#i brought my uniform and everyone signed it and it’s so full of colors and notes i love it so mucj i’m keeping it forever | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

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.”

779 notes · View notes

ashotofeuphoria · 3 years

Text

As I Hold You

Pairing: Firefighter! Jongho x Injured! Reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: character death (not member or reader), ANGST, car accident, blood, injury, fire, v brief description of a dead body, trauma, potential miscarriage (hinted at), let me know if i missed anything!

Authors Note: First fic! Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy!

You don't remember the impact. The sound of metal crushing, of horns blaring, and tires screeching. Everything just went black.

You had been out running errands all day with your younger brother, Gabriel. You needed to pick up some more supplies for your baby who was soon to arrive. Your first baby shower was scheduled for this upcoming weekend. While you knew that your family and friends would support you and buy you most everything you needed for your baby; you still wanted to buy cute outfits and toys in the anticipation of their arrival.

Your final stop was a new boutique that opened across town, and your younger brother was eager to chauffeur you. He knew that you were a little scared of what the future held and wanted to ease any stress he could, by doing little acts of service for you.

You were living with your family and would remain there throughout your first year of motherhood. You hadn't meant to become pregnant. In fact, you were rather scared of the idea of children and pregnancy. But accidents happen, as they tend to, and your (ex)boyfriend ended up knocking you up.

It was an amicable split when you broke up. You both knew it wouldn't last, and children don't fix broken relationships. He did agree to support you the best he can and you're thankful for that much. It's overwhelming honestly, having the amount of support from everyone that you do. One thing is for sure, this baby will be so loved.

Your brother walked you out to the car, all the bags in his hands, opened the door for you and helped you in. You were only about 4 months along, so you just barely had a visible bump on your small figure. But he held your hand and helped you step into the car regardless. He shut the door and ran around to the driver's side before opening the door and hopping in.

"Thank you for driving me today, buddy. I know you have other things you could be doing," you said as he started the car.

"You know I'd rather spend time with you than do anything else. All I do is read and listen to music in my room, it's not like I do all that much," he chuckled, finding it amusing how appreciative you are of a simple car ride.

"Yeah, alright," you smiled towards him, "Still I know you aren't required to help me out, so thank you. Love you, bubs."

"Love you too, y/n," he said as he glanced towards you with a soft smile.

The car pulled out of the parking lot with the GPS routed 20 minutes down the highway to the boutique. Gabriel took a left out of the neighborhood, and you asked him for the aux.

"Sure," he replied, keeping his eyes on the road but reaching for the cord to hand to you.

You began playing your K-pop playlist, something that's been getting you through the days recently. When you hit shuffle, Love Die Young by Eric Nam started playing. You started to harmonize with the chorus as Gabe pulled the car onto the highway.

"Not this sappy shit, y/n, really?" he giggled as he watched you dramatically act out the song, clutching at your heart as you sing, staring at him with a smile plastered on your face.

"His voice is so smooth I can't help it Gabe," you exclaimed in a sing-songy tone. "So, what do you think I'm gonna have? A boy or girl?" you ask him as the car hits the speed limit and he puts on cruise control.

"Honestly, I think it'll be a little girl. I hope it is at least. We gotta buy so many cute outfits today. I can't wait to help you take care of them. Whatever they may be," he laughed glancing over at you.

"I have this whole idea for their room, I want to do a taupe and mossy green color for the walls. And I think I want a lot of cute pictures of plants and different animals. Ya know, to keep it pretty but neutral, something that can age well with them," you explained to him as he steadily controls the car.

"I think it'll look perfect," he responded. "10 more minutes and we'll be there."

You nodded your head and looked out the window at the greenery. Ideas of outfits and nurseries swimming in your head. You closed your eyes, propped your arm up on the window, and leaned your head against your hand as the car drifted down the highway.

Your eyes jolted open when you suddenly hear Gabe go from a whisper to a shout "fuck, fuCK, FUCK Y/N HANG ON!"

A car had swerved and jumped the median and was driving directly towards you, mere meters away. Showing no signs of stopping, and Gabriel having no real way to swerve to avoid them, he threw an arm in front of you, and you brought your hands up to cover your face, your knees coming up on instinct to protect your belly.

And everything went black.

----

When you came to, the first thing you noticed was the smell. Metallic, and smoky, like something was burning. Then you felt a searing pain in your head. You struggled to open your eyes but when you did you couldn't believe what you were surrounded by. The airbags had deployed, but there was blood splattered across the car. You could tell smoke was rising out of the engine, but you couldn't see much else through the cracked windshield.

You look to your left and see Gabriel covered in blood, eyes closed. And you immediately feared the worst.

"Gabe! GABE!" you reached over to shake him, to hold onto his cheek and try and get him to face you. To open his eyes. To do anything. Your ears are ringing, and you can feel your eyes stinging when he won't respond. Your hands are desperately grabbing at his shirt, and hair, willing for him to wake up, for him to be okay.

"Gabe," your voice barely bubbling out of your throat as sobs begin to overtake your body. "Gabe, please, please, wake up. please, you can't, no, please, Gabe, bubs, you're okay, we're okay, please," the sobs wrack your body as you gasp for air between each word. Tears are streaming down your face and suddenly your focus is on your hands, and you see they're covered in blood.

You hold your hands in front of you and stare at them in horror when your vision redirects to your legs. You're crushed in the car. Your legs trapped under the dashboard. Your hearing is slowly coming back as you hear sirens somewhere in the distance, but from what direction you were unaware.

You remember a car had hit you head on when it crossed into your lane going well over the speed limit. As you glance out of the passenger window to see what happened to the other car (and if you're even still on the highway) you're met with a ghastly picture of your face in the side view mirror. Your forehead has been deeply cut, and blood is dripping thickly down your forehead and has mixed with the tears falling down your cheeks.

You cough when you begin to inhale smoke. Your vision blurring, your head falls back onto your headrest as you pass out.

----

As you come to, a faint knocking sound begins to grow louder, until you can hear a man yelling "Ma'am! Ma'am! Can you hear me! You gotta wake up! Ma'am!"

You cough the smoke out of your lungs, your head throbs from the movement and you wince in pain. You're brought back to the situation you've found yourself in and remember Gabe is next to you. You look over to him and the feelings become overwhelming again, as you stare at what you can only assume is his dead body.

As a sob erupts from your throat, you look out your window at the man who was calling for you, and are met with desperate, soft brown eyes staring at you through a helmet and face guard. He's a firefighter dressed in full gear. He yells something to you, trying to overpower the other noises happening on the busy highway but you can't connect the sounds with words in your brain. You can only stare at him in confusion, tears falling faster down your cheeks, your breathing uneven.

You see him reach for the handle of the car door and try and open it mumbling a quick "fuck!" in frustration. You're trapped in this car, and he needs to find a way to get both of you out before the whole car goes up in flames.

"Get the jaws! The doors are jammed!" He yells at the team of firefighters surrounding the car and the truck.

He looks back down to you and says as clearly and reassuringly as he can, "Hey, it's okay. It'll be okay, we're gonna get you out of there, okay?"

You begin to nod your head in response when a knock is heard at your brother's window. You whip your head around and see stars for a moment. When your sight clears you see a taller man in uniform shouting to your brother, who isn't responding. Your voice is small and cracks as you try and tell the man outside "he can't, he's not-" and you feel your chest become tight once more.

You hear the man at your window begin talking to you.

"Ma'am, please try and stay still. We must make sure your head is okay. Alright? Please don't move too much. Can you do that for me?" he politely asks you, empathizing with your situation.

You meekly nod your head. Your eyes are stinging. You don't know if it's the smoke or the tears, but it's probably both. As you focus on the man in front of you, you hear the man near your brother begin yelling at his team about the window and needing to check Gabriel's vitals. The man in front of you can tell you're not paying attention, so he speaks up.

"Yunho is going to break the glass to check the man next to you, okay? Just look at me, don't look away from me, okay? My name's Jongho. Just look at me, okay? What's your name?" Jongho asks you to keep you preoccupied and focused on him.

"Y/N," you try and get out of your throat. It's so dry and scratchy your voice isn't much higher than a whisper.

"Okay, y/n. Listen to me, you'll be okay. I'm going to get you out, okay? Who is that in the car with you?"

"M-my brother, Gabe, but he, I-I don't thin-nk," you choke out as you stare at Jongho, unable to say the words. That Gabe is dead. But you don't want him to be. You don't want it to be true. You look down at your door, suddenly feeling very claustrophobic, unable to breathe. You hear glass shatter. As you begin to turn your head, Jongho raises his voice, keeping your focus on him.

"Your brother? Yunho is going to check on him and make sure everything is okay." you hear him say.

"Ma'am, are you okay?" Yunho calls out from the driver window. "Try not to breathe the smoke in, Jongho is gonna break your window to get to you, I'm going to take your brothers vitals and make sure he's doing okay. We're going to get you out of here as quickly as possible, okay?"

You glance towards him and nod your head, finding your eyes drawn to the way he checks for a pulse on Gabe, his slender fingers dancing on his throat, his wrist, anywhere he could find a heartbeat. And seeing the increasing worry on Yunho's face does nothing to reassure you. You see his eyes widen, and yours follow. He leans back and yells over to the team, "There's a pulse. It's faint, we need to get him airlifted asap! San, I need you over here!"

While you're fixated on Gabe's pale and limp figure, you hear glass shatter next to you followed by a warm hand turning your cheek towards him. You involuntarily gasp and sputter at the influx of fresh air.

"Deep breaths for me, Y/n. Please look at me." he gently demands. You look into his eyes as he shines a flashlight above them checking your pupils. He can see how bloodshot your eyes are from crying, and he glances over at your brother, then back at you. "Hey, it'll be okay, we're here now. Just look at me, don't look at him. You're okay. Everyone is here to protect you." he rushes out.

His hand rests under your chin as he uses two callused fingers to check your pulse. Then he gently tilts your head to each side to inspect the gash on your forehead as quickly as possible. He glances down your body to check your arms, and torso seeing they're mainly just bruised, when his eyes land on your bump.

His eyes widen as he asks you urgently, "Y/n are you expecting? Are you carrying a child?"

You hadn't even thought about your child. You had been so distraught over your brother; you didn't even consider the health or wellbeing of your unborn baby. Your heart rate rapidly increases as panic begins to set in.

"y-yes I am, I'm 4 months. I-I'm, do you think, are they? god please don't tell me-" you start blubbering as all the possibilities begin to tumble through your head.

Before he can reassure you, he checks down the rest of your body and sees your legs are trapped under the dashboard. And that even when the door is off you won't be able to get yourself out of the car. Jongho defaults to reassurance as he really can't even begin to answer the questions you're asking him, "I-it's okay. Everything is okay. Let's get you out of this car."

Smoke is becoming thicker around the front of the car, and you watch as it blows around Jongho's figure, flooding out the highway from where you sit. Tensions are growing higher as the crew knows there isn't much longer before the car is gone. Four men are teamed together and grab the Jaws of Life from the truck as they begin walking toward your car. Setting up on your brothers side you begin to hear metal cracking and snapping as the four men work to pry the car open with the heavy machinery. You're itching in your skin wishing to jump up and run now that you're trapped, and Jongho can tell. He has his hand braced at the back of your neck, keeping it steady, as you once again begin to panic; he rubs circles on your arm, and pushes your hair back from your sticky forehead and out of your eyes.

You can hear the Jaws stop and in the reflection of the side view mirror you can see Gabe's lifeless body being pulled from the car, his body pale and bright red from blood, blue and purple littering his figure. He's placed on a gurney and run towards the truck where someone begins CPR.

You redirect your eyes to meet Jongho's, whose eyes are looking deeply at you searching for any sign of pain or discomfort, any sudden changes in your condition. "Is he going to be okay? He has to be okay. Please tell me they can fix him." you plead with Jongho, who looks at you with nothing but the heaviest of hearts.

"We're going to do our best. I promise you we will do everything we can. But right now, we need to get you out of here too." he explains. "I'm going to go bring the Jaws over this way and we are going to get you two out of here," he asserts, gesturing at your bump. "I need you to stay still just like you have been, okay? You're doing so great. Keep your arms as close to your body as you can, and don't look at the window in case anything splinters. Do you understand me?" he asks you.

"Please don't leave me. P-please don't, don't go. Please stay." you sob as you realize you'll be left alone in your wrecked car.

"I'll be right here. Remember stay still and close your eyes." he reminds you as he drops his hands from you and gives his team room to operate on the car door.

You sob quietly to yourself. You can't believe this is happening. How Gabe could be here one second and now he's gone. The image of his pale bloody face is burned into the back of your eyelids as you squeeze them tightly shut. You hear the metal of the car frame crunching and cracking once again, as all four men yell commands and directions at each other. Your sobs are uncontrollable as you wish it had been you and not your brother. You wish with all your heart that you could've taken his place.

The door hits the asphalt and almost instantly you hear Jongho next to you, "It's okay. I'm here. I'm right here. I never left." He notices how black the smoke has gotten and decides to check your legs to see if he can carry you out before the rest of the car is disassembled.

"Can you feel your legs?" he urgently asks you.

You nod your head as you cough so hard that you gag.

"shit-" Jongho mumbles under his breath, looking all over your figure and the car, knowing he must move now or never. With his mind moving a million miles a second, he makes the decision that your legs are likely not broken and brings out a blade from his pocket to saw your seat belt off you. You watch as the sweat beads down his forehead and across his dimpled cheeks as he grits his teeth.

Jongho puts his arms under yours, pulling you into his chest, getting your upper body mostly out of the car. When your legs are more visible, he puts one arm under your back and the other under your knees and lifts. You slide out from under the dashboard and with your neck cradled by his bicep and forearm he jogs you away from the car towards the firetruck. He gets five strides in when you hear the explosion. You peek past his arm to see your car engulfed in flames. You can feel the heat on your face, and the sound has left your ears ringing once more.

The team must've anticipated the event as hoses immediately start spraying to drown the car fire. Jongho gets behind the firetruck away from the fire and sets you down making sure you are stable, with no further injuries from his manhandling. He gently places a hand on your bump and hopes against everything that this baby is okay. Just as he's about to stand to find his captain and report your status he feels your hands fist into his uniform jacket holding onto him.

"please don't leave me. please don't leave. d-don't go." you hiccup as you stare pleadingly up at him. With the way you're gripping onto him, he knows there's no way he can walk away from you right now. Instead, he stands up and grabs a clean towel from just inside the truck and begins to tenderly wipe the blood and tears off your face, avoiding the gash on your forehead.

He doesn't have the heart to tell you that Gabe didn't make it, his body covered with a sheet on the other side of the truck. He also doesn't know how to explain that if Gabe hadn't reached over to protect you, he might've been in less critical condition. That he died protecting you. So, for now he wipes away the grime; and, after seeing you shaking, unbuttons his thick uniform jacket so he can hug you; until the paramedics arrive and will inevitably pull you away from him. You don't hesitate to wrap your small arms around his waist, and he holds you, pressing your head against his chest where you can hear his steady heartbeat.

"It's okay, y/n, it's going to be okay. You're okay. I'm here. I've got you." he repeats it like a mantra, over and over, convincing he thinks, both you and himself.

60 notes · View notes

cheekygreenty · 3 years

Text

Little Witch - Part 21

The Darkling x Reader

The atmosphere in the Palace was welcoming and enjoyable yet you couldn't help but dampen the mood of those around you. Your smiles were visible fake, your laughs as forced as the diplomacy of the evening. It was hard to focus on anything but the Queen's request, you could still feel her cold touch on your hands, could still hear her voice as if she was standing next to you. Some would say being in the presence of the Royals was a blessing by the Saints, but to you it was a sudden blight; a curse.

The duties and obligations you had were out the window now as you looked for the particular head of red flame hair, completely ignoring the Kerch ambassador and his slurring words of trade agreements.

Did Genya tell her General that the charming Lantsov Prince was soon to be wed to the Deputy of the Second-army? Or did she keep that part to herself? You had a feeling it was the latter given Aleksander's behavior earlier but what if he knew- What if his obedient spy told him everything and he was looking at your predicament as an opportunity, even though it would hurt you to the core and shatter your moral values. There's nothing he wouldn't do for more power.

'Deputy Y/L/N, I presume?' A man in a military uniform adorned with colorful medals approached you from the side, silently shooeing the Kerch man away and taking his place despite your obvious air of hostility. You were in no mood for diplomacy.

'The one and only.'

'So I have heard.' You could make out the smallest tinge of an accent reminiscent of a Fjerdan rhythm through the spoken words. His blonde hair and long beard tell-tale signs of his druskelle service and enough for your anger to flare. 'Tell me, what kind of Grisha are you?' You didn't miss the disgust dripping from the word as he forced it through his teeth. No doubt he hated himself for being here.

'A powerful one.'

'More powerful than the Sun-Summoner?'

'Much.'

'I won't forget that.'

'I hope you don't. Tell your people too, it'll save me some time and perhaps some lives.'

'Is that a threat Deputy?'

'Yes' He snorted and looked around the lively room.

'Fjerda isn't here to fight tonight, we're here to party. I thought it would be the same for you, no?'

'I don't keep peace with people who wish my kind dead.'

'Neither does your General. But the West, I'm not too sure they're on the same page'

You bit back the urge to smack the tall man stone-cold. The West was a tricky situation that had been playing heavily on your mind for as long as you could remember. Although it was Ravka, Grisha were no longer safe there. Zlatan was coercing with the Fjerdans to capture Grisha in exchange for military backup and as much as it angered you to keep the First-Army General alive, it would create a whole other problem if he was found dead.

'West Ravka is Ravka. All Zlatan is is a mere General of the First-Army. He's no King.'

'You would be surprised. People would listen to a stableboy if he spoke of truth and justice.'

'And would Fjerda back him up too?'

He smirked and gave a nod of his head in amusement at your raging eyes. 'You drüsje get so worked up over words. It's actions that matter.'

'Not here in Ravka. Remember where and what you are. Then think of what half of this room can do to you' Without so much as a goodbye, you walked away from him with a huff and continued looking for Genya. You hadn't even seen Aleksander make an appearance yet but you didn't think you wanted to see him, not after your conversation with the Queen.

We wish for you to marry my son

Every time you thought you had shaken the haunting request, it came back with a shiver up your spine. It went against everything you ever believed in. You hated the crown, the Lantsov line, you hated the Ravka they created. But this didn't feel like something you could reject. It wasn't a proposal, it was an alliance.

You turned your head to the doors and watched as Zoya clambered up the stairs in her stunning blue silk kefta. Behind her, a Suli performer climbed up on her silks as if it were all she'd ever known. Her body swung gracefully and smoothly, not batting an eyelid at all her observers. It was memorizing and distracting, something for which you were thankful.

'Haven't you got some Dukes and Ministers to babysit?' Zoya appeared beside you, eyeing up the empty glass in your hand.

'Let them roam free for the night'

'As long as they're not groveling over me'

'Because your presence is so much more captivating than the Sun-Summoners' You rolled your eyes and made your way to get a new, full, glass.

'Thank you for finally admitting it'

'Where's Genya Saffin?'

She made a face and took a glass to, bringing it up to her lips and taking a small sip.

'With Alina. Why?'

'Oh nothing, just some details to hash out about Marie attending dinner' You covered up. 'I spoke with a Fjerdan dignitary. He had no problem hiding that West Ravka is coming to their aid.' Zoya was a good soldier and a great tactician, if you were to tell anyone such sensitive information, it would definitely be Zoya.

'I overheard a Zemeni ambassador say they were spotted at Zlatan's rallies. He's raising his ranks whilst our own coffers run out. We can't afford a war with each of our borders'

'Try telling the King that' The Lantsov King. Nikolai's father. Nikolai.

'Saints are you alright?' Zoya looked at you with wide eyes, then to the broken glass crumbling in your hand. You had been clutching it so hard you managed to smash it and slice the palm of your hand.

'Oh umm- I need a moment' You disposed of the glass on a nearby table and basically ran to the nearest washroom. Crimson red blood dripped slowly from your fingers as you tried to keep it from staining your kefta while you closed the door behind you.

This was the first moment since your talk with the Queen where you were alone. Truly alone, no ambassador looming over your shoulder or a Duke at your side. Alexander, Alina, and Genya were still nowhere to be seen and the demonstration would begin shortly but all you wanted to do was stay in this tiny and stuffy room, shut off from everything. You washed your hand down with water, hissing in pain as the water tinted red and carried away the signs of injury. The quarters were quiet and calm, a stark contrast to the liveliness in the hall not often seen in the Little Palace.

The Little Palace tended to be quiet, but the Grand Palace was different. The Grand Palace. The winter home of the Lantsovs. Nikolai. Marriage.

The gentle tears came like a surprise, rolling down your face with grace. 'Fuck me' was all you could say as your head rested on your uninjured hand. You still felt exhausted and overwhelmed now even more so but you liked to think you hid it well. What good was a Deputy in emotional turmoil at a party full of political vultures?

The door to the small space suddenly opened and none other than Genya Saffin walked in with ease only she possessed. She looked at you in shame then fixed her attention on her shoes, not meeting your broken gaze.

'I take it you spoke with Tatiana?'

'Why didn't you tell General Kirigan?' You sniffed and wrapped your hand in a handkerchief, not bothering to wipe away the tears that you continued to cry.

'I felt it wasn't my place'

'Why?' Your voice cracked, slightly distracting you but the meaning to your question was obvious. Why me?

'She wished to squelch his bastardry rumors with your standing reputation.'

'Does he know?'

'She wrote him, but he has yet to respond.'

'Why not Vasily? Is it to make sure a Grisha never sits on the throne?'

She stayed quiet, toying with her sleeve. 'She says you have the air of a false Queen but the mind of a demon'

'Nothing new there' You laughed and straightened up, using the handkerchief on your hand to pat your face dry, diminishing any last sign of your weak moment away. 'Is Alina ready?' She looked at you with pure pity on her face, the compassion bursting on her face busting at its seams.

'Yes. Last I saw she was with the General.'

'Thank you Ms.Saffin'

***

You didn't mean to miss the demonstrations, but you took your time walking back to the main hall anyway. It was only when you saw the darkened room and searing light did you stop dead in your tracks at the door. Alina stood there on the podium, the image of a Saint. Her black and gold kefta shimmered in her light beautifully, illuminating her face and smile. She was glowing. Her powers had brought her not only luxurious life but good health, something everyone prays for. The black looked well on her too. It set her apart from the sea of bright keftas and gowns. In a Palace full of Grisha and powerful members of society, only Alina and Aleksander wore the black keftas, not even you wore it tonight and it made you feel surprisingly insecure.

He stood to her side, enthralled by her show of strength and skill. He was fascinated with her, it showed in his eyes and on his face but it definitely wasn't a facade. Even watching them from afar you could see that he looked at her as if she was his Sun, the only thing capable of lighting up his night sky.

You didn't know how to look at her. Everyone around you was worshipping her, whispering silent prayers to Sankta Alina: the Sun Saint, but you stayed frozen and still. You were never faithful to the Saints, they never listened to you, so what good would pledging your allegiance to Alina be if you knew Aleksander planned to extort her?

The whole room was kneeling now, heads bent down in symbols of submission yet you stood. No doubt you stuck out like a sore thumb, but a leader does not bow to anybody, not even the Saints. He momentarily turned his head to look at you but his eyes were far from the softness he gave Alina. They spoke more than his smooth words ever could yet this time the silent exchange did nothing to soothe your muddled head.

A tap on your shoulder caused you to break your burning gaze away from the summoners and to a guard instead.

'Deputy, we have 2 First-Army soldiers who claim to have found Morozova's Stag' The Stag. Just my luck.

'Tell the General, I have no business with the stag' You waved him off and returned your stare back to the room, scanning the crowd like a hawk when her eyes caught yours. Queen Tatiana was looking through to your soul, demolishing any confidence you could muster at that moment.

Marry my son.

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

Part 22

Taglist (tell me if you want to be added to the Little Witch taglist!!) @theonelittleone @searching-for-gallifrey @0-artemis @lostysworld @xceafh @fire-in-her-veinz @patdsinner33 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @wizardwheezes @aleksanderwh0r3 @tomhollandisabae @hotleaf-juice @justmesadgirl @exo-1204 @houseofdupree @oberonpascal @eireduchess @lunas1x1 @adoringb @grisha-of-shadow-bone @rosiethefairy @carlywhomever @allisjustok @keepdaydreamingbb @luciadiosa

#shadow and bone #the darkling #imagine #the darkling x reader #ben barnes #grisha #alexander #alexander morozova #alina starkov #fanfic #general kirigan x reader #six of crows

117 notes · View notes

hanoella · 3 years

Text

Affettuoso- With Feeling (Part 2)

Pairing: Bucky x Pianist!Reader

Set after the events of TFATWS: In an effort to start over and make a home in Louisiana, Bucky meets a friend of Sam’s who ends up being his landlord. With only a driveway to separate them, he finds that he’s not the only one looking for a fresh start.

Series tags/warnings: Slow Burn, Eventual Bucky x Reader, Mentions of Domestic Abuse, Canon Level Violence

Part 2 Word Count: 3.5k

Read Part 1; Read Part 3

Autumn

A few days passed and the temperature had started dropping to one appropriate to fall. Each morning, Bucky had gotten up to exercise. And each morning, he opened his curtains to see that the house across from him remained unchanged. Lights that never turned off. No noise whatsoever. If it weren’t for your car in the driveway, he would’ve thought that no one lived there.

On his runs, he was able to see various things that needed fixing, like a fallen tree that was slightly in the way of a path or a pothole in the driveway he could patch. This morning though, instead of his run, he decided he was going to look around the back of the house, which was fenced off into a yard. From the gate, Bucky could see an old in-ground fire pit in the middle of the yard, closer to the screened in patio of the house than the far end of the yard, where the grass was overgrown- he would have to get on that.

The sound of a vehicle crunching on the gravel driveway caught Bucky’s attention. He walked from the side gate to the front porch where a man in a postal worker’s uniform was straining to get a large box out of the truck. Jogging over, he helped the older man set it down on the ground.

“Phew, thank you kindly sir,” the older man huffed as he took his hat off and wiped the sweat off of his forehead.

After taking a few moments to catch his breath, he walked around the side of the mail truck to grab a tablet from the front seat.

“Can you sign for this package?” He asked as he handed the tablet over to Bucky.

“Uh, sure.”

As he was signing, you came out the front door with a bottle of water in your hand. Bounding down the steps, you handed the cold water to the postal worker.

“Sorry, I would’ve been out earlier but I saw that you were working so hard, so I went back to grab a water for you.”

Bucky handed the tablet back as the older man thanked you.

“I appreciate it, ma’am. Do ya'll need help getting this inside?”

You looked at Bucky who shook his head.

“I think we’ve got it from here.” He said.

“Okay folks. Have a nice day.”

The postal worker turned around and got back in his truck. As the car started to roll forward, he lowered the window and waved while saying,

“It’s nice to see a kind young couple move into this area!”

With the truck halfway down the driveway, there was no chance to correct him. You looked at Bucky, mouth slightly ajar before shrugging it off with a small laugh. He chuckled as he awkwardly scratched the back of his head.

“He seems like a sweet guy.” You said as you watched the truck disappear behind the trees.

“Yeah.”

You stood there for a moment in silence before you spoke.

“So…”

“I’ll help you bring this in.”

“Okay, great, because there was no chance I was going to get this in by myself.”

You watched as Bucky lifted the large box with ease. As he went up the porch steps, you quickly passed him to hold the door open for him.

“I’m pretty sure that’s my bed frame, so you can set it in the room at the end of the hall.”

He turned to head down the hall, being careful to not bump into any walls. Entering the open room, he saw a room with plain white walls and a light sand-colored hardwood floor. Delicate sage green curtains moved ever so slightly as the breeze brought fresh air into the room. There was a mirrored closet with clothes that was cracked open, a small white table close to the ground, some boxes stacked in the corner of the room, and in the middle of the floor was a mattress covered in sheets, blankets, pillows and a laptop paired to some over ear headphones. He set the box down leaning against the wall.

“Ah, sorry about the mess, I haven’t had a chance to really get anything set up.” You say as you pass him to open the curtains wider.

“It’s alright, I’m sorry you had to sleep on the floor.”

“Oh, that’s alright. I still had the mattress so it wasn’t bad.”

Another pause. Bucky cleared his throat.

“Do you want help putting it together?” He asked, gesturing towards the box.

You sighed in response.

“Yeah, actually, I could. I’m sorry to trouble you.”

“It’s no trouble.” He replied, seeing you smile tiredly from the corner of his eye.

You grabbed a pair of scissors sitting on the vanity and started opening the box. Once it was open, Bucky pulled out a large fabric cream colored headboard. You tried not to be too impressed at the fact that he pulled it out with one arm, flexing the muscles in ripples. It felt wrong to ogle so you shook your face slightly and dug into the box.

The material of the headboard was similar to canvas, reminiscent of the old cloth bags that flour used to come in when he was a child. As he set it down against the wall, he ran his right hand over the cloth one more time before letting his hand fall off.

The sound of you pulling out the metal parts to the actual bed frame snaps him out of his lull. Setting them down gently on the floor one by one, you attempt to make conversation.

“So, how’s the apartment? Is it okay? Do you need anything?” You asked, trying to hide how slightly out of breath that you were. Bucky walked over to grab the rest of the metal bars out of the box before you could try.

“Yeah, everything’s great. Thanks…”

There’s a lull as you fish the bag of screws and the instructions from the bottom of the box.

“Great. I couldn’t get down here soon enough to check everything myself. The real estate agent took pictures but it’s definitely not the same as laying your eyes on it in person.”

You open up the instructions and Bucky stands awkwardly before deciding to sit on the floor across from you. He leaned back onto his hands and enjoyed the fresh air circulating in the room. The slight chill was nothing compared to all the cold he had faced in his lifetime. That meant he could get by in a short-sleeved shirt and jeans. You, however, were bundled up slightly more. Bucky’s eyes trailed over you slowly as you focused on the instructions. Your hair was tucked back behind your ears in an attempt to keep it out of your eyes as you read, forest green shirt was layered with a cozy open cardigan. The black slim-cut joggers had fuzzy mid-calf socks layered over them to keep any warmth from escaping. Bucky wondered how much more you could possibly layer when the Winter comes and the true cold settles in the area. Before he could think about that, you flip back to the front page of instructions and tentatively spoke.

“Okay, so I think I get it…”

---

The next hour or so consisted of you telling him what parts went together and him screwing them together. It settled into a good flow, with scattered conversation sprinkled in between.

“So, how’re you enjoying Louisiana?” you asked casually as you skimmed over the next set of instructions.

“I haven’t been here long. It’s… different than New York,” he said as he twisted the screw in. At his prompting, you handed him another one. “Everyone’s friendly. It seems like a tight-knit community.”

“They definitely are,” you mused. “Brooklyn, right?”

He looked up at you, causing you to blink and then avert your gaze.

“Sorry,” you started to explain. “I saw the Smithsonian gallery during my last visit to New York… Do you ever have people recognize you?”

“Sometimes,” he said quietly, pausing for a moment before continuing on. “When I do get recognized, it’s not usually the kind of people I’d want to recognize me.”

Bucky thought back to shortly ago in Madripoor. Definitely not the kind of people that he wanted to recognize him. He shook the thought out of his head and continued.

“It’s strange to think that all those people who pass by the exhibit just know me now.”

You reflected on when you saw the exhibit. Right in the middle was a cutout of Bucky Barnes: Captain America’s Right Hand Man. The few paragraphs that were featured at the exhibit did not seem to fully encapsulate the man sitting in front of you, carefully screwing the metal pieces together.

“I think they know about you, but they don’t know you. There has to be more to James Buchanan Barnes than three paragraphs written by someone who’s never actually met you.” You say, meeting his eyes and raising your eyebrows comically.

For some reason, hearing his full name unnerved him. It made him antsy. He didn’t have any experience with being the center of any positive attention, and all of a sudden, your focus on him was scorching. He looked away and cleared his throat.

“Yeah, I suppose so.” He said gruffly.

You smiled gently before looking back down at the instructions to try to put him back at ease. It was funny, watching someone with such a hardened exterior be flustered so easily. There was definitely more to Bucky Barnes than meets the eye.

---

Bucky sat by himself, screwing the last piece in. You had left a few minutes ago to grab refreshments and hadn’t come back yet. He stood, dusting off his hands and pants before stretching his back and looking at the completed project. Picking up the mattress and all the blankets piled on it, he gently set it on the frame. Now it looked like you actually lived here. It was simple, but cozy.

The smell of butter and cheese wafted into the room, grabbing his attention. Looking up at the clock, Bucky realized it was almost noon. He followed the familiar smell to the kitchen where you were cooking, hair tied back and light-yellow apron. The delayed drinks were gathering condensation on the counter behind you. You looked over at him and slipped the apron over your head.

“Ah, sorry. I figured you could handle the last few screws so I started making lunch as well.” You said sheepishly.

“No, it’s fine. Thank you. It’s all done.”

He watched as you took the spatula and lifted a sandwich onto a plate, golden brown from toasting in the butter, matching the plate next to it. You had made the both of you lunch. Taking a knife, you cut the sandwiches in half and hand him the plate with the warm one that had just come out of the pan.

“It’s a grilled ham and cheese. I hope it’s okay.”

“You didn’t have to.” He responded, watching the melted cheese drip down the sides.

You shrugged. “I wanted to. Thanks for the help.”

“Thanks for the food. Do you need help assembling anything else?”

Your gaze flicked to the boxes leaning against the hallway. He looked behind at them and back, raising an eyebrow. Sighing in defeat, you spoke.

“… Yeah. But Sam is actually coming over later to help so you don’t have to do it now. If you do still want to help, you could come over then. I’ll be ordering dinner so you don’t have to worry about cooking. Though, please don’t feel like you have to. You’ve already done so much today.”

Bucky hesitated. He didn’t want to invade your life too much. After all, you were a woman living alone in a new area, the last thing you probably wanted was a strange man turning a contract into a forced friendship because you were polite. But then again, you had just moved down here. Of course, you needed a lot of help in the beginning. Soon, things will settle back to normal and then you’ll be back to just being neighbors who see each other outside occasionally.

“Sure. I’ll be back later when I hear Sam pull up. He doesn’t follow directions anyway so you probably need someone to supervise him.” He joked.

You smiled up at him.

“Great. You must be tired. You can take lunch to go and bring the plate back later.”

You didn’t want to keep him. He wouldn’t have minded staying. But he was still new to being an actual person again. His social battery was a little drained, and he appreciated the easy out.

“Okay, I’ll see you later.” He said, giving his classic low-key three finger salute.

“Bye,” you replied softly as you watched him open the screen door and walk down the porch steps. Lightly padding down the hallway, you peaked into your room, seeing the final product. It was sweet that he put the mattress down and you noticed he had also straightened out the blankets just a little. What a sweet gesture. He was a gentleman. Despite the gruff. You padded back down to the kitchen and sat at the counter to eat. It always felt wrong to make so much noise. You were just one person. One tiny insignificant useless person.

---

Bucky sat at his kitchen table, finishing the sandwich that he had started to eat on the way in. His attempt to eat it while it was still hot was so worth it, the bread still warm and comforting. As he took his last bite, he traced his finger on the little pattern of flowers and leaves on the border of the sage green ceramic plate. All of the little homey, slightly old-fashioned details were very reminiscent of home. Not his previous apartment in Brooklyn. But home back in the 1930’s when he was growing up. It was comforting. He sat back in the chair and closed his eyes, dreaming of a world that no longer existed.

---

Later, Sam knocked on the door way and shouted up the stairs through the screen door.

“Hey, anybody home?”

You bounded down the stairs and unlocked the screen door to let him in, giving him a hug in greeting.

“Woah, woah, don’t make me spill the goods,” he said with a laugh, holding the two cases of beer up.

“Good to see you too,” You joked.

Bucky saw the interaction from the garage window that faced your porch. He wondered if there was something between you two and quickly shook the thought from his head. He wasn’t jealous, just curious. It didn’t matter. After all, you were Sam’s friend first.

People can have friends, idiot. What does it matter to you? He thought to himself as he walked down the stairs to the garage.

Walking across the gravel to your front door, he knocked on the screen door as well.

“Come in!” You yelled from upstairs.

He opened the front door and walked up the stairs into the living room.

“Hey, Buck! How’re you settling in?” Sam said, giving him a hug as well.

“Good, it’s really nice out here.” He replied after they had separated.

“Good. I’m glad. You look like you finally got some rest.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that, he was over early this morning, hauling around a bunch of heavy stuff and putting furniture together.” You interjected, bringing the bottle opener in from the kitchen.

“Let me guess, he completely messed it up? Turned your table into a chair or something like that?” Sam teased. Bucky slapped him upside his arm.

“Despite the picture you painted of him, he was extremely competent.” You said while trying not to laugh at Sam’s face of fake hurt. “Now come on, there’s a beer fee, you get one beer for every piece of furniture you put together.”

“I’m the one who brought the drinks though!” Sam protested, following you down the hall to the room where the boxes were.

Bucky smiled a bit as he listened to you both squabble. Friends or not, it was nice to have someone else to annoy Sam with.

---

“You sure you’re okay to go pick up the food?”

You looked up at Bucky from where you sitting on the floor, reading directions while Sam, who was ever so slightly tipsy, was trying to get a leg of a night stand to fit straight.

“Yeah, I’m good. He looks… busy. And it’s probably better for me to go out this late. You know, ‘cuz you’re a woman... lady.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Not to say that you’re not perfectly capable of handling yourself, I just mean… uh…”

“Pff-”

The laugh that Sam had been trying to hold back escaped from between his lips loudly as he covered his mouth. You rolled your eyes but regardless, a smile crept up on your face.

“Ignore him. I was just giving you a hard time. It’s very chivalrous.”

You paused thoughtfully.

“On a serious note, that’s very sweet of you. I appreciate it. You can just charge it to the card I gave you.”

He nodded and started walking down the stairs to the porch.

“Be safe!” He heard you call softly down the stairs.

“Will do.” Bucky instinctively responded.

The screen door shut behind him as he made his way across the driveway to where his own motorcycle was parked. A sleek modern black sports bike. Something he’d bought when he wasn’t ready to look at Steve’s old cruiser. He’d put the cruiser in the garage to work on and keep safe.

He mounted the bike and started it, the engine coming to life. He went to check what time it was on his phone when he realized he had left it inside. Swinging his leg over, he started to walk back up to the front door when he heard your conversation with Sam from the open living room window.

“Feeling at home?” Sam asked. There was a short silence before you answered hesitantly.

“Something like that.”

“How you holding up?”

“It’s been okay… lonely… I just can’t believe I let it go on for so long.”

Bucky hadn’t realized he had stopped in his tracks, eyebrows furrowed as he listened.

“The people who are trapped in the abusive relationship themselves always have a harder time seeing it than anyone else.”

Bucky blinked in surprise as Sam continued.

“It’s like that thing they say when you’re cooking with frogs. If the water’s boiling when you first put them in, they’ll hop right out the pot. But if you put the frog in cool water and slowly heat it up, they’ll stay, no matter how hot it gets. The more gradual the process is, the less likely they are to realize that they’re in trouble before it’s too late.”

“Yeah…” Your voice sounded heavy. Burdened.

“He was nice at first, wasn’t he?” You asked rhetorically.

“He was.”

“Fooled me…”

“Fooled me too. I never would’ve introduced him to you if I had known that’s what he was like. I should’ve known there was something off about him. I should’ve sensed it during the support group he came to at the VA.” Sam said regretfully.

“Hey, it’s not your fault, Sam.” You said, chastising him. “At some point, I knew that things were heading in the wrong direction. He got so angry. So spiteful. I knew I had stopped loving him and started being afraid of him. But then everyone was dusted, and I didn’t have anywhere else to be, anyone else to be with besides him. Being somewhere new by myself would bring struggles I couldn’t prepare for. At least with him, I knew what to be afraid of. Then everyone came back and he almost killed me. I guess I was just a poor little froggy.”

You tried to ease the heaviness of the conversation by being lighthearted with the last sentence. But there was still a sadness in your voice.

“Still. I wish I could’ve helped you when you broke your shoulder.”

“Don’t feel bad, Sammy. I ended up just fine. I’m here now. The only thing I regret is letting him trash my piano. It was old, but I grew up playing that thing.”

“I know how much it meant to you.”

“It’s okay, it's a new start. Besides, you were off fighting to be Captain America! Rightfully so. If this was the sacrifice I had to make for the right man to be able to take up the shield, I would’ve broken my other shoulder too!”

Sam must have given you a death glare because you laughed suddenly and your tone changed to defensive.

“Kidding! Kidding. Yeesh. But seriously, I’m proud of you. And thank you, for helping me start over.”

Bucky unclenched his hands. He hadn’t realized that he had gotten tense. Turning around, he headed back to the bike. He didn’t need his phone. He didn't want to let on that he overheard. Getting back on the bike, he waited until he heard laughter to sneak down the driveway, masking the fact that he was just now leaving.

Once he got out on the road, he sped up- letting the wind sting against his face and cool it down. The thought of a man using his own strength to hurt what was supposed to be his other half- it made him so mad. No wonder you were scrambling to get out here. He hoped that you never had to go through anything like that again.

Rest assured, if he can do anything to prevent that from happening, he will.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes #bucky imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x y/n

40 notes · View notes

okay-j-hannah · 3 years

Text

That’s My Wife

Harry Potter : Fic

Charlie x Reader

Word Count: 3049

Warnings: SEXY TALK! Charlie is just all over you and your quidditch uniform 😂 Also I know I keep using different gifs for Charlie fics... I just look up ‘hot ginger man’ and pick one I like 🥰

Request: “Hey could I have a story where you are Charlie Weasleys wife and a professional quidditch player? In goblet of fire when they go to the world cup instead of Ireland vs Krum it's your team versus Krum and Charlie is so proud to have Weasley on your uniform and is showing you off to everyone and idk I really just think of Charlie as a very proud guy but humble. Thanks so much!” - Anon

A/N: There’s nothing quite like having your husband be your biggest supporter, especially with the Quidditch World Cup fast approaching

Shifting beneath the covers, (Y/N) sighed as her brain began to wake up. There were a number of thumps happening outside their bedroom and she groaned.

“Charlie?”

Thankfully, a hand came sneakily around her waist, pulling her to him, “What’s the point of apparating if we don’t even get to sleep in?”

“They’re excited,” (Y/N) replied in a quiet voice, keeping her eyes closed as she turned towards her husband, “And people are a bit careless when they’re tired.”

Footsteps could be heard going down the creaky stairs and (Y/N) peered behind Charlie to see that the moon was still basking their window. It had to have been nearly daybreak for the others to be up and about.

“I’ll have to get ready anyway,” she mumbled, resting back into Charlie’s embrace, “The team wants to do warmups and standard procedure before the majority of the crowds…”

Charlie suddenly held her tighter, silencing her with a grin, “Later, sweetheart – I won’t be able to see you all day. I want to hold you for a little while before you fly off.”

She couldn’t help the giggle that escape her with him cradling her against his chest. Though the World Cup was hours away, she knew her captain wouldn’t let her out of his sight until the game started. With the narrow win England made to be entered into the cup, there was immense pressure to deliver a swift and skillful victory for the team.

Being the rising star of “Quidditch Weekly,” there was a lot on (Y/N)’s shoulders to carry the team. It was that thought that began to swell within her when a sudden shout came from downstairs.

“George! What is that in your pocket?”

Charlie laughed low in his throat, his grisly morning voice doing it justice, “Looks like mum found those joke shop toffees.”

“Nothing!”

“Don’t you lie to me!”

(Y/N) took a deep breath, allowing Charlie’s natural scents relax her; worn leather, old newspaper, rain-soaked grass. She wasn’t quite sure what she was going to do without him giving her pep talks between penalty shots and time outs.

More than anything she wished he could be on the grounds with the referees instead of up in the stands.

With the anxiety filling her up as it usually did before a big game, she reached for his hand wrapped around her. Lacing their fingers together, she could feel him lean into her neck and plant a kiss behind her ear.

“You’re going to be incredible, sweetheart.”

She sighed into a smile, closing her eyes once more and allowing a few more moments of peace.

“Accio! Accio! Accio!” Came from downstairs, and she laughed out loud that time.

~~~

The sun crept higher and higher as the team lay on the pitch, doing stretches. Their captain Edric Vosper was pacing along the team benches.

“England hasn’t been a part of the Quidditch World Cup since 1981,” he intertwined his fingers in front of him, “And with us scraping that win against Transylvania last month… there’s too much at stake.”

“We know, Vosper,” came the voices of some of (Y/N)’s best friends – the beaters of the team, Dawn and Indira.

“We’ve had this same speech at every practice since that win,” (Y/N) added, smirking and straightening her arm braces, “I’m not sure there’s much else you can say to prepare us.” Her fellow chasers Avery and Keaton snickered behind their hands.

Vosper seemed at a loss of a comeback, finally sitting on one of the benches, “You’re right, of course. I just had a talk with Ludo Bagman and have basically every coin in my account betted for England being the winning team.”

“Why would you do that?” Dawn cried, slumping onto the grassy ground, “I’m worried enough about the game without knowing you’ll be broke if we lose.”

“And will probably have to crash at my place for the rest of the year,” Avery rolled his eyes.

Vosper put his face in his hands and took a deep breath, making the team all refrain from smiling sarcastically. (Y/N) stood and folded her arms, leaning forward slightly to speak.

“I say we take a break before the match starts – go enjoy some time with our families until the whistle blows.”

Keaton flexed his fingers, “Yeah, if I have to practice another quaffle pass I pretty sure my fingertips will snap.”

The team all laughed, evidently trying to make it as lighthearted as possible with the amount of pressure all nestled on their shoulders. (Y/N) secretly believed that a pep talk from all their close friends and family would motivate and improve the teams morale.

But she also knew that if she voiced that much of her opinion, then the players would just tease her about becoming the next great captain for the team. And she was too good of friends with Edric to make him doubt the authority of his position.

“Hey, guys, we’ve been practicing every day for weeks,” Indira stated, pulling a knee to her chest for a stretch. “Maybe enjoying our last meal with our families would relieve some stress.”

“Why are you saying it like we’ve all got death sentences? Our last meal?” Avery laughed, leaning over to push her away playfully.

She shrugged her shoulders, “Way to improve the mood, Hawksworth.”

The rest of the team laughed again, waiting for Vosper to lift his head from his hands. When he did he focused his attention to the opposing team across the quidditch pitch. The brutal Bulgarian team was conducting a number of routines with quaffle passes and snitch spotting.

They donned scarlet robes with black and gold lettering, which reminded (Y/N) of her Gryffindor house back at Hogwarts. It made her frown to see them arrogantly flashing those colors as they sped on their similarly tinted Firebolts.

Peering down at her own uniform, she relished in the bright white and complementary cherry red accents. The proud emblem of golden dragons blazoned the front and brought a fiery desire to beat Bulgaria with every bit of will power she had.

“I think we are over exhausting ourselves,” Vosper concluded, resting his elbows on his knees. “How about this – you all are free to do whatever you please until the match, as long as you deliver the Rowntree Counter.” He stared pointedly at (Y/N), saying, “If we can execute that as perfectly as you did with Transylvania, we’ll have this game in the bag.”

With slight hesitation, she gulped and nodded. She knew there were scouts in the crowd, recruiters that were looking for talent. If she could make a spotlight of their team, they could go far in quidditch history.

It was this thought that dwelled with her as she left the pitch and made her way through the crowds to find the tent grounds the Weasley’s had rented.

She quickly found herself distracted by numerous fans; now, with the sun newly risen and the mist lifting, she could see the city of tents that stretched in every direction. She made her way slowly through the rows, staring eagerly around.

Many of the campers were starting to wake up. First to stir were the families with small children; a tiny boy no older than two was crouched outside a large pyramid-shaped tent, holding a wand and poking happily at a slug in the grass, which was swelling slowly to the size of a salami.

“Excuse me, miss,” came a timid voice nearby, “Are you (Y/N) Weasley?”

She turned her shoulder and saw a young girl and boy standing on their tip toes and wringing their hands excitedly.

“Yes, ma’am, that’s me.”

“The chaser for England’s National team?” the boy added on, somewhat disregarding her previous response.

(Y/N) peered down at her uniform and shrugged her shoulders, “I’m pretty sure that’s what my robes say.”

There was a squeal behind her, and then another and another. Whispers, then shouts, began appearing all around her as exclamations said:

“Is that…?”

“Mum! It’s the England chaser!”

“She was on the cover of Quidditch Weekly yesterday.”

“Do you think I could get a signature?”

“Wait… (Y/N) Weasley?”

“I don’t have a quill… would she mind using my body paint?”

And it was twenty minutes before she was able to extract herself from the growing crowd. She had signed robes, arms, books, tents, and English flags with everything from paint to lipstick. There was even a little girl that bought a miniature figurine of (Y/N) that padded along her palm, even laughing the same full body laugh that (Y/N) usually did, which she signed the back of.

She had to apologize to everyone as she pushed through, saying she’d like to get to her family before the day was through. It didn’t stop the stares, gasps, and waves, but she was grateful for not being followed as closely anymore.

A short way farther on, she saw two little witches, who were riding toy broomsticks that rose only high enough for the girls’ toes to skim the dewy grass. Here and there adult wizards and witches were emerging from their tents to claim a breakfast. Some, with furtive looks around them, conjured fires with their wands; others were striking matches with dubious looks on their faces, as though sure this couldn’t work.

As she neared the other side of the fields, she noticed the colors changing drastically from black and scarlet to white and cherry. This new patch of tents were all covered with thick clusters of dragon themed décor; blue, red, and white flags flew all around the campers. Dragon kites, dragon statues, dragon emblems, dragon puppets, and even dragon hide was covering most other surfaces.

It really showed the loyalty, as well as the increase of more fans trying to get her attention. One began waving a moving poster of herself crossing her arms and smiling broadly. But just beyond she noticed the exact family she was looking for.

“Charlie!”

One of the redheads sitting around the morning fire stood and whipped around to see who was calling for him. When he spotted his beloved, he called out, urging her forward.

The nearer she got, she noticed that it wasn’t just the Weasley’s, Harry, and Hermione – Ludo Bagman and Mr. Barty Crouch were there too.

“I thought you were going to be on the pitch all day!” Charlie cried, reaching her and pulling her into a bone-crushing hug. “I wasn’t expecting to see you until after the game.”

She giggled happily as he lifted her enough that she was on her toes, “We convinced Vosper that we could use a break to gather our senses.” She nuzzled into his shoulder as they continued to hold each other close – that calming smell of rainfall and old, weathered book pages whelmed her again.

Charlie moved a hand to the side of her face where he could direct her attention to his eyes, “God, you’re so beautiful.”

She smiled, her eyes suspicious, “Even in this sweaty updo?”

“What can I say? I can’t resist a woman in uniform.” He gave her a seductive gaze and bit his lip, leaning his forehead against hers.

She moved her hands up his torso and around his neck, sighing deep in her chest, “Not until I knock Bulgaria on their ass.”

Charlie closed his eyes and breathed deeply, “You just got a whole lot sexier.” And he practically growled as he dipped for a kiss, a hungry kiss. The intensity took (Y/N) slightly off guard, accidentally pulling a moan out of her.

“Okay, woah, woah!” came the boisterous voices of Fred and George, “Lock it up, this isn’t your honeymoon.”

They could hear Ginny laughing with Bill, and Percy was muttering things like, “Right in front of Mr. Crouch,” under his breath.

“Now, Charlie,” Mr. Weasley stated in a nervously loud tone, “We’ve got guests.”

(Y/N) had to be the one to pull away, finding her breath was taken away by the moment. Charlie grinned and waved a hand over his shoulder.

“Paparazzi,” she muttered, “We’re surrounded by witnesses.”

“It would be ridiculous to hide my feelings for you, (Y/N). Why shouldn’t the public know we have a perfectly wonderful marriage.” He held her by her shoulders, “I’m proud to have you by my side, so what if the Daily Prophet knows we kiss… guess what? We’re married!”

She couldn’t help but laugh, “Still I’d like to keep a few things… hello!” Behind Charlie’s shoulder she could see the entire Weasley family, and guests, watching them closely.

Charlie twirled around and put an arm around (Y/N), “Mr. Crouch, Ludo – may I introduce my wife, (Y/N) Weasley. THE best chaser that England has known these last few years.”

Ludo Bagman, a jolly man with rosy cheeks and a boyish charm, stood immediately and came to shake hands, “An introduction long overdue I’m sure you feel as well. You know I’ve got a pretty penny on your head to get England the win tonight.”

“Us too,” Fred yelled over the many heads, “So don’t fall off your broom.”

“Oh, you’ve seen nothing until you’ve seen (Y/N) play on the pitch,” Charlie stated, leaning towards the group, “She’s like a snitch herself, whipping through the air.”

“Yes,” agreed Ludo, “The biggest hope England has had in over a decade.”

Charlie beamed, moving his loving gaze to his wife. He simply stood there admiring the praise and talent, silently wondering how it was possible she had chosen him to be her husband.

“Thank you, Mr. Bagman,” (Y/N) replied, “Though you should look at England as the team it is – I’m just one person; it takes all of us to win the cup.”

Charlie grinned even wider if it was possible. Admiration wasn’t enough to describe how in awe he was of her. It was like she was in total denial that she was plainly the one carrying the national team. Though it was incredibly endearing and only made him more in love with the fact that she was with him.

“Oh, please, don’t neglect your talents,” Ludo exclaimed, “We all know you were the one that got the qualification from the Transylvania win!”

“Even with that illegal shot by the bludger,” Ron interjected, sneaking the rest of Hermione’s breakfast sausages, “Those scheming, biased referees.”

Bill clapped his hands together, “This is exactly the problem, if we can’t find the right people to observe the field, then what’s the point of having good players? They’ll be disregarded completely with a biased referee!”

And the family continued the conversation of the prospects of the upcoming game. Percy and Mr. Weasley tried to continue remarks with Mr. Crouch before he left and shortly followed by Bagman.

And all Charlie could do was stare at his wife and wonder… wonder how he got so lucky.

~~~

She could hear the sounds of thousands of people moving around them, shouts and laughter, snatches of singing. The atmosphere of feverish excitement was highly infectious; Dawn and Avery couldn’t stop grinning.

The roaring voice of Ludo Bagman could be heard magically magnified across the sea of people.

“Ladies and gentlemen… welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!”

The spectators screamed and clapped. Thousands of flags waved, adding their discordant national anthems to the racket. A huge blackboard opposite them showed BULGARIA: 0, ENGLAND: 0.

After a presentation of entrancing Veela and a few soaring dragon fireworks, Ludo began to announce the Bulgarian quidditch team members; next came England.

“Presenting – Vosper, Frisby, Choudry, Withey, Flitney, Hawksworth, and Weasley!”

Seven gleaming robed players came whizzing out of the stands on white golden Firebolts. The Weasley family cheered and shook their top box voraciously.

“That’s her, that’s her!” yelled Charlie, waving his English flag and pushing into Bill and Ron. His brother followed her with his Omnioculars.

“Theeeeeeeey’re OFF!” screamed Bagman. “And it’s Weasley! Hawksworth! Flitney! Dimitrov! Back to Weasley! Hawksworth! Levski! Flitney!”

The speed of the players was incredible – the chasers were throwing the quaffle to one another so fast that Bagman only had time to say their names. Charlie reached over to fight Ron’s Omnioculars off him but failed as he heard the name Weasley again.

The chasers had fallen into their Rowntree Counter, their signature move. They flew into a straight dive as red, white, and blue colors came streaming out of the back of their brooms – signifying the flag of the United Kingdom.

They knocked two of the opposing Bulgarian players teetering on their brooms and distracted the beaters. Flitney passed the quaffle to Hawksworth, who kicked it around before passing it back to Weasley.

(Y/N) did a magnificent overhead kick into the hoop on the far left.

“WEASLEY SCORES!” roared Bagman, and the stadium shuddered with a roar of applause and cheers. “Ten zero to England!”

Charlie jumped and waved his arms, screaming himself hoarse, “THAT’S MY WIFE! WEASLEY IS MY WIFE!”

Bill reached over and stuffed his UK flag over Charlie’s face to shut him up, and Ginny laughed, giving him her white and red rosette.

(Y/N) did a lap of honor around the field and threw a kiss towards the top box where Charlie waved his hands toward her, “I love you, baby!”

The England chasers were superb. They worked as a seamless team, their movements so well coordinated that they appeared to be reading one another’s minds as they positioned themselves, and the rosette now on Charlie’s chest kept squeaking their names: “Flitney – Weasley – Hawksworth!” And within ten minutes, England had scored twice more, bringing their lead to thirty-zero and causing a thunderous tide of roars and applause from the white-clad supporters.

Charlie watched as (Y/N) performed miraculous moves toward the goal posts. The continuous overhead kicks, the usage of the butt-end of her broom like a beater bat, and the intense throw of her arm was mesmerizing.

Charlie yelled and screamed until his face turned red, shouting his praise for his wife. The other members in the top box had to accept the fact that Charlie wasn’t going to shut up about his incredible player on the field.

It was just a continuous strain of, “THAT’S MY WIFE!” with a splendid look of pride and admiration on his cheery face.

“WEASLEY IS MY WIFE!”

~~~

Tag List:

@caswinchester2000 @aria253264 @bippity-boppity-boopa @andreasworlsboring101 @oncemorewithfeelingg

Remember to check out my tag list so you’re updated when a fic you like is posted on my blog! Tag List

#charlie weasley #harry potter charlie #harry potter charlie weasley #charlie weasley x you #charlie #charlie weasley x reader #charlie weasley x #weasley #harry potter fandom #harry potter #wizarding world #charlie x reader #charlie weasley angst #charlie weasley fluff #charlie weasley love #harry potter and the goblet of fire #goblet of fire #quidditch #quidditch world cup

319 notes · View notes

kickingasssince98 · 3 years

Text

Ikèmen Vampire OC:

The Dark Temptor

Marquis de Sade

Birthday: June, 2nd

Zodiac Sign: Gemini

Height: 1.90 cm

Past Occupation: Nobleman & Libertine Novelist

Vampire Type: Lesser Vampire

"Do tell me all your sins, little dove. I can't erase them for you, but I sure can make you become proud of them..."

Background:

Donatien Alphonse François, also known simply as the Marquis de Sade, is a French nobleman, ex-revolutionary politician and philosopher who had became (in)famous for his scandalous erotic writings, which combined philosophical discourse with pornography, depicting sexual fantasies with an emphasis on violence, suffering, sodomy, crime, and blasphemy against religion.

De Sade spent almost half of his life in jail and later in an insane asylum as punishment for his freedom of thinking, but he was revived as a vampire by his old friend, le Comte de Saint-Germain, and brought to live in the 19th century together with him and his other well known historical residents.

Detached, indifferent and covered in mystery, De Sade seems like a very unapproachable man.

However, even the Devil himself was once a beautiful angel...

Appearence:

Messy neck-lenght, strawberry red hair with silver gray bangs

Tall and well-built

Eye color: Charcoal black

Has a long scar over his right eye

Black cross piercings in both his ears as a mocking simbolism to the fact that he's a vampire and that the cross had been used in the past by the romans as a torture device

Personality:

I will start this up mentioning that De Sade is not everyone's cup of tea most often than not. He's a very difficult person to be around to at first. He came back to life full of barely surpressed anger thanks to the trauma of his past, seeking out and picking fights just for the sake of it. So don't be too surprised to find out that he's not getting along with anyone in the mansion, not even with the sweetheart that is Vincent van Gogh and that is saying a lot...

Spiteful. He has a personal beef with Napoleon especially, due to the fact that our boy Leon, when he was the emperor, was the one who ordered the arrest of the anonymous author of the infamous novels "Justine" and "Juliette" and imprisoned him without a trial. De Sade is not the one to forgive and forget that easily...

But he's very intelligent and wise

Rafined and full of grace...

Listen... Thanks to him the term "sadism" was invented. He's yandere self is top notch and can make Shakespeare feel like a walk in the park any day, so choose your battles carefully around this guy

Sarcastic most of the time

And he's a man of a few words. Doesn't like to waste his breath and time explaining himself and is very anti-social

On the reverse of the coin, if you get to know him better, you gonna find out that he's a very sad and depressed person

Wanting nothing more than someone to accept him with all his flaws and traumas, someone who's willing to not judge him for the simple fact that he just wanted to explore the nature of the humanity with all its darkness and sins and speak freely about it...

Hobbies:

Writing, philosophy, politics, dancing waltz, taking long walks on the garden at midnight

Likes:

Fine clothes, luxury, comfortable and cosy beds

Dislikes:

The taste of champagne, birds, hypocrisy, being restrained to can't speak his mind directly

In Love:

Like I said above, Donatien is a very difficult person to approach at times due to his rough past. But this doesn't mean that, when a certain little human lady walks into the mansion through that mysterious door just Le Comte seems to use it, he's not as curious and interested like the rest of the vampires. Actually, he's the second character MC meets after Napoleon.

Picture it (Sicily, 1922... Lol, jk, but if you know, you know😉) after hiding behind a curtain, Napoleon's trying to find a way to help her out... Only to meet the owner of the footsteps that had made Leon going into hiding in the first place. A long arm coated in dark green velvet reach out, leaning its palm on the wall next to MC and Napoleon's heads, cutting their way of exit, a tall shadow looming over them

"My, my... And what do we have here? Why, Vôtre Majesté... the handsome man with bloody red hair who the arm belonged to couldn't help a sardonic grin to lift up a corner of his mouth. Sneaking mistresses into the house at night? I must say, I have expected this from that dim wit of a womanizer, but from you? I'm shocked really... Speechless"

From that encounter alone you're in for one hell of an emotional roller-coaster.

You can't help it but being attracted and fascinated by his darkness from the beginning...

Lots of angst? Sure. Lots of drama? You can bet. His dark eyes, black as the sins his at fault for, hides more than just harsh and mean, empty words to keep himself at distance.

If he falls in love, De Sade will give gladly and selfless everything that he is to you. He's a yandere so expect to be super possessive with you, to want you for himself.

He will tie and bond you to him (sometimes literally if you're into this, after all he's one of the pioneers of bdsm *wink*), keeping you safely into his arms, cuddling and opening his heart to you as time goes by and your relationship evolves into one of full intimacy

He'll respect and seek for you, adore you and protect you with all that he has, you're his world, his one and only true love that he ever known...

Trivia/Fun facts:

The long, ugly scar he have on the right side of his eye is the result of an old fight he got himself into in his "glory days" as a convict in Bastille. He might tell you the story if he trust you well enough

After all the years living in prison, sleeping on cold floors covered in rotten hay, smelling of igrasion and wearing a rag of a jail uniform, De Sade developed almost an obsession for fine stuff like clothes and smooth, cosy and so comfortable beds that he can feel himself sinking into them, things that offers him comfort, warmth and a sense of safety

He's one hell of a ballroom dancer, waltz being a personal favorite. If you're invited to a ball in the 19th century make sure to ask him for dancing lessons, you won't regret it. He'll make you a pro in a blink of an eye :)))

Even though he appears like a total jerk and some people will state that he is a real, scandalous monster, he can be a real charmer if (and when) he wants. He's a nobleman after all, he's a gentleman by default and can easily rival Le Comte smooth attitude if he cares to show his true colors to the right person

Being brought back to life as a vampire haven't made De Sade wanting to blend in with his new existence so he hadn't even bothered trying to find a new identity like his other house mates had for themselves. He prefer to go by his title of birth and if someone asks him out of pure curiosity he is his own "descendent". He's amused that even to this days some pleope whispers about him - his "ancestor" - with fear and contempt

He posess a ball python snake as a pet that goes by the name of Jaunir and De Sade has a real sadistic pleasure to let her roam around the house to scare the other residents. Sometimes you can see him wearing Jaunir roped around his neck like a scarf

#cybird #ikemen series #ikevamp oc #ikemen comte #ikemen jean #ikemen leonardo #ikemen mozart #my oc writing

47 notes · View notes

hoaxsen · 3 years

Text

| happy [ late ] new years to one and all <3.

| here's some Levi angst.

| word count; 1,684

I'm coming home.

" Promise me to stay alive? "

" I always do, runt. You better promise me. "

" I promise. "

Not all promises were made to be kept, either from the fact that they're broken almost instantly. Or they can't be kept at all, just empty words being said to fill the dead air created from the promise being said.

Words that people take so seriously, as if they'd truly mean something. They're supposed to mean something, right? Supposed to mean the world to the people who created this. End it off with pinkies interlocking, like a kid friendly way of signing off a piece of your soul.

A piece that you'll never get back. Discarded along with the broken seal, like as if finding a product in a store open. Needs to be thrown out.

I'm coming home.

" This expedition might get us even further in taking back for humanity. "

" Don't get your hopes up, just focus on coming back alive. . .please. "

" I promised, didn't I? "

You did, you promised Levi Ackerman an entire world in that one small and simple line.

But that universe didn't hold up for long, it collapsed along with the small space of an open heart he had. This expedition was supposed to be clean and simple, Erwin said. It was supposed to run flawlessly, as he's promised time and time again. But failed to keep, this entire mission wasn't supposed to end this way. His new formation was supposed to have fewer casualties, little to no accidents should everyone follow pursuit.

This time, that wasn't the case. The case that had opened and started it's cruel trial was the one happening here and now.

The weight of it feeling like a star going supernova inside his heart. Though since that pressure was trapped inside so tightly, there was no way for it to be let out. The captain shut down, his mind going blank and his eyes looking vacant as he drunk in the news.

Tell the world I'm coming home.

" They. . .were caught in the hands of a titan, sir. "

You weren't alive, not here to keep your end of the promise as he did with his. Not here to tell Levi that it was a mistake, they mistook you for someone else. That wasn't the ordeal, as much as he wished it was. All in his mind, playing on loop over and over was a silly little promise made before this. Of course it wouldn't have been kept, not in a world like this. A world where humanity is now at the bottom of the food chain, cornered like wounded animals.

The captain of the Survey Corps dared not to let his heart leap out of his chest. The man dared not to shed a single tear in front of his comrades. This was the norm, he'd had to chant to himself like a prayer on a broken record over and over for the silver lining to not shine through. Hold it back all the way until he was behind closed doors, locked so tight that letting it all out wouldn't be a problem. So that his regiment could probably see, that even their captain was at this game long enough to realize not every little thing was going to last.

A captain in front of everyone else, a human with emotions while being alone. That's how he wanted to treat this, tricking himself into thinking that's how he needed to treat this.

Should he have looked on that cart, pulling the fallen soldiers back to the safety of the walls. Levi knew he would have let that dam overflow with the sounds of a heart aching lover.

This expedition became the very reason why he loathed titans more. Becoming the very reason why, he started having doubts in his Commander.

I know my kingdom awaits.

The freshly dug hole waited for you alright back in Wall Rose. Somewhere maybe just outside the Krolva district, they called this place The Scouts Yard.

How this one patch of land that could have been used for anything else, soon started becoming overtaken by the bodies of his fallen companions from their ongoing war.

Now it houses your body.

The weather of the day was a stark contrast of his mood, the sun was shining with a few small thin clouds in the sky. A pity really, he thought that whatever God was out there might knew how to read a room. Levi slowly got down onto his knees to read the words on the new tombstone.

Here lies; Y/N L/N.

The ravenette couldn't bring himself to read the rest, already biting down his tongue to distract himself from the stinging of tears in his eyes. Hands clenched into fists at his side, his nails threatening to dig into his skin and draw blood. The dirt that was gathering at the knees of his uniform was going unnoticed.

' You promised me, idiot! How could you break it!? '

That broken promise lead you into a new world, a world of dirt under the earth. Was it like the hellhole he escaped from? Or was it better than the underground life? Except, there was no stairway fee. It was like your citizenship of this messed up surface world was revoked. Tarnished. Never to be used anymore. Torn away as if it were a fake and the MP's of that world came to collect you.

The grey orbs of the Ackerman were starting to itch and pulse with the amount of restraint he was using to not let himself cry. Levi's breathing changed into one of a heavy, and broken up pattern.

All he could think about was not here, not where people could see him at his weakest. Not at his lowest.

A hand being placed on his shoulder brought him out of his trance. Looking up, he saw none other than the man he promised himself to follow.

That's funny, huh? How he promised you he'd stay alive if you did, and how he promised himself to follow after your murderer. Every. Step. Of. The. Way. His life he placed in Erwin's hands, the same hands that weren't big enough to take your life into consideration. His own captain snapped at him, pushing his hand away harshly. Grey hues glaring ever so harshly at what seemed to be confused blue orbs.

Levi stood up to his full height, giving Erwin the greatest stare down of his existence. The commander taking a step back to retaliate, as if he were the victim.

" Levi- "

" This. Is your fault. "

Levi left Erwin with that, not catching how the commander suddenly got the hint, staring down at your grave.

And they've forgiven my mistakes.

Was it a mistake, to have broken a promise in this cruel and fucked up world? Was it really? You could catch Levi pacing the shared room with this thought in mind.

His side of the room was a complete and total mess. Just like his office, papers everywhere, wooden chair pieces scattered over his floor. Yet, should any piece debris get over to your side, Levi is cleaning it like a mad man. Leaving everything the way you had it before, hoping to preserve what he could of your memory.

Thinking it would bring a sense of calm to his nerves. All it brought uneasiness, abandonment, and a whole battalion of negative emotions that started attacking and swirling inside him. He almost questioned if this was how titans felt when their ends were coming to a near. A silly question, one used to try and distract himself. Not like it was helping in any shape or form, just made him feel worse. Useless even.

' Did I even say ' I love you enough ' ? Did I show them that I cared? Did I do enough before their time came!? '

A sob left him, loud and clear as day. Almost turning into another moment of pure wails and tears. The man was pretty sure he showed enough emotion, even when he tried and didn't really know how. Tried his best not to be closed off and buried in his work twenty-four/seven. He felt like screaming and sobbing this time. Was he even enough for you before death? If he wasn't so tired and dehydrated from doing the said act maybe about twenty minutes prior, Levi would have let the entirety of Wall Rose know his pain.

Eyes bloodshot from the onslaught attack of tears that kept pouring over from his once shining metallic eyes. How many cups of tea had he had? That somehow didn't end up as glass shards beneath his boots. For once, the mess didn't bother him, his promise to stay clean was broken. Just like almost everything else. One promise he made out of this shit, was to kill each and every titan. Then show Erwin that they're human, not just soldiers waiting to throw away their lives for bastard nobles.

Those were promises he couldn't break. Along with not forgetting you, a bittersweet reminder on how everyone precious leaves his life one way or another. No amount of rain in the world could wash away that pain.

Here now sat the Scouts' captain, sitting up against a heavy locked wooden door, holding what was your cloak from the expedition. Levi couldn't bring himself to clean it, the red of your blood, or maybe someone else's stained and clashed with the green. Making it a murky, dark, and odd color, Levi clutched it to his chest. His stray fallen tears turning the fabric a darker shade of its color.

" I promise you, brat. . .I'll be coming back home alive. "

Not all promises could be kept, just words to fill the dead silent air that was created. Reminders that it could always be broken in the least expected amount of time, in the most hurtful way. A stupid way to sign off a piece of your soul and hope for the better.

Tell the world that I'm coming home.

Levi Ackerman, was now no stranger to it.

#shingeki no kyoujin levi #levi aot #levi attack on titan #levi angst #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #attack on titan angst #angst

82 notes · View notes

manunelle · 3 years

Text

Black

Part 1: Red

Synopsis:

I am sure that she does not want to see me.”

He stared at the basket, contemplating the idea of decorating it with a ribbon. Maybe it would make her happy? But...What was her favorite color?

“And why not?”

“Because she doesn’t…Because I don’t…”

Why not?

I started writing the second part of Red soon after I finished it, but I never had the time to finish it. I found it on my cellphone and decided to finish it. It’s supposed to be a three chapter fanfiction, so look foward a part 3!

I hope you guys enjoy it!

TW: Mention of prostitution and prejudice towards disabled people.

Blanc left the room, trying to hide his tiredness and shock. He raised his head slowly, staring at the two brothers with a gaze that showed many emotions- among them, disappointment.

“Is she asleep?” Jonah asked, anxiously tightening the package he held between his hands.

Luka observed him quickly, straightening his back in an attempt to show firmness. He could’ve managed it, if it weren’t for his shaking hands.

“Yes, she just dozed off. Oliver is inside there with her, so there’s nothing to worry about.” He took his glasses off his face, wiping them delicately with a handkerchief. “Anything else?”

Luka and Jonah looked at each other, unsure of what to say.

During a whole month, The Black and Red armies discussed the Alice case. Lancelot had made it clear that the girl would stay with the Red Army, returning to the Land of Reason as soon as the full moon reached the sky. Obviously, Ray and his companions went against this idea, demanding that the young woman was put under the care of the Black Army. Only when Blanc and Oliver interfered on the matter that it was decided that Alice would stay with them, on neutral ground.

Nobody asked her anything. Actually, since the incident, no word left her lips. Kyle and Jonah tried to cheer her up with motivational speeches and pastries brought from town, Fenrir and Seth did their best to try to coach laughs from her, but, in any cases, no emotion appeared on her face. She only stared at them with an empty gaze, her pink lips pressed in a tight line. Just like a doll.

“Won’t you guys need help?” Jonah asked, bringing Luka back to the present. “I-I can send one of my men to help. Or I could!” Luka felt surprise run through his body; never in his life had he seen Jonah act in such a way.

“No, no. It won’t be necessary.”

“But won’t you need to carry her? To bath her, dress her, and even to take her on walks….Won’t it be too much for you two?” He looked nervously at Luka, as if demanding support from him. “We two can help!”

Normally, Luka would be angry for being involved without being consulted before, but, at that moment, he only agreed with Jonah, nodding quickly. He would do anything to help.

“It won’t be necessary.” Blanc laughed, a fake laugh. “This old man still has some strength on his body. And Oliver will be here to help me...Everything will be okay.” Suddenly, his smile disappeared, a serious expression forming on his face. “So, you two need to go. I am sure that, for now, the young lady needs distance from anyone that is involved with both armies.”

Oh.

Luka nodded robotically, cold sweat running down his nape. He turned his back to his brother and the record keeper, walking slowly towards the door.

“I-I-” He heard Jonah clearing his throat, trying to pretend that his stutter was nothing but an itch on his throat. “I brought this for her...Hah, I don’t even know if she likes it.”

Luka heard the noise of the package being passed to Blanc, but he didn’t turn back to see what it was. When he was in front of the door, Blanc answered calmly.

“I am sure that she will enjoy the Mille Feule, Jonah.”

Hah.

How ridiculous.

…………

Another full moon had passed, and Alice was still in Cradle.

Luka did not know her true name, nor her age, or what she liked to do and not even if she wanted to stay in wonderland. He hadn’t visited her since she started living with the White Rabbit, feeling intimidated by the disappointed look on Blanc’s face and by Oliver’s insults and, above all, the empty look of the woman.

Fenrir and Seth visited the record keeper’s house every day- always without their army uniforms. Sometimes, Ray accompanied them, and even Sirius joined them once, taking flowers and desserts to try to raise her spirits.

He heard from Sirius that Kyle and Zero also visited her regularly, the first to check on her condition, and the second to help Blanc and Oliver on her time outside, guiding her wheelchair (a gift from Oliver) around calm places, with few people around. God, even Jonah went to visit the foreign woman. Fenrir had told him that there were many times that they arrived at the residence and found the Queen of Hearts and Alice chatting calmly and sharing pastries that she could not eat alone.

Even if knew all this, Luka didn’t have the courage to visit Alice. Every night he repeated to himself that he would visit her tomorrow, that tomorrow would be the day that he would apologize to her. But, every single morning, he’d hide between excuses to not fulfill his promises.

He really was a pathetic person.

………

“You should come too.” Sirius said, a serious look, almost disapproving, on his face. “It’s the least you can do for her.”

Luka sighed, putting some Cinnamon Rolls that he had baked this morning on a basket.

“I am sure that she does not want to see me.”

He stared at the basket, contemplating the idea of decorating it with a ribbon. Maybe it would make her happy? But...What was her favorite color?

“And why not?”

“Because she doesn’t…Because I don’t…”

Why not?

He looked away from Sirius’ eyes, trying to escape from the judgement and disappointment that only existed on his head. Shoving the basket full of pastries and fruits at Sirius' arms, Luka left the kitchen, ignoring Sirius' attempt of calling him back.

Why not?

………

Luka only visited Blanc’s house six months later. A month before, they had finally discovered the whole truth about Lancelot and Amon, joining forces and defeating the ill-intent man. Now, both armies were busy with dealing with the aftermaths of the war, working together to reconstruct their country and look after it.

However, because everybody was so busy, no one had time to visit the young lady that came from the land above.

Yes, she was still there.

After half a year.

Why?

To be honest, he didn’t want to come, but when neither Sirius’ pleas nor Jonah’s invitations convinced him, Ray just used his position as his King and ordered him to pay a visit to the record keeper. So, of course, he was obliged to obey.

Deep down, he was kind of glad that Ray had done it. He finally had a reason to go see the woman. To apologize.

But why was he so scared? So nervous?

Finally reaching the house, he knocked on the door softly, hoping that neither Blanc nor Oliver would hear it. Unfortunately, the door swung open, a familiar small boy glaring at him.

“Hello, Oliver.”

“Hello, Oliver.” He imitated, mocking him. He crossed his arms, still glaring at Luka as if he was some kind of bug. “Are you going to stay there the whole day or tell me what you want? I don’t have all day, y’know.”

“Hm, Ray asked me to drop this.” He raised the box of homemade cupcakes, showing it to Oliver. “And to check if you guys aren’t having any difficulties with...with…”

“With?” Oliver narrowed his eyes, his glare intensifying.

Luka gulped, squeezing the box with his gloved fingers.

Before he could continue, the record keeper appeared, smiling brightly when he saw Luka.

“And here I was wondering what was taking Oliver so long…” He said, patting the boy’s head. Oliver slapped him away, outraged. “Hello, Luka. It’s been a long time, huh?”

“Yes.” He answered, simply.

Blanc’s smile widened.

“Please, enter! It’s almost tea time.”

He did as he was asked, handing the cupcakes to Blanc, who thanked him and left him sitting in front of the tea table. Oliver had gone back to whatever he was doing before, so now he was all alone.

He kept looking around anxiously, looking for a sign of her existence, be it an object of her person itself. Blanc entered the room, carrying a steaming teapot.

“Is earl grey to your taste?” He asked, and Luka nodded quietly. Blanc smiled, filling his cup with the delicious-smelling liquid. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

He raised the cup to his lips, eyeing Blanc with expectation. Would he bring her in the room? Would she have tea with them? Would they talk?

Would he finally be able to apologize?

However, instead of Alice, Blanc brought a tray of cookies and the homemade cupcakes that Luka had baked, setting it on the table.

“Oliver, come and join us!” He shouted, and Luka almost protested. Blanc turned his attention back to him, moving his own cup towards his lips. “And how have you been, Luka?”

“Fine.”

“Is everything alright at the army? Have they been treating you well?” Oliver entered the room, sitting on the chair next to Blanc. He glared at Luka, not stopping even when Blanc elbowed him on the arm.

“Yes, everyone’s really kind.” He said, sipping the warm tea. “Ray and Fenrir sent their regards.”

“Oh, how kind of them.” Blanc said, snatching a cookie from the tray and munching on it.

Calmly, Luka set his cup on the saucer. Feeling his heart jumping desperately on his chest, he moved his gaze to Blanc, who quirked both eyebrows, surprised.

“What is it, Lu-

“Blanc-san, how is...How is…” He really wanted to ask it, he really wanted to. But he had no idea what her name was, and calling her Alice sounded so very wrong. “How is she?” He finally asked, his hands trembling on his lap.

Blanc smiled softly, understanding the cause of his nervosism. He stopped chewing on the cookie, setting it beside his cup.

“Do not worry, young lad.” He comforted Luka, Oliver scoffing at his side. “She is much better, that I can assure you.”

“Oh, yes, much better.” Oliver mocked, receiving a side-eyed glare from Blanc.

“Better than when she arrived, Oliver.”

“Right, at least now she talks to us, huh?” He sneered, and Luka winced. The disgust and outrage was clear on his voice. “Now she’s more docile, right? Now she doesn’t act like a freak, so that’s good, huh? Now she can go back to that good for nothing land as if nothing happened, right? Everything will be the same, huh? That’s what you guys have been telling her since it happened, so of course it’s the truth.”

Luka lowered his gaze, ashamed.

Oliver raised himself from his chair, the object falling on the floor.

“Of course that’s bullshit!” He shouted, his fist connecting with the table and making the other two jump. “Of course that’s not true! There’s no way that she can go back to her life. She will be treated like a freak! She won’t be able to work, no one will want to job a legless woman. She has no family up there, so there’s no one that can provide and take care of her! In the end, the only job that she will be able to take is at night-

“Oliver, that’s enough!” Blanc shouted back, also rising from his chair. They glared at each other, Blanc with an intimidating look and Oliver out of breath. “Do you want her to hear you?” He hissed, and Oliver hid his face behind one hand, as if realizing what he had just done.

The two sat back, a horrible silence taking the room.

Luka knew nothing about the Land of Reason. He wasn’t close to Oliver, and he never had a conversation with the woman to know what kind of place they came from. However, a country that didn’t care about their people was not what he expected. Actually, it was far from it.

Blanc sighed, smiling fakely at Luka.

“Luka, please inform the King of Spades that young Charlotte will be staying with us permanently.” He said, sipping the tea that was probably cold by now. “We’ll also inform the King of Hearts about it.”

He nodded, only to show that he had heard what Blanc said.

“Please, don’t make that face.”

He nodded again, placing both hands on the table and rising from the chair.

“Hm, I think I should go.”

“What? So soon? Please, stay a bit more.”

“No...I have some things to attend to. I was just passing by.”

Oliver and Blanc looked at each other, seeing through his lie.

“But...don’t you want to see her?” Blanc asked, and Luka’s heart jumped. “She’s upstairs, napping. But she’s probably awake by now...I’m sure she would enjoy your company.”

He looked back at Blanc, shaking. The man smiled gently, but Luka averted his gaze again, closing his hand into fists.

“No. I really need to go.”

Silence.

“Oh. Okay.” He said, simply, disappointment clear on his voice.

He guided Luka to the door, seeing him off.

Only when he reached the gates of the Black Army that he felt the tears starting to stream through his face. Sirius saw him from a distance, running towards him when he fell on his hands and knees, an animalistic sob leaving his lips.

He really was a coward.

A coward.

#ikemen revolution #ikerev #fanfiction #cybird #my writing #Black #Red #please read the warnings

20 notes · View notes

sodalitefully · 3 years

Text

Santa Slash is coming to town...

This fic is the Christmas-themed spiritual successor to my Easter Bunny AU. Special thanks to @slashscowboyboots for supporting all my holiday nonsense!

Four snapshots from Slash’s Christmas prep marathon through the years:

🎄🎄🎄🎄

Jingle bells.

Fucking jingle bells.

There were FIFTEEN of them on the stupid-fucking-candy-colored costume he had to wear at this godforsaken excuse for a seasonal job. “Earn some extra cash,” they said. “It’s easy, you barely have to do anything,” they said. "You'll be perfect, you already look the part!" they said.

"They are about to find a size-ten jingle-toed bootie up their ass,” Axl said – to himself, as he rushed into the storage room turned "dressing room" and buttoned up his itchy red and green vest with one hand while sipping an Orange Julius from the food court with the other.

“Hey, Axl! You’re barely late today, awesome!”

And then there was this weirdo.

Axl could not for the life of him explain why a shopping mall in Indiana elected to hire a skinny dude in his 20s with a dark complexion and a nose ring to portray Saint Nick himself, but whatever the reason, Axl was stuck working with this fruitcake until Christmas Day. Sure Slash was nice enough (oh yeah, and his name was Slash, or at least that's how he introduced himself without offering any explanation or even a last name), but he was way too enthusiastic about getting paid minimum wage to let strange kids sit in his lap at a grimy old shopping mall.

Uh, not in a weird way, Slash was good with the kids, really. But sometimes... it seemed like he was taking his role a little too seriously.

"How come you don't have a beard?" the first customer of Axl's shift, a little girl in a Tweety bird sweater and blonde pigtails, asked suspiciously.

"That's a good question,” Slash said, scratching at his bare chin. The neck of his Motörhead Beyond the Threshold of Pain Tour T-shirt was visible over the faux fur collar of the Santa costume, and his shiny black boots clearly came from a military surplus store. “I get asked that a lot but the truth is, it just isn't a flattering look, trust me. I tried it once, and the elves could barely look at me in the eye." To Axl’s incredulity, the girl actually accepted that answer. "Now tell me, what would you like for Christmas this year, sweetheart?"

As usual, Axl tuned out at this point. Fake a smile for the overprotective parents, take the painfully awkward commemorative photograph, try not to look like he would rather die than hear Slash try to gently explain that Santa will probably not be delivering a pony this year one more damn time, rinse and repeat – until about an hour later, when the unthinkable happened.

The less said about about the incident, the better. Suffice to say, one of the darling angels tossed his Christmas cookies, and some of the resulting mess wound up soaking into the front of Axl’s elf costume. As if he needed another reason to hate his job; this was just adding insult on top of injury (that is, the injury to Axl’s pride as a result of being forced to wear the most ridiculous-looking costume he’s ever had the misfortune of laying eyes on).

“That’s it. I quit.” He grabbed the elf cap off his head and slammed it on the ground, then stormed through the exit gate past the sign wishing customers a "Holly Jolly Holiday Season," the bells on his costume ringing merrily as he stomped his feet.

“Hey, wait!”

“No,” Axl growled, but he did turn around to look back at Slash, still sitting in the plastic candy-cane throne unbothered by the mess or the sniffling child now mostly placated by a peppermint candy. "What."

Slash offered him a bright, beguiling smile.

"What do you want for Christmas, Axl?"

-----

Nothing said "holiday cheer" like wandering the tinsel-adorned labyrinth that was a Walmart superstore a week before Christmas, with Paul McCartney's "Wonderful Christmastime" echoing through the tinny PA system and surrounded by other last-minute vultures hopelessly scavenging the picked-over aisles.

In Izzy's defense, he actually finished all his shopping early this year, for once. But then his two little brothers begged him to drive them around town to find the perfect gift for a girl at school that they apparently both had a crush on, and like a fool he agreed.

He was regretting it now. Anything would be better than subjecting himself to nearly an hour of top-40 Christmas music. The jingle bells were jingling, the carolers were caroling, the B-list pop stars were spitting out god-awful covers of Christmas classics, and don’t even get him started on the commercials.

He wasn't about to walk around in public with his fingers shoved in his ears (at least, he wasn't that desperate yet), but he did squeeze his eyes shut and pinch the bridge of his nose, trying to force himself to relax. Just take deep breaths and think of The Rolling Stones...

"Hey, uh, you doing okay?"

Izzy opened his eyes reluctantly. In front of him was a young man wearing a concerned expression and a Santa hat, stuffed onto a massive pile of dark curls.

"I'm fine. Just finding out if it's possible to die from overexposure to Christmas music."

"Ahhh." The man nodded in understanding. "It's not, unfortunately. I've tested it, trust me."

"Do you work here or something?" Izzy asked. A leather jacket and ripped jeans didn't look like an employee uniform, but his hat matched the store decor and he didn't have a cart or shopping basket.

"No, I'm actually a seasonal distributor. Just checking in to make sure everything's in place before that last holiday rush, you know? Shit always gets crazy at the last minute."

"Tell me about it," Izzy responded, as if he knew a thing about marketing as a cynical 16-year-old. But he had first-hand experience with last-minute crises, and as if to prove it, his brothers came running up to him at that moment.

"Jeff! We can't find anything good, what should we do?"

"What's the problem?" the stranger in a Santa hat asked, looking genuinely concerned.

"We don't know what present to get for a girl at school," the boys explained.

"Hmm..." He tapped at his chin. "Why don't you just – oh wait, you're underage. Well, how about you bake her some cookies or something? That's what everyone does for me and I have no complaints."

Desperate to remove himself from this musical hell, Izzy jumped on the idea. "Yeah, you could do sugar cookies! And decorate them like horses, she likes horses right?” The boys had only mentioned that a dozen times; Izzy was starting to wonder if this girl even had any other personality traits.

To his relief, a spark lit up in his brothers' eyes. Cookies were a perfect idea, and suddenly they were dragging him away to look at cookie cutters and sprinkles.

Izzy turned around to shoot the helpful stranger a grateful look, but when he looked back, the man had disappeared with no trace, leaving not even a furry white pompom behind.

-----

Slash glanced out the window and grimaced – it was cold as a witch’s big bouncy tit outside, nothing but snow and ice as far as the eye could see. He pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders and took another swig of hot Irish coffee. Damn the North Pole, there was a reason he took his summer vacations in Malibu.

But despite the miserable work conditions, Slash was nothing if not dedicated to his job. In front of him was a sack overflowing not with toys but with the most recent letters to Santa, straight from the North Pole's post office. With Christmas only a few days away, his daunting task was to go through the whole mountain of letters as quickly as possibly in order to take their special requests into consideration before it was time to start loading up the sleigh.

Well, there was no time like the present to get started. Slash stretched his back and got comfortable in his coziest armchair (by throwing his legs over one armrest and slouching until his head rested on the other), absentmindedly tapping the end of his peppermint stick on the edge of an ashtray. He grimaced when he brought the stick back to his lips and realized his mistake.

With a sigh, he dropped the peppermint stick back in the ashtray already full of cigarette butts and ruined candies, and unfolded the first letter. In barely legible green marker, the message read:

Dear Santa Claus,

My name is Steven and I'm 5 years old. Please give me a skateboard for Christmas. My brother has one and he won't let me borrow it to learn tricks.

Hmmm. Five years old was a little young for a skateboard. Knowing Steven, he'd probably knock his teeth out by New Year's...

...Slash shrugged. Why not? All things considered, he would have killed for a skateboard when he was five, so who was he to say no?

-----

Duff was seven years old when his older brothers cornered him in the backyard and gleefully informed him that Santa Claus was a fraud. It was all a lie made up by parents to convince their children to behave during the year, they explained, and the toys were made on factory lines not by magical elves. Their mother gave them a hell of a scolding afterwards but it was too late, the deed could not be undone.

He tried to play it cool, but the truth was, Duff was very distraught as Christmas Eve inched closer. Could his siblings be right? He didn't want to believe it, but if he was being honest with himself, he'd suspected as much for some time. He braced himself to accept the hard truth come Christmas Eve – but only if he was presented with definitive proof.

When the fateful night finally came, Duff and two of his brothers laid out their sleeping bags behind the couch, where they'd be hidden from view if anyone tried to approach the Christmas tree. They all swore not to fall asleep, not even for a second until Christmas morning... And it wasn't until his brother started snoring that Duff realized he was the only one still awake and silently anticipating the moment of truth.

It was imperative, of course, that he stayed hidden and didn't make a sound, or else risk giving their plot away. But... it was past midnight, dinner was hours ago and Duff's empty stomach was starting to distract him from the task at hand. He couldn't stop thinking about all the food he would get to eat with his family on Christmas Day: the glazed ham, mashed potatoes, apple pie and Christmas cookies...

In the dim light, Duff could just barely make out the plate of cookies for Santa, waiting in front of the tree. The cookies were still there untouched, all six of them... Surely no one would notice if Duff ate just one?

He tiptoed over his sleeping siblings, as silent as the snow falling outside, making his way around the sofa to the plate on the coffee table. But just as he reached out to pluck a gingerbread man from the assortment, he saw a shadow of movement out of the corner of his eye. There, beside the Christmas tree in the flickering glow of multicolored string lights, was a mysterious figure in a fur-lined coat and a red cap.

Duff stared at the intruder, slack-jawed. The cookie clattered back onto the dish, and at the noise the stranger whirled around to face him.

"Duff! What are you doing still awake?" he demanded. Duff took a breath to answer – or more likely to ask how the man knew his name – but before he could, the man peered over the couch, narrowed his eyes and frowned. "Oh I see what this is. You thought you would catch your parents pretending to be me!" he accused. "Well, here's the real truth: adults are always wrong and you should never do what they say!"

The man – could he really be Santa Claus? – he planted his leather-gloved hands on his hips as he scolded Duff. "And don't even get me started on teenagers..." he griped, casting a stare over Duff's shoulder where his older brother's leg was sticking out from behind the couch, tangled in a blanket.

Tears started to well up in Duff's eyes.

"Please still give them Christmas presents! I know they said they don't believe in you, but they've been good, I promise!" he begged. Santa's expression softened.

"Aw, I know, kid. I promise they'll still get their presents, alright? Let me just finish up here and then maybe you can help me out with those cookies, sound good?"

Placated, Duff sniffled and nodded, scrubbing his eyes with his sleeve. He hopped onto the sofa, swinging his feet and watching with awe as Santa pulled beautifully wrapped gifts out of seemingly nowhere and stacked them around the tree, one after another until all eight of the McKagan children were represented. He took a step back to take in his handiwork, made a few minor adjustments, then turned back to Duff: “Voila! That’s the magic of Christmas. Now pass me that plate, would you?”

Santa sat down next to Duff and propped his boots up on the coffee table. When Duff held out the plate of cookies, he selected one decorated to look like Santa Claus, white beard and all, and promptly bit its head off.

“I love my job, but delivering presents is exhausting,” he sighed, accepting a glass of milk from Duff’s outstretched hand. “I’ve already covered Asia, Africa, Europe, and most of the Americas, so I’d say I’m due for a break. Cheers, Duff.” He held up his glass and Duff tapped it with his half-eaten cookie.

“To a merry Christmas and a happy New Year!”

🎄🎄🎄🎄

#which sounds better:#santa slash or slash claus?#what do yall eat on christmas? i realized while writing this that i have no idea what people normally have #sodafics #guns n roses #gnr #guns and roses #slash #saul hudson #axl rose #izzy stradlin #steven adler #duff mckagan #gnr fanfic #christmas

46 notes · View notes

curetapwater · 3 years

Text

A Beautiful Transformation? No Way!

Part 1 of Legendary Warrior Sailor Black

Nagisa knew too much about dying for someone still alive.

There she lay, curled up in shuddering fetal, biting back whimpers and growls because she couldn't give the ones that did this to her the satisfaction of knowing she was in pain. But of course she was in pain, what else were you supposed to feel when red was flowing from your pierced abdomen? She coughed and tasted iron. Now blood was coming from two places.

The lightest touch, warm and gentle, brushed her fingers. She mustered what strength she had left and opened her eyes. A girl's face lay mere centimeters from hers on this ground that shook with what Nagisa knew was the world crumbling around them. Wishing she could stop them, she beheld the tears streaming from the deep blue eyes that held Nagisa's world, her universe, for reasons she couldn't quite recall. Neither girl had the ability to speak, but Nagisa knew that right then what she needed to do was take the girl's hand.

Her hand...

🖤🌙🖤🌙

"NAGISAAAA! YOU'RE GONNA BE LAAATE!"

Misumi Nagisa was yanked back into the waking world so hard she feared whiplash. She blinked and rubbed at the clouds in her eyes until she could make out the time on her alarm clock. Oh. Her brother was right.

She yanked on her uniform button-down, skirt, vest, bow tie, and blazer faster than you can say "tardy," ran her toothbrush through her teeth and her hairbrush through her hair, grabbed the crosse leaning against her desk, and sprinted out her bedroom door.

"I'm heading out!" she announced without so much as a "good morning" to her family.

"Don't you at least want some toast?" her mother asked, spreading butter on a fresh slice.

But Nagisa was already on her way out of the apartment. "No time for toast!" she shouted back. Then she was back inside. "Oh, who am I kidding, there's always time for toast!"

🌙🖤🌙🖤

Trying not to choke on toast while running turned out to be a lot harder than television had led Nagisa to believe. Swallowing down the last bite with a hard gulp, she lamented morning coming so early.

She doubted this disaster would have even happened had she not been up all night scared she'd have the dream again. The one where she dies.

Shudders made her almost drop her crosse. That and the fact that she was still running. How could something that wasn't even real do this to her? It was invading real life! She'd considered telling her parents but figured they would just tell her what she already knew: that she wasn't really dying and that the world wasn't ending and that the girl with her wasn't dying either because she wasn't real. If she was, then Nagisa would be able to remember something about how she looked. Other than her eyes. And the way her hand felt...

Nagisa shook her head. If she went on like that it'd give the girls at Verone Academy all the more reason to stuff her locker full of letters she didn't want-

5 kilograms of something Nagisa couldn't see knocked her head clear of thoughts and into the pavement. She growled, staggering back up. "What was tha-"

A group of boys, maybe eight or nine years old, pushed past her and nearly threw off the balance she'd just regained. They were chasing a cream-colored cat that scampered all about, jumping on and off every surface it could to avoid the little menaces. It would seem the cat had chosen her as one of his landing spots.

Seeing the poor thing so helpless, in such terror, stabbed through Nagisa's stomach with a justice-induced rage.

"HEY!" she hollered, brandishing her crosse like a weapon. The boys turned, shocked at the power of her voice. "Pick on someone your own size!" They blinked at her. Then she raised her crosse in a jerk just threatening enough to make them scramble off.

The cat revved up to dart away, but stopped short and turned to stare at her.

"You okay, little guy?" Nagisa asked, stooping down to scratch his head. There was a bandage on his forehead. "Here, let me get that for you."

And she did, peeling the adhesive back to reveal the strangest marking she had ever seen, some sort of weird heart-shaped thing. She thought it might be a bald spot, but it was blue. Blue? Did cats come in blue? She'd never owned one-

Ah crap, now she was double late! The cat was fine, but she wasn't gonna be if she didn't book it to the train station!

🖤🌙🖤🌙

If it weren't for the vice principle telling her off about tardiness and irresponsibility and selfishness maybe Nagisa could have made it for at least the end of the first class period. But nope, instead by the time she made it to her classroom, the second class was well underway and Ms. Yoshimi was handing out grades for a test Nagisa had forgotten about the moment she'd turned it in.

"Ah, Ms. Misumi," she said. "Since you've decided to join us today maybe you can explain this." She handed her a paper face-down. Never a good sign. Walking to her desk, Nagisa clutched the side that held her red-ink fate flat against her stomach so no one, including herself, could see what it said. She waited until eyes were off her and snuck a peek.

She got a thirty percent.

"No way!" she exclaimed before she could stop herself. All eyes were back on her. This day just kept getting better and better.

🌙🖤🌙🖤

"English is a weird language anyway," Rina consoled on the way to the train station.

Shiho nodded emphatically. "Yeah yeah yeah. If it's gonna, like, have that many rules then they shouldn't change all the time."

Well that was easy for them to say. At least they passed the test. Nagisa passed her crosse between her hands before resting it on her shoulder. Lacrosse had gotten her mind off of things for a bit. It helped that it was something she was actually good at. The muscles in her legs ached in protest of their continued use after practice, but they burned good because she knew she was getting stronger.

"Hey! I know what'll cheer you up, Nagisa!" Shiho said.

"What?"

"I hear that one jewelry store in the mall is having a huge huge huge sale!"

"I doubt there's anything in there we could afford, even if it's on sale," Rina reasoned.

"No, but, I hear they're cutting prices by, like, ninety percent!"

"Really? I need to see that for myself!"

Somehow Nagisa doubted even with those huge price cuts that she could afford anything. Not so much because the jewelry was expensive, but because she'd squandered her allowance on chocolate desserts and takoyaki (not at the same time). Not to mention she doubted she'd be getting another payment for the next ten years after her parents saw the newest low in her academic career. And she was pretty sure she was in the hole to begin with...

So, Nagisa hopped on the train to home and left Shiho and Rina to their detour.

She kept her eyes on her loafers. All she wanted to do in that moment was shuffle over to the nearest window so she could stare out of it with quiet sullenness instead of having to look anyone in the eye. But she managed to do just that when she forgot you're supposed to look forward when you shuffle and she ended up shuffling right into a boy's solid back.

"Ah!" She leapt back in surprise, and he did the same. Her surprise soon melted to deep, deep embarrassment when she looked up to find the cutest boy she'd ever laid her eyes on.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his gorgeous floppy hair flopping gorgeously.

"I- I- I'm so sorry!" Nagisa replied with a bow.

"It's no problem," he said. "It was an honest mistake. You're Misumi, right?"

The tight cocoons forming in her heart burst into butterflies. "You know my name?"

"I told him," said the girl Nagisa just noticed had been standing with this boy the whole time. Nagisa recognized her as Yukishiro Honoka from her class, a very pretty girl with delicate pale skin and a head of shiny, neat hair that housed the brain that got the highest score on the test Nagisa had failed. And she knew him. Oh no.

"I apologize if it seemed like I had been talking behind your back," Yukishiro said, which planted in Nagisa's head the idea that she had been talking behind her back. "I was just concerned because you looked so distraught, and I was telling Fuji-P-"

"Ahhh... I told you not to call me that in public!" the boy said, cheeks flushing.

Great. They had pet names, too.

"I hope you're not still upset about that test," Yukishiro told her.

The butterflies in Nagisa's heart were replaced by a wasp sting of horror. "HOW DID YOU KNOW I GOT A THIRTY PERCENT ON THE ENGLISH TEST?!"

Conversations stopped all around her. Passengers, including far too many in Verone uniforms, briefly gaped at the girl dumb enough to announce something like that to a packed train car. Then they turned back in a way that was supposed to be discreet but everyone knew really wasn't.

Yukishiro's polite smile cracked to reveal a foundation of shock and second-hand embarrassment. "I- I- um, wasn't aware of the exact score, but... I just heard you exclaim 'no way' when you saw it and assumed you weren't happy..." She cleared her throat a bit, a cute little sound that somehow made Nagisa feel like even more of a bumbling fool. She had to get out of there.

"Well, it was nice meeting you!" she forced through her teeth before pushing through the packed train car to find a spot as far from all human beings as possible.

🖤🌙🖤🌙

At home, Nagisa was greeted not by her family but by a note:

Nagisa

Ryouta and I are out buying groceries. Leftovers in the fridge. DO YOUR HOMEWORK.

Love, Mom.

Her father wouldn't be home for several hours. So she had the apartment to herself to... what should she do? Cry? Sulk? Scream into her pillow? That last one sounded good. And then maybe if she was feeling a little more devious than usual, she'd change that 30 to an 80 with a couple strokes of a...

No, that was too low. She just wouldn't bring it up until it was brought up to her. Now there's a plan.

She went to her bedroom, threw her bag and crosse on a chair then threw herself onto her mountain of plush toys. She really hadn't gotten a lot of sleep last night, and she decided not to remind herself why in case she scared herself into another all-nighter. That day, especially that exchange on the train, was way scarier than anything her brain could concoct, even if in her dreams she had tasted death...

Because she...

What was she thinking about, again..?

🌙🖤🌙🖤

Nagisa didn't even have time to dream before she was awakened by four little paws driving into her stomach.

Her assailant turned out to be the cat.

"Bald spot cat?" she exclaimed.

"It's not a bald spot-mepo!" the cat said.

Wait.

Nagisa screamed. The cat got the message and launched himself off and onto the floor, giving her the second painful jab to the stomach she'd experienced within a single minute. She scrambled off her bed and grabbed her crosse as if it would protect her from the creature.

"What?! WHAT?! A talking cat?! No way... There's just no way!" she whimpered, more to herself than to him.

"Just put down the stick and listen to me-mepo!"

Nagisa lifted the crosse above her head. "G-Get away! I won't hesitate!"

"Mepooo!" the cat screamed and ran to her balcony that she realized she'd forgotten to close the door to. That would explain how he got in. "Don't hurt me-mepo! What are you doing-mepo! This isn't how legendary warriors should-"

"What's with all the 'mepo mepo' stuff? Say 'mepo' one more time!"

The cat clamped his mouth shut, clearly fighting the urge. "MEPOOO!" he shouted, darting back into the room and between her legs. Oh, no no no, that was closer than Nagisa ever needed to be to a weird talking cat. Who knew if he was even a cat at all?

Nagisa screamed and bolted back to her bed. This had to be a dream. If she just closed her eyes she'd wake back up in the real world where cats didn't-

"Listen to me-mepo!"

She opened her eyes to find him standing at the foot of her bed. She sat up, hugging a stuffed panda close in a feeble attempt to make herself feel better. Saner. "What do you want? What... are you?"

"My name is Mepple-mepo."

"Mepple-mepo?" Nagisa repeated.

"No-mepo. Mepple-mepo."

Nagisa blinked, then nodded her understanding. Maybe he'd go away if she just complied.

"I'm here because I've finally found you, the Legendary Warrior-mepo!"

"Legendary Warrior?" Nagisa said. She'd hardly say a girl in a wrinkled school uniform armed with nothing but a crosse would be something anyone would call a warrior. "I think you've got the wrong-"

"I didn't think you looked anything like what I was looking for-mepo. Until you saved me-mepo! If you didn't take off that bandage I wouldn't be able to talk-mepo!"

"And then where would we be?" Nagisa said dryly.

"Listen-mepo! A strange presence is in the air and it's threatening the city-mepo! I've watched you all day and I'm sure you're the warrior destined to find the Legendary Prism Crystal and the Princess of Light-mepo!"

"The what and the who?" This was getting way too complex. As if a cat being able to talk didn't make things complex enough.

Mepple rolled his eyes, which Nagisa was pretty sure cats weren't supposed to be able to do. "The sacred treasure and the princess of the Garden of Light-mepo!"

"Oh, well, that clears it up," Nagisa said, chuckling in an attempt to depressurize. It didn't work.

Mepple groaned, hopped off the bed, and padded over to the balcony. He pointed up at the sky with a round little paw. "There-mepo!"

Nagisa looked up into the twilight and saw oranges fading to blues but no supposed Garden of Light. "What am I supposed to be looking at?"

"That-mepo! The big white circle with the rabbit on the side-mepo!"

"... You mean the moon?"

"We called it the Garden of Light-mepo," Mepple said, going back inside. Nagisa followed and closed the balcony door before the neighbors started thinking she was crazy. Maybe she was.

"So... you're an alien?"

"I guess, but that's not important-mepo!"

"I beg to differ-"

"Just take this-mepo!" And with that, Mepple suddenly did a high-reaching somersault, leaving behind a trail of sparkling dust that materialized into a white and pink brooch that fell into Nagisa's hands. It was heavy, and it was cute. But it also came out of nowhere!

Nagisa cast the thing onto her bed, freaked beyond belief. "What is happening?!"

Mepple picked up the brooch between his sharp little teeth. Whatever muffled words came out of his mouth, they couldn't have been all that pleasant. But then he dropped it himself, ears perked up. "I sense an evil presence-mepo!"

Nagisa backed away. "A what?"

"Turn on the TV-mepo!"

Nagisa ran into the family room and did as she was told. On the screen flickered live footage of the mall, with policemen trying to break in.

"It seems there is some sort of barrier inside preventing entry into the complex," the news anchor said. "The state of the patrons inside is currently unknown."

The bottom of Nagisa's stomach dropped out. "That's where Shiho and Rina went! Do you think they're still in there?"

"I don't know-mepo! But I know this looks like a job for you-mepo!"

"Me? What am I supposed to do?"

"Put on the brooch and shout, 'Black Prism Power, Make Up'-mepo!"

Nagisa assumed the "mepo" was meant to be left out. "What good'll that do?"

"Just do it-mepo!"

And so, feeling like the kind of fool that announces to a packed train car that she got a thirty percent on a test, Nagisa attached the brooch to her bow tie and shouted, "Black Prism Power, Make Up!"

Her hand shot up without her permission. An instant later, the world around her exploded in blinding rainbow-colored light. She wanted to scream, wriggle, call for help as she was lifted into a void of pure color, but instead her body moved in sweeping, elegant movements in a choreography that she'd never learned. A yelp wished to break through her enforced silence when all clothing except the brooch vanished. Great ribbons of light erupted from the brooch, wrapping around her body in the shape of a leotard, gloves, boots, and a miniskirt. A big bow tied itself just above her backside, earrings clipped themselves into her ears, a choker found its way around her neck. Then a strange, almost searing sensation prickled in the center of her forehead, until a hard metal circlet materialized in place. Finally, her feet touched ground, though still all she saw was nebulous color. Her body struck several battle-ready poses she had no say in striking. But she really started freaking out when her voice started making choices of its own.

"I am the emissary of light that fights for love and for justice! I am Sailor Black! And now, in the name of the Garden of Light..." Her arm snapped forward, pointing a warning finger to no one in particular. "...return to the darkness from which you came!"

She blinked -- Oh, joy, she could blink her own eyelids! -- and the world faded back to her living room.

"...Say what?"

Mepple looked upon her with eyes that saw some champion of justice, as opposed to the middle-schooler in a shrunken black and pink sailor fuku that Nagisa saw when she caught her reflection in a mirror. "Amazing-mepo..." he said. "The Legendary Warrior has awakened right in front of me-mepo!"

"Awakened?"

"Now Sailor Black can finally fulfill her destiny and help restore the Garden of Light to its former glory-mepo!"

"I'm going to what?" Nagisa wanted to press further, suddenly feeling less hugged and more caged by the costume's tight fabric. But the sirens blaring from the television set reminded her there were more pressing matters at hand. "How am I supposed to help Rina and Shiho and everyone like this?" she asked, holding the black skirt's hem between her fingers.

"You are Sailor Black-mepo! You have legendary powers-"

"If you call me 'legendary' one more time..." Nagisa started, simmering on the outside but reeling from how fast this was happening on the inside.

"Never mind that-mepo. Let's go-mepo!" And with that, Mepple ran back to Nagisa's bedroom.

"That's not the way out," Nagisa said, following him. She found him with his front paws on the glass door to her balcony. "Maybe you always land on your feet, but I don't-"

"Do you want to save your friends or not-mepo!"

"I do, I do!"

"Then trust me-mepo!"

Nagisa sighed. She guessed she couldn't exit through the apartment complex's lobby dressed like this. She didn't feel particularly powerful, but if a cat could talk to her and she could change her clothes just by saying a phrase, then maybe she could trust this little guy.

She placed a gloved hand on the handle and slid the door aside in a shuddering motion. "Okay... Okay..." she heaved as she stepped onto the balcony. She'd never before given much thought to how high up the apartment really was. How she'd taken for granted the fact that she knew what the tops of neighboring buildings looked like. She'd never considered having to stand on them!

Part of her wanted to back away, to declare this whole mess some stress-induced fever dream that would all go away once she came back to her senses. But then she thought of her friends' horrified faces, their screams for help, who knows who keeping them in that dark mall to do who knows what.

Next thing she knew, her foot launched herself off the railing and into the newly dark night. The jump sent her farther up than she'd ever thought possible. She bypassed several buildings until her feet touched the roof of some office building. The sole of her boot touched concrete for but a moment before she took to the air yet again.

She wanted to scream but at the same time a euphoria was building inside her. "My body!" she exclaimed to Mepple, who rode her shoulder. "It's so light! And my muscles are so strong!"

"That's the power of the Sailor Guardians-mepo!" he said.

"Guardians? You mean there are others?"

"We'll talk about it later-mepo."

🖤🌙🖤🌙

Perched from her hiding place on yet another roof, Nagisa gathered that the police were trying to break into the mall from every entrance. Some even tried to break the windows, but some unseen force seemed to be keeping the doors shut and rendering the glass unbreakable.

"What kind of glass did they use on that thing?" Nagisa mused.

"These are dark forces at work-mepo. I can sense them-mepo," Mepple said.

"So only someone else with powers can stop whatever's going on here?"

"Yes-mepo."

Nagisa stretched her legs, hardly believing they had been able to make such impossible feats to get up there. "And I guess that person is me?"

"Yes-mepo."

"And what if someone recognizes me?"

"No one will-mepo. You're Sailor Black now-mepo."

"Oh, so people won't recognize me just because I'm in a new outfit?! You know, I'm the only person I know around here who has orange hair-"

Mepple leapt from her shoulder, plunging stories below.

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!" she hollered, following him anyway because she didn't know where else to go. With the place surrounded on all sides and no credentials to get past the cops, Nagisa resolved on the way down to land on the mall's roof. Unintentionally in the best way, she misaimed and ended up crashing through a skylight.

Descending into darkness in a glittering explosion of broken glass, Nagisa -- er -- Sailor Black felt a distinct stab of terror upon realizing she had no idea what she was getting herself into. Or maybe that was just her stomach dropping. She brought her hands in front of her, hoping to soften the fall, but when her hands hit floor she realized she had enough control to cartwheel onto her feet. No time to be impressed, she decided. She needed to find out what the heck was going on. She needed to know Shiho and Rina were alright.

The only light was from the moon, shining through the skylight. Other than the deserted rest area in which she stood, darkness stretched around her on all sides, truly endless. Had Mepple not landed on her head a few seconds later, she may have been paralyzed.

"Would you stop that?" she said, rubbing her head.

Mepple was already on the move. "The dark power! It's this way-mepo!"

Sailor Black sighed and followed. Kiosks, mannequins, garbage cans, so many figures that seemed innocuous in the light now made her heart twinge with dread. Her mind concocted horrible images of the figures she couldn't make out. Then she found one she did.

A body in a Verone uniform, laying crumpled on the floor.

Sailor Black screamed. Mepple sped over to investigate. "She's alive-mepo."

She clapped a hand to her mouth, her scream still echoing through the spacious mall. She hoped that hadn't attracted any unwelcome company.

Mepple stuck his head in a paper bag still in the girl's unconscious clutch. "What's this-mepo? A necklace-mepo?"

"A necklace?" Sailor Black said. That logo on the bag... now that she looked more closely... That was the store Shiho and Rina had been headed! And she knew exactly where it was, even if this place was spookier than usual. "Follow me, Mepple!"

🌙🖤🌙🖤

The sight she was met with a the jewelry store was a horrible one indeed. So, so many bodies littered the floor. Older women lay sprawled alongside schoolgirls no older than Sailor Black. And all their bodies glittered with brand new jewelry.

"What do you think is going on here-mepo?" Mepple asked, sniffing at a ring cast to the floor.

"I don't know, but..." The sinking feeling in Sailor Black's stomach was getting worse by the second. Tip-toeing over girls and women, she scanned around for... Shiho and Rina! They lay together in a heap by a display for friendship bracelets.

"Shiho! Rina!" Sailor Black cried, running for them.

"Shh," Mepple hushed. "Who knows who could be-"

"Who's there?" came a harsh voice. A well-manicured woman stepped out from a back room, paying no mind to the comatose patrons around her. She looked like some sort of store manager. And Sailor Black didn't like her at all.

She looked up from her spot kneeling next to her friends. Each wore one of the friendship bracelets, and it looked like they'd been picking out a third one. "What have you done to them?"

"Why should I care to tell you?" the woman scoffed, heels clacking on the floor closer and closer to her.

Sailor Black picked up the third friendship bracelet, hand shaking. Her eyelids started to droop and her heartrate slowed until she dropped the accessory. "It's the jewelry, isn't it? You're using this jewelry to... to... make everyone fall asleep? Or.. or sick? Or-"

The woman slammed her into the wall with an unnaturally long arm. She held Sailor Black by her neck, her cackling face deteriorating into that of a yellow-eyed monster as she strangled her.

"Mep-" Sailor Black wheezed. "Mepple! Mepple, help!"

Mepple charged for the monster's feet but she kicked him aside.

Sailor Black clawed uselessly at the monster's impossibly strong grip. The air was slowly being crushed out of her lungs. At this rate, she'd-

"Ow!" the monster cried, dropping her. Sailor Black hacked. Stuck in the floor before her was a blue rose. Just as confused as the monster, she looked up.

In the entrance to the store stood a girl in a white top hat, billowing white cape, and a similarly colored blazer and poofy skirt. Her hair shone raven black against the stark white of her costume, and a pale blue mask disguised her face.

"I am Tuxedo White," the girl declared, an identical blue rose playing between her gloved fingers. She snapped a pointed finger in the monster's direction. "Evil servant of the dark power, you will be punished!"

"Not another one," the monster grumbled. She raised her gnarled hands high and bellowed, "Awaken, my slaves, who have given energy to our great ruler!" The patrons on the floor began to twitch, and then to rise from the floor.

Tuxedo White gasped. "Sailor Black, behind you!" she cried.

"AHHH!!!" Sailor Black dove out of the way of an assault from a possessed Shiho just in time, only to almost stumble into a headlock from Rina. "Not you guys, too! Snap out of it, please!" she cried, running around the store.

"You can't stop them by running," Tuxedo White yelled, using a cane to fend off a possessed older woman.

"Do you expect me to attack these people!?" Sailor Black replied. Tuxedo White said something back but Sailor Black didn't hear it because at that point Shiho and Rina had tackled her to the ground. Now, she might have been an athlete, but so were her friends and oh boy did they put up a fight that she wasn't willing to dish back. "AHHHH!!! GET OFF OF ME! GET OFF OF ME!" It was enough to get her to start tearing up. As her vision blurred, the friendship bracelets on her friends' wrists glimmered back at her as the monster's cackling echoed through the store...

They'd had a third bracelet with them...

Had it been for her? Her friends had known how rough a day she'd had and they had tried to cheer her up. And this was the thanks they got? Possessed by this horrible... whatever this lady was? It was enough to make her blood broil.

She threw Shiho and Rina off of her (she'd check on them later) and stood straight up. "You..." she seethed at the monster. "How DARE you take advantage of the friendships of young girls!" She bound towards the monster. Her fist connected with the monster's jaw. "You are an enemy to girls and women everywhere!" Another punch sent the monster careening into a wall. "What you've done is unforgivable!"

"Sailor Black-mepo!" Mepple shouted. "Throw your tiara at her and shout 'Black Tiara Action'-mepo!"

Sailor Black was too angry to ask why. She ripped the tiara from her forehead and instinctively knew what to do. She twirled the tiara around her, felt it crackle and glow with black electricity. Then she threw it like a flying disk, shouting "Black Tiara Action!"

The tiara hit the monster with a crack of thunder, ripping through her body. The monster let out a final screech as she turned to shimmering moondust. Her tiara boomeranged back into her hands, leaving her speechless.

"Did I... do that? No way..."

"You've done well, Sailor Black," Tuxedo White said, bowing.

Sailor Black scratched the back of her head. "I should say the same to you. Thanks for helping me out back there."

Tuxedo White gave a little smile. "Of course. Well, until next time... Farewell!" And she left with a swish of her cape.

🖤🌙🖤🌙

"And when we woke up, the place was a mess!" Rina said.

"Yeah, it's true! You're, like, so so so lucky you weren't there!" Shiho added.

"But I could've sworn I'd seen someone fight the store manager. She saved us, I think!"

"Wow. Really?" Nagisa droned, forehead plastered to her desk. Between getting chewed out for the failed test, getting double chewed out for not doing her homework, and having almost died secretly saving a mall from a monster attack the night before, she was past the point of actually absorbing anything her friends were saying.

"Yeah, it's crazy! She's like a superhero or something! I think she said her name was... um..."

"Sailor Black?" Nagisa mumbled.

"That's it!" Shiho said.

Nagisa moved her head to the side. "Cool."

"Anyway, that's why we couldn't get those friendship bracelets," Rina explained. "But it's okay, because Shiho stayed up last night making these!" She and Shiho held up three little silver charms, each shaped like a bunny sitting on a crescent moon. Shiho handed the one painted with pink accents to Nagisa.

"Here you go!" Shiho said. "I figured something made by me would be more meaningful anyway, y'know? We were... hoping we could cheer you up!"

Nagisa smiled at the gift and held it to her chest. "It did," she said, smiling through her tired eyes. "Thanks, you guys. Really."

#pretty cure fanfic #pretty cure #futari wa pretty cure #sailor moon crossover #sailor moon au #sailor black

9 notes · View notes

ladyvader23 · 4 years

Text

The School Play

For @slx99, who inspired me to write this little Dad Vader piece! I also have no idea if walrus’ exist in the Star Wars universe, but THEY DO NOW!

I also take requests!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Vader stared in horror at the announcement slip his children had brought home from preschool.

Apparently, the children would be putting on a play--or, rather, a presentation, if the description was anything to go by. The school had the children research a topic, and the children would be putting on a dramatic retelling of what they’d learned. It actually sounded terribly boring, but he’d read in that parenting book the children’s pediatrician had given him that supporting their interests, including school activities, helped foster confidence in children. An important quality in the two most important children in the galaxy, even if his presence would terrify everyone else in the room.

The problem wasn’t the boring play. It was what his son was signed up to be.

A walrus.

Leia had a stormtrooper, which was normal enough. But Luke had a walrus? How in the galaxy had he even had the misfortune of getting such an unfortunate aquatic creature?!

He looked up at Miss Laena, who’d handed him the announcement slip in the first place. “My son will not play a walrus in front of a crowd of people!”

The school the children went to was full of senator’s children, as well as other important Imperial figures, such as Grand Moffs, generals, and the like. Vader doubted most of those important figures would actually be at the play; most likely, their partners or nannies would go. But it did not matter. Word would spread fast that the son of Darth Vader had played a walrus.

“Luke is very excited about the play, my lord.” Miss Laena said carefully. “It’s all he’s been talking about for weeks, now. I even helped him make the costume.”

His stomach dropped. “There’s a costume?”

It just got worse and worse.

“Yes, my lord. I might be able to pull together another one in time, but it will break his heart.”

Vader gritted his teeth. If this was any other assignment, he’d tell the boy to deal with whatever he chose for him, but he also didn’t need him crying on stage in front of everyone because he was unhappy.

He would need to convince him.

“Summon my son. I will speak with him.”

Miss Laena hurried to do so, and soon the tiny form of his son came running into his office, immediately climbing (uninvited) into his lap. Vader had no change to stop him before his little arms wrapped around his neck with a hug.

Despite the dire situation, he couldn’t help but melt a little under the embrace.

“Hi daddy!” Luke said, pulling away after a moment, settling in comfortably on his leg. “Am I in trouble?”

Perhaps that was the reason for the immediate hug. He would need to discourage such behavior in the future.

“No, my son.” He reached up and ruffled his hair. “I just wanted to know why you were assigned to be a walrus in this play.”

Luke brightened. “Oh! I’m going to be a walrus, daddy!”

“Yes, but why?” Perhaps he hadn’t understood the phrasing of his first question. He struggled to speak on a level the twins would understand, at times.

“Because I like them.”

Vader winced. That would make it harder to convince him to change topics.

“But why?”

Luke shrugged. “They look funny.”

And that was precisely why he didn’t want him to play a walrus in the first place. “Why don’t I help you choose something diff--” he cut off as Luke’s expression immediately began to fall, his eyes watering.

“No, daddy, I wanna be a walrus!”

Damn.

Already, just from his presence alone, Vader could tell it would be far more of a fight to force him to choose something else than to just do the walrus.

“...I will need to have a word with the school. But fine.”

Immediately the tears were gone, and Luke threw his arms around him again before climbing off and running to find his sister. Vader watched after him, wondering how his children had so thoroughly wrapped him around their fingers, before he pulled up his datapad to send a message to the school principal to order that no footage be allowed at the play.

If Luke insisted, he could at least make sure the incident was nothing more than a strange, unconfirmed rumor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The night of the play, he’d debated on pretending his schedule was too full to attend. That way, perhaps no one would notice that the son of Darth Vader was dressed as a walrus. It wasn’t like he didn’t have plenty of things to do instead anyway, but every time he thought about not showing up, the imagined disappointment in his children’s faces when they returned home was enough to guilt him into keeping the time reserved for the play.

That didn’t mean he didn’t show up at the last possible second before they closed the doors for the performance.

Naturally, the moment he walked in, a hush fell over the crowd of nannies and parents. He made a face when he recognized a few important officials there who were also apparently trying to be good parents despite their schedules. Normally he could respect that, but today of all days, he wished they’d remained at work.

The principal, a short, portly man, came rushing over not long after he’d found a corner to stand in. “I have issued a strict no recording policy as you wished, Lord Vader.”

“Good.” Vader crossed his arms, looking over his head to the curtained stage. “Because if there is any recording of my children distributed, I will personally pay you a visit.”

The man paled, gulped, and nodded. “Understood, my lord.” Then he turned and rushed off.

Moments later, the lights dimmed, and an announcement was made over a microphone to remind everyone of the very fact that no recording was allowed. He half expected them to use him as an excuse, but they mentioned nothing of the rule being a direct order from him.

Hm. He might have mentioned it just to make sure, but if he had to dispose of the principal, he would not lose sleep over it. His children barely knew the man and wouldn’t notice if he disappeared. Perhaps he’d do it anyway just for the fact that someone in his staff showed the boy a picture of the infernal animal in the first place.

Once the announcement was made, the “play” began. Sure enough, it was less of a play and more of various small children of different species in costumes reciting facts about whatever they’d researched for the parents. This was followed up by polite clapping, which he did not participate in. They were not his children, after all. He did not care, and he thought most of them were terribly boring anyway.

He was also certain that none of these children had actually done their own research. What a complete waste of time and resources.

But then came Leia. Somehow, Miss Laena had managed to help her construct an almost perfect replica of a stormtrooper armor set, fit perfectly to her petite size. The only thing that he could tell was real was the helmet, which she carried in her arms as more of a prop than anything else.

When she walked onto the stage...as he suspected she would, she immediately acted as though the entire room was there for her. She squared her shoulders, looking over the audience with as high and mighty of a look that an almost five year old could muster.

“Stormtroopers are soldiers who help protect the Empire.” She spoke clearly into the microphone. It was...well, as natural as a four year old could get, and a pang went through his chest at the thought of her suddenly looking very much like a mini version of her mother. “They serve over the whole Empire. They can be foot soldiers, or fly TIE fighters, like my daddy does.”

He wondered if that was something she was supposed to say, or if she said it just because she was proud of what he did for a living. Not that she knew the full extent of that, but...he offered a rare, unseen smile nonetheless.

“This is a real stormtrooper helmet. My friend let me use it tonight.” Friend? What friend? “Stormtroopers are not like clone troopers. They’re normal people like you and me.”

He refrained from snorting at that. In his opinion, Clone Troops were far superior, but the Emperor did not seem to care for that opinion.

“There’s also lots of types of stormtroopers. You can tell what they are because of their uniform. In conclusion, stormtroopers are pretty cool and I like them. They keep us safe, and are friends to all.”

That...didn’t really make sense. But she was four, and again, probably had her lines written by someone else. Still, when she finished and did a little curtsy, he clapped proudly for the first time the entire show, then watched as she practically skipped off stage.

Then...it was Luke’s turn.

It was an experience to have one child give a basic but Imperial pride-supporting speech, then directly afterwards have another child walk out wearing a walrus costume to talk about an animal he’d never even personally seen before. He was sure that anyone who knew Luke was his son probably had a lot of questions he’d never answer right about now.

But there Luke was, walking out wearing a well made, but monstrosity of a costume. He wore a dark gray, long-sleeved tunic that reached his knees, except that the sleeves ended well past where he knew Luke’s hands to be, and the end was in the shape of walrus flippers. A tail flopped around with each step Luke took, and his head was almost completely engulfed by a walrus-face hood. The face opening was framed by two giant tusks, what he supposed were whiskers, and at the top of the hood, giant eyes that Vader could swear were staring into his soul.

And underneath, Luke had obviously painted his face. Probably the same color as the tunic.

Half of Vader wanted to have the ground open up and swallow him whole. The other half was admittedly impressed with the lengths his son had put his nanny up to in making this costume. He was also dead certain that if Luke looked back on this costume as an adult, he’d be embarrassed beyond all reason.

“Walruses are water animals who live on water worlds like Mon Cala.” Luke began, just as confidently as Leia. It was also obvious he was very proud of the whole thing; he was bouncing a bit in excitement, causing the tail to flop around constantly. Nearby, Vader heard a few parents coo adoringly at the display.

He wondered if it would be noticeable if he used the Force to hold his son in place.

“They can dive deep in the water, but they like to stay near land. They are really, really fat. Also, both the girls and the boy walruses have tusks, like this!” He reached up and tugged on the tusks, earning chuckles from the crowd.

Well. Both of his children definitely liked to use visual aids. It was interesting to know, at least.

“They also live for a super long time. Forty years!” Luke lifted his flipper-hands up in excitement. “They also can live in the cold because they’re fat. They like to eat fish. And they make these really funny noises, like--” then Luke proceeded to demonstrate, and more laughter erupted around the room.

As well as Luke was doing, Vader couldn’t help but curse whoever had even shown the cursed animal to his son. He would definitely be finding a replacement for the principal after he was through with him.

What had he done to encourage such a fascination with the animal? He was from the desert, so this had to be something from his mother’s side of the family, he was sure of it.

But Luke seemed pleased by the audience’s reaction. He himself would have to ensure this incident never left this room, but at least his son was happy.

“So yeah, I like walruses. They’re funny looking, and that’s why I chose to tell you about them.” Then, with that said, Luke made a bow, and the audience erupted in far more clapping than had been heard the entire night. Luke straightened, grinned, then ran off stage, his tail and flippers flapping wildly behind him.

Well. It was certainly the most interesting part of the night, he thought as he clapped for his son. And despite being a walrus, his son was perfect. Just...had some odd interests that he sincerely hoped he grew out of.

When the show ended, Vader waited uncomfortably by the doors for his children. Plenty of parents and their costumed kids walked by, all giving him a wide berth. He ignored them all, scanning the crowd for his children. He could sense them coming, but for whatever reason, they kept stopping.

Finally, he saw the small figures of Luke and Leia pushing their way through their crowd, beaming smiles on their faces when they saw him.

“Daddy!” Leia crowed, and he quickly reached out to place his hands on their shoulders before they could try to hug him. He had grown used to their hugs in private, but they were still learning that it was not permitted in public. “Did you like my play?”

“You did well.” He confirmed, patting her head, which caused her to make a face and pull away.

“Don’t mess up my hair.” She muttered.

Luke had pulled the hood down and his painted face looked up at him. “What about mine, daddy? Lots of people told me they liked it.” He paused, frowning. “Did you?”

Vader paused, deciding how to phrase it. He did not like that he was parading around in a ridiculous walrus costume, but the whole point of him coming to this ridiculous excuse for a play was to support his children and build their confidence. He could not ruin it by telling his son that he hated the animal he was portraying. “You played your performance well, my son. I am proud of you both.”

Yes. That seemed safe. And to his satisfaction, the twins beamed up at him. But the moment was ruined when Luke asked, “Can we go to Mon Cala to see the walruses?”

“Yeah! Let’s go, daddy!” Leia added.

He paused for a few breaths of the respirator. “Mon Cala...is not safe for humans.”

Luke frowned. “But my friend said he went, and--”

“Why don’t I take you to a zoo, instead?” Then maybe Luke would see a different, less embarrassing animal to portray next time. Or maybe he’d lose interest in animals completely.

Luke considered for a moment, then nodded. “Okay daddy.” He paused. “Can I be a walrus for Trick Or Treat?”

Again, he paused, trying to come up with an answer that would not hurt his son’s feelings. “Why don’t you wait until after we go to the zoo?”

Luke also seemed to accept this answer, and Vader took his children's hands in his own, and led them from the theater.

Vader made sure to give pointed glares at anyone who dared look their way.

#Dad vader #dad vader series #luke skywalker #leia organa #luke loves animals #vader is not pleased #he probably got an A on his performance though #do they even grade preschoolers?#i don't know how preschool works

217 notes · View notes

siimjaeyun · 3 years

Text

Chapter 8: Family Troubles

Synopsis: When two beasts appear in Seoul, destroying buildings and businesses, it might just teach your mystery-solving group a thing or two about relationships, both friendly and family ones.

Series Masterlist

-------

“I must say Mayor Lee, it was a great idea to open a Tiki Place here in Seoul.” Chief Kim commented while sipping on the drink held in his hand.

“Anything for Seoul, and I also applaud you for keeping Seoul criminal free.”

The two men brought their glasses together in a celebratory manner; they sat back comfortably in their seats as they applauded the singer who was on stage performing.

“Thank you everyone for coming tonight, I hope you all had fun.” The female singer bowed down slightly, and a shriek escaped from the guests. She turned and met a giant furry body. The green giant hurled a table to the roof of the restaurant, and proceeded to destroy the surrounding places like the tables and stage.

“Just wonderful.”

-------

“Uh...did I do something wrong?” Heeseung peered through the mirror at the friends who were caught up in avoiding each other's glares.

“Jungwon is upset because Sunoo and Niki went to see a movie without him. Then, Jay and y/n got into a fight last night.” Sunghoon summarized it lighty and yes he was right.

Let’s start with the younger trio shall we. Niki, who had recently moved and joined their friend group, had been warmly welcomed by the duo Sunoo and Jungwon, two tight knit members who were pulled into mysteries by their older friends in middle school. It just so happened that Niki who was the youngest, became so loved by both Jungwon and Sunoo, as well as everyone else. Jungwon was just upset that they couldn’t hang out the three of them instead of choosing partners in their new friend trio.

Now as for you and Jay, that's a lot messier. It all started with your parents coming into the living room and telling Jay that he was prohibited from solving mysteries which to him was unfair considering his twin sister, aka you, were allowed to. Which ended in a battle of jealousy and reliving past trauma.

“Well, maybe a mystery will cheer us up. There was an attack at the Tiki restaurant last night.” Heeseung pulled over, and parked the van near the now shredded sight. An awkward pause settled in and it remained when Sunghoon, Jake, and Heeseung were left staring at their other five friends who kept looking at each other.

Eventually, they got off the van as well. They split, searching for clues and witnessing a man in a blue suit who appeared to be the owner of the construction place.

“Been earning good money I tell you. Sham’s Construction is gonna have to thank these beasts.” The man cackled and introduced himself as Mr.Sham to you.

“At least we know someone is happy.” You whispered sarcastically into Jake’s ear. You went off with Jake, and kept taking photographs of the site, trying to find inconsistencies.

“Chief Kim, do you know what happened?”

“This green giant, who I have decided to call a Humungonaut, came and destroyed the place. You should have seen the damn beast. Powerful.”

“At least there’s only one of them.” Ah, yes, bad luck was definitely in your favor today, seeing as a red colored beast surged from the hair salon on the other block. It picked up a car and flinged it towards the site of rubble from the Tiki place.

“Nice going Jay.”

“Me? Please, save your breath will you sissy.”

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t know I wasn’t worthy of being in the same area of the great mighty Jay Park.”

“That’s enough of the both of you.” Sunghoon gave you two a stern look before forcing you into the opposite directions.

“We need to focus on the task here. Be mindful of others guys.” Sunoo tried convincing his friends before Jungwon came up with his own thoughts.

“Now you want to be mindful of others? Must have been good thinking considering you didn’t bother to invite me to your little hangout huh!” Now it was the trio’s turn to start bickering which led to Heeseung dragging them down to his home.

-------

“We need an intervention. We’re not gonna get anywhere if they keep fighting.” Jake sat on the chair with his head resting on the table, before an idea came into his head.

“How about we do an intervention?”

“Like therapy?” The ring of the doorbell intervened in their conversation and Heeseung happily opened the door for Chief Kim who appeared alongside materials for a BBQ.

“I knew we’d need help so I called Chief Kim.”

Clearly, Heeseung was not accurate in seeking the help of Chief Kim, seeing as his only response and solution to your friend issues was, “Maybe you should leave town and go your own ways.”

“The problem here is Sunoo! How dare you hang out with Niki without me!?”

“Because you don’t like horror movies!”

“The real problem here is spelled J-A-Y P-A-R-K who clearly doesn’t believe in his sister!”

“Not everything is about you y/n!”

Another fight broke out in their session which left Heeseung to drop a giant box onto the table to cut their unfriendly conversation.

“How about we use this pent up anger on I don’t know catching two monsters,” he opened the box and gave each member a suit, “this is our new uniform. Hurry before I grab each of you by the ear.”

All of you looked at the uniforms, a dissatisfaction growing on your faces. The white tracksuits were clearly not what you imagined to be Heeseung’s quick solution to your problems .

You arrived at another place that had been attacked, and while all of you appreciated and loved Heeseung with your full hearts, you weren’t a fan of the uniforms. In fact, the moment the team arrived, you all lowered your heads while you investigated the scene.

“Tsk, look who’s here.” Sunghoon nudged you with his elbow and you looked at Mr.Sham who arrived with a giant truck carrying away the rubble that remained.

------

Two signs hung on the side of the road: Bobby Minner Insurance, and right next to it Robby Minner Insurance.

“Is trespassing a construction site really the only answer?” Heeseung ignored Sunoo’s worries and used his bolt cutters to lift the lock up.

“Hurry before we get caught.” All of you split into teams, different ones of course. Your petty fights resulted in avoiding each other at all costs.

Without a warning, one of the beasts appeared once more and Mr.Sham was seen running away from his office building as he managed to escape the explosives that were set from afar.

All of you made your walks in a zigzag pattern, and crashed onto the side of the road with Mr.Sham falling afterwards with you.

“Guess Mr.Sham isn’t the humungonaut.” Jay let out an awkward chuckle before Mr.Sham turned his head to glare at him, but later joined in witnessing how his business had been consumed in flames.

-------

“Looking for insurance? Well, Bobby Minner is the best place to be..” The ad played in the background before a defeated sigh left the mouth of the teen’s in the van.

“This leaves us back at zero.” They crossed their arms and bolted up when the radio began to play a static sound and a voice was heard on the radio.

“Why..hello Mystery Co…” It was JK.

“Since you guys seem to have some hard time figuring this out, let me give you a riddle. Open your ears, and you’ll head the answer. Open your eyes, and pay attention to the signs. The solution will be ensured. Later kids.”

The static once more took over, and the original sound of the radio played again, “Robby Minner’s insurance is the way to go.”

“You know, it would be nice if he just told us the clues straightforwardly.” Niki commented as he rested his head on the seat.

-------

“Dad, come on, this humungonaut is a threat.” Heeseung argued with his father and Chief Kim, who honestly speaking, could care less about his worries.

“We will do something. Chief.” Chief Kim strolled over to the center of the room, setting up his presentation with a portrait.

“Your solution is a bowl of salad?” Sunoo asked sarcastically while staring at the misdrawn image in front of him.

“No! We’re planning to host a humungonaut event: people pay to see them destroy things. Perfect business.”

Clearly, the money and tourism seemed to be the priority.

“This is the best idea, people pay money to see the monster get caught in our trap.” A shocked expression fell upon Heeseung’s face before he slammed his hands on his father’s desk.

“A trap! You’re building a trap without me!? My own father!?” He slightly quivered his lips before hanging his head low as he exited the room. Poor boy had just been heartbroken.

“You’ll get over it,” Mayor Lee stopped mid-way as he finally took in the uniforms on your bodies, “Are you guys going to a costume party?”

Just when it was time for you to leave, all of you responded with a hard “no,” not bothering to explain that it was Heeseung’s idea too.

“That sucks, because you look ridiculous.”

-------

“They’re so stupid, they’re clearly amateurs.” Jake and Sunghoon turned their heads from the computer screen and looked at their oldest friend who was busy using his binoculars to observe the traps set in the stadium.

“GO RED!” “GO GREEN!” In the meantime, Jungwon and Sunoo began swinging at each other with their foam fingers, hurting their other friend Niki in the process.

“Anyway, what have you managed to find?” Both you and Jay looked at the duo who seemed puzzled at the sight and map on their screen.

“Hmm...there’s no clear pattern, but they only attack certain sites and businesses. This humungonaut really is confusing.” Jake responded, slightly leaning towards you.

“It’s even more confusing than JK’s riddles.” Jungwon commented, which left Jake to enter into an aha moment.

“You’re a genius Jungwon. Come on, the humungonaut won’t be here.” Jake took your hand and helped you out of the seats as the other followed behind, leading you to the final destination for these humungonauts.

-------

“Got the plan? When the humungonauts appear, you use the pulley to get them, got it?” The younger trio nodded their heads and took their positions.

It wasn’t long before the humungonauts appeared at the boat warehouse: a place where Jake had led all of you as well.

When the two beats caught sight of each other, they immediately grabbed each other by the necks. Their large size caused the floor under you to shake violently, and they broke through a couple boats before finally rolling into the small pool of water inside a building.

“Pull!” The net pulled them upward and the two beats collapsed tiredly onto each other in the buddle of the net.

“It worked?” Sunghoon was surprised that his trap worked so efficiently the first time given their long history.

“Good thing those tickets were non-refundable.” Mayor Lee and Chief Kim came walking towards them and were startled by the beasts.

“Your trap actually worked?”

“Hey, don’t act too surprised.” Heeseung crossed his arms and saw as Jake pulled a staircase towards the two giants.

“Hello creatures, I would like to welcome you to our humble earth planet.” Chief Kim began his long-winded speech before Jake finally managed to reach the top.

“Sorry to disappoint Chief Kim, but these are no monsters at all. It’s Robby and Bobby Minner.” He pulled on the masks and the Minner twins were right underneath.

“But how did you know Jake?”

“Remember JK’s riddle, I just had to place these businesses under each of their insurances.” The rest of you looked confused, and settled your sights on the brothers who were peaking through the mesh.

“That’s right. Our rivalry began since our circus days as strong men. We were always a duo, but one day he just left the team and joined a rival circus. Who would have known we would join the insurance business? We used the costumes to destroy each other’s business and get revenge.” Robby Minner gave a pause before his brother looked at him, “and we would have would have gotten away with it too, if it wasn’t for my meddling brother!” The twins yelled the phrase at the same time before fighting with each other again. Chief Kim and others had arrived to take them away.

“Guys, that was great team work!” Heeseung exclaimed happily before you all looked at each other.

“Sunoo, we’re sorry we didn’t invite you. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“I’m sorry too.” Sunoo and Jungwon joined each other into a hug before welcoming Niki to join.

You sighed and looked at Jay.

“I’m sorry for hurting you. Seeing those twins really made me think that I don’t want to hate or resent you in a few years. Sometimes I get jealous of how perfect you are, but it doesn’t give me a right to be mean with you.”

“No, I’m also sorry. Truth is, I’m jealous that mom and dad give you so much freedom, and you still do well in school. I guess the stress got to me, and I’m sorry for putting you in a situation like that.” Now it was your turn to give Jay a hug.

“I’m so glad this is settled, see? All we need is our strong bond.” Heeseung smiled warmly at his friends before Sunghoon lifted one of his eyebrows.

“Does this mean we also don’t need uniforms?”

“I guess not.” Heeseung did not even complete his sentence before seeing as his friends took off the tracksuits and tossed them into the van.

“We love you Heeseung, but maybe we should just keep the name of Mystery Co.” You comforted him and all of you took a seat by the deck. The stars glistened in the dark, and it left you to enjoy the peaceful moment with the people you loved the most.

--------

Next- Chapter 9: Vampires and Prison Visits

Tag List: @softkons @nikisboxysmile

(send an ask to join the taglist!)

#enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #heeseung #heeseung imagines #jake imagines #jungwon #niki #sunghoon #jay #enhypen jake #enhypen jay

11 notes · View notes

heartofsnark · 4 years

Text

This Is Love (Chapter Five):Heart Like A Wildflower

Notes: Soooooo we get some Joseph POV for the first time but certainly not the last. Capturing his voice and energy is not an easy feat for me, but I hope this comes across alright. Also this chapter is a bit short for me; so, hopefully that’s still chill because I’m still very proud of it in many aspects.

Word Count: 6253

Chapter Warnings: Joseph being a crazy motherfucker, PTSD Faith Nips (sometimes white dresses are very sheer, don’t kill my vibe), Body Horror

For chapter one and the warnings about this fics overarching themes, please click here!

For the previous chapter; click here!

“We’re moving closer and closer to the edge; with every passing day we grow closer to the moment we’ve been preparing for. When the first seal breaks, when we will begin to reap the land for all we need to survive the collapse; to show our strength and our resilience and march through Eden’s Gate as a family. For I am your Father and you are my children…”

“Praise be to you,” his congregation speaks to him unison, their voices echoing into cacophony in the small church. Despite his growing flock, the church remains small and humble. Joseph much prefers it that way, despite the land and resources to expand, he never wishes to stray from their modest roots.

There’s a catch in his throat as the sermon ends; he means what he says, he always does. But, there is a new gravity to his words. The collapse is close. He knows it. There is a tension rising, the electricity in the air before the storm comes crashing down. The seal has yet to open, but it’s only a matter of time and that time is quickly running out.

His flock stands from the pews, people of varying gender, race, experience, all united under his message. One woman comes to stand before him, a shake in her hands, Layla a young follower who works under Faith’s guidance for the project.

It’s not uncommon for members of the flock to come speak to him following service, asking questions and needing his guidance. He knows every member by name; knows their struggles as intimately as he knows his own. So, it is no surprise to see her coming to him for counsel or comfort. Her attire is more surprising, he knows her typical manner of dress, the black leather jacket on her clashing against the vibrancy of her clothes. Behind her, Theodore, a chosen who works under John, lingers behind her.

“Father Joseph…” She begins tentatively, unsure of herself.

“Layla, The Father has greater concerns than what you’ve drugged in.”

“What is it, my child?”

“I’ve brought someone-”

“A police officer,” Theodore cuts her off, “who arrested brother Nathaniel and I.”

“A wayward soul worthy of salvation, I don’t know how to explain it, but she saved me, and I knew I had to bring her here, if you’re able to speak with her…”

“All are worthy of salvation, so long as they open their hearts to us and join our family,” he tells her, casting a glance at Theodore who avoids his gaze, guilt coloring his features. He is a valuable worker, perhaps one of few who can work closely with John and withstand the youngest Seed brother’s more…dramatic inclinations, but he struggles with Pride and Wrath as many do.

“Please, Father, I don’t know if I can reach her…would you speak with her?”

“Of course, my child.” Joseph lays a hand on her shoulder, hoping to ease some of the young woman’s nerves.

Layla and Theodore fall in step behind him as he makes his way to the door of the church; his brothers and sister are near the exit. Jacob’s scarred forearms are crossed over his chest, John fiddling with the sleeves of his coat, and Faith leaning against a pew.

“There’s a cop outside,” Jacob tells him in warning.

“She’s harmless, I promise.”

Layla words do nothing to ease the tension in the eldest Seed’s body language, prepared to fight for his family and the project whenever necessary. Joseph squeezes his older brother’s shoulder as he passes, hoping the contact can do something to ease the tension within him.

The day has already been a stressful one for the Seed family; John spending earlier hours a mess over someone sharing a video of him online only for him to be ridiculed, something easily sending the younger brother into hysterics. Which, while that certainly hasn’t been a priority for anyone else, John has a way of making sure his concerns become everyone else’s concerns.

Night air chills his fevered skin, wet with sweat from his sermon in the small candle lit church. Members of his flock talking amongst themselves following the service; the only sign of unrest the occasional wary glance towards the side of the church.

“Layla, are you almost fuckin’ done? I’m freezing my tits off out here and I can’t afford to lose much more.”

The crude statement comes from a young woman, sitting in front of the church chin perched on a motorcycle helmet. And all at once Joseph’s breath catches in his throat, pain throbbing in his temples as the hair on the back of his neck stands at end. All at once he’s struck with it, the burden of his prophetic stature, stuck with a simple fact.

He knows.

He knows it as well as he knows his own name. As intimately as he knows his own heartbeat. Knows it as certainly as he knows the collapse will come. Knows it as deeply as he knows the Voice. He knows it as well as he knows his own word; the prophecy and truths that he speaks.

He knows.

She is the Lamb.

The one who will open the first seal, the harbinger of doom, the beginning of the end. Unwittingly or not, in rebellion or in ignorance, she will be the one to bring forth the collapse. He’s felt it, the tension, the build, creeping towards the edge with every passing moment and it’s because the Lamb has arrived. They’re truly nearing the end.

From between the ears of her helmet, her dark eyes watch everyone with intensity, flickering like a cat prepared to run or fight should anyone draw too close. Her gaze lands on him and his family; a dark brow raising, as if to question their presence on their property standing before their church.

It has been said that over time, one stops seeing new people, seeing instead patchwork of those they’ve met before. Traits and details becoming echoes of the first person to show them. And as the Lamb stands before him; Joseph finds himself piecing her together through comparisons.

The way her short dark hair falls across half her face only to be pushed back, reminds him of a love he lost long ago. There’s something in the eyes, as she meets his gaze, head held straight. Memories of a young Jacob standing up for him; the unbreakable will and fire always burnishing behind his eyes, an unspoken strength. She holds that same strength, but much like Faith it hides behind a soft face and a short build, just shy of being the height of his shoulder. When her gaze lands on Layla, the way the side of her mouth quirks up, the raise of her eyebrow; mischief and confidence radiating off of the expression, brings back memories of John using his silver tongue to get them out of trouble. He knows people, can read their hearts; she’s a soldier, a survivor. Someone needing a purpose, not yet aware that she already has one.

It is easy to blame the Lamb for their role, for opening the seals and beginning the end. But the Lamb works in the place of the Lord, whether they know it or not, they’re the hands through which he acts. Setting forth the Collapse is not an act of malice on the part of their Creator. That first seal must be opened and someone must do it; it’s what must happen for those chosen to reach New Eden. Whether she will do it aligned with them and understanding of her role or not remains to be seen. She is chosen as well, a special soul given the gift of purpose, what she does with her gift is another matter entirely.

“I’m done waiting, Layla, jacket,” The Lamb speaks, holding her hand out to Layla. The out of place leather jacket clearly meant to drape across her shoulders instead of the flock member’s. He watches the muscles beneath her shirt shift, pulling tighter over her biceps as she impatiently waits.

“You should have come inside, the time would have flown by,” Layla tells her.

“Nah, in my experience sermons last even longer when you actually have to listen to ‘em,” her deep brown eyes flicker to Joseph, “no offense.”

“None taken, I’m Joseph Seed,” he extends his hand to her and she slowly takes it, as if he may strike her, her hand is scarred and calloused, a rough burn across her palm.

“Nice to meet ya, I, uh, recognize you from the giant fuckin’ statue.”

“Isn’t it lovely, you can feel his love spreading across the land,” Faith speaks up, the statue her doing, “it’s nice to see you again.”

For the first time, The Lamb drops her gaze, red flushing across her tawny cheeks.

“You know her, Faith?”

“We saw each other briefly, a week or so ago, she reached out for me.”

“Uh, yeah, I’m like real fuckin’ sorry about that,” she scratches the back of her head, “I, uh, thought you were someone else…”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah…” She stares at her feet, fiddling with her uniform shirt, a lie.

“Well, I’m not sure who you thought I was, but I’m Faith.”

“Nice to meet ya, for real. And…sorry again.”

“While we're making introductions, it’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m John Seed,” the youngest Seed brother steals her attention, sticking a hand out for her to shake. His lawyer smile bright and wide, more Duncan than Seed in the moment.

“Uh,” she reluctantly shakes his hand, “likewise I guess…”

“We’re always happy to meet one of this county’s finest.”

Jacob scoffs and rolls his eyes, the least tolerant of John’s chameleon-like behavior, knowing full well that just a week ago John was complaining about the police force for arresting Theodore and Nathaniel. This exact officer doing so, according to the former.

“’preciate it, but uh, if the introductions are done,” she tells him as she drops his hand, she’s not phased or charmed, refocusing on Layla again, “I’m actually kinda in a hurry, so if I could just get my jacket back, I’d appreciate it.”

“Layla, are you holding her jacket hostage?” He casts a soft gaze towards Layla, no malice, it’s nothing significant and despite The Lamb’s insistence on getting it back. She doesn’t appear angry, just…on edge. Layla shrinks, like a scolded child.

“Maybe…I just wanted her to meet you.”

“A noble cause, my child,” he squeezes her shoulder, “but we’ve inconvenienced her enough.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry.”

Layla pulls the leather jacket from her shoulders and hands it to Joseph, head ducked down. He offers it back to The Lamb with a gentle smile, a gesture she returns with hesitance, the expression not quite reaching her eyes as she takes her jacket from him.

“Thanks…” She pulls it on, despite being a little large on the small woman, it suits her.

“This Friday, we’re having a barbecue following our service, it’s open to everyone, if you’d like to come.”

“While I definitely, totally, would if I could, but I work Fridays so….,” she shrugs her shoulders, “I’ll just get out of your hair, now.”

And she’s off, a quick hand wave as she rushes out of the gates, eager to get away from them and the church. Hopefully, his words will reach her and she’ll find the path before it’s too late. Her role as Lamb has marked her worth, her importance, the significance of her salvation.

Dahlia slams her trailer door shut behind her, scrubbing her hands over her face. She feels dirty, gross and vile. Religious people do that to her, make her feel like something is wrong with her. They’re pure and she’s filthy. Meeting them, The Seeds was even more off putting than she expected. They’re not bad people; at least she can’t make that sort of judgment off of a five minute interaction. But, they’re off. From John’s businessman smile that didn’t meet his eyes to Joseph’s intense gaze that cut through to her soul. They hardly felt human. Though, if they weren’t off, she can’t say she’d feel any different, given her hatred of religion.

She hasn’t ventured to step foot in the church in Falls End and hasn’t talked to the pastor there either; a streak she plans to maintain. Unless they need her out there as a cop, she’s not spending casual time there. Even free food isn’t enough to tempt her into spending time at church. She takes a shower, watches tv with a lackluster microwave meal as dinner and tries not to think about that family for the rest of the night.

The Seeds are already close to a distant memory as she works the next day; stuck as a desk jockey to her misery. Filling out paperwork for hunting violations; that and traffic violations are the biggest crimes of Hope County. She understands the importance of protecting the environment and the animals but does the paperwork for it feels like fucking overkill. Her hands are cramping from typing and signing shit, all because a bunch of idiots decided to go hunting bucks out of season.

Something pings off her skull, a crumpled piece of paper falling to her desk after hitting her. She glares at Pratt who’s smirking like the little shit he is. She throws it right back, pelting his cheek when he turns away. He rips another piece of paper from a notebook, crumpling it up into a ball and throwing it at her face only for her to bat it back at him. Then she rips a piece of paper out of her own notebook and throws it at Pratt’s dumb face.

She hits Pratt in the nose with one; it falls and adds to the pile of paper balls that’s built around them, when the door opens. Nancy, the dispatcher and secretary for all intents and purposes, popping her head in.

“Deputy Hale,” she speaks softly to catch her attention, “there’s someone here to see you.”

“Me?”

Dahlia looks over to Pratt as if he knows something but he just shrugs. She clambers up from her chair, double checking that her uniform is in order for utmost professionalism as she leaves the bullpen office; Pratt following in tow whether from curiosity or boredom she’s not sure.

In the lobby is Layla from the other night, flashing a bright smile Dahlia’s way when she emerges. She’s holding a Tupperware container and the young deputy can’t help raising an eyebrow; what is going on here?

“Deputy Hale!”

“Hey, is something wrong?”

“Oh, no, no, no,” Layla shakes her head emphatically, “I thought I’d bring you something to eat.”

She thrusts the Tupperware container out at Dahlia who reluctantly takes it, brushing across Layla’s hands and feeling the warmth of the food.

“Why?”

Pratt elbows her in the ribs when she asks the questions mouthing the words ‘don’t be rude’ at her when she looks at him incredulously. It’s a genuine question, why the fuck would Layla bring her food? Not that she’s complaining, it’s just weird.

“Well, you don’t cook right?” she notes Dahlia’s confusion, “your grocery bags last night were full of microwave meals or packaged crap, I figured you could use some decent food. As thanks, for helping me.”

“Uh, yeah cooking isn’t…a huge priority for me.”

“Her lunches are usually energy drinks and zingers,” Pratt cuts in, literally no one needs that information, so she elbows him in the ribs right back.

“That’s not good, Deputy, you should take care of yourself…eating garbage, smoking, you should be more concerned with your health.”

“I appreciate your concern, but if your meals come with lecture, I’m gonna pass,” Dahlia tries to push the container of food back into Layla’s hands.

“I’m sorry, I’m just worried about you…I think you should really reconsider coming to our barbecue Friday.”

“Not happening.”

“I’m sure, if you gave our church a chance-”

“Layla, I said no and I meant it.”

“But-“

“No buts,” Dahlia puts the food down on the counter, “I know you mean well, but you need to back off.”

With that Dahlia marches back into the office; heat simmering beneath her skin. It stings at the back of her eyes, claws and burns it’s way up her throat. She runs her hand down her face, raking her nails down the skin harder than necessary as if she could carve out her anger as if the red lines could free that feeling, release it from her body.

Stripes for the backs of fools, they are to the soul what healing blood is to a wound, for the Lord disciplines the one he loves.

She kicks her desk, the voice reverberating in her skull isn’t her own and she wishes nothing more than to carve her own head open, to cut his voice and memory out like a cancer.

“The fuck was that about?” Pratt asks as he comes into the office, nearly making Dahlia jump out of her skin. He’s carrying the Tupperware container of food, raising an eyebrow at her as if she’s grown a second head.

“I helped her out last night, some dude was harassing her, I had to wait outside a church for hours and now they’re trying to drag me to some fuckin’ barbecue.”

“And you reacted like a lunatic, because?”

“’Cause I don’t like being harassed into religious shit.”

“Eden’s Gate invites everyone to their little barbecues,” Pratt shrugs, “it's not a big deal, just some free food.”

“If I say no the first time, no the second time, no the third time; don’t ask me a fourth time. It’s not that fuckin’ complicated.”

Dahlia plops herself down in her chair, kicking at her desk again as she does so, as if it’s to blame for the mess in her head.

“Eh,” Pratt shrugs, “they don’t mean anything by it, not really.”

“I don’t like it,” she says again with a groan, pinching the bridge of her nose, why can’t people just accept she doesn’t like this. Why is she in the wrong for not wanting to be badgered?

“You’re...surprisingly sensitive, you know that?”

“Piss off, I’m not sensitive.”

“You kinda sorta are. Bail on the F.A.N.G Center ‘cause it’s too noisy, avoid bars, avoid barbecues, hate church. Do you even like being around people at all?”

“Sometimes, it just depends….like what’s going on, how many sounds there are... and stuff.”

“So, you’re sensitive.”

“Well, doesn’t it bug you! It’s manipulation, food and barbecues to trick you into a false sense of security, then bam, you’re dealing with an eight hour lecture on how god ruins your life ‘cause he loves you or some shit.”

“And...we give people coffee before interrogations and then bam, they’re in a cell. We’re not any better. Everyone is at least a little manipulative, it’s just life, why is it any worse when christians do it?”

“It’s not, I just, I just don’t like church, okay? Can we drop this?”

“Okay, okay, but if you don’t want the food…”

“Keep it, my appetites gone, just give some to Petunia.”

He rolls his eyes but, when he thinks she’s not looking he goes out back. Pratt can say what he wants but he has just a big soft spot for that opossum. The day continues with desk work; Whitehorse scolding them for the paper mess when he sees it. Hudson calls them children and honestly, they kind of are. She’s not sure why Pratt brings out that immature gremlin part of her, but at least it’s fun.

“You know, this is your fault,” Dahlia tells Pratt as she’s picking up crumpled paper and tossing it in the trash can. Whitehorse said their better not be any paper on the floor by the time they clock out. It’s getting very close to that time; Dahlia having procrastinated the clean up and, well, Pratt is still leaning back in his chair like he hasn’t got a care.

“According to you, everything’s my fault.”

“I mean, yeah, but it’s true.”

“How you figure?”

“You threw the first paperwad at me.”

“You didn’t have to throw one back.”

“You didn’t have to throw one in the first place!”

“That’s besides the point.”

“It’s literally the entire point.”

Another crumpled piece of paper rattles off her skull, plopping down to the pile. She glares up at Pratt who’s smirking like he’s the funniest person in the world. Everyone keeps telling her how Whitehorse is soft and easy on her, which may be true, she has no doubt that being sent their way by Lloyd has made the sheriff more fond of her. But, she can’t expect that to keep her safe from reprimand. She’s still on probationary hire and has to try to be on her best behavior at least some of the time.

“Pratt, you’re in more danger of getting your ass reamed than her, so you should probably watch it,” Hudson pipes up, checking her phone as they get closer to quitting time.

“No ones getting reamed, it’s paper, for fucks sake.”

“Doesn’t mean he won’t make you stay back to clean it up.”

“Eh, sounds like a job for a probie,” Pratt tells Hudson, before throwing a paper ball at Dahlia’s head. She chews her lip and adds to it; that’s a thought, Pratt getting stuck behind on clean up. She may be short, but she’s fast… Dahlia watches the time as she keeps throwing paper balls into the otherwise empty trash can.

“You’re just being an ass now,” Hudson tells him as they near the final minute of their shift. Dahlia standing up with a now filled trash can.

“Hey, Pratt,” Dahlia catches his attention, “got ya a hat.”

She promptly plops the trashcan on his head , paper falling down on him and slaps the side of it for equal measure.

“Fuckin’ hell!” He yells as she darts off, his problem now.

“Bye Hudson!” She calls out behind her as she rushes to clock out and leave the station, hyena cackling as she goes. The image of him with that trash can on his head, god she hoped Hudson managed to take a photo for her.

Her cheeks hurt from smiling, her stomach from laughing as she jumps onto her motorcycle. A peaceful ride back to the trailer park, the wind whipping past her and music rattling inside of her helmet.

Then she sees her.

Faith looks so completely out of place in front of the rundown trailer park, long white dress fluttering in the breeze as she balances on a rock near the entrance. Un-fucking-relentless. Her green eyes spark alight when she sees Dahlia pulling up on her motorcycle, waving her direction. Dahlia rides right past her, if she pretends she didn’t see her, it’s fine. She locks up her bike and makes a beeline for her trailer door.

Just as she’s closed it behind her, intent on avoiding the pushy little church mouse, a knock rings out. She can’t exactly say she’s not home, can she? The young deputy opens the door a crack, Faith standing on her porch as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, smiling when she sees Dahlia’s face poking through.

“Deputy.”

“I already told Layla off for this pushy crap, I ain’t in the mood for preaching.”

“I just wanted to chat, is that so wrong?” Faith asks as Dahlia pushes the door open just a hair more.

“Does this chat involve trying to get me into church?”

“I don’t know, we haven’t had it yet.”

“I appreciate the honesty, but,” she glances down seeing Faith’s bare feet, “are you not wearing shoes?”

“Uh...no.”

“Are you stupid?” Dahlia asks, finally opening the door fully.

“That’s rude.”

“There are needles on the ground, dumbass, needles.”

“So, walk with me and make sure I don’t get hurt.”

“Y’all really like taking advantage of my kindness, don’t you?”

“So, you don’t want to walk with me?” She pouts and bats her eyelashes up at Dahlia.

“Come on,” Dahlia tells her as she leaves, “let's get this over with.”

“Are you always so negative?”

“Life tends to do that.”

Faith walks alongside Dahlia as they leave the trailer park; watching carefully as the woman walks, to ensure she doesn’t step on anything dangerous. Not that the church mouse seems to have any concern about the issue, nearly floating along as if she’s meant to be there.

“It does, your life has worn on you a lot, hasn’t it?”

“No more than anyone else.”

“I doubt that.”

“Do you?”

“I expected to be waiting on you for longer…”

“Why?” Dahlia raises an eyebrow as Faith balances across stones in the field around the trailer park.

The white clad woman starts to wobble, sticking her arms out to balance herself from the misstep, and Dahlia instinctively sticks her own hand out to catch her. Their hands catch each other, skin brushing together. Dahlia bristles and tries to pull away, the warmth of someone else’s skin jolting her, but Faith intertwines their fingers before she can avoid the touch.

Faith’s hand is slimmer than her own, but the fingers slightly longer, more elegant. The skin softer and nicer than Dahlia’s too, smooth without calluses or scars.

“Everyone knows the deputies go to the bar after work; the one in Falls End, I assumed you’d be with them.”

“I can’t drink, legally, yet.”

“So, you can’t be there without drinking? Don’t they invite you?”

“No one wants to take a teetotaler to a bar.”

“That sounds lonely, do you have friends in the trailer park?”

The sky's alight with stars, dotting the black blanket of night. A chill in the air hangs through as the night settles in, goosebumps prickling up at the places her skin shows. She wanders how Faith stands it, in her thin white dress. Her eyes cast down at the woman and she realizes how truly thin the dress is; the soft pink of nipples just showing through. Someone should buy Faith a coat…and shoes…

“Not really a cop friendly place, pretty sure they’d rather hang me than be my friend,” Dahlia looks back to the sky, ignoring her discovery to try and find Andromeda.

“Do you have family nearby? You’re not from around here, are you?”

“I’m not close with my family and uh, from Louisiana.” That’s all the information she offers, not comfortable spilling her life story to some stranger, even a soft handed stranger with pretty eyes.

“So, you’re all alone.”

“Thank you for the observation.”

“Layla said she was worried about you, you’re alone and don’t even take care of yourself.”

“Yeah, uh, I think you all worry a bit too much about me.”

“It can be hard, accepting kindness when you’re so used to cruelty,” Faith pivots to face Dahlia and captures her other hand, intertwining the fingers there as well, “we become accustomed to the pain, thinking it’s what we deserve. So, when we are shown love, it feels wrong, unnatural, it scares us so we avoid it.”

“Are we done with this conversation? I wanna be done with this conversation.”

Dahlia yanks her hands from Faith’s, the intensity of her words and her gaze eating away at the deputy. But Faith yelps, the sudden move knocking off her balance from the little stone ledge she’s been walking along. Dahlia jumps up the ledge and recaptures one of Faith’s hands and wraps an arm around the woman’s waist, to catch her further.

They stare at each other for a moment, soft green eyes looking up at her, they’re pressed close together in this position. The warmth of the youngest Seed’s siblings body pressing against her, nearly every inch of their bodies together. Faith feels so delicate, lithe and fragile in her arms. Breath fanning across each other’s faces, the tiniest of spaces having stopped them from an accidental kiss. Any passerby might think they were dancing and Dahlia had dipped Faith.

A little...awkward, but at least Faith didn’t go tumbling back onto rocks. Pink colors the apples of Faith’s cheeks, faint across her delicate cheeks.

“You okay?” Dahlia asks, maybe the cold is stinging Faith’s skin or she was flustered from the slip?

“Just fine, thank you,” Faith says as Dahlia steps back, gently guiding Faith off the little ledge, back safely on the ground. The deputy’s eyes find the expanses of Faith’s arms, scars catching the moonlight. A chemical formula seemingly carved into one arm; each covered in track marks. Faith fiddles with a dirty blond lock of hair, focusing her gaze on the ground.

“Are we done, now?”

“I know you’re busy and I know you’re reluctant, but even if it seems like there’s no place for you anywhere, there’s always a place for you with us.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“I’ll leave you for now, then. I hope to see you soon.”

“Good night, Church Mouse, be safe.”

They part ways, Dahlia making her way back to the trailer park. She has no true desire to deal with Faith or Eden’s Gate, but she seemed less pushy at the very least. Though the conversation wasn’t anymore fun. Layla’s conversation left her nearly foaming at the mouth. Faith’s has left her wanting to find the nearest hole and bury herself in it. Yes, Dahlia is a lonely piece of shit, thank you so much for pointing it out church mouse.

She closes her trailer door behind her, more aware than ever that her trailer is empty. No one to greet her, no one to talk to. No friends to spend her nights with, no family to call or do anything with. Lloyd and Caroline are people she cares about, certainly, but she’s not their kid. She was a two-year charity case.

After a shower, Dahlia lands on the couch, watching tv again. When she thinks of it, she hasn’t slept much in her bed since moving in here. Spending most of her free time in the trailer on the couch; falling asleep watching tv, listening to music, or reading horror manga on her phone.

Dahlia tried the first night, the large bed the trailer came with clearly meant to accommodate a potential couple. She’s not sure how to distinguish bed sizes; if it’s a double, a king, a queen, whatever. But she knows every bed she’s ever slept in before, aside from a few early childhood nights of crawling into her mother and dad’s bed, she’s been in one meant for just a single person. Her childhood bed, her bed at Lloyd and Caroline’s, or she’s been without a bed entirely. Sleeping in her share of closets, on benches, on the floor, etc. She can sleep on a park bench or in the bayou muck, but not in too large of a bed. It makes absolutely no sense, but she’s use to being a cluster fuck of a human being.

She smokes a cigarette, easing her nerves, trying not to think about her conversation with Faith. The loneliness that keeps seeping into her chest and following her wherever she goes. She’s long ago accepted that it’s a part of her life now, a part of her, and no one else is to blame. There’s no place or group of people that will erase.

People, groups, like Eden’s Gate like to tell people they have the cure. That panacea to fix every trouble someone may have. They give pretty smiles and tell people that with a little bit of faith they’ll find a place where they belong. That following their ways eases that ache, makes everything okay.

But, it’s not true. Not for her at least. God never made her feel more at ease, more at peace, there’s no god strong enough to ease the ache of loneliness. Nothing on the outside can fix what’s wrong with her inside. She can sing hymns and praise the man in the sky until she’s blue in the face, but it will never make her happy.

If anything, the idea of god just pisses her off more.

Someone who is supposed to hold all the power, who knows each of his creations intimately, yet doesn’t give enough of a shit to save them. This supposed god watched and knew her suffering, knew everyone’s suffering, and didn’t care. Hell, even the bible makes it clear god is a dick.

Why the fuck should she praise him?

If he were real, she’d punch him.

Eden’s Gate likely means well; she knows that. They think they’re doing the right thing, saving her soul. All strong religious types think that way; they tell you you’re going to burn in hell as a helpful warning like letting you know your shoe is untied, they just don’t want you to get hurt.

If hell is real…eternal damnation is worth it to piss off god.

She staggers up and out of bed, the bed she doesn’t sleep in, something itches at the back of her throat. Dahlia doesn’t question it, she moves, something is climbing up her esophagus. Rough and tearing up the tender flesh. Metallic taste of blood clings to her taste buds, cloying and noxious as she runs down the hallway towards her bathroom. The fluorescent light of it is like a beacon in the twilight hours. She doesn’t remember her hallways being this long, but with the urgency of something tearing her throat open from the inside, she doesn’t question it.

Dahlia reaches her bathroom and grabs the sides of the sink, nails digging into white porcelain, the strength of her hold is the only thing keeping her grounded. She coughs and gags, spattering blood across it, staining the white. Her breath staggers and stalls unable to break past what’s clogging her throat, ripping it apart. Blood and bile coating her tongue as she tries to get it out.

She coughs and hacks to no avail, only more blood for her troubles as it carves away at her throat. Dahlia shoves her fingers into her mouth, pushing further into her throat, trying to get a hold of whatever it is, to pry it out.

Then she gags and it all comes out; full white blossoms tinged pink with her blood fall into the sink. She spits out soft stained petals and dark green leaves. The flowers from the field by the trailer park, that were outside the church, that she saw when she first saw visions of Faith. She thinks she’s free, the flowers free from her throat. When her stomach churns again, gagging and coughing as fresh blossoms burst forwards from her throat. Each one cutting off her air for a nauseating moment before she can force it out. Again and again, blood stained flowers fall from her mouth. Her vision swims as white flowers float in a puddle of blood within her sink.

Something’s wrong. Something’s wrong. Something’s wrong. Something’s wrong. Something’s wrong. Something’s wrong. Something’s wrong. Something’s wrong. Something’s wrong.

She falls to her knees, clutching at the base of her throat as she vomits again, blood and flowers splattering on her thighs. Dahlia gasps and takes in a desperate breath, throat raw and aching. Blood coating her teeth and tongue, syrupy and metallic, a petal stuck to her lips as she gasps. A soft sputtering cough sends blood spittle into her hands.

Is it over?

A tickle itches at the back of her raw and stinging throat, her stomach feels bloated with expanding and blossoming flowers ready to climb up her tender airway. She retches into her hand, bloody petals coating and clinging to her hand as she struggles to puke the rest up, blood dripping down her wrist in heavy drops.

Somewhere a woman laughs, the sound echoing in the bathroom, surrounding her. Mocking her pain or celebrating it; she can’t be certain.

Dahlia wakes up with a jolt, a cold sweat clinging to her skin as she gags and coughs, the phantom sensation of flowers in her throat. She sits on the edge of the catch, sputtering to catch her breath. Nothing is in her throat, the dream was ridiculous, vomiting flowers. But it felt real and her throat aches deeply. She rubs at the back of her neck, waiting for her heart to stop rabbiting in her chest, for the tension in her muscles to fade.

She stands from the couch and takes the short walk to her bathroom, legs wobbling as she moves. The pure clear white of her sink is a stark contrast to the red stained one, filled with flowers, in her nightmare. There’s still a tickle in her throat, a faint metallic tang of blood on her tongue; echoes of her nightmare. The faint sound of laughter still resonates in her skull as she scrubs water over her face, as if she could wash the nightmare from her mind.

#far cry 5 #fc5 #joseph seed #faith seed #this is love #dahlia hale

18 notes · View notes