stop. If you had more of a conscience, maybe you would think twice before barging into your friend’s bedroom unannounced. Then again, boundaries never really have been your strong suit.

The door swings open, and the first thing you see is abs. Nice, well toned abs that, as you soon find out, belong to your best friend. Said best friend is frozen, one of his signature black tees pulled halfway down his torso. After a few seconds of stunned silence, you force yourself to tear your eyes away from Chan’s stomach, only for your cheeks to immediately explode in pink when your gaze meets his.

A small squeak leaves your mouth, and you quickly mumble something about waiting for him in the living room before slamming the bedroom door shut. That could not have gone any worse.

#bang chan x reader #bang chan x you #chan x reader #chan x you #skz chan x reader #chan #bang chan #skz bang chan #bang chan fic #bang chan fluff #skz x reader #skz x you #skz fluff #my writing #guess who still has no idea how to tag things lolol

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vexillumalbum · 4 years

Note

Hello! Whenever you do open requests, could you do the Insecure MC headcanons with Lucien and Victor as well? They’re my favorites so I’d really appreciate it. Loved those headcanons with Kiro and Gavin!

Hello to you too Anon! I struggled a bit with writing these so they can be a bit off. I hope you’ll forgive me.

Victor’s HC I treated a little too personal (let’s say I’m in a similar situation as MC is here, because my partner is “wealthy” and I am not as much and when I tell you some rich people are ruthless... yeah they are) so I got a little carried away. I then tried to rewrite it but it just got worse so I decided to post it like that.

As to Lucien - I don’t know him very well. I only have a few of his karmas, and I played only two of his dates. I do not dislike him, he is just not my type in otome games.

With that being said I hope you’ll still be able to enjoy these HCs. Have a great day/night and please stay safe!

*slight spoilers*

“You are gorgeous* with Victor and Lucien:

Victor

“Are you okay in there?” A deep voice from behind the door pulled you out of your thoughts. You quickly wiped your face with a towel, which you then threw into a basket of dirty laundry and looked in the mirror, hoping that you would not see a tearful woman with red eyes and swollen cheeks.

There is a reason, however, that they say hope is the mother of fools.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. Give me a minute!” Your voice almost cracked and it took everything in you not to start crying again. You grabbed another towel, soaked it in cold water and started to vigorously tap it on your face to make the puffiness disappear.

On the other side of the door was standing very worried Victor with his brows furrowed and lips pressed in a thin line. He wasn’t deaf, he heard your sobs coming out of the bathroom a while ago and immediately wanted to know what’s wrong but knew you would not tell him right away. So leaned on the wall next to the door and waited for you to enter your shared bedroom.

Paler than a few minutes earlier you finally walked out with a tight smile plastered on your face. You rubbed your still-a-little-shaky hands on your silk robe to occupy them with something and get rid of the feeling of overwhelming nervousness.

♪ Conceal, don't feel, don't let them know ♪ (I’m sorry, I got carried away)

“Who are you trying to fool?” He knew. Of course he knew.

“I’m tired, Victor. Can we please go to bed?”

“Not unless you tell me what’s bothering you.” He was giving you The Look™. This icy glare that he used at work that was basically saying „do as I say” and that every LFG employee was afraid of. You’ve seen The Look™ so many times now it didn’t bother you anymore but Victor didn’t even flinch when you tried to push past him in order to get to the bed. He was stubborn and you were sick and tired of your own thoughts so you gave in.

Being the girlfriend of one of the most influential people in the country (*cough* the whole world *cough*) brought many advantages. Fancy business meetings, cruises on private yachts, beautiful views from hotel windows when you were traveling together for business trips. Not to mention how much love Victor gave you and how much he did for you privately, behind closed doors, where he showed you his tender loving side.

But it also had many downsides. The people you two were mingling with were refined, elegant, sometimes you could even say stuck-up. And you felt like you didn’t belong there. Hell, you knew you didn’t.

Everything was a race between them. Who drove a better car, who had more investments, who knew more languages, who graduated from better university. Where was your place in this picture?

You weren’t stupid, you were the boss of your own company, you were extremely strong-willed and dutiful, you worked hard, but somehow you still didn’t see yourself worthy of being Victor’s partner.

In addition, there was the fact that Victor had little time for you - which of course you understood, he could not put his duties aside because of your whims - but somewhere inside you were still a bit upset.

Your boyfriend didn't know how to react. From the first day of your acquaintance, he saw you as someone confident, brave, not worried about failures, but only going forward. You managed to convince him HIM to give you and your company a chance. Never in a million years would he had guessed that under your tough exterior lay so many insecurities.

He held your shaking body in a tight embrace occasionally giving you a kiss on the crown of your head partially to calm you down and partially to calm himself down. He treated the fact that because of the self-doubt you brought yourself to the state where you cried when locked in a bathroom alone, as a private failure.

Now he had to make up for every time he weren’t there with you. For you.

You were used to lonely evenings spent in front of the TV with your favorite pudding (which compensated his absence a bit). So you were very surprised when a few days later he announced that from now on two evenings a week you would be obligated to spend together doing whatever you would like to.

Watching TV, playing piano, eating, having sex. You named it - he was down for it.

At banquets, when he saw your eyes begin to waver, he hugged you closer to his side or squeezed your hand a bit harder. He made you understand that he was next to you and did not intend to leave you. So you better not leave him

Oh, and if someone tried to offend you or your intelligence/appearance/mannerisms/whatever…

He would be with you in a minute and with the help of The Look™and his CEO voice he would let the poor thing know that the only person with whom something was wrong in the room was them.

Victor was not very good at comforting you with words, but his actions expressed more than a thousand of them.

When you felt the need for self-pity, he brought you a cup of your favorite tea, covered your body with a blanket and hugged to himself, leaning your head against his sturdy chest. This way he made sure that you weren't alone with your problems. Sometimes he was also combing your hair with his fingers humming a melody he knew you loved, because you were constantly playing it on the piano. Like a parent calming their child down.

“Victor, thank you.” You said one time, your voice tired.

“Sleep, dummy. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

He once lost you. He wasn’t going to risk it happening again. You were definitely the love of his life, the only person he would ever wait for. So if he had to wait for you to love yourself properly, so be it.

Lucien

The spark of joy disappeared from your eyes some time ago.

Lucien was a researcher, an observer, he knew when changes to your behavior occurred. He noticed them right away.

How you were sabotaging yourself when something good happened to you. How you were dragging down all your accomplishments. How you became even harder on yourself to the point when you were falling asleep in different places because you were so fatigued.

You were physically and emotionally drained but you kept going anyway cause if you stop, insecurities would eat you alive.

“When are you going to tell me what’s been on your mind lately, butterfly?” A simple question asked during breakfast when he put a cup of chamomile tea in front of you made you almost choke on eggs you were currently chomping.

“Whatever you mean, Lucien…”

“I thought you were the one who said that a healthy relationship is based on honesty and openness. Weren’t you?”

This man. Seriously.

“I didn’t think you’d be interested in that matter.”

“On the contrary. I am interested in about everything regarding your person.”

At that point you were sure he was aware of a mess you had inside your head. He gave it away by the way he grabbed your hand and wrapped his long fingers around yours, to later bring them to his lips and kiss each knuckle. It was a tender gesture, one he often did to lift your spirits.

You didn't quite want to explain everything to him, uncover all of your insecurities, but when he looked at you as penetrating as if he wanted to expose your soul as gently as possible, you couldn't refuse him.

He held your hand all the time, didn’t let it go even when you rested your head on his shoulder while weeping.

To say that it broke Lucien's heart is an understatement. He knew everything he heard from you that morning. He had all this information, and yet to hear from you how much you did not believe in yourself, how much you loathed yourself, was a blow to him.

All he could do was gradually try to get you out of your bubble. He wanted to replace all that ugliness that you wore inside with something beautiful.

Step one: A healthy mind in a healthy body. Who was supposed to know it better than a doctor?

As you struggled with drooping eyelids trying to perfect another report, which was impossible, Lucien's strong arms gently pulled you away from the desk and led you towards the bed. After several times, you even stopped protesting.

Chamomile tea has always been provided to you in stressful situations. Lucien even instructed Anna to prepare this tea for you at the company where he had no possibility of being.

Your boyfriend attached great importance to what you ate because it was a well-known fact that people with a diet rich in vitamins and omega-3 had a better mood. Oh no, no more junk food

Step two: exhibitions, galleries, theater, cinema, stargazing, watching the skylights, amusement park.

Between research and teaching at the university, Lucien took you to all the places you could have thought of. He took the replacement of ugliness with beauty quite literally.

Your favorite place was a temporary butterfly exhibition at the Natural Museum, because there your boyfriend led you from a display case to a display case and was telling you passionately every interesting fact he knew about different species. How unguarded he became there was amusing but also very sweet.

“Did you know that this butterfly pups quite late and its wings are slightly smaller than the rest of the butterflies living in this area? This does not prevent him from being the most beautiful and useful of all of them.” He said pointing with one hand to one of the insects while the other was drawing small circles on the small of your back.

Did he just compared you to a butterfly?

Step three: a good ol’ love-making.

This man thought that if it doesn't reach you normally, it will hit you how wonderful you are through various positions in bed. Not only in bed

Good luck walking for the next few days

You gave Lucien’s life color, showed him that living with someone who cared about him and loved him was far better, happier. He was going to repay that favor now.

____________________________________________________

thank you so much for reading!

if you want to read more of my works they are here

#mlqc #mlqc lucien #mlqc victor #mlqc gavin #mlqc kiro #mr love queen's choice #mr. love queen's choice #mlqc fluff #requests

192 notes · View notes

glossyeon · 3 years

Text

natm || pt.1 || osh

*All credit goes to the creators of these images*

~𝘏𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘧 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘴, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘨𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮…~

𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: Museum Curator!Sehun x Sculpture!Reader

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: sexual content, oral m recieving, fingering, dirty talk, degrading names during sex, rough sex, nudity, explicit depictions of sex, Sad scenes, Reader is a sculpture?, Swearing, Lot’s of grammar mistakes, heartbreaking and heartwarming scenes ahead…

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 1.6k

𝘼/𝙉: This has been a series that I’ve been dying to do for a very long time! I think Museum Curator!Sehun is such an uncommon paring that we need more of these days. Also inspired by Night at the Museum Movie Series... Enjoy!

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: 𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘔𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘶𝘮 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘖𝘩 𝘚𝘦𝘩𝘶𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘢𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘔𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘶𝘮 𝘊𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘳. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘤 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘤𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘴 12...

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

At the strike of 12 o'clock midnight you are given the chance to come to life once more. No longer do the Velvet rope barriers that keep you motionless throughout the day block your freedom. You’ve done the same thing each and every night for the past thirty years since you were moved to this museum. Roam the halls and exhibits with your fellow friends of art that are bound to the grounds of this grand building just like you.

There’s your sassy and confident friend HyunA, which is better known as the girl with the pearl earring. Constantly chattering and gossiping about the cavemen’s in exhibit B, or the newly arrived valuables that belong in the Victorian history section.

Then there’s your calm and collected friend Mona Lisa, but you just call her by Lisa. Quite popular amongst the mummies in the Ancient Egypt section for some reason that you cannot out your finger on. The three of you have been together for the past decades, stuck to be stared, examined, and pick apart by the public eye. It’s not easy, but it’s what you were all made to do.

Stay perfectly still and be art.

Be the magnificent piece of history that people label you to be.

That night was the same as any other. The booming chimes of the grand clock in the entrance of the museum signalled the time had come for everyone. The time to live.

Soon, the stiff marble that you called your hair turned to luscious black locks, healthy and shining with brilliance. The pale cover that was your skin melted off to uncover a radiantly glowing hazel one. No one could deny that the beauty you obtained was less than perfect. You were the epitome of beauty, confidence, and love.

“Jesus Christ I think I’m gonna need to see a chiropractor after this” you signed in pain as you cracked the remaining hardened parts of your body. Standing in place for 12 hours was exhausting and cruel to say the least.

“You’re a sculpture. How on earth would you survive that painful session with a chiropractor? Your fine marble would bruise and dent the minute hands are laid on you.” Absurdity was evident in the voice that came from behind you. A voice with too many thoughts that had been kept hidden for so long that just ached to be heard...

“Taemin-“ you started out, tired of dealing with this again

“First of all, how would you even meet this chiropractor? We are bound to the halls of this museum!” He stated as if you weren’t reminded of this everyday. “And what would the chiropractor even say to you if you show up to them? “Oh why hello there nice to meet you, you must be that hundred thousand year old sculpture th-“

“Taemin!” You shrieked in annoyance. It wasn’t long before you clamped the tall mans mouth shut with your hand and warned in a threatening voice. “I’m popular, I’m beautiful , and I have many many friends in this exhibit that wouldn’t mind making a few dents in those kneecaps...” you said, emphasizing many.

The boy gasped in horror and pulled away from you before gulping in fear from your series expression. you sighed and proceeded to leave, your white dress floating behind you as you tried to find your friends. “I have no time to deal with you” you explained, swiftly walking away.

He called behind you “it’s not my fault that I’m constantly surround by my thoughts with NO ONE to talk too” he huffed and pouted his lips in a frown that you could already tell was there.

it wasn’t long before the shrieks and laughter that belonged to HyunA filled the History section next door. You smirked, leaning against the wall with your arms crossed. You couldn’t help stopping to witness the scene of your friend right before your eyes.

HyunA’s voice and chatter was dripping with charisma and curiosity. As the girl sat elegantly on one of the museum benches, the Norwegian cavemen fought and huddled to get a glimpse of her beauty and an earful of her words.

“And as his deep stoic eyes bored into my eyes, I knew right then and there. He was to be mine. From the tip of my tongue, to the ends of my toes, he owned me. Every inch and corner”

your best friend seductively read out each word of the novel in her hands, passionately describing the lewd contents that were about to come.

“Don’t you think that’s enough reading HyunA?” I commented, walking closer to the bench. The cavemen immediately moved to create space for the best friend of the woman they called their goddess.

I smiled at the eagerness visible in her eyes. “How on earth am I supposed to stop now when I’ve just started!” She explained, patting the heads of the cavemen like they were her pets. To be honest, they weren’t far from it, with their eyes overflowing with love and admiration.

“HyunA has taught us many important lessons during our nights!” One built and muscular man named Shownu stated, piling the agrees of many others as well.

One man named Chan then began to say, “HyunA has taught us the importance of love, sensuality, and passion” he declared, smacking his chest with his fist and roaring with pride. the others didn’t hesitate to join in as well.

Meanwhile, HyunA just seemed to stare virtuously at the men, admiring the fan club she had successfully accumulated during her read alouds. I shaked my head in disbelief and proceeded to swiftly snatch HyunA away from the male energy surrounding the room.

“HyunA” I begged. “Please don’t hang out with those men anymore, hm? It’s not good to waste your nights away by reading some fantasty romance to them” I tried to reason with my best friend but HyunA being HyunA, she didn’t hesitate to assure me.

“Oh Y/N,” she looked at me like I was a stray cat in need of help. “My time with boys like Shownu and Chan are just play times”. Brushing a hair behind my ear and while holding both my hands in hers, she went on. “I’m just trying to have a bit of fun before I meet The One” she declared, sighing at my clueless face.

I snatched the book that was still under her armpit and shaked it in front of her. “Reading the museum secretary’s hidden fan fiction won’t do anything to help you find love”

“give that back” she whined.

I pinched my nose bridge in disappointment and stress, raising the book high up in the air where she couldn’t reach it. As she was struggling to retrieve her precious novel, noises erupted from the ends of the halls.

“What now...”

The hallways outside the separate exhibits were especially loud at night. It’s a true mystery how the security guards and night shift workers don’t find out about us. Dinosaurs, extinct wildlife, and many many nude men were running rampant, overflowing with excitement and life.

“Yuna that’s a 4000 year old Naqada Vase your holding” I exclaimed, reaching out to snatch it away.

But Yuna wasn’t easily defeated. Being born of Victorian Royalty, Shin Yuna was quite a mischievous handful, never hesitating to get what she wanted.

“What, this one?” She smirked, dodging my actions and obviously playing dumb. Her small wrist went right through one of the handles, dangerously hanging it through one hand.

Letting out the 100th sigh that night, my footsteps carried me away from the chaos.

“If I don’t see it, I don’t know it” I mumbled to myself.

As HyunA and Yuna stopped to talk more about her petticoat, I made my way to the library of historical records. A place where not many of the historical artifacts went to enjoy their nights. But I preferred the quiet, peaceful setting as it was much more fun than getting pissed at by Napoleon Bonaparte.

Shuddering at the memory, I then opened the doors to the library. Greeted with the familiar scent of must and candle wax, I happily pranced along the endless supply of books.

Books from about the Ice Age to Modern Art surrounded me. My passion for reading could never bore me. Not in a million years.

I swiftly walked past the spines of each and every book, only to stop at an empty shelf. The section of famous poets and philosophers that I was just getting fond of had been apparently moved to the other side of the room. Frowning in annoyance I was just about to head back when I saw him.

The tall, slim, figure sitting at one of the tables, back covering the view of my presence. I stopped in my spot, frozen in fear as this man was definitely not one of the museum's peoples. At least not the usual ones on night duty.

The countless precautions put in place to avoid being caught by the workers and night guards had served its purpose for all this time. If there was anyone to see the magic that happened in these walls, we wouldn’t know what we would do.

Would we be taken away? Would we be shipped off to the CIA? Lord knows what would happen if I left HyunA and Lisa alone...

Although his face was covered with the cover of a book, there was no denying that his body was well crafted. The muscles under his black turtle neck stood out under the fabric, perfectly hugging his chest and arms. I felt quite a bit embarrassed with my sheer cloth dress, which was quite absurd considering practically everyone has seen the my crafted body. I carefully took a step back.

“The quicker I leave and warn the others, the better” I thought. Keeping my footsteps as light as I could, I made my way almost 2 feet away from the door. And that's when his words echoed in the silence of the library.

“You’re forgetting something aren’t you?”

#exo #exo fanfiction #exo fluff #exo angst #kpop fanfic #kpop series #kpop masterlist #oh sehun #sehun fanfic #sehun #glossyeon #fluff #angst #exo writing #sehun writing #kpop writing

27 notes · View notes

1117squad · 4 years

Text

a scrapbook of memories | y. changgu

↬ pairing: changgu x gn!reader

↬ genre: fluff

↬ word count: 1346

↬ requested by: anon

Can I request a react with Jinho/Yeo One where the s/o always takes a picture for their scrapbook that’s filled of moments of their dates/little things they do? ♡＾▽＾♡

sorry this took a l o n g while to come out, but i hope you enjoy this fluffy story :D -admin a

i really should tell jinho to get a life and stop trying to set me up, but all the same…

“y/n, come on!!”

“slow down, you’re moving way too fast!”

“it’s not my fault if you walk slow,” jinho shot back, sticking his tongue out at you.

you rolled your eyes, but quickened your pace to a jog. you loved your brother, but he was so immature, even though he was older. “why are you so excited to take me to a shipping yard, anyway? is there a particular special seagull you want me to meet?”

“the seagull’s name is changgu, and he’s a very nice guy.”

you stopped dead in your tracks. “seriously?”

“well, he’s not actually a seagull, but you need to meet him anyways!” jinho looked surprisingly serious even though his voice was light. it seemed like he had been planning this for a while.

“why a shipping yard, though?”

jinho let out a long sigh. “so many questions. look, you’re a photographer, he’s an instagram model, and shipping containers make for good backgrounds. are you happy?”

“i’m— yeah, sure.” you weren’t sure if you exactly wanted to interact with the egocentric type you’ve known most influencers to be, but if jinho was this insistent…

after several minutes of searching for this changgu dude, you finally heard jinho cry out, “over here!”

you headed toward the sound of his voice. rounding a corner, you bumped into someone’s chest. “ah, i’m so sorry!”

“no, you’re okay!” coffee brown eyes met yours, and you felt your cheeks warm.

“y/n, i see you’ve met changgu,” jinho jutted in, the smirk on his face obvious without you having to see it.

“pleasure to meet you,” changgu said.

“l-likewise…” you knew that instagram models were of course conventionally attractive, but jeez, this guy was on a whole ‘nother level.

“apologies, my lil sibling is kinda shy,” at this, you shot jinho a dirty look, “but i’m sure you two will get along swimmingly! y/n’s a virtuoso when it comes to photography.” your glare shifted to a thankful glance.

changgu clapped in excitement. “let’s get started, then~”

neither of you knew it at the time, but you and changgu became closer than jinho would ever have imagined.

our first date! he took me to see the christmas decorations. the trees were entwined with lights, and when they were reflected in his eyes, they sparkled.

“isn’t this wonderful?” changgu said, turning to you. “it feels kinda like...”

you grinned back at him. the scenery was certainly pretty, but it was definitely outshined by the way his face lit up. seeing him look so happy really got you into the christmas spirit, more than any santa cosplayer or yule log ever could. “magic,” you finished for him.

he reached for your hand and squeezed it, eyes crinkling, then started to walk. “this isn’t even the best part of the display, though.”

“oh?” you replied, surprised.

“you’ll see!”

passing by happy couples in identical outfits (you hadn’t thought to ask if changgu wanted to match, and now you were feeling a bit guilty at the fact), you finally came to the center of the exhibit—a giant christmas tree adorned with a shining star.

“ta-da!!” he exclaimed, doing jazz hands for extra pizazz.

“...this is it?”

his face fell. “well, um, i thought you’d like it—”

“it’s amazing!”

changgu’s eyes widened. “you sure?”

“yeah, i’ve always wanted to see one of these! i only ever got to see those tiny fake store-bought ones,” you commented, making a face.

“that’s not all, though.”

you yelped when he abruptly pulled you along to a spot behind the tree.

he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “so, it seems like we’ve been caught under the mistletoe.”

you looked upwards. it was true. there was a small red-berried ornament hanging above your heads. “wow—”

you were caught mid-phrase with changgu’s lips meeting yours. you pressed closer to him, threading one hand through his hair.

slowly, he pulled away, cheeks flushed. “merry christmas. i mean, it’s kinda early, but—”

you pecked his cheek, bringing his ramble to a halt. “merry christmas, changgu.”

and in that moment, you knew you would never be able to think of the holiday season without thinking of changgu and his unmatched smile.

going plant shopping! i didn’t know he had such a green thumb, haha

you couldn’t believe you were about to move into an apartment with your boyfriend.

you were about to move in with changgu.

changgu, the love of your life. changgu, your ray of sunshine on cloudy days. changgu, the most kind and gentle soul you had ever met.

changgu, maybe-possibly-definitely your soulmate.

and you were standing in a greenhouse, surrounded by flora, directly next to him as he touched every single leaf he saw.

you raised an eyebrow in amusement. “babe, what are you doing?”

he closed his eyes in mock enlightenment as he rubbed a vine between his fingers. “it’s called getting in touch with vegetation. feeling the soul of life.”

you snorted. “i’m sorry, wise one. carry on.”

still in the act of being some grand god of all things gardening-related, he said, “yes, yes… this one has some unique potential.”

you peeked over at the label of what he was touching—lamb’s ear. “cute, but i’m not sure if we can grow it in our house.”

he opened his eyes, getting out of his persona, and huffed dejectedly. “you’re right, but it just feels so soft…”

you patted his shoulder. “let’s go check out the succulents. or maybe the hanging plants? we’ll find something!”

he hit you with that stunning grin that you loved so much. “anything’s good when it’s with you.”

anniversary date; it’s been three years already… i really love him so much

you drew in a deep breath. you were waiting at a pierside cafe for your fiancé, and even after being with him for over a thousand days, the nervous jitters never left you.

“changgu! you’re here!”

he took a seat. “sorry i’m a tiny bit late, i may have gotten lost…”

you laughed. “always with your head in the clouds.”

“the thought of you constantly distracts me.”

you covered your mouth with a scandalized gasp. “are you, perhaps, flirting with me?”

he waggled his eyebrows goofily. “and if i am…?”

fanning your face, you said, “this is much too improper!”

at that, the two of you broke down in a fit of giggles. your relationship was one of humor and mirth, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

a waitress came to your table, and you placed your order. you looked at changgu, who was gazing at you with adoring eyes. now was good a time as any to present your gift.

“so… since we’ve been together for so long, i want to show you something. keep in mind, it’s not finished.” slowly, you pulled out the scrapbook, the thing you had been working on for so long. “this is sorta like a museum. all the memories we’ve made together.”

he looked at you in wonderment. “y/n…” delicately, he flipped through the pages, quietly gasping occasionally and making comments in-between. “you have ticket stubs from that terrible cinema?”

“the one that we swore never to go to again but kept coming back to just because?”

“the box office staff looked at us like we were crazy,” he chuckled.

for some moments, he kept completely silent, just glancing up at you a couple times like he couldn’t believe this was real.

when he reached the last filled page of the book, he stood up from his seat. without a word, he walked to you and planted a long kiss on your forehead.

“thank you so, so much y/n. this is just… wow. this really means a lot, more than you’ll ever know. i love you. a lot.”

you could see his eyes glistening with the start of (happy) tears, which made you want to cry as well. “i love you too, changgu. happy anniversary.”

“happy anniversary.”

#ptg yeo one #pentagon #pentagon imagines #pentagon reactions #pentagon fluff #kpop reactions #kpop imagines #kpop fics #by anna

45 notes · View notes

nad-zeta · 4 years

Text

Match up duo (◠‿◠✿)

if it’s not bothering you i want to request a matchups for ikevamp. i’m not sure if it’s okay to just sent my photos alone but i’ll gave you a short description of myself.

i’m very very short (4'9"). i’m asian and have long black hair. i usually like to wear comfortable clothes but i’m also into goth and pastel.

for my personalities i’m an aquarius, infp-t, i like writing stories/drawing. i like rock/metal music, i like travelling and nature but i don’t mind being inside a lot. i’m a sweet tooth too. mostly i like things that are unique, that not many people know about it.

i consider myself open minded, adventurous, i like to learn new things, i value my freedom. i don’t easily get along with new people but i can be the most talkative person if i knew them well enough. sorry if it’s too long, thank you so much.. i love your blog

Hi, love thank you so much for the request! @blue-imagica No way its never a bother I love doing these requests (◕ω◕✿) I’m so sorry it took me 2 million years to get this to ya! Also, I apologise in advance if it sucks hehe I decided to try my hand at the ikevamp match up in honour of best boi Isaacs route dropping lol Thanx so much for being so sweet I’m super glad you have been enjoying my writing

(/‿＼✿) ❤🔥

Anyways...... hope you have a wonderful day dear and I hope you enjoy it, love! ❤🌼

So I match you with.......................... Vincent

Selfie match up part

The first time this boy sees you he is completely captivated

You remind him of the summer, so bright, pure and innocent

He can’t tear his eyes away from you or, your jet black hair, its unparalleled dimension and the way it naturally flowed in the wind catching the rays of sun and shining

Your dark hair is so thick and shiny, and he is inspired by the way it cascades down your delicate soft skin like waves of midnight on a sandy beach

He is utterly and entirely inspired by you, and he wishes nothing more than go up to his art studio and paint you

All he wanted to do was paint those dark eyes of your, those eyes reflecting the deepest shades of the earth, shining with so much love and warmth.

And oh how easy it is for him to get lost in the universe of your eyes, he loves the way they sparkle and shine, lighting up with a thousand stars when you introduce yourself to him.

If Vincent had to describe you as something it would be an angel, the way you extrude warmth and love, and all he wanted to do was get to know you.

He could easily envision himself with you, the two of you laughing and cuddled up together under the shade of a tree in the midst of a flower field.

Matchup part

You wandered through the mansion aimlessly thinking it was still part of the museum. You found yourself walking into the most beautiful art studio. You looked around and hung on the wall was a painting you knew all too well. Starry Night, you loved that painting, TBH you loved it so much it was actually your phone’s wallpaper at some point. As you continued to admire the paintings that filled the room, a young man with soft blond hair and ocean blue eyes walked through the door. You were awestruck, he was absolutely beautiful, you wondered if you had died and gone to heaven. Your face flushed, as you were rather shy and didn’t do too well with new people. It definitely didn’t help that he was staring at you with stars in his eyes.

Finally, the young artist broke the silence “Oooh I’m terribly sorry for staring, how rude of me, my name is Vincent.” You gave a small smile, how ironic was it that his name was Vincent, he certainly had the same painting style as Thee Vincent van Gogh. You gave a small introduction, and before the two of you could chat, Sabatian burst through the door. He looked at you in shock and disbelief “You, Miss, how did you get in here”, you stared at the butler in confusion “Through the big wooded door, wait isn’t this part of the museum.” With that, Sabastian grabbed your wrist and escorted you to Comte’s room.

Le Comte explained your current situation very calmly over snacks and tea. You were shook, not only did you go back in time, but you were now roommates with the worlds most historical figures and to top it all off they were vampires! You didn’t know if you wanted to laugh or scream. You low key though all of this was a dream that is until, Arthur almost bit you when you went to get a glass of water. Luckily for you, Vincent appeared just in time to save you. “Arthur, what do you think you are doing? You mustn’t scare her like that, it’s quite rude,” before Arthur could defend himself or spit out a flirty comment Vincent gently grabbed your hand and lead you away to his room “I’m terribly sorry for Arthur’s rude behaviour, he is super nice once you get to know him.”

You were honestly so spooked and freaked out, that you felt uneasy sleeping in a house full of vampires, especially after one just tried to bite you. As if reading your thoughts Vincent gave you the most angelic smile and asked “Would you like me to stay with you and guard you tonight? I was planning on staying up and painting anyways” You gave a small nod, you were already starting to drift off to sleep, from the long day full of surprises.

You woke up the next day to Vincent’s sunshine smile and honesty you wouldn’t mind waking up to that beautiful smile every day. It was so bright and warm and seemed to melt away all your troubles. You and Vincent made your way downstairs for breakfast. To say Vincent was overjoyed when he found out you were a fellow sweet tooth would be an understatement! It was something the two of you bonded over, and it actually brought you out of your shell a bit. Since that day Vincent would take you to all his favourite cafes to treat you to all sorts of sweet treats.

As the two of you ate your delicious dessert, you found yourself opening up more and more to the painter. The two of you would literally talk each other’s ears off for hours and hours. By the time the two of you made your way home from a day out in the town the sun was already setting

You loved to draw and sketch, and when Vincent discovered this fact, he was overjoyed. One night as the two of you were sitting and sipping on tea together, he spotted your sketchbook laying on the table, and his eyes lit up in delight at your beautiful sketches. As he continued to page, you remembered that you had sketched him paining one day and before you could reach to stop him from paging through your book, he spotted at the exact sketch you didn't want him to see. Your face went red in the sweetest of blushes. You keenly eyed Vincent as he traced his fingers over the sketch, he was completely awestruck. He turned to give you the biggest brightest smile, you definitely didn’t miss the faint blush on his cheeks

Honestly, the two of you had long ago fallen madly in love with the other.

Vincent was determined to make his feelings known one day. The two of you often walked together through nature in search of the perfect scene to paint and draw. The two of you had recently come across a vast, beautiful flower field. It had become somewhat a tradition for the two of you to once a week have a picnic in the field and just enjoy the quiet, peaceful scenery. Often the two of you would lay on the blankie and look up at the sky, cloud watching. One day as the two of you were laying beside each other watching the clouds, Vincents hand gently bumped yours. You smiled and bumped his hand back. He then slowly moved his hand to intertwine his fingers with yours. Both of you turned your heads to look at each other. “I have something I need to tell you” Vincent had a slight blush forming on his face as he beamed up at you “ik hou van jou.” As the phrase left his mouth, he turned away in embarrassment, you sat up and tugged at his hand, you gave him the biggest brightest smile as your other hand moved to cup his cheek “I love you too Vincent”. The two of you then gravitated to meet in the sweetest of kisses. That afternoon the two of you cuties walked back home together hand in hand. You were going to ask Comte of you could stay in the past indefinitely.

The two of you angels made the cutest couple. Often the two of you could be found spending hours and hours together. Vincent would paint, and you would draw. Your favourite was travelling with the young artist. You loved to travel with Vincent and go to all sorts of art exhibitions that would showcase his beautiful paintings. After, the two of you would always wander around hand in hand, on the hunt for a café selling sweet treats. After both of you stuffed your faces with confectioneries, you would walk it off, by wandering around the park/nature together. As the two of you walked Vincent would occasionally lift your hand that he was holding to his lips and kiss the back of it, just to give you a small reminder of how much he loves you.

In fact, this boy absolutely adores you and will 100% drop small little kisses on your temples, forehead, nose and cheeks. Vincent’s all-time favourite is to just rest his head on your lap after a long day of fun and adventures, learning new things together and having fun new experiences. He loves it when you pull your fingers through his golden locks and read your newest piece of writing to him. He absolutely loves to listen to your short stories and poems. Sometimes as he rests on your lap, his mind drifts back to the first day you met, and he thinks it must have been fate, for you to have not only wandered through the door into the mansion, but also for him to have found you in his art studio. Like the universe itself sending him his very own angel to love and to hold for all eternity

Other potential matches................. Theo

I hope you enjoyed this love and i hope you have the best day ❀◕ ‿ ◕❀🌈🔥

#ikevamp matchup #ikevamp #ikevamp vincent #vincent van gogh #Ikemen vampire vincent #vincent #ikesen matchup #ikemen matchup #match ups #vincent matchup

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xmxisxforxmaybe · 5 years

Text

Remnants, Part IV

This chapter is another build--there’s going to be a little more action in the next.

Summary: You are in the midst of formulating your dissertation, but you’ve hit a wall. Your doting aunt, Rebecca, has a solution that brings you face to face with Ahkmenrah, Fourth King of the Fourth King. As the connection between you and Ahkmenrah grows, and as the secrets of his ancient tablet unlock, the once-king will find himself faced with a difficult choice.

Thanks so much to @kitkatcronch @kpopperotp12 @seafrost-fangirl @sassystrawberryk and @perfect-rami for reading : ) If anyone else wants added to the taglist, let me know. I’ve greatly appreciated all of the feedback!

Warnings: Another wee, mild reference to sex. Ahk is a solid 20 years of age to be certain to avoid any squick factor.

* * * * *

You couldn’t stop thinking about Ahkmenrah’s long-returned-to-dust bedtime garment. Of course, you couldn’t stop picturing him in it and chastised yourself for that, but as his friend, you also longed to help him combat some of that nostalgia. You were really beginning to create a vortex of chaos when it came to your thoughts about the once-pharaoh. You saw him as a person now, a complex, oddity of a person who loved the thing you loved the most, too. The distance you told yourself to keep was now more of a suggestion than a rule.

You sighed, frowning and mentally swearing to recement your own rule. It was for Ahkmenrah’s safety as much as it was for yours. You two couldn’t have a life together without you sacrificing everything, and you couldn’t bear the thought of having to break his heart if the two of you got in too deep. The true problem was that it was very easy to reestablish a solid boundary when you weren’t looking into his beautiful, intense eyes.

Oh! Senet! Yes! You thought to yourself, remembering the board game that the ancient Egyptians played. While the rules had never really been discovered, you were sure Ahk would know exactly what it was. There was an antiquities store in Greenwich Village that specialized in recreating ancient artifacts. There was a niggling remnant of a memory in the back of your mind of you gliding your hand across the smooth top of the board, wondering what it would have been like to sit on a rooftop with a fire and the night sky providing just enough light as you played, the burbling of the Nile in the background, its din a sweet music to your ears.

Yes. Senet would make the perfect gift for Ahkmenrah.

As you packed up your bookbag after a long day at school, you mentally mapped out your late afternoon. You had just enough time to journey into the Village to try to find the game for Ahk before you needed to begin the first chapter of your dissertation. Today had been a great day as you met with the three professors who would be serving as the chairs for your dissertation. Out of the three, there was only one who intimidated you. She was known for being tough, but you weren’t about to let something as little as criticism get in the way of your dream.

You were just about to step out when your phone buzzed.

“Done. Give it a look?”

Your thumbs hovered over the letters as you decided when to meet Ryan.

“Busy tonight. Tomorrow?”

“Brunch. North Square on Waverly?”

“Perfect :)”

A small part of you longed to tell Ryan about the museum; he would love it, and you knew he would keep it a secret. However, you also knew it just wasn’t worth the risk. You considered Ryan your closest friend, but Rebecca was family, and she had risked everything by telling you about the museum’s secret. You also remembered Larry’s torturous induction; Ryan’s dissertation would be finished by the time Larry actually let him meet an important display.

You shoved your phone into your bag and headed for the Village, picturing the delight on Ahk’s face when you surprised him tonight.

* * * * *

Even though you had to explain some of the newer pieces, like dice, Ahk was impressed with how close the reconstruction was. He immediately went over the rules and you then spent the better part of the night losing to him again and again. He was so happy that you didn’t mind at all. And when you finally won a single game, you were highly suspect that he had let you win.

“May I ask you something?” you questioned as you moved your piece to yet another square of bad fortune, falling further behind Ahk’s own seemingly blessed by the gods gamepiece.

Ahkmenrah rested his chin on his hand, a look of concentration on his face as he stared at the Senet board.

“You may ask me anything.”

“What was it like for you at Cambridge?”

Ahk furrowed his brows and looked up, disregarding the dice as he explained, “Well, when I arrived at Cambridge, it was the first time that I had awoken since my entombment. According to Jack, he was the scholar assigned to examine the findings from my tomb and he later became my close friend, the tablet was stolen right before my tomb was sealed. During the excavation of the pyramids, it was actually discovered sealed up beneath a statue of Anubis. For years, people thought it was cursed. Jack, he was such a clever man, pieced together that it was the Tablet of Ahkmenrah, although he got quite a shock when he reunited me with it.”

The game lay forgotten between the two of you as you listened to Ahkmenrah’s story. He had a strange look in his eyes, as if remembering something bittersweet that he had tried very hard to forget.

“You don’t have to tell me anymore if you don’t want to.”

“No, Y/N. I swore to always tell you the truth. It is painful to remember, but I suppose it’s a good kind of pain. It means I’m still human, still alive.”

Yes, you thought, it most certainly did.

Your mouth formed a small o of horror as you realized, “So you came to life, literally thousands of years later. That had to have been a shock!”

Ahkmenrah barked out a sharp laugh.

“To put it mildly, yes. If it weren’t for Jack, I think I would have lost my mind. He was so patient, obviously eager to learn, like you, but he really took time to explain everything to me. He would sneak me out to take me to all of Cambridge’s museums, and he even took me to the Museum of Natural History. He helped me understand where I was, what life was like now—well, then. He taught me the history of my empire, and more importantly, empathized with me as I grieved for the loss of everything my people had worked to build.”

“Oh, Ahk, do you still feel that way? Like your Egypt has been lost?”

“In some ways, yes, because it certainly has. That way of life, my way of life, is gone. But Jack showed me many of the things that my people have given to this world and that brought comfort.”

“And that was in the 1940s? 50s? We now know even more about the advancements that are credited to the Egyptians, probably because of the work of people like Jack.”

And then it dawned on you: “Wait a minute. Jack. As in Jack Cecil Evans?”

“Yes. Do you know of him?”

You reached into your backpack and pulled out your laptop. Ahkmenrah moved to stand behind you, watching your fingers dash over the keys. Google retrieved several images of Jack, along with the many articles he published on the subject of the Tomb of Ahkmenrah. Ahk was Jack’s life work.

Ahkmenrah reached out a shaky finger and traced it over the image of Jack on your screen.

You quietly asked, “What happened to Jack?”

Ahkmenrah took a deep breath and returned to his seat across from you, his eyes glistening in the light.

“He died a few years before my exhibit was moved to the United States. I suppose that is when I really began to understand loneliness. Jack knew he didn’t have much time left, so he ensured that I would be safe, able to get out and to move. It wasn’t long, though, before the allure of my tablet attracted those awful men who moved me here and locked me up.”

Silence settled between the two of you, Ahkmenrah lost in his memories, you lost in making sense of the layers of pain that Ahkmenrah hid beneath his cheerful demeanor.

“Ahkmenrah, if there’s one thing I could do for you, what would it be?”

“You have given more already than I could have ever hoped. You are proving to be as good of a friend as Jack, except, you’re a bit younger and much prettier.”

Your soft laughter pulled a smile from Ahkmenrah.

“I’m being serious, though. What do you want or wish you could do?”

Ahkmenrah’s face transformed as it filled with a childish excitement, making him look much younger than his 20 years.

He spoke softly, as if afraid someone might overhear: “I want to see the city, really see it. I want to know life as a normal, modern man.”

Once again, you found yourself forsaking your rule, and you broke out into a grin because Ahkmenrah’s excitement was contagious.

“Ahk, that’s a pretty simple request.”

“Is it? You go and ask Larry. I’ll wait here and listen for his bellow.”

“Larry doesn’t own you. You were a king, Ahk.”

“Perhaps Larry needn’t know?”

“No, he needn’t,” you said slowly, returning Ahkmenrah’s sly grin.

You began to chew on your bottom lip, thinking deeply about what you would need to do to take Ahk out for a night. Clothes and shoes, maybe practice with those, figure out places to go, you didn’t want to wander around in the city and overwhelm him, and—

“Care to share?”

“I think we need a night to plan. I can pick up some clothes tomorrow morning and tomorrow night we will make sure they fit. Then we need to plan out where you want to go.”

Ahkmenrah, his voice filled with anticipation, asked, “May I offer some suggestions of places I have been most curious to explore?”

“Of course! It’s your night!”

“There was a photography exhibit a few months ago that showed the view from the Empire State Building. I am curious to see just how high this building is.”

“Done. I’ve got a friend who can get us tickets. What else?”

“Music—some of my favorite nights during my youth were sneaking into my parents’ parties and listening to the music, watching the dancing and revelry. I miss. . .people.”

You smiled, sadness tugging at your heart, but knew this wish was an easy one to fulfill, too.

“Also as good as done. I know the perfect place in the Village, and it’s near my apartment.”

Ahkmenrah’s face threatened to split into two as his grin widened even further.

“Jack told me about life and he explained it well, but he never let me live it. When I was locked in my sarcophagus, I spent most nights worrying that I would never get the chance to live. And you know how Egyptians felt about the gift of life.”

Indeed, you did. Well, so much for your rule—you’d have to once again reconcile that what you were doing for Ahk was more meaningful than maintaining a boundary. Besides, just because you were giving Ahkmenrah a taste of life didn’t mean that you were in love with him; you were being a good friend.

“I’m going to duck out a little early tonight to get some sleep. I’m meeting a friend for brunch tomorrow, before work, so I’ll need to run the errands first.”

“Thank you, Y/N. I am forever indebted to you for your kindness.”

“Uh, remember those 4,000-year-old papyruses you gifted me with to allow me to finish my dissertation proposal? I’d say we are barely scratching even.”

Ahkmenrah couldn’t stop smiling and you elbowed him in the ribs as he walked you to the front desk to say goodbye to Larry.

“Stop smiling,” you hissed. “You’re terrible at being discreet.”

Ahk composed himself for all of 10 seconds.

“Fun night?” Larry asked, raising his brow and taking in Ahkmenrah’s unabashed happiness.

“Y/N brought me a game that we used to play in my time. It was a real. . . blast from the past.”

Larry laughed and you chuckled, too.

“You’re really catching onto the slang, Ahk,” Larry said.

“I’ve always been a quick study.”

“Goodnight, boys. I’ll see you tomorrow!” you called, waving as you dashed out.

* * * * *

Shopping had been a success, although you were now ten minutes late for your brunch with Ry, which was highly uncharacteristic for you.

“I was about to call the coppers.”

“Sorry—had to run some errands. I’m starving, though!”

You picked up your menu and scanned for what you wanted. Ryan knew you well enough to know that you couldn’t focus on anything he said until you determined what you were ordering. Once the waiter returned and the two of you placed your orders, you turned your full attention to him.

You asked him how he thought his proposal turned out, and he explained what he wanted you to look for during your proof. He knew your time was limited, but you assured him that you didn’t mind.

Conversation flowed without effort and you found yourself smiling, falling into the charm that was Ryan. Things were so easy with him, so easy in the bright light of the sun that streamed through the window of the café.

“Our mates are all headed out tomorrow night. Any chance I can convince you to meet up?”

“Tomorrow, huh? I’ve—”

“You’ve got plans,” Ryan said, his smile faltering a bit. “Any chance you wanna tell me what’s got you so busy all of a sudden?”

“The same thing that’s going to have you so busy soon enough. I thought you and I didn’t do the whole jealousy bit?”

“I’m not jealous—just curious.”

“Mmm. You forget that I know you better than that.”

“I don’t want you working too hard. You know how you get, Y/N. Your passion for your research is enviable. Is it wrong to wish that maybe you were that passion about something else? To keep a little hope that maybe it could be me?”

“If you recall, I showed up at the airport and begged you to take me to Australia with you for the summer after the first year of our ‘friendship.’ God, I’m still not over that embarrassment.”

Ryan laughed, the sparkle returning to his eyes.

“What happened to that girl?”

“She’s still here, just a little preoccupied.”

“Well, I’ll text you, just in case you change your mind about Saturday.”

Ryan held the door open for you as you exited the café. He pulled you into a tight hug, and asked, “Going my way?”

“You know I am,” you replied and linked your fingers with his proffered hand.

You and Ryan walked to NYU, hand in hand, the sun warming your skin and wrapping you up in his radiant energy.

* * * * *

You had bought two sizes of everything, planning on returning what didn’t fit to the store tomorrow. It had been a long time since you had a boyfriend to dress up, so you were really loving the idea of seeing what Ahk looked like in your purchases. You also brought along some product to attempt to tame his curls.

You crammed all of your purchases into your backpack, while simultaneously cramming down any thoughts about what you were doing. Brunch with Ryan had reminded you of exactly why you shouldn’t be getting so close to Ahkmenrah. The two of you would never stroll hand in hand through the New York streets in the sunlight. You could never wake up in Ahk’s arms, and the thought of exactly what would happened if you did should have been enough to scare you straight.

Should have been.

Except, once again, there he was, and he was barely able to keep from bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet the instant he saw you.

Ahkmenrah swept forward, his cape billowing behind him, as he grabbed your hand.

“Come on—I know where we can go to avoid detection.”

You followed Ahk through the museum and into an old, clearly forgotten storage area. Stacks of boxes lined the walls, overflowing from the shelves that also had boxes and items of antiquity stacked to the ceiling. The room was about the size of a modest living room and was cast in a greenish hue from the single, fluorescent overhead light.

Ahkmenrah locked the door, stating that as far as he knew, no one at night had a key.

He started shedding his garments, faster than you could register and when he pulled his belt off, you said, “Whoa. I know nakedness isn’t, like, a thing for Egyptians, but it is for me, well, us, you know what I mean. . .”

“My apologies. I am just so eager!”

You laughed shaking your head and pulling the clothes from your bag.

Ahkmenrah stood patiently now, and it occurred to you that he seemed to be more presence than actual personhood. He was fit, gorgeously proportioned, but he wasn’t a big guy. You sifted through your purchases and selected the smaller sizes.

You pulled out a package of boxer-briefs and explained to Ahkmenrah that he should put these on before his pants.

He examined the underwear closely, his nose scrunching up at the idea of being constrained, then proceeded to ask no less than ten questions. You considered yourself a patient person, but finally just exclaimed, “Ahk! Try them on!”

He hooked his thumb into the tie of his shendyt and pulled, and you whirled around to give him the privacy that he clearly wasn’t concerned about.

You listened to his shuffling and when he stilled, you asked, “Are they on?”

“Yes.”

You turned around and drank in the sight of the once-king in nothing but a snug pair of white boxer-briefs. The white complemented the darkness of his skin, even under the subpar lighting, and for the first time, you noticed the faint trail of dark hair that led beneath the waistband of his newly donned garment. His legs, just as perfectly proportioned as the rest of him, were muscular, strong, and you found yourself wondering if you could make the muscles of those thighs twitch if you were on your knees—

“Does this look suitable?”

You swallowed as you attempted to appear perfectly in control of your body’s reaction and nodded.

“What’s next?” Ahkmenrah asked, still barely containing his excitement.

You grinned, “Pants.”

“Damn.”

“Come on. Don’t discount them before you’ve even tried them.”

You had chosen a pair of tight-fitting tan pants made of a soft, stretchy fabric. You were a little worried about his reaction to them, so you had also bought a pair of looser fitting jeans as a backup.

You handed the pants to Ahkmenrah and he put them on slowly; you couldn’t hold in your giggles at the faces he made as he pulled them up his legs and over his hips. It was like you’d made him try on pants made of fire and barbed wire instead of cotton.

Then, he puzzled over the hook-snap and the zipper for a moment before declaring he was afraid of getting something important caught if he were to zip up the pants. You laughed and told him to tuck himself in while you grabbed the two sides of his open pants. You assured him that everything would stay safe as you zipped up the zipper. Ahkmenrah sucked in a breath, clearly terrified. You showed him how the snap worked, and once he released the breath he was holding, you stepped back to look at him.

The pants were certainly snug, but they fit him well. He was standing with his legs comically spread a part, clearly unsure about being this confined.

“And this was why I wanted to practice,” you said as you pulled a shirt out of your backpack.

“Alright, last piece before shoes. I think you’ll like this one.”

You pulled out a thin, black, long-sleeve shirt. You figured it would be the perfect balance for a New York summer night that was muggy, but sure to cool as the night wore on.

“This is nice,” Ahkmenrah said as he ran his hands over his arms and smoothed out the material.

“I thought so—it’s primarily a linen blend, something not too far removed from your clothing. And now for shoes.”

You pulled out a pair of black, high-top tennis shoes that looked like a more expensive version of Converses. Ahkmenrah’s feet ended up being a little bigger than you thought, so you’d have to exchange for a size up, even though he didn’t want to admit that his toes were flush against the shoe.

“I promise it’s not a big deal. I’ll bring the right size tomorrow. Our night won’t be delayed. You wouldn’t even believe how easy it is to just get another pair of shoes.”

“I believe it if you say it is true, but it is still difficult to imagine.”

“If we have time, we’ll walk by a shoe store so you can see just how many pairs are readily available.”

“Do I look acceptable?” Ahk asked, biting his lower lip, his eyes shining with worry.

You smiled as you took in Ahk’s appearance before nodding your affirmation.

“But let’s get to work on that hair.”

#Ahkmenrah #ahkmenrah fanfiction #ahkmenrah imagine #ahkmenrah x reader #natm ahkmenrah #NATM #rami malek imagine #rami malek

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ifuckinglovestvincent · 5 years

Text

Switching Lanes With St. Vincent

By Molly Young

January 22, 2019

Jacket (men’s), $4,900, pants (men’s), $2,300, by Dior / Men shoes, by Christian Louboutin / Rings (throughout) by Cartier

On a cold recent night in Brooklyn, St. Vincent appeared onstage in a Saint Laurent smoking jacket to much clapping and hooting, gave the crowd a deadpan look, and said, “Without being reductive, I'd like to say that we haven't actually done anything yet.” Pause. “So let's do something.”

She launched into a cover of Lou Reed's “Perfect Day”: an arty torch-song version that made you really wonder whom she was thinking about when she sang it. This was the elusive chanteuse version of St. Vincent, at least 80 percent leg, with slicked-back hair and pale, pale skin. She belted, sipped from a tumbler of tequila (“Oh, Christ on a cracker, that's strong”), executed little feints and pounces, flung the mic cord away from herself like a filthy sock, and spat on the stage a bunch of times. Nine parts Judy Garland, one part GG Allin.

If the Garland-Allin combination suggests that St. Vincent is an acquired taste, she's one that has been acquired by a wide range of fans. The crowd in Brooklyn included young women with Haircuts in pastel fur and guys with beards of widely varying intentionality. There was a woman of at least 90 years and a Hasidic guy in a tall hat, which was too bad for whoever sat behind him. There were models, full nuclear families, and even a solitary frat bro. St. Vincent brings people together.

If you chart the career of Annie Clark, which is St. Vincent's civilian name, you will see what start-up founders and venture capitalists call “hockey-stick growth.” That is, a line that moves steadily in a northeast direction until it hits an “inflection point” and shoots steeply upward. It's called hockey-stick growth because…it looks like a hockey stick.

Dress, by Balmain

The toe of the stick starts with Marry Me, Clark's debut solo album, which came out a decade ago and established a few things that would become essential St. Vincent traits: her ability to play a zillion instruments (she's credited on the album with everything from dulcimer to vibraphone), her highbrow streak (Shakespeare citations), her goofy streak (“Marry me!” is an Arrested Development bit), and her oceanic library of musical references (Kate Bush, Steve Reich, uh…D'Angelo!). The blade of the stick is her next four albums, one of them a collaboration with David Byrne, all of them confirming her presence as an enigma of indie pop and a guitar genius. The stick of the stick took a non-musical detour in 2016, when Clark was photographed canoodling with (now ex-) girlfriend Cara Delevingne at Taylor Swift's mansion, followed a few months later by pictures of Clark holding hands with Kristen Stewart. That brought her to the realm of mainstream paparazzi-pictures-in-the-Daily-Mail celebrity. Finally, the top of the stick is Masseduction, the 2017 album she co-produced with Jack Antonoff, which revealed St. Vincent to be not only experimental and beguiling but capable of turning out incorrigible bangers.

Masseduction made the case that Clark could be as much a pop star as someone like Sia or Nicki Minaj—a performer whose idiosyncrasies didn't have to be tamped down for mainstream success but could actually be amplified. The artist Bruce Nauman once said he made work that was like “going up the stairs in the dark and either having an extra stair that you didn't expect or not having one that you thought was going to be there.” The idea applies to Masseduction: Into the familiar form of a pop song Clark introduces surprising missteps, unexpected additions and subtractions. The album reached No. 10 on the Billboard 200. The David Bowie comparisons got louder.

This past fall, she released MassEducation (not quite the same title; note the addition of the letter a), which turned a dozen of the tracks into stripped-down piano songs. Although technically off duty after being on tour for nearly all of 2018, Clark has been performing the reduced songs here and there in small venues with her collaborator, the composer and pianist Thomas Bartlett. Whereas the Masseduction tour involved a lot of latex, neon, choreographed sex-robot dance moves, and LED screens, these recent shows have been comparatively austere. When she performed in Brooklyn, the stage was empty, aside from a piano and a side table. There were blue lights, a little piped-in fog for atmosphere, and that was it. It looked like an early-'90s magazine ad for premium liquor: art-directed, yes, but not to the degree that it Pinterested itself.

Coat, (men’s) $8,475, by Versace / Shoes, by Christian Louboutin / Tights, by Wolford

The performance was similarly informal. Midway through one song, Clark forgot the lyrics and halted. “It takes a different energy to be performing [than] to sit in your sweatpants watching Babylon Berlin,” she said. “Wherever I am, I completely forget the past, and I'm like. ‘This is now.’ And sometimes this means forgetting song lyrics. So, if you will…tell me what the second fucking verse is.”

Clark has only a decade in the public eye behind her, but she's accomplished a good amount of shape-shifting. An openness to the full range of human expression, in fact, is kind of a requirement for being a St. Vincent fan. This is a person who has appeared in the front row at Chanel and also a person who played a gig dressed as a toilet, a person profiled in Vogue and on the cover of Guitar World.

The day before her Brooklyn show, I sat with Clark to find out what it's like to be utterly unstructured, time-wise, after a long stretch of knowing a year in advance that she had to be in, like, Denmark on July 4 and couldn't make plans with friends.

“I've been off tour now for three weeks,” she said. “When I say ‘off,’ I mean I didn't have to travel.”

This doesn't mean she hasn't traveled—she went to L.A. to get in the studio with Sleater-Kinney and also hopped down to Texas, where she grew up—just that she hasn't been contractually obligated to travel. What else did she do on her mini-vacation?

“I had the best weekend last weekend. I woke up and did hot Pilates, and then I got a bunch of new modular synths, and I set 'em up, and I spent ten hours with modular synths. Plugging things in. What happens when I do this? I'm unburdened by a full understanding of what's going on, so I'm very willing to experiment.”

Coat, by Boss

Jacket, and coat, by Boss / Necklace, by Cartier

Like a child?

“Exactly. Did you ever get those electronics kits as a kid for like 20 bucks from RadioShack? Where you connect this wire to that one and a light bulb turns on? It's very much like that.”

There's an element of chaos, she said, that makes synth noodling a neat way to stumble on melodies that she might not have consciously assembled. She played with the synths by herself all day. “I don't stop, necessarily,” she said, reflecting on what the idea of “vacation” means to someone for whom “job” and “things I love to do” happen to overlap more or less exactly. “I just get to do other things that are really fun. I'm in control of my time.” She had plans to see a show at the New Museum, read books, play music and see movies alone, always sitting on the aisle so she could make a quick escape if necessary. But she will probably keep working. St. Vincent doesn't have hobbies.

When it manifests in a person, this synergy between life and work is an almost physically perceptible quality, like having brown eyes or one leg or being beautiful. Like beauty, it's a result of luck, and a quality that can invoke total despair in people who aren't themselves allotted it. This isn't to say that Clark's career is a stroke of unearned fortune but that her skills and character and era and influences have collided into a perfect storm of realized talent. And to have talent and realize that talent and then be beloved by thousands for exactly the thing that is most special about you: Is there anything a person could possibly want more? Is this why Annie Clark glows? Or is it because she's super pale? Or was it because there was a sound coming through the window where we sat that sounded thrillingly familiar?

“Is Amy Sedaris running by?” Clark asked, her spine straightening. A man with a boom mic was visible on the sidewalk outside. Another guy in a baseball cap issued instructions to someone beyond the window. Someone said “Action!” and a figure in vampire makeup and a clown wig streaked across the sidewalk. Someone said “Cut!” and Clark zipped over for a look. It was, in fact, Amy Sedaris, her clown wig bobbing in the 44-degree breeze. The mic operator was gagging with laughter. It seemed like a good omen, this sighting, like the New York City version of Groundhog Day: If an Amy Sedaris streaks across your sight line in vampire makeup, spring will arrive early.

Blazer (men’s) $1,125, by Paul Smith

Another thing Clark does when off tour is absorb all the input that she misses when she's locked into performance mode. On a Monday afternoon, she met artist Lisa Yuskavage at an exhibition of her paintings at the David Zwirner gallery in Chelsea. Yuskavage was part of a mini-boom of figurative painting in the '90s, turning out portraits of Penthouse centerfolds and giant-jugged babes with Rembrandt-esque skill. It made sense that Clark wanted to meet her: Both women make art about the inner lives of female figures, both are sorcerers of technique, both are theatrical but introspective, both have incendiary style. The gallery was a white cube, skylit, with paintings around the perimeter. Yuskavage and Clark wandered through at a pace exclusive to walking tours of cultural spaces, which is to say a few steps every 10 to 15 seconds with pauses between for the proper amount of motionless appreciation.

The paintings were small, all about the size of a human head, and featured a lot of nipples, tufted pudenda, tan lines, majestic asses, and protruding tongues. “I like the idea of possessing something by painting it,” Yuskavage said. “That's the way I understand the world. Like a dog licking something.”

Clark looked at the works with the expression people make when they're meditating. She was wearing elfin boots, black pants, and a shirt with a print that I can only describe as “funky”—“funky” being an adjective that looks good on very few people, St. Vincent being one of them—and sipped from a cup of espresso furnished by a gallery minion. After she finished the drink, there was a moment when she looked blankly at the saucer, unsure what to do with it, and then stuck it in the breast pocket of her funky shirt for the rest of the tour.

A painting called Sweetpuss featured a bubble-butted blonde in beaded panties with nipples so upwardly erect they actually resembled little boners. Yuskavage based the underwear on a pair of real underwear that she'd constructed herself from colored balls and string. “I've got the beaded panties if you ever need 'em,” she said to Clark. “They might fit you. They're tiny.”

Earrings, by Erickson Beamon

“I'm picturing you going to the Garment District,” Clark said.

“There was a lot of going to the Garment District.”

As they completed their lap around the white cube, Clark interjected with questions—what year was this? were you considering getting into film? how long did these sittings take? what does “mise-en-sc��ne” mean?—but mainly listened. And she is a good listener: an inquisitive head tilter, an encouraging nodder, a non-fidgeter, a maker of eye contact. She found analogues between painting and music. When Yuskavage mourned the death of lead white paint (due to its poisonous qualities, although, as the artist pointed out, “It's not that big a deal to not get lead poisoning; just don't eat the paint”), Clark compared it to recording's transition from tape to digital.

“Back in the day, if you wanted to hear something really reverberant”—she clapped; it reverberated—“you'd have to be in a room like this and record it, or make a reverb chamber,” Clark said. “Now we have digital plug-ins where you can say, ‘Oh, I want the acoustic resonance of the Sistine Chapel.’ Great. Somebody's gone and sampled that and created an algorithm that sounds like you're in the Sistine Chapel.”

Lately, she said, she's been way more into devices that betray their imperfections. That are slightly out of tune, or capable of messing up, or less forgiving of human intervention. “Air moving through a room,” Clark said. “That's what's interesting to me.”

They kept pacing. The paintings on the wall evolved. Conversation turned to what happens when you grow as an artist and people respond by flipping out.

“I always find it interesting when someone wants you to go back to ‘when you were good,’ ” Yuskavage said. “This is why we liked you.”

“I can't think of anybody where I go, ‘What's great about that artist is their consistency, ” Clark said. “Anything that stays the same for too long dies. It fails to capture people's imagination.”

Coat (mens), $1,150, by Acne Studios

They were identifying a problem with fans, of course, not with themselves. It was an implicit identification, because performers aren't permitted to critique their audiences, and it was definitely the artistic equivalent of a First World problem—an issue that arises only when you're so resplendent with talent that you not only nail something enough to attract adoration but nail it hard enough to get personally bored and move on—but it was still valid. They were talking about the kind of fan who clings to a specific tree when he or she could be roaming through a whole forest. In St. Vincent's case, a forest of prog-rock thickets and jazzy roots and orchestral brambles and mournful-ballad underlayers, all of it sprouting and molting under a prodigious pop canopy. They were talking about the strange phenomenon of people getting mad at you for surprising them. Even if the surprise is great.

Molly Young is a writer living in New York City. She wrote about Donatella Versace in the April 2018 issue of GQ.

A version of this story originally appeared in the February 2019 issue with the title "Switching Lanes With St. Vincent."

#st vincent #annie clark #gq #interviews #shakespeare citations #christ on a cracker #lmao

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punkbirdwitch · 5 years

Text

Sweet Mother Sappho

A longer poem about learning through history, self-discovery, etc. It’s a rough draft-- I’m not 100% satisfied with the storyline-- but, eh, here ya go.

---

Oh, Mother Sappho, though I’m not sure who you are,

I just found you in the trunk of my dad’s old beat-up car,

In a pile full of other stuff he used to want but doesn’t,

So I figured now would be the time to give myself a present.

I must admit that I’m not well-versed with verses,

Haven’t seen stanzas since Kwanzaa, and my rhymes could use work-- but!

Your face is on the cover and you look like you’re nice, so

I think I’ll come and read you-- only once or twice, I swear!--

And only when I’m curious about Aphrodite’s weaving,

Or carpenters and roofbeams or Gods who like deceiving!

I’d hate to be a bother with all of my incessant reading,

There’s just something ‘bout your passages I can’t help but find intriguing--

But maybe it’s just that my curiosity took

When I noticed finely scrawled within the tiny nook

Between the front cover and the page--

Faded some with age--

In graphite on the page, it reads, “Steph…

...

I hope you like the book.”

… My name’s Chris, by the way.

Oh, Mother Sappho, I know it’s only been one day,

But after our first meeting I can’t tear myself away!

And on top of that I realized that I’ve been a little flippant.

Dad always says that when I talk, my brain gets sorta distant.

My name is Chris, as I surely said before,

I’m 15 years old, born in the year Two Thousand and Four,

Which to you must seem like, I dunno, a billion years away--

If only you could see all of the stuff we have today!

My dad’s a docent-- uh, which means he works in a museum,

And I remind him he’s a nerd just about every time I see ‘im.

He takes folks ‘round to see the history, the time when you lived--

And money can be tight, so sometimes he works the graveyard shift.

I guess they save some headache by keeping the same guy

To glide across the floors by day and scrub ‘em by night.

But hey! I’m not complaining, and neither is he,

‘Cuz Empty Halls + Father/Son = Happy Memories.

I spent a lot of nights playing next to history,

Though how I (almost) never broke stuff still remains a mystery.

I played tag with the Huns, roshambo with Tommie Smith,

(A game I always won since he would always raise his fist).

My father told me tales from ancient times-- (Never quite PG)--

Then quizzed me on Mythology ‘til my mind was at its apogee!--

I’d hunt with Davy Crockett and paint with Vince van Gogh--

Might explain why a dead poet makes the second-best friend that I know. Ha!

But my favorite-- yes, the best-and-kindest figures of all

Were the warriors whispered about in the Women’s History Hall.

This was before they spread the female figures throughout the exhibits,

But in that hallway you could sense there was rebellious spirit.

Wollstonecraft and Curie, Shelley, Earhart and d’Arc,

I danced with Josie Baker, had some chats with Rosa Parks--

I fought entire wars with them as a tactician of sorts,

Then settled it with kindness, like you read about in books--

And it’s true that my childhood would have been less sleep-deprived

If I stayed at home while daddy made the money to survive,

But I’m a night owl through and through, a real child of Nyx-- (Still got it!)--

Which is why I’m sitting here with you at, like… 3:06.

… A.M. Yikes-- Mother Sappho! I’ve got to get to bed,

But thank you oh-so-kindly for the poetry I’ve read.

I hope that you don’t mind if this becomes a regular thing,

Like when I used to read soliloquies to Dr. Martin Luther King (‘s statue)--

God, with all that museum time, it’s weird I never met you.

But without further ado,

I’ll say good night to you.

… But Mother Sappho-- one thing keeps me awake,

A little shred of curiosity that I have yet to slake.

It pulls me in like the aroma from the master dish of a chef,

Oh, Mother Sappho…

… Who’s Steph?

Oh, Mother Sappho! Julie’s coming by tonight,

And whenever she comes over she just has to steal the spotlight!

Not that I mind-- I’m cool with being quiet at the table

While my childhood friend fills my open head with fables.

Our Hellish Elementary formed our crucible as friends,

And though it sucked, we only came out stronger in the end.

A nerdy girl, a “cissy” guy, playing sci-fi with dolls--

Didn’t really resonate within those tiny halls.

And of course I’d be remiss to not show her my new find--

I always try to have a new conversation topic each time

That she comes over-- Which she’s done quite regularly

Since she became my friend when no one else

Would hang out with me.

… But anyway-- She says she loves you, which is not a surprise,

It’s always been dead-dramatic ladies for whom she’s had eyes--

Not saying you’re dramatic, Sappho, I’m just trying to say,

That I’ve recently been wondering if you might’ve been gay?

I’m just saying! that’s the conclusion that I came to next

When the subtextual did floweth over into the text.

(O it makes my panicked heart go fluttering in my chest,

for the moment I catch sight of you there is no speech left

in me--) You see? You can’t blame me for thinking

That it was rainbow-colored nectar you and your friends were drinking.

And while Julie’s father has a chat with my dad,

I tell my lifelong friend about the conversations we’ve had--

And I can’t help but hear our fathers talking in the afternoon air,

Two strong voices rising through wood and laughing as a pair…

Though what they talk about’s a mystery-- dad says it’s “Nothing much--”

It’s rare for friends to have their dads like each other this much,

Aaaand I just rhymed “much” with “much”-- I told you I’m rusty!

But I think I’m getting better, you’ll-- just have to… Trust me?

Ugh.

Oh, Mother Sappho, I’m addling my brain--

If I don’t find out who this “Steph” is, I might just go insane--

Short for Stephanie, I’m sure, but why is it in my father’s hands?

And why would he discard in the back of our sedan?

Is there some pain within my father’s past he’d rather I not know?

...

You know-- I never had a mother, Mother Sappho.

Oh, Mother Sappho.

I spoke with Julie today, Oh, Mother Sappho.

Sweet Mother Sappho.

I had something to say, “Oh--

“You know,” I said, “I think that I would like to be a girl,

Even if not for forever, I’d still give it a whirl.

I’m unversed in verses-- It’s hard

To explain in the wrong key

But I get the feeling that not everything

Is quite all right with me.”

And she turned to me and smiled and said “Silly-- you can be.”

Oh, Mother, Sappho.

I’m addling my brain.

There’s something here inside my heart that I just cannot contain.

It doesn’t feel right--

And yet

It doesn’t feel wrong.

It just feels like I’ve

Never quite

Belonged.

And now I’m not sure where I’m at or what to do.

Mother Sappho, I don’t know what to do.

Oh, Mother Sappho…

…

Sweet Mother Sappho…

(Oh, darling daughter, I hope you know that you are strong

And that as you sat there rambling, I was listening all along.

Please pardon my language-- I’m afraid I’ve not rehearsed.

In this meter, I’m afraid that I’m the one unversed.

(You’re green and dainty, child-- what better thing to be?

And though your heart is violet, you’re as sturdy as the tree.

I hope you know I love you, no matter who you are,

For your soul is far more radiant than all the highest stars--

Now show them who you are--

My child, show them you are.

...

(And know

That you have nothing to fear.

You’ll know

When you understand how near you were

And are

To people just like you.

To people who love you.)

Oh, Mother Sappho, I hope you know you haven’t been misread,

And I think I found the meaning in that thing that you last said.

I realized what before I would not have believed in, ‘cuz--

“Steph” is short for Stephanie-- but is also short for “Stephen.”

I think my dad and I might need to have a talk--

In the morning. It’s 2:04, and I’m still sort of in shock.

Maybe once I tell ‘im, I can help him get a date.

Ha! Maybe…

It’s late.

Thank you, Mother Sappho, and just to set things straight-- (Which I guess I’m not, now, huh, Ms. Sapphic?)

You can still call me Chris-- it’s gender-neutral, yeah? It almost feels like fate.

Oh, Mother Sappho, I think that this feels right.

Thanks, and-- good night, Mother Sappho.

(Good night.)

#my stuff #my poetry #sapphic stuff #ocs

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pink-chevalier · 6 years

Text

The Couple Interview

Rules: answer the questions from your OC OTP’s point of view and tag as many people as you want.

I was tagged by @jupidella @aboxfullofocs @purplesimmer455 thank you guys so much for tagging me this!! Since I was tagged three times, I was thinking of doing three OTPs in other posts, and tagging a bunch of followers and people that follow me. What do you guys think?

My first set of tag are @esperilla @stucksimming @plumbbby @ashleysimmer11 @daisydezem @99simproblems @enniewritesathing @escapingpotplant

Let’s start with Danny and Leon, and the second post you all know who’s next :)

1. HOW DID YOU TWO MEET? Danny: *smiles* Well, our moms were friends before we were even thought about so we spent the rest of our lives knowing each other.

Leon: *giggles* I’m sorry that it’s a boring story to tell.

2. WHO IS THE MOST JEALOUS OF YOU TWO?

Leon: Danny. *nods*

Danny: *embarrassed* But, I got better about it!

Leon: *smiles* When we went to college, he didn’t like my best friend Flame, he had a bad feeling about him. *giggles* Flame spent some months trying to tell Danny that nothing’s going on between us two.

3. WHAT’RE YOUR 3 FAVOURITE PHYSICAL THINGS ABOUT YOUR PARTNER?

Danny: All of Leon is my favorite. *smiles at him* He’s such a beautiful person, and how can I just pick three things? But, if I have to, I guess it would be his eyes. How tiny he is next to me and his butt. He has such a big ass for a guy and for someone so small too.

Leon: *blushing* Pervert! *sighs* Danny’s arms, I love his hugs and when he hugs me tight. His curly brown hair, he wakes up with such crazy bed head. It’s fantastic, and shoulders.

4. WHO’S MORE LIKELY TO BE RUNNING LATE?

Danny: Without a doubt, Leon. No matter where we’re going or what we’re doing, he takes his sweet time trying to find something to wear, and if by some miracle he picked out his outfit before the day, he won’t like it once he puts it on and then we have to start the search for something new. *smiles at Leon* Honestly, people say women take longer to get ready they haven’t met my husband.

Leon: *arms crossed* That’s because after giving birth to five children, my body doesn’t look the same! It’s also hard to find jeans that fit me!

Danny: He has a skinny waist and a big ass. Shopping is difficult or all of us.

5. WHO IS THE MOST ORGANISED AND WHO IS THE MESSIEST?

Leon: Danny loves to be organized, and he likes to make sure that everything has its place.

Danny: Leon loves clutter and mess, and making the home look “homey.”

6. WHO IS THE BIGGER FLIRT? (FLIRTS THE MOST?)

Danny: *sighs* Before Leon starts shit I am, and it’s only because I’m in the political career and a few words here and there can pay off when I’m trying to move ahead in my job.

Leon: *nods* I’m not even mad about it because it’s like watching a wolf stalk it’s prey before attacking.

7. WHO DOES THE MOST COOKING?

Leon: I do! Before we all became adults, my mom taught us all how to cook because she was scared we would burn the house down.

Danny: I never learned how to cook like Leon.

Leon: That’s because of my mother’s Zenon Knight, the most amazing person and cook ever!

8. HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT KIDS AND DO YOU WANT THEM? IF SO HOW MANY?

Danny: *smiles* We love kids, and we grew up with siblings so having kids was a really easy thing for us.

Leon: Now having four boys and one girl was surprising and raising them was scary, but we think we did a good job.

Danny: *nods* Yup, we’re still doing a good job. And for the last question, we’re done having kids we moved on to the grandchildren stage.

Leon: Oh, Danny, I can’t wait for grandchildren!

9. WHO WEARS THE PANTS IN THE RELATIONSHIP?

Leon: *smiles* We both do, but sometimes I feel like Danny lets me do things because he doesn’t want to see me angry.

Danny: They say happy wife happy life, right? *smiles* I don’t want a pissed off Knight walking around.

10. WHAT’S YOUR PARTNER’S LEAST FAVOURITE HOUSEWORK TASK?

Danny: God, Leon hates doing the laundry. I would always see him do everything else, but that, it was like he was ignoring it making believe as if it’ll fix itself or something.

Leon: But, I got better at it when the eldest three moved out. It was just so many clothes! And listen, guys, Danny cannot wash a single plate. I don’t know what it is, but he hates it with a burning passion and would rather stick it in the fridge.

11. WHAT WAS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICED ABOUT EACH OTHER?

Leon: *smiles* His curly hair. Both his parents have straight hair so for me it’s a mystery on where he got that.

Danny: His eyes. They’re the most perfect shade of blue I’ve ever seen in my life.

12. WHAT DOES YOUR PARTNER DO THAT PISSES YOU OFF?

Danny: How indecisive Leon can be about certain things. It takes him about three thousand years to finally pick something and settle with it.

Leon: *pouts* At least it didn’t take me three thousand years to marry you! And Danny snores a lot sometimes that it makes it hard for me to sleep.

Danny: *chuckles* And that's why I bought him the noise canceling headphones.

13. WHERE’S THE CRAZIEST/WEIRDEST PLACE YOU’VE EVER HAD SEX?

Leon: *blushing* Okay, so Danny took me on this date to his cute museum, and we got lost. So, we started walking around, and we were flirting pretty hard with each other to the point that we got horny...

Danny: *smirking* and we found an empty exhibit, totally no people around and we just got it on right there.

Leon: We never went to that place ever again.

15. WHERE DO YOU SEE THE 2 OF YOU IN 10 YEARS?

Danny: *smiles* Still married and in love.

Leon: *giggles* Surrounded by a bunch of grandchildren.

#ts4 simblr #simblr

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poptod · 4 years

Note

hello! can i request something romantic with either ahk or snafu or really any rami character where y/n has round dark brown doe eyes? like so dark brown they look black if you’re not looking at them in sunlight? and he’s just flirting with them and he says something nice about their eyes? i have round dark brown eyes and i’m kinda insecure about them cuz they’re so common, and it’s been one shit-show if a week for me and i really just need to feel good about myself

notes: damn, i can totally do that for you. hope your weekend is much better than your week :) thank u for requesting and i hope you enjoy it !

WC: 2k

Life never worked naturally to your advantage. You were born average looking – nothing special on either side of the spectrum, with average hands and common dark brown eyes. You grew up poor and worked your ass off to get into a good college on a scholarship, eventually getting kicked out for something you didn't even do. You auditioned to be part of an orchestra, but there were too many violinists already, and you just 'didn't fit the profile'. You tried to be an artist, but no one liked your creations. You tried to pick up another instrument, but you couldn't afford a good one, and the last time you tried to buy a cheap guitar, the neck broke on the third use.

Because of these many happenstances (and the many more, less mentionable ones), you considered yourself unlucky. It was a fact of life for you as much as the sun's existence in other peoples lives, or that the superbowl was too long. Or guacamole wasn't good. Fortunately, the years of nothing ever coming naturally had made you into a fantastic worker, and by some rare stroke of luck, you found you were rather good at physical labor jobs. You weren't strong by any standards – in fact rather weak – but your attention to detail made you the janitor of a prestigious museum you visited twice as a child.

It wasn't a fantastic job, and the poor pay led to having five roommates, but you enjoyed yourself. You tried to do that in every aspect of life; finding the joy in menial tasks, or solace in duty. After all, you got to see wonderful recreations of history in the still wax figures, and learn heaps of knowledge from the many information panels you came across when making your way through the museum. The only truly unfortunate part of your job was the time – right after closing, but you had to finish quickly, as you weren't allowed inside at night. A stupid rule, but the night guard and Dr. McPhee were insistent on it.

They thought you didn't know about the exhibits.

They were, obviously, wrong. You knew, and you adored the magic behind it all. While you hadn't actually ever seen any of the exhibits come to life, you watched the news on an evening where the exhibits broke out, and with your knowledge of the Tablet curse, you pieced the mystery together.

You hadn't meant to take this long. McPhee was already pissed at you for 'accidentally' skipping over the men's restroom yesterday, and taking too long at your job would land you on thin ice, something you couldn't afford. With a hurried pace you finished sweeping the floors in the last room, storing the broom away and moving on to mopping. Checking your watch once more, you noted the time, mentally checking if you would be able to finish before closing hours.

Mopping the Egyptian room usually takes five to ten minutes, and closing is in two, you thought, despair settling in your stomach. What would you do if you 'found out' about the tablet? What would McPhee do if he found out you knew? He wouldn't fire you, would he?

You truly didn't know. He was a bit of a loose cannon when it came to those things.

As fast as you tried to move, the hours of night came faster than you could mop, and the tablet began to glow behind you. Bewildered you turned, watching with your mouth slightly parted as the glow grew to the radiance of the sun. You knew the tablet brought the magic, but you didn't know about the glow – now that you were witnessing it yourself, the only thing you could feel in your pounding heart was fear. A fear that only grew worse when the Pharaoh's sarcophagus began to rattle.

You'd thought about the wax figures coming to life. You thought about the dinosaur. You, however, did not think about the 4,000 year old mummy.

Needless to say, you bolted. Leaving behind your supplies, you ran as fast as you could, wind pounding past your ears as the sound of a lion's roar came from the neighboring hall. You grit your teeth and made for the main entrance, but by the time you got there many of the exhibits had adjoined in the main room. Pressing yourself against the locked door, you watched with wide eyes as the Teddy Roosevelt statue began to talk to Attila, and in that moment you realized that perhaps magic was not always good. Not when you were spiralling into a panic at least.

It took a couple hours of you staring into space before anyone actually noticed you. To your surprise, it wasn't the night guard, or even McPhee – it was a Pharaoh, skin and everything intact. His crown remained polished upon his head, a stark difference from the crowns on exhibit, whose colors and carvings had faded long ago.

"Hello," he said with a pleasant, polite smile as he knelt, matching the height of your seated position on the floor. "Are you a new exhibit?"

You looked down at your clothes. Janitor clothes.

"No," you said, and instantly his demeanor changed.

"Oh dear," he said, and though you agreed with that statement, you certainly did not agree with him grabbing your wrist and dragging you into the crowd.

"I don't really want to be doing this," you said in a shaky voice, but he did not answer.

As he dragged you through the crowd you kept your eyes closed, wary of overstimulation of both ears and eyes. He eventually stopped at the top of the stairs, where you opened your eyes to find the night guard, Larry.

"What are you still doing here?" Larry asked almost frantically, looking between the dancers below and you.

"In my defense I didn't want to be here, I knew about the magic and I don't – I didn't ever want to actually see it," you half-lied.

"How the hell did you know?!"

"You don't do a very good job of covering it up, Larry," you said flatly, your voice still cracking from nerves.

You didn't have very many friends. Your roommates didn't talk to you much, and the life you had outside of work consisted mostly of quiet, indoor hobbies you could do just about anywhere. So, once the whole of the situation was sorted out (with input from McPhee), you took your drawing pads and notebooks to the museum with you, working for the first few hours and drawing into the hours of night while watching history come to life.

Despite your original discomfort of being in the presence of a 100% authentic, come-to-life mummy, you became rather good friends with him. Not fantastic, and he didn't know very much about you, but he was kind and handsome. You hated to admit it, but he held your avid interest. Another one of those unlucky things in your life – of course you had to fall in love with an immortal, reanimated mummy who only came to life at night.

"Why don't you ever come dance with us?" Ahkmenrah (his name, apparently) said as he sat down beside you on the loft, the only barrier between you and a fifteen-foot fall being a stone rail.

"I'm afraid I'm not all that good of a dancer," you said, not bothering to look up from your sketchbook. You couldn't ever bear to look at him that long anyway.

"Neither am I," he laughed. "That's the point."

Instinctively you looked up at him, holding eye contact with his grey eyes for only a second before you looked away, a blush already making its way to your cheeks. He had the opposite of your life – lucky beyond belief. The favorite of his parents, completely immortal, completely beautiful, almost too wealthy, and many, many friends, including yourself.

What got you the most however was his eyes. Cold eyes were already praised in modern society – people loved grey, they loved blue and green. But in Ahkmenrah's society, the one that existed thousands of years ago, blue eyes hardly existed. The mutation for the new color was one in a billion back then, making him one of the (probably) three people on the planet with blue eyes. And now that lucky mutation stood before you in its purest, oldest form, and you couldn't bear to look at them for any longer than a solitary moment.

For some reason, it hurt you. Maybe because you were boring. Dull. Brown in a brown society. Sure, they looked beautiful in sunlight – you knew that. They turned into swirling gold and the taste of chocolate, but Ahk couldn't see them in the sunlight. That made you dull.

Now, Ahkmenrah was not a man to point things out about people. If they were being a dickhead, yes, but most of the time he noted things and dismissed them. But you'd been doing this for so long that he grew weary of the dance.

"Why don't you ever look at me?" He asked, a question that had your eyes widening and your back straightening, alarm bells ringing all over your brain.

"I look at you plenty," you said while avoiding his gaze like a 15th century doctor avoids respecting women.

"No, you don't," he said softly. "Not even now. I wish you would – you've got such beautiful eyes."

Your sketching stopped at his words. At your silence he placed his hand on your jaw, tilting so you looked at him. Instead of meeting his gaze you looked to the floor.

"They're very common," you got out weakly, still unable to make eye contact, but he kept you where you were, in the easy sight of him. "They only look good in the sun."

He shifted closer, keeping his hand on your jaw in hopes of you changing your mind and meeting his eye.

"Even in darkness they're beautiful, voids as empty and long as night," he hummed, drawing closer yet till you could feel the heat off his body on your still fingers. "I've noted them quite a lot. Eyes are a beautiful thing, aren't they?"

"Yours are," you mumbled, barely catching the meaning and insinuation of your words before they came out.

"As are yours. Remember when we snuck into McPhee's office? The lamplight bounced off of them and they practically glittered like the embers and smoke of a fire," he said with a small smile. "And the bright lights in the hallways –"

Florescent, you thought.

"– and the candle lights that Nick brought, those flicker with that same spark within you. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

You couldn't move, stuck in place and stuck in your own head.

"The golden fireplace, Christmas lights – and the light of the moon, a dim, faraway light that can only be admired from a distance... like you," he murmured.

Sometimes you forgot his people were poets and admirers of nature.

"You have blue eyes," you whispered through the knot in your throat. He listened carefully. "And... I can see reflections in them. They're soft, like velvet. Despite everything, they.. you seem... happy. You always seem happy, and your eyes give it away."

"Have you ever kissed anyone?" He asked quietly, and in that moment you realized his nose was almost touching yours.

"No," you answered honestly. Another unlucky aspect of you.

"Neither have I," he said before he leaned in, pressing his lips against yours in a tender embrace you weren't at all expecting.

From both the view of the first kiss and of a Pharaoh's kiss, you weren't prepared, but the plush of his pink lips against yours sent sparks of delight into your heart. He moved slow, taking his time to map out your aspects just as you began to trail your hands over his open palm, memorizing the creases. You were reluctant to part, but he ran his hand through your hair and your brain short-circuited into placitude.

"You have the softest lips," he murmured, hand coming to cup your cheek once more.

You never applied aquaphor or did anything to make your lips soft.

Maybe it was luck.

Didn't really matter to you, because he kissed you again, and your eyes fluttered shut as everything in the world but him faded away.

#ahkmenrah x reader #Ahkmenrah #Night at the Museum #rami malek #rami malek character

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soulwounds-a · 6 years

Text

was that rami malek ? oh no no , that was just ahkmenrah , a canon character from night at the museum . they are 4,000+ ( physically around 18 - early 20s ) years old and are aware that they are not actually from washington d.c.

mummies are people too ! --------- so recently i rediscovered my love for night at the museum & got distressed over how under appreciated those wonderful little movies are so here i am bringing in my darling little pharaoh boy who’s just absolute sunshine despite the fact that sometimes he’s a little sardonic .

how long has your character been here ?

he’s barely been here a day . he arrived waking up at sunrise in the smithsonian , entirely unaware of how he got there . he was very spooked as to how he got there & , more importantly , how he was awake yet no other exhibit there was .

he didn’t spend long in smithsonian , though , as he wasn’t too pleased to be there knowing his brother , kahmunrah , was held there . ahk has heard controversial things about his brother from his friends in new york after they met him in their escapade at the smithsonian years ago . one thing he’s heard being that kahmunrah confessed to murdering him ( which , in the original natm 2 script , he does ) .

what is your character’s job ?

he’s a four thousand year old pharaoh who’s only ever spent his time in museums . while he doesn’t have a job now , he’s considering looking into either working for the smithsonian , cautious on it only due to his brother , or looking to work for a university in the city if there’s an opening in an egyptology department for one . he was on display at cambridge for sometime so he’s familiar with a university setting , he’s very well read , obviously knows more than the average person about ancient egypt , & no one can quite read hieroglyphics like him .

where has your character been pulled from in their fandom ?

from around a year after the end of natm 3 ! ahkmenrah has been living with his parents in the british museum of natural history for the past four years .

has any magic affected your character ?

yes ! ahkmenrah is without his tablet that brings things to life at night but , despite that , he seems to still be alive . more than that , even , because the magic has brought him fully back to life ! unlike the restrictions of the tablet that prevented him from being alive during the daytime , the magic of the town has fully resurrected ahkmenrah . he stays alive past sunrise & can step into the sun again without turning to dust . he’s very , very excited about this considering he hasn’t been able to go into the sunlight or seen the daytime in somewhere around 4,000 years .

other information

according to the natm novelizations , ahkmenrah is physically only around 18 years old .

yes , rami malek is like 36 now but he was about 23 in the first natm which was released 12 years ago . i’m gonna try to be sticking to natm footage of him for gifs .

he’s gonna love modern fashion ... he’s gonna love crop tops .

he’s gonna wear so many crop tops after being here a while .

ahkmenrah is not the best fighter but his mind is lethal . he’s very intelligent . he’s quiet natured a lot but is very observant & picks up on things quickly .

he enjoys learning a lot . he spent years worth of nights in cambridge just teaching himself english & reading what they had in their library . he taught himself fluent english & learned about the modern world on his own . dude is smart as whip .

loves some boogie disco music or eighties pop hits . loves 2 party . can dj .

very polite & friendly to most he meets but can be a bratty bitch sometimes . is used to getting what he wants & can get very sulky if he doesn’t get it .

in history , ahkmenrah’s death is recorded as happening suddenly from some “unidentified cause” . he himself remembers very little about his death . from what he’s heard from the exhibits in new york who met kahmunrah , though , his elder brother confessed to his murder . though ahkmenrah can’t remember it , he was killed by kahmunrah poisoning him in his sleep .

#my beautiful boy i love him so much #ahkmenrah intro #hw: intro #he gonna go out sunbathing soon as he can wtf #he misses sunshine sm #its so warm he loves it

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pharaohzeth · 6 years

Text

Train to the next station - a little puzzle/blindshipping one shot

He looked outside, the only thing to see was darkness. He sighed and looked around, there was no one else in the carriage.

He took out his ticket, it was in completely blank, he sighed again. Which was his station?

Had he told the others he would be leaving?

Did he remember to visit first grandpa’s grave?

Did he remember to pack everything?

Did he even brought his luggage?

Where was he even going?

How had he gotten in that train in the first place?

Irritated, he ruffled his hair. So many questions!

“Ugh” he decided to better think of nothing, maybe sleep a little. Yes, sleeping sounded good; he lied down, got comfortable and closed his eyes.

That courage brought us together!

I just want to be with you forever.

It's you I'm worried about.

Thank you. I'm grateful from the bottom of my heart. Partner!

Partner!

Yugi!

He opened his eyes slowly, it was not the first time his other self plagued his dreams.

He took notice of the little girl seated across him. She smiled and Yugi sat up.

“Hi, I'm Jennifer, but you can call me Jeni” she said and swung her legs “Who are you?”

“I'm Yugi, nice to meet you Jeni” he smiled.

“Nice to meet you too Yugi” she jumped off of her seat and sat next to Yugi “Why are you here Yugi?”

Yugi frowned, trying to remember, once again, the questions filled his head.

“I don't remember” he said.

“Well, I'm going to see my mom” she said determined.

“Alone?” he inquired. Jeni nodded, trying to not smile.

“Daddy gave me permission to come alone, because I'm a big girl now and he trusts me” her eyes shone with pride. Yugi couldn't help but smile.

“How old are you, Jeni?”

“I'm 5!” she said proudly showing him her tiny hand “How old are you Yugi?”

“I'm 26” she stared with wide eyes, Yugi giggled “I don't look that old, right?”

“You are very handsome for someone that old!” she said with a serious face, the compliment pierced Yugi’s heart, old.

“Thank you” she nodded.

The train stopped, then after a couple of minutes it moved again.

“Do you know which is your station?” asked Yugi, Jeni shook her head.

“But I know mom will be waiting there for me”

“Did your dad told you that?” she shrugged.

“I'm not sure” she said, but her smile didn't falter.

They stayed in silence for a moment before Jeni frowned briefly and spoke again.

“Did you leave people home, Yugi?”

“Yes; my friends, my mom” he said, he had the feeling that he wouldn’t see them in a very long time and that made him worry a little.

“Tell me about them, and I'll tell you about my daddy”

Yugi smiled.

“Okay” he said “I have quite some friends in Domino, there's Otogi, Honda, Mako, Mai, the Kaiba brothers” he counted with his fingers “Jounouchi, he is my best friend and also Anzu, there was a time I liked her” he smiled, so much good memories, he felt a heartwarming melancholy “And of course my mom; I guess that, since I won't be there she'll have to take care of the game shop alone” Jeni gasped.

“You have a game shop?!” her smile widened “I love games, my daddy and used to play twister every day” she said.

“Really? I love games too, I actually got crowned king of games” he laughed, she stared at him with admiration.

“Oh my god! That’s awesome” she covered her smile with her hands and tried to not burst in giggles, she swung her legs with more energy “King of games” she whispered, amazed by the title.

Yugi giggled, delighted with her reaction.

She calmed down short after.

“Right, we made a deal” he said to herself “I only left my daddy behind; he’s awesome, he’s my best friend, he helps me with my homework and plays with me, he also cooks very good” she counted “He’ll probably be worried until mom tells him I’m with her” she wondered “Is someone waiting for you?”

He didn’t knew, but he had the feeling there would be someone at the station, the thought was heartwarming but kind of out of nowhere, since he didn’t even remember if he told anyone that he was leaving.

“I’m not sure”

“For someone so old you sure don’t know a lot of things” she said with no bad intentions, Yugi snorted, he knew this.

The train stopped again.

“Jennifer!” the girl gasped.

“That’s mommy!” she shook Yugi’s arm, exited “Mommy!”

A young woman walked in, she really looked like Jeni, both with straight blonde hair and brown eyes.

“Mommy, this is Yugi, the king of games” she pointed at him when her mother picked her up “Yugi, this is my mommy” the woman looked at Yugi and smiled warmly.

“Thank you, for taking care of Jennifer in this journey” Yugi scratched the back of his head shyly.

“It's nothing really” he said.

“Mommy, Yugi doesn't know which is his station”

“Don't worry dear, I'm certain he'll know when to get off the train” she said before walking away, carrying the girl in her arms “Goodbye Yugi, and thank you again, for taking care of Jennifer”

“It’s nothing. Goodbye”

Yugi saved goodbye to his little friend, and she waved back.

After a minute or so the train continued its journey.

There was still nothing but darkness to be seen through the windows. He sighed again, how long had he been there?

He stood up and walked around the carriage, boring, the doors to the other carriages were locked, perfect, he thought sarcastically, he huffed, he was so bored it was starting to irritate him again.

After walking around a bit he let himself fall face down on his sit, he exhaled a frustrated ‘agh’ before turning around on his place.

He closed his eyes, decided to sleep some more.

Even if I never get my memories back.

I am no longer the other Yugi.

Atem.

The Pharaoh filled his dreams once again.

His heart ached, sometimes he wished he could just forget his other self, maybe then the loneliness wouldn't hunt him and his heart wouldn't feel so empty. But no, forgetting his other half would be thousands of times worst, his memories of him were his greatest treasure.

He stared at the sealing, not like he had much to do there.

He took the ticket out of his pocket and studied, it was still blank, except for his name and home city, he frowned, there must be something more to it, maybe if his other self was there with him, he max help him find the solution, after all, together they were unstoppable, kings of games, partners, two halves of a whole.

He closed his eyes, if only you were here, with me.

A melancholic smile appeared on his face, his heart thundered in his chest by only thinking of his other self.

When he opened his eyes and looked at his ticket again it had changed. The word Other had appeared on it, in big, black curvy handwriting. He sat up; it struck him like an arrow, that must be it! Whatever this weird journey was it had to do something with his other self!

He started thinking.

What had he been doing before waking up in that train?

Where had he been? With who?

He remembered feeling unwell that morning, he had got some work done with the Kaibas, then?

Then he had lunch with Ryo, Otogi and Jounouchi; Ryo, dear, kind, caring Ryo, he had been the first to notice that wasn't feeling quite well, of course he has dismissed the problem and told them that he was just a bit tired.

Then he went with Anzu to the movies, but he just kept feeling worst, they met Marik there and he took them to the museum to see an Egyptian exhibition.

He remembers his vision blurring, they were just finishing the tour and he remembers losing his breath, he fell, the last thing was Marik and Anzu yelling his name, had Marik called an ambulance? Probably he was very attentive and reacted fast.

Then.

Then?

Then he woke up in that train.

So that's it.

Indeed, that was it.

26 years.

What a short life.

Everyone must be worried about him.

He was dead. And yet, he felt really calm; yes, he was feeling kind of shitty because damn, only 26 years but, he wasn't freaking out nor feeling suddenly depressed.

Maybe it was because of him, he always made him feel better.

Is someone waiting for you?

Yes

He was sure of that.

The train stopped, he stood up, he felt as if a string pulled his heart; he almost ran to the door.

It opened.

The first thing he saw was the perfect embodiment of the A’aru*, just like the people of ancient Egypt described it, the view was breathtaking.

“Partner” he turned around.

Atem stood there, smiling brightly and with open arms.

Yugi’s heart was filled with joy and he threw himself to his other self.

“Other me!”

They hugged each other so strongly it hurted but neither cared.

“I missed you so much other me” he said.

“I missed you too, Partner” he put Yugi down and held his hand “Come on, the others are waiting”

“The others?” but walked away of the train.

“Some friends of mine who want to meet you” he said “and of course, grandpa” he looked at Yugi and smiled.

Yugi squished his other’s self hand.

“You haven’t changed Partner” he leaned down a little a kissed Yugi’s cheek, a pink blush appeared on his face as his smile grew.

“Neither have you, other me” he kissed the Pharaoh’s lips, making their faces redden.

A guffaw escaped Atem’s lips and the walked, laughing and holding hands, deeper and deeper into the field of reeds.

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

*The Field of Reeds (sometimes called The Field of Offerings), known to the Egyptians as A'aru

#Blindshipping #puzzleshipping #yugioh #yami yugi #yugi mutou #yugi moto #Yugi Mutoh #yugi muto #Atem #atemu #pharaoh atem #pharaoh atemu #one shot #fan fiction #fan fic #fan fic writing

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joondaily · 7 years

Text

All I See Is You

pairing: Boyfriend!Taehyung x Reader genre: Fluff warning: sugary sweet romance word count: 2317

Even if the world decided to swallow you whole and send you back to the days where you had struggled, so long as he was there, you would be happy, because loving him was the sole reason you lived so blissfully.

He’s late. You can’t believe he’s late. Is it not customary for the star of the show to arrive on time and greet the incoming guests? Instead here you are, watching as the exhibition to your boyfriend’s latest gallery open its doors to the massive crowd waiting outside. It is difficult to believe how he has managed to build a positive reputation with his habits of tardiness. The beginnings of a lecture start to run through your mind, it’s rehearsal driving your nerves upward. However, before your irritation can be vocalized Taehyung appears a few ways down the street, fingers fumbling with his brightly patterned tie.

As angry as you are at him, your heart couldn’t help but skip a few beats when the sunlight hits his profile, casting shadows beautifully across his skin just before a smile breaks across his features and he sends his arms into a high wave to greet you. The man who could so easily be mistaken for a sculpture is currently sprinting down the sidewalk, his long coat desperately trying to catch up to its owner.

“Finally, I was beginning to think you bailed.” You reach your hands up to recover the damage the wind has done on Taehyung’s curls, stifling a laugh at his shaggy appearance. Before you could move a single strand back in its place, however, steady hands wrapped around your waist and lifted you into the air that had you squealing as your boyfriend spun you around.

“Babe, I was trying to look like a true artist. You know that artistry is in the least expected of places, like my bed head.” He places a light kiss against your forehead as he sets you down, eyes sparkling as he properly looks at you for the first time today. “Though I see that you’ve managed to outdo me again, as expected of my world-class fashion designer.”

You huff and brush off his compliment, turning your face away ever so slightly so that your crimson cheeks could take shelter behind you locks. How he manages to set a thousand butterflies free in your stomach after all these years baffles you, but you do nothing except let your heart swell bigger than it already is. You grasped his hand, and urged him into the museum where the many adventures you and Taehyung had been on together were on display for the world to see captured in timeless photographs.

Taehyung doesn’t let go of your hand as he navigates the pair of you two through the crowd, nodding polite greetings to those who recognize the young, talented photographer. You could tell that your boyfriend was particularly excited to give you a private tour of his exhibit, even though you had lived through most of the moments captured on the walls. You give his hand a little squeeze as the two of you passed by the time when Taehyung thought it was a good idea to go to a see-in-the-dark restaurant for date night, forgetting that he himself was terrified of darkness.

“You ate all of my spaghetti that night, I’ll never forgive you.” You smile up to Taehyung. Who, to your surprise, was already looking back at you. “You even ate the meatballs.”

The two of you had been together for so long now, the adventures you had been on together were starting to blur. The one memory that remained clear, however, was the first picture you had ever taken of the beautiful man. Ironic how a journey with a photographer started with a shot you took of him.

Years ago, when you were just starting to navigate your talents in the fashion school, you had stumbled upon a ‘designer block’ for your senior assignment. The amount of stress and anxiety that had build as the blank sketch book stared back at you had became too much for you to bear. Deciding to look for inspiration elsewhere, or simply to clear your mind, you grab your phone and head towards the park near your home.

You escape your narrow apartment as crimson leaves fall from their branches, paving a path for you towards rows of perfectly planted trees. You curse at the focus you left back at your drawing table and inability to absorb the beautiful the scenery around you, mind still desperately scrambling for fulfilling designs. Drowned in your thoughts, you failed to realize when the leaves had taken you right to a place where a living and breathing source of inspiration stood right before you.

Sunlight sneaks into your vision, causing you to squint at the tall figure before you. His facial structure could have been one worth many moons of work by a master, with a side profile so well animated you could not believe a simple human looked liked one of the gods. You longed to see his eyes, yet they were currently narrowed into the lens of a camera that looked far too professional for your purposes. His lips slightly parted in focus but you could not be bothered to follow his gaze, you were too mesmerized by the most beautiful man you had ever seen.

Years of fashion design education told you that turquoise silk pants and a red, striped flannel would have never worked together, but somehow, on him it did. The boy who stood before you could easily defy any rules you ever studied in your magazines and still turn it into art. Still trapped your trance, your hand unknowingly reached for your phone to take a photo for ‘inspiration’.

Snap

The device almost falls from your grasp as the sound gives away your actions and location. God. You remembered that you had forgotten to turn of the ringer from this morning’s alarm and you cursed at your forgetful mind, flames intruded you cheeks as you realize what you had done. Bracing yourself for an awkward explanation as a first impression, you calm your beating heart and practice how you will explain your actions to the handsome stranger, hoping that by a miracle he won’t embarrass you. However, before you could bend over to pick up the small device, the boy in red whipped his head around with a gaze of peculiarity as he strode lazily towards your frozen figure.

“Did you just take my photo?”

You glance up at him and mentally note that his eyes are akin to brown hazelnuts, just deep enough to make your heart melt. The words to justify yourself fell short, though, as the boy’s hand reached from his pocket and swiftly scooped up your phone.

“S-sorry! The sunlight was hitting the scenery so beautifully I wanted to commemorate it. If you’re unhappy about being in it, I’ll delete it.” You extended your hand out, expecting your small phone to be placed in your hands so you could carry out your promise, but he was no longer listening to you. Instead, he gave the screen a quick tap, bringing up his photo with a furrow of his eyebrows as if he were analyzing the image.

Blood rushed to your cheeks as you anxiously watched his actions, embarrassed at the photo’s obvious focus on him instead of the park like you described. You watch as his fingers zoom in and out on each corner of your screen, eyebrows now knotted. “You’re not a good photographer.”

“Excuse me?”

The boy looks up to meet your gaze and you confirm your suspicions of his eyes being capable of melting your very soul, hitching your breath as you attempt to not reveal the rapid beating of your heart. “I mean, you haven’t captured the light at all. The overall component of the shot is good, but your angle is causing the light to hit in all sorts of wrong places.”

He takes a big step towards you, causing you to scrunch tightly, afraid that you will surely combust if he as much as grazes your arm. “Look here, from where you took the photo the sunlight is completely blocked out. You should position the camera a little lower and put your primary focus on how the light hits my form. Exposure is everything with natural lighting.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

He flashes you a boxy grin and smoothly hands your phone back to you. “So you can take it again! Here, I’ll go back to where I was standing.”

Dumbfounded, you did as the boy directed and retook the photo from his said angle, unsure of why he wasn’t angry or why you were complying to his request. As you check the newly taken photo he runs towards you, swooping you in an almost-hug to look at the picture.

The sunlight hits the boy’s figure perfectly, highlighting his every feature as if they were kissed by Apollo himself. Beams of light trickle around him, making his oddly matched outfit stand out against the auburns of the autumn leaves. You almost joke and ask if he was a model as his stance was not an inch off from the previous one when you noticed his gaze.

While you were left daydreaming about his eyes before, in this version of the photo the boy was looking directly at you with his warm eyes. His gaze pushed up into crescent moons as if he was looking straight into your soul. You blush at how incredibly handsome this stranger is and try to convince yourself to treat him to coffee as payment for taking his photo.

“Oh, you did so well! I can’t believe you did that on your first try, you might be more of a genius than I am.” He leans too close to you, his every breath fanning your neck as he inspects your handiwork, and you urge the thought to turn and kiss him right then and there to the back of your mind. “I’m Kim Taehyung, by the way. Pretty lady who took my photo, what’s your name?”

“Babe. Baby!” You turn your head to see your boyfriend’s pouting face. “Were you listening to anything I was saying? What could you be thinking about that’s more important than me?”

“Where to buy the world’s loudest alarm clock so you’re never late again.” Inflating Taehyung’s ego right now would do nothing but encourage him to be late again in the future, so you bite back your memories and allow the photographer to lace his fingers through yours as you walk into the exhibition.

“I’m sorry for being late...most of the time. Let’s enjoy the exhibit, though, huh?” At the tug of Taehyung’s hand, the two of you start on a trip down memory lane. Initially you had objected his idea of using photos from every date the two of you had ever been on as the theme for his first major portfolio, but Taehyung’s eager whines made your stubbornness soften and you braced yourself for the world to know of your love.

A favorite photo of yours passes by, one of the old, narrow apartment your boyfriend had spent so many nights over at. The place was well beyond historic with its chipping paint and cracking floors, repair fees causing the two of you to live on nothing but instant noodles and crackers. It was almost silly how much you enjoyed being a broke student with Taehyung despite all its late night convenience store hunts and rumbling bellies.

It was, however, with him. The boy who made canned tuna taste like the freshest five star dish you had ever tasted, who made dollar store candles capable of wooing you deeper into romance, and the boy who made your saddest days your happiest. You remember how much the dependence on each other during your student days fortified your relationship with Taehyung, your love growing stronger with each smile he casted your way.

You shift your stance to remind Taehyung of the time when he was so hungry he contemplated eating the shell of his boiled egg, when you catch him staring down at you. “Why are you looking at me? We are here to see your work.”

“I’ve seen these photographs a million times while editing, happiest workdays of my life, may I add. I got to re-live all the times I found myself thanking whatever entity is out there for letting me meet you, all I ever see is you in these photos. All I see is you.”

As crimson flooded the apples of your cheeks, his grip tightened around your hand, his figure leaned into yours to brush his lips against yours in a soft kiss. The curve of his smile drew one of your own and with a tug of your hand in his, you pull him closer and delve yourself into the bliss that is Kim Taehyung. Time seemed to stop and all of the exhibit’s visitors seemed to have evaporated into time and space, it was just you and Taehyung, surrounded by your memories throughout the years.

He retreats from you but lingers, pressing a mere peck to the corner of your mouth with that same boxy smile, confirming that he is the only person in the universe that could fit you so right, so perfect. This boy who was a walking fashion catastrophe, who dedicated his entire career to loving you, who continuously showed you in all the most mundane ways why he had been your muse from the start. Even if the world decided to swallow you whole and send you back to the days where you had struggled, so long as he was there, you would be happy, because loving him was the sole reason you lived so blissfully.

His hands smooth over the back of your dress as you lean away from him, your fingers gently running over his cheek as your eyes drink in the masterpiece before you, the man you called yours. “All I see is you too.”

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