#trying to figure out what inside joke the initial request was in reference to

[ponds-of-ink]

The urge to suggest the Cheesecake pallet with William as a sort of inside joke... (Is it an inside joke if it's a suggestion that's been made out in the open?)

Other then that... Lobotomy with Scraptrap?

(Unless this is too late... I realize the pallets were reblogged hours ago)

So, uh… He thought he was getting actual cheesecake as an after work treat. Whoops.

Scraptrap’s coming as well, but I’ll post it separately tomorrow. (The color palette looks too cool to pass up, but I gotta sleep soon)

[leilakisakabiri]

Jealousy, Jealousy (Gavi)

Summary: You realize that Gavi never gets jealous when other guys are around you and it makes you question if he still likes you. 

Warning(s): None

A/N: Hey! I had some inspiration to write so here I am! I’m trying to release shorter fics while I work on my longer ones. Requests are open!

Word Count: 2.5k+

Masterlist

The first time it happened, you felt relieved that Gavi had decided not to make a scene and instead chose to calmly defuse the situation.

The two of you had been at a club late one night, the high from Barcelona winning hours before pumping through your veins. He had his arms wrapped around you as you both danced to whatever Spanish song the DJ was mixing.

You laughed as he spun you around before pulling you closer, leaning down to whisper in your ear as he moved a strand of hair out of your face. 

"I'm going to grab another drink. Want to come?"

His breath was hot against your ear, and even though it felt like a million degrees in the club, and you were sweating through your dress, you still shivered, his voice sending shockwaves through your system no matter how many times you heard it.

You looked up, locking eyes, "I'm good, I'll save our spot."

He kissed the top of your head before letting go, "Ok I'll be back in a second. Try and find the others if you can."

You gave him an awkward thumbs up as he walked away and he chuckled before disappearing into the crowd.

The two of you had been dating for just shy of three weeks.

You had been friends for months before dating, with you initially being introduced to him through his hometown friends. Then there was a three-month period where you both liked each other but were too scared to admit it and ruin the friendship. Finally, Gavi caved after spending two weeks away from you without contact while he playing in the U.S.

Since he admitted his feelings for you that night on the steps of your shitty college house, he had jumped straight into the relationship, inviting you to his games, to hang out with his friends, and private dinners. You on the other hand still felt like an awkward pre-teen girl every time you were with him, he just made you feel giddy inside, and you reacted to things he said so intensely that the only way to cover it up was with strange humor and stupid jokes.

That led you to now. Sometimes being around him was so overwhelming because you were always scared you would say something to embarrass yourself, and although he never made you feel any less worthy you couldn't help but feel like he could be with someone much better than you.

As you stood there contemplating, you felt a body collide with yours, effectively pulling you out of your thoughts.

You stumbled, feeling hands come up to grip your elbows, stabilizing you.

"Shit- my bad."

You looked up seeing the guy holding you sporting a white button-down and an apologetic smile.

"Sorry, those guys just pushed me. Some friends." He said referring to the group of five or so extremely drunk boys behind you.

You shook your head, "No worries, I wasn't paying attention either."

He smiled, leaning a bit closer, hands still on your elbows, "Hey do I know you? You look really familiar.”

You squinted your eyes as you gazed at him, trying to figure out if you knew him.

"Eh I go to Universitat de Barcelona if that helps."

His eyes lit up at your words, and he nodded, "Yeah, that's totally how I know you. I think you're in my biology class."

You groaned, "No way the one at 8 a.m.?", he nodded, "I'm barely awake for that lecture." you muttered.

"Mean either but it's hard not to notice you."

You only heard half his sentence and looked at him confused, "Sorry what?"

His lips tugged up in a smile as he bent down, shifting closer to you, "I said it's hard not to notice you."

You felt your breath stop as you realized what you had gotten yourself into. You made a move to shy away when you heard Gavi call your name.

You lifted your head seeing him approaching as he carried your drink, "Hey who's this?"

You went to interject and tell him it was no one but the guy next to you interrupted, "Hey man, I got to school with her.”

Gavi nodded, accepting his answer as he handed you your drink, "Oh class friend?"

You went to speak but were again cut off by the guy next to you, who had still to let go of your elbow.

"Something like that."

You saw Gavi's posture slightly straighten at his words but he relaxed a second later, "Alright."

The guy turned to you saying something about seeing you in class and then proceeded to give you a hug, his arms wrapping around your lower back.

You noticed Gavi watching the exchange but he made no comment.

You approached him timidly, unsure of if he was going to say anything about the situation, but he paid it no mind, going back to casual conversation with you.

At the time you let out a breath, thankful that he seemed intent on letting you handle your own situation.

That thankfulness soon turned to annoyance and then confusion when similar situations happened time and time again and he made no effort to speak up.

You supposed it was good he never got jealous because you knew it could get very overbearing very fast, and yet, you couldn't help the twinge of defeat you felt every time someone tried to make a move on you and he did nothing to stop them or even show a ounce of emotion.

Slowly it was making you start to question your relationship with Gavi.

Why did he not get jealous? Was it because he didn't see others as a threat? Or didn't feel the need to because you weren't as pretty as the other girls he was seen with? Maybe he simply didn't care? Or perhaps he wasn't the type?

You knew the last one couldn't possibly be true because he was absolutely the type. His entire career was based on his passion, determination, and aggression to get where he wanted. His aggression is what made him so competitive and a loyal player. So if he was so driven and passionate on the field, why was that not carrying over into your relationship?

It wasn't until almost two months later that things came to a boiling point.

It was the last game of the pre-season for Barcelona and spirits were high, everyone hoping they could seal off a great season, and enter a new one, with a win.

The stadium was filled to the brim with fans and reporters. The family section was also full with player's partners and families coming to support them in the final game of the summer.

You were sitting next to Anna, the two of you talking about school, work, and life.

Eventually, the game started and you went into full-on fan mode - cheering along when Barca made impressive plays and booing when they were tackled.

The stadium was abuzz with energy, and you basked in everyone's excitement.

You gripped Anna's hand as you saw Gavi running up the sidelines towards the other team's defense, Joao running parallel to him.

You saw him sidestep, dodging the defender, and suddenly the ball was soaring, perfectly landing at Joao's feet as he placed it into the back of the net.

The two of you jumped up, cheering along with the rest of the crowd. It seemed like Barcelona would have its victory after all.

After the game, you stayed in the family section for a while chatting with Pedri's parents as you waited for the players to make a re-emerge.

You bid goodbye to them when you got a text from Gavi telling you to come down.

You made your way down to the field, waiting behind the barricades for him to appear.

The other team's players appeared first, signing fans t-shirts and taking photos.

"Need something signed?"

You saw a player from the other team approach you, waving a sharpie in his hand.

You pointed at your jersey playfully, "No thanks. I'm a Barca girl if you couldn't tell."

He grinned, "Ahh c'mon what will it take for me to convince you?"

You shrugged your shoulders, "Ride or die sorry."

He clutched his hand to his heart in mock offense, "Ouch. I'm hurt, but I'm not giving up."

You gave him a smile, remaining polite, as you looked over his shoulder for Gavi.

"Oh I know!" he exclaimed, directing your attention back to him.

He wiggled his eyebrows before taking off his shirt, "Here, new jersey for you."

He held it out to you, and you gave him an unimpressed look.

He rolled his eyes playfully, "Alright fine. I'll sign it, but only cause you asked so nicely."

You watched amused as he signed the jersey before offering it to you.

You squinted your eyes at him.

He dangled the jersey in his hands, "C'mon take it. You know a lot of people would pay good money for this."

You reached out to grab it, "Fine, but only because I'm going to sell it later."

He held up his hands in surrender, "It's yours now. Do whatever."

You thought the conversation would end there but he made no effort to leave, "Who are you here with anyway? Someone in Barca?"

You opened your mouth to respond but were cut off.

"Me."

You whipped your head to see that Gavi had silently approached the two of you.

Besides yourself, you felt a tiny part of you waiting with bated breath for him to do something, to finally dig his boots in the ground and say something, but he remained impassive.

"Hey."

"Hey, you ready to go?" Gavi asked.

You nodded your head, unsure of how to leave the situation.

"I can lift you over the barricade if you need." The other player spoke up, and your eyes immediately flitted over to Gavi's to gauge his reaction.

His eyebrows furrowed but he didn't say anything.

You debated for a second, just to get Gavi to react, but quickly decided against it, opting to just walk around the barricade.

You approached the two of them quickly and with a hasty goodbye followed Gavi as he left the pitch. You heard the other player shout a 'see you around', and you waved in response.

You broke the silence first as you walked the empty tunnel, "Great game baby. You did amazing."

"Thanks."

His reply was clipped.

He went to hold your hand and you shifted the jersey last second to your other hand, catching his attention.

"What's that?"

"Oh, that guy gave me his jersey. I'm going to sell it." You explained, telling him how you were expecting to make hundreds.

He listened along till you finished.

"Can I see the jersey?"

You nodded handing it to him.

You swung your joint hands as you walked, talking to him about the game as he examined the jersey.

Abruptly he dropped your hand, mouth set in a firm line.

Your eyebrows stitched together, "What's wrong?"

He cleared his throat before handing you the jersey.

"I think there's something for you on it."

"I forgot something in the locker room, I'll be right back." He continued.

You looked down confused, eyes scanning the text before it clicked.

The jersey had the player's phone number on it.

You lifted your head seeing him already walking away, "Gavi wait. Can you stop for a minute?"

He turned around but continued moving, "Yeah what?"

"Stop moving!” You exclaimed, your frustration building as he continued to not express any interest in the situation.

He finally halted and you closed the distance between the two of you.

"Is there something wrong with me? Do you not like me anymore or something?"

He seemed taken aback by your words and several emotions flitted across his face, "What are you talking about?"

You took a breath, it was now or never.

"I'm not trying to sound conceited, but I'm pretty sure that guy was hitting on me-"

"He was." Gavi confirmed.

You continued, "So then why don't you care? I'm your girlfriend, so why aren't you getting jealous when other guys hit on me?"

"You want me to get jealous?" He asked incredulously.

"I mean I don't want you to become super overprotective or anything, but it would be nice if you at least acknowledged when someone is trying to get with me right in front of you. I know I would get jealous if someone was saying that to you."

"You don't think I get jealous?" His voice had a hard edge to it, and suddenly you felt like you might have read between the lines wrong.

You shrugged your shoulders, unsure, "I mean you don't show it."

"Of course I'm going to notice when some guy is eye fucking my girl one foot away from me, I'm not fucking blind."

"Then why don't you say anything?" You pressed.

“Shit y/n that's cause I don't want to scare you away!"

His admission only confused you further, and you lowered your voice acutely aware that your shouts were probably carrying far in the quiet tunnel,

"Scare me away? Why would that scare me?"

He shook his head, "The press is always making me out to be this bad guy. This kid that doesn't know how to get his temper in check and - mierda y/n - I don't want to get into this right now."

You relented, unwilling to give in, biting the bullet, "Alright so next time someone asks to lift me up, their just being friendly right? Trying to be helpful?"

His eyes blazed, "That's not what I meant and you know it."

You lifted your hands in frustration, "No Gavi actually I don't know that. You act like you don't even care."

"I care! Trust me y/n I care!" He argued.

"Then show me."

His lips were on yours before you had even finished processing what you were saying. His skin felt hot against yours as his fingers sank into your hipbone, crowding you against the wall.

You lost your train of thought as you got lost in the sensation he provided you. One hand went to tangle in his hair, as the other draped around his neck bringing him impossibly closer.

One of his hands slipped under your shirt, as he kissed you senseless. You finally pulled away for a breath but he didn't stop, moving to lay a trail of kisses from the sweet spot behind your ear, down your neck, and onto your collarbone.

You left out a soft moan underneath him, the feeling causing tingles in your spine, and a fluttery feeling in your stomach.

"We should really sto- fuck gavi - so-someone could walk in any moment." You reminded him.

"Just gotta leave a mark." He replied.

You nodded before his words caught up to you and you pushed him off, "What? No marks! I have to meet your parents tonight." You whined.

He grinned, not looking the least bit apologetic, "At least people will know you're mine now."

[harryschicagooutfit]

Confessions

Word count: 1.7k

A/N: Hi y’all. First off, thank you for all the love on my first post. 100+ notes, my heart is bursting. Will be working on a part 2 because someone requested. I love writing for Rafe, but he’s kind of draining so I’m gonna take a break from that for a second. Anyways, this is FLUFF the house down. I’m in a lovey dovey mood right now sorry not sorry. JJ Maybank, please fall in love with me. K thanks enjoy.

y/f/I means your first initial btw hehe

Boyfriend!JJ x fem!reader

Y/N’s POV:

I sit on my bed, laying on my stomach as I bathe in the sunshine that’s graciously shining through my curtains. I flip through the pages of some summer reading book before I hear a knock at the front door.

“I got it!” I yell, not even sure who is home or who would be knocking on my door. I’m hoping its JJ.

I trot down the stairs, letting myself grab onto the railing so I’m careful not to slip and fall. I can see his truck parked on the street outside my house and I feel my heart skip a beat. I walk a little faster, practically running to the door to swing it open. It reveals a familiar handsome blonde with a shit eating grin plastered on his face.

“Well, hello there.” I say with a bit of tease in my voice, bowing to him. “To what do I owe the pleasure.”

“Oh, you know, just in the neighborhood, wanted to stop by.” JJ replies. I quirk an eyebrow at him, knowing that’s a lie.

“Why on earth would you be in kooklandia? For fun?” I say, referring to the fact that we were on figure 8, where I live with my mom. He sighs with a light laugh.

“Ok maybe I lied. I have something for you. Wanna let me in? Its boiling out here.” He tells me. I grab his hand and pull him inside, closing the door behind him. I pull him into a hug, I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him close to me. Subconsciously, I breathe him in. JJ always smells like one of three things. Weed, grass, or cologne. Today, it’s a mixture of all three.

“Are you smelling me?” He questions, his chest rumbling against mine as he laughs at me.

“Maybe…” I admit, pulling back to look him in the eye.

“Weirdo.” He teases me, pinching my sides softly causing me to yelp a little. I slap his chest, my jaw dropping.

“Don’t be mean J! A girl can’t love the smell of her boyfriend?” I defend myself, scrunching my nose in aggravation.

“I’m just teasing darling. I love your smell too.” He relents, pecking my lips once, then another for good measure.

We stand there swaying for a moment before he lets his arms fall from my waist which cause me to pout unwillingly. He laughs at my need for constant physical connection and grabs my hand.

“C’mon. Told you I’ve got something for you.” He repeats, leading my upstairs and into my bedroom.

“Hope this is going where I think it’s going.” I half joke, smirking to myself as JJ turns around to catch me.

“Keep your dick in your pants, Y/N. I’m trying to be romantic. Now c’mere.” He laughs at my sexual eagerness.

I follow his order and sit criss cross adjacent from him on my freshly made bed, the same sunlight shining, now over his tan skin and blonde hair. I smile as I admire the pretty boy I have on my bed. How did I get so lucky?

“So……….” I drag on, waiting for him to begin. I can tell he was a little nervous.

“So. The other day, well, every day, I was doing some thinking.” He starts.

“That’s never good.” I joke. “Kidding.”

“Ha-ha. Very funny. Hush. It was good thinking.” He rolls his eyes at me, and I lean in to peck him before he starts again.

“I can’t get you out of my head. Like, for real, Y/N. You’re the first thing I think of in the morning and the last thing on my mind before bed. You make me feel things that no one ever has before. The butterflies in my stomach haven’t stopped flapping their stupid little wings since the day we met.” He takes a moment to pause while I giggle at his silly analogy.

“And that right there. That laugh, God, I wish I could record it and put it on a record player. Everything about you to me is seriously perfect. You are by the sweetest, most caring, lovable, bad ass, strong and dependable person I have ever met. Not to mention, you are too beautiful for words. I am left speechless when I look at you, for real.” He confesses. I can feel tears start to prick the corners of my eyes and he grabs one of my hands, kissing my knuckles to comfort me.

“I can go on, and honestly probably will. As we’ve gotten older, I’ve been able to sort out how I feel about you. I’m finally old enough to understand. I’ve got this love for you that I can’t control and definitely can’t keep to myself.” He explains. My heart skipped a beat at the L word. We hadn’t said it yet.

“I am so in love with you.” The words roll off both our tongues at the same time, like a perfectly coordinated confession. It felt right.

His smile grew wider than it already was, and he accidentally collided our foreheads as we both went into kiss. A wince left my mouth as he held his forehead, and then bursts of laughter erupted from both of us.

“We can’t even get our cheesy love confessions right, god damn it.” I joke.

He laughs, grabbing my face and kissing both my cheeks before landing a few on my lips, which are smushed together by his fingers that are sprawled across my face. He lets go and reaches into his back pocket, revealing a small black drawstring bag. My lips curl into a smile as he places the bag in my hands, motioning for me to open it. I pull the hole open, seeing a little gold flash at the bottom of the bag. I fish it out with my fingers, pulling it out and up to my face to analyze it. My jaw drops once I notice the details of the ring. It’s gold, perfectly my size, and it’s got a little tiny ‘J’ engraved to the front of it. With my jaw still practically on the floor, I look up to lock eyes with JJ again.

“Oh my god.” I exclaim. He takes the ring from me, grabbing my hand and sliding it on my ring finger for me. I watch carefully as his hands play with mine for a second before speaking up again.

“It fits perfectly, J.”

“Yeah. You like it?” He says, getting a little shy. He always gets nervous giving gifts because he doesn’t ever think they’ll be enough for me. I tell him all the time that I love his shells that he collects me because he thinks their “pretty like me” or a bandana he bought because he claims it brings out the color of my eyes. I have always been more about sentimental value than gaudy expensive gifts.

“It’s perfect. You. You are perfect.” I say, a little under my breath because I’m slightly blown away that he nailed a present like this. I lunge forward to tackle him in a hug, knocking us over on the bed with me on top of him. I begin to kiss all around his face, causing him to smile my favorite smile. I kiss both of his dimples before pulling away to admire his face for a second.

“And look.” He says, taking one of his hands from my back and holding it up to his face, showing me the matching ring, he got himself. It sits thick and proud on his pointer finger. His is silver, like most of his jewelry and there is an even bigger Y/F/I engraved right on the top of it. I let out a shy gasp, smiling at the gesture.

“We are just too cute. Now everyone will know!” I say with excitement. “I would hope they already know, the way we cling to each other in public it’d be dumb not to assume. You’re my girl, yanno. I want people to know.” He tells me, scanning my face as he pushes my hair out of my face.

“I love you, J.” I admit, for the second time today.

“I love you. That feels so good to say.” He lets out a sigh.

“Almost wanna shout it from the rooftops.” I joke.

He looks around the room, thinking something before swinging his legs off the bed and getting up, walking over the window in my room, leaning to open it.

“Dear Figure 8, I fucking LOVE Y/N Y/L/N.” He yells at the top of his lungs, earning some looks from old people walking their dogs.

I giggle, following him to the window and matching his energy.

“Hey! Everybody! I AM IN LOVE WITH JJ MAYBANK. I wanna have his kids!!!” I yell, almost louder, with a smile.

“No one cares!” An old grump man tries to yell back before starting to cough from the strain on his voice. His wife scowls at him and smiles up at my window, putting her hand to her heart, as if to tell us she’s proud.

“That’s what he gets for trying to hate on our love.” I tease, walking back to the edge of the bed.

“Wanna have my kids, huh?” JJ asks with a smirk, approaching me and letting his hands find my waist.

“Well duh. I wanna do it all with you, J. Let’s do it all. Marriage, honeymoon in Greece, travel the world, smoke every strain of weed and have crazy sex. That’s the goal.” I ramble, smiling as I think about all the future things we will be getting ourselves into.

“You, my love, were made for me. Let’s do it. Start with crazy sex though?” He jokes, kissing me and backing me up till I fall on the bed.

“Hmmm who can’t keep their dick in their pants now.” I tease, back calling to earlier.

He laughs and shuts up. His nose rubs against mine and he lets his eyelashes brush underneath my eyes.

“I love you.” He admits one last time.

God it feels good to be his.

[apocalypticgargoyle]

could i pls get a part 2 of elevator with dream🥺 the way that they show their vulnerable sides to each other is adorable <3

yes! of course! i still kept this pretty fluffy but in another request, someone asked for smut so it's a little spicy.

𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑. ♘ 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

pairing: dream x reader (dre™ my beloved)

warnings: light smut (i didn't completely write it out I'm sorry), a virgin reader, language, fwb kinda, mentions of sexual content

previous part: elevator

After nearly two hours, the elevator began to buzz with life, hoisting up to the floor where Clay and Sapnap lived. The two of you had bonded in the dim, red elevator, coming out of the cramped room as friends when you had previously just been an odd mix of acquaintance and mutual. Sapnap stood in the threshold, an apologetic look on his face as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

You and Clay became nearly inseparable. You found yourself showing up at his apartment for him just as much as for Sapnap. There were even times when you’d text Sapnap to see if he was busy when your roommate would be trying to shove you out the door and he’d send Clay over instead. His presence always made it awkward for your roommate’s boyfriend and while you hated to admit it, it was hilarious.

“So, you do what kind of farming?” Clay asked from his spot beside you, leaning on the counter with his eyes zoning out to watch your hands as you cooked.

Her boyfriend---who the two of you often referred to as Ricky Fitts behind his back---sighed. He had explained his profession to Clay numerous times, but the manner in which he did it was so pretentious that Clay was addicted to picking at him for it. “It’s botanical gardening. Not farming,” he groaned. “In simple man’s terms, I curate a garden for plant research and help to diversify the plant species in the area.”

Clay nodded. “And how many strains of marijuana do you have in the span of, say, a year.”

“I’m not going over this with you again,” he nipped, making Clay look down in mock defeat.

He sighed longingly before straightening up. “Okay, fine. So, hypothetically speaking, how many strains.”

Ricky stared at him blankly and you knew if you looked up, you’d break character. “Don’t the two of you have somewhere to be? Like a cave or something?”

Clay let out a short laugh. “I’m free all night actually,” he spoke, smirking slightly. “Did you wanna check out a cave with me, baby?” Clay asked him, fluttering his eyelashes.

The two of you often rode the bus together; Clay's height mimicking a skyscraper over you to grab at the bar or handle above you and kneeing you in the butt just because you were short enough that he could. That would usually end in you elbowing him in the gut. When you were coming back from class was when you were a bit quieter usually, nearly falling asleep as you stood by him and then fighting off a blush when he would wrap an arm around you just to keep you balanced upright. When he had first ridden the bus, you had completely forgotten what had told him in the elevator.

Your fingers tightened around the pole attaching the overhead bus shelf to the ground, attempting to steady yourself as you stared out the window adjacent to you. The bus screeched to a halt, jolting you forward slightly. The sea of new people obstructed your view, namely a tall figure as he sidestepped through the crowd of people. You furrowed your brows, brushing your hand against Clay’s arm to capture his attention.

He removed his headphones after pretending not to recognize you. He greeted you and grabbed onto the bar you had commandeered, leaning on the bus wall beside you. “Don’t you have a car?” You asked, reaching out to lightly pull on the lanyard sticking out of his pocket.

He smirked, brushing your hand off. “It’s dangerous down there, careful,” he jeered, making you roll your eyes at his lude joke. “Is there something wrong with supporting local businesses?”

Your brows knitted together in disbelief. “We’re on a city bus, Dream.” He shrugged. You bit your lip slightly, your mind breaking off into another explanation. “You wouldn’t be stalking me, would you?” You baited, a ghost of a blush settling over his cheeks.

He reached forward to cover your mouth. “You ask too many questions.”

He moved closer to let someone have the seat beside him, his hand settling to the space just above yours as your sides threatened to touch. You bit back the idea that Clay was following you around, finding a silent pleasure in that fact. He would probably never admit it fully.

He towered over you as the bus swayed, you having to lean back slightly in order to talk to him. “So, are you gonna walk me to class too then, simp?” You mocked, making him shake his head.

He narrowed his eyes at you. “I’m not a simp, thanks,” he answered with a tinge of sarcasm in his voice. “And maybe I will.”

You crossed your legs, knees popping as you bent out of your previous position on the kitchen floor with your back pressed against one of the sink’s cabinet doors. Clay was on his back, shoulders emerged in that same cupboard as he messed with the sink. You handed him a tool that he vaguely asked for, your eyes lingering on his old high school shirt celebrating some kind of sports achievement.

You chewed the inside of your cheek. “Dream?” You got his attention, delaying your question. He hummed in acknowledgment. “How many people have you slept with?”

He was quiet for a moment. “Let me think,” he murmured, making you snicker. “Three.”

“You had to think about that?” You joshed.

He chuckled at your words. “Well, I mean. No one’s asked me what my body count is since like… I don’t know honestly.” He peeked out at you momentarily. “Why? You looking to be number four?” He jeered, a smirk brushing across his lips as you rolled your eyes.

You huffed sarcastically. “Yeah, you wish,” you mumbled, fighting not to blush.

“Maybe I do,” he stated plainly.

You opened your mouth to retort, but Sapnap walked in, peering down at his phone with an unbending concentration. Clay sat up beside you, flashing you a look before Sapnap began to speak. “I have a date. I just wanted you guys to know,” he stated before grabbing his coat off of one of the hooks. He finally looked up from his phone, lazily point a finger at the pair of you. “Don’t hook up. It’ll make it awkward for me and I’m not ready to deal with you guys being together yet.”

Clay laughed and your ears warmed, rolling your eyes as he left the two of you with his words.

After an hour, Sapnap’s words were blown to the wind as Clay’s fingers carded through your hair, his lips pressed against yours in some kind of heated passion to prove himself to you; that he was worthy of being with you in such an intimate way.

You weren’t hesitant, to say the least, and had even initiated the manner as the sun had begun to set. You had been sitting beside each other, lazily discussing your sex lives and lack-there-of.

“So, these three… Do you still keep in touch?” You asked him, watching as his green eyes searched yours for the reason behind your questions. The deep orange rays of the sunset peeked through the blinds to reflect against his blond hair.

He shook his head. “They were all me being stupid, basically. I didn’t really like any of them,” he admitted, making your stomach turn. “What about you? What’s your number?”

You shrugged. “Zero,” you snorted.

He raised his eyebrows slightly. “Oh, that’s right. I knew that,” he recounted as if he were remembering what you’d told him when the two of you were trapped in the elevator. “Um… Why?”

You shrugged again. “I’ve never trusted anyone enough.” He barely bit his lip, nodding in understanding. You cleared your throat. “It’s not that it’s a big deal to me or anything, I just… I’d like to feel safe during it, at least,” you clarified.

“It’s okay if it’s a big deal,” he stated. “It was important to me too at one point. I just…” he sighed. “I don’t know. I guess I got caught up in the pressure of losing it.”

You nodded, letting a breath of silence pass between the two of you. “Would you want to…” You looked away from him, biting back a grin at how stupid you were about to sound. “Would you want to take my virginity?”

He nearly giggled. “You feel safe with me?”

You snorted. “Yeah. I mean, I like you,” you answered, biting back a laugh. The air between you was mellow and easy. You had thrown your awkwardness out the window after Sapnap had left. “I mean, you’re one of my best friends, you know. But it’s just an offer.”

He grinned, a dusting of red settling in his cheeks from the pride he was beaming at you. “No, I want to. I just… I want you to be sure.”

You chewed on your bottom lip. “Yeah, I’m sure. But if it’s too much pressure and everything, like I get it.”

He chuckled. “Quit. I’m honored honestly.”

You laughed. “Okay, then do it,” you stated.

And there the two of you were, Clay’s breath warm against your skin as he knotted his fingers with yours, moaning as you ground your hips against his. You could tell he was holding back for your sake, being as gentle as he could and trying not to crush you under his massive frame.

When you had pictured losing your virginity in the past, you’d always thought your body would be urging you to be thinking of something else, racing with pure terror as your partner got themselves off to get it over with. But Clay’s hands were careful, slowly introducing you to different sensations and testing the waters for you. Your mind was only focused on the fact that Clay smelled like lavender; the scent lingering on his clothes and in his hair.

You slipped your hands under the hem of his shirt, before pulling it over his head. You hadn’t seen him naked before, but heat flushed to your cheeks at the view of him, even if he had pressed you into another kiss as soon as he had discarded his shirt. As he pressed a leg between yours, you moaned, fingers traveling along the length of his spine. His taste of bitter coffee and mint was becoming your new obsession as his tongue pressed into your mouth, grinding his hips against yours.

He leaned off of you to remove your shirt, every instinct telling you to cover back up, but he brushed it off, pressing his lips to yours again as his thumb gently brushed against your side. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone you’re hot,” he joked, making you giggle as he lightened the mood.

“You’re so charming,” you mocked, running your fingers into his hair as his lips pressed against your neck lovingly.

He chuckled. “Only when you’re around,” he answered, making you laugh again.

The next morning, you sat beside Clay at the breakfast table, the two of you chatting about a movie you were planning on seeing later in the day. Sapnap strolled in, eyeing you carefully with his lips pursed. You both looked up at him as if to motion for him to spit out whatever was bothering him.

Sapnap took to the chair on the other side of Clay after pouring himself a cup of coffee. “Okay, so am I supposed to pretend I didn’t see you sneaking out of Dream’s room this morning?” He gestured between the two of you. “And now you’re wearing each other’s hoodies.” Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Clay look down with a small “what?” whispering from his lips quietly. “I mean come on, that one was mine at one point,” he continued, his comments mainly directed at you.

You scoffed. “Am I supposed to pretend you didn’t come back until an hour ago and I know you don’t carry condoms?” You countered.

Clay let out a soft gasp. “Sapnap… safe sex.” At this point he was just the Sophoclean chorus; the peanut gallery.

Sapnap sent you a sarcastic grin, disregarding your statement. “Am I supposed to pretend like I didn’t tell you guys not to hook up and you did?” Clay sipped his drink at this. “I mean, look at you two!” He swatted his finger to point at where the two of your hands were joined together.

In reality, you weren’t even sure when Clay had grabbed your hand or even that you here holding onto him as well. “Am I supposed to pretend like you didn’t do that on purpose so we didn’t bother you for a few hours?” You shot back.

Sapnap’s mouth dramatically tilted, brows raised in shock. “A Few. Hours?”

You covered your mouth as Clay laughed beside you.

Tag List: (follow this link to be added :))

@karlkitten @pluto-dizzz @more-like-reyna

[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.”

[writefightandflightclub]

hey love! hope you’re having a good day so far 💕 for the hc requests, what about javi with pets? dog, cat, whatever you wanna do ✨

Thank you so much for this ask! This turned into a more of a mini fic rather than hcs, so I hope it’s okay for you! 😁 I had so much fun imagining Javi with a cat! Hope you’re having a great day too! 🧡😊

Warnings: It’s mainly fluff / light angst. GN “reader” is mentioned, but their relationship with Javi is left undefined (i.e. written so that it could be interpreted as platonic as this wasn’t a x reader request, but could alternatively be read as romantic / sexual relationship); language; smoking; one crude “pussy” joke; non-explicit canon-typical references to sex work. GIF by @muvana and @zeldasayer

This cat is DEA (mini fic: Javier Peña)

Javi is alone in his apartment the first time he hears it. The cotton soft paw tapping at his window, just audible over the drum of the rain. He’s not sure why he draws his pistol as he tracks from his couch towards the sound - he’s confident Escobar’s men wouldn’t be quite so subtle.

That’s when he first sees it, after a moment of searching. A cat as elusive and grey as a shadow - aside from a pink little nose, and eyes as round and bright as flaming yellow suns.

Javi still can’t help but regard the animal with suspicion - as if they may be a narco or a communist, somehow. In fact, Javi is moments away from shooing the creature when he notes her rain-bedraggled fur. So, he pauses by the crack in the propped open window, the cat nuzzling her head against the frame, the gap slightly too tight to squeeze through.

“This is no place for a street cat,” Javi warns, in his deep, oaky timbre, and yet when he hears her pathetic little mew in response to the promise of his warmth, his heart melts. He unconsciously reaches out with his forefinger, and when she rubs her wet little nose against him through the crack, he already knows he’s going to cave.

“Alright then, little thing,” he purrs, before chuckling to himself in response to the crude joke forming in his head as he reaches for the latch. “Where’d you hear this is the place to be for the finest pussy in Medellin, huh? Have you been talking to Vanessa?”

As soon as there is space to squeeze through, the cat is inside, hopping elegantly down onto Javi’s hardwood floor with a thud of her paws, instantly beginning to preen and groom herself, purring like a motor.

Javi simply looks down at the cat for a moment, raising his arm to scratch his head and emitting a gentle grunt. Okay. What now?

Succumbing to those big round eyes, he crouches down and extends his hand towards the animal. Yet, for all the cat’s eagerness to be admitted, she initially pushes her ears back and recoils away with a half-hearted hiss.

“Easy girl,” he soothes, coaxing her to him, and as soon as his warm, firm hand makes contact the cat collapses onto her back, purring heavily and showing her belly. Another chuckle. “You just rolled on Escobar too easy, narco. He’s gonna be pissed.”

His eyes crease at the cat’s display, all too eager for affection, and the cat earns Javier’s only smile of the day. Without him noticing, he forgets for a moment. Forgets it all. All of the shit.

Perhaps it’s the unfamiliar peace in his heart, therefore, which compels him to say: “Okay. Well, if you’re going to stay the night, we’ve got to set some ground rules, alright?” The cat purrs more deeply as he lifts her and bundles her into his chest. Then, he carries her to the kitchen to seek out some suitable food. “Number one. No drugs in the house.”

***

Javi was so hospitable that the cat keeps coming. It isn’t every night, of course. Javi isn’t always home, or- quite often when he is, he isn’t home alone, and is therefore far too preoccupied to hear the signal- that cotton-soft paw tippy tapping at his window. But, when he is in a position to hear it - home and alone - that is precisely when he needs to see that little face most.

It is a comfort, that a being might choose to return to him when he’s usually the one leaving. Or the one paying for the company. And, even if he doesn’t realise it, Javi does what he does best. He gets attached.

More than that, Javi feels a muted pang of joy whenever the ball of fluff curls up on his lap, or whenever she follows him around his apartment inquisitively to see what he’s up to (or as he refers to it, acting as “back-up”). The first time he gets those little wet kitty kisses on his hawkish nose, he lets out a surprised laugh - one almost strangled with joy.

It isn’t long then, before he is taking her to get her jabs. Before he is buying her a collar - as if Javi could really have a being that belongs with him after all.

“What’s her name?” the vet asks, and Javi looks down, a resounding nothing on the tip of his tongue. He sees her fur, grey as a shadow. Her eyes as fierce and yellow as the lit end of a cigarette. The answer seems obvious, and he replies with a soft smile. “Smokes. Her name is Smokes.”

That day, Javi brings her home and pops Smokes softly on the couch. Then, he brings a cigarette to his lips, lighting it up as she waves a paw towards him. “You’re DEA now, kid.” he says with certainty. So. That’s it then. If anything ever happens to this cat -Javi’s cat- there will be hell to pay.

Soon after, in the days that follow, Smokes comes and goes as she pleases, and the arrangement suits both Javi and the feline just fine.

One evening, though, Javi is tetchy, even pacing the floor, and polishing off a whole packet of cigarettes. He could do with a little company after a tough day, but his little friend is nowhere to be seen. Smokes hasn’t returned to him in a while -a few days- and he won’t admit he is more than a little worried. So, he opts, against his better judgement, to knock on your door - the apartment opposite him. It’s not unusual for him to turn up at your door looking for smokes of one variety or another, he supposes, even if he does try to avoid it. Tries to avoid getting attached.

Javi’s mouth falls open in silent surprise as you open the door with a perturbed expression, and a bundle of grey fur in your arms. Well, well, well. Smokes has been found out a traitor after all.

“What’s up, Javi?” you ask impatiently.

“Is this a bad time?”

You stomp your foot and smile knowingly. “Some asshole put a collar on my cat.”

He reads your expression, and knows you’ve already figured out the shared predicament. “Your cat?”

“Well, she came to my window.”

Javi scratches his head. “Mine too.”

You tut at the fickle little cat in mock annoyance. It seems this is one promiscuous street cat.

There is a beat as you and Javi exchange lopsided smiles, and the furball in your arms throws herself towards Javi. She is as tricky to hold on to as an undulating wave and so, with a sigh, you transfer the cat from your hands to his - as if you had a choice.

“What did you call her?” Javi asks.

“Hm,” you chuckle through a knowing, closed-lipped smile. “I called her Javiera.”

Javi looks at you for a moment, his eyes narrowing, but all his sharp angles gone as he cradles the floofy smol bean in his arms. Even his voice comes out soft. “Why?”

You exhale a small breath, before cocking your head at him, evidently mulling over your words before you speak. Buying yourself some time, you step forward to give the cat a rub behind her ears. “Well. All that coming and going?” You look down at the sweet animal, your eyes glistening with thinly veiled sadness, your voice raw as it echoes into the bare hallway, even as you sport a determined smile. Then, you look up at him, a wistful expression there. “Reminded me of someone.”

A swallow dips down his long, corded neck, and something vaguely resembling guilt glints in his deep dark eyes. There is more beneath your words, he realises; unspoken but ever so thinly veiled. A commentary on the fact you could never get him to stay, perhaps, even if you did offer him warmth and contentment and everything worth staying for.

Javi feels like a stray cat sometimes. Like he may never find a home. Not really. And so, at the implication of your words, his eyes glisten with a subtle, thickly-veiled sadness now too. As though, if you believe that too - that he can never settle- it must be true.

However, his fears are assuaged when you reach up, and bravely cup his face in your palm. It is a gesture which feels at once familiar and alien to him. In fact, he almost recoils back as if afraid of the affection; that is, until your warm, firm hand settles at his cheek. After that, he wouldn’t dream of pulling away.

Your eyes tell him not to worry as your words tumble forth. Your fond tone reassures him it’s okay. “I just mean...” -you search for the right words- “...this agent has too much love to go around.”

A swallow trails down Javi’s long, corded neck as he labours to keep his expression neutral, and yet, the man appreciates your words more than you can know. Especially when your love is something he gravitates to and strays from in a near constant cycle. He’s happy to know that when he turns up at your door, you accept him for who he is. Someone who can’t settle.

Still, instead of processsing, or digging deeper into these revelations, Javi focusses on another detail. Deflecting. “You called her an agent?”

You smile, your expression imbued with mischief. “It says it plainly on her collar, Javi. This cat is DEA.”

Javi smiles at you in return, a free and throaty laugh as you lean up against the frame of your door. Then, you gesture towards the interior of your apartment, inviting him in. You’re already moving and he’s already following before you’re even through with your question, as if you’re a familiar habit: “Wanna come in for a smoke?”

Javi follows you. Sure, he knocked at your door, but he may as well be tapping at the walls of your heart and asking for admittance. And, even if he never stays for long, he knows you will always invite him in. You can’t help it. Your heart is as open to him as it is to this little grey cat. In return, he can’t promise to stay, but he can promise to keep coming back.

So, Javi follows, although he doesn’t realise you’ve both got it wrong. If he is to liken himself to animal, it should not be a stray cat, perhaps. It should be a dog. After all, Javi is tenacious, loyal, and he has so much love to go around. So, as he follows you into your apartment he does what he does best. He gets attached.

You curl up with Smokes together on the couch, watching TV, and he is grateful. In this simplicity he feels a rare kind of peace in his heart, amidst all the complexity of this war.

Smokes purrs.

[asthmark]

❝ stuck ❞ l.dh

request → “Hi~ I'm absolutely in love with your work. It makes me so soft uwu. I was wondering if you could write a Haechan one similar to the roommate Jeno one you wrote. About what it's like to just live with him” —@demiwizardstay​

pairing → demon!haechan, reader, guardianangel!mark

word count → 4.5k

a/n → whoops i made this into a demon!haechan au hahaha sorry i hope this is domestic enough for u tho :D

your eyes must be playing tricks on you.

there’s no other reasonable explanation. 

on the other hand, the shadow splayed out ever so comfortably on your couch seems to be very real. it must be just as aware of your presence as you are of its but to your surprise, it isn’t telling you to put your hands where it can see them or demanding to know where all your most valuable items are. it sits there, peacefully as if it owns the place. for a split second you consider the possibility that you walked into the wrong apartment but the key in your hand reminds you that the situation you are in is not your fault in any way. 

“so... are you gonna scream or just stand there?”

the figure’s voice is unmistakably masculine and drips with sass. you know you should feel scared. your heart should be pounding as your shaky fingers dial 911 and you hysterically report an intruder to the authorities and beg them to come fast. however, it seems that this stranger’s calm aura has rubbed off on you as you respond with an equally as unbothered tone.

“well, i would appreciate it if you invited me in.” you pause. “oh wait, it’s my apartment.”

with that, you step inside and go about your regular routine with a calmness you didn’t know you possessed; especially when there was an… unwelcome visitor lounging on your sofa. despite that, you kick off your shoes and toss your jacket somewhere on the floor like you normally would. you twirl your keys around your fingers as you go to turn to flick on the light switch. it rids you of the darkness that had settled upon your apartment and the stranger is completely revealed to you.

the first thing you notice about them is their sun kissed skin that’s littered in the freckles you would compare to the most captivating constellation. although, the stranger’s flawless complexion is the least of your worries considering the two horns that peek out from underneath their tufts of brunette hair. 

you physically restrain yourself from asking for his skin routine and instead opt for yet another sarcastic comment. “all ready for halloween, i see.” your eyes lock onto the appendages, choosing to ignore how realistic they were. “was party city having a sale?”

your comment seems to get your uninvited guest out of his daze as he scoffs. “are you kidding?”

“hey, this is my place, i ask the questions,” you scold.

he ignores you, instead going to tug on his horns. “these are all real, baby.”

you force yourself to maintain eye contact with him, waiting for him burst into laughter and tell you it was all a prank. instead, his unfaltering smug gaze pierces into you. you swear you stop breathing when his eyes flash bright red for a second.

“alright, you can tell the camera crew to come on out.” you glance around hoping this really was just some sort of hidden camera–practical joke type of thing. you half expect ashton kutcher jump out and tell you that you had gotten punk'd but you’re never granted that privilege. your eyes end up back on the boy lounging on your sofa and he returns the stare, eyes narrowed and mouth curved into a smirk.

it was almost… devilish. 

“oh my god.”

“not quite.” he finally stands, stretching his limbs out without a care in the world. “wanna try again?”

you stay silent, mouth slightly agape. there was only one other explanation. 

he’s satan. and he’s also in your living room. and the worst part was how undeniably hot he is.

you regret giving him the satisfaction of your stunned silence as it seems like that was the exact reaction he wanted. he laughs at your expression and it just sounds evil. 

“alright, alright. i’ll tell you what i am. but only because you mortals are always so cute when you’re scared.”

“i’m not scared, you idiot,” you interject without a second thought. “i just didn’t know i’d be selling my soul today. it’s a total bummer. i’m so young, i still have so much to do. i never even got around to trying yoga with ryujin!”

the boy’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “your soul? did i say i wanted your soul?”

“well, you’re like, satan right? isn’t that what you do?”

he rolls his eyes. “i’m obviously a demon. satan is a loser who never leaves his fiery throne. which, by the way, isn’t as cool as it sounds. we’re not on the best terms at the moment.”

“so... you don’t want my soul?”

he shakes his head vigorously, looking disgusted at the mere idea of it. “what would i even do with it?”

“i don’t know. honestly i’m just going off of what i see in the movies.”

“that was your first mistake, baby.” he makes his way closer to you. “this isn’t the movies.”

“okay, back it up,” you say, attempting to put some distance between you and him.

he raises his hands in defeat as he obeys, retreating back to your couch. 

“why are you here of all places? shouldn’t you be sipping on a piña colada with satan right now?”

he crosses his legs nonchalantly. “like i said, we aren’t on speaking terms. in fact, i’m kind of… banned.”

“banned?” you echo. “from where?”

“hell? duh.” 

you scowl at his attitude. “it’s not my fault you’re on timeout.”

he pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “don’t call it that. it’s just a punishment.”

“same thing,” you say, making your way into the kitchen. you weren’t sure if leaving a demon unattended in your living room was the best idea but the initial shock had already worn off. besides, it seemed like he had been in your apartment for a while already. “what did you do anyway?”

“it’s not even that bad,” he grumbles.

“must have been if you got kicked out of hell.” you chuckle to yourself as you open up your pantry, looking for something to stuff your face with. “do you understand how bad you must be if even the devil himself can’t stand you?” 

“i’m not bad, per se,” he says, picking at his nails. “just a little annoying.”

“no kidding,” you grumble to yourself, rummaging through your pantry, in pursuit of your favorite snack. you were sure everything would make more sense once you got some food in your system. when all you find is an empty, crumpled bag where your chips had once been, you whine loudly. “did you eat all my hot cheetos?”

“they reminded me of home!”

“i can see why they kicked you out,” you retort. 

“listen, i get that this is an inconvenience—”

“that’s kind of an understatement.”

“but, this is the only place i can stay. turns out people freak out when you appear in their living rooms. you were the only one that didn’t.”

“yeah, people usually don’t take too kindly to that—hold on, did you say stay?”

he crosses his arms over his chest. “where else am i supposed to go?”

“anywhere but here.”

he gives you an unamused stare, his eyes glinting red once again. 

“i mean, don’t you have any demon friends you can stay with?”

“not here. we avoid earth at all costs. it’s trashy. that’s why this is a punishment.” 

not even you can argue with that. “understandable. well, how long are you gonna be here?” 

“don’t know.” 

you blink at him. “so… you’re planning to crash with me until satan decides to be your friend again?” 

he groans. “first of all, he’s never been my friend. second of all, yes, that was the plan i had in mind when i broke into your house.” 

“broke in?” 

“well, actually i used teleportation powered by the dark arts to get in but i don’t think your tiny human brain is ready for that conversation.” 

“and i don’t think it’d be in your best interest to insult the person you’re currently trying to move in with.” 

that seems to shut him up, as he purses his lips together and stares at you blankly. 

“listen, if we’re going to do this, there’s gotta be some ground rules, okay?” 

he stays silent so you decide to continue. 

“you have to pull your own weight around here. you might be some powerful being of the underworld but that doesn’t mean you get out of laundry day and doing dishes, got it?” 

he seems displeased, if the frustrated huff of air he lets out is anything to go by. 

“and you have to promise me that by staying here you aren’t putting me in any kind of danger.” 

“well, i can’t guarantee i won’t cause problems,” he says, raking his fingers through the hair in between his sharpened horns. “but i can protect you from whatever crap comes our way.” 

you contemplate it. you weren’t entirely sure what a demon like him was capable of but it seemed like it would be a list that was equally lengthy as it was impressive. yet, you still can’t bring yourself to agree to anything. 

as if he senses your apprehensive nature, he grabs your chin, forcing you to look into his hazelnut eyes. you only get to admire the warm tint for a split second before his eyes flash red yet again. they stay glowing longer than any of the previous times; long enough for you to notice how shiny and bright they are, reminding you of ripe cherries. 

“i promise.” 

the tone of his voice is surprisingly firm and definitely the most serious you’ve heard him the entire night. he retreats his hand from you and you find yourself leaning forward, almost craving his touch. his eyes go back to their original hue and you feel yourself regain your senses. 

“what did you just do?” you ask, leaning back from him. “what kind of dark magic was that?”

he tries to conceal his smile but ultimately fails, his pearly whites coming onto display. “that wasn’t magic, baby. i believe you just got lost in my eyes but don’t worry. i would too.” 

you let out a bitter laugh. “oh my god, you’re vain.” 

“do you mortals have to mention him every five seconds?” he chides, grimacing. 

it takes you a moment to realize who he’s referring to but when you do, you erupt in laughter. “really? that gets to you? you’re pretty sensitive for a big and bad demon.” 

“i have a name, baby.” 

“so do i.” 

his lips curve into a coy smile. “donghyuck.” 

you give him your name in response, not even bothering to think about it twice, much to your surprise. most would probably be more hesitant to introduce themself to a demon, much less invite them into their home. 

yet here you were, doing both. 

he offers you nothing more than a grin—it seemed more genuine than the last—before turning on his heel to make his way farther into your apartment. “so, where will i be sleeping? i was thinking your bed would be ideal.”

“well, i was thinking you could start with a thank you,” you suggest, trailing after him. 

he saunters down the hallway, twisting the knob of the door second to the left and peeking in. you can only imagine how much snooping around he had done before you had arrived, judging by the fact that he maneuvered your home so expertly. 

he hums as he scans the room as if it’s the first time (which you’re sure it’s not). “it looks comfortable enough for the two of us.” 

you can tell there’s no arguing with him, especially as he steps inside and sits himself on the edge of your bed, hands running over the soft fabric of your comforter. he bounces up and down a couple times, seeming satisfied enough with the mattress. 

in the blink of an eye, he’s underneath the heaps of blankets, tucked in snuggly. 

you exhale, trying to maintain patience. “i can tell this whole dark magic thing is going to be a problem for me.”

even though only his eyes peek out from beneath the polyester sheets, you’re positive he’s wearing an obnoxious smirk. his voice comes out slightly muffled when he answers, “think of it as a blessing, not a curse.”

“we’ll see.” you try to suppress a yawn but it manages to escape you, eyes squinting and your hand clamping over your mouth. “right now, i gotta sleep. hopefully i’ll wake up tomorrow and realize this was all a dream.”

“so, what you’re implying is that i’m a dream?”

“i meant to say nightmare.”

“that’s more accurate.”

as if the dazed tone of his voice didn’t give his sleepiness away, donghyuck’s drowsy eyes and horns sinking into the soft plush of your pillow certainly did. he looked the least threatening right then and there and you decide that this is the donghyuck you like best. you can’t help the sudden urge you feel to curl up in bed right next to him and doze off into blissful unconsciousness. 

“what are you waiting for? get in here.”

could demons read minds too? you can’t be bothered to think about it for another second before you take donghyuck’s very tempting offer and crawl into your bed. you don’t care that you’re not in your pajamas or that you smell like coffee beans, courtesy of the cafe you worked at.

all you can seem to focus on is the feeling of donghyuck’s soft breath against your neck and his oddly cute snores. it was ironic; a demon all cuddled up beside you, sleeping like a baby. you almost giggle at the striking comparison. 

needless to say, you fall asleep with a smile on your face.

+

“you know, it really pisses me off to come home and see you sitting in the exact same position you were in when i left.”

donghyuck rolls his eyes, an expression he’s mastered over time. “what else am i supposed to do? you made it pretty clear that you hate my demonic rituals and that’s kind of my speciality.”

you shrug as you kick your shoes off upon entering your shared apartment. “i don’t know. but binging the entire marvel movie saga can’t possibly be healthy.”

“we don’t have this in hell!” donghyuck exclaims, gesturing to the television his eyes remained glued on. 

“well, you should get used to life on earth considering you don’t know how long you’re gonna be stuck here.”

“i’m already on it. pop culture is actually really informative.”

“not what i meant. i was thinking more along the lines of a job.”

donghyuck finally tears his eyes away from the television to give you an unamused stare. “that’s really funny, y/n.”

“i’m serious! would it kill you to get off the sofa?”

“no. nothing would. i’m immortal, remember?”

you narrow your eyes. “oh yeah, almost forgot. you’re gonna be a bother to me forever and ever.”

“this isn’t the ideal situation for me either. but no need to torture me with low life mortal tasks.”

“bills gotta be paid, it’s a part of life,” you respond, taking a seat beside him. “or else we’ll both be breaking into people’s houses and begging them to move in.”

“i didn’t beg, alright? and i didn’t break in either! i simply...  appeared.”

“that’s even worse.”

“you didn’t seem to mind when you were all snuggled into me this morning.”

donghyuck’s words paired with his taunting tone cause you to feel slightly warm but you ignore it for the sake of a comeback. “you seemed comfortable yourself because when my alarm for work went off your arm was pretty tight around me.”

you swear you see him pout for a moment. “that’s not my fault! there aren’t many people open to cuddling in hell! i was just… seizing the opportunity.”

“since you’re all about opportunities, you should really look into that job. remember what we agreed on? no slacking off.”

“i’m not! just look in the kitchen!”

you know whatever it is, you’re not prepared for it. nevertheless, you tiptoe to said area, hoping your roommate had simply followed instructions and done the dishes and swept. but, of course, that itself is too much to ask as you watch the sink overflow with suds, plates and silverware scrubbing themselves clean and floating into their respective cupboards. a broom dances across the tiled floor, dust flying everywhere. you find that the mess in your kitchen resembles a train wreck; you want to look away but you just can’t. 

you call out to donghyuck, eyes still trained on the chaos before you, asking, “what did we say about rituals?”

“it’s a little more complicated than a ritual, baby!”

once you finally gather enough willpower to walk away from the kitchen and whatever is happening in it, you return to the living room, placing yourself in front of the television that donghyuck is so entranced in. 

“you’re coming with me to work tomorrow, got it?”

donghyuck groans for a second before rolling his eyes dramatically hard. “fine. now, can you move? the avengers are about to fight thanos.”

you comply, retreating to your bedroom but not before shouting back, “iron man dies!”

you shut your door, donghyuck’s frustrated screeching still coming through loud and clear.

+

your phone alerts you that it’s 6 am by playing an alarm so loud donghyuck falls out of bed. comically enough, it’s the loud thump! that comes when donghyuck makes contact with the floor that really gets your eyes to flutter open. you peek over the edge of the bed, every bit of grogginess leaving your body the second you see your roommate tangled in your sheets, limbs sprawled on the ground. 

“are you okay?” you ask, laughter lacing your words.

“doing just fine,” he mumbles in response. soon thereafter, his eyes shut once again.

“hey! no way are you going back to sleep, we have work!” 

you drag yourself out of bed over to where donghyuck lays, attempting to resume his peaceful slumber. you grab his arms, attempting to hoist him up. you’re almost positive he’s making it more difficult than it should be as he lets his body go completely limp in your grasp. when you finally get him standing upright, he smiles lazily at you, obviously still half asleep. 

“c’mon dork, you need to get ready. you’re gonna make some cash today!”

+

donghyuck makes it clear he understands nothing as the morning progresses.

he doesn’t get the importance of being on time or even working in the first place. he offers to just take out your landlord, which according to him will “solve all your problems”, more times than you count and you’re sure that if he mentions it one more time you’d actually consider it. he also claims he doesn’t understand the concept of a shower, asking you to help him out, yet the knowing smile on his face lets you know he’s more than well aware of what it entails. unfortunately, you realize this after spending more time than you’d care to admit explaining the concept of getting naked to him in a tight, confined space to him only for him to request a demonstration. 

upon leaving your apartment, more new things are revealed to donghyuck. you can’t help but admire the wonder and awe in his eyes. the adoration quickly wears off when he throws a temper tantrum at the subway station, refusing to board it and you have to physically force him on and promise that no, he won’t get trapped inside.

despite the slight bumps in the road, you arrive at your shift with time to spare. the clock tells you that you won’t have to be behind the counter for another five minutes so you grab your apron and provide donghyuck with one too. you give him quite possibly the quickest tour of the cafe ever and explain to him over five times what you were there to do (“so, we just take people’s orders? we serve them?” “and they pay for it.” “just when i thought it couldn’t possibly get dumber”). you end putting him on cleaning duty since you were well aware of his lack of social skills. he frowns when you tell him he has to do it himself, no magic allowed. the last thing you needed was someone getting nearly knocked over by a levitating broom and bringing it to your manager’s attention. speaking of—

“good morning, y/n,” greets doyoung. his hair is slicked back and his eyes shine, as always. “always a pleasure to see you on your shift.”

donghyuck watches you cautiously, observing the way you smile nervously and avoid meeting doyoung’s eyes. he assumes he has some kind of authority over you. 

“and hello there. who might you be?”

doyoung is now very aware of donghyuck’s presence, giving him a wide smile but a menacing stare. you don’t get a word out before donghyuck’s giving him a polite smile and nod of his head.

“i was just hired, y/n is showing me the ins and outs. i honestly could not be happier working under leaders like you, sir.”

doyoung hums, obviously enjoying donghyuck’s praise enough to let it blind him from the fact that you hadn’t even been hiring in the first place. “sir, huh? haven’t heard that one before.” 

donghyuck holds his breath, wondering if he had overdone it.

“i like it. you seem like a hard working fellow. glad to have you on the team.” your boss gives him a firm pat on the back before walking away, probably to go scare some other employees. 

donghyuck sticks his tongue out at him once his back is turned and you simply laugh, smile still present on your face when your first customer arrives.

+

“i’m here!”

you glance up from the cash register to catch your coworker rushing in, looking frazzled… as always.

“hey mark,” you greet, giving him a welcoming smile. “i’m so glad you’re here. there’s been this crazy demand for frappuccinos all day and you know i suck at those.”

mark chuckles as he ties on his apron. “no offense, but the only order you should be taking are the puppuccinos.”

you shoot him the most non-threatening glare possible which ends up with you bursting into a fit of laughter. “i’m not even gonna argue with that.”

“hypothetically, if i made doyoung’s coffee explode on him but made sure he didn’t know, would you be mad?”

you roll your eyes at donghyuck’s bold entrance yet you still giggle. “at this point, i say go for it. ooh, maybe we could even sneak out while he’s cleaning it up. what do you say, mark?”

where there would usually be a giddy laugh, there’s nothing but silence on your coworkers behalf. you put a pause on counting the money in the register to steal a glance at mark who’s eyes are dead set on donghyuck who also seems to be intensely focused on the blonde. 

“demon,” mark mutters.

you feel yourself freeze up; how could he possibly know? despite the panic that settles upon you, you’re sure donghyuck will find a way to handle the situation. you expect a lie, maybe even some magic if the situation called for it. when you see his lips curve upwards sinisterly, you know you’re in for an entirely different outcome.

“angel.” there’s a teasing lilt in donghyuck’s voice; it sends chills up your spine.

mark’s jaw is clenched and you know he’s equally as tense as you are. “we should go, y/n.”

“mark, he’s just—”

“now.”

the sudden desperation yet dominance in mark’s tone is even more alarming than donghyuck’s. 

“you know,” donghyuck begins, rounding the counter, dramatically. “i’ve never been a fan of the way guardian angels think they own their person.”

you swear your brain shuts down. there was no way you had come into contact with a demon and now an angel—your guardian angel. and there was definitely no way it was your closest coworker, right?

“it’s our responsibility—she is my responsibility.”

donghyuck folds his arms as he gives mark a once over. “you won’t mind if i take over, right?”

mark chuckles, begrudgingly. “you know i can’t let that happen.”

“i’m not hurting her, i’d never hurt her.” donghyuck takes his place next to you, wrapping an arm around you. he peers down at you, eyes glowing red for the first time since your first encounter. “my angel.”

you know the nickname is to piss mark off and you assume it works as you observe his hands clench into fists. although, you’re more focused on how the pet name effortlessly rolled off donghyuck’s tongue, like temptation itself. 

“don’t make this difficult for yourself,” donghyuck continues. “you know feelings are dangerous. that’s what they tell you when you first sign up. just don’t let that get you into trouble, got it?”

the tension is suffocating and you almost wish a customer would enter the currently empty cafe to save you from it. although, donghyuck makes sure that you don’t have to endure it any longer as a second later, you’re both gone, only a cloud of red smoke left behind. 

mark stands alone in the cafe.

he had gotten this job for you; to look after you. 

perhaps he had caught feelings, as well.

he assumes that was his first mistake. 

+

when donghyuck takes you back to your apartment, it seems the awkward atmosphere from the cafe has followed you home.  

“uh, can i ask what that was all about?”

“that guy, mark was it? yeah, he’s your guardian angel. i can’t stand it when those guys act like they’re in charge of the person they’re sent to look after,” he seethes. 

you watch donghyuck’s fit of frustration carefully, eyes wide. when he sees how confused you are he can’t help but sigh. 

“i’m sorry, i just… didn’t appreciate him acting like you were his. guess i don’t really like the thought of that.”

you would have to be oblivious beyond compare to not realize donghyuck was completely and utterly jealous. you prod him further, asking, “well, then who would you rather i belong to?”

he glances up at you. “whoever you want, baby.”

“you know what? i think i have somebody in mind.”

not even a second later, donghyuck takes you back in the security of your bed, under your piles of fluffy blankets. what feels most comfortable (and strangely familiar) is the feeling of donghyuck’s arm clinging to you, making you sure you’re pressed right into his chest like a puzzle piece. 

“the person you had in mind was me, right? ’cause if not, this might be awkward.”

your eyes roll back despite knowing he can’t see it. “no, it was mark.”

“not funny.”

your shoulders shake with laughter. “it’s a little funny.”

“whatever, keep laughing. just let me hold you, alright?”

“that would be heaven.” silence settles upon the both of you as you go into nearly hysterical laughter. “get it? because you’re a demon… from hell… and that’s like, the opposite—”

“yeah, i get it, baby.” he pauses. “how many more lame jokes surrounding me being a demon will i have to endure?”

“i definitely have more where that came from so my guess is...  more than you can count.”

he moans in displeasure. “you’re lucky you’re cute… for a mortal.”

[akitokihojo]

Monster - Chapter 1

And, here we go. Chapter 1 of this monstrosity (no pun intended) is now up and running below, on AO3, and on FF.net.

I'm going to be completely and 100% honest with everyone before you start reading, so please heed this warning! This first chapter is rough in the sense where it contains a bit of brutality and the death of a child. So far, this is the only gruesome chapter, and while the gore is NOT detailed, I still want my more sensitive readers to be wary.

This is the most action-packed fic I've ever written, and also the most expansive world I've ever built (in my humble opinion). With that being said, while the setting is a bit more on the historical side, there are plenty of modern references. For instance, not in this chapter but in future ones, a bathroom is just a bathroom. I don't mention plumbing or the lack thereof. My attention and energy was on more important things and I just didn't care about those details, lol. Additionally, a lot of slang, jokes, and references are fairly modern. Don't @ me (but also do). All-in-all, what I'm trying to say is I built my own damn world where there is no historical accuracy, so don't go looking for it, lol.

Unless otherwise stated, I plan to post each new chapter every Friday. So, yeah... I think that's all I've got to say.... have fun! Enjoy! Thank you for reading! Ily! Bon Voyage! Don't hate me!

----------

The responsibility is ours.

Kagome gasped as her feet slid in the mud, the small decline of the path she and her younger brother hurried down gradually becoming more slippery as the rain began to pour harder. Through the noise of the droplets and the sloshing of their boots, she heard a slight commotion; horses’ huffs, heavy feet, and boisterous men barking orders. Initially, she’d figured it was the village men ushering their families indoors, their livestock into barns, their carts and tools under shelter, and their firewood into a dry place as the storm reared its ugly head. The sunset sky was shadowed in gloom, thunder making it’s entrance in the far distance as it was bound to be banging on their doors and windows in no time. But, at the tug of her arm by her sibling, her attention was shifted to the actual cause of it all: Naraku’s henchmen.

“Again?” She shuddered resentfully.

“Third time this month.” Sota confirmed, clenching his jaw as he slightly tugged his sister behind his smaller frame. He was perfectly aware that he was only twelve, well in the know that he stood no taller than her shoulders, but he’d be damned if he did nothing because of it.

This time, there wasn’t a hoard of them. No, there were merely four, all of which were already off of their horses on the main path through their little village, making demands and threatening anyone who got in the way of their objective.

Throughout the last four and a half years since Naraku rose as a fearsome demon that easily brought down peaceful powers and attempted to control the world Kagome knew, she’d become more than familiar with this procedure. It wasn’t until just recently that they’d started coming more often than a monthly visit, though. And, it was no secret what, or who, they were after.

Her.

Anyone of her kind, really.

She was different. She was hunted. Those like her were supposedly powerful, but matters being what they were had caused anyone who shared a similar fate to subdue their abilities to the point of total lack of recognition of their true potential. At least, that’s how it was in most cases. Because, if they were found out, they were killed on sight. The reason for it was entirely unknown. Naraku didn’t just target them, though; he made everyone’s lives hell, especially if they stood out in a supernatural manner. So, while she figured there had to be a yet-to-be-identified reason, she felt it was safe to assume it was also just because he could. Maybe he didn’t like the threat of other, similar forces that could collide against him. Maybe he was egotistical enough to think he was the only deserving being. Whatever the case, he was cruel.

Kagome’s kind had several names through the decades - so many, she hardly knew the correct term for herself. At one point, ages ago, they were called banshees. The title didn’t make sense whatsoever, given their powers and what a banshee actually was, and the story was so old that she didn’t know where the justification even stemmed from, but it caused them to be feared, and for that, she honestly wouldn’t have totally minded if the name stuck around. They were called priestesses, but then it sounded too peaceful, too practiced, and it painted them as “good.” They were called witches, mages, sorceresses, but they committed no typical magic of that sort. Kagome didn’t know a single spell, nor did she have nearly enough time in the day to pack an array of herbs, spices, and what have you into jars that were sealed with candle wax - though she had caught wind that there were some older women of her kind with the ability to curse. Now, they were called conjurers. Their abilities were that of the spirit, aiding with protection, purifying dark forces - passively or forcefully, bringing forth light, and more she was sure.

In Kagome’s unpopular opinion, given what they could do and what they supposedly stood for, priestess was more suitable a term, but she also understood that there was nothing holy about the world they lived in.

There was no birthmark of the conjurer. There was no dead giveaway of their kind. The powers were gifted at random, as far as she knew, not passed down through lineage. The only thing Naraku and his followers seemingly had to go off of was that conjurers were born female.

Sometimes, they’d conduct their mission by way of senseless inspections. They’d rip apart the insides of homes looking for all the wrong things in all the wrong places. Truthfully, with how absurd they carried themselves, it was obvious they didn’t know the telltale signs they were looking for and were wasting their time. Which was what made it clear that for them to be so clueless, even Naraku didn’t know all there was that made up a conjurer. They were ignorant and they were blind, but they were also relentless and ruthless.

The days where they singled women out were the worst. Kagome, so far, was spared that cruelty, but that didn’t make it any better. It was usually the more mature, the elderly, that received the short end of the stick.

More often than anything, they’d line up every woman and girl in town and go down the rows one-by-one, stimulating their nerves in one way or another to see if they could get a “conjurer’s reaction.” Kagome could only guess that meant a sudden surge of purification power. It was the main trait conjurers were known for; but they were going about it wrong. Screaming in their faces, threatening everyone, or jostling them around a bit wasn’t going to get the demons purified, no matter how much she wanted to toss something their way. Of course, she wasn’t going to be the one to tell them that.

Every so often, they’d come in a pack and create havoc with violence. They said it was their way to pressure people into giving up any information they might have, but in all honesty, the smiles some of the brute demons wore said they were bored and simply wanted a little entertainment. Apparently, screaming and pleading were equivalent to a musical number in their bloodlust eyes.

Their own little group of demon slayers that resided in the village helped prevent this from happening when they could, which was why the henchmen came in numbers. The demon slayers fought for a sense of control, not to kill. They would only allow so much, but belligerent violence was not an option. It was obvious that, as of late, their village was a targeted spot, one that got a little more attention than neighboring towns, and for what reason, no one knew. They didn’t have the fighting power to win that sort of fight, though, and the leader of the group of slayers was sensible enough to understand this and explain it to the masses that questioned them. They were made up of a handful of men with rigorous combat skills they didn’t learn from home, refused to take recruits below a certain age, and could only train so many at a time. As much as they’d all love to retaliate and end things for good, intuition was telling them not to in that manner. Even Kagome felt that. Deep in her gut, she knew that even if they could, killing them would only put the people of the village in a worse position. This wasn’t something that would stop by taking out the underlings. Not at all. Far from it. Anyone who was paying attention could see that they’d need to exterminate the head honcho in order for any positive difference to be made.

Unfortunately for them this time around, their little pack of demon slayers had left on a request to take care of a troublesome demon a little ways off just that morning. And, listening to the henchmen now, seeing them in their dark leather, their cloaks, feeling their dangerous energies wafting through the streets of their little town, Kagome could tell that they were going to do whatever they wanted tonight, despite the fact that it was just the four of them. It wouldn’t be horrible, and would most likely be a lineup, but they were definitely going to take their sweet time and see who they could break.

“There’s still time. They haven’t noticed you. We can hide you.” Her younger brother said, his tone more on the convicted side as opposed to suggestive. He should have known she wouldn’t have gone for it, though. So long as every other woman and girl had to stand in front of their villainous promises and vile breath, so long as her mother had to keep a straight face, Kagome would always stand there with them. She’d made a promise to her brother, her older cousin, and especially her mom that she’d never willingly out herself for no reason, but she just couldn’t bring herself to hide when everyone else had to stand through their harassment. She swore that if the demons were ever convinced an innocent was a conjurer, that was the reason to give herself over.

Never would Kagome allow another to mistakenly go down in her stead.

No one but her family knew of her powers, and until necessary, it would stay that way. According to her cousin, the more people that knew, the increased danger she was in.

“Let’s just get this over with.” She shook her head, minding her steps through the small slope of mud as she gently pulled her arm out of Sota’s grip.

“Miroku would say the same thing if he were with us.” He argued.

“Yeah, well he’s not. In fact, he’s probably getting himself into trouble by picking a fight with one of those goons.”

“Kagome, I have a bad feeling about this. Come on, just listen for once.”

“Okay,” She stopped, turning around to challenge his look. “Say something bad is going to happen. Knowing these assholes, you really think my absence will stop that?”

“No, but -“

“Right. They’re going to do something no matter what, correct?”

“Kagome -“

“And then what?”

“And then they’re wrong, but they didn’t get you.”

“How is that fair to the person they might hurt?”

“That person isn’t my sister.”

“What if it’s mom?”

Sota’s eyes slighted to the side, a heated huff leaving his lips just before he begrudgingly sealed them. His jaw clenched minutely as his head gave a little shake, brown eyes once more meeting his sibling’s. “Miroku and I will protect her.”

Kagome gave a fed up smile, sighing, rolling her eyes, and turning back on her heel to continue toward the main path. Families came out of their homes dressed in cloaks as they prepared to, once more, be harassed until Naraku’s men exhausted themselves, husbands and male relatives holding resentful expressions as they guarded their female family members until they couldn’t any longer.

“Kagome!”

“Sota, quit it. The louder you are, the more suspicious we become.” She quietly warned. Kagome heard her brother’s aggravated grumble before he jogged forward to catch up, his demeanor holding much like every other male in the village.

No one’s feet rushed toward the excitement. The tension of the town was up so dramatically that Kagome could physically feel the crushing weight of it all, the anxiety as they made their way closer to their disgusting visitors was causing her stomach to bubble and waver, and her throat constricted nervously as she and Sota finally met up with the crowd, her brown eyes scouring over shoulders to scout out her family. Sota’s hand encircled her wrist firmly, tugging her to the right as he found them and guided her over. Miroku stood tall in front of their mother, brows noticeably creased and indigo eyes straight ahead until he’d caught their movement in his peripheral vision. Immediately, his posture squared further, as if enlarging his shoulders so that he’d be able to successfully hide both Kagome and his aunt behind his frame. Her mother held out her hand for Kagome to take as soon as they were close enough, a peaceful smile unsurprisingly gracing her lips while she pulled her in, shoulder-to-shoulder. Somehow, no matter the circumstances, she always did her best to calm Kagome’s nerves with the simplest of sweet gestures. Sota took his spot before them, influenced by Miroku’s stature as he replicated it.

Allowing herself a brief moment, Kagome bowed her head further, bracing it on her older cousin’s shoulder. She shut her eyes, inhaling slowly, deeply, attempting to release her trepidation with a long and heated exhale before composing herself and straightening out.

“- But this is too much! Why the hell are you back again!? There’s no conjurer in our village! Don’t you fucking get that by now!?” A man shouted, livid, and it was evident she and her brother had missed the beginning of the argument playing out in the center of the uneven circle created by people.

“Get the fuck out of the way!” One of Naraku’s men yelled back.

“Not until you tell us why you’re back for the third time!”

“Would you rather we made ourselves at home!?” Silence from the opposing man answered his question clearly. “That’s what I fucking thought.” He spewed, and Kagome could hear the spittle fly out as he cursed. His attention returned to the general public, his tone shifting from vicious to gruff as he made his command. “Only girls ranging from ages five to twenty, line up! Now!”

Increased unsettlement coursed through the crowd, mothers and fathers clinging to their young daughters, little girls’ fearful whimpers polluting the air as they hid their faces in their parents’ legs, and even Kagome’s own mother’s hand tightened her grip as a breathy gasp left her lips - understanding that this meant her eighteen year old daughter was being sent into the fire without her. They were narrowing down, slimming the numbers, and the small smiles on the villains’ faces made Kagome assume that something last time may have tipped them off to lessen the demographic.

“What do I do?” Kagome whispered to her cousin, failing in her attempt to hide the sudden panic striking her.

“Nothing. You do nothing.” He urged quietly, shifting his head to look into his younger relative’s eyes. “Listen, Kagome, treat this like routine -“

“This isn’t routine.”

“Treat it like it is. Keep your head down.”

“If they -“

“No.”

“But, they’ll -“

“Kagome, no. You made us a promise.” Miroku reminded firmly, knowing exactly where her mind was traveling. In the case of an incident, which there seemed to be a higher chance of this time around, she may need to intercede.

She took a deep breath, straightening her face as much as possible so Naraku’s men wouldn’t grow suspicious as they impatiently yelled again for the girls to gather before them. “If this means they suspect something -“

“It may just be a tactic they’re using. For all we know, they have nothing and could leave here with the same. So, treat it like routine. Okay?”

“Promise.” Sota insisted during Kagome’s silence. The mens’ barking got louder, more demanding, as did the crying of little girls being pulled away from their parents. With the building weight in her chest, like a liquid filling her lungs quickly, the density making it almost impossible to take full breaths of air or move without falling forward, all she could muster was a meager nod before forcing herself to walk out. Miroku and Sota both leaned to opposite sides to part their shoulders for her to move through, her mother’s soft hand still lightly holding her own until she was far enough for their fingers to slide away from each other’s.

At most, there were about twenty girls in that age range to offer, and Kagome’s brown eyes drifted over the uneven row of heads as she approached, finding her friend in the mix trying to calm the little girl beside her. Sango glanced her way, as if feeling Kagome’s eyes on her, giving an apprehensive grin and waving her over.

“Ready?” Kagome asked, though it was completely rhetorical. It was just habit for these things. It was unavoidable, unexpected, and overall, impossible to be ready for. But, when they bounced the question off of each other, it was like one final reminder to stone.

Sango knew. Sango and her family were the one exception to the familial rule. She was Kagome’s closest friend and Miroku’s significant other. She was more than trustworthy. And, more importantly, had known since Kagome accidentally found out, herself, as a kid. Because, that’s how it was being a conjurer. You weren’t born knowing. You didn’t have an outward appearance that proclaimed your status much like demons did. It was always an accidental happenstance; in her case where she put a little too much oomph into her bow and arrow lessons and purified the evil - and life - right out of a passing crow demon after missing her target.

She remembered the feeling of total surprise, then tremendous fear because she thought she’d be in a lot of trouble. Kagome had literally thrown her bow to the ground like the thing, itself, was the culprit of the power. Miroku was gawking, Sango was covering her mouth with both hands, and their dad’s shared an identical, tight-lipped expression. Her papa was motionless for an overwhelmingly-tense sixty seconds before shifting his wide, curious eyes to her.

“Did you know you could do that?” He’d asked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, daddy.” Kagome innocently answered, but she could feel the red, hot heat in her face from her lie. She was awful at those when it came to the people she was close to. Still was to this day. Give her a stranger and she could keep it straight, but in the face of friends and family, she cracked almost too easily. It was a guilt thing.

But then he’d laughed, ruffling his little girl’s hair before reassuring her that it was okay. He said they’d just have to go about her training a little differently from that point on to make sure accidents like that didn’t keep happening, and it was only because of him, his adventurism, his accessibility to knowledge from his travels, that she even discovered what she was in the first place.

Back then, though it wasn’t quite as dangerous to exist as a conjurer, her papa had still suggested they keep her abilities under wraps. She distinctly remembered binding that with a pinky promise after Sango’s dad had a private discussion with her own. Maybe it was because Sango’s dad was even more educated with the world, and knew the potential hardships that could come her way, being the leader of the demon slayers that he was - and still is. Honestly, the reasoning was hard to determine now because she didn’t put much thought into it when she could and should have. Being the young, spunky, loyal girl that she was, if her dad wanted her to keep a secret and held out his pinky to her, that was all the reason Kagome needed, and nothing pleased her more than making her papa proud. And, when he and her uncle were fatally wounded in a demon attack on their village, even though Naraku’s name had never once yet been muttered near her ears, he still made her do one final pinky promise to him saying, “Protect yourself for me, my little bird. Keep it in its cage. I love you so much, Kagome.”

She wasn’t even a teenager when that had happened. There was a part of her that wondered here and there if he was secretly clairvoyant, or if he merely studied the patterns throughout history of people of her kind and wanted nothing more than to keep her safe and make her life as easy as possible, given the reputation they had, their ever-changing titles, and the ignorance others had of their nature. If only he knew where she was now. Would he still ask his little bird to stay in the cage while the door was wide open?

“Ready. You?” Sango returned, standing straight and allowing the little girl to cling to her leg.

“Ready.” Kagome breathed.

Those not lined up hesitantly backed away, creating space and growing agonizingly silent as they seemingly held their breaths for those that were chosen. Kagome hated when they did that. It was like she could physically feel the onlookers’ anxiety, and it was the last thing she needed on top of that of those actually subjected and her own.

The four men walked back and forth, up and down the two rows of girls, criminal eyes taunting them with silent threats and menacing grins. It was creepy, but no longer was it fear-inducing. Kagome had a bad habit of not shying away anymore. Sure, she was nervous beyond belief, but the last thing she was afraid of were their snarls, scarred and dirty flesh, and crooked teeth. That, of all things, was the least intimidating factor for those who were calloused to the routine.

But, when an abrupt instruction was given by the leader, her already-loose expectations of “routine” fell apart completely.

“Hold out your left hands, palms up!”

Confusion soared through every individual, and Kagome met Sango’s brief side glance, minutely comforted by the fact that she wasn’t the only one without a clue as to what was going on. Questions weren’t allowed though, and even the little ones were well aware of that, so as the small group of men demanded everyone shut up and do it, all outward bafflement dissipated.

Slowly, Kagome raised her left palm, her arm outstretched, swallowing as she willed the slight trembling to cease. Brown eyes searched quickly as she waited for whatever to begin, weeding through the crowd and finding Miroku already pinning her with a stare. It was wary, but hard, his jaw visibly tense.

The sound of an unsheathing blade was unmistakable, and immediately Kagome’s attention bounced to her left where the leader danced the grip of a knife in his fingers, his lips curved downward into a permanent frown. The first girl in line couldn’t have been any older than fifteen, noticeably shaking as her anxious stare bounced from the man to the blade.

A man in the crowd began shouting, stirring, pushing forward through the heap of villagers to reach the forefront, “Hey! No! What are you going to do!? That’s my daughter; what are you going to do!? Don’t you dare touch -“ Abruptly silenced by a defensive elbow to the diaphragm, gifted by an all-too-fast demon.

The young teenager shuddered, not sure what to worry about first as the leader gave her no moment to react, grabbed her hand, extended it further, and gave a small slice with the tip of his knife to the center of her palm. She winced, a whimper easily escaping her mouth from the sharp pain, tears leaking from her eyes quicker than the blood that seeped from her laceration. And then he grabbed her hand in his, sealing their palms together as he stared her in the eyes for a moment. She was utterly terrified, wanting to pull away while knowing she shouldn’t, but as nothing else happened, the man released her, murmuring to stay in line as he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, wiped his blade, his hand, then moved onto the next.

Kagome’s attention snapped back to Miroku as it dawned on her, his eyes holding the same idea as he gave a steady but stern shake of his head in retort. They were looking for the untrained conjurers. The conjurers who weren’t skilled in holding back. Everyone was already scared, and the wound inflicted a heightened sense of fight-or-flight. Then their hands gripping the victims’ - their demon hands against the victims’… they were working to spark a purification reaction, and they were going about it right this time. It wouldn’t be strong enough to kill them, nothing that small or unsuspecting would be, but it would hurt - much like the notorious fairytale of a vampire taking a quick step into the sunlight before swiftly turning around and heading back inside. And, that was all they needed.

Unbeknownst to everyone but Sango and Miroku, Kagome wasn’t completely helpless. Not only was she well-versed in subduing her powers, but alternatively speaking, she could knock a guy completely on his ass. She’d practiced. She’d practiced for hours at a time for several years now to see what she could do, what sort of strength she possessed, all on the far outskirts of the village, hiding near caves with only her friend and cousin who'd agreed, despite promises and secrets, that they all should try to be prepared for anything. By no means was she an expert, but she could handle her own for the most part and a situation like this was something she’d been well-conditioned for, for quite some time now.

Especially since she’d first received that message in a dream.

The responsibility is ours.

Whatever it meant, no matter how bleak it felt, it was a no-brainer that Kagome couldn’t go on without some sort of knowledge of her own potential.

She took a shallow breath, diverting her gaze to the goon before her as he happily took out his own blade, the other two following suit as they set out to narrow the time this was going to take. He stepped forward, grasping the wrist of the frightened and resistant girl beside Sango, who Sango had to hush into calming, telling her it would be done quickly. When nothing gratifying came from the occurrence, the man moved on to Sango, pinning her with a glare that she challenged right back. She hardly flinched at the slice of her skin, brown eyes never leaving the demonic ones of her assailant. When she shrugged a brow as he clasped their hands together, Kagome could practically see the heat rising in the man’s body language, quickly fuming from how audacious Sango was acting - which Kagome couldn’t help but respect, not knowing if the chuckle she forcefully swallowed was one of matched humor or nervousness.

The man threw Sango’s hand to the side, merely wiping her blood from his palm and blade on his pants before vehemently grabbing Kagome’s and extending her arm completely, bringing an inadvertent gasp to escape her throat. As the tip of his knife pierced her palm, dragging slowly to create a burning gash - one larger than Sango’s, so she suspected her nonchalant pass of amusement wasn’t as admissible as she’d thought - Kagome couldn’t stop the hiss that slid off her tongue, her brows creasing and jaw dropping as crimson dripped from her hand to the mud. With a clap, he pressed his palm to hers, fingers squeezing her small hand with unmitigated pressure. She felt a flurry in her abdomen, her diaphragm, her chest, warmth that drove her power, and that was her cue to hold her breath, to pretend everything was fine, to tell herself she was safe and trick her mind when she really wasn’t. She pretended she was holding Sota’s hand - the first person that came to mind, and the least intimidating one that she knew. Sota as an adult whose hand was finally bigger than hers. She couldn’t help but feel this was a huge insult to her younger brother, so she subconsciously apologized as she continued her visualization. It was like a lump built in her throat, the kind that grew too difficult to swallow, but she also felt completely in control, returning the man’s stare before he dropped her hand and moved onto the girl beside her.

“Shh,” Sango gently hushed the small child. “Everything’s fine now, but you have to stay quiet. Give me your hand.”

Kagome slowly let out her captive breath, the air she sucked in to replace it cold and not the least bit comforting despite the danger she’d evaded. She kept her palm face up but closer to her heart, cradling it for a moment as she tried to ignore the searing pain, diverting her attention to Sango and the kid. Her best friend was already looking up at her, using the long sleeve of her shirt to clean the blood from the girl’s hand and apply pressure so it’d stop bleeding, never minding the bleeding of her own palm. Thankfully, it only looked to be a little knick, and Kagome wondered if the creep of a demon that had handled them secretly had a soft spot for children.

“You okay?” Sango silently mouthed to Kagome. She nodded in reply, picking up the bottom hem of her own shirt and pressing it to her wound.

A sudden, deep, and broken yell punched through the air as one of the demons stumbled away, his hand yanked back, fingers furled in offense, and face twisted in rage. A little girl shrieked as he lunged forward, grabbing her by the collar of her cloak and pulling her out of the line, her feet stumbling to keep up as she cried apology after apology.

No. Conjurers weren’t common; now more than ever. How could there be two in one village? Especially one as small as theirs? How could there be more than one not even miles apart? How did Kagome not know? Didn’t conjurers have the ability to sense one another? She’d only assumed that was the case because of the seemingly-prophetic dreams she’d been having; because of the woman that had been coming to her in those very dreams. It was a weak hypothesis to go off of, but it was the only answer that made sense to Kagome. But, now there was a child being dragged into the center of where the town congregated, begging and pleading for her life while her mother screamed from the sidelines where she was being held at bay, and Kagome was none the wiser to her existence.

She wanted to yell that they were wrong, but how could they have been? It was a physical test. The accidental reaction of her powers was a dead giveaway. They couldn’t even lie their way out of this, or pretend the allegation was false. She was a conjurer. And they were about to kill her.

Kagome’s heart twisted and bunched painfully, that hard lump once more building in her throat, a murmured, “no,” barely leaving her parted lips, and her brown eyes caught a pleased grin on the approaching leader’s face that, just moments ago, seemed stuck in a scowl. He twirled his dagger in his fingers before kneeling down in front of the weeping girl.

“Found you.” He snickered, plunging the blade into her abdomen.

“No!” Kagome gasped, slapping her hands over her mouth in shock. The village was alight with terror, screams, cries, the rumble of defeat, the wailing of a grieving mother striking over all other sounds. Still, she was withheld from her little girl, reaching for her over the shoulder of the unforgiving demon who kept her away.

The knife was yanked free of the girl’s gut and she fell to her knees, her hands braced before her stomach as crimson crawled out, staining the front of her rain-soaked dress. Small hands weakly pressed into her abdomen, the wide look of horror, of pain, of fear etched into every inch of her expression as she gasped tremblingly. All too easily, the leader stood and walked away, not an ounce of remorse displayed.

“She was… she was just a kid.” A sympathetic village man stated morosely. “She wasn’t even ten yet.”

“She wasn’t dangerous!” Another testified.

“Would you like to be next?” A demon threatened, thinking his raised voice would retain order.

Kagome could hardly breathe, tears burning and brimming at her lower lid. All she could think to do was try to stop the bleeding, try to save the child, her feet moving on their own accord as she rushed out of line. Beyond the anger building in the crowd, the yelling growing louder, and the intense disturbance increasing rapidly and overwhelmingly, Kagome heard her name called multiple times. But, she couldn’t bring herself to listen, to stop, as she skidded to her knees in the mud, her arms catching the little girl as she fell forward. Her mother was finally freed, racing over and falling to the ground at her child’s side, helping through her weeping to lay her on her back.

“It’s okay, baby. Mommy’s here.” She soothed as best as she could, hovering over her daughter's face so the rain wouldn’t hit it, shaking fingers pushing sopping hair from her cheeks.

Kagome grabbed the length from the girl’s cloak that stuck out on her side, bunching it and pressing firmly into the wound. The choked gasp that came from the kid was agonizing, and Kagome apologized profusely, blinking away her own tears as she whipped her head around to take in the rousing group of people, fury evident in their tones, in their bodies, as they returned threats with the offending demons.

“Where’s the doctor!?” Kagome asked as loudly as she could, her soaked, dark hair whipping her in the face as she spun her head around to try and find their town's self-proclaimed physician. “Help! We need help!”

“He isn’t here; he left for herbs yesterday.” Sango informed as she dropped down beside Kagome.

“And he still isn’t back!?”

“The storm must have delayed him.” Sango shook her head in response, her brows creased together as she glanced over her shoulder to quickly mind the budding commotion before turning her worried expression back toward the crying child. “What can I do? How can I help?”

“I don’t - I don’t know.” Kagome stammered, her breathing growing heavier as she panicked, noticing the blood was barely halting, the stain in the girl’s dress expanding and absorbing through the cloth she pressed against the wound.

“Apply pressure!” Miroku instructed when he slid to his knees in the mud on their opposite side, careful of the girl’s mother.

“I am!” Kagome cried.

“Stay with me, baby! Stay with me! I’m right here, look at me!” The woman coo’d, sniffling and gasping with her tremors while the comforting smile never left her lips.

“Hey! Leave her! Let her die, or we’ll kill you too!” One of the vile men demanded, though his shouts went ignored, easily drowned out by the encroaching, enraged men who finally appeared fueled enough to physically challenge them. Kagome could only hope they’d hold the demons back so they’d have the chance to save her.

“Here, let me see!” Miroku pushed Kagome’s shaking hands away, pulling aside the cloth of the cloak to take a peek at the wound in her stomach. Kagome had to look away then, the sight of the thick blood seeping through too much to handle. Instead, she focused her attention on the little girl, crawling up to hold her cold, bleeding hand.

Scared, pained, blue eyes focused on Kagome as she took shuddering breaths, her chest convulsing slightly as her small voice broke with her cries. Little fingers softly gripped her hand in return, and the tiniest of smiles curved her lips upward, light beginning to dim from her irises.

“Miroku!” Kagome urged. She glanced back at him and noticed the hopeless expression on his face. One that claimed there was nothing anyone could do. Her heart dropped, a nauseating weight filling her stomach. Quickly, she turned back to the little girl, leaning an inch closer. “Kikyo and the other conjurers, they’re gonna win, okay? We’re gonna win. I promise.”

“Who’s…”

“You! What did you just say!?” Heavy steps sloshed in the mud toward them, his voice low, growling, dangerous.

Kagome had spoken up to be sure the girl had heard her over the yelling, but she hadn’t realized that it could have been heard by anyone else. She didn’t think about the ramifications. She didn’t think. She’d just wanted to fill the child with some form of final hope. What was wrong with that? Was it the fact that she’d said Naraku would fall?

She’d hardly had enough time to turn and react before she was grabbed by the hair and lifted to her feet, yelping as she was dragged back and away.

“You mentioned Kikyo!” He exclaimed, giving a forceful yank as Kagome loudly gasped from her constant stumbling, the pain on her scalp, the fear racing through her. In the thick of it, she’d forgotten Kikyo wasn’t a person who was widely known. She’d forgotten Kikyo was a secret beacon of hope to the surviving conjurers, who appeared in dreams and spoke in riddles.

“No!” Was all she could manage to reply, screamed brokenly, heard clearly throughout the number of villagers around as the action died down and all attention was on them.

“How do you know her!?”

She yelped again, forcefully pulled backward and released to only trip and fall over some tools.

“Tell me, wench!” He demanded, picking Kagome up by her throat and slamming her back against the wall of a home.

“I don’t!” She adamantly swore, still able to speak. His grip was there, but not choking.

“Liar!” He said, slapping her hard across the face. “How do you know Kikyo!?”

“I heard of her in passing!” Kagome cried, wincing from the sting before she was forced to look at him again.

“I find that hard to believe.” He growled, inching closer to her face. His hold on her throat tightened, cutting off air, thick fingers pinching painfully into the sides of her neck. “Where is she?”

“I - I don’t know.” She sputtered, wheezed, her tears hot as they glided down her face. The rain was nothing but a drizzle now, though the distant sound of thunder roared angrily. She was both cold and hot, her lungs begging for air as his hand pushed further against her windpipe.

“Stop it! Let her go!” Miroku barked, and his presence was just enough to distract Naraku’s henchman and cause him to release some tension from her throat. Kagome greedily sucked in as much air as she could, though he still constricted his fingers against her. It was like breathing through a straw.

Her cousin stood there, dark hair sticking to his temples, bloodied hands braced before him as if to reason. “She doesn’t know anything; she just told you!”

“Oh, another tough guy?” A demon behind him chuckled. “A little scrawny for that, don’t you think?”

“You have me wrong, I don’t want to fight. Release my cousin, and we’ll back away peacefully. She meant no harm.”

“The harm was done when she stepped out of place to save the girl!”

“She was a child!”

“She’s a conjurer! She has no place in this world!”

“She did! She did have a place in this world, and we all know it!”

“You best shut the fuck up, boy.” The leader said from the sidelines. “Word may carry that you’re on their side. Now, you wouldn’t want that. Would you?”

“Tell him to let go of her.” Miroku sternly ordered.

“Back off.”

“Let her go!”

“Suit yourself. Have some fun.” Their leader flicked a finger at the two other demons, allowing them to do as they pleased.

Miroku hissed a low, “Fuck,” before dodging a hit from one of the two demons enclosing in on him. He was able to throw one of his own, nailing an ugly bastard in the face before he was grabbed from behind, bulky arms wrapping under and over his shoulders to hold him in place. The other demon was eager while he arrogantly approached in front of him, smiling as he punched Miroku in the stomach.

“Stop! Miroku!” Kagome squirmed against her own offender’s grasp, her instincts beginning to kick in as she felt a wild sensation build in her veins. Something righteous whispered the power she held in her ear, told her to use her abilities to save her cousin, further fueling the heat that made her forget about the nip in the air.

“Kagome, don’t!” Miroku coughed, pinning her with his indigo gaze before his eyes pinched shut from a swift hit to his diaphragm, blood dribbling over his bottom lip and down his chin.

Control sucked Kagome back to the present, the earnest crackle of Miroku’s voice ringing in her ears and overpowering the one that told her to fight. The grip against her throat tightened again, closing off her air passage as red eyes turned back to her, the lines of his frown deep.

“Don’t, what?”

Kagome wasn’t sure if he actually expected an answer or not, but he’d made it physically impossible. She clawed her nails along the thick skin of his large hand, trying to pry him away so she could breathe. It was dire that she didn’t use her powers; she understood this. But, as the adrenaline raced violently through her body, it was growing increasingly harder to keep it subdued. She’d be killed in a heartbeat; she’d already witnessed their unforgiving lack of hesitation. Her mother and younger brother would have to watch. Her cousin, too. She’d promised everyone she would protect herself, and she'd promised herself that she would protect them. Above all that, a different, deeper, more rational voice spoke to her, drowning out the one that told her to take action just a moment ago, telling her that her fight was meant for somewhere else. Something bigger. She could practically feel the breath hitting her ear, urging her of the importance. It told her to swallow it, hold it at bay, keep it buried no matter how badly it burned for release at the underside of her flesh. Keep it in its cage.

Finally, the demon released his tight hold on her neck, opting to firmly grip the front of her shirt. His upper lip twitched in disdain while Kagome sputtered, and coughed, and gasped for air to fill her lungs.

“Don’t, what?” Naraku’s henchman repeated, this time a little lighter, and it was impossible to miss that he was visibly analyzing for any sort of body language that could tip him off.

“Fight.” Kagome attempted to say, though her voice came out incredibly raspy and broken.

“Like I’d be worried about what a girl as small as you could possibly do to me. Unless,” He cocked a brow. “I’d have a reason to worry. Unless, you’re a conjurer.”

She shook her head, scared to look away from him, hyperaware of any movement she made in that moment. She was absolutely terrified of letting him know she was lying, but what if her stiffness was what told him the truth? What if the vehemence behind her objection was exactly what he needed to convict her? Where was the happy medium? Was there one? Kagome’s bottom lip quivered, resisting the impulse to glance Miroku’s way when he continuously coughed, the sound slightly gurgled, scared the shift in her eyes would be mistaken for something else.

“How else would you know who Kikyo is?”

“I - I h-heard of her in p-passing.” Kagome said, still unable to use her voice, and she wondered if the strangulation was enough to damage her vocal cords or if her anxiety was the cause of it. “I-In a nearby town. By - by the r-river.”

The demon yanked her forward and slammed her back against the wall, the back of her head smacking the wood painfully. “Are you a fucking conjurer, wench!?”

“No!” Kagome wheezed, releasing her own hold on his fist to emphatically present the blunt cut on her palm to him before she repeatedly smacked it against his forearm, smearing hers and the little girl’s blood, showing him the exact reaction - or lack thereof - they were looking for in coming today in the first place.

“Let - let her go.” Miroku was on his knees, breathing impaired, holding his side with one hand while the other braced his weight in the mud. “She’s not a conjurer. She’s not. She can hardly even hunt. I have to take her everywhere. There’s no way anyone that knows her would believe she’s one of them.”

“Being a conjurer doesn’t have anything to do with hunting, boy!” One of them spit.

“Well, how the hell would anyone know!?” Sango shouted from the side, still seated on her knees beside the child. Her cheeks were flushed furiously, and her hands were held out inches from her chest, palms up, covered in blood that she was afraid would never wash off. Their attempts were in vain and the mother wept, clinging to her little girl, her face buried in her daughter’s still chest. “Conjurers are practically going extinct; you’re all winning! We don’t know what they can do! They probably don’t know what they can do! Conjurers either have to hide to save their lives, or they don’t even know they are one yet!”

For a brief second, Kagome allowed herself to glance beyond Sango’s head, finding her family. Her mother’s hands were cupped in front of her mouth, trembling as she never removed her eyes from her daughter. Her brow was creased deeply, concern etched so thick you’d think an artist may have been too heavy with their pen. Kagome couldn’t tell if her mom was breathing slowly, or if she was holding her breath. She couldn’t tell if her mom was saying a silent prayer, or if words could barely form in her mind as she had no choice but to watch the scene unfold. Her mother had to witness a daughter torn away from another; a daughter who held the same, supernatural fate as her own. Kagome could only imagine the stress that currently laced her mom’s system.

Before her stood both her brother and Sango’s, Sota bearing a wide expression, neck tense and lips parted uncertainly, and Kohaku wearing a more cautious grimace, watching apprehensively. Knowing her onlookers were nervous, worried, should have been the very thing to cause Kagome to proceed carefully, but instead it served as the switch that flicked on in her head. She was tired of living like this, done with the dreadful thought that this was their normal. This wasn’t going to continue.

She’d been waiting for a sign, waiting for her cue. Bags were packed and weapons were stored in a hiding place where they’d been training outside of the village. Miroku, Sango, and she had discussed a while ago that they were going to eventually leave together and find the called-upon conjurers, and join Kikyo to fight against Naraku. It was their - the conjurers’ - responsibility. As much as she wanted to know why, pleaded with the apparition of this seemingly all-powerful conjurer time and time again for an answer, at this point it was no longer deemed necessary. Not anymore. Kagome figured she’d hear this magical invitation telling her when and where - which was farfetched but a fair assumption given she barely had anything to go off of. She even thought she might have to wait a while longer until she was stronger, more trained in her capabilities, before Kikyo gave her some form of clear signal instead of these ominous, detail-lacking prophecies in her subconscience that she was currently getting every other night. But now a tick in her core, an itch in her chest, a steady deepening in her resolve told her the time was now. Screw waiting, screw messages, screw rolling over, screw self-pity, and screw Naraku. If he wanted a fight, if this was his initiation all along, his declaration of war, then he was finally going to get one.

“If that’s the case, bitch, then what were you telling the girl?” The demon holding her collar jerked her slightly to demand her attention, receiving it with vexation.

“I,” Kagome took as stable a breath as she could, her throat aching and voice pathetically weak, clearly evident now that it was due to the ruthless strangling she’d received. “I told her Kikyo would kill Naraku.”

“And, why the fuck would you say that?” He asked, almost surprised at her bold statement.

“I wanted her to go with hope, not fear.”

He guffawed, his chest pumping. “You don’t actually believe that!”

Without hesitation, as straight as she could manage while she halted his laughter, Kagome replied, “Yes. Yes, I do.”

His smile faded quickly, humor replaced with anger as his fists bunched tighter and he heatedly pulled Kagome away from the wall and threw her to the floor. Kagome landed on her front, quickly pressing herself to her hands and knees just before he pushed her belly down, her wrists sliding and giving out so the side of her face planted in the mud.

“Kagome -“ Her cousin called, stumblingly crawling her way before another demon kicked him in the side he’d been clutching, a tiny crunch being heard just as Miroku choked in pain.

“Miroku, stop! I’m fine!” She attempted to say clearly, a foot braced on her back.

“Enough.” The leader stated. “Everyone back in line. We haven’t finished yet.”

“Are you fucking kidding me!?” A man asked disbelievingly. “You don’t think you’ve done enough damage already!? Get the fuck out!”

“Yeah, get out of here!” Other villagers began to call out, joining in. “You aren’t welcome here! You’re only taking advantage because our demon slayers are gone!”

“You think that matters?” The leader chuckled. “Go ahead. Revolt. Fight back. Make us leave. See how quickly your entire village will be wasted the next time around. You see four of us and think you stand a chance. You see a large group of us and think you’re safe because you’ve got a little pack of demon slayers protecting you. Funny, that’s never stopped our inspections before, so I don’t see why you think that’d stop us now. Either way, not a single one of you would be left alive if we brought a fraction of the wild demons under Naraku’s control, and he wouldn’t bat an eye if we borrowed them to kill you all. In fact, that’s already in the plan if we don’t check in. You kill us all, congratulations, but you’ll be worse off. Compared to him, we’re the most compassionate monsters you’ll ever meet, and I suggest you learn to appreciate that. Now, get your girls back in line.”

“It’s okay, papa.” An older girl spoke. Kagome couldn’t see from where she lay, but she recognized the seventeen year-old’s voice. Ayumi. She was soft-spoken normally, but also fairly brave and kind. The only child of a widowed father, and a girl, like the rest of them, forced to grow up too soon.

Ayumi walked forward, having backed away from the rowdiness with the majority of the girls who hadn’t run back to the safety of their parents. Notching her chin upward, she raised her left palm, “Let them finish. They won’t seem so big forever.”

“Bold girl.” The demon complimented.

“Yeah. The more I find myself hoping the conjurers win, the bolder I feel.”

“Careful, now. You’ll wind up getting yourself killed.”

“Looks like being female might just get me killed, anyway. So, I might as well go down confident that Naraku is the true evil here, and evil never wins.”

“What a disgusting cliche.” He groaned. “Grow a brain and come up with something original before you spew that sort of shit. It’s embarrassing. Look, I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but as the chick over there stated, we already are. We’re winning. Now, I won’t argue that we’re the bad guys here, but at this point in time, that doesn’t really matter.”

Ayumi swallowed thickly, eyes faltering downward for the smallest moment before she rose them to meet the red eyes of Naraku’s henchman. As sickeningly as that notion sat in her esophagus, Ayumi felt it would be worse if she’d sunken her shoulders at the validity of their power. By no means was she strong, and by no means was she actually all that courageous. Ayumi, true to heart, was a daydreamer, was a fantasy-enthusiast, was a soft, sweet, and hopeful wisher, was tired, was passive. So, while she could admit her stare wasn’t striking, her irises would never be vivid with the passionate heroism she dreamed about, her lips would never curve with a compelling and threatening snarl, she could also admit that just the act of matching his gaze was all she needed to do to defy defeat. With chapped lips parting, not a waver traveling over her tongue, she spoke. “Yes, it does.”

“Yes, it does.” Another girl agreed, approaching to stand beside Ayumi.

“The world hasn’t always been this way. Naraku only grew large less than five years ago.” A woman said, a mother, holding her fearful daughter in her arms. Several more girls got back in line, their shoulders a little more broadened than before. “I find it appalling how arrogant you all have gotten in such a short time. I assure you, conjurer, demon, human, or anything in between, I’d give them my trust sooner than I’d yield to the idea of life staying like this. Good and evil, the difference will always matter. So, yes. Yes, it does.”

“Inspirational.” One of Naraku’s demons remarked sarcastically, cringing.

“Hey, whatever blows your skirt up, lady.” The leader shrugged. “You can believe whatever you want. No sweat off my back. Funny enough, I’d put down all the money in my pockets right now to bet not a single one of them would return that trust, nor would they risk their lives to save you. I mean, not to play devil’s advocate or anything, but look at the twisted circumstances. What the fuck have you done to help them? Human’s are selfish; only looking out for themselves. You hate us showing up because you don’t want us to hurt you. It doesn’t have a damn thing to do with us hunting down conjurers, and it doesn’t have a damn thing to do with that little girl on the ground over there. If it did, you would have never watched it happen. If it did and it was just the ‘shock factor’ holding you back, you still would have done a little more than yell at us about how unfair it was. Oh, cry me a fucking river.” He grinned, stepping over to the first girl in the newly-formed line. There were less than half left that hadn’t been tested, and he got straight to work, unforgivingly slashing at the pre-teen’s palm and slapping his own to hers as he continued his heartless speech. “Even better, there’s two of your own on the floor, both of them getting quite the beating, and not a single fucking one of you did a damn thing to help. I understand the lad; that’s his - er - sister? Cousin? And, I mean, at least the chick tried to help the conjurer survive. I’ll give them kudos, but I think I speak for all of us non-humans when I say fuck the rest of you egotistical pricks. Oh no, my child might have a scar on her hand. Oh no, more trauma.” The leader mocked, his tone high and whiney. “Yeah, well, at least they’re not dead in the mud like little Suzie over there.”

There was a collective gasp from the audience at the harsh and morbid insensitivity. Still, no one challenged him. Someone should have, and no one said a thing.

Kagome tasted bile on the back of her tongue from the disgusting sentiments plaguing the thick, electric air. How cruel. She wanted to open her mouth and beg him to stop and just finish his job already, force her broken voice out to demolish his train of thought and hope he doesn’t mention the death for the remainder of his stay. The only thing stopping her was Miroku’s steady stare on her. It held more power than an order from his mouth to stay quiet ever could. With a foot on her back as a warning for more damage, the impending threat that he would easily be hurt again, and the fact that she’d said enough as it was, no matter how bold she felt in the face of this evil, she knew she was meant to face the source. She could only do that alive. So, begrudgingly, she obliged to his logical demand.

If they wanted them to finish, they needed to stop fighting. They needed to shut up. A double-edged sword. Like bowing their heads to the abuse. Enabling it. Allowing it so it ends quicker.

Kagome could feel her palms burning in the mud, a sense of humiliating defeat flooding her chest, making her feel sick to her stomach. She kept her eyes on Miroku, he kept his eyes on her. She tried to raise the volume of her thoughts, no matter how negative they were, to tune out the gasps and muffled cries of the young girls as they received the cut to their palms for testing.

How could she hold any form of power, yet still feel so powerless? How could she have the privilege of a voice, but feel so irrevocably silenced? She wanted to believe she could save everyone there if she just untied the knots concealing her abilities, but it physically pained her to understand that it was the wrong thing to do. It would be counterintuitive. It would wind up getting them all killed later. She could fight, but she also couldn’t.

“And, there you have it.” The leader finished by wiping his knife clean and slipping it back into the little holster on his hip, the hint of pride and sarcasm on his tongue. “Thank you so much for your cooperation and understanding. We’ll be seeing you.”

The demon holding Kagome down applied a small kick of pressure as he lifted off of her, chuckling as his dirty boots stuck in the mud with each step away.

There was an eerie silence, one that grew more deafening as the henchmen took their horses and disappeared from the village. It was heavy, thick, like sludge. Weighted with failure and death. Even the cries from the mother were muted. For a moment, Kagome thought that instead of drowning out the pained noises with her own thoughts, her brain had responded late to her distress by completely disabling her sense of hearing instead. But, she could hear the stickiness of the mud as she peeled herself from the ground to sit on her knees. She could hear feet slowly walking - most likely children rejoining their families. She could hear the thunder threatening them of the next onslaught of rain to come. The silence that captivated them was one that couldn’t be lifted with a simple, “Thank god that’s over.” No one could make it dissipate by asking if everyone was okay. Because, it didn’t matter.

And, that was something everyone, even the young, could recognize.

The small talk that would eventually come when everyone was back in their homes, the whispers, the crying, and maybe even tiny chuckles from people trying to find the little joys to get them through this, they would all be irrelevant. Because, outside there would be a blanket of despair thicker than the friction-inducing clouds hanging over them at this very moment, and it promised them there that it would stick around as long as it needed to.

“Hey,” A soft voice spoke in Kagome’s ear, a gentle, cold hand brushing her arm, and it was only when she gasped and jerked upright that she realized she’d been hanging her head, sights stuck on her hands on her thighs. “Sh, sh. It’s just me.” Her mother reassured, kneeling beside her and using her sleeve to try and wipe her face clean of some clumpy mud. “Are you alright, honey?”

Out of sheer reaction, she gave a meager nod.

“Look at me, Kagome. Look at me. Tell me you’re okay.”

“I’m okay.” Kagome said as convincingly as possible. When Miroku groaned, catching her mother’s attention and even her own, she was happy to have the focus off of her. Kohaku and Sango were beside him, trying to sit him up, freezing as he struggled.

“Come on, boy. Let’s get you home.” A couple, larger village men came over, better suited to help. One of them firmly clasped his hand in Miroku’s, quickly pulling him up to his feet so the pain wouldn’t be dragged out. Her cousin hissed at the shock, clenching his throat to try and swallow his grumble, and the two men supported him by pulling his arms over their shoulders.

“Can you stand?” Kagome’s mother asked.

“Yeah.” She whispered, not wanting to irritate her throat further and finding no real need to speak up right now. “I’m fine, mama. Don’t worry about me. Miroku needs your attention more.”

“Even if that were true, he’s kind of surrounded. I don’t think I’m needed there, love.” She replied, grabbing her by her elbow to support her as they stood together. “Sota, take her other side, please. Just in case.”

“Wait.” A broken voice called to them, trembling but by no means weak.

They all stopped just two steps in, looking over to the mother on the ground. Her daughter’s body, from head to toe, was covered by a long cloak belonging to one of the villagers beside her now, attempting to give comfort.

“Kikyo? Is that what you’d said? Kikyo?” She asked Kagome.

As clearly as she could, with a little nod of her head as she processed the question, Kagome said, “Yes.”

“Who is that?”

Kagome could feel the tension in her brow falter as the sympathetic, concerned curve in them wilted away to change more into dubiousness. “You - you don’t…” She didn’t know who Kikyo was. Even her own mother knew who Kikyo was. Her mom was the first to hear about her dreams before she started discussing them with the rest of her family. Had her daughter not had the same messages coming to her? Or, was she so confused, so distraught from them all, that she chose secrecy over being seen as insane?

“She’s a conjurer.” Kagome answered.

“Is she - is she a strong conjurer?”

“I think so.”

“I’m sorry, did your daughter never mention anything about Kikyo?” Sango carefully asked.

“N-no. Why would she?”

“We were just under the impression that she may have been sending survivors telepathic signals of sorts.” She said.

“That’s preposterous.” A man scoffed.

“Maybe. We heard it in passing. From an old man, no less.” Miroku said, discomfort laced in his tone.

“What - what could she possibly have had to say to a little girl?” The mother asked, her bottom lip quivering while her hand rested on her daughter’s chest.

“I’m sorry. I wish I knew.” The words were painful to speak. Not from her throat, but from the fact that she had to lie to a woman who’d had her everything stolen from her. A woman who, more than anyone, deserved the truth.

When she’d said what she’d said about Kikyo before, the little girl had muttered something in return before the demon tore Kagome away. It seemed like she was about to ask who Kikyo was. Kagome was sure now that the kid didn’t know. She hadn’t had the dreams, the premonitions, the one-sided conversations, nothing. She hadn’t had any communication with Kikyo, whatsoever. Maybe Kikyo was kind to exclude the young, and only spoke to the older, potentially more conditioned conjurers.

Or, maybe there was a possibility that Kagome was the only one.

And, it terrified her.

“Will she win? Kikyo? Will she defeat Naraku?” The crying mother asked.

Kagome was finding it hard to reply, to communicate. Her throat was tightening up as she watched the woman’s body begin to crumble once more toward her little girl’s; like she needed to be connected with her to prevent her from going cold. She could feel her eyes stinging, tears brimming, her fingers quaking and legs growing weak. Her cheeks felt hot and her chest wouldn’t allow a full breath of air - only unsteady, unmatched, quick puffs that burned. A hot hand slid into her right, her brother’s fingers tightening their grip, but she couldn’t control her body enough to grab it back.

“I refuse to believe otherwise.” Sango answered confidently.

The mother now sobbed, nodding in acknowledgment as she weeped over the covered body of her daughter. “Thank you.”

Kagome wanted to apologize profusely. For failing to protect her. For failing to try to protect her. For her loss. For the chance she was never given to learn to defend herself. For the silence she had to keep. The guilt was so heavy on her shoulders, she was ready to give in in front of them all, but the hand in hers pulled her back, made her move.

More villagers were moving toward the mother and child to help comfort while they removed the body, and that was the prime opportunity to get Kagome out of there. Sota could tell from the moment it started that she was going to break down, maybe even panic. He knew his sister, he knew the signs, he understood the stress she was under, and he wanted nothing more than to get her away and help her as best as he could. So, he disregarded everyone else and began pulling Kagome ahead. Miroku would have to move at a slower pace, Sango and Kohaku would stick by him and the men that helped, and he figured their mom would respect that they needed a moment of peace where they weren’t under more eyes than necessary.

Sota ignored the broken utterances of his name that came from his sister, he ignored the threatening weather, and he ignored anything that could potentially get in his way. He directed Kagome around their house, to the back, and toward the tree line of the woods. Three trees in past the shrubbery bush, on the opposite side of the trunk, Sota found the rope ladder to the treehouse their dad had built them hanging. Holding it steady, he released Kagome’s hand.

“Come on. Climb.”

-> | next chapter |

[juliandev0rak]

Main 6 reacting to MC crashing their own funeral? Like, MC was alone in the woods and encountered a magical plant that temporarily stopped their heart for a couple days and so they passed out. When their LI finds them, they think they are dead and obviously hold a funeral service. But in the middle of it, MC wakes up in their coffin and starts knocking from the inside until someone opens it to find MC alive and well.

spooky and angsty? sign me up! ⚰️

I also used ideas from @hellodarknessmyoldfwen who had a similar request idea 💗

MC has really been through it… dying once is enough but TWICE?

warnings: mentions of death, grieving, being buried alive (not detailed, only briefly mentioned but i wanted to include a warning in case)

(also extra points to anyone who catches my What We Do In The Shadows reference)

Asra

he’s so upset when he finds you in the forest with no pulse and no sign of life, he collapses next to you and tries every spell he can think of to wake you up again

he can’t believe he’s lost you a second time and he blames himself for not saving you again

he has to be carried away from your side hours later when Muriel eventually finds him, he doesn’t want to leave you alone even though by now he’s tried every spell he can think of and it’s no use

he spends the days before your funeral in the palace library looking for anything he might’ve missed, he brought you back once and he’ll do anything to bring you back again- even if it means sacrificing himself

at first he doesn’t want to go to your funeral, it’s too painful, but he doesn’t want to regret missing it so he goes and Muriel stands with him for support

he feels like he needs to say something to honor you and all that you mean to him. but when he steps up to the front of the small crowd he’s interrupted by a loud knocking noise

his eyes fly to the coffin as he hears another noise and then he feels your aura, terrified and bright, and suddenly he’s clawing at the wooden lid 

someone comes to help him open it and there you are, sitting up and blinking into the brightness around you, incredibly confused

he shouts your name and nearly faints in surprise, not believing his eyes

after the initial surprise dies down you explain what happened, how you’d gone to find a rare herb for a spell and accidentally picked the wrong one

he’s worried that being dead, even for a few days, might’ve affected your memories again but luckily you seem just fine 

still- he isn’t letting you out of his sight, he’s watched you die twice and there’s no way he’s going to let it happen a third time

Julian

when he sees you lying in the forest his medical skills kick in and he’s immediately checking for a pulse and doing everything he can to get you breathing again

he doesn’t want to admit that you could really be gone

he blames himself for letting you die on his watch again and he goes into a deep spiral, spending all of his time between your death and funeral in the Rowdy Raven drowning his sorrows

the morning of your funeral Portia finds him passed out in his usual corner booth and drags him to Mazelinka’s to clean up, and hopefully sober up, before the funeral

when he sees your coffin he can’t help but burst into tears, hating himself for not finding you sooner or doing something more to bring you back

when he hears the first knocking sound he figures it must be his splitting headache but then he notices your other friends reacting to the sound as the knocking becomes more frequent

he watches with wide eyes as the lid to the coffin is lifted and you pop up, just as he had not long ago after his visit to the Hanged Man

”Oh, I’m way too drunk for this” is his first response, but then things shift into focus and he rushes to your side to check you over and make sure you’re really ok 

if you thought he was overprotective about your health before, he’s now extra careful and won’t leave your side for days until he’s certain the poison is out of your system

he has to hand it to you though, that was quite a dramatic reappearance and after he’s sure you’re safe both of you love to joke about crashing your own funerals

Nadia

she isn’t the one to find you and when the Chamberlain comes to tell her the news that your body’s been found at the edge of the palace gardens, she rushes to your side 

she immediately calls an investigation to determine the cause of death and brings Julian to examine you as well

when no cause of death is found she resigns herself to the fact that she’s lost you and begins to mourn

the funeral she plans for you is elaborate and half of Vesuvia is invited, there are speeches and a parade and she only just restrains herself from naming a holiday after you

halfway through one of the speeches there’s a commotion on the raised platform where your coffin is displayed and guards rush to the sound, only to realize it’s coming from inside your coffin

they look to Nadia in confusion and she steps onto the platform to press an ear to the coffin, when she hears a muffled noise she rears back in shock and immediately orders the guards to open the lid

as you sit up in the coffin, very much alive, Nadia realizes she’s never been more glad to be wrong about something

she calls the best doctors for you and insists on keeping you in bed for the next few days as she makes sure you’re really back to full health

she cancels every meeting and event to stay by your side until you’re feeling good as new and she asks you to please be more careful when picking wild plants, she has no idea what Lucio might have had planted during his time as Count 

Muriel

Inanna is the one who finds you and brings Muriel to where you’re laying, not too far from the hut and only a little ways into the wilder part of the forest

he fights back terror when he sees you lying there and can’t feel a pulse, his first thought is to run into town to get help

his second thought is to check what’s in your hand, a prickly looking green plant

he recognizes it immediately and heaves a sigh of relief, the adrenaline in his body causing him to fall to his knees next to you

he knows all of the plants that grow around here so he recognizes that you’ve accidentally eaten something poisonous, luckily for the both of you it’s only temporary

he carries you in to the hut and bundles your lifeless looking body up in the soft furs on his bed

he wishes he could get a message to Asra to see if he can help but he doesn’t want to leave your side

the effects of the poison could last for hours or days so he sits by the side of the bed holding your cold hand and hoping you’ll open your eyes again

by the second day he’s getting worried, from what he knows it should have worn off already but you could just be having a strong reaction to it

he takes to pacing around the hut, leaving only to get more firewood so he can keep your body warm, there isn’t much he can do but wait and hope

after four days he’s about to give up, maybe he’s identified the wrong plant and you really are dead, but just as he’s made up his mind to go find Asra you open your eyes and stare up at him with wide, confused eyes

he can’t restrain his excitement and relief as he pulls you into his arms and holds you close, making you promise to never eat anything you find in the woods without showing him first

Portia

when she finds you sprawled out under a big oak tree her first thought is that you’re napping but when she takes a step closer she notices you’re not breathing 

she immediately screams and draws the palace guards who help carry you inside while she runs to get Julian

despite his best efforts he simply can't find a pulse or get you to wake up so he pronounces you dead, sending Portia into a fit of hysterics

at your funeral a few days later she stands supported between Julian and Mazelinka, she’s trying to be strong for you but she can’t stop crying for long enough to say the eulogy she’s prepared

she gets ahold of her emotions eventually and launches into her memories of you, telling you how much everyone loves you and will miss you

the casket lid isn’t closed because Portia had insisted on one more look at you so it isn’t difficult for you to sit up, feeling quite well rested and very confused

as you take in your surroundings it occurs to you that you’re sitting in a coffin and that Portia is currently talking about you in the past tense, clearly there’s been a misunderstanding

”Portia” you call, trying to get out of the raised coffin, she doesn’t hear you so you call her name again and she spins around to face you

”Will you be QUIET? I’m trying to talk about MC!” She shouts, face red from tears and now anger as she tries to find the source of the rude interruption

her eyes widen as she takes you in and then she screams and runs towards you, nearly knocking you over

”You’re alive!” she says, hands reaching for your face as if to make sure you’re real. “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted Ilya, he doesn’t even have a medical license.” she grumbles, causing the man in question to object

after you’ve had a chance to explain what happened she says, ”Don’t you ever scare me like that again!” 

Lucio

he might not show it but he’s completely heartbroken that you’re no longer with him, he’s just too proud to cry in front of anyone (that’s reserved for behind closed doors)

he must admit, however, that he’s quite proud of the funeral he’s planned for you- it’s gaudy and extravagant and open to the public and he’s asked pretty much everyone you know to make a speech about you

he sits through all of the speeches without really paying attention, he’s thinking about the statute he wants to commission of you for the town square and how much he wishes you were here with him to get through these boring speeches (even if they are about you)

when it’s his turn to give a speech he starts to feel better, he loves an audience and he wants to make sure all of Vesuvia remembers you 

you wake up just as he takes the stage and are confused to find yourself surrounded by hundreds of white roses and laying in some sort of large gilded box, covered in what looks like precious jewels, you’ve woken up in some strange places before but this certainly takes the cake

you brush roses off of yourself and take stock of the situation, there's a lid on top of you but there are plenty of little holes which let in light and you can hear the sounds of a crowd around you

when you try the lid and it moves easily you reach up to push it off, reeling at the sunlight that floods into the space 

you take in the sight of Lucio on a stage set off to your left and the huge crowd in front of you, suddenly realizing that you’re currently attending your own funeral 

”MC was the bravest and most noble magician of all time, they were unparalleled in all of Vesuvia. NO- unparalleled in all the world!” Lucio is saying as you sit up and you hold back a laugh

”Was I?” you call over to him, swinging a leg over the edge of what you now realize is the world’s fanciest coffin, gilded even on the inside as if a dead person could appreciate the finery

”You were!” he answers, his signature smirk in place as he turns back to the crowd to continue his speech but the words die on his tongue and his head swings back to look at you in shock

”Well, I’m sorry to crash the party but it seems I’m no longer dead.” you explain, the crowd staring at you in as much awe as Lucio is

”See what I mean, people of Vesuvia? Unparalleled!” he grins as he rushes over to you and the crowd breaks into a cheer

once the chaos dies down you realize that Lucio still seems a bit upset and you realize that he’s upset that you stole the show, ”Are you really mad at me for coming back to life during my own funeral?” you ask

”My speech was going great and you ruined it! I was in the zone! Everyone was loving it.” He pouts and you shake your head in disbelief

”I loved it, I saw the end of it. It was a very lovely funeral, Lucio, I’m glad I had a chance to attend.” You smile

that seems to snap his brain back into place and he pulls you into his arms with a serious expression,  “I’m so glad you came back to me.”

[loserswin2]

A Matter of Timing (Jerza)

Read on FF or AO3

Erza felt that Jellal had the uncanny ability to always reach her side just in time. So the fact that now of all times is when he decides to be late is quite amusing to her. Or the fic where Jellal is late to witness the birth of not one but two of his children.

“Why don’t you rest for a bit? Today’s been very tiring for you.” Makarov made a motion for Erza to lean back onto the bed. She complied with his request but her eyes did not stray from the tiny bassinet near the bed.

“Did Warren manage to reach him?” She reached out to drag the bassinet as close as possible to the bed and she relaxed when her two sleeping babies entered her line of sight.

“Yes. Jellal is trying to get back as fast as possible. It doesn’t help that the client is being difficult.” Makarov gave an angry huff. “Mirajane is asking other guilds if they’ve worked with the client before filling out a letter of complaint to send to the Council. The client’s request was out of line and should have never been given to the guild.” What had been a simple escort mission that should have finished in two days had turned into a complicated mess. She didn’t know all the details and all she really cared about was that it had taken her husband away from her when she needed him most.

Erza bit her lip. It wasn’t entirely the client’s fault. Jellal had been reluctant to leave her side, especially this late in her pregnancy, and was initially going to refuse the request but she had insisted he take it. It was rare for clients to request Jellal’s aid as there were still some people who weren’t convinced he had earned his pardon. After several assurances that she would be fine as members of the guild would be on hand to check on her and that there wasn’t much to worry about as her due date was a month away, he left for his mission.

She knew something was wrong when he didn’t call home to check in. He always checked in, even if a mission was only going to take a day to complete. She felt he did that to remind himself that he had her to come home to now and that the life they’ve built together is not a dream but a reality.

Makarov had sent Meredy, Erik, and Sawyer to go to the town the mission was located in and everyone was unsettled when they were able to send a quick report back that the town was surrounded by a barrier that blocked people from entering and from communicating with those outside the town. They were positive Jellal was inside though as Erik had been partially able to hear Jellal’s thoughts. It had been a week since that report and the unease in Erza’s gut hadn’t settled.

It wasn’t uncommon for missions to run into complications and to take longer than usual but ever since Erza and Jellal had gotten together, they rarely, if ever, took long missions. Erza hadn’t ever thought of herself as a clingy person before but the fear that the universe would find a way to tear them apart again had her seeking shorter missions so she could quickly return to his side. She knew he felt the same and that the fear would never go away.

A whimper from the bassinet broke her out of her thoughts. She looked over to see one of the babies with a disgruntled look on his face which quickly went away when she reached out a hand to stroke his face to calm him. She softly smiled when the baby quieted down and turned to face his brother. She hadn’t had the time to process the shock of twins as her mind had been completely distracted by the pain of labor.

“I have to say, Erza,” Makarov’s voice was hushed but filled with warmth, “You and Jellal have made some adorable children.” He peered closer into the bassinet and said with a laugh, “Even if they did come rather early.”

She blushed. She knew he was referring to the fact that twins were born earlier than singletons but a part of her knew that he and the rest of the guild still made jokes about how quickly Erza had gotten pregnant. She and Jellal quietly married soon after her team had finished the 100-year quest and settled into a modest house on the outskirts of Magnolia. A few weeks later, they had found out that Erza was pregnant after she uncharacteristically burst into tears in the guildhall after Natsu had made a remark on her strange new eating habits. After seeing Porlyusica and breaking the news to the guild, everyone made sly remarks about now knowing why the two of them were never at the guildhall anymore but it didn’t distract from the sheer joy Jellal and Erza radiated at the prospect of starting a family.

“I’ll go inform the rest of the guild that we now have two new Fairy Tail members.” Makarov began making his way to the door. Only he, Wendy, and Porlyusica had been in the infirmary with her and she had refused to allow anyone else to see her children before Jellal did. She was surprised that none of the members had tried to force their way inside and figured that they were all behaving for once. Though it could also be that they were still terrified of an Erza ruled by pregnancy hormones. “Warren might have some more news on where your husband is.”

“Thank you, Master.” Erza gave a small bow before sitting back on the bed. Wendy had healed her earlier but she was still absolutely exhausted.

“Please get some rest, Erza. You know Jellal always finds his way back to you,” Makarov said before leaving. Though Makarov had tried to reassure her, Erza’s worry would only disappear once Jellal was by her side. The silence in the room only served to remind her that he wasn’t.

She turned to the bassinet and remembered what had transpired only a few hours ago. She’d endured many painful experiences in her lifetime but nothing could have prepared her for the pain of childbirth. It had felt worse with Jellal’s absence though her tears of pain had turned to tears of joy once her children were placed in her arms. Their hair shared the same shade of blue as Jellal and when they had briefly opened their eyes earlier, she saw they had her brown eyes. After briefly being looked over by Wendy and Porlyusica and declared perfectly healthy, they slept peacefully in the bassinet and hadn’t woken up since.

“Your father is running a bit late,” she whispered to the twins. “He’s usually not like this. He’s much more punctual than I am.” If Erza was to compare all her failures, she knew a majority of them were caused by her tardiness.

She had been too late to save Jellal from being brainwashed.

She had been too late in figuring that Siegrain and Jellal were the same.

She had been too late to stop Jellal from casting the self-destruction spell.

If she had been on time, maybe she could’ve spared them all the heartache. Whereas, Jellal’s timing, in her opinion, was much better.

He had arrived on time to save her from the dragons during the Eclipse Gate fiasco.

He had arrived on time to help liberate Hargeon Port from the Alverez forces.

He had arrived on time to save her and Wendy from Acnologia’s attack.

She knew if she were to tell these thoughts to her husband, he would disagree and insist that in the end, all that mattered was that they saved each other. That their mismatch in timing wasn’t something she should be concerned with and if anything, it meant they balanced each other out. Having a confident Jellal that was so positive about their future together was something she was still getting used to and reminded her of their time at the Tower, back when he was a bright-eyed boy and she a lost and confused girl who looked to him for strength. They’ve grown and changed since then but they were still quintessentially them and she was infinitely grateful that they found their way back to each other.

“I guess it’s only fair that he’s late this time since I’m so early. He can’t always be perfect,” she amusedly remarked. She recalled the few times a drunk Lucy and Levy had told her how lucky she was for having such a perfect husband and had wisely refrained from telling them all the stupid things Jellal has done.

She was content to just stare at her children until he arrived and she perked up when she felt the trace of his Meteor spell outside the window. He must’ve sped past everyone in the guild because in the next moment he was opening the door.

“Erza.” His eyes quickly looked her over before they were glued to the bassinet in front of her. From where he was standing, she knew he couldn’t see the babies. She felt the uneasiness in her gut disappear as she scanned him from head to toe and saw that he was alright aside from the minor cut on his forehead.

“You’re here.” She wanted to get up and go to him but she didn’t have the energy. He seemed to read her mind as he went to go wash his hands in the sink near the door before quickly making his way toward her. When he was close to the bed, she rushed into his arms and he held her tightly.

“I’m sorry for taking so long.” She didn’t realize she was trembling until she registered his hand running up and down her back to soothe her. “Are you okay?”

She pulled herself together and nodded. “I am now.” She leaned back and pressed her lips to his in a kiss that she hoped would convey the sheer mess of emotions that rattled inside of her since his departure. She ended the kiss before it could get out of hand like it usually did when one of them came back from a mission and muttered, “You missed a lot. Come meet your children.”

“Wha--” She laughed at how speechless Jellal was at seeing not one, but two babies in the bassinet.

She reached out to take his hand and gently stroked his palm while she explained. “Wendy kept hearing echoes of a heartbeat but didn’t think that could mean I was having twins. She’s really sorry about making the mistake and offered to babysit them whenever we want. We should probably take her up on that offer sometime. I’ve been told that twins are a handful.”

He grabbed both of her hands and stared at her with tears streaming down his face. She would never get tired of being able to see the love that shone freely from his eyes. “Erza, I…thank you,” he choked out.

She felt herself tearing up as well. She murmured, “I should be saying that to you.” They stared at each other for a few moments longer, hearts full of gratitude and love. They had taken a long and painful road to get to where they were now but it was fine as it brought them here. “Do you want to hold them?” she asked, freeing a hand to wipe the tears from his cheeks. He nodded and she arranged his arms in the correct position to hold them.

Once she safely deposited both babies into his arms, he whispered, “They’re so small.”

She rearranged the babies’ blankets, making sure they were covered and warm, and said, “Porlyusica said they’re the right size for twins and for being born early. They’re healthy as well so there’s nothing to worry about there. And it’s a good thing we couldn’t decide between those two boy names because now we can use both.”

He chuckled, probably remembering when she would spend a whole day declaring one name to be perfect for their child before deciding the next day that the other name was the better choice. “I do love that they have my hair color but I kind of wish they had yours.”

“Maybe the next one will.” Though Erza had grown up with the guild and Jellal had grown up with the people at the Tower, they had still largely kept to themselves and basically grew up alone. They decided they wanted a large family and that their children would never know what it was like to be alone and unloved.

“I’m still sorry I was late and missed everything. I promised to hold your hand forever at our wedding, remember?”

“I think I would’ve broken your hand. Labor was awful.”

“It would have been worth it.”

She hummed in agreement and looked down at the babies who had begun to squirm in Jellal’s hold. “Besides, you weren’t late at all.”

He gasped as the twins both opened their eyes to see their father for the first time.

“I think our sons will agree with me and say you came back like you always do, right on time.”

[girls-scenarios]

Girlfriend Sorn (Headcanon)

A/N: This wasn’t requested but CLC just came back with Devil (a BOP that reminds me of old-school CLC) and I just had to write something for my girl Sorn because she was really shining this comeback. I hope you all enjoy and go check out Devil!

♡ Tip Jar♡

Surprisingly shy when she’s crushing

It would either take lots of pushing from her members or you confessing for your relationship to go anywhere

After the two of you start dating, though, she warms up and gets less shy

Showing more and more of her bubbly personality

Loves holding hands or looping her arm through yours

Especially when the two of you are walking around together

Not the type to initiate public affection, but wouldn’t shy away from it either

She actually likes blowing you kisses

Even though she might playfully make weird faces at you if you actually kiss her when she’s not expecting it

Makes weird faces over things so much that you just get used to it

It’s just one of her quirks that makes you love her more

She’d draw you lots of things

From cute little heart doodles on handwritten notes

To full-on portraits of the two of you

You treasure them all and even frame some of them to hang up around the house

Also sometimes plays the guitar and sings to you

She gets flustered when she does it, though

Her favorite gifts from you are clothes, art supplies, or special items that are inside jokes just between the two of you

She wears a necklace that you got her every single day

And she’s always happy to show off the Build-a-Bear the two of you made

Although she’s honestly happy with anything you get her

The two of you go on LOTS of coffee dates

In fact, you can get her to do anything with you as long as you promise her coffee

Speaking of going places, the two of you travel together a lot

Whenever both of you get some time off, you’ll go with her to visit her family in Thailand, or the two of you will go somewhere new

Since Sorn is so good at languages, there’s never any issue with getting around

She’s also great at finding hidden spots, so you love traveling with her

Hopefully you like shopping, because she loves to shop when she travels

Both of your Instagram's are totally aesthetic

And your followers and friends are probably jealous

You take 95% of the photos on hers but you don’t mind

Even if you are photographing her almost everywhere you go

Or helping her film for the vlog

It’s usually fun to film travel vlogs, though, and you get used to it pretty quickly

She likes to tease you by saying sentences about you or giving you nicknames in languages you don’t understand

At first you try and figure out what she’s saying

But after a while you just give up and accept it

(She only ever says good things anyway)

She has a lot of nicknames for you that you do understand too

Although she doesn’t say them much around other people because she gets embarrassed

Full of energy in the morning, lazy at night

Likes to spend long nights with you watching YouTube videos or true crime documentaries

Probably listens to a lot of crime podcasts too

References crime too much and gets weird looks

“Babe, you can’t just mention serial killers at dinner with my parents.”

Would try to stop watching so much if you didn’t like it, though

Loves lazing around and star gazing

And gets cuddly as soon as it gets dark outside

Happy to just lay in your arms doing nothing

Genuinely so cute yet also so cool and hot?

The duality of one woman

She pouts at you when you tease her and she’s so cute it almost hurts

She also giggles a lot and likes to wear cute, oversize clothes at home

And she’s just the cutest when she sleeps or gets excited

But she also kills you whenever she sends you cool or sexy photos from photo shoots

And she definitely owns some sort of secret lingerie or sexy clothes she pulls out to tease you with

A fan of leaving hickies on your neck

Or kissing you with dark lipstick on

Only to blink up at you innocently when you complain

Goes from cute to sexy in the blink of an eye and then laughs when you get flustered

Loves you and says it pretty frequently

Especially you do something that makes her smile or laugh

A little reminder from time to time, as if the affection in her eyes didn’t give her away

“I love you, you know that?”

If you don’t say it back, she’ll pout, making you laugh and lean over to kiss her

“You know I love you too.”

[quicksilversquared]

Keeping Up With the Ladyblog

A reporter has to adapt and improvise. It's an important skill to learn, especially when one is a reporter who is still in school and can't skip out to film all of the akuma battles without getting grounded. So Alya gets creative and starts using old security camera footage of akuma attacks. It keeps the Ladyblog active and maybe, just maybe, she'll finally get her scoop of a lifetime.

links in the reblog

Initially, setting up the Ladyblog and getting a devoted userbase had been a bit of an uphill battle. Even though Alya had gotten noticed right away with her footage from the first fight, that didn't guarantee her a permanent position as the best-known blog on Paris's superheroes. Not covering a few fights would mean that someone else could sneak in and steal her spot, so that meant that even if she missed a little school here and there (or had to drag her sisters along during a fight), it was worth it. She had to stay on top of all things Ladybug and right then, that meant getting the best coverage of as many fights as she could physically manage and writing up good, thought-provoking articles for when there was a slow day or two.

(Of course, there were other problems that she had to deal with as well. Alya had to put together a functioning site that was user-friendly, could handle the traffic that she was getting, and offered everything that anyone could possibly want from an official superhero blog, because there was no. way. Alya was going to lose traffic just because some other blog had one option or another that she didn't have or because her blog went down from traffic overload at a critical moment. There were some places that she drew the line- she didn't accept fanfiction of the superheroes, because they were real people and therefore it would be weird, and only appropriate art was allowed- but she had to add all sorts of options so that people who visited the Ladyblog would come back over and over again. It was a lot of work and all had to be done fairly quickly, which meant that her homework sometimes got pushed off until later than it should have.)

Alya didn't consider setting up the blog itself to be that big of a problem, though. Software could usually be battered into submission if she worked on it for long enough, and as long as she didn't try any system updates to the Ladyblog when a lot of people were using it, short outages were usually not a big deal. It was the content that was more of a problem, especially now that her parents (and teachers) were on her back about not skipping school just to film attacks.

She just had to get creative.

Originally, Alya had considered trying to use her fame from being the sole moderator of the Ladyblog to see if she could get a get-out-of-class-free card during the attacks. Her teachers could just check her blog to make sure that she wasn't abusing the pass, she figured, and it wasn't as though most of her classes would be that hard to make up. But it didn't take long before Alya realized that that was just a pipe dream. No teacher would just let her go whenever just so she could keep up a blog when there were professional reporters out there as well that could film the attacks just as well (though Alya would argue with that). Besides, she sometimes had to bike across town to try to get footage, and there were times when it took so long that Ladybug and Chat Noir were already done when she got there. Without any footage, it was a waste of her time.

She had to play it smart. She couldn't just take footage from news channels, but what if there was other footage out there, unseen by most of the public? The Ladyblog already used fan submissions. People took pictures and videos of the superheroes all the time, and most didn't have any interest in starting their own superhero blog but were willing enough to share their superhero content online. Alya always spent a chunk of time every day sorting through the submissions and organizing them by akuma for easy reference.

Still, that wasn't quite enough. Alya had to go above and beyond if she didn't want to be replaceable.

Asking Mr. Kubdel about getting security camera footage from the Louvre partway through the year was a stroke of pure genius on her part. Getting it was a combination of luck, her fame as the Ladyblogger, and the fact that she knew Alix.

"They don't have the best angles in the world," Alya told Nino three days after Mr. Kubdel agreed to her request. She had just gotten the footage from all of the security cameras for the time frames of the last few akuma attacks that had gone through the museum, and digging through the video to find clips of the actual fight was taking a while. Some parts she could just fast-forward through, since the superheroes didn't go into that particular room, but she couldn't go too fast or she could miss the superheroes flashing by. "But I can't really complain. No one has any video of any of these fights yet, so this is incredible."

"It was super-nice of Mr. Kubdel to agree to it," Nino said as he watched the video over her shoulder. "Are you- whoop, there goes Chat Noir."

"Am I what?" Alya asked as she marked down the time Chat Noir entered and when he exited. "Ooh, look, that's a cool akuma!"

"It is a pretty cool design," Nino agreed. "Are you going to ask other places if you can get security camera videos from them, too? Like, there's some places that seem to have a lot of akuma fights go through them. School, the Eiffel Tower, the Grand Paris-"

Alya's eyes lit up at the mention of the last place. "Ooh! D'you think I could wrangle some footage of Chloe as Antibug? I kind of want to see some footage of her getting her ass handed to her by Ladybug and Chat Noir."

Nino cringed slightly. "...yeah, I wouldn't phrase it like that when you ask Mr. Bourgeois about it if I were you. He might say no just because of it." He considered that for a second, then added, "Actually, come to think of it, a lot of the akuma that pop up at his hotel tend to be after Chloe, right? So maybe he would say no if most of the footage you get is of Chloe being tormented, no matter how funny you find it. And he's not going to have anything from inside of the guest rooms, just the hallways and dining areas and whatnot."

Alya sniffed. "I'd be professional and include as much of the fight as I could find. Any compilations of Chloe being pursued by angry akumas would be completely unofficial and only posted to an anonymous YouTube account. Which I would then share with you guys, of course."

Nino laughed.

"I think I could persuade him to help, though," Alya decided, going back to the Louvre videos. "He's nice enough when Chloe isn't pushing him around. I'd just have to ask when Chloe isn't there. Maybe I could ask Sabrina's father for help to get footage from other places." She squinted at the screen, then stopped the video for a moment. Nino looked over and saw that it had gone all blurry and pixilated.

He frowned. "Uh, what happened to it? Is the file corrupted?"

"I don't know. It's happened a couple times before on other files, once near the start of this fight and twice again near the end of the first fight I looked at. I don't know what causes it." Alya rewound a little so she could get the last good frame of the superheroes and record the time so she could cut it there. "And... I know I kind of gave up on exposing Ladybug and Chat Noir's identities on the Ladyblog, but I kind of thought that I might catch them detransforming on the security cams. I wasn't going to post that part online, of course, but still..."

"Maybe they're just really good at moving out of the area first," Nino suggested. "That's gotta be tough, actually. I never thought about it. But there's so many cameras in buildings like that nowadays that they have to be super-careful so they don't get seen by others or by cameras!"

"They're bound to slip up sometime," Alya grumbled, opening another file and starting to fast-forward through it. "I really hope I don't miss an attack when I'm working on this. Like, it's gonna be great for my blog to have this footage and all, but it's the live stuff that people like the most."

  The first of the spliced-together security camera footage hit the Ladyblog almost a week after Alya got the first batch of raw video. There was an immediate spike of interest, though, as Alya complained to Nino as they waited for Adrien and Marinette to arrive to work on their group project, some people were whining about favoritism getting her the tapes.

"It was just because I asked first," Alya grumbled, scrolling through the comments. "Because I thought of it first. And- oh! I forgot to tell you! Mr. Bourgeois said yes, I just have to figure out the dates and times of old attacks myself and give them to his security people. And I talked to the principal too, and to Sabrina's father. Mr. Damocles said yes, and Sabrina's father said that he would ask his supervisor and also people at Notre Dame and the Eiffel Tower about the security cameras at their individual sites." She was grinning now, momentary irritation gone. "It's gonna be a beast going through everything and getting my homework done, but it'll be worth it."

Nino frowned. "Are all of them gonna give you footage from past attacks? Some might discard video once a certain amount of time passes, or they might think that it's too much work to go back that far to get you the files."

Alya shrugged, face dropping slightly. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Still, going through the past stuff I do get plus new stuff is gonna be hard. At least spring break is coming up soon. Ish. Kinda. And then I can really plow through stuff once it's summer."

"You're gonna vanish into your room and never come out again," Nino joked. "You'll get all pale from lack of sun."

"I still gotta go out for livestreaming attacks," Alya reminded him. "And once I don't have homework to do, I don't think it'll take that long to mark and edit stuff. I can get through one per day for sure, maybe more. I can do it while I babysit my sisters, as long as they don't want to go anywhere."

Nino snorted. "Right, and the chances that they won't want to go out to the park or on a walk?" He shook his head at her. "But I can help with the timing stuff, so you can just focus on the splicing things together."

Alya grinned and leaned forward to press a kiss to his lips. "That would be great, Nino! Thank you so much!"

"You'll have to tell me how you want it done sometime before I start, but it really shouldn't be a problem," Nino assured her, grinning as he returned the kiss. "Though maybe we'll have time for you to show me before Adrien and Marinette arrive. Where are they, anyway?"

Alya just shrugged. "Who knows. I texted Marinette ten minutes ago to remind her we would be meeting, but no response yet. She might be in the middle of a project, and if she is, I don't wanna startle her. Last time I called her when she was busy sewing, she got started by her phone ringing and stabbed herself with a pin."

Nino cringed. "Ow. Yeah, I texted Adrien too, but no dice. No idea what he might be doing- oh, wait, here they come. Finally."

"And from the same direction too, hmm? Interesting!" Alya slid her laptop back into her bag and stood up, grinning as she watched Adrien and Marinette approach. "And neither of their houses are in that direction, either."

"We're here to study, not interrogate them," Nino reminded her. "Midterms, remember?"

"Oh, but come on-"

"You can interrogate them after, once we've gotten our studying done," Nino pointed out, grinning. "But I actually want to pass my classes, thank you very much."

  There were times when Alya almost regretted starting to post the security camera footage. It was a lot to handle and process, and it ended up cutting into her article-writing time, which, well, she really liked writing those articles. It was one of the things that set the Ladyblog apart. But the old footage was popular, particularly when there was no good news coverage of the fight, and she could always prioritize which fights to edit together and which could maybe be set aside until she had more time.

It was after Alya was first tapped to become Rena Rouge when she realized how great of an idea it had been to start including the security footage from attacks on the Ladyblog. She couldn't cover her own fights- well, not that she was called for many of the akuma attacks, really- but she could still provide that footage, and it wasn't as though she had only started with that kind of footage after she became a superhero, so it wasn't going to raise any suspicion.

Well. Much suspicion, at least. There might be a few people who wondered why she could never cover Rena Rouge's fights, but there had been few enough of them so far that the pattern wouldn't be apparent. And if it continued- which, well, she hoped that it would- then she could always use her much improved video editing skills to "interview" Rena Rouge in person.

She was sure that Ladybug would let her borrow the Miraculous for a little extra time if she mentioned the need to throw people off of her trail. After all, Ladybug was very big on secrecy.

Most of the time, though, Alya loved her stroke of brilliance. It had been worth the security checks to make sure that she could be trusted with the security footage, and she had managed to shore up her views again. Future employers would see that she was focused and willing to put in the work, and well, she had gotten herself a fabulous reputation at the Louvre after she had spotted a shoplifter on the footage and let them know about it right away. It made her feel like a detective of sorts, discovering things that she wouldn't have otherwise.

And, well, summer was coming. Soon, she could get all caught up, and then Alya was sure that it wouldn't be quite so overwhelming.

  "I figured it out!"

Nino glanced up at Alya as she slid into the empty spot at the table he was sitting at. From the other side of the table, Adrien and Marinette looked over at the reporter as well.

"What did you figure out?" Marinette asked, gaze immediately going to the tablet Alya was holding. She looked interested and inched closer. "Is it something to do with the Ladyblog?"

"It is!" Alya held up her tablet. "So you know how I've been putting together footage of the akuma fights from security cameras?"

Nino nodded. Both Adrien and Marinette looked puzzled. Alya groaned at them.

"Seriously? Have neither of you looked at the Ladyblog in weeks?! It's my big new thing!"

"I've been busy," they both claimed at once, before shooting each other startled looks. Alya narrowed her eyes at them both.

"Too busy to even glance at the Ladyblog once in a while, even now that school is almost out? Really?"

"I've glanced, but not looked into the archives at all," Marinette corrected herself. Then she frowned. "Wait, what do you mean, security camera footage?"

"Huh, I guess I must not have mentioned it to you before, either," Alya said, looking thoughtful. "Hm. Anyway, I've been contacting people at the Louvre and at the Eiffel Tower and Chloe's dad and Sabrina's dad and the principal to ask if I can get the raw security camera footage from the akuma fights that go through there, and they all said yes! So I've been going through that and splicing together stuff from different cameras to try to get as much of the fight covered as possible."

Now Adrien was frowning, too. "Really? They just happen to know which cameras Ladybug and Chat Noir have gone past?"

Now Nino snorted. "Of course not. They just basically give Alya all the footage from the cameras for the duration of the fight and she- well, we, I've been helping- have to go through and find which cameras Ladybug and Chat Noir went past and when."

For some reason, both Adrien and Marinette now looked deeply alarmed.

"Anyway, we've been noticing some weirdness on some of the clips," Alya told them. "It get corrupted for a bit, mostly near the start of the fight before the superheroes show up or after the akuma's been defeated but sometimes in the middle, too. I've been puzzling over it for the longest time, and I think I've finally figured it out!"

"Really?" Nino asked, interested and finally distracted from his strangely pale friends. "How?"

Alya grinned. "It was some comments on the Ladyblog that finally got me to notice the pattern. The corruption is either before Ladybug and Chat Noir show up or right after they vanish- or, in the middle of the fight, if one of them has to go recharge, then it happens then, too."

Nino blinked, then caught on. "So you're saying that somehow their magic is interfering with the cameras and protecting their secret identities?"

Alya pointed at him. "Exactly! I thought when I started all this that I might accidentally catch them transforming or see someone where they weren't meant to be, but their magic just means that they can't be caught on camera. It kind of makes me wonder if they always have that effect on cameras when they aren't transformed, or if it only pops up when they're about to transform or just detransformed."

Nino was so caught up in thinking about it that he completely missed Adrien and Marinette's identical sighs of relief as they both slumped in their seats. "It's gotta be the latter. Otherwise how would you explain people never getting a good picture of you, if it happened all the time?"

"Maybe Juleka is Ladybug, then," Marinette offered, giggling a little. "Remember, she was convinced that she had some sort of photo curse?"

"And now she's figured out how to manipulate the magic so that she can get normal photos again," Alya joked, sounding serious for a moment before she laughed. "Nah, she can't be, she was akumatized and fought Ladybug and Chat Noir. Remember that?"

Nino shuddered. "How could I forget? I was stuck in a skirt and high heels for ages!"

"I rocked the platforms," Adrien bragged. He grinned at Nino's raised eyebrow. "What? Sure, they were hard at first, but with a little practice..."

Nino just shook his head and groaned. "You would, dude. You must have been hidden, though. I couldn't find you after Reflecta left."

"Yeah, the outfit and the makeup would do that, probably," Adrien pointed out with a laugh. "I mostly decided to stay out of the way. And that fight didn't last that long. Ladybug and Chat Noir defeated her within an hour."

"Okay, fair."

"What would you do if you found something that told you who Ladybug or Chat Noir are?" Marinette asked, pulling the conversation back on track. "I mean, you can't see them transforming or detransforming, but if..."

Alya waved a hand. "Oh, I would destroy the footage as fast as possible. Hopefully I wouldn't recognize them-" though she wasn't certain about the probability of that, considering that Nino had been picked as a temporary superhero, too. What were the chances of that happening if Ladybug at least didn't know them to some extent? Unless of course it was a coincidence since she was the well-known Ladyblogger and Nino had already been out in the middle of the fight before Ladybug grabbed him- "and so it wouldn't matter if I saw them for two seconds."

Adrien looked astonished. "Really? I thought that was your dream, to figure out who they are! Not that I don't support the deleting thing," he added quickly. "That's probably safer for them. But what made you decide to change your mind?"

Well, she had become a superhero herself, for one. She had realized that she didn't really want the city to know her identity, because what if the akumas targeted her family and friends? And then Nino was a superhero, too, and what if people knew that and she became a target? She had figured that if she didn't want the city knowing her secret identity, she should probably extend the same courtesy to Ladybug and Chat Noir. And Heroes Day had proved that even superheroes knowing the secret identity of other superheroes wasn't necessarily safe. But instead of saying any of that, Alya just said "Well, I realized that it wouldn't be safe for them. And I figured that we should probably respect our superheroes' wishes since they've done so much for the city."

Adrien grinned. "That's very mature of you, Alya."

Alya just shrugged. Really, there had been so much more to it than she had let on. He was probably giving her too much credit, considering it had taken her being in the superheroes' shoes to realize what she had. "Yeah, well. I'll get a big scoop someday. I just refuse to have it at the superheroes' expense."

  With the start of summer came more free time, and Alya attacked her backlog of footage with gusto. It was slowly shrinking as she and Nino dug into it with occasional help from Adrien or Marinette, deleting the superhero-less footage out and discarding it. It had become a bit of an obsession now that she had plenty of free time, and Alya had finally- finally!- figured out how to have several streams going at once on her screen and how to pause the others and switch to just one when there was footage that she wanted to watch more closely.

It made things go a lot faster, that was for sure. She was getting through a couple akuma attacks per day, and she finally had to start queuing things up so that the Ladyblog wouldn't get overwhelmed. One per day would be good, maybe two if they were short fights. Alya prioritized newer fights, too, knowing that the old ones were interesting but also old news. The newer fights generated more views and more interest, but it wouldn't be long before the next wave of akumas took over public interest.

Still, Alya loved having that old footage. She loved watching Ladybug and Chat Noir facing up against the akuma, and she loved seeing Ladybug's creativity when faced with a strange Lucky Charm. Their teamwork was so strong, and the way that they absorbed the occasional extra teammate and worked in those powers- yeah, it was pretty obvious why they had been chosen to be the city's main superheroes.

She was digging through her folders of akuma fight footage when she spotted a particularly large one. Alya frowned, puzzled- what, had the entire city been involved in the fight?- when she noticed the date. It was from Heroes Day.

"Oh yeah," Alya said eagerly, grinning as she clicked on the folder. This had been one of the battles that she really wanted footage for. All five superheroes at once in the boss battle? Yes please. All of the existing footage of the fight had been filled by possessed people, so it would be great to get literally anything else.

It was going to be difficult to piece together all of the bits of footage that were bound to be all over the city, but hey, it was summer and Alya could probably rope her friends into helping. And hey, if she could get Adrien roped in, he had several computer monitors. He could use all of them at once and have a ridiculous number of feeds going all at once. But Alya was impatient and wanted to get another look at the fight, so she flipped through the camera files until she found a set on the Eiffel Tower. They opened right before a fox-themed supervillain got there- and ugh, Alya immediately found herself annoyed. Another Volpina? Why were there so many people in Paris who seemed to have some sort of design on the Fox Miraculous?

Ugh. She was going to scour the footage to see if she could get a glance at this new Volpina's unakumatized identity. One Fox villain before Rena Rouge had showed up was one thing, but again? Nuh-uh.

Alya watched as once again, chaos descended on Paris. Volpina detransformed- uh, could Hawkmoth recall akumas? Then why had the baby akuma actually happened at all?- and revealed- uh, was that Lila? What was Lila doing in Paris? She had told the class that she was out of the country and wasn't going to be returning yet!

Okay, something was definitely up there. Maybe Marinette was on to something when she said that she didn't trust Lila. Especially when- they had talked to Lila on Heroes' Day, hadn't they? They had video chatted with her as a class. She had said that she was abroad, and it had looked like she was, too.

Strange. Alya was going to have to do some digging there for sure.

On-screen, the red butterflies descended on Paris. Alya winced as she remembered the terror that had reigned. They had been tricked by Volpina's illusions- and wait wait wait. Alya rewound the footage to when Lila detransformed and- oh, she looked disappointed when she was detransformed, as though she knew what she had been doing and had wanted to continue.

Even stranger. Also really, really concerning. Alya was going to put a hold on making any plans with Lila until she figured out what was going on there.

Alya continued watching. Red akumas found their mark, and Hawkmoth emerged, watching over the panic. Red bubbles bloomed into oversized akumas, and then... well, more chaos. There was screaming in the streets as people were turned into akumas and everyone else fled- well, there looked like there was screaming in the streets, at least. The cameras didn't pick up sound, which did take away from the experience, just a bit, but she could imagine what it would have sounded like.

The sheer amount of footage that Alya was getting from just the Eiffel Tower was astounding. She could only imagine how much she was going to get across the city, though the ice appearing now from the re-akumatized Frozer probably took at least a few of the feeds out. If she just played it all one camera at a time, it would be an insanely long video.

She might have to learn how to play several streams at once in a split screen. Hawkmoth would have to be shown at all times, Alya thought, and then she could do flashes of different akumas and also show the superheroes. They would fill the screen when they were doing an intense fight, maybe and-

Oh, Alya had so many ideas for the video already and she had only watched part of four streams so far. The number of akumas and the civilian resistance- which, by the way, amazing- meant that she could really play with angles and video cuts and oh, it was gonna be great.

It was also going to be a whole lot of work. Alya was probably going to spend the entire week picking out clips and then deciding which ones she wanted to use, and then it was going to be another few days of editing.

Hopefully her friends would be willing to help her out. They could blast through mostly-boring feeds in no time and get stuff trimmed down for her to review. Maybe she could even get Max to help her with the split-screen editing stuff, since he understood all of that technical talk.

Smiling widely, Alya turned back to her computer. Most of the footage at the moment was just Hawkmoth standing up on the Eiffel Tower with his two singers- and boy was Alya going to rake him over the coals for that, it was ridiculous- and so she had to wait for Ladybug and Chat Noir to head up like she knew they had. Thankfully the camera on that level wasn't iced over at all, like the ones on the lower levels were. This time, she had a front-row seat (abet at a bad angle) as she saw Lila get akumatized again (and boy was it interesting that Lila didn't look at all alarmed about the butterfly approaching her- she looked eager) and Volpina conjured up a second Hawkmoth while the real one hid.

And boy, was that ever an anxiety-inducing experience, watching Ladybug and Chat Noir approach the decoy while the real Hawkmoth hid down below, ready to surprise them from behind. Somehow Ladybug noticed him creeping up on them- and how, Alya had no idea how, she and Chat Noir seemed a bit distracted by trying to get Hawkmoth to do the right thing by turning over his Miraculous- and then they were fighting. Hawkmoth's cane-sword went down, but he didn't go down with it.

Alya sat up and watched as the three secondary users re-joined the fight just in time. She wondered where they had gone wrong, where they might have messed up and could have done better. The next bit was also the only example they had so far of the mysterious Peacock user's powers, and they needed to know what to expect in case they came into play again.

It wasn't that the Peacock's powers seemed that dangerous, at least not from what they had seen so far. Their team had just been taken off guard, and that gave Hawkmoth enough of a distraction to run off like the coward he was. Alya watched the giant moth vanish after Ladybug hit it, and she wondered if it would have vanished so easily if Ladybug had hit it when Hawkmoth was still there. Had the Peacock backed off as soon as Hawkmoth had retreated?

On one of the streams, the superheroes glanced around, trying to figure out where Hawkmoth had gone. Meanwhile, a Hawkmoth-shaped blob limped- had he been injured? They should have looked for him!- past one of the iced-over cameras, and then slumped down against a wall. Alya leaned forward, eager, as Hawkmoth sat there for a few seconds, likely shaken by the whole run-in.

Was he going to detransform? Had they really caught Hawkmoth on camera, after nearly a year of attacks? The ice on the camera would make it hard to see exactly who it was, but Ladybug's Miraculous Cure was bound to come zipping past any moment now. Was this her big scoop-?

"Ugh, and there's that distortion," Alya complained, flopping back in her chair as the already-fuzzy footage got even worse as a burst of purple lit up the screen. "C'mon, really? Can't his kwami not provide magical protection for him? The dude doesn't deserve it."

Alya sulked at the screen as a rush of red went by, clearing off the ice but doing nothing for the magical distortion. She could make out a bit of a shape on the screen, and colors- red and white- but no details, and static regularly cut across the already blurry picture. The static stayed there for longer than normal, and then the blurry, pixilated shape of civilian Hawkmoth finally got up, heading for the stairs. It was only once he had fully exited the frame that the picture finally snapped back into focus, one last bit of static cutting across the screen before the picture stabilized for good.

"Oh, come on," Alya groaned, flopping back on her bed. "That's so unfair that we were so close, and this freaking arse just- just waltzes out of there? Just walks away down the stairs and off of the tower and- and- ugh!" She slapped her fist down on the bed next to her- and then she froze. "Wait. Wait, wait, wait. He walked off of the Eiffel Tower. There have to be more cameras on the staircase and at the bottom. If he didn't detransform in front of those, would they have gone out, too?"

She didn't know. She had never really tracked other cameras from the area after the fights ended, so she didn't know if they had caught the civilian Ladybug and Chat Noir or not and she wasn't going to go back and look, not now that she knew now how dangerous it could be to have other people knowing a superhero's secret identity.

But now? There was absolutely no downside to finding out Hawkmoth's secret identity. It would be the biggest break of Alya's journalistic career.

Re-energized and laser-focused, Alya clicked back to her files, looking for the other cameras. It took a few tries for her to find the footage from the stair cameras and then she fast-forwarded to close to the end. There was a minute of anxious waiting, where Alya scanned the entire screen in case Hawkmoth had tried climbing down the side of the stairs or something ridiculous like that, and then a pair of feet appeared, headed slowly and almost unsteadily down the stairs. Before the feet could go down any further, though, the footage came to an end.

Alya let out a frustrated snarl and rewound the video a few seconds, pausing it right before it came to an end. Only a pair of perfectly white shoes and the hem of bright red pants came into view.

Those... those pants looked really familiar. Alya frowned as she stared at them. She couldn't quite place them, but maybe Marinette could, if Alya brought the footage over the next time that she went to Marinette's house. But that was stupid, Alya decided after a moment of mulling it over. Maybe they knew someone with pants like that, but there were several million people living in Paris. There was no guarantee that there weren't other people making the same (awful) fashion choices.

"So close," Alya complained aloud, glaring at her screen. If only Mr. Raincomprix had sent footage that was a few seconds longer! Except- oh, that was it! All she had to do was email him and ask for the footage from the lower-level cameras running from maybe a minute before the end of the fight to several minutes after the current end time. That would be sure to get her lots of footage of Hawkmoth, and surely he would be recognizable in some of it.

She had to hope that the footage still existed and it hadn't been written over at all. It would be close- it had been over two months since that battle- but Alya knew that she had gotten older footage from the Eiffel Tower before.

Hopefully that stuff hadn't just been saved for longer because of the akuma attack.

Excited, Alya turned back to her computer. If she was going to file a request for more footage and hoped to get it in a reasonable amount of time, she needed to have all of the information possible- what the camera IDS were, the exact date and times that she wanted were, everything. Just to be sure, Alya checked her other files to see which cameras would be focused on either the place where Hawkmoth detransformed or the stairs that he had gone down, writing the code for every last one down. Once she had that, she folded up the list and stuffed it in her pocket as she raced for the door.

"Alya, remember that you're going to be babysitting the twins in two hours," he mom called out as Alya raced past. "You'll be back by then, right?"

Alya had to bite down the frustrated noise that nearly escaped because even though this was critical, this was huge, it wasn't as though she couldn't wait a little longer to review the footage. And she could review the footage while sitting out at the kitchen counter with her sisters watching a movie in the living room, it would just be harder. "Yeah, I'll be back!"

And hopefully, she would come back with the footage that would change everything.

  Officer Raincomprix was all too willing to bring Alya over to the Eiffel Tower to get more of the footage, all without her having to explain anything. He showed her to the people she needed to talk to and then trotted off to deal with a littering teenager while Alya was ushered inside of the office. The staff were all helpful, and soon Alya was leaving with everything she needed, with no questions asked.

She supposed that it was good that all of the adults were so busy, because she didn't exactly want to explain. Really, Ladybug and Chat Noir should be the first ones to know about Hawkmoth's identity.

Alya jogged back towards her family's apartment, memory stick clutched tightly in her hand. On it, she hoped, would be evidence that would show her Hawkmoth's identity. She was nearly back to her building when she ran smack-dab into a very familiar figure.

"Yo, I was just looking for you!" Nino exclaimed, pulling Alya up. He bent back over to grab the memory stick that she had dropped before the passing pedestrians could kick it away and handed it back to her. "I was trying to text you earlier, but I didn't get any response."

Alya winced. "I'm so sorry! I just got really distracted by my video editing. I opened up the folder for Heroes' Day and I got really distracted."

"Oh, that was a crazy fight. I bet there was a ton of footage. Well, until everything got all icy, at least." Nino glanced down at her as they continued down the sidewalk. "So can I ask why you were out? You look out of breath."

"Not out here," Alya warned immediately. She didn't want a passerby overhearing and trying to grab the memory stick to grab the discovery for themselves. "Come inside with me. I can tell you there, and at any rate I have to be back in-" she checked her phone- "fifteen minutes anyway to babysit my sisters."

Nino followed without question, looking interested.

"So did you find something interesting in the footage?" Nino asked curiously. "You must have. Or was there footage missing, was that why you were out?"

"Not quite," Alya told him, grinning. "I needed more footage, yeah, but it wasn't during the middle of the fight. It was at the end, because I almost had Hawkmoth's civilian self on tape."

"You- what?" Nino asked, freezing for a few seconds before jogging up the stairs alongside her again. "You think you have Hawkmoth on tape? I thought that the magic messed with the cameras!"

Alya grinned. "It does. But where he detransformed- he had to go down the stairs, and there's another camera there. Before, I could see his shoes and the hems of his pants, but now I have an extended clip of the video! It should show him coming down the stairs into sight."

Nino looked impressed. "Oh, that is amazing. But what if it's not someone you know? I mean, there's a lot of people in Paris."

"Well, I'll turn the video over to Ladybug and Chat Noir. They can decide if they want to get the police involved. They might recognize the guy, too." Alya was assuming that she wouldn't recognize Hawkmoth, but she supposed that it was a possibility. "Or we could help by asking Max if he can run some sort of face recognition thing, so that they don't have to go to the police. I'm worried that the police might try to take over themselves and end up getting really hurt by underestimating him."

"Yeah, they might try to do that. Freaking adults, thinking that they know better than the actual experts." Nino shook his head, disgusted. "But do you think Max can do that? I mean, I know he's good at computers, but face recognition- that sounds like he would have to tap into files from, like, ID cards or something."

Alya shrugged. She supposed that was true, but Max was crazy smart and also had Markov. She was sure that if she asked, he would try to see what he could do for her.

"So are you gonna look at the footage now?" Nino asked as they reached her floor. "I thought you said that you have babysitting to do."

"I do, but I wanna at least look at the footage first, if I can." Alya pulled out her keys to open the apartment door. "And I was planning on just putting on a movie and some snacks for my sisters so that they stay out of trouble while I work. They should stay out of trouble that way."

Nino gave her a supremely dubious look. "Your sisters, staying out of trouble?"

"I'd still be in the room! And it's not like I would have headphones in or anything."

"...would you like me to stay there while you do your video stuff?"

"That would be amazing," Alya told Nino, leading him into the apartment. She waved to her mom as they headed down the hallway. "But I still have time to get this done before my mom has to leave!"

Nino glanced at the clock on the wall. "Uh, babe, you only have ten minutes."

"Do you really think I can't get this done in ten minutes?" Alya led the way into her room and wriggled her mouse, waking her laptop up. "You know me better than that. I know exactly where to look in the footage."

"And you really think you'll be able to focus on looking after kids once you've seen Hawkmoth's face?"

...Alya had to admit that that was a very good point.

"I can show you the footage leading up to the end while the computer recognizes my memory stick," Alya told Nino as she plugged the new flash drive in. She rewound the footage. "See, here's Hawkmoth escaping- but he didn't go far!"

"That ice on the cameras is annoying," Nino commented as the footage played. "Is all of it like that?"

"A few cameras were spared, I think," Alya told him. "Including the one on the main level, thank goodness. I mean, there's a few blurry spots from where the ice extended onto the lens a little bit, but it's mostly clear."

"Oh, and now it's worse," Nino added. "He detransformed right in front of the camera, holy cow."

"Yeah, I was really hoping that the distortion would go away since he seemed to be hanging around, but no such luck." Alya watched as on-screen, the ice cleared away and Hawkmoth finally got up, heading for the stairs. "So watch here- there's no one besides him and the superheroes on the Tower, right? Well, them and Lila, but that's beside the point. It got evacuated pretty fast, and anyone who didn't get off got akumatized or hit by Dark Cupid. So he's headed for those stairs."

"So whoever comes down is Hawkmoth, right," Nino agreed. Then he paused. "Wait, you said Lila? But she was abroad!"

"Apparently she lied." Alya stopped the tapes right where Hawkmoth's feet appeared on the stairs. "Okay, so the stuff that I got should start about thirty seconds before the end of these, so there's some overlap."

A tension rose in the room as Alya got the new files set up to play. She kept glancing at the clock while things loaded, watching as the time for her to move into the living room ticked closer and closer.

She wouldn't be able to stand it if she had to stop at this point. Even if it was only for a short break while she said good-bye to her mom and got the twins set up with their movie and their snacks, she couldn't. She was so, so close.

This had to work.

"Loaded," Alya announced as soon as the program was ready. "And here we go!"

She and Nino leaned forward as they watched the feed from the stairs on the screen. There were thirty seconds of anxious waiting, and then Hawkmoth's shoes appeared on the stairs. They headed down unevenly, revealing the red pants cuffs once again.

"Oh, he's shaken," Nino murmured, a grin evident in his voice. "Super shaken. Serves the asshole right."

Another step, more of the pants were revealed. They watched in anxious silence as the red pants gave way to a very familiar ivory jacket, then a striped necktie, and then Hawkmoth took one more step down the stairs, head hanging down as he made his way down the Eiffel Tower.

And much to Alya's surprise, she recognized the face that went with those atrocious fashion choices, even at this angle. And from Nino's sharp inhale, she knew that he had, too.

"Well," Nino managed after a minute of trying to find his words. "This is bad."

And with that, Alya could only agree.

[katscratches]

Nice Girls Don’t, & Other Lies I Was Taught (part 1)

-- a comparison of sex education between generations --

Disclaimer:

I don't claim any sort of sociological or psychological background. My sole qualification for writing about the impact of a lack of sex education is, frankly, that I've had a lot of sex. This has turned into more of a memoir than anything, is certainly more opinion than fact, and draws heavily on my own personal experiences. Names will be changed as needed or requested for the sake of privacy.

Part 1: The Boring Yet Obligatory Introduction

Now that Pride month has drawn to a close – yes, I know it's been a week already, but it's me, and you might have expected I'd come sliding in just after the last-minute, clothes askew and hair all mussed – I have been thinking quite a lot about how attitudes have changed regarding sex, gender, sexuality, sex education (all the fun stuff!) since I was a kid.

See, I have kids of my own. Teenagers, really. Two of them are even technically adults! I know, I know – I can't believe it either.  And the things they've learned in Canadian public schools over the last decade or so is a far cry from what I supposedly learned in 1980's Catholic school. They've learned about the mechanics of sex, the fluidity of gender, sexually transmitted infections, safe sex, etc. It's an eye-opener, let me tell you. The stuff they're taught now could fill volumes!

The stuff I learned wouldn't even make a satisfactory introductory paragraph.

When I originally conceived this idea, I was thinking of some sort of brief essay. But as I began actually sketching out ideas and outlines, so many memories surfaced, most of which I'd completely forgotten. I really felt they were too important to the subject as a whole for me to discard them, and this little idea grew. And grew. And before I knew it, this was turning into some kind of half-assed memoir.

This was not my original intention.

However, how can I possibly explain differences between my kids' sex education and my lack thereof, without also explaining how those very differences directly impacted my whole life?

I'd like to give you a little bit of background about myself, so you have some idea of where I'm coming from. I hope that's not too boring. I'm sorry if it is; I'm truly not a terribly exciting person. But the way I was raised and the people who raised me – and how they were raised -- do actually have a great deal to do with my attitudes toward all things sexual.

I was born in Toronto, Canada, in the summer of 1970 to a pair of rampantly horny teenagers – Catholic mum, Protestant dad. Birth control was not considered, clearly. And abortions were certainly not readily available. What was available was adoption, and I was made a ward of the Catholic Children's Aid Society quicker than you could spit. For a brief time, I lived with a foster family who had wanted to adopt me themselves, but decided against it as they already had eight kids of their own. Yes, EIGHT. They must have been very loving people; that's all I can say. Really loving. Like... all the time.

When I was roughly 3 months old, I was adopted by an older couple – they were both 40 years of age at the time of my adoption – who already had one natural child of their own, aged 4. My new parents fought a lot with each other when I was young. Most of the time it was verbal abuse, although there was one memorable time where my dad had slapped my mum across the face because she'd bitten his arm. I don't know what precipitated that fight. It may have been finances, as it was right around the time my dad had been laid off from work due to an economic depression in the early-mid 1970s. But who knows? They argued over nearly everything. They'd even once had an argument over Jello-O, which resulted on my dad deciding to sleep on the couch for the next twenty years! (I wish I was exaggerating that.)

Needless to say, they did not share a bedroom.

My brother and I used to pray for them to divorce. Although we always ended up having to take those prayers to Confession, what we really wanted was some peace and quiet. We were too young to know what went on behind closed bedroom doors, but we had an idea that maybe most parents at least shared a bed. All we could figure was that if they couldn't get along well enough to share a room, maybe they shouldn't be together at all.

Believe me when I say there was nothing sexual going on in that house, and I was about as innocent as you could get.

There were two main reasons my parents never divorced. First and foremost, they were Catholic. Divorce would have been a sin. The other reason was that it really never would have occurred to my mother at that time to want something different. Here's your bed; lie in it.

The Seventies must have been an interesting time, I think, with all the strangely mixed attitudes toward sex. On one hand, people were still dealing with the sexual hang-ups of earlier eras, where sex was barely talked about inside the bedroom, much less outside of it. But on the other hand, suddenly sex was everywhere. Feminism was booming. Homosexuality was beginning to be decriminalized. The book markets were fairly bursting with all manner of sexually liberating books – Erica Jong's Fear of Flying and Dr Alex Comfort's The Joy of Sex, for instance. And while Playboy had been around since the early Fifties, suddenly there was Playgirl, and the much more explicit Hustler. All of this led to the 1970s being referred to as a decade of sexual revolution.

Sex was finally ceasing to be such a taboo.

Not in my house. I grew up blissfully unaware of anything to do with physical love. I was a mostly happy kid, though very shy, and very sheltered. And as the youngest child out of all my cousins, there was literally no reason for me to ask about how babies were made, as there weren't any around.

This strangely sterile upbringing had a very lasting effect on me. To this day – no matter how many or what kind of things I've done --  I can't begin a conversation with my kids about anything to do with sex. I don't mean rude comments or dirty jokes – that's no issue – but an actual serious conversation? Not happening. If one of them brings up a topic, then they've broken the ice, and it's smooth sailing from there on in.

But I just can't bring myself to initiate it.

Notes:

At the present time, the outline I have for this has come to 18 chapters, including this introduction. I will try to update as often as I can, but I ask you to keep two things in mind. One, that I work full-time at a mentally exhausting job (although I do actually love it) and can't manage to get time to write every day, although I'm trying. Two, I am going to be moving house over the next few weeks, and I have an absolutely dreadful amount of packing still to do! Updates may come more regularly after I'm settled in my new home.

If you have any suggestions for topics you would like to see covered, please message me about it!

[thiefcat-niao]

Ending the Session (Chapter 2)

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh!   Characters/Ships: Gemshipping (Thief King Bakura/Ryou Bakura); Ryou Bakura, Thief King Bakura, Atem, Yugi Mutuo, Zorc Necrophades Rating: T Length: Chapter 2 / 3; 2400 words

Summary:

Into Ryou’s lonely apartment comes a spirit, an ancient power that speaks and manifests through the Ouija board kept beneath the bed. It calls itself Tou, and claims to be human. Ryou believes.

Read on AO3  Previous Chapter – Next Chapter (Coming Soon~)

Chapter Two: A King of Thieves 

For nearly a week, Ryou spoke to the spirit daily—sometimes twice daily. Yugi commented that Ryou seemed happier, when they met for coffee. Ryou shrugged off the comment, mumbling some half-truth about doing well in his classes. In reality, his homework hadn't been getting done with quite the level of diligence he usually held himself to.

Ryou hadn't learned much about how the spirit, Tou, had lived, but it didn't much matter. He had learned, in his estimation, many far more important things. Tou was pragmatic, for instance, and jaded, but had an unexpectedly lively sense of humor. At first Ryou had struggled to detect the spirit's jokes, through the toneless board. But he'd also grown far more attuned to the feel of Tou's presence, in his apartment, and fancied that he could sense Tou's general emotional state.

It worried Ryou that the spirit would grow suddenly tense, at times; would flicker with what appeared to be anxiety, or at least agitation, and usually request and end to the session. While Tou always offered fatigue as the explanation—and sometimes it was; Ryou could feel the weight of the spirit's exhaustion—those times were different. Ryou wondered what could cause a spirit like Tou to feel that way, and decided he had no basis with which to even form a hypothesis.

"i know whats keeping me here..." Tou had said, "and its not a thing you can help me deal with..." Ryou wished that that weren't true, but accepted it nevertheless, and so didn't pry.

Ryou stood, one evening, at the stove, preparing diner. The apartment was quiet. He was looking forward to speaking to Tou, later, but for the moment was quite enraptured in his cooking. The sizzling strips of meat made a pleasant crackling, and Ryou hummed along with the sound. They filled the apartment, too, with a heady aroma of meat and herbs, and Ryou bent in over the stove to assess whether or not he needed to add more of any particular seasoning before checking his rice on the rear burner.

The pepper grinder, on the far side of the counter, struck the ground with a jarring crash, and Ryou jumped. He looked around; heard nothing, save for the sizzling of beef in the pan. He glanced down at the pepper, rolling pensively across the floor.

"Tou...?"

The pepper grinder picked up speed suddenly—bumped into Ryou's foot. He smiled.

"Give me a second, okay?" Turning back to the stove, he lowered the heat; checked his rice again, and then scampered from the room. When he returned, he had the Ouija board tucked under his arm. He placed it beside the bloodied cutting board on his counter and opened it.

"Hello, Tou!"

"your dinner smells maddeningly good...” was the immediate reply, and Ryou chuckled.

"Is that all you wanted to tell me?"

"its important...” The pointer moved rapidly, a challenge to read, even for someone as practiced as Ryou. "youre a really good cook...”

"I didn't realize you could smell."

"i can hear and see and smell... i just cant touch or taste... no body yknow..."

"Fair enough."

"i want some of your dinner so badly i could die..."

"I wish you could join me," Ryou said, honestly.

There was a pause, and Ryou tilted his head; waited patiently. He could tell that the spirit hadn't left.

"thanks for talking to me...”

"Of course!" Ryou said, surprised. "I'm happy you want to talk to me, too!"

"its not so common for humans to contact us... not so common for them to be so open either... usually they get freaked out the first time they manage to make contact and then never do it again and usually theyre these stupid kids drunk or just real jerks not the likable type at all...

It was a long, rambling message, and Ryou waited for the pointer to still. Then he said, "I've used the board a lot. I've gotten responses, before, but never a spirit who's come back more than once or twice, let alone actually initiated the contact. It's really nice!"

Again, there was a pause, and when the pointer moved it did so rather slowly. "how do you know im not a bad spirit...”

"I don't, I guess, not for sure. But I don't think you are."

"when i told you i was called tou that was a bit of a lie... half a lie...”

"Oh?" Ryou tilted his head; waited for the spirit to continue.

"i was called touzokuo... king of thieves...”

"Oh. That's a cool title."

"cool you say cool...” The pointer moved so fast it almost jarred Ryou's hand free, and he jumped. "hahahahahaha... youre weird you know that... king of thieves is what they call a bad guy... i was a bad guy when i was alive...”

"That doesn't mean you're a bad spirit, now that you're not alive," Ryou said patiently, and the pointer fell still. There was the faint smell of something beginning to burn.

"youre a kind person to say that... but you should be careful... i had quite a reputation as not only a thief... but a killer..."

"I don't sense any blood-lust from you now, though," Ryou said, and the spirit was silent. "You aren't a bad spirit. I may not have any way to know, but I'm sure of it."

The pointer stayed still, for another moment, and then moved toward "goodbye." Ryou hurried to ask another question before it got there.

"What was your favorite food, when you were alive?!" he blurted—the first thing that came to his mind. To his relief, the pointer stilled.

"roast pig..." was the slow response, after a beat. Ryou smiled, relieved.

"Really? I'm more of a dessert person, myself, but savory foods can be really good. Especially when you're hungry."

"aha... thats very true..."

"Were you hungry, a lot? Is that why you became a thief?"

"dont try to make excuses for what i just told you..."

"I'm not," Ryou huffed, a bit indignant. "I just want to know you better. I want to understand you."

"i was hungry..." the thief said, after a moment. "i was angry too... i wanted to get back at the whole world..."

Ryou considered that, then said, "I wish you could join me, for supper."

"your foods starting to burn... you should get that... itd be tragic to ruin it..."

Ryou nodded, but as he went to leave the board, some near-physical force held his hand to the pointer.

"r-y-o-u" the spirit spelled out, with a force that surprised the human boy. "end the session... never leave without saying goodbye... youve used the board enough to know that..."

Ryou hesitated, then nodded. "Sorry. You're right, of course... Goodbye, Tou."

And the pointer, in response, moved to, "goodbye".

... ... ...

Ryou stifled a yawn; popped a piece for chocolate into his mouth, and took a swallow of coffee. The apartment felt unusually empty—devoid, in a rare moment, of spirits. And, though he knew he should sleep, Ryou had to take the opportunity to do research while he had the apartment to himself. So there he sat, at his desk, the light of the computer screen tinting his white hair light blue.

"King of Thieves... Thief King... Touzokuo..."

So far, he hadn't found any historical figures matching those titles, but they were sufficiently vague enough to render standard search engines all but useless.

It was three in the morning; Ryou took another sip of his coffee.

'Didn't he say... wait, that garbled message...'

Scrabbling through some papers beneath his bed, Ryou found the notebook he'd had during his first conversation with the spirit that called itself Touzokuo. He returned to his desk, then looked at the word that hadn't made any sense, at the time; the word he'd assumed to be some sort of spiritual typo: nedjem.

Ryou ate another piece of candy; it had a pressed brown sugar center inside of milk chocolate, and he let it melt in his mouth, feeling the graininess as he rubbed his tongue against the roof of his mouth. He typed "nedjem" into the computer, and hit enter.

At first, nothing interesting showed up—the search engine tried to autocorrect his query to needed. So he tried "meaning of word nedjem," and hit enter once again.

A... carob pod...?

Ryou's eyes widened slightly as he stared, surprised, at the hieroglyph that had appeared on his screen. He clicked on the first result, and read aloud, "Ancient Egyptian hieroglyph signifying 'sweet,' represented visually by a carob pod and thought to be said as 'nedjem.' One instance documents a doubling of the symbol, presumably read 'nedjemnedjem,' to indicate a pleasing concubine."

Ryou took a deep breath; tasted the sugar thick on his tongue, and took a drink of coffee to wash it down.

Ancient... Egypt...

It made sense, the more he thought about it. Though he'd passed off the spirit's reference to Anubis, Anubis being a fairly well-known symbol of death even in modern times, it made a lot more sense if he considered it as an influence of the spirit's original culture.

So what did I ask? Why "nedjem"?

He had asked what the spirit was called—Tou. He'd asked what the spirit was—h-u-m-a-n. He'd asked if the spirit had made contact with the living before—once or twice.

Ryou ate a marshmallowy piece of candy that got stuck in his teeth, and momentarily distracted himself getting it out with his tongue.

Then, it struck him.

"youre odd... different from others ive talked to..."

"Really? How so?"

"n-e-d-j-e-m"

Ryou's hands flew to his face, and he tried not to read into the odd answer, now that he knew what the long-extinct word meant. After a few more fruitless internet searches, he'd worked himself into enough of a frenzy that the mere thought of sleep was impossible. And, the internet having failed him, he reached for his cell phone and knocked his pencil holder off his desk in the attempt.

... ... ...

"Hnn..." Yugi Mutou raised his head as his cheerful ringtone cut through the silence. He dragged himself to the side of the bed, ignoring the bleary, angry muttering of the man sleeping beside him, and observed the time on the glowing screen—3:47—and the name. "Unh... Ryou-kun...? What is it...?"

"Yugi-kun! Ah, I'm so sorry, did I wake you?"

"Ryou-kun, it's almost four in the morning..." Yugi stifled a yawn; listened to his friend squeak and shuffle frantically on the other end of the line.

"I-I'm so sorry! I-I forgot, for a second... haha! I can call back tomorrow, if—"

"Ryou, I'm awake. What's up?" Yugi settled in, arms folded beneath his chin and atop his pillow.

"Ahh—! O-Okay, then... well... has Atem ever mentioned a legendary Thief King, from Ancient Egypt?"

"Thief King?" Yugi echoed, and was startled when his bed-partner bolted suddenly upright. "Atem! What's—?!"

"Who's on the phone, Yugi?"

"Great Ra..." Yugi breathed, and Ryou made a questioning sound. "Hey, Atem just woke up... Do you want to talk to him?"

"Oh Yugi, that would be wonderful! Are you sure he wouldn't mind?"

"Give me the phone, Yugi," Atem commanded, though his eyes were shadowed with sleep and his hair was sticking out to the side, as opposed to his usual vertical spikes.

"He wouldn't mind at all," Yugi told Ryou, and then held out the phone to his boyfriend.

"Oh! Atem! Sorry to bother, at this hour, I just... got all caught up, and—"

"Out with it, Bakura," Atem commanded, and Ryou squeaked. "What's this about the Thief King?"

"I just... well, you're an Egyptologist, after all, and that's where you're from, anyway, so I figured if anyone would know anything about—"

"Where did you hear about the Thief King, though?" Atem demanded, and Ryou swallowed audibly.

"So there is something..."

"Bakura, tell me where you heard that title," Atem said, his voice low and almost threatening. Yugi pulled worriedly at the sleeve of his nightshirt.

"I just... I mean... a friend. A friend mentioned him." Ryou's voice was shaking.

"Don't lie to me, Ryou Bakura."

"Atem, don't scare him," Yugi implored. "You know how he is..."

"O-Okay..." Ryou began hesitantly. "Y-You know how I like to play around with Ouija boards, occasionally...?"

Atem scrambled up; stumbled from the bed, much to Yugi's increased distress, and cursed as he tripped over a discarded piece of clothing. "You didn't. Tell me you're not going to say what I think you're about to say, Bakura. Tell me you don't have the spirit of the Thief King in your apartment."

"Well, not at this exact moment, but—"

"Great Ra!" Atem fumbled with his coat; threw it on over his nightclothes as Yugi began to follow him from the bed. "Okay, Bakura, I need you to leave that apartment immediately, do you understand? I'm coming to get you."

"Wait, what?!" Ryou spluttered, and Yugi called out his boyfriend's name in confusion. Atem ignored them both.

"This—this is why Ouija boards have a bad reputation, Ryou," Atem continued, hopping into his shoes. "You've gone and summoned something bad, now, something very bad, and—"

"Tou wouldn't hurt me!" Ryou objected suddenly, and Atem cursed.

"Listen to me, Ryou—the so-called Thief King is a demon-god. You know I was a pharaoh in a previous life, don't you? I lived during the same time as the Thief King."

"You knew him?!"

"I killed him, Bakura, when he tried to kill me! After he—!" Atem cut himself off; muttered a curse. "He isn't human—he's a demon, as I said, a demon called Zorc, who took on human form to kill the pharaoh—to kill me, and those I loved."

"That doesn't make any sense!" Ryou objected.

"He's deceiving you! He's the best damned liar I've ever met in any lifetime, believe me, and now he's lying to you! I'm coming over, okay? You stay on the phone with me now, and—Bastet!" Atem cursed.

Yugi—a few steps behind him, on the way to the door—yelped. "What?!"

"Little asshole hung up on me!" Atem fumed; handed Yugi his phone. "Try to call him. We're going to his apartment."

"Atem, is he... really in danger...?"

"Not unless he's done something really stupid like opened a portal..." Atem muttered, flinging the door open and flying down the apartment stairs, Yugi on his heals. "Gods... let him be safe... I can't lose another friend... not to that bastard Thief King... not in this lifetime..."

[lawful-evil-novelist]

Gotham Rogues Profile #1: Dr. Jonathan Ulysses Crane AKA The Scarecrow

The first part of a rather long series of profiles, both because I wanted to write them out and also because they were requested by @the-mighty-sorceress, @spacetabbi, @hugsforvillains, @michi0no, and @perfunctoryusernamecreation .  I hope you guys like it.

CATEGORY#1: BASIC STATS

Gender: Male

Grammatical Gender (Masculine, Feminine, Androgynous, etc.): Masculine with a very heavy tint of femininity.  His upbringing and appearance had an innate femininity imprinted on him.

Age: 27-30

Race, ethnicity, culture: Mixed race, half Irish, half Native American of the Crow tribe.  Though he was officially made a member of his father’s tribe in his early teens, much of the culture he ascribes to is that of Gotham and the Deep South.  He speaks Crow and attends tribal celebrations when he has the time and isn’t in Arkham.

Height: 6’3”

Body type: tall, long, and wiry.  There’s not much fat to him and while he has muscle, it’s mostly lean

Appearance: Jon is very pretty, in that his features and appearance are rather feminine and doll-like.  There are small “off” things about his features.  When he’s neutral or tired he looks fine, but his expressions can look quite daunting, especially his smile.  He has a gap between his two front teeth.

Jon’s hair is a mop of black curls, a trait he gets from his mother.  In his early years, it was cut rather short and managed, but a lack of care has turned it messy and untamed.

If there’s a defining, terrifying feature of Jon, it’s his eyes, they’re icy blue and piercing, it almost looks like he knows more than he’s been told.

Jon’s skin is copper, you can definitely see his native heritage in his skin color.

Jon has multiple tattoos, the most prominent being a tree growing from a heart on his back, a spade on his left forearm, and a bird behind his right ear.  Others include an octopus over his navel, a cursive note under his collarbone (Reads “Jasper-Maximillian-Zachariah”, the other three boys groomed by his third abuser), and a cross on the side of his right hand.  His childhood has left his body a web of scars, many of which are hidden by tattoos.

Where is he from? Jon was born and raised in a small Southern town in Georgia called Arlen, where he lived until he was 11 when his great-grandmother died. Afterwards, he was placed with his father in Columbia, South Carolina.  He was placed in a mental facility in Columbia when he was 14 after suffering a severe nervous breakdown, but was released at 16, and moved to Gotham to attend Gotham University.

CATEGORY #2: RELATIONSHIPS 

Family: Jonathan’s first known family was his great-grandmother, Mary Keeny. Mary was the product of a very prestigious Southern family and hated her great-grandson, an illegitimate, mixed-race boy.  Mary severely abused her great-grandson until her death when he was 11.

Jonathan’s mother, Karen, is largely uninterested in either of her children, especially not Jon.  Her treatment of him is mostly disgust and fear.  Jon greatly resembles his mother.

Jon’s father Gerald was the one to take him in after Mary’s death.  Though he cared for his son, he was extremely controlling and protective of Jon, not allowing him enough space.  He also ignored that Jon began suffering from bipolar disorder until Jon had a nervous breakdown at 14.  Gerald is currently in prison for child abuse.

Jon has a single half-sister, Adriane Jarvis, who was taken from Karen by their grandmother.  Adriane has a relatively healthy relationship with Jonathan, though it is slightly damaged by their large age gap (Adriane is 10) and Jon’s mental illness.

Jon’s maternal grandmother, Marion Keeny, is the closest thing teenage Jon ever had to a maternal figure.  She and Jonathan have the closest relationship of anyone on his maternal side.

Lyndon Keeny is Jonathan’s great-great-uncle, Mary Keeny’s “wayward” brother.  He and Jon seldom meet face to face because he lives in Europe, but their relationship is healthy enough that they keep in touch.

Jon’s paternal grandfather, Chayton, is the closest thing Jon has to a proper father figure.  He was Jon’s major teacher when it came to learning about Crow culture and language.

Jon’s paternal grandmother, Ruth, is the closest Jon will probably ever get to a proper grandmother.  She’s protective of him but nurturing.  She isn’t controlling and loves cooking for her very thin grandson.  She also has a concealed firearm and has 100% threatened Batman with it.

Friends: Jon’s closest friend is Harley Quinn, they’ve known each other since college and even dated for two years (and then again later while both were dating the Joker).  Their relationship is casual, comfortable, and full of very bad puns, sarcasm, inside jokes (Peach Pie Moonshine is a phrase that will send them both into a laughing fit), and dirty humor.

Jon grew up with Charlie McIntyre and Hartley Rathaway, both are rather close friends and Jon and Hartley briefly dated when both were teenagers.  Jon visits both regularly.

Jon’s closest male friends are Jervis Tetch, Edward Nygma, and Maxwell Mavis.  The three pull regular heists together and Jon has had an on-off romantic relationship with Edward.

Jon’s tensest friendship is with Pamela Isley. The two became friends in college, and even then, were a little at odds.  Pamela’s opinions strain their relationship on occasion, as does Jon’s relationship with Harley, especially before Pamela and Harley begin dating. While not jealous of Jon, Pamela is a little sour that Jon didn’t defend Harley enough while dating Joker.

The three other boys abused with Jon by Hugo Strange, Jasper Curtis (6 years younger), Maximillian Zeus (2 years younger), and Zachariah Bloom (4 years younger), are all still friends with him, they’ve formed a brotherly relationship. Jon, being the eldest, watches all three carefully and does his best to make sure they don’t get hurt or in any danger.

Jon drinks regularly with Waylon Jones and Leonard Snart, he’s also slept with both.

Jon has become good friends with Timothy Drake, but the relationship has become more brotherlike than anything else.  Much of the relationship is Jon keeping Tim from drinking coffee concoctions to stay awake.

Jason Todd has befriended Jon because Jon saved his life at least four times, probably more.

Bane, Angelo Sanchez, has formed a tense sort of friendship with Jonathan while trying to get clean.  Bane refers to Jon alternately as lobo, meaning wolf, or mestizo, referring to Jon’s mixed heritage.  Jon also works for his cartel regularly.

Jon and Selina became friends early in Jon’s criminal career, they’re still rather close.

CATEGORY #3: THE SEXY STUFF

Sexual orientation: Pansexual

What is he attracted to?: Jon has relatively variable preferences, but in general he’s very focused on eyes, he loves them.  Despite his ridiculous height he is extremely attracted to people who are taller than him.  Being shorter clearly isn’t a dealbreaker though.  One of the more interesting notes is that Jon prefers submissive men and dominant women.  He is rather attracted to any kind of intelligence, be it emotional, logical, etc., and likes small traits like, for instance, Edward listing riddles when he’s nervous.  Jon also enjoys people who have a sense of humor.

Sexual experience: While Jon’s initial sexual experience was negative, Jon is very comfortable, perhaps a little too comfortable, with sex.  Jon has had multiple sexual partners of all genders.

Romantic experience: Jon has had a number of romantic relationships alongside sexual partners.  His most prominent and long lasting being with Harley and Edward.  Jon’s romantic experience can be a bit trying though, he has a hard time trusting people because of his past.

CATEGORY #4: SKILLS

Skills: Jon is extremely intelligent and intuitive, being able to read people and situations very easily.  He’s skilled at mimicking voices both speaking and singing, can play violin and piano, and is multilingual (speaks French, Latin, Ancient Greek, Crow, and ASL). Despite being unable to shoot a handgun, Jon has two civilian sharpshooting medals for his ability to shoot a hunting rifle.  He’s also skilled with most knives and, while not strong or disciplined enough to hold his own against a trained opponent, knows enough to overpower larger or stronger opponents in a fight (provided said opponent does not have any other considerable advantage, Jon can’t beat someone who can literally break his arm by biting it), both skills were taught to him by Bane and Selina.  Jon is largely immune to most toxins due to extensive fear toxin testing on himself and regularly being close proximity to Pamela Isley.  As an added note, Jon is hypermobile, making him unusually flexible.

Occupation/schooling: Jon has a PhD in psychology gained at 25 (equaling out to 9 years of schooling).  He also has a bachelor’s degree in biochemistry.  Before becoming a major criminal in Gotham he taught psychology at Gotham University, also acting as a consultant for the GCPD.  Despite regularly being incarcerated at Arkham Mental Facilities, he also consults there as a patient.

Hobbies: Reading is Jon’s main hobby, though he’s obsessed with fear and often studies it whenever he can, he’s fond of cooking, particularly baking, and loves horror and slasher films, Jon also loves playing the violin.

CATEGORY #5: PERSONALITY & CHARACTER

Introvert or extrovert? Definite introvert, though he can occasionally come off as extroverted from his mannerisms.

Strengths: Jonathan is intuitive and has a strong sense of empathy, he can easily connect to people and their emotional state (the problem is he doesn’t give two shits about either, unrelated to the empathy part), and also has a good skill in using both to his advantage.  Jon can come off as misleading, he feigns sympathy well and is skilled at playing the manipulator, making him excellent at drawing people in. He’s also learned how to use his looks as a draw (basically how to use sex appeal as a weapon) and has cultivated this as a strength.  That said, when he comes across a person he cares about, he’ll happily lay his life down for them and is a very loving, while a touch overprotective, friend.

Weaknesses: Jon is reckless, often putting his life in danger for thrills or fun. He can also be very cruel and vindictive.  His lack of sympathy and high empathy makes him a very skilled and calculating manipulator, but makes him less good at being trustworthy or kind to strangers. Jon also lacks much trust in others, being quick to withdraw his trust if it’s broken.  Jon’s near-obsession with control can make him erratic if things aren’t going his way.  Jon also drinks heavily, barely sleeps, and eats sporadically.

Goals/dreams/aspirations: Jonathan’s goal, above all others, is to be able to push past fear, to not be afraid of anything.

Beliefs/affiliations: Jonathan was raised Catholic by his great-grandmother, who was very radical and practiced flagellation.  Jonathan was taught this form of religion, but the flagellation was ended with his father, and the nurses at the Columbia Mental Hospital taught Jonathan a much gentler form of Catholicism to help him cope with his bipolar disorder. Jonathan is still a practicing Catholic.

Beyond his religion, Jonathan values heavily independence and honesty, as well as loyalty.  While he is rather cruel, he has a very high opinion of people who are kind regardless of their circumstances (Jon has a massive amount of respect for Becky Albright for both her kindness and adherence to his other values).

Fears: Jonathan has already confronted many of his fears in the past. His most principle fear is losing his sovereignty and free will.  He’s been exploited, abused, and groomed by a man whose motives were extremely disturbing and never wants to go back to that time again.  He reacts very poorly when people attempt to manipulate him and has been known to stab people who touch him without asking.

Jonathan also fears getting attached to people, mainly because soon after befriending Pamela she was abused by Woodrue.

Insecurities: Though Jonathan is relatively attractive and is aware of this, he is insecure about many aspects of it.  His feminine and often unsettling features were a source of ridicule for him as a child, and he was often the subject of cruel teasing over his resemblance to a doll and his unnerving features, as well as his mixed heritage.

He heavily underestimates his own ability to handle situations, often making him easy to pass over.

What would he die for? People he cares deeply about like Harley, his family (even members he hates like his parents), abuse victims.

[taeguboi]

“Can’t Buy Me, Love” PART 1 Jungkook x Reader Angst / Fluff

I added gifs, similarly to my “Goddammit, Hoseok!” fiction based on another dream [I think I’m a bit too deep into the k-pop fandom now, having solid dreams about idols but ah well]. Though this one turned out to be way longer in word count than expected so it’s in 2 parts whilst I get to the ending!

Fiction Masterlist // Reactions Masterlist - Requests always open

Jeon Jeongguk. He’s a beautiful man. You have to sometimes try excuse and justify yourself for being, what can only be referred to as, shallow.

But you've always been a sucker for pretty people; it's probably the reason you've always managed to utter the courage to let your feelings be known to the targets of your desires. Sure, it's a little unconventional, even nowadays, for a girl to ask the guy out, but it anything otherwise just isn't you. You're just not a fan of suppressing emotions and bowing down to over-oppression.

You first saw him from across a crowded room, just like a dream. It was cliché and surreal, and you were drawn in. You knew you should have known better than to fall for looks, but… Well actually, there was something in the expression of his features that suggested a kind person inside and out.

Each time his glistening brown eyes occasionally glanced your way that day, you felt energized.

The way he stood with grandeur made you weak at the knees with his broad shoulders and strong arms that seemed like they were about to break out of that shirt...

When he scrunched up his nose when he let out an infectious laugh paired with a bright smile, you felt a connection, even though you weren't even in the conversation… You couldn't even hear the conversation, but it felt like you were right next to him.

So then you started imagining what it would have been like. What would it have been like, after taking in his perfect features from all the way over there, if it was you to walk over to him and have that comfortable grip on his arm. If you were the one who got to openly laugh at those jokes you couldn't hear right now. If you were… that bitch.

Yep, of course he was taken. And there was nothing you could do about it; look how happy he is.

The best ones are always taken.

It was either fortune or disaster, the day he walked into your place of work, sporting one of the company shirts. It amazed you why anyone with his appearance aura would want to go into retail, but this was happening.

You figured it’d only be a matter of time before they promote him from serving and stocking into modelling the clothes…

“Y/n, this is Jeongguk, and I have appointed you to train him” your manager tells you.

The training, initially speaking, should be straightforward. Just show him the ropes and he can get started independently in no time.

But…

“Oh dammit!” you exclaim as you find yourself dropping change everywhere upon serving a customer… for the fifth time today…

Jesus Christ, he must think I'm stupid… Okay, maybe I am when his stupid cute face and firm muscles are literally being shoved in my face…

You know you're being an embarrassment to yourself, but it’s involuntary how you keep dropping things with weak hands and shaking slightly each time he brushes past you to help stock the rails.

The same shit happens even a few weeks later, when you really should have gotten used to Jeongguk’s presence by now. Today is a particularly weak day for you; the weather is humid and it doesn't help how the store can be poorly ventilated in some areas…

Now, it's not like you've been flirting as such with this guy, but you've most definitely been dropping subtle hints in those moments that you do manage to compose yourself. There's even been a few times where you'll jest

“I bet tonight's date can't accidentally knock over a ton of boxes with skill like I can…”

“She's cute, but she isn't me. But I'm sure you're just having your freedom whilst you're getting round to that.”

Ignore the caption in the gif 

Okay, so they're a bit stronger than subtle hints, more rejected requests of a date that have become quite infamous now, but he actually talks to you about personal matters quite a lot, and likewise on your part. You consider that this is probably because it can be generally easier to talk to someone less familiar about the difficulties in life, but your hopeless self just falls a little deeper with each experience he shares with you.

You were right, you know. About his features indicating a kind personality. He seems almost too perfect.

Perhaps you aren't thinking straight, but you realize today that you haven't actually indicated your romantic status to him… Besides, you haven't seen (a seriously considered, but inevitably discarded character from the beloved series of children's books, of course,) Little Miss Tart Face around for a while. Of course, it could just mean he's separating personal and professional life quite well, but in your mesmerization of him, you catch that glint of hope.

So you leave him your number upon scooting out of your chair after having coffee together and leave it at that.

The shift that follows is intense, or at least it feels that way to you. Is he going to say anything about the number? What meaning has he taken from it?

“Here’s £2.01 change. Enjoy the rest of your day” you smile to your customer.

The last customer of the day, it would appear as you glance at your watch to read 17:54.

It’s strange how many strangers you have to smile to. Pleasantries mean bugger all when you have a real reason to smile.

“I have a date on Saturday” Jeongguk tells you abruptly.

“Dammit” you mumble under your breath, hoping he didn't hear that moment of frustration.

But in your mind, you're not quite willing to give up just yet, no. Y/n always puts up something of a fight, at least a mental debate, before letting go of something.

A date? He didn't say with whom? Could this be a different girl from the last time? Of course, he can get whoever he wants. Which is probably girls a lot less clumsy and boisterous than me, let's be honest… The basic bitches probably just lead him on and take him for a meal ticket and don't see what I see...

“I'll keep the number though,” he smiles. “It might be useful some time.”

Okay, a little heartbreaking. ‘It might be useful some time’ doesn't exactly scream promise of even a remote interest… Of course, the date with another girl is the biggest signal, but the fact that he said it only might be useful is a bit shattering. Might suggests that it's an unlikely event to happen, that he would need you. Might suggests that only when he's being held at gunpoint and being demanded to give a ransom, only then he could need you…

Okay y/n, you're over thinking this...

...

He probably works out enough to fight his way out of a situation like that.

Goddammit he’s handsome.

This craziness has to stop. You're chasing something travelling faster than your maximum speed. Life is too short to dwell on a guy who doesn't give you the time of day, at least not romantically.

You’re pretty good at moving on. You know that if you don't, then what else can you do with yourself? All you can do it enjoy life.

And you do for a couple of months.

You still talk regularly to Jeongguk, but you pay much less attention to the little things now.

Yet it became increasingly difficult not to notice how the glimmer in his eyes had disappeared recently. Come to think of it, his recounts of dates were becoming less consistent. Lately, it was a different girl each time as opposed to the same one about three or four times before he concluded it wasn't working out. Sometimes there would be a few weeks before the next one. Sometimes it would be the very next day. Maybe he just became better at reading people. Maybe his perspective had changed with experience.

But more importantly, maybe it was all getting him down.

“It was awful, y/n. She clearly just saw me as a one night stand, even despite me pulling out all the stops for her. I treated her to a romantic film and payed for the ridiculously over priced popcorn there… A meal at the finest restaurant I know... I guess it felt right at the time to take her home and… She just left in the morning…” he sighs, head in his hands, and it would seem his eyes are watering.

You've seen him rant and vent before but this is something else.

And this something else broke your heart too.

He left it for a whole month. Not a single chat about a date, not even a spark of interest as a cute girl would arrive at his til to make a purchase.

In your mind, you're half joking, half serious, when you wonder

Is he broken?

At this point, you and Jeongguk have established a relationship on which you make slightly harsh but meaningless jokes about each other, so it’s really just like any other day when you notice him pouting and you walk past him down the shop aisle

“Jeongguk, I know we're at work but you could at least smile when I'm around”

Admittedly, your comments hold a somewhat large percentage of arrogance at times, but it's become your way of holding back on expressing directly how you wish he felt about you. Y/n can be dumb enough to fall for a guy, but never to appear desperate or embarrass herself about him.

“Sorry, yeah” is all he replies with a forced smile. This is odd. Usually it's some fast paced witty comment right back at you…

Again, I didn’t pick that gif for the caption hahahaha

“Seriously, if you're feeling that depressed, you should take another girl out again” you suggest, kind of bored of seeing him become a bit more and more lame and tragic each day. Yes, you still scream inside that you're right in front of him, but you don't want to see this. Like you said, in your mind around the time of Jeongguk’s a hundreth-and-something date; people have to just get on with life.

“Oh yeah, like who? I don't even go out once a week anymore, it's hardly enough to meet new people…”

“Yeah I suppose it is hard when you've dated almost half the town” you retort, only saying almost half because the other half are guys.

“Will you just leave it, okay?” he snaps, desperately trying to get on with stock taking.

After a moment of silence, you continue on the topic anyway “No. I don't think I will leave it. Just go do something about your mood; I hate seeing people miserable and unwilling to help themselves.”

“I hate it when you're right…”

A few hours later at lunch break, you sit at the usual table at the usual coffee shop next door to your workplace. You take in the view you get from looking through the window to see hundreds of people just getting on with their own lives, each with a story to tell. You wonder how many of the girls that pass you have had Jeongguk in theirs…

“I've got it” Jeongguk tells you, slamming his cup of coffee to go on the table in a spot right in front of you, more than enough to make you lose your train of thought.

“Huh?” is all you can question as he sits opposite you.

“I need to find a different type of person to take out.”

“Different type of person? Ah, so you're going to try guys!” you joke, taking in a sip of coffee.

“Look I'm serious! I know what my problem is now! I always just go for girls who just stand there looking pretty and feign politeness for free things… So I need someone with a bit more… I don't know, like umph to them? A bit more bold and feisty…”

As he babbles on, you feel something again. He looks even more handsome when he talks about something with a bit of passion and courage. His eyes are lighting up with each time he gives you an adjective of the type of girl he’s planning to go for. It’s like he's the sun as you eyes take in his bright expressions and you can return the same energy and cheerfulness that he gives with his words and gestures. So much so that you almost believe he could finally notice you.

“I need someone like…”

“Someone like me.”

“Yeah, someone like you.”

Almost.

You have got to be kidding me.

So when Jeongguk gave you his little lecture, he might as well have just been talking to any old stranger down the street, because when he said someone like you, he really did mean only like you, as in similar to you.

“I've asked y/f/n out” he tells you cheerily on the way out as you close the shop.

Great.

Sometimes, it can be harder to pick yourself back up after falling in the same place several times. You know you have to do it, but it’s a slower process since all you can recall is the times when you fell back down from an all time high and you gained more injuries. So you try to ignore anything you feel about Jeongguk being more interested in y/f/n, but you don't lift your spirits too high so there is less of a fall next time.

You've just come to accept that there's going to be another fall.

Thank goodness for the sake of your little broken heart that it all shatters to pieces.

“It’s got to be me, not them.”

“What are you rambling on about Jeongguk?”

The two of you are in the storage room on a very unbusy Sunday morning, seated on the most sturdy boxes you could find next to one another.

“Turns out y/f/n wasn't looking for the same thing as I was -- Well I know I most definitely wasn't looking to fuck another person…”

You wonder why you still comfort him when you could just walk away and spare yourself from any more torture but…

“Crap, really? Did she actually…?...”

“Right there round the alley of the club… Fuck’s sake, why did I take her out to a club?!” he angrily questions with a clenched fist.

“Wow, class…” you comment, trying not to take his stupid sorry ass in for a hug right now.

She may have hurt him, but you've been hurt too

“Ugh, what's the use? I don't even know if I really cared that much… I just don't know what to feel about anyone anymore.”

Neither do I.

“Actually, d’ya know what?” you begin, bringing yourself to your feet.

Fuck it. This is it. If it doesn't happen this time, then I'll accept that it never will. I've been holding back; it's so unlike me. But it means he's changed me. It’s worth one. last. try.

“What?” he enquires.

“I'm fed up of hearing about you spending all your work money on girls who take it without a second thought - and don't deny the spending part Jeongguk, I've seen the receipts for watches and necklaces and expensive wines stuffed in your pockets… I want to take you out for a date. We split the bill, we have meaningful conversation, see whatever movie you want to see, and at the end of the evening, you know I won't be expecting anything more. I'm probably really in over my head with the amount of months I've been hardly anything but obvious and still gone unnoticed, but… what d’ya say?”

“Yes.”

“Wait, really?”

“You're right y/n. It's time to stop being taken for everything I've got.”

Read PART 2 HERE