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yandere-writer-momo · 6 months

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Yandere Head Canons:

The Hands That Hold You

Yandere Assasin Harem x Oblivious Fem Reader

TW: Somniaphilia, uncomfortable themes, yandere, stalking, mention of size difference, potential of being held captive, cunninglingus, smut, etc

The town of Rellikhold, a peaceful town filled with quirky citizens. Each with a mysterious past and lack of warmth. And you had received a special invitation by the government to live in this new town! Aren’t you lucky?

Poor little you had no clue that this town was filled with ex-contract killers who’ve never felt warmth nor kindness in their life… they were all a moth to your flame. Each one wanting to stake a claim on you, even if it was at the expense of another’s life. You belonged to them.

Callum: Scotland (Florist)

Callum is a massive man with a soft yet muscular build. He has a thick red beard that he keeps trimmed and a mustache he keeps curled up. Callum also has red chest hair and arm hair (the curtains definitely match the drapes). He is 35 years old and a retired sniper. Callum has a heavy Scottish accent and he’s the warmest of the villagers.

This big, muscular red head was shocked when you waltzed into his shop. You were so small and your steps were so clumsy like a newborn fawn. Yet it was your eyes that caught his attention. He’s never seen someone’s eyes filled with such innocence. It intrigued him.

Callum is easily flustered with from your bright smile and warm personality. Yet he can’t help the intrigue he felt from your arrival. From one glance, he knew you were just a regular civilian… what on earth were you doing here? This place was so dangerous.

Yet you’re oblivious to everyone’s past and treat him no differently from a regular man! Your interest in his flowers warm his heart… Callum is immediately taken to you. You’re so cute and you’d fit so perfectly in his arms… he’s never felt this way before.

Callum often looks forward to your visits to his shop. The red head often reorganizes the flowers just to make sure they’re to your liking! Callum always makes sure his beard is well trimmed and his long curls are pulled up into a bun. He has to look presentable for his little lady!

Often lingers around you like a shadow when you’re in the shop. Callum would lose his marbles if you ever came into his shop with a visible wound or bruise. He’s extremely obsessed with your well being.

Callum often offers you his jacket and holds doors open for you, he’s a total gentleman. A gentleman who believes you’re his. He sees no other logical explanation on why you visit him so often. You have to have a crush on him, right?! Don’t worry… he doesn’t mind that you’re shy. He has no trouble taking the lead.

It will take a total of four months until he’s trying to be more physically affectionate towards you. Callum believes the two of you are dating. His large, calloused hands often brush against yours or he’ll grab your waist to steer you in another direction. He cannot get over the size difference.

You’ll often have free bouquets delivered to your house with cute hand written notes. Which are often accompanied by Gaelic terms of endearment. “M’eudail. Mo chridhe. Etc.”

And if Callum ever spots you with one of ten other villagers? His stabs at affection take a turn to be more bold. In his mind, you’re trying to make him jealous… not to worry! Callum will give you more of his time! Whatever you want, he will give you! Even the heads of your enemies neatly arranged in a bouquet.

Callum I willing to do anything to keep you happy and satisfied. He’s the least selfish of the others. If you want to have a sexual relationship with him, he’d be more than happy to oblige!

Callum will have you bent over every surface and even his shop (with the curtains pulled down of course). Just so he can stuff you with his thick fingers and fat cock. He’s extremely giving and he’s more than happy to perform cunninglingus on you.

One day, you went into his shop and were filled with such fright, it made his heart ache!

“What are you so scared for, m’eudail?” Callum husky voice asked. The large man made his way over to your disheveled form. “Has someone frightened you?”

Callum bent down to your level and held your cheeks in his palms. His thumbs brushed a few tears from your cheeks as he shushed you.

“It’s okay, mo chridhe. I’ll keep you safe.”

Günter: Germany (Police Officer)

A tall, muscular blonde riddled in scars from head to toe. His blonde hair is always cut in a military cut and he’s extremely stoic. No one can ever tell what he’s thinking and he hardly speaks. Günter is Char’s identical twin brother and also an ex bounty hunter. The pair are both 29 years old and very feared members in the community from their reputation.

Günter was extremely wary of you at first. He isn’t used to people taking notice of someone like him or being warm to him.

Günter is extremely stiff when you interact with him. He often glances the other way if you stare at him with your pretty eyes for too long. He’s unsure of why his heart flutters whenever you’re around. Günter has never been in a relationship in his entire life. He’s so awkward and quiet around you, but his stoic expression never shows it.

You once grabbed his hand when you tripped and Günter swore he was electrocuted. He was quick to help you up onto your feet as he silently checked you over. His heart thrummed in his chest when you gave him such a sweet, grateful smile. It’s how Günter realized he’s smitten with you.

Günter often offered to walk you home to keep you safe. He’s the least delusional of the others and a rather lucid yandere. He is aware of the difference of reality and his fantasies. Which is why he will never act upon them on you. Everyone else is free game.

If someone upsets you even the slightest bit, they are instantly on his shit list. And if they make you cry or try to harm you? They’re as good as dead. He’s the town’s cop and the most prolific killer of them, so what can they do to stop him?

Günter is very aware of the others’ twisted feelings towards you, especially Char’s. He often hides around the corner as he watches his sister wash your hair. He’s a bit jealous of the intimacy, but he knows better than to be greedy. He’s a cop, not a hairdresser.

He’s usually quite silent but he often shows you his soft side. Soft smiles and tender touches. Günter is incredibly gentle despite his massive height.

Günter would be over the moon if you wanted a relationship of any kind with him! If it’s sexual, you sadly won’t be doing much walking. Günter tries his best to be gentle, but he soon finds himself blowing your back out while he whispers German pet names in your ears.

Günter also secretly has a breeding kink so keep an eye on him. If he’s in the heat of the moment, he will whisper his darkest desires in your ear. Of how he wants you round and fat with his kids with a ring on your finger.

And Günter will not share. So don’t even think about sleeping with anyone other than him or he will make several attempts to baby trap you.

“Meine Liebe, why do you cry?” Günter asked you softly with a frown. The police officer sat beside you on the park bench, his muscular arms now wrapped around you in a hug. “You know you can tell me anything… did someone make you upset?”

You just rest your head on his chest which made Günter melt into a puddle. He’s quick to scoop you up into his arms. “Do you want to head to my home, meine liebes Mädchen? It’s getting dark out and it can get dangerous at night.”

And the instant you nod your head, you’re swept off your feet in a bridal carry. His normally stoic face now had a small smile on it.

Finally… you were finally coming home where you belonged.

Wan: China (Photographer)

Wan is an average height man of Chinese descent. He’s quite feminine appearance wise, but don’t like that fool you. He’s one of the most dominant of the villagers.

Wan typically keeps to himself. Hes not as massive or intimidating as the other men. His long black hair is typically pulled back into a braid and he usually roams the village’s park or beach.

Wan is a bit shocked when he first met you since he can tell off the bat that you’re a regular civilian. Did the government send you as some sort of social experiment to see if their retirement was successful? To see if a group of ex- bounty hunters can integrate into society without a hitch? How peculiar.

Wan often trailed you home to see if you had any attachments to any governments. He didn’t want a government spy ruining his idyllic life and he was not afraid to eliminate you if that were the case… but you were clean! Annoyingly so.

You had simple hobbies and a permanent smile on your face. You were friendly and warm like a dog… like a pet. It made Wan’s mind wander to more promiscuous thoughts. Would you enjoy a collar and a leash while he dominated every aspect of your life? Perhaps you would since you always greeted him with such a warm smile and baked goods. You must have some sort of attraction to him, right? Why else would you bake for an acquaintance so often? (Wan had no clue you did for all of your friends).

Wan often invited you out for walks with him on the beach while he snaps photographs. It’s when you accidentally enter one of his shots that turn his whole world upside down. How could someone be so beautiful?

Wan started to snap photos of you smiling and dancing when in his company but it wasn’t enough. These simple photographs simply wouldn’t do for him anymore.

What started off as innocent photography took a quick, dark turn into obsession.

Wan began to slip behind you in the shadows to follow you everywhere. Whether you were simply enjoying a meal or beverage, or even sleeping, Wan captured it all behind his lens. Wan wanted more! More. More. More. More!!

His photography room was now covered in photos of you. There was not a single empty space left of the wall or ceiling that wasn’t adorned with your being. His darkroom still had thousands of photos developing as well. Wan simply couldn’t get enough.

When Wan found out there were others, he was extremely upset. What on earth did you see in Callum or Günter? They weren’t nearly as impressive as him! Wan was slim and far more flexible. Wan could bend your body in ways it’s never been before.

Wan often snuck into your room to lay beside you. To inhale your scent and to caress your soft, pliable body. Would you freak out if you woke up to see him or would you submit to his desires? This risqué game of his never grew tiring…

If you begin a sexual relationship with Wan, he’s incredibly rough. He has incredibly sadistic tendencies such as pulling hair, choking, licking up your tears, and harsh spankings… but he will talk you through it.

Slender fingers stroked your cheeks as you slept soundly. Wan smiled at how unaware of your surroundings you were. How could someone be so cute?

“Lǎopó, you’re so precious…” Wan bent forward and tenderly pressed his lips against yours. In his eyes, you were his lover. His and no one else’s. “I just want you to be my beloved pet, bǎobèi.”

Wan pulled your covers over your shoulders and over his body while he spooned you. This was the only time you were all his and no one else’s… and that’s the way he preferred it to be.

Amari: Thailand (Musician)

Amari is an amab individual but prefers to go by they/them. The twenty four year old often enchant others with their ethereal beauty. They have sun kissed skin and long black hair that frames a symmetrical face, one would think they were carved by the gods themselves. Yet Amari is partially blind due to their final assignment so they were forced into an early retirement compared to the others. Yet they pretend they’re fully blind to appear weaker to the others. They’re one of the most dangerous of the villagers due to their unpredictable mannerisms.

Amari can often be found in Belladonna’s restaurant playing the khene. Their mystic melody is as intriguing as they are which often captivates their audience.

Amari is incredibly shy and will be startled at first if you talk to them. Yet they’re eager for the companionship. Amari is the easiest to get close to compared to the others due to their young age. If you compliment them, they’re completely enraptured by you. You think they’re beautiful?! You love their music? Amari cannot get enough of praise.

Amari often trails after you like a lost puppy. They will often play the ‘helpless blind’ card just so they can hold your hand. They can’t get enough of how soft you are. Oh what they wouldn’t give to be able to see you… there was not a doubt in their mind that you were lovely.

Amari will play their khene for you and sometimes they’ll even sing. They’re your own personal song bird! They’re willing to perform any song for you so long as you eagerly listen to them just like they eagerly wait for your praise!

Amari will want to spend every breathing moment by your side. They’re stuck to you like velcro and unmovable. Suffocatingly clingy due to them never receiving warmth, Amari cannot get enough of your sweetness. They want you all to themselves.

They cannot stand you giving your attention and affection to the others. Look at them! Listen to their music, you said it was lovely! Just be theirs! Please. Please. Please. Please.

Amari will pathetically beg for your love on their hands and knees. They will use every card in their deck to manipulate you into their hands. They will not share and they will not surrender you.

No matter how puppy like they are to you, they’re a monster the others will not go near. Being involved with them is like being trapped in a spider’s web. You were doomed from the first interaction.

They’re one of the only ones who will stoop low enough to take advantage of you in your sleep (besides Wan). Their mouth is always buried between your legs as you sleep completely unaware of their efforts to get you used to them. They can’t get enough of how sweet you taste. Of how your body contorts and your toes curl in pleasure. Sometimes if the moonlight hits your face just right, they can see your face. And they make sure to burn that image in their memory forever. Oh what they would give for you to know it was them.

Amari pressed kisses up and down your thighs as your back arches in pleasure. So beautiful… so unaware. You’re just like a butterfly caught in a spider’s web.

“I love you…” Amari whispered against your skin, the assassin ran a tanned hand through their long locks in an attempt to reel themselves in. It was easy for them to get lost in the moment, but they needed to be patient. “And I know you love me too.”

Amari pulls themselves away from in between your legs and rests their head on your stomach. A soft hum escaped their thin lips in thought. It was such a beautiful night and they were happy to spend it with you.

Char: Germany (Hair Dresser)

Char is Günter’s identical twin and they couldn’t be more similar if they try. It’s easy to confuse one for the other since Char looks incredibly masculine. The only difference is their placements of scars and her blonde hair is just a little bit longer.

It takes awhile to earn Char’s friendship. She’s quite self conscious of herself since she looks so much like a man. Compliments will win her over and make her blush. She’s quite fond of being called handsome or beautiful.

She enjoys washing and trimming your hair for you. She cannot get over how soft your hair feels between her fingers…

It doesn’t take long for her to fall for you compared to her brother. She’s another sucker for praise, but she gives praise even more. Char is the queen of pet names.

Char is incredibly protective of you, just like Günter. The difference between them is that Char collects little keepsakes from you. Oh yes, she has a shrine dedicated completely to you.

Char is obsessed with you. She collects the trimmings of your hair and any utensils you had used in her salon. She tells herself it’s to keep herself from acting on her impulses, but that’s a lie. She’s simply obsessed with you.

If you ever vent to her about any one in the village, especially new comers, she will get rid of them for you personally. Typically in a rather brutal fashion. Anyone who upsets you simply doesn’t deserve to live.

If you’re ever curious about her past, she will tell you. She’s the least secretive and the most honest. Char will even admit about her shrine of you if you ask. She wants to be an open book that you can read at anytime. Trust her.

Char will often flee to the back room of her salon if she gets a bit too riled up from her interactions with you. If you follow her to the back because you’re worried, there’s no guarantee she won’t have you bent over the break room table with her lips eagerly pressed against yours and her fingers yanking at the waist band of your pants.

Out of everyone, Char is the most obsessed with your pleasure. She’s incredibly giving. It doesn’t matter the time or the location, if you’re a bit moody she will pull you into the nearest room and go to town. Be as loud as you want as she pushes your body to the point of overstimulation, she wants the others to know you’re hers.

“Meine Liebe…” Char whispered as she presses kisses all across your fear stricken face. An expression you always wore due to how passionate of a lover Char was. “I’m sorry I got carried away again.”

You nuzzled into your lover, who only peppered you with more kisses. “Mein liebes Haustier, I love you so much… how about you just stay in mein arms forever?”

Belladonna: French (Chef)

Belladonna was once a renowned poison specialist, hence her name. She’s a tall, slender twenty nine year old woman with fawn brown hair and sharp, feline like features. Belladonna is heartless and cold, just like the deadly poisons she once used. She’s a closeted lesbian and a very open misandrist.

Belladonna is the owner and head chef at Le Jarden. She’s quite prideful of her cooking and she only prepares the best cuisine. Belladonna has a tendency to be quite pretentious and she’s very rude if your French isn’t adequate.

Belladonna does not like Ignacia, to others it looks like she singles out Ignacia a lot, but they have a very complicated past. Belladonna is incredibly critical of others and holds herself at the highest standard. She’s also quite the bully.

Belladonna will chase out male customers from her establishment. They are not allowed in Le Jarden, no matter who they are. (She often gets into arguments with Callum over his floral choices).

If you catch her attention, it’s because you stood up for Ignacia when Belladonna gave the poor woman a verbal beat down. Belladonna immediately takes your defiance as a challenge.

Belladonna will often pick verbal fights with you, but she’s intrigued by you. You were a regular civilian and yet you stood up to her of all people? You had some guts. Plus, you still tried to be kind to her. It frustrated the chef to no end. Belladonna always feels conflicted when it comes to you.

Belladonna’s words often cut like a knife but you’re surprisingly quick witted with your comebacks. She enjoys the back and forth. To her, it’s like a game. And Belladonna wanted to win.

Her hostility increases the more she interacts with you since Belladonna has never experienced feelings of this magnitude before. Belladonna could not differentiate between love and hate. You confused her and made her mind in constant disarray…

You’re sweet to the point you make her teeth rot and she hates it… or at least she tells herself that.

Belladonna hates when you interact with the others! Especially the men (and Amari). She’s much better than them- wait… why did she care so much about what you did?

Your once pleasant words soon become sour whenever she enters your peripheral. You no longer try to smile or wave at her, only scowl. It confused her even more. Why did she care whether you liked her or not? You were just a civilian… right?

You eventually snap sense into her when you tell her you despise her. You… hate her? No… she didn’t want to be hated! No. No. No.

Belladonna loses her mind when you constantly reject her. You won’t come to her restaurant and you won’t accept the many, many bouquets she leaves on your doorstep. Why won’t you forgive her? She never apologizes, so she truly means she’s sorry. Please forgive her, she can be soft. She can be soft.

She will kiss you until your lips are swollen and bruised. Until your lungs are nearly out of air and you’re breathless. Belladonna could be your oxygen! Your reason for being! She can do everything the others do, if not more! She has access to various poisons and other plants, some that could take you to pleasures of immeasurable heights! Just let her worship you…

Belladonna will go to extreme measures if you continue to ignore her desperate attempts at reconciliation. And that includes poisoning you so that you’re briefly paralyzed.

Belladonna’s slender hands hold your cheeks as she quietly sobs from above your still form. She knows you’re afraid, but this was your fault! You pushed her to do this!

“All you had to do was forgive me… Je t'adore. Je ne voulais pas te faire de mal…” Belladonna slipped into her first language while the waterworks began. She was so conflicted and confused. Her new feelings were overwhelming and concerning. Belladonna was usually level headed, but when it came to you? She was a dumpster fire.

Belladonna pressed her forehead against yours, her tears now mixed with yours into a long stream down your face.

“Je n'ai jamais ressenti ça auparavant, mais je suis sûr que je t'aime. Je t'aime tellement, ça me rend fou.”

Ignacia: Nicaragua (Writer)

Ignacia always wears a steel mask over her face and completely covers her body. No one knows what she looks like under there and she prefers to keep it that way… she was a twenty seven year old bomb specialist. At least until the accident. Her entire body is now covered in third degree burns. She is no longer beautiful so she hides herself away in order not to scare anyone. Her accident landed her in an early retirement as well.

Ignacia is biromantic and asexual. She’s always been more interested in books than people. Fictional characters comfort her more than real people.

A few years ago, she had a mission to take down a French politician and ended up destroying Belladonna’s secret hide out. Which is why Belladonna despises her. Ignacia isn’t too bothered by it though since she’s the one who received the worse end of it,

Her English isn’t the best so she rarely speaks. She often observes others from the corner of every room. Through the various interactions she observes, Ignacia created a fictional world for her characters in her stories. It was an escape from her harsh reality in the real world…

She’s so shy when you come up to her. Don’t you know she’s a beast under this mask? That she’s not as picturesque as the others?

Yet your kindness makes her knees turn to jelly and her heart leap in her chest in hopes it will escape its prison made of bones. Perhaps you were her chance at real life romance rather than the comforts of the printed texts in her books?

Ignacia is delusional. She overthinks every interaction you have with her. If you touch her hand on accident, she believes it’s because you’re shy! She’s shy too! If you compliment her eyes, she will try to wear masks that show off her eyes more. She’s so ecstatic that she shakes whenever she receives words of praise from you. It’s so exciting! Ignacia is living out a fairy tale romance!!

Ignacia began to build a perfect image of you in her head. To her, you were the perfect princess in a fairy tale book and she was the knight that would save you from the monsters (the other villagers). You were kind and sweet, the kind that needed to be locked away so nothing could harm you.

Ignacia begins to decorate your future home with her! She will ask more questions and bout your hobbies and interests so she can make it all perfect for you! She will incorporate your favorite colors and themes just to make it into your dream space! A pretty cage for her pretty princess!

Ignacia simply wants to keep you safe from harm. She doesn’t want you to ever injure or harm yourself. Her carelessness had landed her in her own predicament and she wouldn’t dare let you suffer the same fate. Ignacia was your knight in shining armor!

“Buenos díaz, mi amor!” Ignacia beamed at you while she handed you some breakfast. You were confused on your whereabouts, but Ignacia simply crinkled her eyes up from under her mask (she smiled). “Did you sleep well, mi princesa?”

“Ignacia? Where am I-“

“¡Estás en casa! !Donde perteneces!” Ignacia giggled as she affectionately pressed her mask into your cheek. Home? What did she mean by home? “Estás a salvo aquí, mi princesa. Para siempre.”

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wambsgansshoelaces · 8 months

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Turmoil; Chapter 9

Roman Roy x Reader

Word Count: 3.518k

You walk slowly back and forth on the cool marble flooring of Shiv’s apartment, trying not to slip on your socks. You're gesturing vaguely at your laptop as you pace, which Roman had gotten to project on her living room TV. You have the spreadsheet of Connor’s financial ruin pulled up, letting everyone mull it over.

“We have many options right now, and all of them are good,” you tell your miniature peanut gallery of the siblings- minus Connor -, plus Gerri and Greg. “We serve Connor. All this does is get him off of our asses, gets us some spending money. Doesn’t eliminate the massive fucking problem that is Logan Roy, doesn’t deal with anything involving Waystar. Purely a ‘fuck you’ to Connor and he goes to jail for five minutes before Daddy bails him out.” You glance around the room, remembering your audience. “Uh, no offence.”

You get a collective grunt from the three siblings, all of them in a similar state of focus. Roman’s sat on the sofa, eyes trained solely on you rather than the presentation. When you catch his gaze, he gives you a nervous smile. You smile back.

“What I think we should do is start building a case against Logan. But we bait him with this fraud to get a stronger case,” you say. “We’re pulling things together. I can see us having an airtight case before the years up.” You pause. “We just, uh, need to finalize the entire… CEO thing.”

The more time you’d spent with the Roys, the more they got along less. With Logan thrown out of the company, ownership, control of the company was up for grabs. Each of the three of them though that they were the right choice. What you saw in Norway, what you saw when you first met Roman, was slowly self destructing.

You’re worried it won’t go back to the way it was before.

The siblings’ banter, their underlying love for one another. You’re not going to hear it again for a while.

The general consensus is that you are to start building a criminal case against Logan Roy. You have to tell yourself that if you fail, on the off chance that this case crumbles under pressure in court, that the rest of your life will with it. Losing to Logan Roy, at anything, has grace consequences. And in this instance? Your career will suffer the most.

Roman’s trying to figure out how to completely disconnect your laptop from the television when Gerri approaches you. You both offer each other soft smiles. You were similar, after all, and although lawyers didn’t get along most of the time, you got the feeling that you’d both give each other grace.

“It’s nice to meet you informally,” she tells you, offering her hand for you to shake. Her grip is firm, it doesn’t falter. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it out to Norway.”

“You didn’t miss much. It was a lot of peacocking, if I’m honest.”

Her voice drops so that only you can hear, even though everyone else is involved in their own business, nowhere near. “There’s a power struggle here. Neither of us are stupid.”

You gather your composure. Maybe this wasn’t the wholesome interaction you’d hoped it’d be. Oh, how you wish strategy would leave you alone. “Mm.”

“And I think, with our lack of familial ties, lack of allegiance, we’re in quite the position to just… make things go our way.”

Your eyes flit about the space around the two of you. Still, nobody’s within earshot. “And what’s our way?”

“The one where we benefit most.” Her gaze shifts from you to Roman, still sat on the couch, your laptop finally disconnected from the TV. As if he can feel your eyes boring into him, he looks up, catching you and Gerri staring. “The one where we have the most control.”

“Since when are you and Gerri all buddy buddy?” he asks the minute you step out of Shiv’s apartment. The bone-chilling January air smacks you in the face, blowing back your hair as you glance at him in the dark.

“We’re not. I met her today.” You simultaneously reach for each other’s hands, curling your fingers together.

“What’d she say?” he asks, voice just barely cracking. He brings his free hand to your intertwined ones, rubbing over the back of your hand in an attempt to warm it.

You don’t answer until you’re both in the car a few moments later, you sitting behind the wheel. “She made an interesting proposition about the entire… succession thing.”

He buckles his seat belt, not taking his eyes off you. “Yeah?”

“That her and I back you so that we have the power when you’re CEO.”

You tear your gaze from his, backing out of the apartment complex’s parking lot and pulling out onto the street. He says nothing for a bit, turning things over in his head.

“I mean, I wouldn’t really be against that,” he says carefully, failing to sound convincing. “I wouldn’t like it, but I mean, CEO, and the two smartest people I know pulling the strings so I don’t fuck up…”

“You’d be fine with that? You wouldn’t want, I don’t know, free will?”

“Well, it’s you and Gerri. Sure, you’ve both had your cold and calculating bullshit, but neither of you are capable of rendering me completely useless.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask, glancing at him when you stop at a red light.

He shrugs. “Just that you’re physically incapable of slighting me, because, you know”- he gestures at himself, taking your hand that wasn’t on the steering wheel and planting a kiss on the back of it -“and Gerri doesn’t even have it in her.”

You roll your eyes. “I mean, I could, but I won’t,” you say, teasing. He keeps your hand in his as you drive, night time New York lights blurring by.

“Would you do it, though?” he asks quietly. “Do you think I could do it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Am I… am I capable?” You can tell he’s still looking at you, but your eyes are in the road.

“Of course you’re capable,” you say immediately. “But it sounds like you don’t really… want it.”

“I mean, I want it. I want more for myself. I just… don’t really want Waystar. I want more than just fucking around in my stupid fucking office and having… having no substance.” The car’s in the parking garage of your own apartment now, but neither of you make a move to get out. He’s looking straight ahead of him, eyes slightly glazed over. It’s an expression you’ve never seen on him before. He looks troubled, like he’s actually at war with something in his head. “I mean, I feel like a week ago I would’ve strangled you for it. Now, I think about it, and it’s so… so boring.”

Your hands are still wrapped around each other, so you begin stroking small circles into his skin with your thumb. “Boring?”

“Unfulfilling. Dull. Like, what, I make billions of dollars every year for the rest of my life, doing absolutely nothing to earn it, and then I just die? What kind of life is that?”

You turn so that you can face him. “I didn’t know that was on your mind.”

Roman gives a mirthless laugh, bringing your hand to his shoulder. Vaguely aware of what he wants, you rub absently. “I didn’t, either. I don’t know.” His fingers trace over the back of your hand, still staring out the windshield rather than holding your gaze. “You make me feel all of these new things. I’m thinking about so much more, now that I’m taking you seriously.”

“You weren’t taking me serious before?” you ask playfully, trying to lighten the mood. You lean over the center console, using your hand on his shoulder to keep you steady, pressing a hot kiss to his jaw. “In the end, don’t do anything you don’t want to. Life’s not worth it if you’re not happy.”

You step out of the car, and Roman’s not far behind you. “You know,” he begins once you’re both safely inside the apartment, “I have no idea what we’re supposed to do.”

His coat gets tossed into the hallway closet, yours not far behind after he coaxes it off of you. “We’ll just do what we can.”

“You’re not very reassuring,” he mutters, shutting the closet door and pushing past you into the kitchen. You follow, reaching for his shoulders from behind him once he stops at the kitchen counter. He drops his face into his hands, somehow both tensing and relaxing at your touch.

“Roman.” Your thumbs glide over his shoulder blades, and he doesn’t respond. “What’s the actual problem here? We can talk. I’m here for you.”

“He’s my dad, Y/N. In the end he’s still my dad.” You gently knead his shoulders in an attempt to soothe him. He still doesn’t turn to face you. “Which is why it hurts so fuckin’ bad.”

“Tell me what hurts, Roman. We’ll fix it, I’ll fix it.”

“I want… I want him to love me like I love him. But I know-” he chokes on his words, and you realize he’s crying. You falter for barely a moment when he abruptly turns and buries his face into the crook of your neck, wrapping his arms around your back. You feel his tears trickling onto your collarbone, and you feel a twisting in your chest. You cradle the back of his head with one of your hands, the other going to the small of his back. “But I know it’ll never happen.” His grip tightens on you before he continues. “Yeah, that shit with you, and Gerri, and CEO… it sounds so fucking good, but Y/N, when I fucking dreamed of it, the only reason it ever mattered was that it was him. He wanted me there, he thought I was the best. But it was all just a dream, anyway. It doesn’t fucking matter if that’s not how it goes.”

He sobs into your shoulder, and you don’t move. You keep holding him. You’ll hold him until he lets go. You hope he doesn’t.

“We’ll figure something else out, then. It’s okay, Roman, it’s okay.” You press a tentative kiss to the side of his head. “You’re getting yourself worked up. We can talk about this later, yeah?” He pulls away to look at you, waterline still glistening. You cup his face with your hands, thumbing away the stray tears on his cheeks and under his eyes. “Wanna watch that show I was talking about the other day? Make you feel better, take your mind off things?”

He takes a deep, controlling breath, calming himself. “I know a better way we can get me to feel good,” he murmurs, not wasting any more time, taking you by the jaw and pulling your mouth to his. If your first few kisses were careful, arguably sweet, this one was reckless. Roman kisses you without abandon, mushing your lips against his. For the first time, he’s needy, he’s greedy, he’s fucking desperate. Messily, he’d turned the two of you so that your back was to the counter. “Up,” he utters, mouth barely leaving yours. He reaches behind you, barely gesturing at the counter top.

Vaguely, you register, and you brace your hands on his chest and jump, managing to land where he wants you. The counter isn’t that high up- it wasn’t a struggle. Immediately, he’s pressed up against you, hands sliding down your legs to loop them around the part of his torso they are dangling by. While your hands go to cup his face, his slide back up your clothing to settle on your hips.

You kiss him again, and again, and again. The only thing you can hear is the blood rushing through your ears and the soft noises of your lips on his. You pepper kisses onto his lips, and he makes quiet, contented noises. He’s completely relaxed. He’s letting you do whatever the fuck you want.

“Feeling better?” you ask into his mouth before kissing him again, long and deep, fingers digging deeper into his skin.

He groans in response, the vibration against your lips spine-tingling. “So much fucking better.” He pulls his mouth from yours, to your disappointment, and the both of you are panting, vying for air. He doesn’t pull away entirely, instead leaning back in to dot kisses to the corners of your mouth, then down your chin, down your neck. “You look fucking gorgeous from this angle. A fucking goddess among men.”

☾𖤓

When the morning arrives, the two of you are tangled together, your head nestled into his chest, his head atop yours. His arms are wound tightly around you, keeping you flush against him in a refusal to let go. When you wake up, all you can smell is the faint scent of his aftershave from the night before. You never want this to end.

You don’t open your eyes, trying to get even closer to him. You barely rub your cheek against his chest in an attempt to burrow into him. Roman murmurs softly in his sleep, shifting, bringing you with him and pressing his nose into your neck.

His breath fans over your skin, deliciously warm, sweetly soothing. You bring your hand to his cheek, gently stroking, admiring his peace-laden face.

You spend the next half hour like this, just looking at him, reflecting.

Your fiancé. Your Roman.

You’d never expect, in a million years, that this would be how you ended up. You let your fingers trace calming patterns into the crook of his jaw, and he’s practically purring. You savor these fleeting moments, this peace.

It’s like a dream. Everything is in slow motion, and you can feel everything before it happens. You know you’re going to fall for him. You’re going to fall so fucking hard. You’ll scrape your face on the pavement, skid your knees, bleed for him.

Also like a dream is the looming sense of doom. The feeling that you’re grasping at straws, waiting for everything to suddenly slip away. Because you know it will. You know, whatever path you take, it intersects with Logan Roy’s, and there’s quite the conflict in the distance.

Roman grunts from under you, shifting so that you’re laying on the bed rather than him. “Fuckin’ tryna kill me,” he mumbles into your neck. Despite his words, you can feel him smiling into your skin.

“I want all that money of yours,” you tease back, letting him drape an arm over your torso, readjusting so that his face is buried in your chest.

“Mm, don’t act like you don’t already own everything that I do,” he says, sleep still playing with his voice. “God, you could tell me you wanted to live in the White House and I’d blow all my money renting it out for you.”

You laugh airily, and before you know it, you’re both up and about, getting ready for work.

“I forgot to tell you,” he calls from across the apartment, him in the kitchen, you digging around in your closet. “The shareholder thing. Looks like Dad’s trying to rally the troops. He has all the old-timers questioning everything Ken does.”

“Anything from Marcia?” you shout back, finding the outfit you were hunting for.

“She agreed to meet at the firm. Also, I heard from that pompous piece of googly-eyed garbage that Connor’s already had a lawsuit processed. He goes to court in a month or something.”

You stroll out into the living room, watching Roman muck about the kitchen, making breakfast. It smells good, at least, and you can tell he’s melting cheese over eggs while he scrambles them. “Are you talking about Pierce, or Greg?”

“Pierce. I don’t think Greg is that bad…”

You snort, rounding the counter to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Whatever you say.” He turns to briefly smack a kiss onto your cheek in return before getting back to his eggs. "Hopefully your daddy makes a scene.”

“Never refer to him like that again.”

At the firm, you decide that you’re going to pretend to keep working on Connor’s case. You’re itching for shit to hit the fan, to see Logan step in. As far as you know, everything is in place, and you’re getting closer to catching him red handed.

On your office phone’s intercom, your assistant buzzes to get your attention. “Siobhan is here.”

“Send her in, Cherry, thank you!”

When Shiv’s sat across from you, dressed in a power suit, she’s distracted. “I didn’t know you employed solely pretty people.” She gestures at you, then looks back at Cherry’s desk.

You laugh. “I do my best.” You absentmindedly click a pen, turning some thoughts over in your head. “So how are we going to play this?”

Shiv relaxes a bit in her seat, regarding you carefully. “I say we go for the jugular. There’s no reason to go easy.”

You lift a shoulder in a half shrug. “It’s your call.”

Another buzz. “She’s here.”

“Put her in Conference Room C. Love you lots, Cherry.”

Shiv flushes slightly. “Her name is Cherry?”

You shoo her out of her office before she can continue the conversation, and the two of you make your way down the hall. You see her through the glass before you get to the conference room. Marcia sits, hands folded primly in her lap, lips pressed into a thin line. You sit yourself in the chair directly across from her, Shiv following, settling in beside you. She wears a steely expression, her face devoid of emotion.

“Is it really so bad, just telling Dad you don’t want him anymore?” she asks Marcia, leaning back into her chair.

“That is not the topic of today’s conversation,” Marcia manages back, tone icy.

“Before we get to that,” you tell her, “you’re going to have to swear a few oaths. You’re Catholic, aren’t you, Mrs. Roy?”

She nods, hesitant. You reach under the conference table, where a small storage container is attached, and pull out a Bible. You stand, round the table, and make her set her hand on the holy book.

You swear her in, and you’re back in your seat next to Shiv. You fiddle with your pen, as does Shiv with hers. Your notepads are set before you both, at the ready to take notes.

“Just so you remember,” Shiv drawls, “if we find out anything you say here is untrue, you’re in deep shit.”

“Let’s start out easy, light.” You cross your ankles over each other, keeping your eyes on Marcia. “How long have you and your… new friend been seeing each other?”

She sighs, lips pursed. “A little over a year now.”

Shiv’s lips press together, keeping whatever comment she had lined up to herself. Instead, she asks, “What are you aware of, if anything, that my father has done that isn’t… to your taste?”

Marcia takes a moment to respond. “Bribes. Threats. What’s new?”

“You’re going to need to be a bit more specific,” Shiv replies quickly, pen poised over paper.

“Well,” Marcia says, drawing the word out, “he’s had private meetings. With investors, with accountants, with employees. He always has something to hold over them. There is always some hidden record, some bastard child, to bring them to him.”

“And if we were to ask you to remember who some of these people were, would you be able to come up with names?” you ask carefully, glancing down at your empty notepad then back up at Marcia.

“Yes, I’m sure I could.”

You and Shiv both jot things down.

Shiv opens her mouth to continue, but Marcia beats her to it. “There is something important you should know.”

“By all means,” you say, trying to be encouraging.

“I have come to know your first case quite well,” she tells you, averting her gaze. “It is a shame, what happened to you.” You and Shiv exchange a glance. “But despite all of the theatrics my husband enjoys, what he’s presented to you still is not the full truth.” She takes a moment, formulating her next sentences. “It was not Connor committing the fraud. It was Logan. He manufactured evidence, he framed his son, and I… I’m fairly sure the poor boy thinks he committed the crime.”

The room is dead silent for what seems like ages. You don’t know where to look. Your eyes flit from Marcia, who seems to be contemplating something in her head, to Shiv, who looks just as confused, just as off put as you do.

Marcia seems to decide something, then continues speaking. “I have had enough of the drama. I will testify in court against my husband if you help me turn our relationship into a thing of the past.”

You throw Shiv a triumphant look before turning back to Marcia.

“That sounds like quite the respectable deal.”

#roman roy #succession #succession hbo #succession fic #wambsgansshoelaces #succession x reader #roman roy x reader #roman roy x you #turmoil

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epikhightechnology · 1 year

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@kissporsche

I am sleep deprived and my mind is a mess so this might not make a whole lot of sense. Esp if you're not familiar with the musical. Do not expect greatness cause you wont find it lol

The story begins not with Pete or Vegas but with Porsche because he is Christine in this au. He joins the Opera House owned by idk.. Italians or something, as a dancer. All the bodyguards are ballet dancers in this universe (imagine Big as a ballet dancer and cry with me). They’re trained by Chan (madame Giry. Fits perfectly if you ask me). Porsche quickly becomes best pals with a fellow dancer Pete, they might even live together like in the show.

The Phantom is obviously Vegas. He has the mask and everything cause his asshole dad mutilated him when he was a kid and made him join the circus to earn money. It’s all very tragic and sad really. He spends years being laughed at till one day he’s done with it. He kills his dad and escapes. I’m imagining rain and thunder and tears and then finally peace and quiet that he finds in the basement of an old opera house. He puts on the mask & becomes the Phantom over several years, spending his days tormenting the owners of the opera and writing music in his dungeons. Living his best life lol

Back to the present. One day as Vegas is wandering the hallways like the creep he is, he hears Porsche singing and gets inspired. He is like omg I can make that man a star and make him sing my music. (Also the current primadonna sucks and their singing makes Vegas’ head hurt… lets say it’s Tawan cause we hate him lol. Vegas has been trying to get rid of the bastard for a while now) It’s going great - Porsche is easy to manipulate cause of his childlike dreams of an angel of music that his dead father (or mother?) would send him. Also Porsche is hot and kind and Vegas is kinda delulu for him. He hasn’t had any human contact for years and he is desperate for some love. Porsche gives him a taste of it cause he thinks Vegas is an angel so he speaks with affection to him. Porsche’s bestie Pete notices something is off and keeps an eye out but doesn’t do anything for now, cause Porsche seems to be doing well even if he’s acting a lil weird. Also who could imagine the reality of the situation lol. Pete does see more than the rest tho, he has seen Vegas in the shadows before, but he doesn't connect the dots. Yet.

Then out of nowhere the Italians decide to sell the opera house to Tankhun. Yes Tankhun cause imagine him running an opera. And Arm or something cause he needs a partner. Oh maybe Tay? Idk this needs more thought than I’m capable of at the moment. Anyways.. Vegas is mad cause Tankhun is even worse at running the opera than the previous owners. Even so he does manage to get rid of Tawan and get Porsche on stage, but then fucking KINN shows up and is like hot diggity dog.. Porsche is hot and I love him and Porsche loves him back (they are childhood friends like Christine and Raoul), which simply makes Vegas lose his last marble. He’s been spending months at this point teaching and seducing Porsche and it's taken a lot of work to get Porsche on stage and he’s not about to let Kinn steal him so he goes and kidnaps him (porsche). Takes him to his dungeon and tries to convince him that life there with him could be kinda nice. Cause look at all the good he's done for him. Porsche is listening till his curiosity wins and he tears Vegas' mask off and is disgusted much like Christine the first time she saw the Phantom’s face. Vegas is hurt and lets him go. Convinces himself that Porsche just needs more time, that he just needs to try a little harder. That he has to work more to get that love that he craves.

Porsche is traumatised after the kidnapping. Pete is worried, he sees that something is really wrong even though Porsche doesn't tell him what exactly happened. Kinn is an oblivious idiot, who at this point only cares about this Phantom dude sending everyone threatening notes lol. He and Tankhun decide to disobey everything Vegas is asking for and let Tawan back on stage which leads to no good. Vegas snaps and kills someone. Porsche runs to the rooftop, Kinn follows, they confess to each other and kiss and Vegas’ heart breaks and he brings down the chandelier.

Pete our best boy who has been watching everything go down from the sidelines is like ok this has turned from weird to FUCKED & he decides to investigate. Cause he is a sneaky lil guy and doesn’t like it when his friends get hurt for no good reason. He takes it upon himself to go find this opera ghost and stop him. He finds the entrance to the dungeons behind Porsche’s mirror and goes down there. In the dungeon he is greeted by a very sad scene of Vegas crying his heart out. What a pathetic creature. Except the creature is insane and once he notices and catches Pete he ties him up and spews all his anger and sadness on him. Vegas thinks Pete is a nobody whom no one will miss (and sadly he’s somewhat right) (but Vegas does know who Pete is cause he knows everything) and decides to keep him there to torment while he wallows in his sadness. Very unfortunately the rest of the opera don’t even notice Pete is gone (they’re too busy fixing things and getting their shit back together and Porsche is too busy with Kinn). After a few days of silence they’re thinking - finally we pissed off the phantom so much that he left. When in reality Vegas is planning his revenge. Pete is trying his best to convince him to leave Porsche alone cause obviously Porsche doesn’t like him back but Vegas being the man he is can not let his grudge go. And even though he doesn’t even like Porsche much anymore (cause his heart is opening up to someone else), he wants to take revenge on Kinn.

There’s mad tension between VP. Pete isn’t afraid of what's underneath Vegas’ mask because he has his own scars too. Both physical and emotional. They do share asshole fathers in every universe. They bond over it. And Vegas gets a glimpse under Pete's mask when he notices the way Pete reacts to him and his anger. Something inevitably does happen between them but it doesn't lead to any good because Vegas still thinks he is unlovable (boy thinks love has to be earned and is going about it in all the wrong ways) and he is obsessed with his revenge plot; and Pete our dear Pete thinks Vegas is in love with Porsche cause he thinks himself unlovable too.

The masquerade happens (oh imagine how happy Tankhun would be to throw this party), Vegas crashes it and promises to bring everything down unless they perform his opera. Realising all his efforts to change Vegas' mind have been in vain and Vegas still cares more abt Porsche than him, Pete escapes to go warn his friends about his actual plans. In a way he also rejoins the masquerade when he returns to his life. There is much to be said about masks and stuff in this au but again - my brain has not the capacity to do it rn. Finding out Pete is gone makes Vegas even madder cause he does feel things for him even if he's in denial about it. Cause Pete is the only person ever to not flinch when Vegas looks at him. There's that kindness he's been looking for in Pete but he doesn't let himself see it.

Kinn comes up with his shit plan to catch the Phantom despite Pete’s arguments that it won’t work. The opera happens and everything goes to shit. Vegas once again kidnaps Porsche. Kinn shows up at the dungeon and gets almost killed. They are yelling at each other when Pete arrives. He overhears Vegas making Porsche choose between him and Kinn and he can't take it anymore. He goes all out along the lines of 'you stupid moron, I love you, i can't sing, I'm a shit dancer but I love you and why am I not enough???' Like why is Porsche the end goal here when he obviously hates Vegas? Vegas, Porsche and Kinn are dumbfounded at this. Vegas didn’t really believe that Pete would like him for real. but pete goes on about how vegas ripped pete's mask off and now he's gonna leave him stranded in this world when they could have something together and for what?? It takes vegas a moment to understand what's happening. Kinn uses the opportunity and shoots or stabs or whatever Vegas, takes Porsche and runs. Porsche asks Pete to come with them but he refuses. Kinn is a dick and he drags Porsche away. Pete holds Vegas very fairytale like, very tragic and beautiful. "Say you'll share with me one love, one life time, say the word and I will follow you.."

When the others come to the dungeon to get the phantom, they find it empty. Vegas and Pete have disappeared but they live. Away from all this, somewhere else. Maybe not happily ever after but they live.

Also korn doesnt exist in this universe cause fuck him

#if anyone else has phantom vegas thoughts pls send them my way #or write a fic i beg #totally messed up that line from the song at the end lol i fixed it now #userboots

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revoevokukil · 1 year

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Predicament [Excerpt]

Avallac'h & Isilira, implied Isilira/Eredin (there's a rarepair) M | Warning: humans as pets for the Aen Elle Disclaimer: Isilira is the NPC we encounter in Avallac'h's laboratory in TW3.

---

That big clock – what a quaint choice.

The relic had been erected at the end of a boulevard of white willow trees that blew softly in the wind. Its place of prominence in the shadow of Myr seemed incongruous to the woman. Timekeeping continued to be practical, but that did not make it meaningful. It could be interesting, of course, if the concept was used to create urgency within a small, well-defined space of performance: a story put on a stage, for example. But to let the mechanism count the grains in the illusion and set its pointless activity on a pedestal here... Was it a warning, a reminder, or the scalp of a magic trick? Fortunately there were many, much more useful tricks in the employ of the inhabitants of Myr, and their taste was a secondary concern.

‘Can I offer you any?’

Drawn out of her reverie, Isilira Étain Bébhinne, the youngest daughter of the First Magistrate of Tir ná Lia and a well-known bon vivant who went by Madame Periwinkle among her inner circle, unfolded her twinkling blue fan and confronted her host with a beleaguered, conflict-ridden look. But then quickly corrected course. Her reluctance to drink in the afternoon was for show; everyone knew she refused herself practically nothing. But Sages tended to take answers verbatim and subject to their mood rarely offered anything twice. A quick glance made her tentative about his host’s good mood.

‘My brother, bless him, informed me I would be meeting a colleague of yours today.’

She sipped the cool wine and passed the fan lazily over her face. A shield as well as a sword should she wish so.

‘Alas! You received myself instead. Disappointed?’

‘Not at all what I wished to imply. I am honoured you would receive me, but I worry I may have torn you away from something more important. My matter is a touch… below you.’

‘Not at all.’

Noting the dried brown spots on the rolled-up sleeves of the Sage’s powder-pale shirt, contrasting starkly with his clean, well-groomed hands, Isilira tucked her uneasiness away into the merry fluttering of her fan. They had met briefly on several occasions, as there was hardly anybody in high society she did not meet. Therefore she knew this minuscule fracture in his presentation could only indicate one thing: the change had been made in the last minute, by him and not by his colleague or her brother. Oh she hated this! Did her demands of confidentiality matter nothing to Ge’els? She was not keen on another scandal and truly, she should have just had the little rat drowned on the spot, but… she knew she didn’t have the heart. Who crushes the beginning of something new and exciting? Who demeans themselves by getting so upset as to lose decorum?

‘You took a look at her then, I take it?’

He nodded, crossing his fingers before his lips. Observing.

Eredin always said he could feel it when Crevan made him the object of his thoughts because of the overflowing curiosity that accompanied the probing against his mind. But her sparrowhawk had been trained to detect and fend off intrusions, in addition to the protective enchantments he wore. She decided to press on regardless.

‘I was told they were perfectly safe!’ she exclaimed. ‘We allow them into our homes, into our kitchens and bedrooms –’

‘– dinner parties, daily routines, and among all our treasures. You have hit the problem on its proverbial head, my Lady. Exceedingly many problems begin in bedrooms. Including yours.’

Isilira glared as he looked on, amused.

‘Your girl exhibits latent receptivity to magic. A fledgling, crass talent, if you will.’

‘I don’t understand,’ she muttered; with admirable incredulity. ‘They should be barren as bricks, no? What you are suggesting is against human nature.’

Emptying her glass, she set it down on the marble table top alongside her fan and flashed him a look of concern while she called upon the anxiety she imagined she might feel over the potential embarrassment if the word got out. It was done to lend her act gravitas. It was important to seem authentic.

Therefore, when his laughter rang under the wild apple tree growing, quite unnaturally, out of a patch of earth drawn for it within the barren rock of Myr’s magical edifice, it dissipated her sense of success somewhat. But she knew her script well. What a shame he chose not to appreciate her art; she decided she rather liked his laughter otherwise.

‘Your problem is not very interesting nor novel,’ he drawled, snatching a sweet out of a raised crystal bowl. ‘I do adore though how delightfully taken aback you all are after the repercussions of violating simple rules become evident.’

She raised an eyebrow. He looked at her patiently, as a leader of congregation to its flock.

‘They are not to inter-breed, good madame –’

‘Lady Isilira.’

‘As you wish. Some of the dh’oine back in the world of our cousins have, over time, come to manifest magical abilities. Knowing the size of your household, I would say it was only a matter of time.’

Only a matter of time?

‘This is,’ he added in a moment, ‘how your girl came to be, is it not?’

‘Ah!’ she leaned back, looking into mid-distance. ‘If you say so.’

‘You don’t know?’

‘To keep an eye on all of their fancies and proclivities – what life would it be?’

‘Mandated nevertheless, as your venerable father or surely other close kin –’

‘Oh of course they have reminded me. I know! Of course, I know. What I am trying to say is that in an otherwise fool-proof mechanism a minor oversight should not create a huge fuss now or anything, should it?’

The corners of his lips twitched, but she observed he was not going to push the issue and was satisfied with that. Her position should have set her above chastisement in any society. He extended his hand for another crystallised sweet. Setting her foldable fan aside, she sighed and reached for his well-groomed and spotless hand, smiling at him. A reciprocal gesture of surrender was in order. Or a change of strategy? He eyed her closely but allowed the touch.

‘It would simply not do for any elle to whom She has manifested,’ she began, ‘to allow such minutiae distract them from their calling. A commitment one must make day by day. Surely you understand. I do not deny you are right. I have been lax. Unallowably so, but not, I think, unforgivably? Asking for help… you know, I do not consider it beneath me at all. I ask, O Knowing One. Help me. What can be done about her?’

‘What can be done…’

‘I would not want them to confiscate the girl. I don’t want to lose. I am awfully sentimental you know. Just because of some silly mix-up, I don’t see why I should be punished by – Believe me, all in all, she is a nice one. Just –’

‘I can smother it.’

He got up suddenly, pulling his hand out of hers and crossing the balcony in a hurry to reach out just as an apple fell down and onto his outstretched palm.

‘I can deprive your girl,’ he said, ‘of the latent potential.’

‘Can this be done?’

‘Certainly.’

‘But is it safe?’

‘The procedure is unlikely to produce any undesirable effects. Magic is against human nature, didn’t you say? No. Nature is not so categorical. Almost without exception, however, a sprout of magic in the dh’oine expresses itself very much like a tumour. Not really belonging within their evolutionary frame it can cause plenty of damage. Indeed, some of them who have the means refuse it voluntarily.’

‘They do? In Sidhe?’

‘For example. Magic is not inherent to them; not to mention its control. Therefore it hurts them, deforms and, inevitably, harms them and their contemporaries. Many cannot afford to lose out on their investment in their offspring though, since while their species is prolific their social hierarchies upon scaling always yield an outsized population that is sickly and of poor constitution.’

Starlings were gathering in the far-off sky, letting the afternoon wind carry their murmuration above the eternal tides of Easnadh.

‘Consequently, many humans seek to get rid of the spark before nature will take its course and gets rid of their children for them.’ He followed the murmuration’s movement for a while before placing the apple before her on the small round table behind which they sat. ‘It is already happening. In Sidhe.’

‘What is?’

‘The waning of their connection to Power.’

Isilira was her father’s youngest; she had never witnessed what was before the separation. It was one of her secret regrets, because even if Eredin’s tales about Sidhe these days sounded positively awful, it still seemed like an even greater sin to miss out on an experience. For what else was there?

‘I can close this matter in her,’ the gaze of his bright aquamarines settled back on her. ‘Such intervention alone, however, will do nothing at all toward weeding out the cause of your problems in the foreseeable future. You will appreciate that your girl must also be sterilized.’

It caught her off guard; she had not prepared for this. As a woman, she had not prepared for this. She protested. The Sage glared at her; she too was a little surprised at herself.

‘It’s a little drastic though, isn’t it? To do this to a girl. With boys, I understand, I don’t complain; clean and simple. And divines know it’s done all the time, but…’

‘But?’

‘She is nice. For a… you know. Did you take a good look at her? Her features, I think in the future, yes, and the shade of her hair.’

‘It’s black.’

‘Sable. It’s sable.’

‘I see. You are hoping on offspring?’

‘Why yes. Of course I am. It’s so rare, you understand, to happen upon ones that both look interesting and play nice. Well, relatively. They say the sable ones always come foolhardy and it seems it applies to dh’oine too.’ She giggled helplessly, which was out of character. Nerves. ‘Blessedly, our handler is a miracle worker. She’ll correct any character.’

‘Oh I am certain your staff is as well-vetted as the most noteworthy elle in your company, but what else can I say? I am happy to volunteer my help and discretion to the beloved daughter of our First Magistrate, but I am sure you realise that your present arrangements cannot continue forever the way they have up until now. We do not leave loose ends.’

She kept her smile as she weighed his words, weighed her disappointment and her secret irritation at being unable to play with an open hand. He waited, closing his eyes and relaxing in the afternoon breeze to give her privacy.

These were the facts: the narrative he had suggested suited her. It was not like her lover’s suspected indiscretion would ever become publicly known, and it was not like she was the first in such a position. No, what separated her from other women was her ability to see such missteps as nothing more than an aesthetic quirk, an extension of her own love for transgression. Provided the quirk did not scream in everyone’s faces it could be found a place in the free-flowing tapestry of her life. Quietly. Out of sight. Truly, it was insignificant; merely embarrassing and inconvenient due to, well, magic apparently. Indeed, why eliminate if you could shush? Discretion was for the best, and despite her misgivings as a woman in regard to some methods, well, she simply had to tame her over-active imagination in this case. Which after all was but a signifier of her boundless capacity for empathy. They lived such short lives anyway.

‘I don’t think I know how to thank you, Illustrious One.’

‘You can leave her with me today.’

That concluded it.

She would get what she had come for – answers to her suspicions and a salve to soothe her worries. The girl would be kept out of sight until her features started showing signs of aging and thus forfeited any possible parental resemblance, and everything would quickly return to normal. Isilira would not have to sell anyone nor drive a mother and child apart, avoiding causing tears and hysteria which would interfere with the good cheer she liked to foster around her house. Such measures were altogether unnecessary and tasteless in her opinion.

‘There is one other small matter, I’m afraid.’

She froze amidst her preparations to be off.

‘Your girl’s parentage might make her a liability for you.’

‘I don’t understand. Isn’t this why you need to operate? To stop the, what is it – cancer! - from spreading?’

‘Lady Isilira, from what I have heard you have an excellent eye for detail. Truly a must for an artist, and social curation – is this fair to you? – probably deserves the title. Still, I expect elle to make mistakes likes this when around children. They are utterly captivating, wouldn’t you say? Be they elven, human, or any other species. In this instance especially the mistake is easy to make. Nothing in her apparent physiology gives it away.’

The aquamarine eyes, so far bemused but kindly, had obtained a cold gleam which had warned her earlier.

‘If nothing gives it away,’ she smiled, ‘why bring it up at all?’

‘I wish to believe your mistake was genuine,’ he shrugged. ‘You did not realise the nature of the blunder which, though perhaps not your own in the most direct sense, you would have liked to make vanish with as little fuss as possible. Loyalty is admirable, and rare.’

He leaned over the table, taking her hand in his this time; mimicking her gesture from earlier.

‘It is beneath us – to whom She has manifested and shown our calling – to lower ourselves and pick up after those who would exploit our purpose for their own selfish pleasure. You are not ignorant, and you did not come between these walls, which make it very difficult to hide, to gull me over nothing.’

‘I’m not doing this for his benefit. This is about me.’

‘I am sure it is.’

Her eyes caught the dried brown dots on the sleeves of his shirt again. Blood. Should have had the rat drowned. She forced herself to remain calm. Her scripts always had multiple endings.

‘When you step onto the stage, never deceive yourself. I’ll keep your girl.’

‘Why?’

‘I know her father quite well.’

‘My, what help you have been to me, O Knowing One.’ She couldn’t believe it. ‘Please tell me how I should repay for your advice and your favour.’

Avallac’h’s eyes softened as he stroked her hand. The Sage’s hands were smoother than her own. When he had made his request, Isilira Étain Bébhinne, or Madame Periwinkle to those who knew her well, jumped up and took the apple from the table. Calling the child back in, she handed it to her, and left, fuming.

A tremendous break in decorum to storm off like this.

The girl regarded the elf underneath the apple tree fearfully until he called for her. She always went when she was called now. It was how they got her.

Stepping onto the balcony, barely able to see over the white stone balustrade, she became entranced by the blue space opening up above her. So different, this world – big, inviting, free. It made her limbs tingle and she did not know why. It made her scared, because bad things followed when she began feeling this way. It was not her fault, but it was her fault. Everyone was annoyed. Not the sky though, never the sky.

As she stared quietly into the open space, several pieces of furniture in the room she had just passed through suffered structural failings, and one priceless tome in gold-leaf binding disappeared from on top of the fire place. Not the sky though. It never went away. When night came, only more things would show up.

The elf coughed. The child’s eyes hit the ground.

‘Now, now.’ His voice sounded nice. ‘Be at ease.’

She risked looking up. His eyes too were bright and inviting, though paler and colder than the sky.

‘How does your hand feel?’

The pinprick in her finger she had been clenching in her palm had faded into nothing.

‘Have strange things been happening to you recently?’

She nodded.

‘They’re scary, aren’t they?’

She nodded again.

‘If all these scary things would go away – forever – what would you say?’

She shrugged, rolling the yellow apple between her palms. It was almost like a little sun. When she had not said anything for a while, the tall elf who had taken her blood earlier indicated toward the golden apple in her hand. She was hungry. It was also rude to refuse an offer of food, so she ate. And fast fell to the floor.

---

From: Games with Eternity, chapter 2

#wiedźmin #the witcher #aen elle #avallac'h #isilira #my fanfiction: games with eternity #fic excerpt #fic promo #writing

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alluringjae · 3 years

Text

until dawn - ljn

part I | part II

⤑ summary: basic number one rule of the museum is not to touch the art. but no one told jeno that falling for one of them isn’t allowed either.

⤑ pairing: jeno x female reader

⤑ word count: 14k

⤑ genre: fluff, humor, angst | broke architecture major!jeno, historical figure!reader, college!au

⤑ warnings: jaemin mentions onlyfans as a joke, references to actual historical figures (some try to flirt with jeno lol) and literature, explicit language

⤑ author’s note: wow, i’ve had this idea for almost two years! this one was inspired by one of my favorite childhood movies, night at the museum. it definitely required a lot of research and brainstorming, and finally i brought it to life! it was so fun to play around with the characters, and even if majority of them are real people, this is all still fiction.

i also wanna mention one of my moots, marge for enlightening me about her life as an architecture major.

⤑ taglist: @renjunniehome (dm me if you want to be added)

⤑ leave me some feedback, constructive criticism or hellos!

Dormitory rent was another thing to worry about aside from the inflated university tuition per semester. Although he’s lucky to have his parents backing him up already on it, paying the monthly rent for his dorm was the remaining objective on Jeno’s list.

Plus, money for food. The man was a heavy eater, following the whole “gym is life” mantra.

Splitting it already with two of his dorm mates turned best friends, Renjun and Jaemin, his plate felt lighter. But the question still lies: where on earth was he going to get the money?

He’s practically checked out every available part-timing job in university and anywhere near campus. Barista at the same café Jaemin works at, teaching assistant for an art school for kids, convenience store cashier, library assistant, all taken in a heartbeat. The burden of his friends paying his debt these past months took a toll on him, almost to the point he almost considered making an Onlyfans.

“Yah, just find something else! Part-timers are in demand right now!” Renjun intensely closed his laptop before his older friend gets any suggestive thoughts.

“I mean, you didn’t work out your body to look the way it is for nothing.” Jaemin pitched otherwise, lifting the front back up. “When do you want to start filming? Loads of chicks would dig a piece of you!”

The contradicting opinions of his friends were like the devil and angel debating on his shoulders. Useless, he gave this worry a rest and returned to drawing new plates. A common thing when you’re an architecture major. Those deadlines were nearing. Looks like he’ll pull another all-nighter again.

Good thing most of his classes were late in the morning until 6 pm.

As if someone from above heard his petition, Jeno saw a help wanted sign posted on the bulletin board outside of the university museum. He initially went there to document some artwork and architecture models from Greek and Roman times, further analyzing how they’re still apparent in modern buildings.

The sign explained the need for one part-timer from any college to cover the night shift of the museum due to the current night guard’s full semester absence. He only had to come in 3x a week, choosing his days since he was still a student. Even the pay was above average, considering that most part-timers never go beyond midnight. Jeno would, on the other hand, always staying for his projects or gaming with the boys. Drinking sometimes during late-night Fridays with his entire college crew.

The pay would leave him a load of extra cash for himself, thus he sent an application to the museum office right before he left. A week later, while he was out with the boys, he got a text from the office that they wanted to meet him again for a final interview first thing on Monday.

Perhaps it was having architecture as his course and a healthy physique that landed him the part-timer position. Mainly, the latter because guards required strong endurance and fighting skills when worse comes to worst. It would start at 9 pm until 6 am the following day, and there was a designated uniform of it too. Blue blazer with matching trousers, white dress top, and loafers.

Aside from the typical museum etiquette the head director instructed him about, there was an unofficial list of tips written on paper given from the night guard on leave when the director handed you over his box of office-related things.

Only read at the night guard office once you’re the remaining staff left.

He did as he was told like an obedient son, flipping the succeeding page.

To my temporary replacement,

This part-timing job is nothing regular than the other jobs. You’ll witness things as you’ve never imagined them to be, almost like witchcraft. You’ll be lost and maybe frightened, or that’s how I felt the first time because no one led me through it all those years ago. Lucky for you, I made this small guide on how to properly take care of the place that the other staff doesn’t know about.

Before you proceed, I request you take a 5-minute stroll around the lobby first to understand what I’m talking about. After such, go back to the office or somewhere quiet then browse through the guide as quickly as you could.

Art is timeless here, so they need to be taken care of.

Good luck!

Park Sanghoon

Night Guard on Leave

Nothing could’ve prepared Jeno for what’s to come once he unlocked the office door. They say that art brings so much color to our life, allowing us to feel all sorts of emotions in a glimpse. But no one ever interpreted art to be literally alive and walking in the halls.

Behold, random wax figures and marble sculptures that he’s seen in the past roamed the hallways, as well as the paintings were interacting with each other side by side. Even the standee of a puppy from the entrance played fetch with one of those sculptures. He swore he looked like Hermes the messenger god from his arrow headpiece and sandals.

It made more sense why the guard on leave explained his feelings during the first day because it resembled Jeno’s. But unlike that guard, Jeno sucked it up. No one ever does well on the first day, even if others say otherwise. The first day was a learning experience, so he collected his thoughts even though the goosebumps triggered his body during that one rotation.

There was an indoor garden, already locked by the day guard earlier. The only room without any art piece, where students lounge to study the plants or relax in nature.

The sculptures section ahead, showcasing various fictional figures specifically from Greek mythology, chattered away about family drama and beliefs. The sculptures of Hades and Zeus, according to their title plate, argued relentlessly about power while Athena always intervened by shouting or even throwing arrows or daggers to any of the lightbulbs there.

That was one rule in the guide, but Jeno didn’t know yet until he came inside the room and swerved the attention of the arguing duo.

“Well, what do we have here?” Zeus, in the center, straightened his posture on his throne to present himself in a more regal way. “Are you perhaps the temporary replacement of Sir Sanghoon?”

“Sir Sanghoon’s stand-in is rather good looking, don’t you think?” Hera mused, stepping down from her throne beside Zeus to take a closer look at the taller male. Her cold fingers trailed his jaw until his chest, where his heart was beating intensely. She even pinched his toned bicep, mouthing wow.

“Truly handsome you are, my dear. So full of life, please introduce yourself to us.”

While Jeno introduced himself to everyone in that room, he answered any sorts of questions they had for him too. From his age, educational background, hobbies, Aphrodite just had to ask him if he had a girlfriend because he was that handsome.

“Nope, I’m single. With my degree in architecture, the requirements are so heavy I can’t even try dating.”

Mentioning his degree excited the gods, telling him how their people created and designed all these temples to house them and perform rituals. They loved it so much. This was a copy-paste of what Jeno learned from his history classes, and for a first, he’s hearing the perspective of the Greek gods.

Mind-boggling that he hasn’t fully freaked out yet. That’s what Athena anticipated when Sanghoon told her about his short leave, putting her in charge of everyone for the meantime while the replacement settled down.

The college museum was built during the late 70s as a gift from one of the alumni. It was for the purpose to preserve history and educate college students outside the classroom. The Greek mythology exhibit was the oldest one, making Athena have more seniority. Over her stay, she’s seen every new guard lose their senses during the first night. Some not even returning for a second night. She got used to every outcome, and so far, only 8 people lasted after the first night. A couple of students in the 70s and 80s, Sanghoon in the 90s, and now Jeno was one of them.

“Jeno, aren’t you terrified by us? You just got a job in a museum that comes to life every night, and it’s not a normal thing.”

“Well, I’m still shaken up about it. But it’s my first night, and it’s when I learn everything about the place from head to toe. Plus, I really need the money.”

“Money for what? But you’re young, a student even!”

“Yes, I am. However, I do pay for the rent in my dorm. So, this job is like my first big responsibility, and I want to perform well.”

Athena commended his sense of authority, capable of leading himself. She noticed how well-spoken and poised he is, respecting and listening to everything the gods and goddesses said even if they were nonsense. She never liked to compromise with her power, taking a while to like Sanghoon back in the day. Though Jeno looked like a natural leader on his first night. If he could take care of himself well, he’s skilled to take care of the rest in the museum as well.

Plus she had full control on the nights he won’t be there, especially the weekend.

With his potential, Athena mentored him the entire night about the gist of the entire museum. Every upcoming leader needs an intelligent mentor, right? She was naturally gifted with worthy leadership skills, managing Jeno like her own child.

Athena explained how the museum came to life, which was through a royal golden plate from the Oriental room. It was a gift from a popular sorceress in China to an affluent family from the Han dynasty, who wished them a long life after she was saved from invaders due to them. The plate preserved over time, becoming an artifact. Its power remained immortal, mutating to bring life wherever it goes. In this case, the museum since its arrival in the late 70s as well.

“That’s why the Oriental room must be locked always so no one could touch or break the plate.”

After she ordered Jeno to lock the mentioned room, alongside the Foreign Art Exhibit Room which he checked out for his class, she led him to the best view of the entire museum. Center of the second floor, where stairs were on both sides. Jeno marveled at the vivacious atmosphere, witnessing actual art living, breathing, and enjoying themselves.

“Unreal, right?” She leaned in the railing, scanning through the chatty paintings.

Jeno also leaned down, deep in thought and wonder. “Absolutely, Athena. How come no one knows about this? Art coming to life? It’ll invite more students to the museum.”

“That goes against a golden rule as a night guard in this museum.” She replied bluntly. “The life that goes on inside this museum at night must remain a secret to the public.”

Jeno predicted this kind of response, having watched too many films where anything supernatural mustn’t be revealed. Although he liked the advantage of knowing something this powerful, he’d never abuse it.

Athena’s intellect was beyond the world, seamlessly reading Jeno’s expression and what he was thinking. He had good intentions even if he’s a bit mischievous. She needed to keep a keen eye on him, but for now, he needed to explore on his own.

“Anyways, Sanghoon still left out some other details. So if you have any questions, I’ll be at my exhibit trying to shut my father and my uncle up again.”

“Can you not use any weapons to do so?”

“Can’t make any promises, Jeno.” She slyly cracked her knuckles and neck as if she was fighting another battle.

Jeno was silently left with himself, finally browsing through Sanghoon’s guide while seated in one of the museum benches.

It consisted of 25 rules, wherein the first two rules consisted of locking up. One, for the doors and gates of the museum, so no art piece could escape. If they do, they will turn into dust when the sun is out according to Athena. Two, locking the Oriental and Foreign Art Rooms, which was already done.

Rule #5: Let Mochi the puppy from the lobby tag along with you; feed him treats if you have any.

On cue, the little guy barked from the corridor and raced to his side. Jeno carried him, babying him for a little and letting him lick his face a few times before putting him back down. He’s surely going to the pet store first thing in the morning with the museum allowance the director gave him.

Since he was on the second floor, he read and followed the rules that fit in before returning downstairs. On the other side of the floor were the wax figures exhibitions: one for prominent men in history while the other for prominent women. Well, more people to get acquainted with.

It’s the exchange of gasps and profanities he received when he chose the latter room. Seeing their faces, these were women he’s learned in school and online. Now in the (fake) flesh. Except for one girl he’s never heard of, unbothered in her corner sketching her life away in a sketchpad. But before he could check who she was, a suggestive touch on his arm distracted him.

“My, oh my, Hera wasn’t lying when she said that the new night guard was a fine specimen.” By her dark blue eyeshadow and eyeliner with the snake-like crown, Cleopatra studied him like he was one of the most renowned art pieces. Even patting his chest, abdomen, and arms with both her hand, Jeno caught a suggestive glint in her eyes and a smirk across her red lips.

Rule #13: Reject Cleopatra’s seductive advances at all costs.

“Goodness, Cleopatra. It’s only his first night, and you’re scaring him.” With her accent, round eyes, and a chic formal outfit, she carried a posh aura while unhesitatingly scolding the Queen of the Nile.

“Come on now, Diana. He’s stunning, who wouldn’t go after him?” If no one knew her, you’re not reading up on your world history. She’s said to have been a lovely and intelligent woman, gone so soon. Jeno definitely understood why after she detached Cleopatra’s raging hands off him.

Rule #14: Treat Princess Diana and Hera like your own parent.

“Your highness.” Jeno nodded at her out of respect, only making her chuckle uncontrollably.

“No need to address me like that, love. Now, come here.” She widened her arms for Jeno, hugging him amiably. He sensed her motherly warmth, accepting such a gesture. “You remind me so much of my youngest son, Harry. Welcome to the night shift of the museum, love.”

Similar to the Greek mythology exhibit, he introduced himself and responded to any questions that the women wax figures may have. Good for him, they weren’t crossing any borders and kept him at ease.

“A student like you working at night to pay rent?” Katherine Johnson, an African-American NASA mathematician whose calculations led to the success of a lot of famous spaceflights, cannot believe her ears. Students must only focus on school, nothing else. “What about your studies, boy?”

Rule #15: Engage in academic discussions with Katherine Johnson whenever you can.

“Most of my classes are in the afternoon, Miss Katherine. So I’ll sleep in the entire morning later and study during my breaks.”

“Mr. Jeno, what do you like to do outside of work?” Anne Frank, a German-Dutch teenager whose revolutionary diary that documented her life in hiding from the Nazis gained popularity worldwide after publication dreamily asked from her section of the exhibit. Her life was robbed of greatness merely because of her religion and war.

Rule #16: Bring delicious food or gifts to Anne Frank.

“Well, I like to bike with my friends, exercise, and draw whatever comes into mind!”

Everyone he’s met so far acquired pleasure in knowing about who he was and his passion for architecture, ridding the “freaking out” phase Athena assumed he had. Yet not everyone in this exhibit bothered to give him a shot.

Jeno’s attention from Anne talking about her crush towards Peter van Daan, a teenage boy who lived with her, switched to the section beside her, where an unacquainted figure was zealously sketching as if something was due to the following day. It reflected how he’d look when he’s cramming one of his plates due to first thing in the morning. While he properly excused himself, he quietly gazed at the way this woman scrunched her eyebrows when she erased something then drew it again. She was someone he’s never seen or heard before, reading the information plate in front of him about her.

(Y/N) (Y/L/N), Explorer and Author. (1854-1900)

Wealthy women in the Victorian Era only served one purpose in society: marry a man from a prestigious family, have his children and join whatever interests they have. However, for (Y/N), she wasn’t going to conform to those standards.

Born into the affluent house of (Y/L/N), she was the youngest of 8 children. She was said to be the kindest and sweetest sibling out of everyone, not capable of hurting anyone or anything. She said it herself that she can’t throw away a dying flower because it’s too painful. While 5 of her older brothers were sent to school, she stayed at home with her 2 older sisters Cecilia and Amelia where she learned how to play the piano and take voice lessons from impressive teachers. Due to the huge age gaps between them (12 and 8 respectively), she never felt close with them. She was only closest to the 6th and 7th siblings, her twin brothers Benjamin and Liam whom she only had a 2-year gap. She was also best friends with one of the scullery maids her age, Lily, because she found her amusing that than the boring rich girls her mother forced to interact with.

The moment it bothered her that she wanted to live a more meaningful life was when Amelia got married. She was 12 years old at the time, and it left her as the last unwed daughter in the family. Badly did she want to revolt, which she gradually did. Instead of practicing piano, she’d sneak in to read every book in her father’s office. She secretly studied the notes of her older brothers from school and even dressed as a boy numerously thanks to Benjamin and Liam to join their classes or field trips.

This was her routine up until the age of 18 when she stomped her foot down and expressed to her parents that she wasn’t going to let Victorian society dictate her. The night before her parents were bound to send her to her great aunt’s home down South to sort her out, she successfully snuck out her house thanks to Lily, Benjamin, and Liam. It’s another good thing that she saved a lot of money for that moment.

Off she went across Europe first, then sailed to America and even parts of Asia. Initially under the name Lilibe, coined from picking the first two letters of her brothers and best friend, she documented her days and nights through her journals and sketches. Over time, she sent them to her brothers for publication. It started the franchise, “The Adventures of the Young and Free Lilibe”. There are 10 books under it.

She learned French, Spanish, Mandarin, Japanese, and Korean by herself as she made friends from those places. It was rare of someone like her to be fluent in Oriental languages, surprising locals every time she spoke to them. She was the only explorer to vividly describe life in different Asian lands in English, talking about their history and culture. With her accurate drawings of diverse citizens and their daily lives, it educated a lot of those living back home in Europe about them rather than speaking lowly of them.

In Seoul did she stayed the longest until her death from pneumonia at the young age of 46.

In her posthumous work, Finding Me, did she reveal her real identity, dedicating it to her parents whom she apologized and expressed her love for them despite everything that occurred between them. She talked about the last years of her life in Seoul, how locals were so nice and inviting to her, and how she adopted kids instead of having her own through the years.

“It’s not because I never found love in men. It’s more like I found love in doing things I’m passionate about. Traveling, learning new cultures, it outweighed the human need of romance.”

Due to her thrill in taking risks and embarking on wondrous adventures, it brought inspiration to a lot of young girls pressured to marry at that time to pursue what they really want.

A remarkable background you had, Jeno contemplated. How come no one discussed her in his classes?

You kept brushing the bangs of your hair back as it fell repeatedly. But you got irritated instantly because it sabotaged your drive, you brought out a hairpin from her desk and attached it on both sides. But when you shifted your angle of focus, the corner of your eye locked with Jeno’s attentive gaze.

He didn’t flinch, even he should’ve. He wasn’t one to linger his look on anyone’s physical appearances, but your story and the passion on your face as you sketched mesmerized him. He was charmed, to say the least.

“Uhm, hello there?” You broke the silence due to your uneasiness about it. What’s his deal?

Jeno bowed, reintroducing himself to you. As soon as his presence settled in the room when Cleopatra attempted to hit on him, you could’ve cared less. Though this man was a first for you, a first in a long time as all guards would feel intimidated by you during the first night. Even your sharp tongue didn’t faze him. “Staring is rude, sir. Didn’t your mother teach you manners?”

“She did,” He wandered through the exterior of your section, by the fence that separated you and him. Not breaking eye contact, his eyes turned into moon crescents as he smirked with trouble. “Though she also told me to appreciate the art too.”

Snorts noisily exhaled from Cleopatra, who took the center section of the exhibit, succeeded by Princess Diana’s whispered gasps and Katherine’s side-eyeing Anne beside her while she taught her math. That was an odd way a guard conversed with you, but Jeno was merely doing what the rules stated. Partly, he was impressed with his cheesy pick-up line, partly embarrassed because he’s never spoken like this to anyone.

Rule #17: Act playfully around (Y/N) (Y/L/N) to break the tension; she’s a harsh one.

There was irony between the information he read about your life versus the wax model. Even when you faced sexism and ran away according to your history, never were you impolite to anyone in your life. You couldn’t even kill a lurking fly when it roams around your food! It showed Jeno a possibility that as much as you’re just a wax version of someone famous in the past, maybe the external environment around you had a heavy influence too.

“You fool!” His confidence exasperated you, urging you to persistently throw balls of paper with your failed sketches at him. No one dared to talk to you like that, most especially a night guard. “Take that for your comment!”

If you thought he’d scram away and act repentant, you were proven wrong. His reflexes were parallel to a spider, capturing every single paper ball without fail. Up and down his body went, one arm held on to them and no more were left on your part. Never a single defeat during the first meeting in years, but that seemed to alter now.

“Give up already, Ms. (Y/L/N)?” Jeno remarked vibrantly as he discarded your mess in the trash bin behind him. If he managed to get everyone to like him tonight, he wanted to make sure to have you onboard too.

Whatever agenda he had, you weren’t up for it. You’d treat him the same way you usually treated Sanghoon for the past 20 something years: cold and ignorant. From your stool, you left your comfortable position to come face to face with this man. He better be grateful for that barrier in between you, or else you would’ve caused mayhem.

“Never in your wildest dreams, Mr. Lee.” Your mouth gave a half-smile, clenching on the bars to liberate your annoyance. Before you could fend back, that’s when Princess Diana intervened between your heated dialogue.

“Oh heavens, children!” She stood by the barrier, mostly to protect the newbie Jeno with her body. “(Y/N), he just wanted to know you. Must you be so cross?”

This Princess Diana embodied all the traits the real one had: soft-spoken, intelligent, and protective. She’s gotten so used to your gradual temper, staying on standby whenever anyone tried to mess with you. Even if it was harmless, you could get so mean!

“Diana, he was mocking me! Saying such a sleazy phrase as if to amuse me, ha! Not a chance, I hate people like that.”

“Not us women though; you just despise men in general.”

“And you’re absolutely right!” With a smug smile, you greedily rejoiced. “Anyways, escort this disgrace out. I’m not in the mood to get angry when I have a lot of inspiration on mind right now.”

While you resumed your sketching to let go of that extra steam, Jeno was left with Diana who apologized on your behalf. Your pride was too high to do that, and as the motherly figure among them, she always took care of things in your exhibit.

“I’m so sorry for that, Jeno. She’s not really like this, but I know how much you tried your best. It was quite a fresh spectacle honestly.”

Whatever was responsible for your abrasiveness, Jeno yearned to know. He couldn’t understand who you were yet even knowing your life story. All he wanted was to get along with everyone. It was the key to successfully maintain his job for the next 6 months.

“How can I make her come around then?”

A demanding question that no one had a solid answer to. Diana recalled how much Sanghoon didn’t let your dislike for him get to him, maintaining a respectful boundary in between each other after his past attempts. Though with Jeno, observing how he riled you up and your focus entirely on him, she hasn’t seen anything like it since the 80s.

There was something in Jeno that may just get you to warm up and return to your kind nature.

“Aside from acting playful, as Sanghoon recommended, I can think of two ways, love.” By the doors of her exhibit, where Jeno was already waltzing the corridor to visit other rooms, she suggested smartly. “One, argue back to her opinions. She hates whenever anyone tries to get her way, but boy, you’re just as wise as her. No one was brave enough to peeve on her until you came.”

“How about the second way?”

“Do your research, love. Aside from libraries, you have those small technology devices that allow you to search up anything.” She tousled Jeno’s brown locks as if it were her actual son’s. Some habits just don’t die when you do.

“Brush up on your history, Jeno. Not only will it help you with (Y/N), but it’ll serve purposefully with the other art pieces here.”

Boy, he was ready to crash in his bed for a few hours after all those interactions. His introverted nature required to be revitalized.

Towards the last hours of his shift, the art pieces who’ve strolled in the first floor lessened his plate by not leaving any major clutter behind. As if she listened to him, Athena didn’t break any lightbulbs too.

His main highlight would be meeting the men of the historical male section, who flaunted a more humorous ambiance. Freddie Mercury from Queen insisted he drink a glass of his wine and to bring more wine next time, which he denied since it would against Sanghoon’s rules. King Sejong the Great and Martin Luther King Jr. argued back and forth over the most random things (pineapple on pizza specifically), while Steve Jobs mediated whenever one crossed the line. Meanwhile, William Shakespeare was too preoccupied in his writing and speaking to himself about his books, wondering how to improve them.

During one of his breaks today, he multitasked drawing a new plate with his research on every art piece to know them better. He started with the exhibit of sculptures of the Greek gods and goddesses, which were Zeus, Hera, Hades, Athena, Hermes, Aphrodite, Poseidon, Artemis, Dionysus, and Circe. They weren’t the complete roster because the rest were in other museums across the globe, as said by Athena before sunrise. The majority of them he knew what they were in charge of, but the rest were foggy to his knowledge. Typing away and jotting notes down, he started downloading his favorite jazz songs too.

Rule # 4: Play jazz music to the paintings on the first floor so they can relax and dance within their frames.

Circe is a minor goddess, the daughter of the sun god Helios. She’s recognized for her versatility in incantations and herbs, capable of transforming people into animals. From Jeno’s perspective, she’s mostly within her space with her journals and magic wand, trying new spells or combinations of herbs. For the latter, he had to keep a closer eye on.

Rule #9: Don’t let Circe, god of potions, into the Oriental Room to get plants and herbs.

He discovered that Dionysus is the god of wine, happiness, and theatre. That’s why every god in the exhibit had full wine glasses during their gathering. It also added up why Freddie Mercury always comes to him when his bottles run empty, though he mustn’t go overboard.

Rule #18: Make sure Freddie Mercury doesn’t get too drunk from the wine of Dionysus; he might make numerous scenes if he does.

After his lone studying session, he took a short trip to the pet and convenience stores to buy food. He got a dumbfounded look from Jaemin back in the dorm room, who was studying for one of his quizzes in Biology in a couple of hours.

“Woah what’s with this stash? Is it for yourself or something?”

“The museum surprisingly has a lot of tasks needed to be done at night. And no, not from my wallet but the allowance they gave me before you get a heart attack.” Jeno plopped on his solo bed, covering his face with a pillow.

“Thank God.” A relaxed sigh escaped Jaemin’s lips, taking back his balled-up fists meant for his roommate. “I think I would’ve stormed that boring museum if they made your broke ass spend a cent.”

“Boring?” Jeno removed the cushion hastily, eyeing his busy and coffee-high roommate. The scent of black coffee from his mug spread in the room, assuming that this upcoming test was testing his roommate’s patience again.

Not even trying to look at Jeno while reviewing his handwritten notes, Jaemin continued giving his opinion. “Museum culture is dead, Jeno. Not everyone has the time to roam around one, plus people can always look up the artifacts online these days.”

People were entitled to their own opinions on numerous things, though Jeno begged to differ with his roommate’s. Especially after witnessing the magic of the night shift, you shouldn’t merely judge a book by its cover. In this case, you shouldn’t judge an artwork or art piece merely on its history and legacy.

Maybe because his roommate was in the science department, he thought this way. A lot of art students regularly visit the museum both for fun and for their classes, and Jeno was one of them. Though he was too sleepy to explain his side, he let it slide for now and snoozed throughout the late afternoon.

An hour before the start of his shift, Jeno promenaded the emptying museum to inspect anything else he might’ve missed out on from last night. There were two areas according to his rotation, both in the first floor.

One was the Diorama Room. Divided into 4 sections, highlighting some of the well-known ancient civilizations in world history. Ancient Egypt and Ancient China to your left, Ancient Rome and Ancient Maya to your right. They acted as if they were the actual people during those times, giving Jeno a laugh when they cracked jokes in between. Such tiny figures, yet the rule for them said otherwise.

Rule # 7: The small figurines in the Diorama Room are feisty, so make sure they don’t fight with one another again.

The remaining room left was the Theater Room. He’s never been here, though his art friends have for film festivals held by the university.

The interior of it was set to look like an actual cinema place you’d see in a mall. There was a mini lobby with a few posters of iconic films over the years. Singin’ in the Rain, Back to the Future, Titanic, those were some framed and hung on the wall. There were two other doors there: one leading to the chairs and the other where the movie projector was. The latter room was pretty riveting, wherein you can choose to watch old short films through an 88mm film projector or switch to a cd player for the newer releases.

Back to those posters, they weren’t an exception to the magic and a simple rule was left for Jeno to do.

Rule # 10: Chatter with the movie posters in the lobby of the Theater Room; they love meeting new faces.

Since there wasn’t anyone checking out the Art Rooms on the second floor, he closed them. Though as he was about to lock the Oriental Room, the ravishing plants around the royal plant appealed his interest. Said to hold magical properties from his research, Jeno was reminded of another rule to keep in mind for later.

Rule # 3: The fake flowers in the Oriental Room come to life too at night, so when no one is lurking, water it diligently.

Instead of lounging at Sanghoon’s office first, he brought his important items to the front desk of the lobby and continued sketching his plate. He wanted to watch the art come back alive with his two eyes. Usually, he’d have coffee when he does his work, but due to another crucial rule in the guide, he’d rather not take the risk.

Rule # 6: The lobby room can get rowdy, so keep any drinks away from important items.

On the dot, the cries and yawns from the art pieces around him reverberated. Closing his sketchpad, his night guard mode was on. Connecting his laptop on the aux cord of the museum speakers, he tapped play on his playlist of jazz music that’ll last for the entire shift duration. As the first notes flooded the entire vicinity, sounds of joy left the lips of each painting. Some were humming, dancing, and even singing along.

“You can never go wrong with Frank Sinatra!”

“This Jeno lad really did the heavens’ work quick!”

Having the sense of accomplishment on his sleeve, the small barks of his fluffy pal reached closer to him. As he kneeled to find him, he was only taken by surprise as Mochi excitedly jumped on him. Tumbling over, Jeno chuckled innocently as Mochi licked his face numerously. This puppy was friendly, easily liking everyone at first sight. He wasn’t as choosy like Daegal, the puppy of his friend Chenle studying Business Management.

Once he composed himself and cradling the dog like his own, he fed him a dog treat from the desk.

“Good boy, Mochi!” He rubbed his fur while the puppy happily munched on it, ready to fulfill more of his duties.

He skipped the Greek mythology exhibit since Athena was doing a good job not letting anyone go overboard with their powers, though he’ll check in again in a few hours. He met the posters of the theater room, who were celebrities he grew up watching on tv. Sanghoon was right; they were the kinder group in the entire museum because they were more laidback.

On to the second floor, all the female wax figures lounged by the male section due to another lecture from Shakespeare. Although the guide informed him that most of the time it could get boring, this lecture was more stimulating. On his platform, he elaborated with conviction the lines of one of his famous books, Romeo and Juliet. A must-read book back in his high school days, there’s no way Jeno could’ve missed that out.

From the looks of it, Jeno perceived that Shakespeare was performing spoken word poetry due to him reading only Romeo’s lines while Cleopatra read Juliet’s beside him. This kind of show was one of the sources of entertainment to these figures, so Jeno leaned by the side of the door to listen. After all, the famous author of it was a few feet away. Cleopatra channeled such a naïve character to her ability, absentmindedly saying as she clutched her chest.

“O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name; Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, And I'll no longer be a Capulet.”

“Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?”

“'Tis but thy name that is my enemy; Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot, nor arm, nor face, nor any other part belonging to a man. O, be some other name! What's in a name? That which we call a rose-”

The flow of an engaged Cleopatra was abrupted by the loud yell from Shakespeare in front, specifically to an amused Jeno. “Jeno, my boy! Welcome back!”

Such an announcement diverted everyone’s attention to the back, some running to Jeno to give their respective greetings. It’s rare for everyone to feel at ease with a new guard, taking them weeks to approach them due to the intimidation. Though Jeno’s bright presence felt welcoming, so they accepted it. Perhaps it’s because of his youth, it reminded them of theirs too.

Shakespeare highly requested (or forced) Jeno to take his part as Romeo, intrigued to watch someone younger read his lines. Since most of the male wax figures were aged, it never satisfied Shakespeare so he jumped on this opportunity as quickly as he could. With the roaring cheers from the other figures, Jeno might as well give it a try. It wasn’t like his friends were here to clown him like they usually would if he did something humiliating.

Jeno shockingly liked this activity as he wasn’t much of a performer on stage, but someone who does the behind-the-scenes of it. He realized as he read the lines from the book Shakespeare asked him to follow along with why people held university-wide spoken word shows a few times per semester. He was no actor, but it’s delightful to have tried it at least once in his life.

“O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?” As if the edge of the platform was the balcony of Juliet (or Cleopatra rather), he knelt as he ardently spoke his lines. He’s emphasizing this rush of uncontrollable desire for her, rambling whatever he would do to get the girl.

“What satisfaction canst thou have tonight?” Cleopatra questioned from her chair, inching closer to the young boy. Even outside character will she attempt to charm Jeno, but Jeno was quick to catch it and kept his distance.

“The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine.”

“I gave thee mine before thou didst request it, and yet I would it were to give again.”

“Wouldst thou withdraw it? For what purpose, love?”

“But to be frank, and give it thee again. And yet I wish but for the thing I have. My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep. The more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite.”

Everyone was condensed by their top-notch acting, as if this was the actual play unfolding before them. Jeno wasn’t so sure how he got himself in character without preparation, yet he felt what his character felt. He comprehended the material a lot better now than when he was still in high school.

However, there was always that one killjoy to ruin the heartfelt mood.

“How dumb is it to say that you’re in love after the first glance?” You opposed, putting the spotlight on you. This book was said to be a classic in literature, but as you matured physically and mentally, you could no longer agree with it. “Isn’t love the same thing that killed Romeo and Juliet in the end?”

Remembering what Princess Diana told him, he wasn’t going to let this pass. He wanted to give a piece of his mind too, caring less if the show must be paused. “Love is an emotion we don’t ask to feel. It’ll come to us when we least expect it, even when the timing of it can be crucial.”

“Of all the people Juliet could’ve gone for, it just had to be the enemy.” In all the years you’ve been brought to life, no one dared to test your opinions because they were aware of your intelligence, from the streets to the books. When someone bark, you’d bite back. Hard. “With all due respect, I love your works, Shakespeare. Yet the fate you’ve given these two at a young age was grave, could’ve you given them a better outcome or another character to love instead?”

“Giving them extra characters to love won’t address the horrific life fact that love can be dangerous. Regardless of what status you’re in, you can’t stop the attraction towards someone. The heart wants what it wants.” Jeno pressed his hand to his chest, pumping it a bit. Unknown to you and him, the audience found more entertainment in your argument. Anne, who was munching on the popcorn Jeno gave her earlier, passed the snack to Katherine who just couldn’t stop watching.

If this man wanted a challenge, you’re all ears. Who was he to compete with you? Was he not intelligent to know who you are?

“So are you insinuating that we just go with the flow? Be a slave to our emotions too and let them dictate our next motives?”

“Slave is such a strong word to use, (Y/N). But it’s not like we can’t choose who want to love because we actually can. In this case, Romeo chose Juliet and vice versa.”

“But what happens if the person you choose doesn’t choose you in return?”

“At least you tried your best, right? It’ll hurt like hell though, but it won’t last forever.” From his kneeling position, Jeno strutted his way with confidence. Trying not to let it mess with you, your extreme stare at him as if they’ll shoot lasers. Inches away from you, Jeno declared. “Love always has risks, that’s a given. Romeo and Juliet still tried and followed their hearts despite the downfall. But it was a needed downfall to get the message across.”

“No one would be that foolish to risk their lives for love though, right? Life is so precious, why would they do such a thing?”

“Even if they knew what their lives were without each other, they still preferred living a life where they were both in the picture. Therefore, they tried all they could that time because the regret of not doing anything at all carries a heavier burden.”

Whenever anyone argued with you, their debating points they spat back would further piss you off because most of the time, it never made sense. Back when this rude man told you to go home and be a wife in your earlier years of exploring, you civilly told him to fuck off, kicking his balls because he cornered you in an alley. For the first time, a man who tried to challenge you actually made sense. Was it because he lived in a modern time, where minds were more open? Because of the amount of sexism you faced in the past, you’ve turned a blind eye to the current period.

But your high pride maintained, not submitting into anything he said. “I still think it’s stupid to risk your life for love. There’s no such thing as having only one true love anyways, and you have to be alive to see it.”

“Fair point, but again, the feeling of regret and carrying it your entire life doesn’t fade easily. It’ll make you reflect on the what-ifs, and it’s heart-wrenching.” Jeno digressed, walking around you in circles. He’s intentionally trying to drive you mad, but he could care less. He wanted someone to put you in your place and open your mindset. “The question stands: would you rather try and go for it even knowing its risks or regret not even trying for the rest of your existence? Quite ironic for me to ask you that, don’t you think?”

Past the information board, Jeno researched more of your life history online. Your whole life was grounded on risks, from breaking the standards of your society, leaving your family and home country, to fending yourself from disrespectful men. Rather than living the original life expected from you, you chose not to because it didn’t make you happy. Such a risktaker he knew you are, but with the topic of love, he wondered why you were on a fence with it. Though some records stated you’ve had rendezvouses with a few men in your journeys, love was never in the equation. The single life was what you chose and you were more than satisfied, plus your adopted kids filled that supposed void anyways.

This man may have studied your history, but so much he still doesn’t know. Information that never made the books because you chose not to write or tell anyone about it. Aside from the discomfort growing in your chest, everyone else felt the awkward tension when you were lost for words.

Never been defeated in an argument, until tonight. Your mind lost its drive and willpower.

“Touché, Lee Jeno.” Indeed, his name you’re acquainted with. Numerously passed around in your exhibit, mostly from the lips of Cleopatra, who’d fantasize all the graphic things she would do to him. Too much information, least of your interest. “Please excuse me. I’d like to work on my sketches to ease my mind.”

As you quietly exited the room, an all too familiar sculpture leaned against the railings overseeing one side of the museum. Just like you, she hated accepting defeat or compromises. She always rooted for you to win. With a faint chuckle, “Facing a loss for the first time, I see.”

“Don’t even lecture me about it, Athena. I’m still fired up, and I need to relax.”

“Jeno is a different breed, isn’t he?” She stuck to your side, strolling wherever your feet led you.

“Different as in he’s a man? Yes. What else is there to it?”

“Men these days aren’t as trashy as those back in the day though. Shouldn’t you give him a chance?”

“Last time I did, it destroyed my heart. I’m not allowing myself to let men in even as a friend, Athena.”

She knew exactly what you were referring to, not touching on it further. No way will you let heartbreak or disappointment from men bother you. Even Sanghoon’s sweet company took a while to tolerate. You really needed to sketch this out on your pad right now, excusing yourself from Athena’s presence. Isolation wasn’t new to you; it’s what’s protecting your entire being. Immortal as you are, you had to recover from the past pain so the next decades won’t feel as brash.

You hoped to return to your old self when you were a fresh new figure in the 70s. So naïve, only proud of your accomplishments, and purely happy.

While Jeno continued to finish his scene in respect to Shakespeare, he received a standing ovation for his mini-show. Cleopatra didn’t expect such talent from him, growing fonder of the younger male. Whether she seduces him or not, he was never afraid to try new things and she liked that about him.

“Bravo, love!” Princess Diana praised, clapping at him.

Although Jeno appreciated all this positive attention, his thoughts bounced back to your and your stance on love. The debate earlier was just out of being playful, interested to hear your opinions. Though, he’s worried that he might’ve offended you. It may have been time to finally witness something like that, but then again, he was sure he touched something personal to you. No matter how you tried to fight it off, your eyes can’t lie. Staring down at him, there was pain beneath it. Your eyebrows scrunched to the center, thinking deeply yet remained utterly speechless.

A win he didn’t feel good about.

“It’s time she encountered something new in the years she’s been here. Give her some space tonight, then try again to reach out to her. Kindly this time; I’m not in the mood for another brawl that could end up like the Greek gods’ past fights downstairs.”

These clever words shared by Katherine loitered his mind for the rest of the night, eventually going back to finishing his current plate since everyone was behaving well. As great it is to get the approval of the majority, he tried brainstorming ways to make you like him too.

He understood the whole “men are trash” concept in today’s modern society, but if he could prove it wrong to at least one person, it would be you. Whatever is holding you back, he only hoped that you’d let it go. Questionably unsure as to why he was so persevering, he concluded that it was so he could perform his job better as the night guard. Set higher standards than Sanghoon even.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Weeks passed, and his attempts continued to be unsuccessful.

The capability for you to ignore his efforts remained strong, whether he was pestering you over small things or debating with you again about anything. Life, books, morals, the two of you always head butt each other. Anything good he did, you searched for a flaw in it. Whatever acts he’s tried and continued trying, not one flinch from you ever.

Even if that’s his state with you, his job no longer felt stressful nor strenuous. He’d try to sleep more on days he was off-duty. Although the fatigue of staying beyond his usual sleeping time was inevitable, he compromised to take a nap lasting an hour or two when the art pieces weren’t acting frisky.

Plus, there have been multiple times they adapted to any alterations so his physical well-being wouldn’t fall sick. Per order of Princess Diana and Hera, who by instinct became his motherly figures here, only wanting what’s best for the kids.

He became accustomed to everything that went on at night, discovering things on his own without Sanghoon’s guide. Anne talked about how much she missed biking in her neighborhood, so one night, Jeno snuck his bike inside and let her use it around the first floor. With proper monitoring so none of the paintings would be unbothered or pieces wouldn’t tumble.

Hermes the messenger god was fluent in every language possible, so every so often, Jeno would freely speak to him in Korean because sometimes he felt he could explode by the amount of English he used every night. Bilingual things, you know. He knew you were multilingual too, but for obvious reasons, he couldn’t converse with you.

Because Jeno was heavily favored, that should’ve been enough to push through his night shifts before the end of the semester. In addition to that, the hourly rate was above the average of whatever Jaemin or Renjun was earning. For the past 2 months, Jeno paid upfront first, even paying back all his debts. It almost made Renjun want to switch jobs with him.

“Trust me, Renjun. You don’t want it, being the lowkey scaredy cat you are.”

Work no longer felt like work, and that’s what everyone aspired to feel. Nevertheless, he tended to worry over you mid-shift, glancing at you from his side view. Sketching, reading, and writing were your default actions. No matter how many times he said to himself not to let your dislike for him affect him, it’d always backfire.

Why were you so cold?

What made you lose your fire from all the research he did about your lively personality?

When morning arrived and he gathered his stuff, you’d be the last thing he’ll check on. Frozen in your standing pose, smiling as you held a book and a pencil, he detected how fake it was. Bystanders would only assume your happiness was from your achievements, though Jeno’s gut firmly pried that something grand overpowered that happiness. And definitely, not in a good way.

Out of all the art pieces, he investigated on you the most. Skimming through every material in the library, endless searching on the net, even asking professors from the History department thanks to Renjun, he did whatever he could. People may already think he was obsessed with who you are, but only little did they know.

Another plate was done and submitted, and he promised himself to look you up one last time before surrendering. For someone who’s rarely given up on a challenge, this one was really out of his control. Maybe he should follow Sanghoon’s footsteps now.

You lived centuries before him, and there’s limited material of you left. Rather than learning of your adventures again, he dug through what things you liked over your life. Maybe by giving one of them, it’ll lessen the tension from a 100 to 99. Maybe you preferred gifts over words, he’ll never know until he tried.

Boom.

According to one of your journal entries, there’s a fond liking you’ve acquired for lavender roses from Benjamin and Liam when they visited you in Paris in secret because of how much you missed them. It went both ways, praying your family ties could be recovered.

It’s a good thing he needed to refill his stock of items for the art pieces so he could pass by the flower store a few blocks away from his dorm. That night, without further words, he graciously offered you a fresh lavender rose in between your new sketching session.

“I may not know exactly why you’re spiritless around me, but with this rose, I hope we could work something out.”

Your frigid face of disdain, keeping your chin high and squinting your eyes with judgment, began to crumble down. Of all things as a peace offering, he gave you that? Then again, it’s not like he knew that an item you liked so much became something you’ve grown to hate and why so. No history books could teach him that.

Vulnerability was a normal thing, yet feared by many. Once one uncovered your weak spot, they could harm you. You still couldn’t trust Jeno fully, not willing to show your helplessness nor were you ever going to tell him. Hidden from his knowledge, everyone else including Sanghoon were familiarized as to why this kind of flower tormented you.

You sprinted like thunder out the exhibit room to wherever it’s private to control your senses. You may not have a physical heart, but your emotions were just as actual as a human’s. You needed to regulate your panting breath. In the past decades, you’ve not shed a singular tear but the cycle broke when they streamed out your miserable eyes like a flowing river. Quiet sobs, an empty corner near the fire exit was where your wobbly legs faltered, the painful memories of the past replayed in your head. Once beautiful, but now an agonizing reminder of what could’ve been.

Katherine, Cleopatra, and Anne were swift on their feet to hunt you down, anxious of what you may do next. Seeing or the mention of these flowers still affected you despairingly. Sanghoon must’ve forgotten to write them down, or perhaps he didn’t know either about this fact during all the years he’s worked there.

It’s one of the biggest secrets of his museum. By the clueless face Jeno had with his eyebrows raised, mouth, and small eyes slightly open, he repeatedly asked what he did wrong and adding that he never meant to harm you. Indeed, they knew that yet what occurred involved a secret in the list of museum secrets. Confidential only between art pieces according to Athena, none of the male wax figures spoke a word, only pitying the boy.

“I wasn’t here yet that time, but they said that it was once beautiful, but now it’s a rough period.” With hesitation, Princess Diana chose to reveal it to rid Jeno’s misery. She didn’t mind having to argue about it with Athena later on, as this may further affect the two of you later on.

“A long time ago in the early ‘80s, there was a night guard around your age named Junmyeon. Also, a college student, trying to make ends meet. He did it for 3 years until he graduated. Though within his stay, not only was he such a delight to everyone, he broke a golden rule in the guide. I believe you do know the guide much more now, Jeno?”

“Yes, I do, Princess Diana. Memorized it even, but which one specifically?” Jeno’s desperate eyes pleaded, only hoping for the best and to fix what he messed up.

“You can form friendships with the art pieces, but nothing more.” Princess Diana replied bitterly. “Junmyeon was an aspiring painter, a different path from his business-oriented family. He was seen as the black sheep. She resonated with him, sharing the burden and lifting it by doing whatever fun they could in the museum. In time, they both fell in love with each other; they were each other’s first loves.”

“Why must something beautiful like love be broken? It’s not like you can control it. That golden rule makes no sense.”

“It does, unfortunately. Wax figures like me cannot age, while humans like you can. None of them could accept the reality, always pushing it away. Until Junmyeon’s last week in university, he broke it off with her unexpectedly. From there, (Y/N) was heartbroken for decades. With heartbreak, giving the cold shoulder and bitterness followed. Then with the lavender rose you gave that she used to love became a flower that she associated with Junmyeon too because he gave her one almost every night for those past 3 years.”

Things finally added up, and the guilt in Jeno’s gut expanded. His major lightbulb moment was a major failure.

“Has Junmyeon ever returned to try and win her back?”

“Well, there was one time he did come back for an art exhibition for his paintings in the 2000s. I was already here, then he had a woman around his shoulder with an adolescent boy holding his hand. He roamed around our exhibit and kept gawking at (Y/N). We may be asleep, but we remember the conversations exchanged in the room. So, his son then asked him if he knew who she was.”

“What did he respond?” Jeno attentively listened, on the edge of such a hurtful tale.

“He knew her name, praising her for historical achievements. However, nothing as a former friend or lover. From what I predict, he ingested one of Circe’s potions.”

“But I thought Circe isn’t allowed to make potions for actual consumption. She’s not even allowed to enter the Oriental Art Room.” Jeno pointed out, overwhelmed at the puzzling past. Princess Diana was mindful that she had to stop spreading too much information, so she had to end her discussion with the lost boy.

“There are a lot of secrets about this museum, Jeno. Unfortunately, I cannot reveal to you to protect our peace.”

With due respect, Jeno quit his follow-up questions and concerns. The only thing he wished to do was mend his relationship with you. As vague as to where you even stood in the first place, he unintentionally crossed a line due to his selfish intention to befriend you.

“What can I do now, Princess Diana? You know I’d never push her buttons like that, even if I’m a whimsical person.”

“Oh, my boy.” Princess Diana soothed, holding both her hand on his sweaty palm and cupping his cheek. “For the meantime, give her space. No taunting for a while, and just observe her from a distance. Though do not fret the slightest; I’m sure she’ll be okay again.”

During that interval, you were hunched on the wall, bawling and weeping like the wound was brand new again. While Katherine and Anne stood by your side, on the lookout for anyone who’d be spying on you, Cleopatra knelt in front of you as your infinite tears gushed down.

“My dear,” She tried to wipe some of them while holding your hand. “It’s been years, and Jeno didn’t know a single thing. He didn’t mean to do it.”

“I don’t care, Cleopatra! He should’ve stopped trying to socialize with me because I won’t ever live down my experience with Junmyeon.”

“As if crying like this will bring Junmyeon back to your life,” Cleopatra exclaimed, holding in her temper. Acquainted with heartbreak, it’s awful that it changed you entirely, but you should’ve found a way to heal. Throughout your attitude change, it’s mostly you in pain, not those you inflict it to. “My dear, I love you a lot. But this Jeno boy is different, and you know it.”

“He’s still a nightguard, for Christ’s sake, Cleopatra.”

“You shouldn’t generalize that all night guards are bad just because of one encounter that occurred at the wrong time.” Brushing some strands stuck by your wet visage, she professed to you bluntly. “You’re never going to know how good Jeno is unless you slowly open up again, (Y/N). Not forcing you the slightest, but healing started once you’ve acknowledged the past and move on from it.”

“But I’m scared, Cleopatra.” You restlessly admitted, hunching even more against the wall. Your poor, metaphorical heart could only take so much. You barely expressed sorrow towards others as you always held a strong exterior, only letting it out alone. Not holding back anymore, Cleopatra brought you in for a hug. The last time she did that was the first night after Junmyeon left, calming your intensified emotions so you wouldn’t do anything dumb that night. No violence, just pure sorrow.

“My dear, it’s alright.” She whispered while stroking your back upwards. “But you’re a risktaker; that’s how people remember you. Now, you must challenge yourself to move on from things that didn’t work out. Because once you do, it’ll put your heart and mind at ease.”

“Do you think I’ll be okay again?”

“Yes, you will be, my dear. You are not alone, and never will be.”

Acting like the dutiful son he always was, Jeno distanced from you.

He still cracked jokes, chatted with the art pieces, and followed the rules, yet never did he utter anything to you. You’ve proudly anticipated it since day one, not wanting him up in your business or teasing you ever. But this time, it felt odd.

On nights he didn’t report, you’ve unconsciously wondered what he may have been up to. A job like this at his age was just as Sanghoon once said: nothing in the regular.

Was he with his friends?

Was he resting well?

From the moment you chose to let go of your limitations and old thoughts, it included your grudge against past guards. Asking for forgiveness to Sanghoon when he returns was on the top of your list, however, that’ll take a while to happen. In the start, you’re baffled as to why he no longer picked on you like every night he’s been present. Somehow, it became a habit you’ve gotten used to, having so many comebacks planned to fend yourself. But you didn’t want to concede to it, maintaining what was left of your pride since that breakdown.

While on the subject, you suspected if anyone told him anything that night because that also indicated the last time he reached out to you. By anything, it would be your unwritten past with Junmyeon. A part of yourself in the museum that you didn’t want to disperse like rapid-fire again. It would be the last thing you wanted Jeno to know.

To your misfortune, Princess Diana came clean due to your growing concern over it. Although your attitude changed and people got used to it, you could only blame yourself that you were responsible for Jeno’s change.

“All he wanted was to understand and enlighten us with his likable presence. Then with you, you were his challenge because of your high walls. Out of everyone, he tried to learn everything about you. From my observation, whenever he has a goal, he’s determined to achieve it.”

“But I’m trying to be better now, Diana. Why did he stop?”

“He may have determination, but he knows where the boundaries lie.” Princess Diana patted the side of your arm, giving you a half-grin. “It hurt him when he hurt you, even if it was accidental. So he opted to give you space; that way, you could catch a breather and he wouldn’t harm you anymore. It was what you wanted from the start anyways, right?”

A hard pill to swallow, though it was a fact. It’s just that now, you’re slowly willing to release yourself from the dark. It’s been decades, and more to come. Nothing can move on unless you do.

“Where is he, Princess Diana?”

Just as she predicted right on the edge, Diana completed the grin on her face and led you to the entrance of your exhibit. She may be younger than you, but you’re reverted in your twenties while she remained in her mid-thirties. Gaping the wide museum from the railing, starting from the painting exhibit in the lobby to across the other side of the museum, Diana spotted the black hair of the boy in the Foreign Art Room.

“Over there.”

Observing where her eyes focused, you caught a glimpse of a recognizable side profile. The owner’s eyes were completely taken by whatever he was drawing on the fold-up desk he brought out from the storage room. By the tedious action of his right hand going up and down, you’ve gotten so used to his part-time identity as the night guard to entirely dismiss his current status as a university student.

Architecture specifically as he first introduced himself to you. The same path your oldest brother, Christopher, worked in. The look of tenacity Jeno presented as his eyebrows continuously scrunched, his crescent orbs hastily spied his work for any unnecessary details and his veiny hands brushed his already messy hair, you were profoundly reminded of Christopher when he was designing his possible future house. You were 8 years old, and he was 22, who just got married. He explained how many floors it’ll have, what rooms to put and what extra furniture he’ll place to make it feel more at home.

Seeing how exceptional his art skills were, you started to sketch like him. With flowers first, it turned into bedrooms and sceneries of your neighborhood. You felt your shoulders rise in accomplishment when you were able to accurately draw people. As much as you credited Benjamin and Liam the most in your works, it’ll only be within yourself to know that you also held a soft spot for Christopher.

Excusing yourself to Princess Diana, you bravely yet quietly ventured into the Foreign Art Room. Hiding first from one of the cement columns, you resumed watching him sketch. Instead of a pencil, he used a black pen with a tip as thin as a pencil. Your assumptions would be it was for a class, basing it on him informing everybody earlier that he’ll be inactive for the remaining hours of his shift to focus on his midterm requirements. That must be difficult to balance, yet he still does everything expected from him. Maybe the second cup of iced coffee beside him stimulated his bones and mind, letting his imagination free.

Through the limited space, you tiptoed whilst holding the side of the column to make up his work. There were 2 and a half rectangular shapes stacked on top of each other, the third one he was still tracing. A sign encrypted with tiny written words you couldn’t decipher, the beauty and modernity of Jeno’s plate cannot go unappreciated.

“That’s absolutely beautiful.”

Sweet words you didn’t think would bounce back in the room, Jeno’s pace ceased whilst you hid again. Art pieces capable of walking weren’t allowed here, he locked the door even beforehand! Or he thought as he was rushing to get his work done because one of his terror professors moved up the deadline to tomorrow morning. Not even 25% finished, he petitioned for everyone’s cooperation just for tonight.

He used up his 2 days of not having the night shift for other projects, and not wanting to ruin his perfect attendance, he proceeded to show up.

The voices from the foreign paintings around him hushed for him out of respect. So possibly someone snuck in, his head looking around for intruders. But only did he quit it when he saw your blurry reflection leaning against the column. The glass windows slightly mirror back what it sees, without you knowing that.

Not to mention, the small bit of your lilac dress was left out. Of all people, it was you?

“Do my eyes deceive me or is Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N) inside when she’s not allowed so?”

To break the killing tension, he tested the waves with an innocent taunt. Never did you reach out to him, so least to say he was entertained whilst keeping his distance.

Fixing your proud stance, you responded in a low baritone voice you used to persuade numerous men in her adventures. “Uhm no, I don’t know who she is.”

As intelligent as you were, Jeno was a few steps farther than you this time. Educated about the risky ways you’d get around and one of them was changing the pitch of your voice, he heartily laughed at your unsuccessful attempt.

“Okay don’t lie, (Y/N). I can see a trail of your dress and your cloak. Oh, your reflection too.”

Damn, you peeked a little to realize that he was correct. Hauling your dress back in to readjust your outfit, you pushed your hair back before appearing to him. Though when you did such, you didn’t suppose that he was practically beside you the entire time. Bumping into his towering stance of 5’10 while the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up, your proud posture loosened up. He even discarded his blazer. A few more inches, he could’ve cornered you on the column if you didn’t take another step back.

Has he always been this tall or were you so used to your boots having high heels under? Oh wait, maybe because you wore flats this time because it’s making your toes sore. Your head bowed from struggling to maintain eye contact with him, your palms caressing your cheeks that suddenly heated up. Clearing your throat, you straightened your back again like nothing happened.

Jeno thought otherwise, shrugging his shoulders as he chuckled. He’s never seen you get shy, not that it was a bad thing either. The temptation to play around it more was there, but he was running out of time for his assignment.

“Come in. I’ll let you off the hook this time.” His arms opened up, allowing you access to such a wonderful exhibit. Paintings from different European periods, miniature versions of famous infrastructures inside glass containers, and replicas of Greek columns in the front entrance, no wonder it’s important to protect them all.

“Are you sure?” Watching him return to his spot, which was a bench in the center of the exhibit with a table in front, it didn’t process that you were gawking at his toned back. His broad shoulders and the evident muscles in his arms while he stretched, your eyes were speedy to look away when he tried to take a glance at you.

“I don’t think the paintings here and I mind.” Sitting down again, he tapped the vacant space beside him. “Feel free to watch me draw if you want to.”

Settling by his side, he recommenced where he left off. Now with a closer view of his piece, it did look like a building as you thought. He was sketching the remaining outline of the 3rd floor of this hypothetical place, continuously checking his ruler to monitor if the lines were consistent. Able to pick up on the words of the sign beside the building, you wowed with one hand on your lips.

“You’re redrawing Seoul National University Museum of Art?”

“One of my plate assignments was to visualize a renovation of a certain place, so I chose the museum.”

“Why so?”

“Well,” Jeno shook his pen so the ink could come out. “This entire place comes to life with the royal plate, so I think we should expand the space and bring in more art pieces to life if we add another extra floor. A rooftop area for visitors and events would be fun. And definitely, we should modernize the exterior and interior a bit because it looks outdated personally. That’s also what my friends think too.”

Noticing the minor details of his plate whilst removing any unnecessary pens so it wouldn’t smudge, “Huh, I quite agree with you.”

For the first time since his night shift, you, (Y/N) (Y/L/N), came into an agreement with him. He became so accustomed to clashing opinions that now, you had no contrasting points to make at all. A good change perhaps was what he’s witnessing.

“Woah, who are you agreeing with me and where’s (Y/N)?” He creased his brows whilst locking eye contact with you. This time, you didn’t wince away and just nudged him on his shoulder to get back to work.

“Hush, Jeno. Isn’t that due later? Get to work, I’ll roam around here for the meantime.”

After decades in this museum, you’re enlightened with the foreign paintings in which some you’ve heard of in your younger years and some that were created beyond your time. The Birth of Venus, Liberty Leading the People, Girl with a Pearl Earring, there’s an advantage of learning about their stories that humans couldn’t interpret. Logical that this section must be off-limits because these pieces were extra special, yet there’s so much more than what meets the eye.

There’s peace in silence while you wandered around, though it doesn’t hinder only at the art. Jeno hasn’t uttered a word since he got back to drawing, and once you asked him what’s doing now, still no answer back. Odd, he’s constantly awa-

Oh, my. You must’ve jinxed it.

Your eyes laid on Jeno leaning forward on his desk with his arms serving as his pillow, resting his head sideways. Soft snores and minimal movement in his upper body to shake the growing cold temperature of the room, he was sleeping like a log.

Putting into perspective, he hasn’t acquired enough rest specifically this past 2 weeks. The endless number of plates due making him work extra during his shift rather than sleeping in the slightest, exhaustion must be an understatement. Coffee no longer pushed him to his maximum for this week even.

But this was the path he chose, and it’ll have its challenges. Still, if you could relieve the stress in any way, you would. This would be one of the ways to repay for all the rudeness you’ve passed on him. Scurrying to his side, placing the plate on the side with his other things. You returned the caps of his open pens so they don’t spill. They must be expensive, recalling how Jeno shared the cons of being an architecture major to Princess Diana. One was the pens needed for sketching, and any tiny damages to them meant buying them again.

With his watch on clear display, he only had 2 hours left until his shift was done. Then, 4 hours until his plate assignment was done, and his current plate was far from done.

The blunt impulse to wake him up slithered your mind, though his calm state deflected your duty. As if you were on board a ship again for your explorations, you paid attention to the view with a relaxed mindset.

Lee Jeno specifically was the view.

His coffee-stained lips were parted and his sharp nose breathing in and out at a relaxing pace, he must be dreaming a happy moment the way half his lips curved into a smile. If he’s resting well, then you too would be calm.

Because of your past disinterest in him, only at this moment did you observe how sharp his jawline was and the cuts on his arms he sought refuge in. No matter how many times you tried to deny Hera’s compliments of him on the side, you couldn’t.

Lee Jeno embodied attractive features; both physical and emotional.

Back to his plate, it’ll put him at a disadvantage if he submitted the way it looked before he passed out. But you remembered all those extra details he mentioned and wanted to add to this project. Being an explorer, you documented all your ventures through words or drawings. You’re fast to adjust to anything new too.

For all the good he’s done for everyone, he only deserved some help in return.

Your version of help was sketching the remaining details of this plate, using other pens for more emphasis. It’s a risk also, but no way could you turn a blind eye on Jeno this time.

Around 5:30 am, Jeno’s eyes blinked open due to a brightening light from the outside. Stretching his limbs, he finds a velvet cloak wrapped around him like a blanket. But before he could question it, he pulled his arm in to see the time on his watch.

“Fuck!” He cursed, realizing that his so-called 10-minute snooze break aborted.

“Oh my, you’re awake!” From his frazzled state, there you were. So put together yet active, some strands of your hair falling down your face even with your hair up in a ponytail. “How was your sleep?”

This whole time he could’ve been woken up, yet you chose not to. You’re aware of his deadline, yet you let him rest entirely. He could’ve burst out in stress, yet he didn’t. You and he may have started on the wrong foot, yet it’s impossible of you to do such an evil thing. He’ll just have to tolerate the outcome later today.

“Refreshing. I really needed it.” Packing his things in his bag and closing the table, you trailed along as he exited with you. Locking up, he has 30 minutes left to accomplish the cleaning. A long good morning indeed.

But his worry of that vanished when you admitted that you had it all covered.

“Everyone helped out in cleaning, plus there are no damages made either.” From your hand, you returned one of his keys that was on his guard blazer. “I double-checked the Oriental Room and locked the doors again.”

“Why are you suddenly so nice to me, (Y/N)?” He questioned with confusion, wearing his blazer again and patting away any creases. He placed your cloak over you again like a true gentleman.

Without a word, you simply invited him to walk you back to your exhibit as parts of the sun began to rise. As you returned to your section, your fellow figures readying themselves to pose again,

“It’s my way to apologize for my very rude first impression and the succeeding moments after. I was too cooped up in my past that I was too afraid to let humans in again, night guards in particular.” You admitted, removing your cloak and placing behind your chair like always. “I’m so sorry, Jeno. Everyone was right about you and your kind heart.”

“About time.” Cleopatra’s sultry voice cut in, laying on her day bed.

Before you had the chance to flip off, Jeno mediated swiftly. With a gentle smile, “No worries about it. I’m just happy you’re okay, after all you’ve been through.”

“Can we start over then?”

“Absolutely.” With his free hand, he brought it out. No matter what kind of introductions, shaking one’s hand was the best way to start a friendship. “Good evening. I’m Lee Jeno, the new museum night guard.”

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N), explorer and author.” Sighing at his humor, you still replied by shaking his hand. “And I believe you’re mistaken, Lee Jeno. It’s a good morning.”

Seconds after, you imitated your typical pose and smile. Only now, the latter was more genuine. Finally, a fresh start to end your agony.

Once the sun fully revealed itself, every figure including yourself froze back to sleep. Something Jeno wished to catch up on if it weren’t for his damn plate. He was so screwed, already contemplating his next steps if he does fail this class. The possibility of getting delayed in all aspects, he dreaded it already.

Heading back to his dorm, where both his roommates completely passed out from soju on the couch, he sat by his work desk and turned on his night lamp for more light since the sun wasn’t strong enough yet.

With another cup of coffee, he cracked the joints of his knuckles and laid out his pens. He had 2 hours left to submit this plate, and at most he should accomplish 50% of his initial plan. However, he didn’t anticipate such a gorgeous outcome when he brought out his plate.

Picture perfect of every detail he desired, even adding a rooftop area with that he’d love to have if ever the museum does go under renovation one day. Rather than setting the plate during the day, it was at night as the skies were dark and bright specks of yellow inside the building symbolized light.

So much for wasting coffee, he’ll just give it to Jaemin when he wakes up later. Below the final product, a note written in cursive was stuck on it.

I knew you wanted to get this specific plate done, but you mustn’t compromise your sleep for it. It’s your inhumane professor’s fault!

To make up for my faults, I wanted to help you out. I paid extra attention to the details you spoke highly about, so I only hoped that I interpreted it correctly. It’s risky, but as someone who researched so much about me, would you be surprised that I did such a thing?

PS: Get back to sleep. I’m quite sure your desk is laid out the same way in the Foreign Art Room.

Respectfully,

(Y/N)

Turning off his lamp, Jeno jumped the covers of his bed to continue his lost sleep. Without an ounce of care that he hasn’t changed into cleaner clothes, he’s relieved that he won’t flunk his class.

Most of all, he’s relieved that you’ve melted the ice in you and allowed kindness to come in. Jeno may never understand how hard that must’ve been for you, yet he raved you for it.

“Oh, (Y/N) (Y/L/N). Surprise is an understatement when it comes to you.”

778 notes · View notes

sweetchup · 3 years

Text

Bi•valve

Noun

an aquatic mollusk that has a compressed body enclosed within a hinged shell, such as oysters, clams, mussels, and scallops.

AKA

The Most Common Seashell in the Ocean

————————

Vol. 2: Into the Deep // Ch. 6

Type: Poseidon x reader

Word Count: 3,000+

Masterlist

————————

Cold. That’s the only way you could describe the man in front of you.

Cold as in his eyes were like stone. As if they were dead as they stared down at you. Cold as in that you couldn’t read him, at all. Even as he was covered head to toe in blood, you had no clue what he would do next. Cold as in he was intimidating. Way too intimidating. Like a primal feeling in you was screaming danger at you. It made you want to bolt from the spot.

“Tch…” You instantly freeze as Poseidon finally lets out a sound. He glares down at you in disgust as if you were some dirt on his shoe, “My brother must be losing his mind.”

Scared, you let out a small gulp. Your throat all of sudden feels extremely dry. Brother? Was he perhaps referring to Zeus? So, that must mean this was Poseidon. Right…?

“S-So…” You pause for a moment as you decide if you should dare continue, “…Are you Poseidon?”

You shouldn’t have done that. With a loud bang, you slowly turn your head to look at the Trident he cleaved down in the sand next to you. Its harsh throw sending the sand beneath and surrounding you in the air in a huge rumble.

“Ack!” You spit out as Poseidon suddenly grabs your jaw while you are distracted. His harsh grip on you as he turned your face to look at him felt as if he was trying to crush the bone of your jaw underneath. Even though you knew it was useless, you squirm lightly underneath his grip in hopes to lessen his tight grip.

“Pathetic.” He spits out in a grumble as he watches you squirming. Letting out a small huff, he watches you for a couple of more seconds before finally releasing your jaw. A sore feeling begins to replace the pain you had previously felt. “Humans do not address a god by their name. Especially pathetic mortals such as yourself.”

You feel the need to flinch under his harsh words but thankfully stop yourself. Instead choosing to tighten your grip on Triton who still laid unconscious in your arms. You understood that what Poseidon said was partially true. A mortal such as yourself had no chance against a god, nevertheless one of his stature and power. But he still didn’t have to be so blunt about it. Even Zeus held some sort of common courtesy when interacting with you.

“Ugh…” Startled by the sound, you spin your head downwards to look at Triton who was letting out a loud groan. His face scrunched up in pain as he wiggled around in your hold to get up.

Instantly, you put your hand on Triton's chest to stop him. Worried with the amounts of cuts and blood he was covered in that he could possibly have a fatal injury, “Shh. Don’t move, Triton. It’s okay. I got you.”

Triton seems to thankfully listen to your words and stop moving, relaxing back into your arms. Instead using the energy he had left to open his eyes to look up at you. Though, as you stared down at him with concern, you could tell he couldn’t properly see you. His eyes shrinking and dilating in an attempt to see what was in front of him.

“Triton, can you see meeeE—“

Gasping, you instantly pull Triton closer to your body as you are carelessly lifted off the ground by Poseidon. The blonde male with one arm underneath your knees and the other holding your waist behind the small of your back stands up as if you two weighed nothing. Even slightly throwing you up in the air to adjust his grip. You stared confused at Poseidon whose gaze looked away from you for the first time since he arrived. Instead staring out at the waves of the sea.

As the male began to walk towards the water, you wanted to question what he was doing. Wanted to question why in the world he had picked you up and was currently holding you. Why he hadn’t killed you on the spot. Why he was walking towards the water. But chose against saying the thoughts that were present in your mind. Remembering fearfully the sharp gaze he gave when you not only called his name but also spoke out of turn.

However, you soon regret not speaking your thoughts out loud. Or, at the very least, putting up a fight.

“H-Hey! What are you?!” You screech out as Poseidon travels further into the sea. The cold crashing waves now hitting your feet and soon traveling up to the rest of your body as Poseidon continues further in. “Hey! Stop! We’-I’ll Drow—“

“Shut up.” Poseidon barks out. Even though he doesn’t bother to give you a glance, you still hear the venom in his voice and freeze up. You looked worriedly around you as the water got higher and higher, all the way up til your chest and neck.

“A-Ah.” You can’t help but let out as you see Triton’s head starts to sink underneath the water. Quickly, you fix your grip on the boy and lift his head above the water. Even if he was an aquatic god, you still weren’t sure if he could breathe underwater. However, the only problem with lifting Triton above the water is that it pushed you further under. The waves now crashing against your chin instead of your neck.

“W-Wait—“

As you gasped out your last word, your head went under. You struggled slightly as Poseidon continued to trech forward but couldn’t do much as you didn’t want Triton’s head to drop underneath the water. Even if you knew it was fruitless and Triton would eventually go under, You hoped he would wake up and make an escape.

Stupid human.

As Poseidon's head finally goes under the water and he begins to float down, deeper into the sea, he finally turns his head back to stare at you. You really were pathetic and stupid as the other humans. Lifting his son’s, Prince of the sea, head above the water as if he could actually drown. What a joke.

What in the world did his brother see in you? Making a huge show in the courtroom about how you would be the perfect substitute for Amphitrite. How everyone should at least give you the chance to be Triton’s nanny and take care of him. How you would help the child grow and shit. How you would actually pay attention to him.

Poseidon feels himself freeze for a moment before tightening his grip more on you. Your body had already began to grow limp in his arms. If he so pleased, he bet he could just tighten his grip more on your frame and you would shatter in a million pieces.

Pathetic. Pathetic. Pathetic. Pathetic. Fragile.

Poseidon grunts out in disapproval at the disgusting passing thought in his mind. You were just a pathetic being. One that would pathetically die right here.

Poseidon once again grunts as the feeling of annoyance passes by in his mind. It must have been all those stories Zeus shared at the trial while he secretly observed you two. As a perfect being he shouldn’t be so easily swindled by such thoughts. His son once again was making him weak.

This is why I stayed away in the first place, Poseidon thought as he rolled his eyes.

Slowly, Poseidon trails his hand up from the small of your back to your cheek. He tilts your head that was flopped to the side with his thumb so that you looked at him.

‘The perfect substitute for Amphitrite’. His brother sure was cruel. You were nothing but a small mouse compared to the apex predator that was his, likely, soon to be ex-wife. The minute Amphitrite lays her eyes on you she would surely kill you.

Poseidon gives your cheek a slight stroke around the bruise that was settling there. You really were pathetic, getting a bruise from such a weak grip.

Little by little, Poseidon leaned down closer to your face. His nose grazing yours slightly causes him to pause as he once again observes you. He wondered if what he would do next would end up getting you killed.

You truly were Pathetic after all. Even amongst all the humans he has met over the many millenniums. Though, he couldn’t deny, much better than the venomous Amphitrite.

I’ll just throw you away later when I’m done, Poseidon decides as he finally closes the gap. His lips swallowing yours in a harsh kiss as he brings his palm away from your cheek to wrap around the back of your neck. For once in his life being careful not to snap someone’s spine in half.

Fragile.

That thought once again passes by in Poseidon’s mind as he continues to hold you close to him. Fragile like fine china. Yet also soft…, warm… A contrast to his cold and strong marble like body. The body of a god.

Disgusting.

Finally, Poseidon pulls away, scrunching up his nose in distaste. It seems he’ll have to ‘talk’ to his brother about interfering in his personal life again. Though, it’s not like his brother ever listened to begin with.

What a pain.

—.—.—.—.—

Were you dead?

No, you were definitely still alive. For your body felt like a ton of bricks. So much so that even lifting a finger exceeded all of your energy available.

But how were you still alive?

Did Poseidon possibly save you in the end? Knowing that asshole it wasn’t likely. Perhaps Zeus swooped in at the end or Triton saved you. A possibility…but also still highly unlikely. You guessed you would have to find out for yourself.

“Ugh…” You groan out as you attempt to open your eyes only to shut them again. The light in the room felt all too blinding. That wouldn't work, you couldn’t see anything in front of you but it wasn’t like you had any other options, you would have to try again. “Shit…”

You once again attempt to open your eyes. Your vision was still hindered by the light this time but it was at the very least bearable.

Ah, that’s painful. You can’t help but hiss out as you attempt to lift your arm to cover the light coming into your eyes.

It seems you would have to wait patiently for your vision to… return…

You feel yourself freeze as something blurry comes into your view. It was blue and shiny, seeming to levitate or float towards your face.

“W-what…?” You can’t help but spit out as you stare at the thing approaching you. Blinking and unblinking as you attempt to make your eyes address what was in front of you, “A-A fish…?”

It was in fact a fish. A giant one at that, if you had to guess it was about the length of your forearm. But, how was it floating there in front of you…? Fish can only exist in wa—

“Hello My Lady!”

The…

The Fish…. Just talked.

You stared in horror at the thing in front of you. You had to be out of it, there was no way that a fish had just talked to you. Nevertheless be actually able to breathe air…

“No way…” You gasped out as you finally drifted your gaze away from the fish. Now that your eyes had finally fully adjusted, you could finally see where you were.

You were…

Underwater.

Specifically you were underwater in a fantasy noble-like bedroom: Ginormous in size, able to fit a huge bed, couch, dressers and, of course, still plenty of space to be able to walk around. The only difference from the fantasy-like bedroom that one would see in novels was that it was clearly flooded with water.

“My lady?” The fish calls once again, “Are you okay?”

“How—how? What— You…” You gasp out in confusion, only to suddenly stop and grab at your throat. How were you breathing underwater to begin with?

“M-My Lady please calm down!” The fish shouts out worriedly as it watches you panic. “I promise I’ll explain everything once you calm down.”

You pause at the fish’s words, he was correct. You had to calm down if you wanted to get to the bottom of what was going on with you. You attempt to take a deep breath to calm yourself but quickly scrap the idea as it felt way too odd to you. Instead choosing to just nod your head to get on with the fish’s explanation, “O-okay…”

“Thank you, My lady.” The fish tells you as it somehow bows, at the least what looks like a bow, “My name is Marine and I’m a Servant at Lord Poseidon’s Palace…”

So, Poseidon must have saved you. But,… why… it didn’t make sense with all he stated on the shore. Zeus or Triton must have made some sort of interference to save you.

“…Please do not worry as you are still alive and well. The reason you are breathing underwater and communicating with me is due to the blessing you gain from Lord Poseidon.”

“B-Blessing..?” You ask a gasp as you look down at yourself. Patting yourself in certain places to make sure you were all well only to let out a small groan. It seemed you were still sore and in pain.

“Please be careful, My Lady.” Marine tells you worriedly as pats you with his fin. Seeming to attempt to push you backwards so you can lay back down. Thankfully, once you comply with Marine’s request, it answers your question, “Gods can usually bestow 3 things on humans: Curses, Blessings and Ambrosia. Though this can differ from god to god based on what they can accomplish. Curses are pretty self explanatory but Blessings and Ambrosia are complicated. Blessings are gifts or abilities that are bestowed upon humans by gods. In Lord Poseidon’s case he bestowed upon you the ability to breathe underwater and communicate with sea life like other aquatic folk.”

“I see…”

“Finally, Ambrosia is what happens when a human consumes the blood of a god. If said human somehow survives the consumption, they are bestowed the gift of being a Demi-god. So far only one human has survived consuming Ambrosia and that is Lord Hercules.”

Dangerous. Not just in the way of how powerful Ambrosia is but in how many times you could have accidentally consumed it from Triton alone. Even though a God’s skin is stronger than a human’s it wasn’t by much as they could still bleed just as easily. The amount of times you had to bandage Triton’s scrapes when he tripped or bumped into something proved that.

“My Lady?”

At Marine’s call, you are startled out of your thoughts, “Ah sorry. I—“

“P-please don't apologize! You are my lady, you have nothing to apologize for.” Marine shouts out as he visibly pales, “I am your servant, it is actually my fault for disturbing you while you were clearly thinking.”

“A-ah I wouldn’t say that…” You murmured out, clearly disagreeing with what Marine was telling you. Though… You find yourself pause as a thought suddenly hits you, “Marine, Why are you calling me ‘My Lady’?”

“Why that’s because you are the new lady of the Manor.”

“T-the manor? What Manor?”

“Southern Manor, Of cours—“ Marine seems to pause at his words as he realizes something. “I sincerely apologize, My Lady. I totally forgot that since you are from the human realm that you have no idea what has happened here.”

Marine looks around the room before finally spotting what he was looking for and swimming over to it. A map…? You sit up slightly as you look over at the giant map that mount the wall above a dresser.

“At the Palace, there are 5 Manors that make up its body. Pacific Manor, The main Manor that holds the king and queen of the sea. Arctic Manor, which holds and trains the knights that protect Atlantis. Atlantic Manor, Lord Triton’s as well as any future heirs Manor. Indian Manor, which holds Lord Triton’s classes, storage and other needed rooms. And Finally, Southern Manor…., for Lord Poseidon’s Mistresses.”

“M-mistresses?!” You spit out as you shoot up from your spot. You couldn’t believe what you had just heard. In no ways would you bed Poseidon. This wasn’t what you wanted when you accepted to be Triton’s mother. You didn’t want to actually be with his father.

“P-please calm down, My Lady. You aren’t one of Lord Poseidon’s Mistresses. My Lord has never taken a Mistress ever.” At Marine’s explanation, you let out a sigh of relief. Thank goodness. “The reason I call you My lady is simply because you are now Lord Triton’s official guardian along with Lord Poseidon after Lady Amphitrite was ruled irresponsible for such duties. Due to Lady Amphitrite still not officially divorced from Lord Poseidon, she still lives in Pacific Manor. So you can not live there as of now and the second best place is here in Southern Manor.”

“O-oh…” You choke out. Though you were happy that you were officially Triton’s guardian and can still stay by the boy’s side, you weren’t sure how long you would last. Especially since you were sure that woman was now going to be out for your throat. “…but couldn’t she just come over to this Manor if she so pleased?”

“Not at all, My lady. Do not worry.” Marine informs you as it points its fin to the cluster of three manors at the top. “The Atlantic Manor, Southern Manor and Indian Manor were all originally designed to hold an intricate sea garden in the middle. This idea was later scrapped by Lady Amphitrite but, by the time she denied it, a tall metal fence had already been put up that surrounded the three buildings to keep unauthorized visitors out from the garden. Under Lord Poseidon’s watch, early this morning a sea witch put up a spell that forbade Lady Amphitrite from entering anywhere in the gated area. So she will not be able to get anywhere near you or Lord Triton.”

“Oh. Thank goodness” You mutter out as you let out a sigh of relief. Finally, you and Triton could live in somewhat peace after—

Triton…!

How could you possibly forget about what happened with Marissa? Was Triton treated for his wounds once he got back?

“My Lady, you can’t get up—“

“Marine. Please take me to see Triton. I need to see him at once!”

Author Note: Ooooop— We got a little insight on how Poseidon feels about the reader and still what in the world happened to Triton? I’m just glad Vol. 2 is up and I can’t wait for the next chapter. Yet, Triton… I miss you 😢. Come back soon in my writing, bud. We need you to lighten up the atmosphere.

Taglist: @angeli-fucking-cat @marixxhq @sproutcorner @orophaea @anime-lover-forever-1127

#shuumatsu no valkyrie #shuumatsu no valkyrie x reader #snv poseidon x reader #snv poseidon #snv #record of ragnarok #bivalve

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jade-parcels · 3 years

Text

🦑 The marble game 🦑

With Xiao and Zhongli (not a ship ofc)

Tw: crying, gunshots, blood, squid game spoilers

The grey bag of marbles feels heavy in Zhongli’s hand as the announcer speaks, telling everyone that no, groups of two will not be facing off against other groups. Groups of two will play against each other.

When Xiao snatched Zhongli’s hand earlier, marking the two as partners, he had rattled off something along the lines of “We have an advantage here. You and I have a bond that those other guys don’t”. His stomach twists just thinking about it. Xiao isn’t taking the news any better, he looks pale and has to sit down.

“I thought…I thought we…” Xiao covers his face with his hands, breath quickening. Zhongli sits in the dirt beside him

“There is no need to worry. We can play whatever you want, you can even break the rules if you wish-“

“No! This- this wasn’t supposed to happen!” Xiao grabs his father’s arm, shaking his shoulder “We were supposed to go up against another team! We were supposed to win together! Don’t you get it? I can’t- I can’t do this!”

Zhongli ignores his son’s yelling, choosing to talk over him instead “How about we play a children’s game. That will make it easier. We can play ‘even or odd’, just like we did when you were little. It won’t be too hard-“

“Don’t you fucking get it??” Xiao’s shaking him harder now “I can’t kill you!! I can’t do it! I can’t- I- I can’t do this!”

“Yes you can. You’re a smart boy. Now come on, let’s play” Zhongli sticks his hand into his bag, pulling out two marbles. He keeps his hand closed as he presents it to Xiao. “Even or odd?”

“I’m not playing this”

“Even or odd?” Zhongli asks again

“I said I’m not fucking playing this-“

“Xiao. Even or odd”

Xiao’s eyes widen as he looks up at his father. He’s never seen him look afraid before. But he does. He looks scared…He looks out of his element. Xiao reluctantly lets go of him, grabbing a marble of his own. He closes his eyes, rubbing his face “I guess…I dunno…even..?”

Xiao goes from having ten marbles to eleven. Then he gains two more. Then he loses three…They have a half an hour to play, there’s no need to rush. This is just a game after all, nothing more, nothing less. A game between father and son, just how they used to play. A game they would play while waiting for the bus or on a rainy day. They played many games together, checkers and chess, marbles and board games. They’ve spent so much time together over the years, it’s too bad this will be the last time…but they’d rather not think about that right now.

The two chat about life. What Xiao’s been up to at university, what Zhongli’s been up to as a single dad. Xiao talks about his art projects and final essays, Zhongli talks about his coworkers at the bank and how he brags about his son all the time. Xiao rolls his eyes and loses another three marbles. He feels happy as he loses, talking more as he does to mask that feeling. He wants to lose. He wants his dad to go home to his sisters.

Zhongli talks some more, a bit about his car, more about his neighbors’ noisy dog. He does an impression that makes Xiao laugh. Xiao loses another two marbles. The two smile as they spend their time together. And just as quick as it started, their game comes to an end. Xiao hands his last marble to his father, shaking his empty bag to show he has none left to play with.

“Ah,” Golden eyes stare down at the marble in his hand “It seems…I’ve won” Zhongli recounts his marbles just to be sure. Sure enough, he has all twenty now. His son has none.

Xiao looks relieved, his shoulders sag and he takes a shaky breath “Thank god…thank god you’ve won” he whispers “That’s all I wanted, you deserve to walk out of here dad…” Xiao wraps his arms around himself. He has never looked so small, so weak. But this is what he wanted. He knew he would have to face Zhongli at some point…He didn’t know it would have been today but…He knew. He knew his sisters needed him, that his family needed his dad to go home. So he’d take the bullet if it meant his dad could go home.

The soldier in pink moves to approach and Zhongli stops him, holding his hand up “I see. You played well, I never would have thought you would beat me like this” he chuckles and takes a step forward, resting his hand on his son’s shoulder. “Then…Before I’m escorted out, may I give you a hug…one last time? You would not deny your old man one last hug before you go, right?” Golden eyes meet amber ones, the two share a moment of silence before Xiao’s tattooed arms come to wrap around his fathers torso. Zhongli smiles, rubbing soothing circles into his back “Thank you. For everything. You’re the best son I could have ever hoped for. I hope…you know just how proud I am of you, of the man you’ve become”

As Xiao cries into his fathers chest, Zhongli makes a move. He moves slowly, carefully, so he will not give away his plan. He tightens his grip on his son as he slips the bag of marbles into his boy’s pocket, then wrapping both arms back around him again. This time, he savors the moment with his boy as best he can but it doesn’t last long. Zhongli closes his eyes, sighs and shoves his son back. Xiao looks confused as Zhongli shows the soldier an empty bag, the very same that had been in Xiao’s pocket moments ago.

Xiao cries out, grabbing the marbles from his own pocket to try to give them back to his dad, but he won’t listen. He just smiles down at him, eyes watery as he holds onto that empty bag.

“Please! Please take them! Do you hear me? Dad, please!” He cries, throwing himself to the ground at his feet to cry “You have to be the one to live! You have to! Ganyu needs you! A-and Hu Tao needs you! You can’t do this!”

The display of emotion hurts Zhongli more than anything. He has never seen Xiao cry this way. Does he think he doesn’t want to go home? That he doesn’t want to see his daughters again? Of course he does…But as a father, he would never be able to live with himself if he allowed his son to be killed like this. Zhongli now cries with his son. He can’t believe he allowed his boy to be dragged into this game, he can’t believe he did such a poor job of providing as a father that his son came to risk his life for a few million dollars for him and his sisters. No, Zhongli would take the fall and just pray his som would survive the final two games. Three games? He doesn’t even know, he can barely think

“Xiao…please walk away. You’ve won,” Zhongli nudges him with his foot “Please, I can’t let you see me die”

Xiao stands, only to attempt to attack a guard. He’s grabbed and dragged away, screaming and kicking the whole way. Zhongli can’t bear to hear it anymore, he can’t bear to feel this guilt anymore…As much as it hurts, at least he knows he’s helped his son one last time. Right? Like a good father should…

He takes a shaky breath as he listens. He hears Xiao’s screams getting further away, he hears other cries as well, not just his son’s. He hears his own heartbeat, his own breath, the wind from the air conditioner. In his mind, he pictures his family together. Hu Tao’s mischievous smirk, Ganyu in her gardening clothes, Xiao and his cat. He hears the gun cocking and then…There’s nothing. He can rest easy now. He’s had an eventful week, after all.

#yeah idk I just shat this out #genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin impact writing #genshin impact xiao #genshin impact zhongli #dad zhongli

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talatomaz · 4 years

Text

kidnapped | hailey upton x fem!reader

a/n: of course, I have to make everything angsty since hurt-comfort is my fave genre 😁

this is based off 5x16 (chicago med) but instead of nat being kidnapped, it’s the reader.

requested by anon: “a hailey upton x female reader. where the reader works at 51 or med and both hailey and the reader have hidden their relationship from everyone.”

warnings: mentions of blood/guns. kidnapping (past and present). sexual references

word count: 2.4k

masterlist | navigation | request rules

after reader gets kidnapped by a murderer, hailey finds herself losing her mind because, though nobody else knows, her and reader have been in a relationship for almost a year and she is the love of her life

i do not give you permission to repost or translate my fics on any platform - likes/reblogs are okay and are much appreciated

“Okay, I’m at work now. Have a great day, love.”

“You too, baby. Bye.”

You smiled as your girlfriend disconnected the call.

You had been dating Hailey for just under a year and you couldn’t help but be a bit pleased that the two of you had managed to keep it a secret this long.

With you working in Chicago Med and Hailey working in Intelligence, there was a lot of overlap with your work and considering you all spent your free time at Molly’s, it was a surprise that no one knew of your relationship.

You’d met Hailey almost two years ago. She had brought in a young teenager who’d been a victim of a home invasion - her parents had been brutally murdered leaving her as the sole survivor.

Hailey had remained by her side the entire time and you couldn’t help but appreciate that. Many detectives tended to just leave the injured with you or your fellow colleagues and then go off to work their respective cases.

Not that there was anything wrong with that, mind you. But there was something about the way that Hailey cared for this child that had just captivated your heart.

And since that day, you’d found yourself pining, for lack of a better word, over the blonde. But what you hadn’t realised was that she had felt the exact same way about you.

For several months, the two of you found yourself dancing around your feelings, both on the precipice of revealing your feelings before relenting at the last second. It was only until Ruzek had hit on you one night at Molly’s that had Hailey finally revealing how she felt about you.

You remembered how she stood there, cheeks red from the cold, eyes full of jealousy and black with lust. Suffice it to say, you couldn’t help but mentally thank Adam for unwittingly hitting on you because it had allowed you to finally be with the detective. And almost a year down the line, you were stronger than ever.

“Morning, Dr L/N!”

Blinking, you gathered your thoughts and turned to see Dr Marcel walking towards you. Furrowing your brows, you spoke, “Didn’t your shift start an hour ago?”

“Forgot my badge in my car. I should superglue it to my forehead.”

Returning his laugh, you spoke, “Think a stapler might work better.”

As you were about to walk away, your head whipped around to face a man running up the two of you. You immediately noticed the blood staining his hands and before you could speak, his voice came out in a frantic and rapid pants. Partly because he was running but mostly, you assumed, because of fear.

“Help! My wife. She’s in labour. She’s bleeding real bad.”

Glancing over at Crockett, you saw that his expression mirrored yours and, without hesitation, the two of you ran after the man, following him to his car to help his wife.

You were shocked, however, when upon approaching the van, you saw a man lay bleeding on the floor. His hand raised, a gun in his palm. Though it was winter, the sun still beamed and the light glistened off the metal, threatening to blind you.

“Give me your phones and get in.” The man, who’d come running up to you just moments before, said harshly.

“You don’t have to do this.” You said calmly, obeying his orders.

You weren’t sure how your voice came out so steady when it felt like your heart was beating out of your chest, the lump in your throat threatening to choke you before his gun would surely kill you.

“I’m the surgeon, alright. Let her go.”

Crockett’s attempts to reason with the two men were futile as they shouted for the two of you to get in.

Holding your breath, you willed yourself to calm down, needing to believe that Hailey would soon be looking for you.

God, please let Hailey find you.

✧── ･｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

“Get up.”

Turning to look behind you, the man, who’d tricked you this morning, opened the van doors and you fought to hide a shiver as the cold Chicago air blasted through you.

You looked over at Marcel who tried to sit up as best he could, “I’m the surgeon. Let me go. I know what to get.”

“Cuff him. Do it.”

Catching the set of handcuffs that had been thrown in your face, you followed the man’s orders and, with a solemn look, you cuffed your friend to the bar above his head.

“Come on.”

You bit your tongue to prevent a curse leaving your lips as the man, what could only be described as, yanked you out of the van and held you tight to his side.

“Make any stupid moves and you and your friend both die.”

After picking up some supplies, you approached the checkout and silently pleaded at the cashier with your eyes, wishing that he could see the panic in your eyes and alarm someone to your predicament.

When it became obvious that that wasn’t going to happen, you began to lose hope before catching a glimpse of a security camera in the corner of your eye. Glancing up at your kidnapper, you saw he was preoccupied with paying, giving you a brief moment of reprieve to remove your hospital badge, letting it fall to the marble ground.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go.” The man said, feigning a nurturing tone as he spoke to you through clenched teeth.

You winced at his harsh grip and followed him back to the van where you helped Marcel perform surgery to repair the bullet wound in the man’s leg, whom you assumed to be the brother of the driver.

Hailey frowned as she looked at the text she had sent you a few hours earlier; the one tick indicating that you hadn’t read it yet.

Where were you?

She tried to reason with herself, believing that maybe you were busy in the ER but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad had happened.

And Jay and Voight’s secrecy only seemed to add to her panic.

For the past few hours, her partner had been leaving the district and then coming back with a schooled look on his face that Hailey knew he used to conceal his worry.

And it didn’t help that whenever his phone rang, he left to privately answer it and immediately went to Voight’s office, closing the door which people only did in serious situations.

When Jay left Voight’s office, Hailey got up from her chair and grabbed Jay’s arm, dragging him into the dingy break room.

“What’s going on?”

“What?” Halstead crossed his arms, his attempts to feign confusion failing miserably.

“Never play poker, Jay. What’s going on?” Hailey repeated.

Jay sighed, “Dr L/N and Marcel have been kidnapped.”

The blood drained from Hailey’s face as she grew visibly pale. Trying to keep her voice as steady as she could, she spoke, “What?”

“Maggie found their phones in the car park. There was blood on them and we lifted a partial print and matched it to Tyler Clemons. A convicted murderer.”

Hailey leaned against the table when she felt her knees buckle beneath her.

Halstead stared at her in concern but before he could question it, his phone rang.

Hailey watched silently as he hummed in response to the other person on the line. When he disconnected, he looked at the blonde, his eyes filled with unbridled relief.

“I think we’ve found them. Gear up. I’ll tell Voight.”

Without hesitation, Hailey immediately rushed out the door and ran downstairs to get ready.

✧── ･｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

“This is Detective Jay Halstead with the Chicago Police Department.”

Your shoulders slumped in relief as you heard your friend’s voice be projected through, what you assumed was, a megaphone.

The two men had taken you to their mother’s home where you gained clarity on the reasoning for their actions.

The injured man, who you learned was called Tyler, had a young son diagnosed with terminal brain cancer. Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything you or Marcel could do, and instead, you’d been forced to restrain yourself to the wooden chairs you were currently sitting on.

You listened as Halstead announced that the house was surrounded, hoping that Hailey was outside but simultaneously wishing that she wasn’t in fear of it going sideways - you didn’t want her to see your dead body.

“Here. Uncuff her.”

You held your breath as Tyler threw the keys at Crockett, not wanting to say a word in case he ended up changing his mind.

After he freed you, you rubbed your wrists, slightly wincing at the red marks that had risen on your tanned skin. Then you began to protest when Tyler made it obvious that he was only letting you go but after some persuasion from your friend, you reluctantly left Crockett in the house.

Opening the front door to the suburban home, you felt another wave of cold air run through you and you raised your hands in a surrendering gesture.

“Patrol, stand down. Friendly coming out.” Jay had yelled and then you found yourself being hurried behind shields to where Jay stood.

And Hailey.

The moment you laid eyes on the blonde, you fell into her arms as she held you fiercely against her.

Her arms wrapped tightly around you before she pulled you back. Her eyes roamed over you, trying to look for any injuries.

“I’m okay.” You whispered, your hands on hers.

Her eyes filled with tears as she tugged you back towards her and kissed you. The kiss was passionate, laced with the ferocity that often came with almost losing someone you love.

Pulling away once more, you rested your forehead against hers and breathed out, your breath coming out in harsh pants.

“I think the cat’s out of the bag now.”

You laughed dryly as you glanced up, noticing Halstead, Maggie, Natalie and April staring at you both with wide eyes.

“I don’t care.”

And you could tell she truly didn’t when she kissed you again, more tender this time.

“God, I thought I’d lost you. I was so worried.”

“I’m okay, baby. I’m right here.”

You reassured your girlfriend as you embraced her once more, wanting nothing more than to feel her bare skin on yours, devoid of the winter clothing she was currently wearing.

“I love you so much, y/n. I never want to be without you again.” Hailey whispered harshly, gently rocking you in her arms, her hand cradling your head against her chest.

✧── ･｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

“I’m glad to see you’re okay, y/n.”

“Thanks, Kev.”

Almost everyone had gathered at Molly’s despite it being past midnight. You’d all collectively decided that, after the day you’d had, you needed a drink. Marcel had stayed for a while and you thanked him for looking after you whilst you were taken. Hailey also expressed her gratitude to the surgeon which he accepted graciously before deciding to turn in for the night.

You were currently sitting in a booth, cuddled up against Hailey, her arm wrapped comfortably around your waist.

Since the house, she hadn’t left your side once, not when you were getting checked out by the paramedics nor when you were giving your statement to the police.

And whilst being by your side, she also never let her hands leave you. Whether it be a hand on yours or her arm around your waist, she was never not touching you.

To be truthful, you were grateful because her touch grounded you and made you feel safe in a situation where your sense of security had been shattered.

“That was a smart move, dropping your badge on the gas station’s floor.” Halstead commented, sipping his beer.

“Did what I had to do. Speaking of which, Maggie, I’m gonna need that back so I can go to work tomorrow.”

Just as Maggie was about to hand the badge over to you, she snatched it out of your reach.

“Um, I don’t think so. You are taking a few days off, at the minimum.”

You raised your brows, challenging her when she spoke again.

“L/N, if I see you in my ER tomorrow, I’m gonna cuff you to your bed.” Maggie said, making everyone else around you laugh.

“Hey, if anyone’s cuffing y/n to the bed, it’s gonna be me.”

You blushed profusely at Hailey’s comment, the redness of your cheeks contrasting with your tanned skin.

“Kinky.” Jay commented before abruptly closing his mouth when Hailey stared at him.

“Now, how the hell did you manage to keep this a secret for a year?”

“Yeah, aren’t you supposed to be detectives?” Natalie joked, looking at Burgess, Atwater and Halstead.

“Guess we’re just great at keeping secrets. And it became kinda fun, I guess.” You shrugged, glancing up into Hailey’s eyes and she smiled at you.

“Yeah, it became like a game to us. To see how long we could keep it secret.”

“Probably could have kept it secret much longer if you hadn’t kissed me like that.” You chuckled, planting a soft kiss on Hailey’s lips when she playfully frowned.

“Says the one who got kidnapped.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault I got kidnapped again.”

“Again?!”

Everyone except Hailey stilled as they all stared at you.

“It’s a long story.” You stated.

It wasn’t that difficult to talk about now but it still left you uncomfortable and you wished you could will the words back into your mouth.

Sensing your discomfort, Hailey answered for you.

“A story for another day. Come on, let’s get you home.”

Nodding, you stood up and hugged your friends goodbye and then left the bar, your hand clutched tightly in Hailey’s.

“Are you okay?” She leant down slightly to kiss your cheek and then whispered in your ear.

Not wanting to lie but not able to find the right words either, you ended up shrugging instead. At that, Hailey brought your joined hands up to her lips where she gently placed a kiss on yours.

“I’m here for you, baby. Tonight and every other night.” Hailey said, alluding to the bad memories that would surely plague your sleep.

Since being with Hailey, the night terrors you’d once had about your past had become more infrequent.

Though, you were sure you wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight. The trauma of almost dying coupled with your previous abduction would ensure your lack of sleep.

But you would have Hailey next to you, so it wasn’t that much of a bother.

You may not feel safe in the world but you did feel safe in her arms and that was enough for you.

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dizzydancingdreamer · 3 years

Text

Steve Rogers, The Man On Fire

Hey y'all, as Pride month draws to a close I would like to post this fic. It's been in my drafts for a month and I finally today found the motivation to finish it. This is special to me for many reasons, one of which being that I'm proudly a part of this community. Some of the anger written in is my own. I think a lot of people will resonate with it. I really hope you all enjoy this and happy Pride Month <3

This was based loosely off a headcannon and once I re-find it I will credit!

Synopsis: Steve is freshly thawed, queer, and pissed | A.k.a. Steve's experience in 21st Century America

Characters: Steve Rogers, Mentions of Bucky Barnes, (loosely a Stucky fic but Steve thinks he's dead here)

Warnings: Angst but not bad, Steve Rogers being volatile and chaotic (we love), poorly written accents (I literally read this with an accent in my head), literally a 2k monologue

Word count: 5.1k

Steve Rogers came out of the ice angry.

No— not angry— Steve Rogers came out of the ice fuckin’ furious.

He came out of the ice with his hands curled into two fists, with his jaw clenched so hard his teeth were liable to snap, and with a bone to pick with every damn reporter and historian and too loud opinion on this side of the Brooklyn Bridge.

He came out simmering— no, erupting— like the serum in his blood couldn’t keep his body from hibernation all those years ago but it sure as hell won’t keep him from setting the entirety of New York on fire now. He’ll burn it all down if he has to and rebuild it the way he remembers it— the way Bucky would have remembered it— and at the end of it all no one— not the bigots or deniers or the homophobes that seem to be the only thing that came with him from the forties— will be able to say that Captain America can’t love whoever he wants.

No one will be able to say that Steve Rogers didn’t love James “Bucky” “the man I’ve loved since twelve years old” Barnes with everything he had and then some.

No one.

So he starts with the museums in Washington— because sure it isn’t New York but where else would a relic like himself belong more?

He still has hope when he enters the building. They didn’t make them like this when he was a kid— they had science fairs in the town hall and culture fairs in the backstreets near the docks but never anything this grand. No tall marble pillars or enough stairs to make him wonder if he would have been able to climb to the top when he was half the size he is now. It’s strange. It’s kind of wonderful. Yeah, the Smithsonian museums make Steve Rogers feel small for the first time in a very long time and that gives him hope.

That hope doesn’t last long, though, because soon he’s wandering through the halls, following the signs that say Captain America: The First Avenger— what the hell is an Avenger? Is that what they’re calling soldiers these days? Now he feels small and old.

Turning the corner is like landing on another planet, one devoted entirely to him. His picture is everywhere he looks, his name is in lights, even his damn uniform has been replicated and presented on a little stage and he hates it. The rage is back, sparking at his fingers— he’s a match and lucky for everyone this building is made of stone because if it wasn’t he’s sure it would be reduced to nothing but ash by now.

It only worsens as he begins reading through the plaques and the paragraphs flashing across screens on the walls— he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to that. The more he reads, though, the more he wonders if the stone is really, truly safe from the fire in his blood. He doesn’t think it is.

He surely isn’t at least— he feels like he’s going to explode. This isn’t him— none of this is him. War hero. Martyr. Golden boy. He has to stop reading that plaque— clearly no one did their research. Clearly no one dug up his medical files— or his police records. Brawls at the pub, disorderly conduct behind Mr. De Luca’s sandwich shop, public nudity at the beach that one time— thank you Bucky for the best night of his god damn life. Golden boy— ha.

Golden nobody with the black eye and broken hand is more like it.

For a moment he thinks he’s fine— he thinks it can’t get worse than this. Then he gets to the early life section and for an even longer moment his tongue tastes like gunpowder.

Steven Grant Rogers grew up in the streets of Brooklyn alongside his friend James Buchanan Barnes—

He can’t bring himself to finish the sentence— not when they already got the most important part wrong. Friend. Friend? No, no, no. No! There are a million words in the english language that Steve could use to describe Bucky and ‘friend’ will never be the first one.

How about best friend?

How about partner in crime?

How about soulmate who loved Steve so much that every night for the past forty-eight days since he woke up in an era that Bucky doesn’t exist in he’s cried himself to sleep with the same cherry cola taste of his ‘friend’ on his tongue.

It’s the final straw— Steve loses it.

“Anyone got a marker?”

The museum is quiet before he speaks but when his voice— steadily rising and taking on that New York headiness that his troops used to jazz him about— cuts through the exhibit— his fuckin’ exhibit— it’s silent. It’s dead, almost as dead as Buck— Nobody dares move a muscle as he rips his ball cap off his head and throws it at the statue of himself. Everyone knows who he is— everyone is going to know who he is so help him god.

“I said—” he tries again— “does anyone have a marker?”

It takes a moment for the people around him to pick their jaws up off the floor and he allows them that moment with a smug grin starting to tug on the corners of his lips. Finally— they’re starting to get it.

He’s not a hero; he’s a supernova of every scrawny, queer kid who’s ever gotten beaten to a pulp for kissing who they want.

Maybe then it’s fitting that the marker— when it’s finally produced and placed in his waiting palm— comes from a teenage girl with a shaved head and a blue, pink, and purple denim jacket and a busted lip. She doesn’t say much— only a mumbled here you go— but her eyes say everything that her words don’t. Give em’ hell, Cap. For the first time since waking up he flashes a genuine grin back— yeah, this one’s for you kid.

Steve wastes no time uncapping the sharpie— he’ll look that one up later— and scratching out the error. The blasphemy to his unholy name. It takes him a little longer to decide what to write in its place. There are a million words, sure, but somehow none of them feel right at this moment. None of them are enough. That’s something he’ll have to come to terms with later, though— how much nothing feels like enough anymore without Bucky.

Finally Steve settles on a word and he scribbles it as neatly as he can given the fact that he hasn’t had to write anything in eighty years. When he takes a step back, feeling alive for the first time since waking up, he beckons over the girl with the shaved head and points to the place where he’s taken it upon himself to correct history.

“Hey kid, why don’t you go ahead and read that outloud for everyone here.”

He allows another moment— this time because she deserves the time it takes for her eyes to light up and the smile to stretch across her bruised mouth.

Steve laughs— a rusted, croaky laugh; another first in forever— when her head whips around, facing him as she loudly proclaims: “It says boyfriend. Steve Rogers grew up in the streets of Brooklyn alongside his boyfriend Bucky Barnes!”

“Damn right I did—” he mutters to the kid before taking a step towards the crowd of gaping mouths. “Did you all hear that? Don’t worry if ya’ didn’t— I’ll say it one more time. Boyfriend. Bucky was my boyfriend and if he was here today he would be my husband. If any of you have a problem with that then feel free to take it up with me. I took on half of Brooklyn for that man and I’ll do it again.”

When no one says anything Steve nods, turning to hand the girl back her marker and to thank her— he may be angry but he hasn’t lost all his manners— but when he looks at her she doesn’t look back. Instead she takes the same step forward that he had, one of her hands balled into a tiny, shaking fist at her side and the other wrapped around a cell phone that’s pointed towards the crowd. He doesn’t understand the mechanics but he thinks she’s recording.

“You hear that?” She parrots the super soldier with a wavering but fierce voice. “Captain America likes men! And none of you can deny it!”

This time it’s his mouth that drops, watching as she shakily turns the camera off and spins back around. Before Steve can say anything, though, she’s talking again, this time hastier, and he can’t help but think that she sounds so much like him. All flushed and scrawny and pissed.

“I’m sorry, I’ll delete the recording if you want but, I jus’ know these bigots are gonna’ try and cover everything up and that would be a fuckin’ shame. I don’t know if you know how many kids need to hear this. I did— and I think they should too. Only if you want, of course.”

He doesn’t answer right away— he can’t. It’s like looking at himself at fifteen. Suddenly he’s back again, his feet hanging in the water as his boyfriend paces behind him, asking if he’s ready to have him look at his knuckles yet. He didn’t get that many good punches in— the scrapes are mostly from the pavement— but Buck always worries too much so it doesn’t matter. The protective idiot.

Steve shakes his head, blinking away the sunset lingering behind his eyes. “Bucky woulda’ loved you, kid.”

The next time he loses it— the next time he turns into more flame than man— is after he saves the city he’s been trying to burn down for three months.

It isn’t long after that day in the museum when Nick Fury decides it would be best for everyone if Steve goes back into the field. Of course, no one really asks him what he wants— they pretty much just shove a new suit into his hands and tell him to get training, Captain— but what else is new?

No one really comments on his outburst besides that either. Can you really call it an outburst when you’re just trying to reclaim the parts of you that have been stolen? Sure, the press gets a hold of the story and, true to what the kid had said, tries to twist it into something more digestible, but no one actually addresses it up with Steve. Apparently when someone saves the world as good as he does no one cares that they kiss men.

Or that they don’t wanna’ to actually save the world anymore.

See, in those three months— between the training and training and even more training that Steve Rogers begrudgingly obliges— he has time to catch up on the world. More importantly, he has time to catch up on what the world thinks of him. He scours a plethora of documentaries, scholarly essays, and whole books of information about his time as Captain America. Well— his time as Captain America when it mattered. In all his scouring he learns one thing: everything written about him is wrong.

It’s all so fuckin’ wrong.

Just why the hell would he want to save a world so bent on destroying who he is?

The Smithsonian exhibition was nothing compared to what’s been written in the eighty years he spent in the ice. Better yet, nothing compared to what hasn’t been written about him. They’ve taken an eraser to every part of his life that doesn’t fit with the golden image that they constructed for him. A.k.a. every part that matters. His relationship, his past, every little thing that made him supposedly perfect for the role he was given. Gone. Erskine told him he was a good man— apparently he was the only one who thought so.

Apparently being a good man isn’t good enough.

They only wanted the perfect soldier. Yeah, well, they had one and they fucked him over too. Don’t even get him started on what they did to Bucky— Steve doesn’t want to think about what Winnifred— Winnie for short— Barnes would do if she saw the history books erasing her baby’s Jewish roots. Or his relationship. It wouldn’t be pretty, that’s for damn sure. If ever there was someone more protective than Bucky it would have been his mother. Not that there’s a damn note about her in anything either though.

Maybe that’s the final straw that does him in this time— watching the place that Mrs. Barnes loved more than almost anything else in the world crumble, while also knowing that the world no longer gives a shit about the two people she loved more.

“Mr. Rogers, this is where you grew up, is it not? Is there anything you would like to say about what took place here in your home city today?”

Maybe he pretends not to hear the last part— maybe he really does only hear up until where the reporter asks him if there is anything he wants to say. He’s been around quite his fair share of explosions; it would make sense that his hearing is a little off. Maybe he just doesn’t care anymore, though.

Scratch that— he definitely doesn’t care anymore.

And why the fuck should he? He does have something to say and propriety be damned he’s going to say it.

Steve stares into the crowd of faceless reporters and flashing cameras with a scowl on his grimey face. Around him stand the other Avengers— his ‘team’. The last time he had a team the historians screwed up the history for every single member. Dugan, Morita, Falsworth, Jones, Dernier, Sawyer, Juniper, Pinkerton. Barnes. All of them were brave men with families and sacrifices and all of them were treated like jokes by ‘reporters’ just like the ones in front of him now. He really doubts there’s a difference between old and new journalism.

The only difference is that now he’s here and this time he’s not going to let them write anything but the damn truth.

“It is—” Steve muses, brushing the sweaty hair from his forehead— “I’m surprised you know that though.”

The reporter cocks his head, clearly confused, and it makes the super soldier’s blood boil. “Come again, sir?”

“I said I’m surprised you know where I was born, kid.” This time when he says the word— kid— it’s derogatory. “Ya’ know, considering how you all seem to know nothing about me otherwise.”

Steve almost smiles at the way the crowd tenses. He actually would if it weren’t for the white hot rage coursing through his veins, mingling with the last of the adrenaline leftover in his system. It gives him an extra kick— not that he needs it. Even when he was just a runt from the wrong side of the tracks he needed nothing more than an offhand comment to raise his fists. Fighting to Steve Rogers has always been intoxicating— the aftershocks of winning the battle just makes it more thrilling now.

Who knew, right?

“Sir I asked—” The reporter sputters and Steve simply holds a hand up, silencing him before he can start again.

“Yeah I know what you asked, alright. You want me to talk about the battle here in New York today and how I am more than happy to have risked my life to save it. But I can’t do that, kid. Because I didn’t save it for you. I didn’t save it for any of you.”

Steve feels his team tense— maybe were it any other time he would stop talking. He would just leave it, let the issue go, because Bucky would tell him too. They aren’t worth it, bruiser, he would say, they aren’t worth your blood. Maybe he would listen to his boyfriend because usually he was right. Bucky was always right. So yeah, maybe he would list—

Who is he kidding; he knows he wouldn’t.

Not then and certainly not now— not when Bucky isn’t here to defend himself against everything Steve has been reading about. That’s exactly why he doesn’t stop talking. Someone has to defend him and who better of a person than him? So, yeah, he keeps going, even when he hears footsteps behind him.

“You wanna’ know who I did save it for? James Barnes, that’s who I saved it for! You see, just around that corner there is a bookstore. Rickley Books. That was my boyfriend's favourite bookstore. You know, the man who gave his life to stop a train in Austria from reaching the enemies? Yeah that was him. That train was filled with supplies. Had it reached their headquarters, who knows if we’d be standing here today. If there would be a New York at all. Not that you would know that. But who cares about that dead sergeant from the 107th, right? There’s plenty just like him.”

Steve shrugs nonchalantly— a move he picked up from the very man he’s speaking about— but he spits his words at the reporters with enough venom to cancel out any peace that the action brings. That’s his own move.

He keeps going. “You know who else I saved it for? His mother. Yeah, his mother Winnie Barnes. Wonderful lady. She used to run a soup kitchen a couple blocks from here. Kept the rift raft like myself from going hungry most nights— I was a brawler, you know.”

A couple of reporters in the crowd laugh at that and Steve flinches, his vision tinting red as he cranes his neck, seeking them out.

“Oh you think that’s funny, do you? You think I’m joking? I’m not. You ever been backed into a corner, son? Had people hurl slurs at you that I can’t even repeat today? Ever been beaten up for loving your best friend? No, I bet you haven’t. You weren’t a queer kid in the thirties. That’s hard— that’s borderline impossible actually. I only made it because of people like Winnie Barnes. That woman was a saint but nobody talks about her either.”

Steve has to take a deep breath, clearing the rasp in his voice that rises as he dwells on the woman he called his second mother for so long. She wasn’t just a saint, she was an angel. He can’t cry here though, not now. Not even as his throat begins to tighten.

“Winnie was the type of lady who didn’t let anyone walk over the little people. She used to sit me down and say Stevie you gotta’ fight for what you want because ain’t nobody gonna’ give it to you. She told me that I shouldn’t have to but that there were going to be people who would try to tear me down just for being me. And she was right— just like her son— because that was the era, you know? But now, here in the twenty-first century, you’re all still trying to tear us down.”

A hand lands on his shoulder, small fingers tugging at where his suit has begun to tear. Natasha Romanoff. He meets her gaze quickly, neck craning to stare down the red head, and in the few seconds their eyes meet it’s like Bucky is next to him. Somehow the blue in her irises catches the falling sun just like his used to. Steve can hear the gruff of his voice in the depths of his mind. Back down, bruiser. The sentiment is echoed across Nat’s face.

Steve shakes her hand off him, turning back to the reporters— don’t they know that he can’t?

“You all say you care about me, huh? That I’m a hero? You know nothing about me— you don’t want to. Before I was a soldier I was a kid. A queer kid. I said that already but let me repeat it. Queer. Did you write that down? None of you certainly did before. That’s how I know that you don’t care— because in an age where being queer is infinitely more accepted you still don’t bother to write it down.”

He pauses for another breath, shutting his eyes against the blinking red lights of the cameras. They’re like little demons, always watching his every move. Recording. Everything’s always recorded these days. Will he ever be used to that? Bucky was the technology guy, not him. Not then and not now.

When Steve picks up again— eyes open and shoulders freshly straight— it’s on a new note— a clear note.

“You don’t care about me— you certainly don’t care about the real heroes of the war because if you did you wouldn’t erase our history. Do you know how much it would have meant to Bucky to see our relationship accepted? The man who died for you? How much it would’ve meant to his mother? You can’t just pick which of our stories and our sacrifices are worthy and which aren't.”

He hasn’t spoken this much since he’s woken up, not all at once at least. Maybe he should have, though— maybe if he had then he wouldn’t feel like ripping the heads off everyone in front of him right now. Call it fight or flight. Call it revenge. Hell, call it whatever you’d like because it doesn’t really matter. Either way he feels like a kid again— again— backed into a corner behind the deli with his fists up and his teeth bared.

He feels feral again.

“So now you just want me to save the world like I did— like Bucky did— all those years ago— or maybe jus’ New York— as if that’s any better— and you don’t even bother to write a proper article about me? Hell, I never even asked for an article, let alone a whole exhibit! I’m just a soldier— and before that I was just a kid. If there’s never another article written about me I’ll be grateful. But now that I’m here, standing in front of you, I’ll say this—”

Just as Steve’s voice is cresting into a shout that would no doubt be heard regardless of whether or not the microphones were in front of him, Natasha tries one more time, her fingers slipping between his.

Her voice is a dull buzz compared to his, only reaching his ears by sheer will. “C’mon Stevie— we gotta’ go now.”

Like before he’s stunned but this time instead of seeing Buck— instead of hearing him in his head— he hears Winnie.

You fought good, honey. You fought good for us. You can rest now.

It’s jarring and it’s not lost on him the handful of awkward seconds that it takes for him to respond. That’s just the effect Winnie had on people though— still has, apparently. Steve shakes his head— I know, mama. But I gotta’ finish this fight.

“No, Nat— I’ve got to say this.” Steve mumbles— voice just beginning to waver despite how hard he clenches his jaw— before sneering at the crowd one last time.

“If I ever read an article from any of you that discredits Bucky Barnes, our relationship, or myself just know that I’ll come for you. I’ll come for this city. Don’t you ever forget who I saved it for. James Barnes, Winnie Barnes, and every queer kid who’s ever felt erased because of people like you. The bigots in the forties couldn’t stop me. The Nazis couldn’t stop me. Not even the Atlantic Ocean could stop me. So don’t think for a second that any of you could either. Have a good day.”

With that Captain America turns, marching off the impromptu stage and beginning the trek back to his apartment. He doesn’t bother looking at his team as he passes them— he can imagine their stunned faces well enough on his own. No doubt he’ll be getting another assignment from Fury soon enough to make up for this ‘outburst’ too. Still, he feels a little bit better. There’s an ache in his shoulder, and one under his ribs too, but he still smiles as he passes Rickman and Sons Books. That must mean something good.

The last time Steve Rogers burns he doesn’t burn the way he’s expecting to— he doesn’t vandalize his own name or blow up at a reporter. No, the third time— the final time— that Steve Rogers burns it’s with nostalgia— and with a damn good cup of coffee in his hand.

“I had no idea this place was even here.” The girl across from Steve muses, tiny hands shifting the steaming cup back and forth.

Her name is Ellie, he learned that back at the museum after asking for a copy of the video she took. He barely knew how to use his phone back then, let alone his email— hell, both still confuse him more often than not— but she had been patient. A little awestruck and a little riled up too but he took it in stride— easily. It’s not hard being nice to the spitting image of him.

“I’m glad I’m good for something other than making the news.” Steve chuckles and this time he means it— there’s no malice or ill intent, only humor. “O’Malley’s ‘s been here longer than I have. Looked a little different then—” he takes a moment to let his eyes wander the old coffee shop and it’s new appliances— a moment to feel his age catch up to him— “but I guess I did too.”

Ellie’s laughter joins in there and it’s strange— strange that he hasn’t laughed with another person in seven, almost eight, months; strange that her laughs sound so much like Bucky’s when they were younger; strange that Bucky isn’t here to hear. Here to laugh, too. Because he would have.

He would have called Steve an old man, would have wrapped his arm around his shoulders, would have asked— no, demanded— that Ellie try the plum cobbler. They always made the best cobbler. Bucky always had the best laugh. All grit and breath and him. Steve feels warm just thinking about it.

“Well thanks for letting me in on the secret, I’ll make sure to guard it carefully.” She even has Bucky’s warm sarcasm.

Maybe it’s not so much like looking in a mirror as it is looking at what he wishes he and his boyfriend could have been back then.

“And thanks for letting me interview you—” Ellie continues, setting the cup down but not before nodding at it, her eyes wide— “wow. You weren’t kidding about the joe, huh? Anyway— thanks for scheduling this. I know you’re probably super busy— and that there are more well established people you could have gone to.”

Steve sets his own mug down too— if he hadn’t there’s a possibility it would be more puddle than porcelain. “Well established means nothin’, kid. Not when you don’t have heart. They’re parasites, all of ‘em. The press couldn’t care less about me.”

Ellie nods, lifting the lid of her laptop. It’s a little bit dented and slathered in stickers, not quite the newest model— he would know, he has the newest one and it’s still sitting in his apartment in the box. Yet another testament to how little the people around him truly know him.

“Welcome to the twenty-first century, can I get you a side of classism with that commercialism?”

Now she sounds like Winnie too.

“Say, has anyone ever told you that you’re funny?”

She shrugs, tilting her head, a lopsided grin glued to her face. “Once or twice— I never know if they mean it or if they just want me to shut up. I never do so I guess we’ll never know.”

Steve sputters out another laugh because; “I guess we’re the same then— never give them a moment, kid. That’s the best advice I can give you.” He pauses— again— he supposes it’s going to be a day of pausing— he supposes it’s about time he pauses— before adding, “Bucky would’ve scolded me for saying that.”

Ellie’s fingers, swift and deft over the machine— Steve hadn’t even seen her begin to type— pause too as her smile softens. “What would he have said instead?”

Her question shouldn’t catch off guard— this is why he asked her to meet him; to finally, properly write his story— their story. Still he pauses— Steve’s empty hands feel hot, his shoulders warm; bare— what would he have said? It doesn’t take long to hear his boyfriend’s voice, not there but somehow loud in his ear all the same.

Just relax— they aren’t worth it. It’s too nice out to care about anything but the water— are you coming in or not? Summer doesn’t last forever, you know?

It’s impossible but Steve can feel the sun on his back and on his ears again, like he’s there— like he’s back, sixteen and on fire. Those were the days where everything made him cold. The days where his skin burned no matter the season but especially in August which was when the ocean was warm enough to swim in. It never stopped him from joining Buck— nothing could have stopped him. His cheeks warm, too, at the thought.

Steve blinks, his own smile— perhaps a little lopsided in it’s own right— shaping over his mouth. “He would have told you to relax— and to try the plum cobbler. It’s fantastic.”

With another giggle— and a reiterated comment— has anyone ever told you you’re funny, Steve?— they fall into a conversation, just a kid and a relic, about life. It’s not an easy conversation— but then again those kinds never are. It’s real, though, and unedited. Unfiltered. Just the way Erskine and Winnie and Bucky would have liked it— the only way Steve wants it. It’s not perfect but, hell, Steve has never been perfect.

He’s never wanted to be.

Maybe Steve doesn’t know everything his boyfriend would say— and maybe he’d be lying if he said he doesn’t blow up once or twice after today— but he can confidently say that he gave Brooklyn a run for her money— twice— and lived to tell the tale. He can say then when it mattered, he burned. That he still burns. That he will until he doesn’t— until he’s extinguished.

But, hey, though Summer doesn’t last forever, not even the Atlantic could extinguish the flame that is Steve Rogers.

That’s what he writes— in Sharpie— on the card he writes to Ellie— the one attached to the computer he knows he’ll never use.

#Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #Stucky #steve x bucky #Queer!steve rogers #Queer!Steve #Queer!Bucky #Queer!Bucky Barnes #Captain America #pride month #Steve angst #steve fluff #Marvel cinematic universe #Mcu #mcu fic #steve fic

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weird-questions-from-an-infp-t · 3 years

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OC EDIT FINAL DRAFT

TORIKAE AWAREMI-

THE ULTIMATE/SHSL EMPATH

INTRODUCTION:

Information:

Previous high school: Omoiyari Academy

Height: 5'9

Weight: 118 lbs.

Chest: 31 in.

Blood type: A

D.O.B: May 21

Likes: Helping others, Solving puzzles, Gaming, Anime, Music

Dislikes: Assholes, Cannibals, Sharp objects, Darkness, Stress

Notes: Ultimate Empath

SHOULD I MAKE FANFICTION OF HIM?

More Details below

Expressions:

1. Happy/Normal around strangers

2. Happy/Normal around friends

3. Excited/ Amazed

4. Neutral/ Sarcastic

5. Sad/ Worried

6. Angered/serious

7. Confused

8. Questioning your sanity/ Done with your bullshit

Personality:

Empathetic (obviously), good judge of character( at least he thinks, a little unsure ), loyal to his friends till they give him a reason not to, willing to give everyone a chance and try to see the good in them, except if they show signs of being a major asshole (*cough* Byakuya *cough*) , creative and thinks outside the box, he even comes up with a possible way to escape hope's peak (unfortunately fails), refuses to give up on anything once he starts, as well as give up on someone. He also gets stressed out easily

Torikae's inventory:

Torikae keeps a few things in his bag

A tape recorder, a bag of marbles, a whistle, bandages, a lighter, a baton stick, and a notebook and erasable pen, as well as anything he would collect in an investigation.

And on his bag are pins from a certain video game (twewy).

Torikae's Class trial minigames:

Empath Filter

It seems things are a lot of emotions flying through the air. It sounds like the perfect opportunity to use Torikae's skills. By using his headphones he can create an Empath Filter that can determine where these emotions come from, and maybe find some new clues as well...

How the Empath Filter works is you're given a set of emojis, each emoji represents the emotion of someone participating in the class trial, in order to advance you must match each emoji with the correct person, match someone with the wrong emoji and you lose influence. To figure out who's emoji belongs to who you must use Torikae's noise cancelling headphones and the frequency meter. The screen will show a dial, this dial represents how much the headphones mute outside noise, this in turn will adjust the frequency meter, the frequency meter looks similar to the heartbeat gauge in Twilight syndrome murder case, each person has their own frequency meter, when the frequencies line up you'll get an exact read on that person's emotions, some people will have the same frequency. Once everyone is matched with the correct emoji you'll advance, as well as get a truth bullet.

Eventually you'll also get a skill that will automatically match half of the class with emojis.

Inventory Search

With all the stuff Torikae collected during the investigation it seems his bag has become cluttered. To find the evidence you need you must search through his inventory to find it, just make sure you don't grab the wrong thing.

This minigame takes the form of a crane game. Using the crane you must navigate through the bag to grab the right evidence needed , once you grab it you have to navigate back out of the bag in order to present it, but you only have a certain amount of time to do it, and if you hit the bottom of the bag or grab the wrong thing your influence decreases and you have to start over.

Brain Battle

Hmmm, with all the ideas and opinions of what happened Torikae has become stressed out, and it doesn't look like he can calm down anytime soon, at least not directly. To calm him down you must enter his mind to stop the stress and figure out the truth. But watch out, the mind is a dangerous place, so be careful.

Brain Battle is Torikae's version of the Logic Dive and Psyche Taxi. How Brain Battle works is that Torikae has to navigate through his mind to figure out what really happened, using an avatar with a blade you must charge through the mind while avoiding obstacles representing stress. Eventually you'll come across two or three choices, similar to Logic Dive and Psyche Taxi. Only this time it takes the form of warriors battling each other, when this happens time slows down. To continue you must defeat the wrong choices and team up with the correct choice to advance, but take to long to choose or fight the correct choice instead you'll get caught in the crossfire and lose influence. After gathering the correct choices together you must fight the boss warrior representing most of Torikae's stress with your allies, once defeated Torikae will calm down and the truth will be revealed.

Bonus ability ( for fanfiction)

Truth bullet fusion

During the stories Torikae will combine truth bullets with the other protagonists when information is shared between them.

Let me know what you think, and if you want to know more just let me know.

Tagging friends to hear their opinion:

@kile-the-phantom-thief @kile-loves-anime-women @scissorsandsydersyo @theblu3jester @lucian-is-mod-mahiru @p3achyheartz @rock-c @ibuki-loves-you @drabbleronpav3 @creativeghost51 @virgils-eyeshadow @despairing-sprout @mod-taka-and-friends @rinrinlovee @thedragonemperess @aw3s4mdud3s

#weird-questions-from-an-infp-t #infp #danganronpa #danganronpa oc #Torikae Awaremi #danganronpa trigger happy havoc #super danganronpa 2 #danganronpa goodbye despair #danganronpa v3 killing harmony #danganronpa v3 for mobile #tw capital letters

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just2bubbly · 3 years

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Cursed Souls

Masterlist

TLC Ship Week 2021!

*written for tlcshipweek2021- kaider for the prompt 'Cursed'

@kaiderforever

Summary:

"Thorne, Do you think I'm cursed?"

"What?"

"Uh- like do you think I'm cursed? that Cinder- s-she is-"

"Is suffering because of you?"

"You really love Cinder."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

...

Grief can make your mind think distressed thoughts, Kai with a haywire mind turns to Thorne for help- feeling overwhelmed just moments after the rebellion as he waits to hear news of Cinder.

A snippet of Kai alone with his thoughts as he waits outside the OT following the brutal injury of Cinder in Winter.

Ship: Kaider

Words: 2.5k

Genre: Angst, Hurt-Comfort

Prompt: 'Cursed'

*Sort-of canon-divergence.

Kai's Perspective:

Saying that he was anxious would be an understatement of his (let's assume long) lifetime. Everything around him was intense. After making sure that the Earthens were in a secure place, Kai followed by Torin had hastily returned to the Throne room. He could not focus on anything after Iko had told him that Cinder had gone to face Levana- alone.

Kai was praying to anyone who would listen- he prayed for Cinder's safety. Everything around him had been so rushed in the last few days- he had been high on adrenaline since the time he had helped Cress stick to the plan, coming back for crowning Levana as the Empress, to the sudden outburst of Lunars, the rebellion, him being captured and later escaping.

Kai was not sure how he remained on his own two feet walking through the pale halls of Artemisia Palace.

"Kaito, she shall be fine", Torin assured.

Kai was not going to buy it- how could Cinder be fine with a tyrant like Levana, who was likely trying to kill her?

He yelled at his own mind for letting Cinder go alone to confront Levana.

All of a sudden the sound of gunshots was heard, followed by a cry of pain making Kai look in horror at his advisor. He hoped it was anyone but Cinder. His heart was pumping loudly- at some inhuman speed and the rush of adrenaline forced him to walk faster than humanly possible. As the elegant and large doors of the throne room became visible, memories- horrors of incidents that would likely haunt him for the rest of his days flooded in Kai's mind.

Now was not the time to be sentimental- it was the time to be brave and help Cinder... if she was in a position to be helped.

The sight that was before his eyes stopped him in his tracks. Kai was dumbstruck at the sight of so much blood pooling in the throne room- the red a stark contrast to the pale marble floor and the real condition of the usually-disguised face of Levana- the face behind the glamour was enough to make him go stiff and be rooted to the spot.

However, Torin shook him out of his reverie to point out things- people. No, not just any people, his newly made friends.

He exhaled sharply when he saw Thorne, Scarlet and Wolf alive. He could not say the same when his eyes fell on Cress and Cinder. A sob escaped his shaking lips as Kai ordered Torin to call for doctors.

As he ran towards her with a thumping heart, he hoped he would not collapse at the sight of Cinder's misery.

A pool of dark red blood had surrounded her, her bosom had a knife- it did not take much to conclude that Levana had stabbed Cinder. His cheeks were damp with moisture as he huddled next to her- not sure what to do. Cinder coughed blood, her face gone pale because of the loss of so much blood. She could not cry but the worried lines along her forehead full with beads of sweat as she nibbled on her lower lip to think of anything but the wound- to avoid screaming with agony were enough to speak about her misery.

"Cinder," he cried through trembling lips.

"Kai, help Cress first. I won't-" she said through irregular words. Even in death, Cinder thought about saving others above herself.

"Shh, she is going to be fine. You're going to be fine." He said with questionable certainty. He had never known any person who had been stabbed to know how fine the after-effects were. Yet he refused to lose hope.

"Kai," she said smiling a bit sarcastically. As if both of them knew that they were lying to each other- to console, to convince.

"Don't speak I'm here- help is coming. Try to breathe. You're going to be fine." He said trying to assure him more than her.

"No- listen, Kai, look at me I might not have enough-" she hacked blood mid-sentence. Her stuttering words were cut short due to her current state. However, Kai very well knew what she was to say.

"All my ears to you, Cinder." He smiled at her, the same cheeky smile he had shown her at the garage, where they had met for the first time.

"Don't mourn for me Kai," she said. "-And I know I will not make it. My time as the revolutionary is over. I was not meant to be Queen or Princess. I trust you to do what you can for everyone," she muttered through ragged breaths, stopping from time to time to inhale sharply.

Kai would mourn for her death even if she prohibited it, even if it was forbidden. His throat ached as he tried to form sentences, probably not the last one she would hear.

"Cinder you are going to live through it. You will live long enough to rule yourself and do what you can for Luna." He said as his voice threatened to quiver, to cry out loud. He knew she was slipping away from him, as her glazed eyes rolled at the back of her head, eyes that would spontaneously shake looking at the ceiling. He would not lose her- hadn't he suffered enough grief to last a lifetime?

She closed her eyes and as calm resided over her features, Kai thought he had lost her. He could not hold it anymore, he cried not giving a damn- the Emperor of EC was crying for his beloved who was in his lap. Dying.

"No, Kai. I am a lowly mechanic. The Emperor should not cry for someone like me- Be h-happy Kai," she said with her eyes closed. It felt like she could bear to gaze into his eyes.

Kai begged for a miracle. How he wished that he would wake up and all this would just be a bad dream. He hoped that Cinder would live to see that she was never just a lowly mechanic. How she was always more than someone to him!

She cleared her mouth to say something instead a sharp breath was inhaled. Her lips now red with her own blood.

"You were the happy ending to my tragic life, Kai. I hope you remember that," She murmured.

He did not know if it was her or fragments of his own imagination speaking to him. He watched over as the others raised her and lay her across a stretcher. She was taken out to someplace where Kai followed blindly. They argued over something with Torin in the corner as he kept losing his mind- little by little.

He wanted to tell her, wanted to say them till she believed it.

"His ending without her would no longer be happy."

Still, he could not mutter any words as he choked on his own sobs. he was not brave enough to think that Cinder was dying inside. His haywire mind failing to register the happenings around him.

Torin appeared beside him and held him tight, unknowingly muttering soothing words- not knowing how to comfort the grieving Emperor. He stood outside white doors while Cinder lay inside, he cried his heart out on Torin's shoulder having had no clue if she was alive or not. He refused to listen to anything, he refused to talk- to ask about her state.

His mind played back the whole scenario over and over trying to make sense of his messed-up present.

Selene had been a mystery to him, she was a lost princess born out of his imagination, Torin used to describe it as a lost cause once. When he gave up on her, Cinder walked into his life. When the matter was revealed, he had hope. Selene and Cinder- just different names had been his hope for a long time, his ray of hope was struggling indoors. She was far away from him, from the world. He clutched on tightly to Torin trying to make sense of his falling apart life.

"T-Torin, is she a-a- okay?" he inquired.

"She will be."

"You think so?"

"Yes, Kai. She is a strong woman."

He remained silent for a long time- staring at the doors that would not allow him to enter. Trying to avoid thinking about the 'what-ifs'.

He did not move from his position for the entire day, keeping himself rooted to the seat before the door, with Torin beside him.

"You killed her, Kai. You are responsible for her fate... if not for you she would have never been drawn into this mess-"

"-She would not be dying right now"

"How selfish of you to use her for your own gain!?"

"She was just a poor girl aching to be loved- and look what you did!"

"You cursed her"

"'She is dead because of YOU"

He opened his eyes- panting for breath. All the voices sounded like Levana... she was dead right? He had never bothered to check if she was alive or dead, as he was in the haste due to Cinder's state- could she have survived?

Realizing he was just hyperventilating, it was a nightmare- nothing about it should trouble Kai into thinking that the tyrannical Queen was alive. He might have dozed off, sitting in the medical chamber of the palace, he thought trying to make his mind stray away from the loud thoughts of his mind.

'Was he cursed?'

Kai did not have many people in his life that he would have claimed to love, but the ones he did were either dead or dying.

'He had loved his parents, hadn't he? And where were they now?', He thought bitterly.

They hadn't even be buried like royals ought to, their goods burnt down to prevent the spreading of the disease to Kai or others. Their bodies were cremated in an incinerator as a precaution. Kai could not even be near them, being asked to see the whole ordeal from far away for his own safety. He had lost both of them to Leutomosis.

He loved Cinder and there she was a few metres away from him, perhaps already gone on another journey beyond life.

Maybe he was a cursed person, otherwise, why would all his loved ones die? Was he not capable of love? Could he not love anyone without having to lose them? And the ones he loved would all wither and die, while he watched them from far away?

Or was she the cursed one?

The girl who could not be loved, the one who would have a near-death experience, every time someone tried loving her. Cinder and Kai- were they two cursed souls?

Didn't she say, 'You were the happy ending to my tragic life.' and hadn't he thought, 'His ending without her would no longer be happy'?

Did she think he was responsible for her tragic life- her death? Hadn't she been an outcast for a major part of her life thanks to Kai, who failed to realize the sorrow of the cyborgs living in his own nation?

Were they just going to be each other's broken, sorrowful endings?

Not able to cope with his overwhelming thoughts, he looked around for Torin, only to find him nowhere.

He gawked at Thorne, who sat adjoining him and asked, "Thorne, Do you think I'm cursed?"

Thorne was confused, to say the least, maybe he was being too vague so he briefed, "Uh- like do you think I'm cursed? that Cinder- s-she is-"

"Is suffering because of you?" he provided, as Kai failed to continue. He nodded slightly, confirming that he was thinking the same thing.

Much to his surprise, Thorne smiled, not the flirty smile that usually did but a genuine smiled that reached his eyes and said, "You really love Cinder."

Taken aback by his remark he asked, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You are so alike, I can only imagine if the roles were reversed she would be here thinking the same thing."

"You think so?"

"I know so"

"What makes you so confident?"

"You had no idea how tensed Cinder was when you decided to marry Levana to prevent the wolf-hybrid soldiers from doing more damage. She never said it but she thought that she was responsible for all the mess created in your life."

"Okay," he replied, not knowing what else to say.

"Kai, what makes you think you are cursed anyways?"

"It's just- you know, all the people that I have cared about are dead and I do care about Cinder and she is inside fighting to stay alive- I just think I'm cursed, not capable of loving people," he explained.

Kai, would not admit it but saying it aloud made it seem foolish. Thorne would likely laugh at him for feeling he was 'cursed'- like was he even thinking through before popping the question to Thorne.

"Really Kai, sometimes I wonder the future of your country if you happen to be sentimental- how did we get two so feeble-minded monarchs to look after us?!" He asked, dramatically- can always rely on Thorne to disguise his sorrow with charm.

Kai rolled his eyes thinking to himself, 'why did he bother in the first place?' and looked away.

A sigh escaped him and he stated, "You are not cursed, Kai."

Now Thorne did have his attention, it might have been the first sincere thing he said after Cress was taken in OT. Kai realized how he was not the only one waiting for some news outside the medical chamber, not the only one who was afraid.

"You care about your advisor, umm what's his name?"

"Torin," Kai provided.

"Yeah Torin- you care about him, probably look up to him as well and he is neither dead nor trying hard to stay alive. You care about your people and I don't think all of them are dead right now, now are they?"

"No, they are not," he said even though it was a rhetorical question.

"I'm just afraid," he admitted after a long time to which Thorne honestly replied, "Me as well."

He looked at Thorne, trying to understand his grief- if Cress did not make it, Thorne would not be able to live with the guilt- knowing very well that he was responsible for her loss, that if not for him stabbing her in the stomach she would be alive.

"They would make it, right?" he asked, terrified of what Thorne would say.

He did not reply just pressed his lips in a thin line and looked before him. None of them was capable enough to answer it. So, Kai looked ahead as well and prayed because that's what all he could do. Pray.

"Kai stop thinking about bullshit things like being cursed."

Kai nodded, pointing out that he was listening and likely not going to think about how he might be cursed.

He thought before saying it aloud, rolling the words over and over before finally saying them.

"You are really a nice guy, Thorne. No wonder Cress really likes you."

A/N: I had promised I had come up with angst, and see here I am- keeping my promise to you guys.

I know I have knocked a lot of medical facts, I know she should be unconscious within seconds but I just choose to overlook it for my plot. I wanted some deep farewell/ goodbye shit before Cinder becomes unconscious (builds up the angst you know).

I wanted to this idea for a long time now, Cinder's almost-death through Kai's POV. This fic was likely going to have a different ending than one the it has now- I was just going to live the ending in grey area but I had to change it to keep up with the prompt 'Cursed' for ship week. Don't blame me writing angst, I am just writing ship week prompts- and apparently all of them happen to be angst!

Tell me what's on your mind after reading it!

Votes and comments are always appreciated.

Thanks for reading!

Taglist: @cinderswrench @gingerale2017 @linhcinder686 @shellyseashell @ladyvesuvia @shelbylmkaider @levanariddlebackup @cindersassasin @kaider-is-my-otp (Tell me if you wanna be added/removed)

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randomfandomimagine · 3 years

Text

Love’s Worth Running To. Chapter 5: Hero Work

Pairing: Barry Allen x Stephanie Williams (OFC)

Fandom: Justice League / DCEU

⬅ PREVIOUS CHAPTER • CHAPTER INDEX • NEXT CHAPTER ➡

AO3

A/N: Another chapter! I think this one as very interesting stuff, and it’s finally starting to move on to my favorite part of the story, I can’t wait to post the few next chapters!

Also, and as always, remember to give this some love! Please reblog and leave feedback if you’re liking it, it would help me out a lot and it’d mean the world to me!! 🙏 Thank you so much to everyone that’s supporting this series 🥰💜

With the excuse that she needs to face it sooner or later, Stephanie starts trying out her powers. She promises herself that it means nothing, only a way to ensure they won’t become something dangerous because she can’t control them. It doesn’t mean she will recklessly go out trying to be Wonder Woman. But the improvised hero outfit still lays on the ground. She hasn’t put it away. Keeps glancing at it.

Meanwhile, as her eyes are fixed on the costume, a light crackle of electricity hovers over her palm. Stephanie sighs and focuses her attention on it, watching how the small force field slowly grows. The semi-transparent sphere, at first as small as marble, has reached the size of a football ball now.

Stephanie tells herself that big progress has been made, as at least she is now in control of it even if the force field isn’t big enough to really protect anyone. Its surface is also irregular and unstable. She grits her teeth, frowning in confusion, but the very best she can do is maintain the current state of the force field.

“Ah!” Stephanie suddenly yelps when her phone buzzes. The force field in her hand crackles, creating a mild disturbance in the air, before completely fading.

Promising to keep working on her newfound abilities after checking her phone, she picks the device up and looks at the screen. Her heart halts in anticipation as she reads the text. It’s from Ben.

While it isn’t the person she was expecting, it still warms her heart that Ben is reaching out and checking on her. For that reason, she proceeds to read the message and a small smile finds its way to her lips when she does.

Good morning, Stephanie! How are you feeling? I hope you’re well and recovered. There is no rush to return to work, but I must insist that you rest and properly look after yourself. I’m your boss, so you have to do as I say.

Best regards, Ben.

Stephanie chuckles, endeared by his thoughtful message and amused by the fact that he signed it like he would a written letter... despite the fact that the phone already showcases the sender. Grinning, she starts typing to reply to him.

You may be the man in charge for the project, but shall I remind you that you’re not my boss?

Best regards, Stephanie.

However, and despite the lighthearted interaction, a void settles in her chest.

For a moment, Stephanie had hoped it was Barry contacting her, only to remember that she had been ignoring his many calls and messages. He has probably given up on talking to her, figuring she will do so when she feels comfortable with it. And she misses him. For that reason, she dials his number while Ben types back.

Barry takes a few rings to answer, but when he does his warm and familiar voice is filled with excitement. It makes Stephanie smile as soon as she hears it.

“Steph?!” He answers. “Oh my gosh, hi! How are you feeling?”

“Hi, Barry” The girl can’t stop smiling now, while at the same time wondering how she had survived so many days without him. “I’m feeling better, thank you”

“That’s great, I’m so glad to hear it!” He sighed from the other end, as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “Um… did you need anything? Or did you just call to chat?”

“Well…” Stephanie awkwardly chuckles, feeling embarrassed for isolating herself. But now that she has her powers mostly under control after that long week, she feels like she can talk to him again. “Actually, I wanted to apologize… I know I’ve been very distant, but…”

“Hey, no” He gently interrupts her. “Steph, you don’t have to apologize, don’t say a word. I understand that you needed some time, anyone would after what you went through!”

Stephanie pauses for a moment while the nerves suddenly stir in her stomach. In the end, noticing his silence as well, she pipes up once more.

“I’m sorry for worrying you, Barry”

“I’m always gonna worry about you”

She smiles to herself, knowing that he means that in the best way possible. The nerves disappear, replaced with a wave of warmth that fills her. Suddenly, all those negative emotions she has been experiencing for days are gone. All thanks to his magic.

“Listen, I’m in a hurry. I’m so sorry, I really can’t talk more” Barry mumbles. “But, uh... how ‘bout we meet this evening? I’ll take it easy on you, I promise, I just want to hang out with you for a bit”

“Sure” Stephanie chuckles. “I’d love that”

“Cool!” She hears him happily chuckle as well. “Pick you up at 7?”

“Yeah, see you later” And Stephanie hangs up, unable to erase the smile from her face.

When Barry arrives to the place of reunion, he heaves a big sigh. The sky suddenly looks bluer, the birds are singing louder and the sun shines brighter. Everything is okay.

“There you are” Clark pats his shoulder, warning him of the team’s presence. They had been waiting for him. “How can a speedster like you be late?”

“Right, sorry about that” Barry grins instead of taking his words as a scolding.

“You look happy…” Diana tells Barry, kindly nudging him a little.

“Yeah, well” The boy suddenly feels slightly flustered by everyone’s gazes on him. “I talked to Steph”

“Your friend?” Bruce pipes up, the hint of a smile peeking in the corner of his lips. “We told you she just needed some time”

“She doing okay?” Arthur asked, frowning slightly in concern.

“Yeah, she’s fine… she’s fine” Barry sighs like that again, feeling lighter. “Phew, it was such a relief”

“Sorry to burst your bubble, Barry” Victor gravely tells him. “But we have work to do”

“You’re right, I know” The boy nods to himself. “I’m ready, let’s go”

The silence settles for a moment. Overlooking the city from their high spot at the top of the skyscraper, the six pensively observe the atmosphere beneath their feet. There is the usual busy sound of traffic, of the crowd’s murmuring and the occasional ambulance or police cars sirens in the distance. Other than that, there are no signs of an imminent threat.

“What are we doing here again?” Arthur pipes up. “Everything seems calm”

“Too calm” Bruce grimly replies, glancing at the rest. “I know something’s wrong”

“I can feel it too” Victor adds. “The electric devices feel erratic, like a virus is slowly poisoning the city”

“What we can do about it?” Diana stares at the cyborg, whose eyes are fixed on the city underneath.

“Can you do something to stop that virus?” Barry suggests to him. “Get into their systems or something?”

“I can’t” Victor gravely says, locking eyes with the speedster. “That’s how I know something’s wrong”

“I can feel it too” Clark admits. There are no traces of his usual smile. “Maybe it’s just an intuition, but-”

Before he can even finish his sentence, a loud ruckus startles them all. Something has changed right under their field of vision. An automated train, moving on its own and filled with thousands of innocent passengers, is violently wavering and making the people inside it scream and panic. It moves at a vertiginous speed. More strange noises ensure that the train isn’t the only electronic device malfunctioning there.

“You wouldn’t be doing that, by any chance?” Barry asks Victor, who slowly shakes his head.

As on cue, everyone moves at his denial. The six seem synchronized as they throw themselves down the rooftop. Diana uses her lasso to soar through the air, Bruce glides with his cape and Barry speeds leaving behind a faint blue tail. Clark flies, followed by Victor with his propellers, and Arthur throws his trident and rides it like a surf board.

In the blink of an eye, the six have landed on top of the train. More panicked screams fill the interior with the loud thud of their landing. They struggle to maintain balance in the speeding train. Moving quickly, Clark tears the metallic top of the train open and so everyone drops to the inside.

“Please stay calm” He kindly says to the terrorized passengers.

“We’re here to help” Bruce assures them with his deep voice.

“We’re saved!” A blond woman exclaims. “It’s Superman!”

“And Wonder Woman!”

“And The Batman!”

Although a warm welcome, the Justice League focuses on the mission ahead: saving those people. They exchange quick glances between them and get to work. There is no time to lose.

“Barry” Bruce lowly tells him. “Get rid of all the electronic devices as soon as possible”

“Before they overheat and explode” Victor urges him, his red eye seeming to recognize the extent of the danger they present. “They’re malfunctioning just like the train”

“Copy that!” And with that, the speedster is gone in the blink of an eye. With shocked gasps, the people find that their phones, tablets and any other electronic devices are taken from them. Some explode as soon as they’re thrown out the window, causing an even further outrage.

“I’ll try to stop the train” Victor closes his eyes, focusing his mind on the electric system.

“I’ll do that too” Clark nods, helping the cyborg by flying to the front of the vehicle. As soon as he disappears, the train produces a strident creaking as it drags along the rails. Carefully. Very slowly, it starts losing speed. He can’t risk harming the people inside with a violent halt.

“We’ll get the people safely off” Diana taps Bruce, who doesn’t lose one second to go with her.

“And I’ll help you out” Arthur throws his trident to the doors, breaking through them to allow them an exit.

Soon after, Barry has returned and instantly goes with Diana, Bruce and Arthur to help them move the passengers out of the speeding train. Clark seems to continue his part of the rescue, because it loses speed by the second. Slow and safely.

While Arthur breaks open all the doors he can to create more exits, the rest gets ahold of as many people as possible. The train hasn’t quite stopped yet. Bruce carries three grown men, using his grappling hook to swing to safety. Diana has picked up a group of four children while Barry puts their parents to safety. Perhaps they can’t quite understand and solve what is happening in the city yet, but in the meantime they can always protect the people.

Seven o’clock can’t come soon enough. Time passes slowly, and Stephanie’s eyes keep landing on the discarded outfit on the ground. She bites her lip. Knowing she is meeting Barry later seems to fill her with courage. Hope. Maybe she can be like their heroes, like Wonder Woman and Superman. At the very least, she can try.

“Maybe I’ll just try it on…” She mumbles, trying to get rid of her impatient energy, and as though they outfit would have changed sizes during those few days she hasn’t touched it.

Telling herself that it’s only a way to stay distracted and busy while she waits for Barry to arrive, although that isn’t for two more hours, Stephanie gets changed. The tight leggings slip on easily, like a second skin, like they’re the right thing to wear. After she puts on the tank top as well, she stands before the mirror once more. The same sense of excitement and wonder settle in her stomach, taking the form of butterflies that take flight inside it.

The look is almost complete. Just when she is applying the eye shadow like the other day, a sound interrupts her. Several police cars pass by her apartment at top speed, illuminating the streets with their blue light. A test. A call to adventure. Will she answer?

“I can do it” She whispers to herself. “I want to help, I can do it”

Anxious as the police cars wail in the distance, Stephanie nods in resolution. After such a long time of inactivity, her muscles complain at the sudden energy bursts. Ignoring the light aching of her body, Stephanie runs. She leaves her apartment, leaves behind her building and runs in the direction the police cars took. After days if inactivity, she feels alive again. Her lungs urgently fill with air, her heart begins beating so fast that it throbs in her ears.

Stephanie doesn’t stop running, chasing the call to heroism and smiling widely.

She gasps for air as she watches the scene before her in confusion. The streets are total chaos. Even the few policemen that have stayed seem to have lost their minds. All the people, from ordinary bystanders, to service workers that have left their establishments, are running aimlessly and screaming in a panic.

“HEEEELP!!! He will kill us all!!” A shrieking voice gathers her attention upwards. A man is teetering at the very edge of a ledge, at the top of a building. He seems about to jump. Stephanie can’t get there in time to save him. Where is the Justice League when you need it?!

Trying to make herself audible among the shouting of the panicked people around her, she focuses on the man whose life is in immediate danger.

“Stay where you are!” She shouts at him, but he only dedicates her an absent glance.

Stephanie frantically looks around, searching for something that can help her. Nothing of use is in sight. What can she do? An idea suddenly pops up in her brain. Wiggling her fingers, she tries to create a force field around herself. If it’s stable enough, maybe it can lift her off the ground and transport her to him.

But it’s all for naught. It’s too late. Her heart skips a beat.

The man has walked off the ledge.

“NO!” Stephanie screams, so violently that she hurts her throat.

On an instinct, she reaches out in his direction despite the big distance that separates them. Her head fills with uneasy thoughts, all of which are focused on helping him. Saving him! Her first attempt can’t end like that, she needs to do something!

Just as the man is about to step into the air and commence a free fall of several stories high, a bubble creates around him. The man gasps, suspended in the air by a wavering force field.

Realizing it is her doing, Stephanie clenches her jaw and focuses all her might on it. Although it quakes with her effort, the bubble carefully glides downwards until it touches the pavement. As soon as it does, the man looks around in a daze and begins to walk away.

Stephanie finds that such small deed was too great for her. All her energies abandon her and she suddenly falls to the ground. She sits there helplessly. Her heart has recovered that unforgiving pace and she breathes heavily again, even worse than after her dash.

In a daze, feeling how her brain slowly fills with fog, Stephanie watches the scene. Two men are fighting close to her, shouting as they’re convinced the other is a threat. A woman and her baby run aimlessly, wailing as each make more noise than the previous. All around her reigns absolute chaos. Panic. Terror. The reason? She doesn’t know. She doesn’t understand.

A man runs for his life, anxiously looking over his shoulder as though something or someone is chasing him. Stephanie can’t see anything behind the man. Just as he passes her by, she weakly holds on to the leg of his pants.

“Sir, sir!!” She calls out, trying to get through to him. Fighting his panic, he nervously turns to her. “What is happening?!”

“T-The scarecrow!” The man gulps. “We’re all going to die!”

And with that her breaks free from her grasp with one simple jerking motion and continues on his escape from an invisible foe.

Stephanie frowns under her eye mask. There are no signs of any scarecrow, and even if it was… what would a scarecrow be doing in a city? Why would an inanimate object be a threat? These people seem to be frightened of an imaginary foe. The only thing different aside from the panicked people is a strange ambiance. Although slightly similar to the way her force fields change the air, this once it feels heavy. There is a mild odor of something burning, like popcorn that has been on the microwave for too long.

But… there is no fire. Stephanie suddenly gets an urge to leave. She makes to stand up, but she remains too weak to move. Anguish overcomes her. Something is happening in that place, something that she cannot comprehend but that is starting to take over her too.

She doesn’t know what, but something is wrong. Something is about to happen. Something bad. Something terrible. She can’t stop thinking about it. A feeling of dread overpowers any other rational thoughts. Now Stephanie understands how all those people feel. Panicked She does too.

Her eyes frantically travel all around her, expecting hidden enemies in every corner. Her powers are useless, even if she could use them. She can’t protect herself, or anyone else.

Static-like void fills her brain, causing her to push her hands against her ears when it feels like her head is about to explode. Her temples throb. Her heart thumps. Her breathing quickens.

Just as she feels herself about to completely lose control, a figure appears in front of her as though it has fallen from the heavens. Stephanie yelps and whimpers, shielding her face with her hands and leaning backwards to get away.

“Hey” A deep dark voice approaches her. “You okay?”

Stephanie dares to peek through her fingers, only becoming more frightened when she actually sees the person… the… creature? It looks like a man, but her panicked mind can only see an enormous bat standing on two legs with its wings wide open.

“Ah!” She screams, so the figure folds the wings and cautiously approaches her. She still doesn’t trust him. “Please don’t hurt me!”

He can hurt her. He will. Anyone can. Anyone will.

“I’m not going to hurt you” He slowly crouches down to be at eye level with her. She can see his worried brown eyes through the mask that covers his features. “Look at me”

“You’re… you’re…” The world seems to spin around her, and Stephanie is out of breath. “You’re The Batman”

“That’s right, I’m here to help” He reminds her, offering her his hand. “What’s going on?”

Stephanie gulps as he pulls her to her feet. It comes to her attention that he looks her up and down, reminding her of the outfit she’s wearing. A hero… she failed. The reason why she went there on the first place was because she wanted to help those people, but… reality becomes a little more stable as she realizes… not even the police stuck around.

“Can you hear me?” The Batman tries again. “What is happening?”

“I don’t know… I don’t know” All her thoughts are scrambled, too fast to stop as they slip through her lips. “Something… is wrong… I can’t explain it...”

A sudden urge to cry causes her to stare at him, begging for help. Maybe he knows what strange occurrence takes place in that street, or how to stop it, or how to end it. He doesn’t seem to, but his eyes are filled with compassion.

“I assume you wanted to help, but you can go” He tells her, supporting her as she feels herself swaying. “Don’t worry, everything will be alright”

Stephanie slowly nods, taking a deep breath and making an effort to fight through that strange trance of terror. No one has attacked her yet, despite her irrational conviction that they would.

“Go, get to safety” The Batman insists, gently letting go of her. “I’ll take care of this”

She opens her mouth. To warn him. He doesn’t know. Since he has just arrived, he has no idea what he will soon experience. But Stephanie can’t speak up. She barely has the strength to stand.

Stumbling and in a daze, she takes a step. She needs to get away from there, breathe a different air. Clean air, not contaminated with whatever is hurting her so. For that reason, she takes another step. And then another. Little by little, she gets away from there. The safety of her home has never felt so distant.

When she wakes up, Stephanie can barely remember how she clumsily plopped on the bed and fell asleep. She had nightmares that are impossible to remember. The fact that she is still wearing her hero outfit is proof that it really happened. She still feels feverish and exhausted from her attempt. Something out of the ordinary was happening there. She can only hope The Batman helped those people, and that he himself was safe after all of that.

Remembering she is supposed to meet Barry when he texts her a quick ‘omw’ that lets her know he will arrive soon, Stephanie gets up. She gets changed and stumbles through her own house as though the ground is shaking under her feet.

Her mind seems to clear up as the minutes pass. When she is done getting ready, she goes to the door where she is supposed to meet Barry. He isn’t there yet. At least, her thoughts feel more coherent and ordered now.

Even after that strange effect has passed, adark feeling stays with Stephanie, like a black cloud that stays with her. At first she assumed it was the rare burst of adrenaline traveling through her veins. Now she’s not so sure. Her heart hasn’t stopped beating erratically ever since then, and although there is no more danger she feels on edge. Frightened. She wonders if she really wasn’t as brave as she though she was, or that she abused her still recovering body too much, or if the experience was too harrowing to easily leave behind. Whatever the case, a sudden presence forces her away from those thoughts.

“Hi!” Barry jumps into place in front of her, bearing a wide grin that seems to brighten up the subtle darkness that has clouded her heart. “I’m here”

“You’re late again” The girl only says, even if she’s already smiling. Barry’s feeling has a healing effect that cures her lingering restlessness.

“I know, I’m so sorry” He dramatically sighs, although he does look a little tired. “Busy day”

“What did you do today?” Stephanie asks, trying to start a conversation while at the same time distract herself from her unease.

“Uh….. you know...” Barry shrugs. “Run around, do some errands, save the world…”

Stephanie laughs out loud at his joke, and he grins widely in return. However, the gesture vanishes from his face immediately after. He is staring at her with his brow knitted in concern.

“Steph, you look pale…” He whispers, rubbing her arm. “You okay?”

“Y-Yeah” She chuckles, internally panicking at the mere thought of him finding out about her powers and her little adventure. “I just… went for a walk to kill time… Guess I’m a little tired”

Barry pauses. She can almost see the wheels turning in his head. He is about to tell her that she should rest and take it easy, but he doesn’t. Instead, he dedicates her his best encouraging smile.

“I’m gonna spoil you today” His hand lingers on her arm. “You’re still recovering and you deserve to be spoiled”

“So it was a trap” Stephanie smirks, playfully rolling her eyes at him. “I should have known”

“There’s no escaping now” Barry offers her his arm, which she links with his. He then playfully arches his eyebrows. “Shall we?”

The pair smile at each other as they begin to walk. Barry immediately goes on about what they can do. They can get some snacks and take a little walk. Since she’s been locked inside for so long he wants her to get some air, but he’s stern on letting her rest, so maybe they should sit at a terrace. She doesn’t care what the plan is, she’s just happy to be with him. His presence is reassuring, silently reminding Stephanie that there is nothing to fear.

It has returned. That feeling of dread, of imminent danger. It isn’t nearly as strong as before, it merely feels like a shadow of its former self. Nonetheless, it is barely enough to make even breathing exhausting. Stephanie can’t focus.

Night is slowly falling as the sky turns a slightly darker shade of blue. It has orange and purple tinges as the last traces of the sunset erase from the horizon. The early night breeze envelops them, gentle like a caress.

Barry has been talking almost all evening, but Stephanie is no longer answering him. She is absently playing with the paper that the hot dogs they ate came in.

“What do you say?” Barry is saying then, but she’s not listening. “Steph?”

Stephanie is so out of it that she can’t answer. She grits her teeth, trying not to wince, when her temples begin throbbing. Her entire body is giving her signals. All she wants to do is rest. Sleep. Sleep for a really long time.

“Steph” He sternly calls her, taking her free hand when she feebly leans on him. “W-What’s wrong?”

“Nothing…” She gulps, avoiding his gaze as she lowers her head in the hopes that the stillness can level her dizziness. “Just got a bit light-headed”

“You sure you’re okay?” When she doesn’t answer, he continues. His voice carries a hint of panic. “You’re still recovering, maybe you should have stayed-”

“I’m okay” She rushes to say, trying her best to smile at him. “Just a bit tired”

“Steph, you almost died not that long ago” Barry gravely says, subtly sinking his fingers into her arm. “And you don’t look so good”

“Barry” She begins to say, tiredly tilting her head as she peers at him. Her vision blurs, but she tries to fight through her unwell. “I’m just… a bit weak…”

He doesn’t reply, only furrowing his brow and feeling a pang of concern in his chest. He had been scared enough to find her after the accident, it only makes it worse to see her in that state still. He doesn’t think he could take the idea of her not being alright.

“And…” Stephanie gulps, wobbling slightly. “V-Very dizzy…”

Barry wraps an arm around her. His heart is racing in unease. Just as he supports her, Stephanie falters. The breath hitches in his throat as he tightens his hold on her and presses her against his side.

“Steph?!” His voice breaks as the concern completely takes over him.

For a few seconds she doesn’t reply, only limply lying against him. Memories of finding her after the accident return to Barry, and he grimaces at the mental image. Luckily, she reacts in time to pull him out of those dark thoughts.

“I’m… okay…” She tells him in a daze, voice weak.

Still firmly holding on to her, he presses his free hand against her forehead. Stephanie’s skin feels warm, confirming his suspicions that she was still sick.

“I’m taking you home” Barry states. “No buts, you need to rest”

Stephanie babbles, opening and closing her mouth. If only he knew the true reason behind her state. But he can never know. In any case, she doesn’t feel lucid enough to speak. The mere idea that she has a secret identity feels far too surreal at the moment, even to herself.

“Can you walk?” Barry tenderly moves the hair away from her face, trying to take a good look at her. She only shakes her head, frowning as she tiredly puts her head on his shoulder. “Okay, up you go”

Straining a little, he grunts as he sweeps her off the floor and into his arms. Stephanie suddenly feels incredibly safe and comfortable in his embrace, and the deep unwell lessen slightly.

“You’re strong…” She chuckles, and she briefly wonders why she’s tilted to the side even though her head is still resting against his shoulder.

“See? You’re clearly delirious” They peer at each other for a moment.

The slight motion of picking her head off his shoulder sends a wave of vertigo through her. She whimpers, closing her eyes tight and gingerly resting her head on his shoulder again. Then, a sudden change of position startles her. When she opens her eyes, they are already at her place. Baffled, she feebly glances around. A moment ago they were… and now… she must be really delirious...

“We’re here” Barry carries her inside. “Do I need to take you to the hospital?”

“No, I just…” She starts to say, but her voice then becomes urgent. “Put me down”

Confused, Barry does as she says. When she is on her feet again, Stephanie presses her hands over her mouth. The wave of nausea soon passes, much to her relief. However, everything else does too.

Barry exclaims as he throw himself forward to catch her. Stephanie drops down, falling limply to the ground. His arms break her fall and he nervously scoops her into them again.

“Oh my gosh…” He mumbles as he rushes her to the bed. “Oh my gosh, oh my gosh…”

He shakily sighs to himself as he carefully lies her down. The girl’s arms stay locked around his neck even when he lets go of her. Barry stops to intently watch her. She now looks peaceful, as though she badly needed that rest. She’s resting, he tells himself. Yeah, just resting. Her chest softly moves up and down with her calm breathing.

“She’s okay” Barry assures himself, although he begins pacing up and down her room.

Thousands of terrible thoughts battle in his brain. She’s sick again. She hasn’t recovered. She’s dying. The accident was too much for her, she will never fully recover.

“Okay, calm down, Barry” He takes a deep breath, even if he still paces. “She’s fine, she’s gonna be alright”

He tells himself that all those thoughts are lies. They are just fears, not reality. Interrupting himself, Barry stops and looks at her again. Stephanie lies motionlessly in the bed. She is still pale, but she doesn’t look terribly sick. He sighs and resumes his pacing.

“She’s not as bad as she was in the hospital” Barry whispers, trying not to wake her. “She looked much worse then. Besides, Steph’s strong, she’ll be fine, she’ll be-”

Barry’s phone rings, startling him so much that he yelps and jumps in place.

“H-Hello?”

“Barry?”

The boy finally quits his pacing for good. His hand flies to his forehead. He had totally forgotten he was supposed to return to the Batcave after being with Steph. Things had seemed to gotten worse. After their rescue on the train, panic had seemed to reign on the streets for several hours. There was no explanation, but they knew it had something to do with the rest of strange events. And maybe a villain was behind it all.

But now… Stephanie needs him. She is sick. Now he can’t leave her.

“Bruce! I’m so sorry” Barry rapidly says. “I know I should be there, but Steph got really sick and…”

“Is she alright?”

“Y-Yeah, yeah… I think so…”

“And you?”

“I’m fine, I just got scared…” He sighs, settling his nerves. “Really freaking scared”

“So you can’t make it?” Bruce asks him, but at least Barry is relieved that there is no anger or annoyance in his voice.

“I’m afraid not… I’m really sorry, I just…”

“I understand” The man replies. “But we have to check that out”

“Sure, yeah!” Barry nervously ruffles his own hair. “You guys be careful out there, okay?”

“We will” Bruce gently says. “Take care of your friend”

“Yeah” The boy absently hangs up, turning to her once more. She is now lying over her side, having turned slightly in her sleep.

Barry watches her, wondering how he can contain such an immense amount of fondness for her. Just the sight of her pale face was enough to break his heart. If he could, he would hold her tight and never let go, protect her from everything.

When he slowly walks closer to her, a board of the wooden floor creaks. Barry freezes, but it’s too late. Stephanie groggily turns around, opening her eyes moving her head to look around her.

“Barry?” She mumbles, looking around, disoriented. “What…?”

What is Barry doing there with her? However, she quickly forgets about him when her eyes fall on the window. It’s almost dawn. An alarm blasts in her head as her usual routine occupies all her thoughts. She needs to get ready!

"I gotta go to work!" Stephanie makes to stand from the bed, but Barry is faster. He pushes her by the shoulders and forces her to lie down again.

"What?” He exclaims, feeling that anguish that he had just gotten rid of creeping up again. “Are you… are you serious?"

"Barry, I’m gonna be late! Our investigation is very important, it will help so many-"

“Oh my gosh, Steph!” He exclaims, in a surprisingly loud and exasperated voice that instantly silences her in astonishment. “Can you stop thinking about everyone else and take care of yourself for one minute?! Don’t you remember what happened to you?!”

And suddenly, with his words, Stephanie does remember. The accident, the hospital, the heroic attempt, the inexplicable dread in the air… Everything. She relaxes, forgetting about work. She now remembers she hasn’t gone to the lab in a week. But it’s too late for Barry.

Stephanie gawks at him, having no words to retaliate. His sudden outburst is so unexpected that she is utterly speechless. A second after he finishes his sentence, however, his eyes widen in surprise as well. They silently stare at each other.

“I’m so sorry” He utters, averting his gaze in shame. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you, I just…”

“You’re right… I just got a little disoriented” Stephanie reaches out to delicately take his hand, which he reluctantly allows. “I’m going to lie down, okay?”

The boy nods his head, and he doesn’t move at first even as she insists. When Stephanie tugs at his fingers, he starts to move slowly. Barry turns, hesitantly facing her. Stephanie only pulls a little harder, inviting to sit with her as she returns to her previous spot. Exhaling all the anguish in a shaky breath, Barry joins her in the bed.

No more words are spoken for several seconds. Stephanie doesn’t let go of Barry’s hand. His eyes are watery. Even as he looks away again, she knows, and that is why she tugs at him until they’re both lying down. Resting on their sides, they’re now facing each other. They just rest there for a moment, letting all the tension in the air to vanish and lingering on their positions until Stephanie’s soft voice breaks the silence.

“Are you okay, Barry?”

“Yeah...” He takes a deep breath in. “Just a little shaky”

“I’m sorry…” She mutters, and her hand is delicately pressing against his cheek before she can stop herself. “I really hate to worry you”

“You can’t scare me like that again, okay? Ever” Barry replies, taking her hand off his face and clutching it between both his palms. “Just when I thought you were out of danger you faint on me like that and…”

“I’m okay, Barry” Stephanie assures, chuckling a little when his eyes fall upon hers in a skeptical manner. “I’m better now, really, I just need some rest”

“I can assure you, you’re getting some rest” Remnants of that exasperated tone linger in his voice. “I’m making sure you get some sleep even if I have to lie all day here with you!”

“Is that a threat?” She tenderly smiles, and the callback causes Barry to chuckle.

He pauses, taking a moment to sigh and calm himself.

“Are you really feeling okay?” He lovingly presses her hand against his chest. His heart is drumming underneath it. “Don’t lie to me, Steph, I’ll know”

“I am, I promise” Stephanie snuggles closer to him, embracing his warmth and comforting presence. “Just a little tired”

“What happened to you?” He whispers in concern, even if his arm automatically falls over her frame. “I thought you had rested a lot, that you were recovered. Did I overdo it today? I really tried to…”

“No, no, it’s not that” The girl locks eyes with him, biting her lip as she wonders if she should tell him. In the end she partially does, thinking that he doesn’t need to know the true reason behind her little adventure. “When I went for that walk earlier I… I don’t know… Something affected me… It was like the air was contaminated… It made me feel scared and horrible”

“What was it?”

“I have no idea… I just know there’s something strange going on in this city”

“Yeah, I know…” Barry somberly mutters. After a brief pause, he feels his shoulders relaxing the closer she is. “Try to get some sleep, okay? I’ll watch over you”

Stephanie breathes in, just at the same time that Barry does, and peacefully exhales with him. She hasn’t been feeling safe ever since that awful experience from before. Now, next to Barry and enveloped by his arms, she feels the safest she’s ever been.

Tag list: @scared-to-be-lonely345 / @ocfairygodmother // Ask to be added to be notified when I post for this series!!

#loves worth running to #lwrt #barry allen #barry allen x reader #barry allen x oc #barry allen imagine #ezra miller #justice league #justice league imagine #justice league series #dc #dc series #dc imagine #oc #series #original character

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