#saw the text somewhere so i got inspired to draw ?

[sharks3ye]

post SA2 stuff ?

[deathclassic]

tag game wedenesday thursday

thank you @iansw0rld @sgtmickeyslaughter @spacerockwriting @rayrayor and @energievie for the tag, it's really appreciated <3

-

Name: Molly

Age: Twenty five

Location: Somewhere in Australia

And now...

Latest music discovery: I've been listening to a lot of south korean and japanese metalcore bands lately, really digging 'end these days' and 'synsnake' from south korea as well as japanese bands like 'break your fist', 'foad', 'c-gate', 'knosis', 'daybreak of silence', 'falling asleep', 'make my day', 'prompts', 'azami' and 'girugamesh'

Latest movie: final destination 3 i think

Last TV show you finished: uhhhh probablyyyy only murders in the building

Most recently started book: nope

Most recent trip out of town: i went to a funeral a few weeks ago

Most recent trip out of the country: never left the country

Most recent gift you made yourself: made? idk i have a lot of self indulgent ian and mickey drawings that are too obscure to post

Most recent gift you made to someone else: probably for the gallavich gift exchange where i drew a blink 182 inspired piece for ms-moonlight-inn

Most recent text message you received: from my mum 'i saw you in photos at bring me the horizon on twitter, looks fun! good spot'

Most recent text message you sent: lmao i sent like 5 to my mum after that one and she didnt respond to any of them! so the last one was 'here'

Last fic you read: oh! i re read @callivich 's masquerade fic this morning - weight of the world

Last drink you had: hot choccy

Last thing you ate: a piece of bread when i got home from bring me the horizon last night

Latest piece of clothing you bought: a bring me the horizon tour tee, a bring me the horizon hoodie and a bring me the horizon longsleeve,,,,,

Latest piece of advice you received: 'take the hot cross mix out of the fridge when you start mixing the buns so your hands aren't cold'

Latest piece of advice you gave: 'if you go down the sides of a crowd you're more likly to get barrier even if you didn't camp out'

Latest thing you promised yourself: go to sleep whenever you can

im really really sorry if you've been tagged and have already done it :(

@creepkinginc @heymrspatel @heymacy @gardenerian @stocious @transmurderbug @transmickey @ian-galagher @callivich @suzy-queued @crossmydna @too-schoolforcool

[schraubd]

What Quality of Language Will LLMs Converge On?

Like many professors, I've been looking uneasily at the development of Large Language Models (LLMs) and what they mean for the profession. A few weeks ago, I wrote about my concerns regarding how LLMs will affect training the next generation of writers, particularly in the inevitably-necessary stage where they're going to be kind of crummy writers.

Today I want to focus on a different question: what quality of writing are LLMs converging upon? It seems to me there are two possibilities:

As LLMs improve, they will continually become better and better writers, until eventually they surpass the abilities of all human writers.

As LLMs improve, they will more closely mimic the aggregation of all writers, and thus will not necessarily perform better than strong human writers.

If you take the Kevin Drum view that AI by definition will be able to do anything a human can do, but better, then you probably think the end game is door number one. Use chess engines as your template. As the engines improved, they got better and better at playing chess, until eventually they surpassed the capacities of even the best human players. The same thing will eventually happen with writing.

But there's another possibility. Unlike chess, writing does not have an objective end-goal to it that a machine can orient itself to. So LLMs, as I understand them, are (and I concede this is an oversimplification) souped-up text prediction programs. They take in a mountain of data in the form of pre-existing text and use it to answer the question "what is the most likely way that text would be generated in response to this prompt?"

"Most likely" is a different approach than "best". A chess engine that decided its moves based on what the aggregate community of chess players was most likely to play would be pretty good at chess -- considerably better than average, in fact, because of the wisdom of crowds. But it probably would not be better than the best chess players. (We actually got to see a version of this in the "Kasparov vs. the World" match, which was pretty cool especially given how it only could have happened in that narrow window when the internet was active but chess engines were still below human capacities. But even there -- where "the world" was actually a subset of highly engaged chess players and the inputs were guided by human experts -- Kasparov squeaked out a victory). 

I saw somewhere that LLMs are facing a crisis at the moment because the training data they're going to draw from increasingly will be ... LLM-generated content, creating not quite a death spiral but certainly the strong likelihood of stagnation. But even if the training data was all human-created, you're still getting a lot of bitter with the sweet, and the result is that the models should by design not surpass high-level human writers. When I've looked at ChatGPT 4 answers to various essay prompts, I've been increasingly impressed with them in the sense that they're topical, grammatically coherent, clearly written, and so on. But they never have flair or creativity -- they are invariably generic.

Now, this doesn't mean that LLMs won't be hugely disruptive. They will be. As I wrote before, the best analogy for LLMs may be to mass production -- it's not that they produce the highest-quality writing, it's that they dramatically lower the cost of adequate writing. The vast majority of writing does not need to be especially inspired or creative, and LLMs can do that work basically for free. But at least in their current paradigm, and assuming I understand LLMs correctly, in the immediate term they're not going to replace top-level creative writing, because even if they "improve" their improvement will only go in the direction of converging on the median.

via The Debate Link https://ift.tt/hwCIMir

[krawkpaladin]

Winning the Peace - Inspirations and Core Concepts

So, I've already posted about making a game for the first time, and to help organize some of my thoughts I'd figure I'd go through and explain what inspired this game idea narratively and mechanically, and a bit of delving into my ideas for the core systems in the game.

Narrative Inspirations

The idea from this game had always been kicking around in my skull since high school, after one evening when my parents brought home a DVD from the local library. That night, we watched the film Charlie Wilson's War, which is a highly fictionalized account of the book of the same name which talks about Operation Cyclone, or How the USA Managed To Destabilized Afghanistan For Decades To Stick It To the Soviets. While the film is generally uncritical of Operation Cyclone and the people involved in it, it does have a brief moment towards the end where Senator Wilson is shown trying to get funding to help rebuild Afghanistan, and because the Soviets have pulled out, so has any interest in funding. The narration goes "We won the war, but we lost the peace."

For whatever reason, that line stuck with teenage me. It was the first time I had ever heard that phrase as a teenager, and something about it was very compelling to me. After all, a lot of fiction just assumes that after the main conflict is over, things just sort of fix themselves (until the sequel, anyways). The story either ends with the audience safe in the knowledge that things will get better, or goes forwards to some distant denouement where the audience sees that yes, things did in fact work out.

Later, as I got more and more into the RPG space in college, I saw that in most games, the social/speaking component was not very involved. Of course, not everyone is an excellent orator when roleplaying, so it's a bit unfair to ask the bard to ad-lib their inspirational speech when they have a +12 on their sheet, but usually that was a few instances spread out between characters doing things. Not just combat, but feats of strength, adventuring, casting spells, unlocking chests, etc. There weren't very many heroes whose value lie primarily in their words in a lot of the early TTRPGs I encountered, those primarily being of the D&D and Shadowrun and Pathfinder variety.

To that end, I wanted to emulate stories that were more like Twelve Angry Men, Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, Ikiru, and more recently A Memory Called Empire. The common thread that pulls all of these stories together in my mind is specifically that the protagonists are primarily speakers. None of them get deeply physically involved in the major issues in their stories. They accomplish their deeds through their words, their rhetoric, their ability to convince other people the right thing to do.

So with all that, I ultimately created the first idea of this game that I am calling Winning the Peace. A game where the players take on the roles of political figures in their city after its liberation from the Dark Lord. Where what they say and how they say it is what affects change, not how well they can swing a sword or cast a spell.

Mechanical Inspirations

I didn't really have the mechanical vocabulary to make this sort of game though until I was introduced to what I am going to call the mechanical cornerstones of the game: The Quiet Year and Free From the Yoke. Free From the Yoke has helped me to visualize and understand how to have the player characters and the people they represent (called Communities in the game text) interact, as well as how to construct them, and the Quiet Year forms the basis of how conflict is introduced into the game.

The Quiet Year is a cooperative storytelling game about a community that was forced to leave their homes and rebuild somewhere new. Using a deck of cards as prompts, players imagine their community and draw out important places and structures on a map, changing things as they go along and are prompted by the cards. There is tracking of projects, abundances and surpluses, and contempt within the singular community, but the game only ends when the Ace of Spades is drawn from the deck (and the deck is separated by suit, so you'll get through at least 3/4ths of the deck regardless). Still, this idea of the Oracle Deck, which is also cleverly used to delineate the passing of time, has hugely informed how Events that the players will have to vote on will be generated in the game.

Last year, at about this time, I had the opportunity to play in a game of Free From the Yoke. About one year later, we had finished the planned length of the game and I really enjoyed it. Free From the Yoke is based on Legacy: Life Among the Ruins from the same publisher, but instead of a weird post-apocalyptic future, takes place in a medieval Slavic land where the spirits of the Land are real and the people have just won their independence from the Empire. While the core concept of the separation between characters and houses is present in all of the Legacy games, one thing that really stuck with me in Free From the Yoke was the concept of quick characters, which are kind of minor PCs that can be made up on the spot so that you don't have to either wrangle all of the main PCs together for an adventure or just have a solo affair going on with one character. The primary construction of player characters (Representatives, in game terms) and Communities was primarily inspired by Free From the Yoke, and Representatives especially take more inspiration from quick characters instead of a full-playbook character. Ultimately, I do want more focus to be on the Communities than on the Representatives, as Representatives will come and go. Also, this is going to be a PbtA game, which Legacy games are also based on. So yeah.

The final thing I want to talk about is, well, kind of an anti-inspiration. If you're a fan of RTS games, you'll maybe be familiar with the term C&C-style economy. Named for the Command & Conquer series of games, a C&C economy is one in which the player has 100% control of all aspects of their base-building, construction, research, and pretty much anything else that affects the game. If you've ever played a 4X game like Civilization, you've engaged with a system like this. I want to avoid this in Winning the Peace. The idea that you can perfectly mold your Community does somewhat go against the core story tone I'm hoping to achieve, so while resolving events in certain ways (i.e. what is voted on) does directly affect Community stats, the Community moves are all reactive in nature and are not always positive. I want players to feel like they are controlling their Representative, but their Community is not necessarily something they can control, only act in it's best interests when possible. I'll get into this more when I discuss Community Moves in a later dev diary.

Thanks for reading everyone! If you are interested in keeping up with these, I will be tagging them as "Winning the Peace ttrpg dev diary" for easy searching. I'll try and get these out once a week until I submit for the game jam towards the end of the month.

Now that you've made it this far, here's a reward: my two cats, Baby (top) and Zuko (bottom), being totally adorable by the window.

[alluringjae]

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.”

[mercy-burning]

Fake Fiancée - Part 3

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Reader and Spencer write letters back and forth, both of them slowly starting to fall in deeper. Category: Smut (18+) Content Warnings: Strong language, sexual themes, masturbation (male and female), sexting, face sitting Word Count: 6.3k

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

MASTERLIST

NOTE: Hello!! Sorry this has been so long in the making, but for a while my inspiration for this story absolutely disappeared, and then I tried to think of how to bridge the previous chapters to the final one with absolutely no luck. And then I re-read Part 2 and got stuck on the letter, thus this chapter was born! I didn’t want to drag this miniseries out any longer than 4 parts, and the letter format combined with other inner monologuing and description really allowed me to do that in an interesting way that hopefully doesn’t feel rushed! 

It was so much fun and very refreshing to write. I hope you like how it turned out!

Thank you all for being so patient while I get my shit together 😅 Love you guys! Enjoy 🥰

***

We've been sending letters back and forth for about a month now.

If I'm being honest, it took me about two weeks to decide whether or not I actually wanted to send one back, but could you blame me?

Here was this guy I couldn't stop thinking about after a one-night stand, only for him to catch me—months later at the same exact bar we'd met in—flirting with his friend. And then after our sexual encounter that night, all the things we said, the connection I thought we had, all of it...

He left it all behind the next morning, only to send me a letter in the mail.

I was pissed.

Sure, it was a nice letter, but the fact that he'd reduced what we had down to a piece of paper and scribbled ink had made me angrier than I cared to admit.

In retrospect, I may have overreacted.

Over time I started re-reading his words, and the more I thought about it all, the more I started to regret my anger. And more than anything, I just wanted to see him again. I couldn't stay mad at him, not when all I could picture was his pouty face and nervous hands. His sunbeam of a smile peeked through the clouds of my anger here and there, and the longer it settled, the more it bathed me in a warm light that should have made me happy. But all it did was make me long for him.

Once I'd actually started writing that first letter back, I wondered why I hadn't jumped on the opportunity in the first place. I mean, after all the cliché shit we'd experienced in our short relationship thus far, adding love letters to the mix was just as perfect as you could get, right?

Spencer,

I'm sorry it's taken me this long to finally write you back. Truthfully I wasn't sure I wanted to write you at all, but your letter kept drawing me back in. I couldn't stop re-reading it, imagining you sitting down somewhere and contemplating every word as you wrote them down. I wondered if you'd thrown out hundreds of pieces of paper after messing up when you could have just as well typed out a letter without wasting them.

And then by that point, all I could think about was just you.

I always pictured what your living room looks like, or your kitchen table, or your office, or wherever you sit down to write. I wondered if you looked like one of those hopeless writers in the movies that have a scruffy face, coffee stains on their white tee shirts, and messy hair that hasn't been washed in days due to lack of inspiration.

But in the end, the image that won out over all the others was just you as I remember.

I'm not going to lie, that image most of the time was your body above mine while I held my hand to your throat, but for the sake of romance I guess I should probably tell you what it was every other time— the outfit you were wearing the first time we met.

When I think of you, I think of your hand nervously clutching that beer bottle for dear life and the other one occasionally pushing your glasses up your nose. I think of your eyes every time they'd look away from me, probably to keep yourself from staring too long.

But the thing that always gets me the most is your smile— even when it comes in little flashes, after you've said something you probably thought was lame. You covered it up with that perfect smile.

I've dreamt of that smile nearly every night since I met you, and I wouldn't be opposed to seeing it in person again.

I'd love to meet you for dinner some time.

But since you did manage to "more or less abandon me twice now", I think it's only fair that you make it up to me first.

Make the next letter a good one, and we'll see what happens.

Yours, Y/N

P.S. I hope my handwriting is as pretty as you hoped. I'd hate to disappoint.

***

Y/N,

I'm incredibly grateful that you've given me a chance to redeem myself. Every night since I last saw you has also been spent wondering what your house looks like on the inside... What you looked like reading my letter (perhaps at your kitchen table?)

And this might sound silly, but I've also wondered what your bedroom looks like. You may be laughing at me, because I've been in your bedroom, but in my defense I was a bit preoccupied to really take notice of my surroundings— I was simply surrounded by you.

But since I've been to your home, I figured it was only fair that I invite you to mine, possibly for dinner. I don't know how to cook much— in fact I'm pretty awful at making anything that's not a can of Spaghetti-Os... But one of my co-workers is an excellent chef, and with a recipe from him and some practice under my belt, I'm sure I can pull it off.

But by "some" practice, I mean probably weeks or months of practice. So hopefully that gives you ample time to mull it over.

Perhaps in the meantime we can get to know each other through our letters. And who's to say, it might spare us the awkward "getting to know each other" stage of a first date. Though, pretty much every stage of every date is awkward for me, so it might not help at all.

Regardless, I'm very much looking forward to hearing from you again.

I do get called away for work quite often, however. So I apologize in advance if I can't get back to you as soon as I'd like.

But in any instance, you're still welcome to text message or call me. I know it isn't as romantic or personal as handwritten letters, but it's certainly practical.

Yours, Spencer.

P.S. Your handwriting is just as beautiful as I'd imagined it would be. And you could never disappoint me.

That being said, if you somehow decide that this letter wasn't up to your standards and reject my offer, I may just find myself in the deepest despair imaginable.

***

I was definitely way too in my head about this.

It was just a text. Sure, it was a risky text to send, but I had no doubt in my mind that it would be fine in the end.

So why was my stomach churning just thinking about sending it?

Some might have chalked it up to my fat ol' crush on Spencer, but I knew it ran deeper. It had to do at least a little with my history with Patrick... The man stood me up and sent divorce papers to my place of work rather than to my face... And as much as I liked to think I was completely over it, we'd been together for years, and it really did a number on me.

I didn't want to ruin this new thing with Spencer so badly that I was overthinking everything.

So even though I could see his face opening the text, my heart doing jumps at the mere thought of it, a bigger part of me worried that it would be a step too far in the wrong direction. I didn't want him to think I was only in this for... sexual reasons. Which, don't get me wrong, have been pretty damn great so far, but I really did want to get to know him and see where this went.

In the end I decided to hold off. I settled for something a little lighter.

Spencer,

Don't feel too bad about your cooking skills. I've been through my fair share of burnt frozen pizzas to know how you're feeling. So the fact that you've given yourself the opportunity to practice and learn a recipe just for me is extremely romantic, and I appreciate the thought.

I won't stop you from following through, though I'm telling you now that no amount of slaving away in the kitchen will make me change my mind about you. We could probably eat stale crackers on the floor and I'd still find you utterly fascinating.

Maybe that's a bit too extreme, but I hope you get my point.

Anyway, I'd love to come over for dinner some time. Whenever you think you're ready to show me those improved cooking skills, you just let me know and I'll happily make my way over.

In the meantime, I'm thinking of sending more with my letters. I don't want to give away too much, but I will say that I'm very crafty. And don't feel like you need to send anything in return, though I'll let you know if I ever change my mind.

Yours,

Y/N

***

In the bottom right corner of the letter, right next to her signature, was a red lipstick stain in the shape of... well, her lips. It was common sense to know that they were hers and no one else's, not just a stamp or a drawing, and rather her actual lip stain... But even without it, I would have been able to tell by their shape.

Was that pathetic?

I could hear her, picture her in front of me, hovering above me with red-painted lips in the shape of a smirk, visibly cooing as she called me names... I could feel the ghost of her fingertips trailing up my throat and tilting my chin up to look at her as she rocked her hips teasingly into mine...

The whine I let out truly was pathetic.

You pathetic, needy little thing, I could hear her say...

My hands clutched the paper so tightly I thought I'd tear it, but it didn't matter when all I could see while staring at it was her luscious, red lips... Her voice was right there in my ear, like she was really beside me, watching me...

Oh, God, what would she do if she saw me right now? Staring at her lipstick stained paper and subconsciously grinding down into my chair...

You pathetic, needy little thing...

My hips jolted with a small, broken shout of her name, and in no time the front of my pants were flooded with warmth. I felt her eyes burning into me from the void, sparking to life with amusement as her voice crept into the deep corners of my brain and whispered praises to me.

Ohh, what a good little whore... Getting off to the thought of me... That's it, sweet boy... Come for me...

By now my eyes had squeezed shut and the letter was crumpled in my hand, the other reaching down to add much-appreciated burning friction to my crotch as I rode out my orgasm. My whole body tensed and shuddered at every sensation, from Y/N's image behind my eyes to the sweet warmth that pooled in my underwear and soaked through onto my hand.

Holy mother of—

The next time I saw her, I was screwed. I wouldn't be able to keep a straight face. I'd surely go red the second I laid eyes on her, and she'd know right away what I was thinking and feeling.

Simply put, it scared and excited me at the same time.

She'd utterly and thoroughly wrecked me, and if she didn't already know it, she certainly would soon.

Y/N,

I'm not sure what you intend to send in addition to your letters, but if it's anything near the sentiment of your lip stain, then you might have to refrain in favor of my poor, fragile heart.

See, it aches for you. It's bad enough I think of you always, but the moment I saw the shape of your lips on that letter, my heart almost shot straight out of my chest. Maybe it was the familiar shape of your lips or the implications of its place next to your name, signed after the word 'yours', that sent me into a tailspin, but whatever the case...

I'm pretty sure I've completely fallen under your spell.

I suppose I should also tell you that my heart wasn't the only part of my body that came to life at your added signature. I assure you, it took no time at all for me to come undone at the thought of your lips pressing gently against the paper, imagining that they were instead pressing to my skin... I didn't even have to touch myself, really. It just happened. Because of you and you alone.

I hope that wasn't too forward, but I felt it necessary that you know just how much of an effect you have on me.

If I could see you again in a millisecond, it wouldn't be soon enough.

That being said, I am determined to spend as much time as possible to perfect this dish for our dinner. Because you deserve nothing but the best, even if you insist that you could settle for less.

It's the least I can do.

Yours, Spencer.

And a week and a half later, when I didn't get a letter back on time, I was sure I'd messed up for good.

My mind was racing a mile a minute, yelling at myself for even thinking for a second of being that detailed in a letter without any consent. Sure, she'd taken it a step up by signing off her letter with a kiss, but I'd been absolutely idiotic in telling her that I got off to it.

I was honestly well and truly prepared to show up at her house with a big bouquet of flowers and an apology so wordy and probably too long for anyone's liking, in hopes that she'd forgive me for making this huge mistake.

Thankfully, though, it wasn't needed.

My phone chimed as I was pacing, my lip near bloody with how hard I'd been chewing at it, and I saw an unknown number attached to a text message and photo attachment.

The photo wouldn't load (I would have to plug it into my laptop and transfer the image there to see it— a fact which always irked Penelope to the core), but with the sentences I saw above the file, I almost knew exactly what I'd find when I had the means to see it.

There. Now we're even... Who says text messages can't be romantic and personal? XXX, Y/N

I felt like Bambi as I scrambled to my laptop three rooms over, stumbling over weak legs with my phone clutched tightly in my hand. My heart raced faster than it ever had as I started everything up and retrieved the right cord for my phone. With a few shakes and stumbles here and there, I briefly entertained the idea of upgrading my phone.

I probably would have left the apartment to do it immediately after seeing her photo attachment, but the moment it loaded up on my screen, my brain and body lost all ability to function properly.

A familiar burn coursed through the lower half of my body and tightened my chest at the sight of her, open and exposed and... wet.

My laptop screen was completely taken over by the image of Y/N's pussy, visibly glistening and aroused. A manicured hand—her hand— was in frame as well, middle finger resting snugly between the supple skin of her wet lips.

The fact that I only tasted her once felt downright cruel.

I tried to imagine it again— my face buried between the softness of her thighs. As much as I wanted to lay her down and indulge myself as long as possible, taking all the time in the world to slowly devour her and truly explore her for myself, what ran through my mind then was something more in the vein of our dynamic thus far.

My mind wandered, specifically to a place where I was the one laying down as she sat down directly onto my face and gave me what she thought I deserved. My hands were tied to the bed, maybe handcuffed. All I knew was that I couldn't touch her, and it bothered me. So I whined, and every time the sound left my mouth, she would let up, lifting further out of reach and causing me to instinctively reach my head up to chase her.

You greedy little slut... Take what I give you...

Desperately seeking her approval, I told her I'd be good and rejoiced when she lowered herself down to me again, allowing me to me completely wrapped up in her once more. My tongue lapped and lapped, gathering as much of her as I could before she'd inevitably leave again.

But she never did.

Somehow I kept my quiet, even though it was extremely difficult, and ate her out like my life depended on it. She glided smoothly over my face, coating more than just my lips in her arousal, and it thrilled me to my very core.

Every time I breathed in I could smell her, every time she groaned out my name my stomach fluttered, and it wasn't long before she was clutching my hair, shaking above me while I drank her in and repressed my whines.

My hips were uncontrollable though, bucking up into nothing and begging for any type of stimulation.

But then suddenly it was there— Her hand, firmly wrapping around my dick and gliding over it beautifully with a slickness that she must have transferred from her pussy. I could still taste her as I cried out her name, her movements quickening with every second until—

I didn't even realize I was actually alone until my eyes opened, cum coating my hand, my heartbeat heavy and loud, and the laptop screen in front of me a shade darker signaling a long period of inactivity.

I'd done it again...

And now we most certainly were not even.

I glanced over at my phone—plugged into the laptop—and then down at my lap, and my stomach knotted as my next move rang clear as day.

***

I woke up the next morning to texts from Spencer, and my heart picked up speed, a gentle warmth blooming through my chest at the sight.

I thought maybe he'd thank me for the photo I'd sent. Maybe he'd return it with an influx of messages along the lines of Oh my god, Holy fuck I miss you, and the like.

But what I wasn't expecting was to see a photo in return, of his hand that I'd dreamt of nearly nightly, wrapped firmly around his cock and all of it completely covered in cum.

Below the photo were three messages in a row, and each one gave me more butterflies than the last.

Sorry for low quality. No smartphone.

Also sorry we're not even anymore.

But I'm not sorry I did it- you're too perfect to resist.

***

Dearest Y/N,

I'm sorry you haven't gotten a letter from me in a while. And I know we've kept in touch through texting and calling while I was swamped at work, though now that I have some time off, I'd love to write you again. As much as I enjoy our virtual conversations, I still find sending letters to be my preferred method of communication (only second to speaking with you in person, that is).

Which brings me to the main point I'm trying to make.

I want to see you again. In person. I'm not completely confident in my cooking ability yet, but if you wouldn't mind the potential of it tasting awful, I'd love to have you over. I promise you nothing but the best, and I know that's a high promise, especially considering I probably haven't sold you on the meal, but it's true.

I'd do anything to please you.

And I really do mean 'anything', I hope you understand that.

Yours, Spencer.

***

The thought of seeing him in person again after so long made my hands way shakier than I would have liked. It made no sense the longer I thought about it, because it was obvious that we liked each other, and seeing each other in person wouldn't be a problem. Because it'd never been a problem before.

It irked me.

Still, I knocked on his door and physically shook out my hands, praying I could keep my cool when he finally opened the door.

But I should have known better.

One second I was staring at a large plank of wood, and the next I was staring into frantic eyes, golden and sparkling just as I remembered, but with an added glimmer of fear that matched the shakiness of my hands.

I don't know how long we stood there, just staring at each other, but the longer we did, the more we relaxed. His fear was gone, and the shaking in my hands turned into a dull hum that longed to reach out for him.

Still, I refrained, settling on a simple, "Hey, pen pal..."

By the way he looked at me, silent as ever, I started to wonder if that was a stupid thing to lead with. So I opened my mouth to apologize, to say anything else, but he beat me to it.

"Y/N... I... H—Hi, you look... incredible."

"O—Oh, thanks... Thank you, yeah, I um... figured I should... dress up a little. I know we're not going out anywhere, but I thought it might be nice."

He doesn't need to know that, Y/N, stop talking!

I gave him a small smile and a nervous laugh in an attempt to stop myself, hating how I was so nervous around him.

Spencer didn't seem to mind, though. He let me in and closed the door behind me as I quickly glanced around his apartment. It was littered with greens and browns, books everywhere, and I'd never felt more at home.

"Is it, uh... What you expected?"

"Hmm?" I turned to meet him, his soft voice pulling me from my wandering eyes.

"My apartment."

"Oh! Yeah, it's very you... I love it."

The compliment had his cheeks turning pink, and there was nothing I wanted to do more than kiss them over and over again.

And just like that, once again we were caught just staring at each other. I didn't know what he was thinking, and honestly, I didn't know what I was thinking either. All I knew in that moment was that Spencer Reid was standing right in front of me, close enough to touch, and I wanted to give in.

I was so wrapped up in the idea of feeling him that I almost didn't hear him speak. I wouldn't have heard him at all had it not been for his lips moving.

"I'm sorry, I haven't started dinner yet..."

"That's okay," I reassured. Or, at least I tried to. Really, though, I think it sounded more like I was uninterested in what he was saying, my voice flat and lifeless as I continued to stare at him.

Suddenly we were closer, and I had to look up higher to see his face, butterflies swarming in my stomach at the way he looked down at me.

"You're sure?"

"Mhm."

"I can start it now if you're getting hungry."

Food isn't what I'm hungry for, is what I thought. I almost said it, too, because he was even closer now, his hands coming out to touch mine. If they were humming before, they were certainly blaring with life now, growing hot under his light touch. And it took everything I had not to look down, because it had been too damn long since I'd seen his hands in person, and I wanted them on me immediately.

He could tell, too. He could sense my urgency, feel the longing radiating off my presence, and I knew this because I could feel his, too. His eyes practically dared me to say what I was thinking, and so I did.

"Don't you dare."

It was hard to tell who moved in first, but it really didn't matter.

I was here, in his apartment, feeling his lips glide over mine with reckless abandon, and that's all that mattered.

His hands gripped my waist so tightly I would have thought he was trying to hold me in place, to make sure I wasn't ever going to leave his sight again. And if that was the case, I would have let him hold me there forever.

My hands, meanwhile, clutched at his hair, forcing myself closer and closer to him with every sharp tug. I reveled in the way he whined into my mouth with every little thing I did, whether it was a tug of the hair or a roll forward of the hips, or even a swipe of my tongue over his.

He was putty in my hands yet again, and just like every time before, it turned me into a fucking goner.

Being with Spencer wasn't like anything I'd ever known. And the only other thing I'd known was Patrick. He didn't want me, not really, and even though he was good to me in the beginning, it was never like this.

I didn't come over to his apartment with shaking hands. I didn't send him fucking love letters almost weekly, and I certainly didn't get kissed like this...

Spencer was drunk on me, and I wasn't any sober myself.

"That picture you sent me..." I mumbled over his lips, still keeping myself as close as I could while I got out what I needed to say. "Where did you take that?"

We kissed for a few more seconds, unable to stay apart, before he answered, his voice just as breathy and brimming with desperation as mine. "My office. Just down the hall."

I kissed him again, hard, and then pulled back to look him in the eyes. They widened when I said, "Show me."

He dragged me through the apartment on rushed legs, and I almost laughed at the urgency, only stopped by the realization that I was just as urgent. It occurred to me that perhaps my laughing at his urgency might just be a slight turn on for him, given our history with my playful degradation, but still I pulled back— Tonight felt... different.

It didn't feel like we were headed in the direction of me calling him my dirty little whore throughout the night, and it was something I was more than okay with. In fact, I welcomed it, excited to see where this new night would take us.

We ended up in his office, which remained more or less the same aesthetic as the rest of his place. In the middle sat a small desk with a laptop and some papers scattered about on it, accompanied by a tall floor lamp and a rolling desk chair.

"Where were you exactly?" I mused, gripping his hand tightly and buzzing at the way his fingers flexed against my own.

"In the chair... I pulled the photo up on my laptop."

"Right. No smartphone."

Spencer hummed in confirmation before dragging me along to the chair, and I fucking giggled as he plopped down and practically pulled me right on top of him, the chair rolling back a foot or two. I went down for a bright, messy kiss that ended with his hands clutching my ass over my skirt and my own cradling his face.

His growing bulge nudged right up into my inner thigh, and I groaned lightly in his mouth, my fingers dragging softly down his jaw and neck until I reached his shoulders.

"What were you thinking about?"

He raised his eyebrow, and I rocked my hips forward with a sly grin, hoping to get my point across. "When you were looking at my picture, in this very chair, what were you thinking about?"

Seeing his eyelids stutter and his tongue dart out at my movements sent a rush through me, and I moved my hips once more to emphasize my urgency.

"I... I thought about you... riding my face. You tied my hands..."

"Oh?" I sighed, rocking forward again and humming into his neck. "Well, that can definitely be arranged if you want it bad enough..."

"Please, Y/N, yes... Please..."

The need dripping from every syllable made it near impossible to breathe, and I was suddenly very inclined to give him everything he wanted. With or without the begging.

So I reluctantly peeled away from him and stood up on weak legs. Staring at Spencer as he sat there, leaning back in the chair with disheveled hair and obvious desire in his eyes, made it all the better when I took my panties off from under my skirt and motioned for him to come forward. "On your knees?"

I would have demanded it in any other situation, but I was feeling a bit more sweet this time around.

And he seemed grateful for it, sliding the chair back further and getting down in front of me. I reached out and played with his hair, trying my hardest to commit his beautiful face to memory. I wanted it burned there for the rest of time.

"Hands?"

Spencer offered his hands to me, and I hummed happily, doing my best to tie his hands together with a makeshift knot from my panties. It wasn't really tight or secure, but it was enough for him to whine as he set them in his lap.

He watched intently as I dropped my skirt—a bit redundant now, but I thought it'd be a nice way to get him more excited. Plus I wanted to see his face (or at lease what I could see of it while it was buried between my legs).

I stepped forward then, looking down at him with a smile while my hands reached out to comb through his hair. "You ready?"

"Uh huh."

The look in his eyes right before I came forward and hovered over his face almost made my come on the spot.

But as fun as that would have been, I was glad for the way my body held off and settled for a beautiful, burning increase of pleasure that dragged out the longer he swiped his tongue through my folds. Actually, I forgot for a moment that I was supposed to be moving, riding his face like he'd thought about.

I willed my eyes open and clutched Spencer's soft locks of hair beneath me, gently rolling my hips and grinding down further on his face.  The groan he let out not only felt good against my skin, but it sounded like pure bliss, eliciting a small whimper of my own as I tightened my grip in his hair and rocked faster.

"God, I missed having your mouth on me, baby... You're... so good..."

The longer I spoke the more breathless I became, not because the words didn't come easily, but because I truly believed them to be true.

Spencer really was so fucking good, his tongue the most delicate, divine object of the universe as it drew out every ounce of delight from my body. I may have been the one above him, calling the shots and directing him where and how to please me, but he was the one who clung to my soul like static and politely guided me towards damnation.

I wasn't even sure of my surroundings to tell you the truth. As my body tensed and took me through one of the most blinding pleasures I'd experienced in weeks, My eyes were squeezed so tightly it's like I saw the universe. All I knew was Spencer's lips sucking my clit and my hands deeply rooted in his hair as I shouted incoherently, stars swirling around behind my eyelids.

Truly, for all I knew, we could have been in space. It wouldn't have made any difference.

But eventually it came to be too much. I was reaching a limit I didn't want to get to so quickly, and so I flashed my eyes open and tried to adjust to this brand new atmosphere, unweaving my fingers through pretty brown waves of hair and stepping back to assess the situation.

What I found was the most beautiful man I'd ever known, panting like he'd just ran a marathon and yet harboring the most intense joy and desire a person could hold. He was on his knees, bound hands writhing in his lap as he awaited further instruction and licked up as much of myself on his face as he could before I stopped him.

Under normal circumstances, I would have wanted to absolutely ruin him. That adoring, desperate look in his eye would have spurred me to more devious endeavors, but all I wanted in this moment was to make sure he was satisfied. I wanted to take care of him, to let him know that I longed to make him feel as worshipped and adored as he'd made me feel.

I got down to Spencer's level, quickly removing the fabric from his wrists and hauling him to his feet, where he now towered over me, still waiting for words to address and instruct him.

Instead, I leaned up with soft hands upon his cheeks and pulled him down to meet my lips in a kiss that changed the tone entirely. It was erotic still, of course, what with my arousal infiltrating my taste buds and eliciting a soft sigh from the both of us, but our urgency manifested in sweeter ways... Softer lips, gentle touches of the face, and an exchanging of breath that was so smooth and seamless it felt like we were floating on air.

I was finding it hard to breathe again, but it wasn't an issue in the slightest. In fact, there was nowhere else I'd rather have been than right there, kissing Spencer Reid like we had all the time in the world.

When the breathlessness was a little too much to bear, we pulled away, though only leaving just enough space to breathe. Our lips stayed briefly connected while we caught up, and his hands found their way to the sides of my face. The way they practically engulfed my whole head brought a brief smile to my lips as I finally gave him the words he was looking for.

"I'm so glad I met you," I whispered.

"Funny, I was just thinking the same thing."

We kissed each other again, naturally and with so much ease that I wondered how I had ever lived without him.

And then, as my hands slid gently down his chest, I felt it.

Something that felt very much like a ring attached to a necklace sat right where his heartbeat resided, and I knew exactly which ring it was.

"W—" I pulled back and circled the shape of it with my finger through the shirt, then looked up at him. "Is that what I think it is?"

Spencer looked briefly panicked, pulling away a little and fishing down the front of his shirt for the chain. "Oh... Um, yeah. I, um... I forgot to take it off, I'm sorry. I..."

"You... kept it?"

I observed the diamond as it laid flat on my palm, still attached to the chain and around his neck. Honestly, after all this time I figured he'd never found it or gotten rid of it, seeing as he never brought it up. And yet there it was, glittering in the palm of my hand as my other one presses firmly against Spencer's rapidly beating heart.

"Y—Yeah... It um... It was really the only physical thing I had to remember you—Well, at least until we started sending letters... And I guess I just... W—Wearing it has become such a habit that I forgot to take it off."

"You never take it off?"

I could tell he was nervous, and rightfully so given I wasn't really letting on how I was feeling about the whole thing.

Still, he answered my short question in such a small whisper I'd have thought he was trying not to get in trouble.

"No."

"Why?"

My words certainly weren't helping ease his anxieties, so I remained close, dropping the ring and focusing rather on his eyes. I softened the look in my own and glided my hands down to hold his. His fingers flexed against mine, squeezing them for dear life as he sighed out in relief and flashed me a soft smile.

"Because... I wanted you close to my heart."

With a smile that mirrored his eyes, full of enchantment and pure adoration for the person in front of me, I didn't use my brain and instead focused on what my heart was telling me, consequences be damned.

"I think I might love you..."

Spencer squeezed my hands tighter, that relief spreading out to all his features and brightening that beautiful smile.

"Funny... I was just thinking the same thing."

Our lips met once more, and I swear it was like nothing bad was ever going to happen for the rest of time.

I'd never felt that way. Not once with Patrick did my heart feel settled into place, even during the great parts of our relationship.

And now here I was, with a man who sent me love letters and kept every physical reminder of my existence, who kissed me like I was the most precious thing in the world and slowly mended my wounded heart.

He held me close the whole way to his bedroom and never let me go until the morning. Though, even then his arms outstretched towards me and his fingers flexed, needing to grab onto any part of me that he could find.

And as I was sure I always would, I welcomed him with open arms.

***

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[itsclydebitches]

I kinda wonder, what could bakugou do (hori write bakugou to do) to make him less popular with the "anti" crowd. Like He was a horrid child no doubt and people who try to put blame on Deku or lessen the terrible shit bakugou did aren't great. But as we don't rly see it, we have to assume bakugous behaviour wasn't stopped, we only ever saw his mum "punishing" him when he was being rude after getting kiddnapped. Nothing will excuse what bakugou did, but he has stopped? He's overall a harsh person but he's not harrassing and bullying people anymore, specifically not deku, he's trying to attone for what he did to deku and has now apologised for it. His behaviour was never viewed as justified or good in the series, he's a scary figure in middle school, we're not meant to like his behaviour, so the series itself hasn't justified his actions.

As someone who relate to both bakugou and deku more than I'd like to admit (never told someone to jump tho, that's fucked lol) so I can 100% understand not liking or even hating bakugou but as someone who's not 15 anymore, looking back I also made a lot of really shitty decisions and like bakugou have tried to make up for it, and like deku I was 'friends' with people who hurt me.

Is there anything he can do for the "antis" to just dislike him rather that be "anti"?

(I'm very sorry if you've talked about this somewhere, you can just tell me to look for it if you have, I'll continue to look for your posts on the subject)

Hey there, anon! I think I’ve spoken about this only tangentially and/or in my main Bakugo meta, which is too big for anyone sane to read. So yeah, let’s chat here!

For me personally—and that’s all I can ever do: speak personally. I think it’s important to keep in mind that there is no single solution to please the “anti” crowd. Each fan will be looking for something slightly different in Bakugo’s character, much of which might contradict what a “stan” is currently enjoying. Given how charged a character he is, I'm not sure it's possible to get the entire fandom to like him—what I’m looking for hinges on having a different reading of the story than you seem to. Meaning, I think the series does justify his behavior. Not in any overt, super obvious way like having all the characters go, “Wow, Bakugo! I sure do love how you threaten people all the time. That’s super cool and heroic!” Things are rarely that straightforward. Rather, it’s in a more subtle, but consistent manner that paints a rather conclusive picture across hundreds of chapters.

Simply put, Bakugo is continually rewarded for his actions. Or, if not outright rewarded, his actions are ignored in a way that implies silent acceptance. Characters may not always like what he does... but they're willing to let it slide because Bakugo's heroism was always treated as a given, not something he had to earn and prove.

With the ever necessary disclaimer that I’m not fully caught up yet, here’s a list of some of the things that stood out to me in the first half of the series:

Bakugo’s bullying made him the most popular kid in school.

Bakugo’s bullying was ignored by/outright supported by the teachers.

Bakugo’s bullying did not hinder him from getting into U.A., one of the most prestigious hero schools around.

Despite acting horribly throughout his time at U.A. too, this behavior was continually ignored by the teachers and other authority figures around him.

Bakugo’s struggle to realize that other people aren’t “trash” doesn’t hurt his achievements in any way. He still gets top scores, still wins the tournament, etc.

Bakugo’s behavior gets him special attention from All Might, the greatest hero and Bakugo’s personal idol.

His behavior doesn’t make others dislike him in any manner that’s taken seriously. Everybody is still willing to not just put up with Bakugo, but—in time—start treating his behavior as a quirk (no pun intended lol) that they’re secretly fond of, rather than something he should legitimately be striving to change. Kirishima is the most overt example of this.

This is compounded by his behavior constantly being framed as humorous. Much like with Mineta’s perverted actions, characters might superficially go, “No, that’s bad!” but the story never demands any significant development because then we’d lose the “joke” of Bakugo screaming in rage at the slightest inconvenience, threatening to murder someone over nothing, constantly belittling everyone around him in a “funny” manner, etc. When fans talk about development of a manga character as archetypal and extreme as Bakugo, most don’t really want to see significant change to his base personality. Because then that would result in someone who doesn’t look like the “real” Bakugo: someone nicer, more even-tempered, more mature, etc. But for those of us who were never drawn to that personality in the first place, the continued acceptance of his rude, egotistical, and violent behavior is discomforting. The easiest comparison I can draw is between this and Bakugo’s mother slapping him. That slap is meant to be another “joke”—we see it constantly in shonen anime, something "humorous" you shouldn’t take too seriously because haha, it's just an overprotective mother—but many fans do take it seriously, using it as the basis for a whole “Bakugo was abused and this explains his behavior” reading. Well, I take the “joke” of Bakugo’s threats and insults seriously, especially in a story that starts with something like telling Izuku to jump off the roof. In the same way that many fans want others to treat Bakugo’s mother as a serious topic that has had a negative influence on his development, I want the series to take Bakugo’s everyday actions seriously as a negative influence on… well, everyone around him. But it doesn’t. His base personality is grudgingly adored.

The above two points are seen most overtly in Izuku, who never wavers in his respect for Bakugo despite how Bakugo treats him. Not just prior to U.A., but during their training too. Izuku, as the protagonist, is the emotional heart of this tale, so when he talks about how inspiring Bakugo is, it encourages the reader to see his behavior as inspiring too. Rather than, as said, something that needs to change. Izuku's continued friendship with Bakugo, his adoration of him, and his acceptance of the way he's treated has severely warped how the entire story sees Bakugo's actions. After all, if #pure Izuku can see the good in Bakugo, why can't everyone else? He must not be that bad after all.

I could get into detailed analyses of all the above—like how Bakugo was the one comforted after attacking Izuku outside the dorms at night and how the messed up relationship he has with Izuku is upheld as something to nurture; how the remedial courses he had to take were made to be rather silly, thereby undermining their supposed importance to his development; how Bakugo’s kidnapping had nothing to do with his flaws, but much of the fandom uses it as a way to dismiss any appropriate consequences because, “Hasn’t he suffered enough?” etc.—but in the interest of keeping this within a readable length, I’ll leave it at that. The point is that Bakugo has always been privileged when it comes to his behavior, resulting in others either outright praising it, ignoring it, or demanding that he change a miniscule bit, which always keeps him far below the standards of both his peers and the expectations of a hero. Everyone in 1-A must learn to be even better than the good people they already are... Bakugo needs to learn that other people aren't dirt at the bottom of his shoes. It's never been a particularly impressive development when pit against the rest of the class. All of which can make something like an apology feel pretty hollow. Yes, he’s apologized and I say with all seriousness that that’s great! But how does that apology stack up against 300+ chapters of content? As Bakugo’s words highlight, he's been a really awful person up "until now": he was consumed by Izuku being “miles ahead of [him],” he “looked down on [him]” because he didn’t have a quirk, he “didn’t want to recognize that,” he “hated that,” “grew distant,” “tried to beat you down,” “opposed you and tried to show my superiority over you,” and ends it all with, “it probably doesn’t mean anything telling you all this” before finally getting to the “I’m sorry.” This is basically a laundry list of how horrible a person Bakugo has been for the entire series, with an acknowledgement that this apology is coming really, really late. This is the moment where I could START to like Bakugo, depending on how he acts form here on out, but that pivotal moment arrived after six years of content and in the final arc of the story. It’s too late. Bakugo needed this kind of self-reflection and positive action 250+ chapters ago so he could (hopefully) grow into a better person across the story, not at the story's end. What we got instead is 322 chapters of him being a really horrible person, but the story going out of its way to excuse or even praise that behavior the majority of the time.

As a quick comparison to end on, I think what Bakugo needed was what Soo Jin got in True Beauty. You don’t need to have seen the drama to follow along. The tl;dr is that she has a lot of the core qualities of Bakugo: an all-consuming drive to win that was created due to abusive parents with high expectations, resulting in her bullying a peer to a pretty horrific extent. The difference between them is how the story frames their actions. When Soo Jin becomes the bully she loses everything. Rather than succeeding academically, her grades plummet, making it clear that this anxiety and self-doubt (things the fandom keeps insisting Bakugo is struggling with, but that rarely ever show up in the text) is actually impacting her day-to-day life. Her best friend drops her because she’s not going to support her choices. The boy she likes rejects her. She’s eventually forced to start over somewhere new - which importantly separates her from the girl she was bullying - and get some distance from her parents, resulting in the growth needed to become a healthier, happier, good person again. So when Soo Jin apologizes to the girl she hurt, it feels earned. The story continually recognized how horrific her actions were and put her into a place where she either had to change, or continue losing at everything else that was important to her. Bakugo? Bakugo doesn’t lose. Oh, he claims he does because he’s comparing himself to Izuku constantly, but that’s just him thinking in extremes. He still wins academically. Still wins many battles. Still wins at having friends. Still wins by maintaining the prestige of being a U.A. student. Still wins by getting All Might’s attention. Still wins by receiving Izuku’s respect and an agreement to maintain this rivalry that Bakugo is so obsessed with. Bakugo comes out well 99% of the time, he just thinks he's "lost" because he can't stand not being the absolute best.

For me, the story needed to have Bakugo face consequences for his behavior, not receive rewards and/or have others ignore it, and that revelation/apology needed to come way, way sooner. For me the issue is not a specific action that Horikoshi can have Bakugo do in the next chapter and them bam, I like him now. The problem is Bakugo’s entire concept, how he’s received by the entire cast, and his run across this entire series. "Entire" is the key word there. Which is why the “But he’s apologized. What more do you antis want?” reactions don’t sit well. What we wanted is a better written redemption arc across those 300+ chapters, not a single scene that’s meant to have us forget all the other problems inherent in the story. At this point it’s a far more complicated situation than, “Bakugo just needs to do X, Y, and Z and then we’re golden.” At the end of the day, Horikoshi failed to make me like him as a person and I’m pretty sure he isn’t going to change Bakugo enough to make him likable to me. Bakugo was never the sort of character I’d be inclined towards without a serious, nuanced redemption arc, but sadly, a core, crucial part of that redemption arc took six years to arrive. At this point there’s no way to change the problems in Bakugo’s writing for that huge chunk of the series and not enough time left in the series, it seems, to do the work we should have seen across the entire run. Honestly, idk if the Bakugo we'll get going forward is someone I can just dislike as opposed to being really uncomfortable with, but my money is on there being too little story left and too much investment in upholding Bakugo's base personality for that to happen. I could absolutely be proven wrong! But I think the problems are structural and needed to be better dealt with from page one, not hastily patched over in the final hour.

[dontmindmyshadowhunting]

When Clary meets Ash (Fan Fic)

Hey :) this is how I imagine Clary and Ash's reunion (after the events of TDA) in the fic I am currently writing.

It's Chapter 5 of "The new Shadowhunter Academy" (Ao3 link to the full fic is here but don't click or skip Chapter 4 if you are not in for Kitty sexy times).

Thanks to @amchara for providing beta work and to @blaidr for letting me bounce my ideas off him.

To give you context, Ash met Dru in Faerie and they exchanged their numbers. Clary seized the opportunity to obtain Ash's number from Dru and write him the following text message:

“Hey, Ash. Dru gave me your number and please don’t be angry with her, I am very strong headed and there was absolutely no way she could have refused. I am Clary. You may have heard of me. I am your late father’s sister. That’s right, your aunt. You can call me whatever you like. Emma told me what you did in Thule, how you saved her. How you saved everyone. That was very brave of you. In a way, both of us were faced with a very difficult choice and made the same. Doing what we thought was right. I would love to meet you and tell you about my mother – your grandmother – or just talk about anything. It can be things totally unrelated to the Shadow world. Hobbies, movies, books and games we like. You can pick the time and place. Neutral territory. Hope to see you soon. Clary.”

This is what happens following the text:

*****

Clary wrapped her oversized woolen coat tighter around herself, as she made her way through the crowded streets of Manhattan. The route was familiar. She took it almost every week to meet up with her parabatai and have what they called their “mundane hour”. They talked about everything, from Clary’s art to the latest TV shows they had binge watched. No topic was off the table, save for anything related to Shadowhunter duties, and the Shadow world in general. As co-head of the New York Institute and since recently, artist owning her own gallery, her weeks were very busy so she looked forward to those rare and precious moments when she could escape with Simon. Her heart rate seemed to accelerate with each of her steps, and it didn’t help that she also had the strange feeling she was being observed. When she reached her destination, she took a deep breath and opened the double glass doors leading her inside the coffee shop. She and Simon had their regular routine there, and her gaze went automatically to their usual spot, near the large windows.

A broad-shouldered jock with a baseball jacket was already sitting there, speaking loudly to his cheerleader girlfriend. Two of his friends were standing next to him, mock punching his muscular arms. It made her realize that Ash probably never had this. High school friends and romance. Ash. She was still struggling to figure out why he had asked her to meet up at this place, at the exact time she usually got there with Simon. Was it him being considerate, a clumsy way to make her feel comfortable in familiar surroundings? Or was it a warning? I know your habits, and precisely where you take your coffee, when and with whom.

Her gaze swept over the crowded room - her heart seemed to have moved up her throat, the frantic pulse almost choking her - and zeroed on a tall, white blond haired boy ordering coffee at the counter, standing with his back to Clary. She sucked in a breath. Ash. He was fully clothed in black - Dru had told her that was his usual style - and huge headphones were covering his ears. She slowly and cautiously approached him and when she was close enough, put a tentative hand on his elbow. “Ash,” she whispered. The boy glanced over his shoulder, his blue eyes quizzical and… it was not Ash.

She mumbled an apology.

“Clary,” said a voice coming from behind, and she froze. It was not a boy’s but a man’s voice, the sound beautiful and ethereal. She just stood there for a few seconds before she slowly turned.

What had she expected? Merely a taller version of the young boy with pointy ears and a sour expression that she had met three years before, dressed in the same refined velvet clothing threaded with gold that identified him as fey royalty?

If so, she had clearly been mistaken.

She blinked a few times to make sure her mind wasn’t playing tricks. He was tall, as she had anticipated (Sebastian had been after all). At least two heads taller than her and probably taller than Jace. But he was also very different from the Ash of her memories, from the sketches she had drawn of him after they had crossed paths. He had amazingly grown into his features, his face now the best combination of the Seelie Queen and Sebastian’s. As if he had picked the most alluring colours of the palette. And the result was… Stunning. Clary’s hand twitched, aching for a pencil.

He was not dressed in black, but in plain blue jeans and he had stuffed his hands in a very elegant, long pale gray cashmere coat. His white blond hair and pointy ears were concealed under a deep green beanie, the same colour as the scarf around his neck.

He arched a silvery eyebrow at Clary, his expression bemused, and she realized she was staring.

“Clary, seriously?” he said, his gently scolding tone at odds with his enchanting voice. “This guy isn't even half as good looking as me." He glanced pointedly at the patron in question, who was gaping at him, and shrugged. "No offense, dude,” Ash added as an afterthought.

He turned his attention to the barista. She was beautiful, dark skinned with long braided hair and pouty lips. “Hello, gorgeous. We’ll have a double espresso with oat milk and a dash of cinnamon for the lady and a plain black coffee for me.”

Clary stifled a gasp and tried to hide her discomfort. He knew exactly how she took her coffee, and she didn’t know how she felt about this.

The pretty barista nodded eagerly, her cheeks red and her big dark eyes dreamy as she stared at Ash. “Why don’t you… Go sit at your table and I’ll bring you your beverages when they are ready?” the girl offered enthusiastically. The long line of patrons that had formed behind Clary and Ash would probably disagree but she didn’t seem to care.

“That would be lovely,” Ash said in his euphonious voice. “And so are you.” He winked at her, and Clary wondered if she would need to catch her while she swooned. He paid before Clary even had a chance to reach for her purse.

“Come,” he said in a commanding tone, as he made his way to Clary and Simon's usual table. This was unnerving.

The jock seated there paused in the middle of his conversation with his girlfriend when he saw Ash stand casually next to him. Clary braced herself for a heated exchange, but she should have known better.

“You want to sit somewhere else,” Ash said evenly, one hand inside the pocket of his designer coat and the other stretched out in front of him as he studied his fingernails.

“I want to sit somewhere else,” the jock repeated in a monotonous voice, his gaze blank. He stood, as if in a trance, and his girlfriend and friends followed him, puzzled, to an empty table at the far end of the room.

Ash drew a chair for Clary and she sat. He did the same, opposite her. He pulled off his beanie, and shook his silvery hair, like a crown of liquid white gold. He wasn’t dressed for the part but he had never looked more like a prince.

“Ash… please don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Your mind tricks.”

He cocked his head and observed her, his face unreadable, for what seemed like an endless minute.

“You’ve been my aunt for what? Five minutes? And you’re already trying to boss me around?”

“I am not trying to boss you around, Ash. Simply asking you not to abuse your powers.”

A shadow flickered across his green eyes.

“I’ll let you in on a secret, Clary. I spend much more time and energy holding back than using my powers. If I did let go, trust me, you would know.”

Clary opened her mouth to reply but was cut short as the barista popped in front of them and placed the mugs on the table. She slid a paper napkin to Ash, her phone number scribbled on it. Clary tried not to roll her eyes, as Ash flashed his dazzling smile at the girl, who almost tripped on her own feet as she returned to the counter.

Clary lifted her cup to her lips and paused, as she caught sight of the cinnamon powder floating on the surface. She put it down.

“What about this?" She pointed at her coffee mug and waved around them. “ What is it, if not a show of power? What are you trying to tell me? That you know everything about me? That you’ve been spying on me?”

Ash pulled on a fake shocked expression, mouth open and green eyes wide in mock innocence. “Spying on you? What are you talking about?”

“Come on, Ash. The evidence is right here.” She lifted her cup abruptly, and hot liquid splashed out of it. “You know exactly how I like it. When I take it, where I take it.”

Ash’s mouth twitched. “Where did you pick up these lines? From the script of some lame X-rated movie?”

“Adult movies have storylines?” Clary asked, arching her eyebrows.

“Of course they do. Where do you think the Grimm Brothers took their inspiration from?”

He grabbed the paper napkin and started mopping the coffee she had spilled on the table. The blue ink faded and the barista’s phone number vanished.

“You lost that girl’s number,” Clary noted.

Ash shrugged. “I have a girlfriend now.”

Right. Drusilla Blackthorn. From the moment she had met her, Clary had known that the smart and quiet turquoise-eyed girl would someday turn heads.

Clary knew that Dru hadn’t really confirmed their relationship status yet, but it was neither the time nor place to broach the subject with Ash. She was, after all, on a mission to win over her nephew and had not been doing a very good job so far.

A young lanky boy with pink hair and piercings covering his skin walked by and dropped a glossy flyer of the upcoming Mortal Instruments concert on the table between them. Clary hid a smile. It reminded her...

“I have something for you.” She said as she fumbled inside her bag and took out the drawing she had made of Jocelyn, Luke and herself, in front of Luke’s upstate farm (before it was turned into the new Shadowhunter Academy) and laid it on the table.

Ash looked at it hesitantly, like a kid who really wanted to grab the candy but was afraid there was a mouse trap under it. He hunched his shoulders forward and clasped his hands under the table, as if to keep himself from temptation.

“I recognize your art. I like it. I also appreciate Julian Blackthorn’s but I may not be as objective where… one of the subjects of his drawings is concerned.”

“You’ve seen my art?”

He leaned back on his chair, crossing his long arms behind his head. Somehow, he managed to make it look graceful.

“Which Shadowhunter hasn’t? I noticed that you often drew Jace with angel wings.”

“Yes. That’s how he used to appear to me. In recurring dreams.”

“Was it?”

“Was it what?”

“Jace. In your dreams.”

“Who else would it be?”

“Someone who looks like him, but who actually has wings.”

“You mean Kit.”

Ash shrugged. “It would make more sense.” His gaze flickered back to the drawing, which still lay on the table, untouched. “You look a lot like your mom.”

“So do you”, Clary blurted before she could take it back.

Ash shot her an unfathomable look.

“How is she?” She asked.

“You mean, the Seelie Queen? You tell me. You must see her more often than I do.”

“Well, not really. I am not that involved in politics, even though Alec is Consul. Julian Blackthorn is the one who deals with her most of the time. She appears to have... a fondness for him.”

“Who doesn’t?”

Clary’s mouth quirked up.

“I am glad you are getting along with the Blackthorns. They are such an incredibly strong and talented family.”

“They are.” He turned his face away, but not before she could see the expression of longing plain on his delicate features.

She swallowed. She was painfully reminded that Ash never had a shot at a happy family. Born of a political union, and dragged here and there, though interdimensional portals, by people more interested in his powers than anything else he had to offer as a person. And judging by how Dru talked about Ash, he had a lot to offer.

“I imagine it must have been awful living in Thule… But what you did for Emma and Julian back there... if it hadn’t been for you…”

“I don’t want to talk about Thule,” he interrupted her. “Can I borrow this?” He asked, his long fingers brushing the Mortal Instruments concert flyer.

“Sure.”

She watched as he started folding the paper, realizing with a jolt of surprise that he was making an origami and wondering what shape would come out of it. It was odd seeing him doing such an innocuous thing, as if he was not a faerie prince with a heavy heritage and a giant target on his back, but an ordinary boy. She remembered what Emma had told her of her encounter with Ash in a nightclub in Thule. The way he had shown no interest, playing a video game in a corner of the room, while Sebastian was committing atrocities. Had he really been as indifferent as he looked?

“Ash, we don’t need to talk about Thule if you don’t want to, but if I can help you… If there is anything I can do-”

“Why?” He looked up sharply. “Are you able to create a rune that could undo the things I saw?” His tone was even, but his delicate fingers had started slightly shaking and he suddenly dropped the paper - his work unfinished - to fold his hands under the table to hide it. From that moment, she knew.

“No…” Clary said, drawing the word out. “But trust me, coming from someone whose memory has been tampered with... it’s not a solution.”

“I said undo. Not forget.” He snapped. “I am not such a coward that I would choose blissful ignorance over knowledge.”

He caught himself, blinking, then clenched his jaw and looked away. As if he was ashamed he had allowed himself to show any emotion at all. But Clary had managed to catch a glimpse of what lay underneath the mask and wanted nothing more than to see the rest of it.

“I don’t think you are a coward,” she said.

He looked over at her, a silver eyebrow raised. “I let it all happen, didn’t I? I didn’t lift a finger.”

“Because you couldn’t. Sebastian would have killed you. And you, Ash, are just like me. A survivor.”

He snorted and crossed his arms in front of him, leaning back on his chair. He had stretched out his long legs and Clary realized that he was tapping a foot nervously next to hers.

“Wrong. I could have. I chose not to. Because I am selfish. I don’t care about other people’s fate.”

His face split into a lazy, wicked grin. Clary could see Sebastian’s influence in his leer, but she wouldn't let it deceive her. Just as she wasn't fooled by his laid-back demeanor.

“I think it’s the opposite, actually. I think it’s because you care too much. It’s not death you are afraid of. The thing is, you have such a tender heart, you need to protect it from an affliction far greater than any physical pain you could endure. So you’d rather lie to yourself and pretend you feel nothing.”

From the long conversations she had with Tessa about her ancestors, Clary knew of a Fairchild boy who had been too compassionate for his own good. And he had been surrounded by loyal friends and loving parents, even though he had shut himself, putting on a facade while burying his grief in alcohol. Ash never had that kind of support. Throughout his life, he was left to figure things out on his own. If he was as empathetic as Clary thought he was, Ash probably had no other choice but to deal with his sensitivity alone. It was a miracle he had turned out the way he did.

“You have a lot of imagination,” he said after a moment. The ghost of a smile was still playing on his lips but something had passed across his eyes. “Then again, you are an artist. You seek beauty in the ugly. You find colors on a blank page. I admire your faith, but in this case, there is nothing to see.”

Clary jutted her chin stubbornly and they held each other’s gaze - his green eyes glittering in amusement and hers dead serious - in a staring contest.

“Still,” he said when he finally broke, first. “I shouldn’t have lashed out at you. I am sorry.”

Clary softened. “Don’t be. I am glad you are finally showing your true self. You don’t need to wear your mask around me, Ash.”

He chuckled. “Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth.”

“It’s funny that you would quote Oscar Wilde.”

“And why is that?”

She shrugged. “Just another thing you share in common with a Fairchild I heard stories about.”

“Clary,” he said in a gently reproving tone. Her name sounded like a caress in his melodious voice. “Are you being purposefully cryptic to arouse my curiosity?”

She moved closer, so she was sitting at the edge of her chair, and leaned forward, hands folded over the table.

“If you show me yours, I’ll show you mine,” she whispered. “Let me in. Shed all pretense.”

“I can’t promise you that,” he whispered back in confidence, leaning closer still so that their faces were inches from each other. “It’s like fabric that burns and melts into skin. If you peel it off, the skin goes with it.” He grimaced, reclining on his chair. “It won’t be a pretty sight. I don’t think even my level of hotness could sustain it.”

“Ash…” Clary said, sensing that she finally had an opening to say what she had been brooding over ever since she had learnt of Ash’s return from that forsaken land. “I wanted to tell you… I am sorry.”

Ash’s green eyes widened.

“Sorry for what?”

“I should have looked for you. I should not have given up on you.”

Ash’s jaw clenched and he looked away. “Don’t,” he said through gritted teeth. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“I do. Seb-...Ash, we...”

“What did you just call me?” He snarled. His eyes snapped back to her, suddenly cold as ice.

“Sorry, Ash. What I meant to say is… we are family."

“I already have a family.”

“I know that you care about Janus…”

“I don’t want to talk about him,” he cut her off.

“And we don’t need to. I just wanted you to know… I understand that he’s been like a father to you, and I don’t plan on moving against him, unless he strikes first or makes it impossible for me to overlook his actions.”

“Because of me?”

“Of course, because of you.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Ash… You are my nephew, my blood. You may not feel the same way about me, but that’s how I feel about you. I want you to know that, if things go wrong, for any reason, you can always turn to me. My home is your home.”

“What you are actually telling me is, Ash, if I kill the one person who has ever really cared about you - and it might definitely come to that - you can always grab my hand, still sticky and warm from his blood. Well, how nice of you. To quote Oscar Wilde again, true friends stab you in the front.”

“That’s not what I am-”

“Clary,” Ash interrupted as he stood. “Do not make me choose between you and him. Because…” Looking down at her, he swallowed hard, as if the words pained him. “Because you will lose.”

She knew exactly what he was telling her. Because they were the same in that way. Ruthless, even with their own blood, when it came to protecting their loved ones. If I had to choose between killing him and you, I would not hesitate. I would end you. Yet, despite his cold statement, despite his sharp and resolved tone, his eyes seemed to carry a deep regret.

“Ash, I understand what you're saying and I swear I am not trying to make you pick a side”, Clary said, suddenly desperate, as she mirrored him and stood. “Please don’t go. I am sorry I brought it up. We will stop talking about him. Starting now.”

“This was a bad idea. Never try to contact me again.” He drew his green beanie from the pocket of his coat and put it back on. He turned and strode toward the exit. She grabbed the family drawing that still lay on the table, stuffed it in her bag and followed him, half-running, as he was quickly losing here with his long legs.

“Ash! Please. Give me another chance. I am so sorry.”

He paused right outside the coffee shop, closed his eyes and sighed. “Don’t be. It didn’t change what I had planned to tell you anyway. I don’t want to know anything about you or your mother. I don’t want to have anything to do with either of you.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” she said, and he whipped his head around to look at her in surprise. “I know you were under house arrest. You probably had to break out of whichever place they were holding you in to come here. You wouldn’t have done that unless you wanted something. Something from me. Tell me, Ash. Tell me what it is.”

He turned his face away so she could not see his expression. A full minute passed and she had almost given up on receiving an answer, when he finally spoke.

“My fa… Sebastian. How different do you think he would have been if not for the demon blood?”

“Oh. Ash.” she whispered. She brought her knuckle against her sternum instinctively, as if to cover the gaping whole in her chest. “I saw him, you know. The brother I should have had. The father that should have raised you. If only for a few minutes.” She paused to bite back tears. “In those few minutes, he told us how to get rid of the Endarkened and said he was sorry. It’s not much to go for, but… that’s not all. I have recurring dreams of the green eyed boy that was robbed from us. And I know in my heart he would have been the best brother a sister could ever dream of.”

He was still looking away and she could see the sharp line, the stubborn set of his jaw. She wanted to hug him, to tell him she would not fail him again. That they could mourn her brother, his father, together. That he didn’t need to bear the anger at everything that was wasted alone.

He finally turned to look at her. A tear had escaped to run freely down his cheek. He had completely shed off his mask, and what Clary saw was like a stab in her gut. She shivered. Wordlessly, he reached for his deep green scarf and tied it gingerly around her neck. The way Sebastian had when they had walked down the streets of Paris. Ash looked nothing like her brother had then. His green eyes held an infinite sadness that spoke of a grief deeper, older than the short years of his life.

“It doesn’t change anything.” He said - she hadn’t imagined his beautiful voice could sound so hollow - and turned to leave.

“Ash, wait.” She grabbed him by the elbow and he froze. His eyes widened as his gaze zeroed on the fingers covering his coat, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. She realized she had never touched him before.

“Clary, what do you want from me?” He asked in a tired voice.

“I just want to get to know you.”

“Trust me, you don’t. I am not the brother who was stolen from you. I cannot replace him. If anything, I am just like Sebastian was before me... my father’s broken toy. There is no way to fix me.”

“I don’t believe it for a second,” she said, almost frantic. “And I don’t want to find my brother's replacement, I want to get to know you! Ash. The real Ash.”

“I already told you. That’s not happening. Don’t ever try to contact me again. I am serious.”

“So that’s it?” She tried not to sound too whiny but panic was eating away at her stomach and she thought she would throw up. “You went through all this trouble spying on me, learning how I take my coffee to simply disappear from my life from one moment to the next?”

He gazed at her for a moment, his expression unfathomable. It seemed like an eternity before he finally spoke.

“I was not spying on you, Clary. I was merely following your stalker.”

“What? You were… protecting me?”

“Take care of yourself, Clary.”

He said as he stepped away from her and vanished into the crowd.

****

Clary threw herself in Jace’s arms as soon as he opened the door to their bedroom at the New York Institute. He froze, then started stroking her hair in a soothing gesture.

“Clary, what happened? Is everything okay?”

“No,” she said, her voice muffled against his chest.

“Tell me, Clary. What is it?”

She pulled away and wiped tears with the back of her hand. Jace’s face was a mask of shock. Clary couldn’t blame him. She almost never cried.

“I messed up.”

“What did you mess up?”

She walked to the bed and sat on the mattress. She took a deep breath, bracing herself for his reaction. “Ash. I met up with him earlier today.”

Jace tensed and his hands clenched into fists. “WHAT- Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you would have insisted on coming.”

“Damn right, I would have. And I would have been right, too. Look at you, you look miserable.”

“It’s my fault,” she said in a small voice. “I pushed him too far.”

Jace sighed and came to sit next to her, putting a comforting arm around her shoulder. “I am sure you did nothing wrong, Clary.”

“I thought- When I showed him the drawing… the way he looked at it, Jace. He is not indifferent. He cares.”

“What drawing?”

“The one I made of the family,” she said absently, as she grabbed her bag and started fumbling inside.

She sucked in a sharp breath. The drawing wasn’t there. Peeking out in its stead, and folded out of the flyer of the Mortal Instruments concert, were origami faerie wings. The Fairchild family symbol.

[glytchfic]

We started as a spark. PART 2.

David Dastmalchian x Fem!Reader

Bonjour! There goes Part 2, it’s a bit longer than Part 1. Look, i was truly inspired, okay? Anyway, i’m letting you guys decide which Tom is it, it’s up to you - wink wink -. And I’ve decided to change the name of the story, it’s still from the same song but i thought it was more fitting. 

Special thanks to everyone who’s reading me, i really appreciate it. Comments, complaints, the usual!

PS: Since i’m pretty new to the whole Tumblr thing, can anyone explain to me how am i suppose to do a ‘read more’ option on my post so people who doesn’t want to read it don’t have to scroll for so long? lol, i feel stupidddddd.

Enjoy!

Rating: 18+

Warnings: slow burn, foul language, flirting, sexual tension, drinking, brief mention of marital problems. 

Inspired by the song False Alarm by Matoma and Becky Hills.

___________________________________________________________

‘How about this one?’

‘You are not gonna get laid in this one, trust me.’ my friend tells me.

‘What if, and it might sound totally crazy, I don’t wanna get laid?’ I say, amused.

‘At a wedding? Bullshit.’  

I laugh a bit and go back to my cabin to change again. I look at all the possibilities in front of me, pink puffy dress, green silk dress and a white dress. I scowl looking at the white dress. As if I would wear that to someone else’s wedding. I draw the curtains of the cabin, only in my underwear, and look at Alica.

‘I’m desperate. For the love of God, find me something.’ I whine.

‘Why do you care so much about this wedding anyway?’ she says as she browses through a bunch of dresses behind her.

‘David will be there.’

‘The guy who looks like a serial killer?’

‘He does not -’ I begin, walking towards her, ‘he’s a sweet guy.’  

‘And he’s married.’ she states.

‘Yes, he is.’ I mutter.

After a long silence, she gently slaps me on my arm, ‘Oh my god! Are you serious? I thought you didn’t sleep with married men!’

‘I don’t!’ I defend myself, ‘I just – I don’t know. I wanna be smoking hot at Sean’s wedding and the fact that David is there might or might not have a direct link to my desperate search for the perfect dress. We might never know.’ I say with a bit of sarcasm.

‘Sweetie,’ she puts her hands on my shoulders, ‘I’m sure he’s a fantastic guy, but don’t get too hyped about him. You’re gonna get yourself hurt.’ she says in a gentle tone.

‘I -’ I stammer, ‘Look, it’s just a dumb crush. I’ll be over it after a new one-night stand.’

‘Are you sure?’ she questions me.

‘Sure. I mean, yeah, I’d climb this guy like a fucking tree -’

‘You’re unbelievable.’ she cuts me off.

‘Buuuuuut -’ I motion to her to let me finish, ‘I can’t, and I won’t. I honestly think David and I can be good friends. Whether you believe me or not, I really do think that.’ I reassure her.

‘I do believe you, but please, just be careful. I’m telling you this because I care about you.’ she says while putting a strand of my hair behind my ear.  

‘I know and if you were in my shoes, I would be telling you the same thing.’ I smile at her.

‘I know.’ she smiles back.

I hesitate a few seconds, ‘So anyway, as I was saying: like a fucking tree -’ I joke and start laughing.

‘Oh my god!’ she throws a black dress at my face, ‘go try this one. Hopefully, it’ll help you get some.’

_

Car keys in hands, I lock my car and walk toward the ceremony. I put my keys in my purse and see I have a text message from Alica wishing me good luck for the evening and all. I text back a simple ‘Thanks, love you xx’ and I put in back in my purse. I stop in front of the door, and I observe my surroundings. I see a few faces I recognize, and they wave at me. I wave back and smile at them. This event won’t be that bad. I’ll probably run into lots of people I know – from the industry – that I haven’t seen in a long time. Good opportunity to catch up.

‘Wow! You look beautiful!’

I hear a familiar voice and turn around. I see Daniela – Melchior, aka Ratcatcher 2 – trotting towards me. She opens her arms; I do the same and we hug each other more tightly than I thought we would. I really do enjoy Daniela’s presence, but she lives in Portugal and only come to the USA from time to time for the pre-production of the film so I haven’t had the chance to get to know her as much as I would have liked.

‘I didn’t think you would be here!’ I say, surprised.

‘Me neither, but James convinced Warner Bros to pay for my plane ticket and told them it was work related.’ she says, excited.

I laugh, ‘Of course he did that.’

I’ve known James for years and I would’ve been surprised if he hadn’t arranged for Daniela to be here for his brother’s wedding. James is always like that; he wants to create a sense of family with his crew, and no one is left behind.  

‘I’m so nervous.’ Daniela says quietly.

‘How come?’

‘I don’t know anyone here except for the Suicide Squad gang.’ she muttered, looking down.

‘Hey, gotta start somewhere, right?’ I gently put my hand under her chin, and I slowly raise her head. ‘don’t worry about anything, we got you.’ I wink at her, and a beautiful smile appears on her face.

‘Thanks.’

Daniela is, by far, the youngest of the group. She’s barely 23 years old, she’s from Portugal, English is not her first language, and The Suicide Squad is her first big international role. I remember the first time I saw her, she looked so intimidated being surrounded by all of us, but she’s learning so fast and I can’t wait to see what she’ll give us once we’re on set.

‘Let’s go, it’ll probably starts soon.’ I wrap a protective arm around her, and we walk through the front door.

_

‘I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride!’ the priest exclaims.

Sean grabs Nathasha – now officially his wife – by her waist and they kiss each other passionately. Everyone stands up and applauds to congratulate the newly married couple. Daniela grabs my arm, all excited by Sean and Nathasha walking down the aisle. I look at them, a huge smile on my face, and something – someone – caught my attention in the background.

‘What are you looking at?’ Daniela questions me, ‘hey look, David is over there!’ she says pointing in his direction.

Oh, poor child, if only you knew. Everyone starts following the married couple down the aisle and Daniela gently grabs my hand so we can’t get separated. Walking through this crown of Sean and Nathasha’s friends, Daniela and I find the exit and get there just in time to see the newly married couple leaving the place to go to the reception. I smile as I look at the car disappearing from my sight, I turn around towards Daniela and I freeze, my smile slowly fading away.

‘What’s the matter?’ Daniela asks, worried.

She follows my gaze and sees what I was looking at. David walking towards us, hand in hand with his – I assume – his wife. He waves at us and Daniela waves back at him while I’m still not moving. This shouldn’t be a surprise really. It makes perfect sense that he’s at a wedding ceremony with his wife and – fucking hell – she's pretty.

‘Hi, I’m Evelyn!’ she says with enthusiasm.

And she seems so nice. And has a good vibe. And they look like a great couple. And – fuck – I feel horrible for all the thoughts I’ve had – and still have – about her husband in the last two months. Daniela, still holding my hand, looks between me and her a few times and squeezes my hand a bit as if she was comforting me. I can hear them make small talk about the wedding and all, but I’m not paying attention. I see David trying to catch my gaze, but every time I either look at Daniela or his wife. I feel like such a spoiled brat, I shouldn’t be affected that much by this. I don’t want to marry him goddamn it, I just wanna – but I won’t - have sex with him. It’s just an attraction. A deep, intense and consuming attraction, but still an attraction, nonetheless. Why am I like this?  

‘Are you okay?’ Daniela asks, still worried.

I don’t answer as I look David and his wife walking towards their car, probably on their way to the ceremony. Daniela put her other hand on my back and hugs me a little.

‘I know what it feels like.’ she simply whispers close to my ear.

‘What do you mean?’ I mutter, getting back to reality.

‘I have been there before. It will be fine, trust me.’ she hugs me a bit tighter.

I turn my head towards her, and she gives me a warm smile.

‘Is it really that obvious?’

She laughs, ‘Come on, we have to go.’

Fuck, she knows.

_

Drink in hand, I’m on the dance floor with Daniela and we’re giving everything we have. Screaming the lyrics to the Icona Pop song ‘All Night’, she takes my free hand, and we start spinning, laughing and stumbling around. The last note of the song echoed on the dance floor, and I look at Daniela, out of breath.

‘How long have we been here? Jesus.’ I say catching my breath.

‘Long enough for this guy at the bar to completely undress you with his eyes.’ she subtly points me the direction with her chin.

I turn around to see the handsome stranger and I chuckle a bit. It’s no stranger, I know this guy. I look at Daniela as I finish my drink, I put it on the table next to us and I wink at her before leaving.

‘Hey Tom.’ I say seductively.  

‘Good evening, gorgeous.’ He flirts back in his English accent.  

Tom and I aren’t at our first ride together. We have history together, nothing serious really, but we do appreciate each other a lot. And he’s a good fuck, there I said it. For what feels like hours – who knows how long – we catch up, flirt, have a few drinks, hands wandering here and there. I feel myself getting more and more tipsy as the minute goes by. As Tom was whispering sweet nothings in my ear, something else caught my attention a bit far away. David and his wife, talking. They both move their hands a lot. Oh. I’m an idiot. They’re arguing. Not the ‘imma-scream-and-make-a-scene’ type of argument, but you can clearly see something is going on. After a few minutes, they both seem to have calm down. David put his hand on Evelyn’s hips and tries to kiss her, but she turns her head away, kissing her cheek instead. She gives him a weak smile and leaves. David sighs, rubs his forehead and walks towards the bar.

‘Tom, could you give me a moment, please? I think my friend’s not feeling good.’ I say, worried.

‘Of course, darling.’  

I get up and finally realize that I’m a bit more drunk that I thought I was, but nothing too crazy. I’ve seen worse, way much worse. I stabilize myself and walk towards the other bar where David was sitting all by himself, leaning his forehead against the palm of his left hand as the other was mindlessly scrolling on his phone.  

‘What is a handsome place like this doing in a man like you?’ I say, thinking I’m incredibly funny.

He turns around to look at me, a weak smile on his lips.

‘That was dumb as fuck, I’m sorry. Can -’ I sit down next to him, ‘can I buy you a drink or something?’

‘That’s very nice of you, but I don’t drink.’ He simply says.

‘Oh.’

I look around, a bit awkward. Even though there’s loud music playing permanently, it feels like there’s a heavy silence between us. I decide to stay right next to him and I start scrolling on my phone too.

‘You don’t have to do this, you know.’ He mutters.

‘Oh, I insist! S’cuse me, sir -’ the barman turns towards me, ‘can I have two glasses of water pretty please?’ the barman nods.

‘You’re unstoppable, aren’t you?’ Another weak smile appears on his lips.

‘Always. So -’ the barman puts down the glasses in front of us, ‘you wanna talk about it?’ I risk myself.

‘Not really, actually.’ He sighs.

‘It’s perfectly fine! So, hmm, ah yes! I watched this horror movie the other day, I’m sure you would have love it! There’s this girl, y’know? She slept with a guy she went on a movie date with. After their sexy time this asshole fucking drugs her with – what's it called – that liquid they use on washcloths in movie to make people fall asleep and kidnap them?’

‘Chloroform.’ He chuckles.

‘This! Yes! So anyway, she falls asleep and when she wakes up, she’s tied up on a chair! And then there’s this weird looking naked woman walking towards the girl and turns out this woman is actually a ghost now chasing the girl and the guy slept with her because you can pass this ghost curse through sex. Can you fucking believe that?’

‘I cannot believe it.’ He says, clearly amused.

‘Does it make sense? Should I stop? Sorry, I’ve been drinking tonight.’ I say, a bit embarrassed.

‘No, no! Please, tell me more.’

And I keep babbling about the movie It Follows and as I go, I realize that most of the things I say don’t make any sense at all, but as long as David keeps smiling and laughing, I’ll just keep going. At one point of the story, he bursts out laughing which makes me smile so much that my jaw is almost hurting.  

‘There it is. That smile.’ I simply say.

Hu blushes, ‘Thanks.’

We look at each other for a few seconds and I motion him to drink water, which he does. I do the same and I almost choke on my water when I hear ‘Dance With Me Tonight’ by Olly Murs starts playing. I put down my glass and take David by the arm with enthusiasm.  

‘That’s my song, come on David!’ I pull on his arm.

He laughs and I can feel him letting himself go. He follows me on the dance floor, and I start dancing, encouraging him. He looks around, with a small smile on his lips and he looks back at me, rubbing his neck with his hand. I reach out to him, and he grabs my hands. Laughing and moving around, we can’t stop looking at each other as we’re having the time of our life. I suddenly stop when I feel a hand – not David’s - on my shoulder.

‘I was looking everywhere for you, darling.’ he says slipping his hand down my back, ‘I’m Tom.’ he stares at my partner.

‘David.’ he simply answers.

‘I’m going back to my place, darling. Care to join me?’ he gets closer to me.

Still holding David’s hand, I look between him and Tom, unsure of myself. I glance at David who gives me a reassuring smile. I know he wouldn’t be mad at me. I mean, I do wanna get laid. But.

‘Sorry, Tom. I’m staying.’ I say confidently as I feel David’s hands gently squeezing mine.

‘Oh, I see.’ he bends towards me and kiss me on the temple, ‘call me, okay?’

I nod and watch him leave the place. I exhale deeply and turn back towards David who has a cheeky smile on his face. He rubs my hand a little bit with his thumbs, and he laughs.

‘Did I just cock-blocked you?’

‘I think you did.’ I laugh back.

He hesitates, ‘It’s not too late if you want to join him.’ he says looking in the direction Tom left.

‘No! I -’ I cut him off, ‘I’d rather stay here.’ I say under my breath.

He smiles, ‘Where were we?’ he starts dancing again.

_

Quoting our favorite movies, David and I are walking down my street. I would be lying if I said I was still drunk, I’m not. I haven’t had a drink since I went to see David at the bar, but I don’t feel like I need the effect of alcohol to enjoy myself right at this moment.  

‘You didn’t have to walk me home, y’know?’ I shiver.

‘I know, but I wanted to.’ hey says as he wraps his jacket around my shoulders.

I blush and look down at my feet. We walk down the rest of the street in a comfortable silence and I’m here, wondering what would happen next if he wasn’t married. I push those thoughts away as I see my apartment complex in front of me.

‘Home sweet home.’ I sigh, not wanting this night to ever end.

‘Home sweet home, indeed.’ he replies, ‘look,’ he hesitates a few seconds, ‘thank you for tonight. I truly mean it.’ he says with a warm smile.

I feel my heart beating faster, ‘Anything for you, David.’

He looks down, bites his lips and looks back at me, ‘I forgot to tell you,’ he gets closer, ‘you looked lovely tonight.’ he gently takes back his jacket from my shoulders.

I catch my breath, ‘Thanks.’

‘Sweet dreams.’ he whispers.

‘Good night.’ I whisper back and he smiles.

He turns around and starts walking again. I look at him for a few seconds before I enter my apartment complex with a sigh of – I don’t know – frustration or relief, I wouldn’t be able to say which one.

‘Are you okay, miss?’ Alexander, the night shift lobbyist, asks me.  

‘Yes, I’m fine.’  

No, Alexander, I’m not fine. My core is throbbing, my heart is racing, and I can’t remember the last time I’ve been this fucking horny.  

[4aloysius-porteu]

i am your ally || tsukishima kei.

pairing; tsukishima kei x f! reader

genre: oneshot, drama, flangst, a little comedy

word count: 5.6k

details: 3rd year Tsukishima, artist reader

warnings: reader going missing, verbal abuse, crushing of dreams, lots of sadness, heavy parental argument, everything that happens here hits home

synopsis: tsukishima didnt know what is the right thing to say after he heard of (y/n)’s situation, but the words that stumbled out from his mouth were a surprise, yet it blossomed to a meaningful talk that happens once in a blue moon.

(a/n): wrote in the middle of my depressing days to find a little comfort from this character that I love with all my heart. inspired by true situations irl; if you, my friend, is feeling down today, i hope reading this work of mine can help. i might make this into a full story if this got enough attention tho.

(Y/N) was nowhere to be found. 

It wasn't Tsukishima's habit to eavesdrop on other people's conversation, but he couldn't help but listen when he heard her name from her classmates. She was a consistent top student that will never neglect her studies, so it was unusual to know that she was absent today. He thought that maybe she got sick or she decided to go crazy and skip school. If it was the latter, he hoped that she knows what she's doing, because midterms are coming in 3 days, and he's not going to listen to her whines and begs to help her study for the tests.

And now he just happened to overhear that she was missing. 

He saw her parents walk out of the campus after talking to the vice-principal and to the teachers. Gossip filled the corridors and rooms. Tsukishima went back to his room, clearly annoyed with the unnecessary noise.

He listened to the lectures of each subject and continued to write down important points, but the thought of (Y/N) lingered in his head. What could've happened that led to her disappearance? Was she kidnapped? No, he just walked her home last night and she'll never leave her place past midnight. Kidnappers won't dare to make a move in daylight because of the town's high authority visibility. There's no way she'll be lost in an area she's very familiar with. 

She ran away from home. That is the only logical possibility he could come up with, but he couldn't think of an idea as to why. (Y/N), who loves to be cooped up in her room with music blaring in her earphones while drawing, left her home without a trace. Tsukishima was a little worried, but he won't let his face show whatever the hell he's feeling. 

His plays and blocks aren't exactly bad, but Yamaguchi could sense that Tsukishima was thinking of something other than the volleyball practice. He approached his friend who was resting on the floor, his long arms covering his curled up legs. 

"Tsukki, what's with that expression? Did you get a failing score in a quiz?" Yamaguchi started, in an attempt to lighten up the atmosphere. 

The blonde's eyes darted to him, "Like hell, I'm going to let that happen. What do you want?"

He shrugged, "Nothing, I just noticed that you were a little quieter and more passive today. Normally, you would've chewed the first years out with their simple blocking errors, but you didn't say a thing. You're scarier in their eyes when you're silent."

"I was tired. I'll only waste my voice pointing out something I did a million times." A sigh escaped his lips 

"Right..." Yamaguchi paused, "So, I assume you have heard?"

"Heard of what?"

"That (Y/N) is missing."

"Oh," A frown fell on his features. It wasn't his usual frown. People who really know him would notice that his eyes are full of worry. 

He sat beside Tsukishima before he spoke again. "I know you have ideas on places (Y/N) could've gone to."

"I do not know what you're talking about."

The latter chuckled, "Oh, humor me, Tsukki. If you're that worried, I can excuse you for today's practice. No problem."

"Does that mean that you aren't concerned?"

"I am concerned. I want to look for her as well, but I have to whip the other players into shape. I'm sorry if I couldn't accompany you right away."

Tsukishima stood up and sighed again, "You will excuse me, you said?"

"Yeah."

There were silence and the background noise of balls and shoes colliding on the floor. He wiped the sweat off his face before replying, "I'll be leaving the gym in a few minutes."

He changed his clothes and packed his things up, causing the team to exchange glances.

"Tsukki!" Yamaguchi called, throwing his friend's large jacket to him, which the other caught. "Take care! I hope you find (Y/N) and get her home safe."

"I wish. Then, I'll leave it to you, Captain."

The green-haired middle blocker's eyes teared up and sparkled as he beamed a smile back, "I got it!"

Tsukishima started to look for (Y/N) at the places she liked to go to; the art store, the Central Park, the kid's playground, the museum, and the prefectural library. But there was no sign of her anywhere. He looked at the nearby places to no avail. He walked on while dialing her number, but her phone is out of coverage area. He spent 3 more hours finding the girl and soon received a message from Yamaguchi, telling him that (Y/N) hasn't been found yet and that he joined the authorities to help them find her. 

He walked back to the direction of his home, panting softly. He had failed to find (Y/N), yet his brain won't stop thinking about her possible whereabouts. The cool breeze of winter hit Tsukishima's face and shivered at the contact. He had hoped again that she is inside of an establishment, safe from such cold weather.

Tsukishima's home has its lights out. Her mother was invited into her colleagues' reunion as said in her text, and both his father and brother are busy at work. He reached for his key in his pocket and was opening the door, not until he heard a loud sob from somewhere. Tsukishima looked around the place as the sobbing continued. He searched for the source and ended up in their backyard. He caught the sight of a small figure behind the bushes and went closer to confirm.

It was a cat. It had scurried away once he got close to it. Oh, how stupid he is to get his hopes up only to find a scared animal. But he was certain he heard a sob somewhere near. And cats aren't capable of making a sound like that. Or maybe he was only hearing things?

He dragged his feet to the main door to unlock it, but this time, there was a loud noise of scrubbing on the roof. What is it this time? He moved back and looked upon where it came from. 

To his surprise, it wasn't another cat but a person. Their legs were curled up, arms covered around them, with their chin on their knees. Tsukishima turned on his phone's flashlight and there she was. 

It was (Y/N). Her shoulders shook, either from the cold or trying her best not to cry out loud. 

"H-Help me."

He stared at the girl, confused and fighting back laughter because of how scared (Y/N) looked. "How the heck did you get in there?"

"I climbed that tree and jumped off to break in and hide in your room. Turned out that the windows are locked. I don't know how to jump back and I-I was too high from the ground. You know I'm scared of heights! Why did you lock the window?! Stupid!"

"Of course, I would lock the window for the security. And wow, aren't you the stupid one for knowing how to climb and jump up to my window and not knowing how to get down? Why did you climb if you are scared of heights? Such an idiot."

"Fine, fine. I am an idiot. Now, can you help me get off this roof?"

He crossed his arms and smirked, "No."

"Ugh! Please, Kei. I've been trapped here for hours. I am begging you to help me get down. Please?"

He sighed in defeat and raised his arms. "Here. Jump."

For seconds, (Y/N) didn't respond as she was having second thoughts about jumping.

"What? Do you expect me to get a ladder? I'm sorry, but it's in the basement, broken." He said in a mocking tone. "Don't you want to come down?"

"Can you catch me properly? Are your arms stable? Won't you fall on your ass?" (Y/N) interrogated.

Tsukishima rolled his eyes, "Alright, stay there and freeze to death."

"No, wait! I was just asking! Come back! Don't leave meeee!"

The blonde looked up to her and raised his arms again, "Don't think. Trust me, I will catch you properly and you won't crash to the ground. You weigh like nothing anyway."

"Are you talking about yourself?" She retorted, pertaining to his weight.

"Can you please just jump?"

(Y/N) inhaled and went to the edge of the roof. It was a scary view for her, just looking down makes her dizzy, and want to throw up.  She thought he would have the largest frown on his face because of how irritatingly slow she was, but there was Tsukishima waiting for her with the calmest expression. She smiled a little.

"Here I go..."

She took off, closing her eyes, and swallowing her fears. The gravity pulled her feet down shortly after, and Tsukishima readied himself for the impact as he reached her waist. He held on to her lower torso while (Y/N) placed her arms around his shoulders tightly and legs on his waist. The athlete's balance slightly went off, so he took a step back to support both their weights. It was now steady. 

"I'm surprised you didn't lose your balance. Where's the weak boned beanpole 3 years ago?"

"I did for a second."

"Doesn't matter. You caught me. Thank you."

They had stayed in that way for a moment until Tsukishima spoke, "Do you plan to get off?"

"No. I'm tired."

"I am too." Yet she refused to let go.

He exhaled, carrying (Y/N) to the main entrance and finally unlocking the door. Her hoodie was cold and some parts are wet, but it didn't rain on that day. He took her in and placed her on the couch. Tsukishima went to his room, changed clothes, and brought a spare sweatshirt, handkerchief, and a towel. He went down but didn't find (Y/N) where he left her, so he walked to the kitchen counter and found the girl on the corner, shivering like a pup.

He tossed the clothing at her without further words. There was a note from her mom beside the curry in the table, saying she had eaten and she left rolls in the refrigerator. He was about to turn on the stove to reheat the food his mother left, but his eyes landed on (Y/N) who sat quietly, hugging the sweatshirt instead of wearing it. Her hair was disheveled, the sleeves and neck part of her hoodie was damp, her nose was red and her puffy, bloodshot eyes implied that she has been crying for who knows how long. He set the pan down to get her a glass of water. 

"Everyone was looking for you." Said Tsukishima.

"No one was really looking for me." (Y/N) replied, clearing her nose. 

"I didn't spend the last 3 hours tiring myself to scan the whole town for no reason." He sat beside her, handing the glass. "Care to spill the tea?"

(Y/N) drank first before speaking weakly, "I hate them. So much."

The male remained quiet, waiting for her to continue her dilemma.

"Remember when I told you and the class that I will be the most successful doctor in Japan after I finished my studies? It was a lie. It wasn't my dream to stay in a hospital and treat ill people, I only wanted to draw and paint. I didn't care if it never made them or anyone happy, I am happy doing it. And they are taking it away from me."

He knew from the start that her dream job as a doctor wasn't true. For years she stayed close to him as a friend or more, she won't blabber anything of the medical topic. She was terrified of syringes. He saw her reading an article about surgeries and like, but her focus was easily taken away.

She will get a pencil then start scribbling and drawing. Something that Tsukishima always sees her doing whenever she has a pen and paper, but she insists that it was a mere hobby. Her notebooks are well designed and organized, but the back is always full of artistic doodles instead of algebra solutions. She only has very few art materials yet she can make a portrait with only her fingers to shade. She makes digital art without a stylus. She would drag him to the museum after class to view some western and eastern paintings or any work of art while he admires the dinosaur fossils. For times she's watching an art tutorial and talk about art, draw and paint, she has those stupid sparkles in her eyes and a huge smile on her face. 

"You know Tsukishima, after I finish studying and became a doctor, I'll become an artist and if the time let's it, I'll open my own art gallery. That's my ultimate dream." She looked alive and delighted.

Very much the opposite of what she looks like right now. 

Even though she was a slave of art, as Tsukishima was a slave of his own interests, (Y/N) prioritized her studies so much. He understood why when he went to her house and met her parents before their study sessions. He had noticed everything but chose to stay quiet. 

"I-I was drawing last night. Dad entered my room but I didn't notice so he ripped the music away from my ears and yelled. He said that I would always lock myself in my room and draw every night. It was never-ending and irritates the shit out of him. He asked why would I do something so useless that isn't even connected to any academic subject. He was looking down on my art like he was looking at a piece of crap. He told me to stop and threatened me if I didn't. Why would I get punished for drawing? I couldn't get myself to stay silent so I retorted. If he doesn't want to see me drawing, then he shouldn't enter my room at all. He should stop meddling with my hobbies. His anger only went up."

(Y/N) stopped for a while to wipe her tears and snot with her sleeves but Tsukishima placed a handkerchief on her hands. She muttered her thanks and blew her nose and soon followed with a sneeze.

"Soon, it became a full-blown argument. He said that he was checking out if I was doing my projects, but oh he was so disappointed only to find his daughter drawing for nothing. What the heck? I gave them the best grades I could get, and part of it was because of you, Tsukishima, but they still aren't satisfied? I balanced drawing and academics, but they made it seem that all I was doing was my hobby, completely ignoring my efforts at school. I finished the school activities and I reviewed for midterms and all I want is to be left alone and draw. What, they want me to go crazy by studying every hour with things I won't even apply in real life?"

Her fake laughter echoed in the kitchen for seconds before her depressed tone took over again.

"Mom heard all the shouting and joined the argument. Of course, she sided with dad without listening to my feelings and there they ridiculed their youngest child's interests and talent. They told me that everything I do is bullshit and wrong, that I was useless, that I was the huge opposite of their expectations, and... and how come God gave them a joke. She said they raised me so that I could help them, not to do such useless things. It hurts to shout back but I did to explain why I'm so passionate about art in hopes that they will listen and understand but, I was so wrong. I was suddenly slapped..." She placed her hand to her left cheek, her lips quivered a little. 

"I-It stung so much. Mom complained about how the Internet generation is so rebellious and won't listen to the elders. They didn't raise and teach me to talk back at them, but here is their child being a bitch. They started comparing me to my elder siblings or relatives who focused on their studies and who are at the door of success. I know they only want me to achieve the best, but my success isn't up to them! It's on me!! And I've invested a lot for that! They shouted at me as mom pulled my hair. It was so loud I thought I was going deaf. Dad blamed the gadget's influence and my drawings. I have only drawn decent fanarts of fictional characters, people, and sceneries, but they believed that because of these, I turned into a mannerless bastard. So mom decided to get my phone and lessen my allowance so that I wouldn't buy any art materials that are a waste of fortune--"

She bit her lower lip that is trembling uncontrollably and her eyesight blurred as her fat tears got in the way.

"and... D-Dad... he... he... he tore m-my sketch pad apart..."

Tsukishima's eyes widened. (Y/N) brought that thing with her almost everywhere she went and it was filled with good drawings and art plans. She has a lot of them though, but Tsukishima could only imagine how she felt when her efforts were trampled over by someone important to her. 

(Y/N) broke down, bawled her eyes out, and shrieked hysterically. He looked at her with a heavy heart. He had seen her crying sometimes, be it because of a sad movie or empathy, but never like this. A depressed, emotional wreck. Her eyes were sore enough after a lot of hours, but she won't stop crying. It was heartbreaking to see and hear his significant other in this state, yet Tsukishima didn't know what is the right thing to say. 

But maybe there was no need to say anything at all.

Kei wrapped his arms around her weeping figure and pulled her towards him. Cry it out, pipsqueak. (Y/N) didn't expect this action, nonetheless cried in his shoulder He didn't care anymore if this meant he gets his clothes drenched in her snot and tears as long as she felt a little less lonely. He rubbed her back and hair in an attempt to comfort his lover. (Y/N)'s airways hurt, but she screamed the pain out, in hopes that the pain in her heart would vanish. Her weeping went on for long minutes until she choked in her own sobs that Tsukishima had to get her another glass of water.

"Tell me, Kei." She began, wiping her eyes, "Is there... something wrong with me? Is my dream really that insignificant?"

"There's nothing wrong with you. You followed your ideals. Anyone including me would've done the same." He answered beside her.

"I-It's realistic, right?"

"It is."

"Then... why did it turn out like this?" Her voice was cracking.

Tsukishima looked down, "The society is just very cruel."

"Yeah. It sure is. Such a cruel society to live with." 

(Y/N) let out a dejected sigh and leaned on Tsukki's shoulder. "I couldn't look at them without such overwhelming fear and hate anymore. I wonder if... they knew that I was doing this for them. I'd like to make them smile with something I've made myself. Once, I made each of them a portrait. A realistic one made from a pencil. I couldn't afford a material set that can be used to paint realistically, but I tried my best to impress them with a charcoal one. Oh, if only you saw their faces when I gave them the portraits. They returned a half-hearted smile. It wasn't the same kind of joy I see whenever I give them perfect scores on tests. I didn't spend 3 sleepless nights just to see their half happy, half unpleased reaction. I wish they could feel more proud of their daughter who worked hard for them... I wonder if they threw it away as he did on my sketch pad..." 

They let silence engulf the atmosphere for a while. (Y/N) had calmed down a little, despite shedding smaller tears from the side of her eyes. Tsukishima held the sweatshirt he gave her earlier to make her wear it on the top of her hoodie to lessen her shivering. He stared at her, while the other gazed down on the floor with dead eyes.

Tsukishima asked, "So, what are you going to do now?"

"What am I going to do now huh..." (Y/N) repeated. "I'll probably... put everything to an end."

"You know I won't let you."

"I'm not talking about my life, silly. I might stop drawing and all. I've lost it."

"Isn't your life and drawing one and the same? And I'm pretty sure you have that immense talent to continue."

"No... Besides, talent isn't a talent if it doesn't make anyone happy."

The blonde mentally scoffed. She just said that it makes her happy in the beginning.

"Oh? Fine, stop doing that one thing you put everything into. What would that girl you received a commission from would feel if she were to hear you though?"

(Y/N) was stunned. She had completely forgotten about the whole commission thing she opened in her social media accounts. Tsukishima accompanied (Y/N) on giving the commissioned charcoal portrait to a girl last 3 weeks ago. It was (Y/N)'s first commission for years she's making art. Someone liked her work for the first time and paid for it, and her client looks very contented and glad. The words she said filled her thoughts with inspiration.

"Wow, this is awesome! I'm so happy!! Thank you for making this, it was exactly what I've pictured on my mind! You're amazing! All the excitement I've bottled up for this day is so worth it," The girl, probably a little older than them paused and admired the painting she received from (Y/N).

"Would you ignore those words she said?"

 'Please don't stop drawing, I'll be looking forward to your future works!' 

A pang of guilt hit her chest. She wants to pursue art, but there are these shackles and chains on her limbs and around her neck that made it hard for her to move forward. She couldn't breathe. What happened yesterday night was too much. Her parents went overboard. 

"B-But—"

A monotone voice interrupted her, "Don't. Never stop striving for something you have been building for years. You might be defeated now, but surely, you will win some time. There's no way you'll stay in the lowest level of the ladder after I saw how hard you worked. You will go to nationals again, and I will continue to support you. I'll cheer for you and stay by your side! So please, do not stop! Let me see those beautiful blocks that you execute in the game once more! And I will watch you reach the top! Doesn't matter how many times, I'll never get weary of watching you do amazing things!"

She was silenced by that statement. She had definitely heard those before, but couldn't quite remember where. 

"Does the sentiment seem familiar to you? Those are the same words that came from your mouth when I was planning to quit volleyball after our huge loss to Date Tech last year. I am returning them back to you."

"Huh?" She replied with a meek voice.

"That time, you really did a good job meddling with my decisions. It annoyed me first, but what you had stated held a weight that I couldn't disregard. You gave me the small push I didn't know I needed. In the end, I'd like to pay you back." Tsukishima stated with a far away look in his eyes.

(Y/N) listened with watery eyes. This Tsukishima's side isn't definitely the one she gets to see every day so she couldn't feel anything but the warm, fuzzy feeling that is healing her heart. 

"It's probably selfish for me to say this but, don't you dare give up. I didn't stop. No matter how long and hard the game is, no matter how tired and discouraged I get, and no matter how many pessimistic thoughts clouded my head, I didn't stop chasing after a falling ball and thinking of another tactic to counter the enemy. I kept your words with me in court. It was you who told me not to in the first place, and I'm not going to forgive you if you ever dropped everything. I won't let the stupid, starry-eyed (Y/N) die today."

The girl beside her started sobbing. "But you told me once that my drawing are ugly."

"Oh. That. I... kind of remember that. I'm not sorry about what I said because I did it to provoke and rile you up. It was a lie though. As someone who always sees you drawing, I can't call your work ugly at all. Your art is... astounding. You make it look like it's so easy to do. I think you forgot next sentence after I told you that."

"What was the sentence after?"

Tsukishima sighed, "I told you to keep doing it, right?"

The sound of (Y/N) crying engulfed the kitchen, "Oh gosh, why did I forget that... I'm sorry, I'm so idiotic..."

The blonde brought her back to his arms, "Will you stop crying, you've been too hard on yourself today,"

(Y/N) hid her face on his chest, muffling her speech, "c-couldn't help it... my mind is such a mess... I do not know..." She paused, coughing. "It's no use if m-my parents don't acknowledge me..."

"Hundreds, or perhaps thousands of people who follow you on social media account recognize you. People in school recognizes you. I recognize you. I am your ally. Isn't that enough reason for you to get back on your feet? I will support you just like how you supported me. You have a lot of people who admire you, but I only have a few people and you. Yet your words are enough. I'm certain that soon, you will reach your parents' standards and get them to acknowledge you. It's not impossible."

(Y/N) fixed her tear-stained face before looking up to him, "You know what? Who are you? Is a good spirit possessing your body? The Kei I know will either stay quiet or laugh at me for being pathetic."

"I was trying to be nice for once and this is what I get?" He frowned.

(Y/N) chuckled and hugged Tsukishima, "I'm sorry. Everything you said meant the world to me. Thank you very much."

She relaxed against his lean body, "I have a question though..."

"What?"

"You literally had no business in my art, it was my own problem. Why are you doing this?"

"Why don't you ask yourself after you argued with me that night? Why did you have to butt in with my choices?"

"Because you like volleyball! You might look like that someone stole your dinosaur collection when you're at practice, but you're good at it and have a future in it! It is a part of you, and you're deciding to throw it away? Your potential is too big to be wasted and I refuse to let that happen." Her voice is a little louder now, but hoarse.

"There's your answer, little gremlin."

"How is that— Oh."

"But I'd like to add something."

"What is it?"

"You look better doing what you really like. It makes you look less like a hag."

It was silent after that. (Y/N) punched his arm. Tsukishima didn't even wince but asked, "What was that for?"

"The last statement was unnecessary, and the first one is sweet yet cringey." She criticized. 

"C'mon, I'm just a teenager. Aren't you the cringey one most of the times?"

She used the handkerchief to sniffle her runny nose away, "Why do you have a knack of returning everything I said to me?"

"I won't do it if it's not appropriate." Tsukishima placed his hands on her back and to her hair, "So, what are you going to do now, (Y/N)?"

"I'll think things through. My brain is still slightly messy, but I'll be fine, thanks to you. But Kei..."

He hummed as a response. "I don't want to go home. I want to run away."

"Not possible. You can't survive on your own. You're almost 18 and until now, you don't understand how a washing machine works with all your perfect scores in exams."

"This is just a thought. I didn't say I'll be alone. I'm taking you with me."

"I refuse."

"Why?"

"Couldn't you wait for more months until we graduate?"

(Y/N)'s eyebrows raised, "So basically, you're agreeing, but not this time?"

"No, but you'll be free of your parents' suffocating control. Who knows how huge is your potential by that time."

"How considerate of you." The girl smiled.

"Only this time. And no, we won't live in the same place in college. Not yet. Not until we finish our studies, have secured jobs, and get important things done." 

"Will you be playing volleyball at college?"

He lazily replied, "Probably."

"Don't give me such an ambiguous answer!"

"Probably yes." 

"Hmm. Fine by me. I'll continue to draw, then." (Y/N) rested her head near Tsukishima's neck. 

He smiled a little at her answer, "Another thing though. I don't think... you should leave things with your parents like that. There'll be a time where you have to face it."

"Yes, that sucks... I don't want to think about it but I'll have to go back eventually... When that confrontation happens, I'll try to calmly talk it out with them. I will never be certain if it will end well. But my hate and fear of them won't change."

"You can always run back here if it didn't end well."

"Kei, don't want to see their faces just yet. Can I stay here for a while?"

"You even bother to ask. You are welcome anytime in this household. Just enter the house in the front door, not in my window."

"Right... thank you."

"Oh, now it's my turn to ask. How did you get in there?"

(Y/N) sighed, "It was on 4:30pm. I was on the loose and I looked for a store where anyone can't recognize me so I can eat for lunch. But there's this creep who kept on following me—"

"Did he hurt you?" He abruptly questioned.

"No. I ran as fast as I could before he could even get close to me, but in the next block, there were the town authorities with my mom, and I knew they were looking for me, so I blended into the people with my hoodie on and made my way. I climbed the tree in panic that they'll find me and hid there. It took me hours to notice that your house is just next to it, so I decided to climb to your window. However, the window was locked, and I was stuck."

Tsukishima sighed in relief. "It was a miracle that a klutz like you didn't fell off the tree and surprisingly, no one found you."

"I was high in adrenaline when I climbed the tree. My blending and hiding skills are in ninja-tier now, I beat you."

"Whatever. What did you have for breakfast?"

"...a melon bread."

"Just that?"

"Just that." 

Tsukishima kissed her forehead before lifting her up with him. "Go change. Borrow any of my clothes. I'll reheat the food."

(Y/N) kissed his cheek, slowly got off him and went upstairs. Tsukishima opened his phone to text Yamaguchi about her situation and proceeded to reheat the spicy curry. 

"Wait, Kei! Is it okay for me to eat?" She shouted from upstairs.

"What kind of question is that? Of course you can." He shouted back.

"Your mom left that for you, for your dad and for your brother. I'd feel bad."

"My brother and dad will come home late and I'm sure they've eaten already. So is mom."

"Are you sure? I can replace the food." She said while going down the stairs.

"Oh, you can cook? I'm afraid you'll burn the whole kitchen." He mocked.

"At least not the whole house." (Y/N) laughed, "Just kidding, I have a tiny knowledge in cooking."

"You don't have to, I told you they already ate. I'll bring out the sushi mom made if you still want to eat."

"Alright. Thank you for the food."

Few hours later, Tsukishima's mom came home and took off her shoes. "I'm home."

As she was about to enter the living room, Akiteru greeted her and placed his finger in front of his lips, indicating her to keep quiet. She wondered what was going on and saw her youngest son and his girlfriend leaning on his shoulder, asleep on the couch in front of the TV. He signaled her to read the note Kei left on the table. 

To mom, dad, and brother,

Earlier in the morning, (Y/N) went missing and her parents and town authorities were looking for her. I found her on the way home, but it turns out that she ran away from her home because of an intense argument between her parents, and doesn't want to be found yet. Please let her stay here for a while. I'll do most of the household chores or any favor you ask me in return. 

Mom, I shared the curry and sushi rolls with her. I left for some for dad and brother. (Y/N) said it was very delicious. 

Love, 

Kei.

She smiled after reading the note and looked at the sleeping kids. She took notice of (Y/N)'s eyes and quickly understood the situation. Before she left to rest in her room, she looked for a spare blanket and laid it atop them to keep them warm. 

(Y/N) snuggled further to Tsukishima's arms, satisfied on how this night will end well, unlike yesterday's.

©4aloysius.porteu.2021. please do not repost, copy, or edit. plagiarism is punishable by law.

[junko-and-riri-domain]

❦ boys & girls try to pretend | p.sh

❦ genre: park sunghoon x reader, fluff, semi-angsty?

❦ warnings: none (if there are any warnings I missed in relation to this post please let me know!)

“Boys and girls try to pretend

They’re not catching feelings

When they’re catching feelings”

❦ note: this was inspired by “boys & girls” by James TW, some lyrics were changed to fit the narrative of the story

As 7-year-old you looked at 7-year-old Park Sunghoon skating in the ice rink, there was a sort of air about him that had you curious about the boy. As most 7-years-old, the two of you were just gaining a recent awareness of what it meant to live life. Park Sunghoon knew the minute he stepped onto the ice that ice skating was his everything. He loved the thrill of it, the cold air, but most of all the freedom it provided. Over some hot chocolate, once he finally left the rink, the two of you got to talking which led to your parents exchanging numbers. Sunghoon wasn’t a talkative boy most of the time but his parents noted how he made an effort to talk to you.

You later found out that the two of you attended the same primary school but were in different classes. You found out one lunch at recess when you noticed some guys in the 3rd grade crowding over someone. Curiosity got the better of you and you wanted to see what was happening only to find out that the boy you drank hot chocolate with a few days prior was getting bullied. You stood up for Sunghoon, telling the bullies to “fudge off!” despite the slight fear you felt, the bullies left the two of you alone. The two of you spent the remaining few minutes of lunch together, bonding over a penguin plushie your aunt bought you as a gift.

It didn’t take long before the two of you became friends, a concept you’ve heard of but neither of you truly experienced until each other. The next year of school, the two of you were in the same class. Not only were you in the same class, but you hung out with each other outside of school, mostly at the ice skating rink where the two of you truly noticed each other. Some days you joined him in skating but for the most part, you preferred to watch, a habit that would continue in later years to come.

When you turned double digits, things started changing. You’d be entering middle school soon with more classes and newer people. One Saturday, Sunghoon was at your house and the two of you were having a Disney movie marathon. The scene of the Sleeping Beauty kissing scene appeared on the screen,

“Mama said that people only kiss when they love each other,” you found yourself saying as you glanced over to Sunghoon. You knew love in the form of warm breakfast and being tucked into a blanket but not yet in form of the scene where Flynn Ryder and Rapunzel were surrounded by lanterns on a canoe. Sunghoon looked at you,

“Do you love me?” he asked. He wanted to know your answer for some odd reason despite not knowing the weight of the question. With you, the feeling you gave him was something similar to the one he felt while on the ice but somehow different? You nodded,

“Mama said to love everyone.” Neither of you knew exactly what happened at that moment when Sunghoon made his way to you, your lips brushing for a second, no more, no less. Your first kiss was etched into the history of the world, one of billions of events that occurred that day in that very moment. The kiss wasn’t mentioned nor talked about after that day but the two of you were gaining an awareness of what it meant to be boys and girls.

“You’d talk about a certain boy

And he’d give you his advice

While you’d tell him what to say to all of the girls he ‘liked’”

At 13-years-old, things started changing between the two of you. You were given the talk about puberty with a new awareness of the “birds and bees.” Your group of friends increased, often teasing you and Sunghoon but neither of you paid any mind to it. Feelings of conflict often filled you when you noticing the differences in Sunghoon. The way he was taller, his hair styled differently, and the difference in the atmosphere when he got close to you. The things he did for you were done so in silence but were still actions that you noticed like how he’d give you your favorite bag of chips during lunch or how he waited by your locker to walk home with you. Despite realizing that you had a semi crush on Sunghoon, you were started to have feelings for a boy in your English class, one named Jaeyun. With no other person to ask, you’d talk about it with Sunghoon, often failing to notice the way his jaw clenched slightly or how his gaze grew colder. As a rebuttal, he talked about a girl in his English class and you’d give him pointers on how to talk to her despite the slight sinking feeling in your chest. You and Sunghoon had English class together but you didn’t know which girl he liked and you found yourself not wanting to know.

“As he watched you get close to him

He knew it was serious

Something inside lit up a fire

Can’t help if something’s changed”

You and Sunghoon as a pair started including Jaeyun somewhere down the line. Sunghoon found something else he wanted to do apart from ice skating which no one ever thought possible. He first asked you about it, preferring your opinion over any one else’s and while you were scared of losing your best friend you knew that this was something that’d make him happy. So, you told him to go for his dreams of becoming an idol. On the days that you and Sunghoon weren’t together, Jaeyun was there for you which lead to the two of you getting closer. One night, a rare event happened. Sunghoon’s practice ended early and the two of you headed to the ice skating rink. You decided to skate with him today, wanting to have his presence near you rather than watching from afar.

“You and Jaeyun,” you heard him say in a low voice as you skated. Your hands were linked, an action that was something you were used to with how long you’ve known each other that you didn’t think much of it.

“What about Jae?” 

“Are you two… together?” Unsure as to what he was truly trying to ask,

“We went to the festival together yesterday.” The festival was one Sunghoon was supposed to attend with you but couldn’t.

“Just the two of you?”

“Well yeah, since you weren’t there,” you answered. Sunghoon said nothing and you accepted his silence. He was so deep into his thoughts that he ended up tripping over his skates and falling. Because the two of you were holding hands, you were accidentally brought down with him. As the feeling of falling came over you, you waited for the impact of ice on your body but it never felt. Sunghoon let out a slight hiss of pain as you opened your eyes and saw that you were on top of him, his arms wrapped around you to protect you from the ground. His eyes settled on you with an emotion you couldn’t decipher,

“You ok?” he asked. There was something about how the two of you were settled within this moment, the close proximity of your faces, the cold temperature of the ice that caused it to turn a few degrees higher due to the newfound body heat you were sharing, and the way his arms felt so natural around you. A shift in your relationship occurred in this moment and while you both knew it, neither made the effort to acknowledge it. 

“We had so much to lose

But I kissed you anyway”

In the following weeks, you started drawing lines between you and Jaeyun. He didn’t exactly notice that you had a crush on him in the first place with how outgoing he was to everyone, but Sunghoon did notice. However, you drew lines with Sunghoon too as you saw how passionate he was with the dream of becoming an idol. Making an effort to state that you two were just friends despite how much you wanted to be more, Sunghoon allowed himself to stay behind the lines you drew out fear of ruining the foundations the two of you built your life upon. Weeks turned to months which turned to years and before either of you knew what was happening, Sunghoon’s dream of becoming an idol was within his reach. You cheered for him on i-land, and cheered for ENHYPEN when the members were announced. Due to Sunghoon’s newfound busy schedule and the responsibilities of life pressing on you, your video calls that sometimes lasted an entire day shifted to regular calls that decreased in time which turned to mere texts that became inconsistent. Constantly, you found reminders of each other whether it be when you saw a penguin plushy or were drinking a cup of hot chocolate. It didn’t take long before an entire year passed since you last talked to each other. Then, at 3 in the morning, Sunghoon showed up in front of your doorstep.

“Sunghoon?” you asked despite it clearly being him. 

“Can I come in?” For the first time in both of your lives, the silence was something you didn’t know what to do or say. Until finally, you took his hand and brought him inside. Sunghoon was gaining popularity and you didn’t want a box of mangoes being delivered to your doorstep anytime soon. His height towered over yours as you got a good look at the boy you missed more than you cared to admit. As his eyes settled into yours, his hand pulling you closer his arms wrapped around you. 

“I missed you, y/n,” he whispered. There was a gentleness only owned by Park Sunghoon when he lifted up your chin so that you were looking at him. Then, he tilted his head slightly.

“Boys and girls try to pretend

They’re not catching feelings

When they’re catching feelings”

Your eyes fluttered shut as you brought your hand up to his neck. The closeness of your bodies like the time in the ice skating rink where you fell on each other but here the process of falling for each other was truly starting to take effect. Kissing Park Sunghoon now, the two of you were boys and girls trying to pretend you didn’t have any feelings for each other. The only thing was that now you were no longer boys and girls like you used to be. And now, you were no longer pretending.

|❦ end of story, written by riri| |blog master list|

more fics: (the fics linked below are all fluff but the master list has angst)

|warm mornings (jungwon, written by junko)|  |you, jake, and layla (jake, written by riri)| |storms & ghosts (jay, written by riri)|

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝑃𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑜𝑢𝑠 (𝐻𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑗𝑜𝑜𝑛𝑔×𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟) 𝑅𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑

𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: 𝐾𝑖𝑚 𝐻𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑗𝑜𝑜𝑛𝑔 (𝐴𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑧)/ 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 (𝐹𝑒𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑒)

𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: 𝐹𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓, 𝑆𝑚𝑢𝑡

♡♡ 𝐽𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑚, 𝑓𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓𝑦 𝑠𝑚𝑢𝑡 𝐼 𝑤𝑟𝑜𝑡𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑚𝑦 𝑏𝑎𝑏𝑦 @seacottons ♡♡

♡･ﾟ:*｡.:*･ﾟ♡･ﾟ:*｡.:*･ﾟ♡･ﾟ:*｡.:*･ﾟ♡･ﾟ:*｡.:*･ﾟ♡

Hongjoong tapped his pencil on the notepad impatiently, sighing for the 7th time in the minute that passed. He looked at the clock, signaling that it was almost 10:30.

Maybe I shouldn't have asked her to come. It's already late.

He had a tendency to forget that unlike him, most individuals don't like to stay up at odd hours of the night, especially not to work. But he always worked better and got inspired more during the nights. Something about the dark blue sky, crystal glittering stars and even the bustling sounds of the city awakened his senses, enticing him to start writing lyrics down, or play a few melodies on his piano. Of course, sometimes he had the usual composer's block, struggling to come up with the right music or words. Or he ended up feeling lonely and in need of comfort.

That's where Y/N came in. He'd always call her up and asked her if she wouldn't mind keeping him company, a pout always on his lips, almost like a child expecting to be refused. But she'd always be there for him, and he truly appreciated it. And tonight, he was particularly antsy about seeing her. He was getting anxious as more and more time passed and she was nowhere to be seen. Not even a text saying where she was exactly at the moment.

He was about to pick up his phone again to check up on her, when the rattling of the doorknob let him know someone was outside. He had obviously locked the door, never liking to be disturbed by anyone, so he wasn't surprised to hear the person on the other side knock. He got up and opened the door.

"Hi! I'm here!"

A dripping Y/N scurried inside the studio room, getting as close as she could to the heater that was next to the couch. Hongjoong stared in shock as a tiny wet trail was left on the carpet.

"Baby, did you walk here?" He asked, his voice full of concern.

"Well yeah....." She fidgeted with the sleeves of her sweater. "I didn't know it was going to rain and the weather didn't seem too cold, but then tiny sprinkles turned to a heavy downpour.....

But I'm here now!" She said that last part more enthusiastically, trying to ease his mind a little.

But now he felt even more bad than before. She could easily have gotten sick and it would have been his fault.

"You could have just taken a cab back home love."

Y/N pouted at him.

"I know...but I wanted to see you."

His heart melted at her words. She said the same words he had been thinking all night long. Taking small steps, he threw his hoodie over his head and held it out to her.

"Here. You'll catch a cold if you stay in those wet clothes. Take them off and put this on. I'll go see if I can find some towels somewhere."

Y/N nodded and took it. She began unzipping her sweater as Hongjoong went out the door to check the supply closet at the end of the hallway. By pure luck, there was a wide array of freshly cleaned towels on the top rack. He grabbed 3 and placed them underneath his arm before closing the door and making his way back to the studio room.

"I found some towels for-"

He stopped abruptly when he saw Y/N standing there, completely naked. His eyes trailed down her body, some parts still dewy from the rain.

"What? You said to take my clothes of." She reminded him, snapping him out of his trance.

He cleared his throat.

"Well yeah.... I just assumed you'd keep your underwear on."

Y/N chuckled.

"But then your hoodie would get wet, then what would we do Einstein?"

Hongjoong smiled shyly. "I guess you have a point there."

Y/N was about to take a towel from him, but he pulled his arm away before she could reach for it.

"Allow me love."

He began patting her shoulders with the towel, getting some of the wet drops off them. Then he bunched some of her hair in the towel, squeezing any excess water out.

"Let me know if I accidentally pull too hard."

Y/N knew that wouldn't happen. He was always so careful and gentle when it came to these things. Once he was done with that, he discarded that towel and replaced it with another one.

"Jesus, did you get sucked inside a hurricane?" He teased her.

"You're so mean. I wouldn't even be in this condition if you didn't ask me to come." She retaliated.

"I know. I know love."

His hands began traveling down her torso, rubbing softly at her skin. He kept his gaze away when he swiped the towel across her breasts, making Y/N snort.

"Hongjoong, you've seen me naked at least 7 times. Stop acting so innocent."

He blushed at her words and hesitated to continue his task of drying her.

"Here, let me finish."

She took the towel away from him and finished the task he couldn't. She took the hoodie he had given her and threw it over her head, the length of it barely covering up to her mid-thighs, but it would have to do.

"You can turn around now, you drama queen." She rolled her eyes at his acting.

He turned his head and his heart fluttered as it usually did whenever she'd wear any of his clothing. It was kind of a reminder that she was his and his only, a sort of sense of ownership over her, as outrageous as it sounded. But Hongjoong would be the first to admit that he was indeed possessive over Y/N. She was just so beautiful and precious to him, he couldn't help but think that way at times.

He leaned and just pulled her into an embrace, holding her as if he hadn't seen her in years. Y/N reciprocated the action by wrapping her arms around his waist, getting the hint that he wanted to stay in that position for a while. He began caressing the back of her head, her hair still humid, but he didn't care. His other hand ran up and down her back, occasionally drawing random shapes into it.

Before he knew it, he was placing kisses on the side of her face, eventually kissing her forehead and resting his lips there. Y/N smiled fondly at that. Forehead kisses were Hongjoong's way of telling her he adored and cherished her profusely. He mentioned it to her one day when he had done that more often than any other times. Ever since then, she loved it when he did it, now knowing there was a meaning behind his actions.

Pulling back, he cupped her cheeks and squished them gently. Puckering his lips, he moved her face side to side, cooing softly at her.

"Who could not fall in love with such a cute face like this?"

She cringed at his words, but Hongjoong knew better. She did have a love-hate relationship with him babying her.

"You're such a dork." She let out a tiny yawn after she said those words.

Hongjoong pouted. "Oh love. I'm sorry for making you come out so late."

She shook her head.

"It's fine. Did you want something in particular?"

Hongjoong hummed softly, thinking about it. He wanted to hold her, that was for sure. But he also knew he wanted to try something, if she was up for it. Smirking, he brushed some hair off her face.

"Well.... I still have a few verses left to finish. What do you say if we try a little..... cockwarming?"

Y/N's ears perked up at the idea.

"Cockwarming?"

"Yes think about it love. Me nestled inside you, while you take a nap on my lap until I finish the song?" He looked to her with hopeful eyes.

She eyed him suspiciously.

"And what about when you're done?"

Hongjoong wiggled his eyebrows.

"Well, if you're not too tired, we could try something else."

Y/N giggled.

"Are you sure you'll be able to control yourself?"

Hongjoong smiled before picking her up and wrapping her legs around his waist.

"Only one way to find out love."

He set her down on his desk and began unzipping his pants. Taking his cock out, he stroked himself a few times before sitting down on his chair. Turning his attention back to Y/N, he pulled her off the desk, placing her on top of his thighs. He licked his fingers before slipping them in between her folds, wanting to make sure she was wet enough so it wouldn't hurt her in any way. He slowly slid them in and out of her, occasionally scissoring them, stretching her out. He glimpsed over at Y/N, who was biting her lip as she tried not to let out any noises.

"You worry about me, but I think it's you who won't be able to resist." He chuckled.

Y/N rolled her eyes. "We'll see."

Satisfied with his job, Hongjoong lifted her up and maintained eye contact as he slowly sank her down onto his length. They both moaned at the warm feeling, it had been so long since they were like this. Y/N let her legs dangle and she rested her face on his shoulder. Hongjoong wrapped his arms around her.

"Take a rest. I'll be done soon enough"

Y/N mumbled something incoherently, already dozing off thanks to Hongjoong's warmth and his scent that she loved inhaling. Muttering a small 'cute', he went back to work.

The words were now flowing even smoother than before. He always did say he worked a lot better if Y/N was around. The others would always think he was just being delusional, but he disagreed. Her presence just makes him more calm, serene and helps him focus. He'd often joke about her being his muse, but even she would often roll her eyes at his statement.

He didn't know how much time had passed, all he could hear was the sound of his pencil scribbling on the paper and Y/N's faint breathing on his neck. Once in a while, he'd give her thigh a gentle squeeze or kiss her arm that was wrapped around his other shoulder, where her head wasn't. He had completely forgotten he was even inside her.

He was only reminded of it when he looked at the time that was marking that it was almost midnight. He debated whether to wake her up and take her home, or rearrange the couch so it could become a bed. Eden was the one who suggested keeping a sofa that could turn into a bed, and even kept a couple pillows and blankets in the studio since Hongjoong practically lived there at times.

But then again, she looked so comfortable and peaceful, and it wouldn't be the first time he slept in the chair. Turning off the light, he began closing his eyes, wanting to drift off to sleep as well.

But then Y/N shifted in her sleep, causing Hongjoong to jolt up and hold her hips, thinking she was going to fall. She groaned softly and shifted even more, causing his cock to twitch.

Oh my God.

He thought he was doing so well, and he could cool himself down, but the feeling was too good. Without thinking about it, he began to gently roll his hips up against hers, ever so slightly so as to not wake her up. At least that was the plan.

He smiled mischievously though when he heard her moan against his ear. He could feel her growing wetter, making it easier for him to slip in and out of her.

"Fuck." He whispered to himself.

He was getting even more turned on by the fact he was practically fucking his girlfriend while she was asleep. He shouldn't get aroused by that fact, but he was. And to know that even in her sleep she was moaning boosted his ego.

Y/N fluttered her eyes open, whimpering slightly at being woken up with an intense need. She lifted her face and was met with Hongjoong's face, his eyes full of lust and desire as he continued rolling his hips against hers.

"I'm sorry baby. It was just too tempting."

He apologized, but she knew he wasn't the least bit sorry. And she wasn't mad either way. It was definitely one of the best ways to wake up. She placed her hands on his shoulders, to steady herself as she began grinding down on him, not wanting him to have his fun only. Hongjoong hissed at the change of pace, loving the way she looked: in his hoodie, on top of him and desperate to get some release.

Hongjoong's hands went to her waist, pressing her closer to him as he kissed her passionately, his tongue slipping inside hers. His hands wandered inside the hoodie, cupping her breasts and playing with her nipples, causing her to shudder and tighten around his cock.

Hongjoong pulled back, gasping for air.

"Fuck baby. If- if you keep doing that, I w-won't be able to last much longer." He told her, trying to hold back as much as he could.

Y/N chuckled and challenged him.

"Then make me cum."

Oh. Those 4 words always set Hongjoong off. One of his hands went down between her legs, his thumb playing around with her clit. His lips attached themselves to her neck as he sucked and nibbled on all her sensitive places, having memorized all of them. All of that, plus the way his strokes got even deeper and faster had Y/N whimpering and panting above him. Hongjoong pulled back only to tease her:

"What? You asked me to make you cum and that's what you're going to get love."

His free hand wrapped around her neck, squeezing it enough to make her dizzy, but not harshly. He growled in her ear:

"Now do it baby. Cum all over my cock. I want to feel you come undone before I fill up your pretty little pussy with my cum."

She threw her head back as she clenched around him, his words being the final straw for her to break and release all over him with a soft cry of his name. She hid her face on his neck, gripping him tightly as he helped her ride out her orgasm. Her walls clenching and squeezing him tightly had him coming undone seconds after her. She felt his hot cum coat her walls, his voice muttering curses as his movements stilled, trying to catch his breath.

After a minute, Hongjoong looked back at her.

"Baby? You good?"

She nodded. "Tired."

"I know love. Hold on."

Getting up, still inside her, he walked over to the couch and set her down. He began to miss her warmth as soon as he pulled out of her. Grabbing one of the previously acquired towels, he wiped her inner thighs where some of his cum had dripped out.

Y/N was pretty much half asleep by now. So Hongjoong tried to move her as little as possible as he adjusted the couch to turn it into a bed. Grabbing one of the blankets from under his desk, he covered Y/N with it and layed down next to her, pulling her against his chest.

He stared at her sleeping figure for a while, admiring her features and smiling to himself. His finger traced her lips slowly before he pecked them with tenderness.

"I love you Y/N."

He wasn't expecting her to answer, but she surprised him when she unconsciously nestled herself closer to him and mumbled 'I love you' back to him, causing him to giggle at her cuteness.

She truly was such a precious being.

♡･ﾟ:*｡.:*･ﾟ♡･ﾟ:*｡.:*･ﾟ♡･ﾟ:*｡.:*･ﾟ♡･ﾟ:*｡.:*･ﾟ♡

[kakubun]

Animator!Y/N

karasuno x gen!reader, hinata x reader

a/n: people who do animation, just take my whole heart pls

this felt like a proper fic but sorry if it's short,,

(please reblog darlings)

yachi first started being curious about you since you were one of the teacher's pet, always lingering around the art teacher asking questions with a tablet in hand

she was nosy, she had to admit

she wanted to sneak a glance whenever you drew on your tablet and you would glance at her if she wants to take a look but she managed to look away before you saw

but she finally founds out what you're doing when some students partake in presentation (even if you didn't want to, the teacher liked you so you had to) and you presented yours

her little heart couldn't handle her excitement when fluid carefully drawn animation popped up on the screen and you looked at your hard work with pride

whatever subject was in the animation you discussed about it with the class and you couldn't help but of course notice the crooked smile that yachi had

she was impressed and filled with so much undescribable feelings, she could cry with how astonishing your work is

after art class yachi decided to approach you and ask a bunch of questions to you and you had the pleasure to answer all of them

you also wanted to cry because of how hyper of a puppy was when yachi would bounce up and down when you started describing about your work and how she would apologize if she was being too excited which you would shake your head to and laugh

you started exchanging numbers and you saved her under "gal who won't stop staring", of course you noticed

she couldn't hide it,,

after finding out where she was after school so you could ask her about art projects or catching up when you're absent, you started going to the club a lot more to also see the boys

they would always see you sliding into the gym and going to one of their managers and asking yachi about something

which they didn't mind much, the simpy duo thought you were stealing her away which you teased them by putting an arm around her as she laughs and says "there was nothing to worry about, y/n doesn't bite"

the whole team suprisingly loves to see your work especially hinata since he would make sound affects for your characters if you haven't added any audio yet

he would leap when your character does a transition or the scenery changes and he would gush about how cool you and your animation were

you, hinata and yachi would walk home admiring your work and yachi would also pull out her drawing as well to show both of you

hinata were both your hype man, he would compliment and point out every detail he loves

(i'm also convinced he has made doodles but they would look wonky but cute)

and since you two were close you always had sleepovers!!

usually it was at hinata's house so you could bond with natsu and she was entertained by your animations that you set up on your projecter

sometimes hinata's mom would pop up and see how it goes and she appreaciates having you over since you were such a kind and close friend of hinata that matches his energy

it was such a blast, stuffing yourselves with snacks and chortling till midnight which hinata's mom would try to shush all of you but she couldn't help but join in because it was so much fun

you would all have headaches though the next day buuut it was worth it~~

whenever you feel out of it, yachi's there

she would always be there to give you snacks or ask you take a few breaks if you worked too much

she would try to scold you and you just can't help but follow because it would be mean of you to ignore her words

and oh they were so wise

it helped you through times when she wasn't even there and it was good that you followed so you didn't hurt your mental health from the get go

now to timeskip,,

T I M E S K I P :

you were an independant animator animating part of your manga with your crew which you grouped together with your friend who was the boss of everything

you felt proud of yourself since you reached a long way,

how your parent/s didn't suppprt you from the start to how stress swallows you whenever you were near a deadline to how people complain if their request wasn't fulfilled to their liking,

yes, you still experienced it but it was a lot more better now than your highschool years telling you to shut up about your dreams

here you were animating frame by frame of your own creation,

what exactly was your manga about?

volleyball :))

yachi and karasuno's volleyball team has inspired you so much about how much team work and pain they went through and your heart stop whenever you remember

your big inspo, yachi who would never stop babbling about you and being right by your side when you need it

you might cry on the tablet you're drawing on which make your crew question on what are you crying about but you held back which also made your crew question why were you smiling so hard

nonetheless, you were almost happy everyday because you could reminisce with the ideas yachi gave you back then which you still kept dearly because they were great plot points

and how you stick close to each character no matter how goofy or chaotic they were, they had a lesson for each time they appear and dissappear

that's how the stadium smelled like, the colours and the adrenaline you felt by cheers from the crowds, you felt like you could fly right now with how much you wanted to scream the team's name and let them notice you

it smelled like the victory the monster duo had, it filled you with so much glee to watch them gain fans from the sidelines

you also felt hinata and kageyama's pride swelling and you could knock your chair over if you kept this up

there he was the orange haired boy who used to be your biggest fan standing in front of you who now has a lot more fans trailing behind him

eventhough he smelled musky and felt sweaty you can't control the urge to hug him and he also can't too

you later hugged kageyama and just spilled all your excitement to both of them on how well the matches went and hinata couldn't resist hugging you again and twirling you around

he planned on telling you all about your manga and how he haven't catched up on it yet on some of it and a pang struck your heart as you teared up which confused hinata

ah, he still remembered

"are you crazy, of course i did!" his boyish laughter was louder than your sobs when he rested your head on his chest and pushed him off, complaining about how sweaty he was

oh you silly goose, of course he did

you also met up with the rest and tumbled into yachi when she appeared around the corner and everyone laughed it out

either of you got a headache as you both help each other up

hinata and kageyama would stand near the third years who held their hearts and congratulated them

which kageyama would smile and nod while hinata would still bashfully scratch his neck while happily thanking them because his seniors were proud of him

you would take a selfie with yachi and hinata, yachi would be the one leaping off the ground and eventhough the picture was a little blurry atleast you could catch both of their smiles

the next time you meet up, hinata was there in his comfy clothes melting into all the pillows you pelted at him and you snuggled right next to him when you both were fresh out the shower

just like the old times, how he would wrap around your arm and yachi would be on your left doing the same

except this time, you were the one snuggling onto hinata's arm

you felt kinda sad that yachi couldn't join since she was really busy

but hinata interrupted your thoughts with a screech when you whipped your head back to see what he was doing

the television showed your blood sweat and tears of the countless projects and art that you did about it, dropping your head on hinata's shoulder as not even a second in, you got a series of shout and yells of eagerness from him

"i added a reference of you somewhere~" "huh! really? did you add kageyama?? he'll text me about it later-"

and the night was drowning in the amounts of laughter and euphoria you two shared,

the number 2 who supports you will always be the number 1 in your heart

[blueskrugs]

All’s Fair in Love and (Nerf) Wars | Matthew Tkachuk

this can be blamed entirely on my overly competitive ass and @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69​ who asked for this, but also the picture that inspired this whole thing to begin with. 

let’s have some fun with the whole Tkachuk clan, yeah?

length: 1.5k words

It was raining. Scratch that. It was pouring, your typical Midwestern summer thunderstorm that turned the skies grey-green, with the occasional thunderclap so loud the windows rattled. You were perfectly content to curl up near a window with a book or a movie for the day, but Matthew didn’t take well to being stuck inside the house.

“I’m bored,” he groaned, flopping onto the couch dramatically. 

You snorted, not looking at him. He poked you in the calf. You half-heartedly kicked out your foot at him, but he just grabbed your ankle and held on to it. 

“Babe,” he whined, drawing out the word. “I’m bored.”

“You’ve said that, Matty,” you said, looking at Matthew. His curls were askew, and he was looking at you upside down from where he was laying near your feet. He pouted at you. 

“Y’know, you won’t melt if you go outside. Probably,” Taryn chimed in from her spot on the other couch. Matthew flips her off but is immediately scolded by Chantal.

“Play a game together or something,” his mom said as she walked away. 

You, Matt, and Taryn shared a look. The last time you had all played Monopoly had ended with Matthew storming off after he kept landing on your hotels, and any attempts to play video games together usually devolve into yelling and sabotage. (Matt once threw an actual banana peel at your head while playing Mario Kart.) You don’t know what any of you expected, really. 

Matthew sat up suddenly, knocking away from where you had absently been playing with his curls, and also nearly slamming the top of his head into your chin. 

“I have an idea,” he said, bouncing off the couch. You and Taryn groaned at the same time. Matt shoots you both a dirty look before rushing off to the basement. 

He doesn’t come back after a couple minutes, so you settle back in to read your book. You’ve almost forgotten that Matthew had left on a mission when you’re hit in the cheek with a Nerf dart. 

“Ow! What the fuck?” 

“Hey, watch your language, my baby sister is in the room!” Taryn scoffed; Matt shot her, too. 

“Was this your idea?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at Matthew. “Just shoot me and Taryn with Nerf darts because you’re annoying?”

“Nah,” Matthew said, pulling out another Nerf gun. “Catch.”

You did, automatically checking to see if Matthew had been kind enough to load darts in it for you. He had, so you shot him in the belly button. He groaned and raised his gun to shoot at you again.  

“Hang on, how come I don’t get a gun?” Taryn protested.

“Because then I’ll be outnumbered?” Matthew said.

There was a pause, then all three of you yelled, “Brady!”

Brady stumbled downstairs a moment later, looking like he’d been asleep.

“Nerf war, little bro,” Matthew said, still brandishing his gun. “All the guns and darts you can carry, let’s go.” Brady shook his head but followed Matthew down to the basement, you and Taryn close behind. 

Matthew had dragged out the big storage container of Nerf stuff from somewhere in the depths of their basement, and there were already foam darts scattered all over the floor. Matthew dropped to his knees beside the bin and started digging through it again. It was mostly quiet for a couple minutes as you all collected guns and ammo, aside from small arguments over certain guns, until Taryn saw Matt and Brady stashing darts in their shorts’ pockets.

“Hey, wait a minute, that’s not fair. We don’t have pockets,” she said.

“Sucks to suck,” Matt said, not looking up from where he was filling a revolver. 

Taryn shot him in the hand, which resulted in a small shootout while you and Brady rolled your eyes at each other. In the end, you and Taryn each ended up in one of the boys’ hoodies; you loaded up the hood and the pocket with spare darts. 

Once you’d all decided that you were prepared enough, the boys claimed the basement as a base, and you and Taryn took over the living room.

It didn’t take long for chaos to ensue. Matt and Brady tried to make the first move, and tried to sneak up on you and Taryn, but you were each guarding a doorway into the living room, and the boys retreated quickly. You followed and sat near the top of the stairs to pelt whoever tried to come up them. It went on for nearly ten minutes, until Matthew got frustrated and yelled that he was going to take you hostage if you didn’t stop.

It was quiet for a few minutes, then, while you and Taryn debated trying to attack the boys in the basement, and Matt and Brady presumably making their own plans. Outside, the rain was still coming down steadily. 

It turned out that both teams decided to attack at the same time, and you met in the hallway. There was a flurry of darts. Someone got you in the cheek. You shot Matthew in the ear and Brady in the arm. Taryn got the most shots in, though, and in an attempt to escape upstairs, Brady tripped over his feet and fell up the stairs. You and Taryn were too busy laughing to keep shooting him. 

You were hunting for spare darts on the ground when Brady ambushed you, and you both ran down the hallway yelling.

“Glad the kids are getting along,” you heard Keith comment mildly as you ran past him.

There was a standoff in the basement a little while later. You and Taryn were on one side of the couch, and Matt and Brady were on the other. Any attempts to move just resulted in getting shot, so no one was doing much. You could hear Matt and Brady talking quietly, but you couldn’t make out what they were saying. You and Taryn, on the other hand, were just texting each other.

“Hey,” Matthew called. His head popped up a little, and you carefully aimed a dart at his curls. “Ow.”

“Whatever you’re gonna say, the answer is no,” you said automatically. Though, you were getting a little tired of sitting on the floor. 

“What I was going to say,” Matthew started, but you never found out exactly what he was going to say, because Keith burst down the stairs at that moment, gun in hand.

You and Taryn both shrieked and scrambled for better cover, but Walt was– surprisingly– faster, and your back got pelted with darts. Matt and Brady must’ve tried to see what the commotion was about, because you heard them both yell, followed by Keith laughing.  You scrambled over the couch and turned to attack Keith back, and Taryn followed you. 

“Where did he even get a gun?” Matthew asked, ducking to avoid a dart that went past his ear.

“Must’ve grabbed one of the ones we left upstairs,” Taryn replied, neatly shooting her dad in the shoulder. 

“Why the fuck would you do that?” Matthew asked. He was too busy looking appalled at you and Taryn, and didn’t notice that he was exposed. He got hit twice in the chest and fell backwards, groaning. 

“Language,” you chided, leaning up to get Keith in the hand. 

There were three more of you than there were of Keith, which meant more guns, and before long he was out of darts. 

“Alright, alright, I surrender,” he laughed. Brady shot him once more in the stomach for good measure before he left his gun behind and went back upstairs.

Matthew flopped onto the couch and sighed. You started to level your gun at him, but he knocked it out of your hands.

“I’m so tired,” he said.

“Is that you giving up?” Taryn said from next to you. “Do we win?”

“Technically, I had the last shot,” Brady piped in.

The only logical response was to shoot him, which Taryn did, nailing him easily in the sternum. 

“Now we win,” she said smugly. 

When Chantal called everyone to clean up for dinner, you walked around the house to survey the carnage. Someone– Brady, probably– had shot a suction dart at a picture frame, where it was stuck neatly over Matthew’s face. Someone had gotten multiple darts stuck in the bubble hockey game. There was another on top of a doorframe. Matthew spent five minutes digging darts out from underneath and between sofa cushions. Miraculously, nothing had been broken, though Brady was complaining about his toe from when he tripped on the stairs. 

It had stopped raining at some point while you were all in the basement, and the setting sun was starting to peek through the clouds.

“Did you kids have fun?” Chantal asked as you all sat down.

“Oh yeah,” Matthew said, kissing your cheek as he slid into the chair next to you. “The girls kicked our asses though,” he added.

You and Taryn high-fived across the table.

[cheoliehae]

121U! - jeon wonwoo // seventeen au

❖ soulmate: you are able to communicate with your soulmate via a special chat room but you are both unaware of who you are due to the username

❖ a/n: hi everyone, so if you been here since the beginning of my blog you know that i used to write bts text au and that I also have skz au writing account. well since im in my 3rd year of uni i started to write to relieve stress and it’s really fun. so enjoy this idea i had that was og for my skz blog. if you haven’t figured it out yet I took inspiration from Day6 song 121U (aka a bop) as well as A Cinderella Story (you know the one with Hillary Duff, a CLASSIC). It is unsure how much i will write on this blog since again i only write when i am relieving stress so until next time enjoy :)

❖ word count: 1.6k (legit one word away from 1.7k)

❖ paring: jeon wonwoo  x gn reader

❖: high school au, soulmate au

Ah, high school, a time where smarts and social status do not mix well together. You are either lucky enough to be a part of the popular crowd, being invited to all of the hottest parties, and dating the hottest people. Or get a normal student focusing on their studies and not giving a crap about any social status that one may obtain. Walking down the hallway with your earbuds in your ear you didn’t care about the people around you. You were just at school to study and graduate knowing that you were destined for greatness after high school.

“Excuse me,” you heard a voice coming from behind you. Pulling out your airpods you were faced with Mina and her group of followers. “Can I help you?” you questioned her as you had no idea what she wanted from you. You have never even said two words to her before this moment so you were highly confused about what was happening. “You are walking slowly and my locker is right there so can you please use your two legs and move faster please,” Mina motioned for her hands to move. Rolling your eyes you did just that and proceed to walk into class.

“Hey y/n you look, not good,” your best friend Joshua as he saw you sit down at your desk. Setting your head down a small sigh left your month “I hate Myoui Mina with a passion, I get it she is popular but does that give her a reason to freakin pick on everyone like come freakin on”. Joshua extended his arm and gently pat you on the back “there their y/n, rant to your best friend,”. Raising your head up you saw Mina walking into class with her boyfriend Wonwoo as his arm was around her. “Great this is going to be a long day,” you set your head back down and moped.

As time passed by you started to get bored in class as you finished all of your assignments. You opened a new tab on your laptop and entered into a chatroom. A smile grew on your face as you got excited seeing your friend mrbookworm was online. A bit of backstory mrbookworm is actually your soulmate but you felt really awkward calling him your soulmate since you had no idea who he was.

ouasunshine: hey i see that you are alive

mrbookworm: yeah i finished my classwork a bit early so i wanted to see if you were on or not

mrbookworm: and just like i expected here you are :)

ouasunshine: i am highly convinced that you are just on this chat room 24/7 waiting for me to come online

mrbookworm: you would be disappointed if that was false ;)

ouasunshine: dont get cheesy with me.

A chuckle left your mouth knowing how much mrbookworm made you feel. But it sucked that you did not know him in person cause you really did believe that if you did your whole world would be different. He seems like the type of person who really did not care about social status or what others think of him. 

mrbookworm: how are your classes today?

ouasunshine: the normally but I did have a lovely run-in with one of the ‘popular’ at my school

ouasunshine: let’s just say it was not really the highlight of my day

mrbookworm: :( im sorry you had a rough day I wish there to make you feel better

ouasunshine: i have to go, the bell just rang

Packing up your backpack and quickly walked out of the classroom trying your best to avoid any more interactions with that clique. Which for once was in your favor as you didn’t run into any of that crowd for the rest of the school day. Your absolute favorite time of the day was when the last bell rang and you were able to go to the library. It was quiet and wasn’t too crowded unless it was midterm or final season. The librarians were also very appreciative that you came during your free time and helped out. “Y/n, I just wanted to let you know that we are going to close up a bit early so don’t be alarmed okay,”. “I won’t Mrs. Park,” you said with a smile on your face and then returned to your book. 

As time passed you were getting lost in your book. “Excuse me,” looking up from your book you say Wonwoo standing in front of you “Um can I check out a laptop?”. “Sure but the library is closing early so you have at least 30 minutes before I have to ask for it back. ID please,” you held out your hand. He handed it to you and once you scanned everything you handed it back to him. You watched as he walked away and returned to your book. Looking over at the desk that was in front of you you saw your phone buzzing. You moved forwards to see if anyone was in your line of sight and if anyone could see you, let’s just say you were in the clear.

mrbookworm: if you were picking out a book for me, what book would you recommend?

ouasunshine: what makes you say that I am a reader?

mrbookworm: well for one thing your soulmate is a bookworm aka i am a bookworm 

mrbookworm: i kinda hope that my soulmate is one too

ouasunshine: Are We There Yet? by David Levithan. It is about two brothers who go to Italy and they end up falling for the same girl but neither of them knows. It is pretty good. I give it a solid ⅘ but it definitely breaks the love standards that we are used to.

mrbookworm: wow i can’t imagine a system without soulmates

ouasunshine: i feel like the system of soulmates will still exist but people won’t know see the signs unless they are truly in love

mrbookworm: do you think there will be a possibility that we would be soulmates without this whole soulmate system.

ouasunshine: that is really hard to say

The clock hit 15:30 and you had to leave. So you logged out and looked around for Wonwoo to get everything back. “Um hey so,” you said walking up to where he was sitting out. “Oh is it time already?,” he said looking at his watch and then back at you. “Yeah, sorry for kicking you out I guess? I mean I know we are open later than this but you know closing hours aren’t my rules to make,” you said looking at him. “No no I understand, do you think I can check out a book or will it be easier to get it tomorrow morning?”. “Probably come tomorrow morning then you have more time to actually look for your book if you have no idea where it is located,”. “Yeah I think that will be my best bet. Thanks for the help y/n,”.

You were taken aback by him saying your name was this was one of the first time that you have ever had a conversation with him. “No problem, Wonwoo,: smiling back at him as you walked him out before locking up.

As the night was drawing to an end you were laying in bed finishing up an homework assignment. It was a simple reading so it was nothing heavy but you did wish that time would pass faster. A ding from your computer and you saw the lovely notification from your soulmate.

mrbookworm: two truths and one lie?

ouasunshine: hello to you too,

ouasunshine: what are you doing lol

mrbookworm: i’m bored and I don't feel like bothering my friends

ouasunshine: so you wanted to bother me?

mrbookworm: you’re my soulmate ;)

mrbookworm: you are kinda stuck with me forever 

ouasunshine: i mean i guess i can spare a minute or two

ouasunshine: ummm

ouasunshine: my favorite cake is red velvet, i played soccer as a kid and i’m 75% certain i was a butterfly in my kindergarten school play.

mrbookworm: oh that is an easy one

mrbookworm: it's the butterfly one

ouasunshine: i wish you can hear me laugh

ouasunshine: it is actually the cake one

mrbookworm: you’re lying

ouasunshine: no i believe that i have a picture somewhere.

ouasunshine: i was either a butterfly or a flower but i have a picture somewhere

mrbookworm: well when i meet you in person you will have to show me

mrbookworm: but what is the lie?

ouasunshine: i really don't like red velvet cake

For the rest of the night, you were talking to your soulmate. And just like you wished for at the beginning of the night the hours did fly by when you were talking to him.

Arriving at school early you walked straight to the library. You unlocked the door and headed to the main deck and pulled out the book that you were reading last night. And to your surprise the first person who entered was Wonwoo.

“Good Morning,” he said, walking up to the desk with a smile on his face. The soft curls from his hair lightly hit the top of his glasses. And the grey sweatshirt that he wasn’t helping his case and we really did look nice. “Hey morning, are you here to look for that book from yesterday?”. “Yeah I am looking for Are We There Yet? by David Levithan,”. Your head lifted from the computer and stopped typing mid-sentence. “No there is no way,” you thought to yourself. “Is there something wrong? Is it checked out?”. “No it’s not that, it’s just I recommended that book to someone yesterday, it is one of my favorites,” you said looking away. “Oh same, well not me recommended but it was recommended to me,” Wonwoo said looking down at the ground.

“This is a very out of the blue question but are you mrbookworm? Again totally random questions and if you aren’t that this is highly embarrassing,”. Wonwoo just looked at you and smiled. “Hi ouasunshine, I’m expecting to see that picture of you as a butterfly one day, maybe over coffee?”. “I would really like that,”.

[blu-joons]

Dating Kim Yugyeom ~ GOT7 Headcanon

Getting Together:

It was your dancing that first made Yugyeom look over at you

After he watched you enjoying dancing, he decided to use a few of his own moves to make sure you spotted him too

As you danced around, the two of you awkwardly bumped into each other, both of you breaking into laughter

Yugyeom was quick to apologise for not noticing where he was going

You were quick to let him know it didn’t matter, and asked him to dance

A conversation was soon started between the two of you as you began to introduce yourselves

For the rest of the night, you danced and talked, like no one else was around

Yugyeom ended up asking you on a date, and a few days later met you at a local silent disco event

He couldn’t wait to stand back and watch you dance again, loving watching how you always let loose

From then, the two of you were always texting or calling, especially when there was an event you wanted to go to together

At least once a week, usually more, the two of you would meet up and hang out together

He was very protective of you from the start, he’d always keep you close to him

He also couldn’t wait to introduce you to Dalkyum as well, as he knew you’d love him

As he began to really catch feelings, he’d talk to BamBam a lot and get plenty of advice from him

He didn’t want to rush things and scare you away, but he knew he saw you as more than just a friend

As the boys became more interested in your relationship, he knew he needed to think about making things official

He didn’t want to make too big of an ordeal about it, so he simply invited you over one night

Straight away when you arrived that night you could tell that there was something not right

Yugyeom was terrified that you’d reject him, even if he were pretty confident that you felt the same way that he did

After the two of you finished the movie you’d been watching, he decided to make his move

Before you could grab the remote to pick another film, he took a hold of your hand

“I brought you here tonight not just to watch movies, but I wanted to know how you’d feel about being my girlfriend? That’s if you want to be.”

He’d never felt as nervous as he did when he was waiting for you to respond

“Of course, I’d love to be Yugyeom, you didn’t need to be so scared.”

He pulled you nice and close as he eventually let you pick the next movie

In fact, he was reluctant even to let you go at the end of the night when you told him you needed to get home for work

From that moment, he barely ever let you go, he always liked to have some sort of a hold on you

He couldn’t wait to tell the boys as well that he’d actually done it

As soon as he shut the door that night, he was straight on the phone to BamBam

Being In A Relationship:

He could always make you laugh with his humour, he was evil, in the best possible way

Being so tall, he loves to cuddle you and make you feel safe

Dalkyum on the other hand is quite as keen to share his father, always interrupting you both

Whenever he could, he’d make time for you, even if it were just an hour or two

You’d always be sitting around the house and watching him dance around the house to try and perfect his choreography

Whenever he’s producing as well, he likes to have you around just so he can get your opinion on what he’s doing

He loves to pose for photos for you to take of him to upload onto his Instagram

But equally he loves to take photos of you, but no one gets to see them except for you

Your dates are usually spent somewhere chilled, with a bit of music and maybe the two of you having a dance

You absolutely love when he wears his vests that are low cut so you can peer in and see his abs

Whenever you go clothes shopping together, you’ll always encourage him to buy a few more

From time to time, you appear on lives with him at the request of the fans who are desperate to see you

Again, as he’s so tall, he loves to be the big spoon and take care of you first

If he really wants to treat you, he’ll try and cook, but it doesn’t usually end too well

The two of you were loved by everyone around you, they could see how close you were

His confidence shot up when you were around, you were a huge support for him

If he’d had a bit of a long day, he loved to go out on late night drives and explore the city

You’d always stop off somewhere and grab some food, and sit and talk about anything until one of you got tired

The biggest sign you usually got sleepy was when you lay against his arms

He loved whenever you called him ‘Yugie,’ it would always make him blush

The two of you are very playful, always playing jokes on each other and winding each other up

When he cuddles you, he loves to play with your hair and try and plait it or twirl it

Your favourite sound in the world was his little giggle he did whenever he got nervous

He’d always do it especially during interviews or when he was asked about you

The fans loved to see how shy he became whenever you were mentioned, and often teased him about it

And then he’d come home for you to tease him just a little more too

You loved to steal his hats and couple them with your outfits when he wasn’t looking

He tried to bring you with him to as many overseas events as possible so you could see the world too

If you weren’t able to go, he’d take an item of your clothing with him so he could have a part of you close to him

When he slept with you, he’d always like to hold you and make you feel protected

You’d often feel his legs or hands moving as he went over his routines in his head as he slept

If you couldn’t sleep, you’d often trace around his tattoos or draw some designs to go next to them

He pretended not to care, but secretly he loved feeling your fingers move along his skin

He’d even memorise some of the little patterns that you came up with for future tattoo ideas he had

Every morning, he’d always wake you up with the tightest hug to make sure that you were nice and warm

Ever since he had Dalkyum he became quite a morning person, so he’d always be the first one up with a cup of coffee or something

He was a bit of a thrill seeker, so he loved to drag you around to theme parks and adventures

And if you were nervous, of course, he’d be there to hold your hand

Quite a few of his more recent mixtapes definitely had subtle hints that you were the inspiration behind them

It was a lot easier for him to come up with lyrics with you with him, sometimes all he’d have to do was look at you 

Skinship/Affection:

He is definitely a big cuddly baby when he wants to be

Yugyeom’s always coming up behind you and giving you cuddles and plenty of affection

He couldn’t go long before he’d want to be stood behind you with his arms wrapped around your waist

His long fingers often tickle against your hips to make sure that you’re smiling

He often switches between either being very cuddly, or very needy for some sort of intimacy

You tend to let him do most of the work when the two of you are close and let him take control

His hands love to explore your body, and put you where he wants you

After sex, it is guaranteed that he goes back to his usual cuddly self and cares for you

Lots of kisses anytime the two of you are close, very sweet, very quick

He loves to take his time and really make sure that you feel special and loved

Don’t be expecting a quick fix from Yugyeom because he won’t be giving it to you

He hates being quick and rushing things, he much prefers to hold onto the moment, and you

The biggest turn on for him was when he’d feel your hands running through his hair

His little moans always put the biggest smile on your face as you grabbed him a little tighter

If he really were feeling romantic, he’d again, try and cook (usually failing!) and make the bedroom nice and romantic for you

One thing he always knew, was at the end of a long day, a cuddle from you was exactly what he needed to feel better again

 Arguments: 

If you’ve ever watched Got7ing, you’ll know Yugyeom hates arguments, especially when he’s the cause of it

He hated hearing you shout or making you upset, nothing in the world was worse

Yugyeom would usually turn very quiet and do whatever he could to try and fix the situation

He tended to just sit back and listen to what you had to say before he reacted

It took a lot for you to ever wind Yugyeom up he was usually always so calm

Once you’d got what you wanted off your chest, he’d usually just pull you into a massive hug and sort things out

You two never let arguments explode, you were far too calm to ever let anything get too big

Neither of you were perfect, however much you probably wanted to be

The moment you looked at Yugyeom’s face after getting angry you’d realise how stupid it was

Everyone could always tell when even the smallest argument had happened however, as he’d always be so quiet at the studio

He hated crying and showing you that fights had gotten to him, but he couldn’t help it

When he came back home after an argument, he’d always have something with him by way of an apology

Even if he felt he’d done nothing wrong, knowing that something had gotten to you would break his heart

He may be tall, but Yugyeom really is our softest boy

 Your Relationship With The Boys: 

The boys loved to tease their maknae for finding you

But that didn’t stop them finding the two of you utterly adorable and loving your relationship

Of course, BamBam was the member you were closest too as you spent so much time with him and Yugyeom

JB enjoyed having someone else around who would put the boys in their places and keep them in check

When you were tired, you could sit and talk to Jinyoung all day long, he was great for a good conversation

Youngjae was quite opposite to Yugyeom, which is why you got along with him so well as he showed you more of the music side of the group

You definitely found an annoying elder brother in Mark, he loved to tease you more than anyone else in the group

Jackson loved that you took such good care of him, you could tell straight away when his schedule was getting to you

At times, they struggled to remember exactly what life was like without you around to care for them all

But they knew that having you come into their lives was something they were all appreciative for

 The Future: 

Settling down and looking too far into the future wasn’t something Yugyeom wanted to do as he was still so young

You knew GOT7 would be his focus for a few years yet, but that didn’t stop him from assuring you that one day it would happen

He’d waited for a few of the elder boys to start settling down before he did too, as the group naturally moved to the next stage of life

The two of you decided to marry just before Yugyeom enlisted, as a piece of security whilst he was away

Of course, that put you in charge of Dalkyum and let you get plenty of practice before you had children

Which Yugyeom couldn’t wait to do when he discharged, and complete your family…

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