#and simply name each document 'notes' until i have actual text | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

artaefact · 4 years ago

Text

a letter in roses.

—wordcount: 8k+

—genre: FLUFF, romance, CEO au, valentine’s day au, husband!taehyung

—pairing: kim taehyung x f reader ft. florist!hobi, baker!jimin & ???!jk

—rating: 18+

—warnings: cheesy fluff, taehyung wants the tea, taehyung is kinda a hazard in the kitchen, yeontan being a little rascal, suggestive themes, swearings

—summary: Since it’s the first time celebrating Valentine’s Day with you as his wife, Taehyung goes the extra mile of preparing something special for you. After all, he has managed to run a billion-dollar worth company. So, preparing handmade delicacies should be simple enough, right?

author’s note: this is part of the bangtan pastries collab hosted by @suhdays !! AND ALSO ____ and [Name] are two different ocs so hopefully it’s not confusing !! happy reading everyone 💖

Valentine's Day. The day where people spend time with their loved ones, either going out to celebrate or spending quality time together at home. Just anything to bring a smile to their loved ones' faces.

Taehyung used to question this annual occasion—a lot. What is truly the purpose of this day? Don't you have to make your loved ones happy all the time? What difference does it make to celebrate it on this "special" day and on a typical day? Or, in other words, it was a complete waste of time and energy—is what he used to say.

For many years, Taehyung's only companions on this day are paperwork, meetings, and... more paperwork. So, it's not surprising how disinterested he is at the thought of celebrating Valentine's Day.

But today, he barely can stifle his smile and contain his excitement throughout the morning conference. The minute when the meeting ends, he strides out of the room and heads straight back home.

His employees had stared at him in awe after he announced that everyone can leave work early today. Everyone wonders what has gotten Kim Taehyung so excited on Valentine's Day until they remember that he is, now, officially a husband. Taehyung no longer frequently locks himself in his office until past midnight dealing with documents and phone calls. Not when you're waiting for him at home. Sometimes he'd even cut his work hours short if he deems himself deserving just to see you faster.

Everyone can see how utterly in love the boss is with his wife. Just the mention of your name is enough to grace his usual stern expression with a soft smile.

So, it's not surprising that an annoyed sigh emits from Taehyung's lips when his work phone dings just as he steps out of the elevator on his penthouse floor. Taking out his phone, he reads an urgent message that some part of the meeting's presentation details have not been mentioned to him earlier. For once, Taehyung wishes work can give him a break. Today is supposed to be a special day, after all.

Shoving his phone back into his pocket, Taehyung walks into his home. Soft jazzy music plays from the living room, along with the tinge of coffee fragrance wafting in the air, ebbing his growing annoyance away. He takes off his dress shoes before entering even further, knowing full well how his wife would make him clean up if he stains the Persian rug you received as a wedding gift. With a pair of home slippers covering his feet, he emerges from the front hallway to the living room as he shrugs off his navy pinstripe suit jacket and loosens his tie.

Taehyung hears the rapid padding of pawsteps first as a fluffy friend appears out of the kitchen, greeting Taehyung with a woof and an excited wag of his tail, scampering to his owner. Smiling, Taehyung crouches to give Yeontan a backrub as the pomeranian revels at the affection.

After a few moments, he walks to the kitchen—Yeontan still excitedly following—where the smell of coffee grows stronger. He finds you sipping on your morning coffee and scrolling through your tablet—perhaps, reading the latest news—as you sit on the bar table of the kitchen.

Sensing his presence, your head turns to the doorway. “Hey, you're back.”

“Mhmm… Finished my meetings earlier today.” He closes the distance, giving you a kiss on the cheek. “You ate breakfast already?”

You nod. “Have you?” He shakes his head. “You go change, I'll whip up something for you.” You place your tablet down on the counter. “Are toasts and eggs, okay?”

He nods in response.

Standing up from the barstool, you are about to make your way to the counter when your husband stops you. “You haven't given me a kiss ever since I've arrived back home.” He pouts, arms circling your waist to keep you still.

You chuckle at his antics. Cupping his face between your hands, you place a chaste kiss on his lips. “There.”

“More please.” And you comply, placing another, and another…

You move your hands down, placing it on his chest when he releases his hold on your waist, cupping your face, finally giving you a deep kiss. Your heart is on the verge of bursting at the touch of his lips. Granted, you both shared kisses so many times, but each and every single one never fails to spread warmth in your chest. And you love to see his dazed expression or his bright smile afterwards.

After a few moments, you pull away, grinning. “Okay, go change.” Your smile so bright Taehyung just can't get enough as he still clings to you. “I have an appointment today before our dinner date.”

Taehyung raises a brow, now realising that you're dressed up. “Where might you be going?”

You simply poke his nose with a secretive grin. He pouts at your lack of response, watching you move behind the counter. You take out two slices of bread—putting them in the toaster—and eggs from the fridge.

With a soft smile on his face, Taehyung goes to the bedroom and freshens up, quickly changing to his usual home attire. He comes back to the kitchen donning a white shirt and a pair of shorts, finding you already setting up the plate on the counter.

He stops at your side, watching you place the scrambled eggs near the toast. Then the moment you're done, he wraps his arms around your shoulders.

“What's gotten into you today?”

“Can't I shower my wife with love?” He nuzzles his nose to the crook of your neck.

You laugh softly. “Alright, alright. Now, let me just—” You place the plate on the counter, Taehyung still embracing you. “—put this. And… Do you want strawberry juice?”

He nods eagerly. You open the fridge (yes, with Taehyung is still clinging to you) and take out the cut-up frozen strawberries before placing them in the blender and pouring some water.

“Go eat, baby.” You face him after turning the blender on. “I'll be with you in a minute.”

Taehyung gives you a kiss on the cheek then moves to sit on the bar table where you have placed his breakfast. After you place a glass of strawberry juice near him, you sit next to him.

“What are your plans for today?” You ask, resting your chin on one hand.

“Hmm…” He sits straighter, swallowing the food in his mouth. With a teasing smirk, he faces you. “Well, I was planning to spend the whole day with my lovely wife. But unfortunately, I can't do that until our dinner date.”

“Should I cancel my appointments today…?” You actually look worried, and Taehyung blinks.

“No!” He says almost too quickly. “I mean— It's okay, really. We'll have our dinner date. Plus, I have another meeting to attend to soon.”

“Thought you said you were done with work today?”

“Something else came up,” Taehyung sighs in annoyance, remembering the text he received earlier from one of his employees. “I have to make a few calls. But I wouldn't miss our first Valentine dinner date after our marriage.”

You chuckle. “Alright, I should call taxi—”

Taehyung stops you. “Y/N, you know you can use my chauffeur, right?”

“The taxi's fine—” You yelp as Taehyung tugs you close to him, causing you to nearly sliding off from your seat. Placing your hands on your husband's broad shoulders, you steady yourself.

“Love, call my chauffeur, hmm?” His voice turns low, and you fight back a shiver. “I know you're still getting used to this—” He motions towards the whole penthouse. “—but at least, let me make it easier for you today, yeah?”

Inhaling a sharp breath, you nod. “O-Okay.”

A sly grin decorates his pretty lips at your agreement. “Good.” Straightening yourself, you climb down the stool. Taehyung places a chaste kiss on your lips, and you are still in a daze at the sudden change of his demeanour. You walk out of the kitchen and reach the end of the hallway. While putting on your shoes, his face peeking from the living room, and he pipes, “Don't be late for dinner!”

When the front door closes, you place a hand on your chest — on top of your still pounding heart. You let out a breath, and a smile curls up on the corner of your lips.

I swear he's going to be the death of me.

After you leave, Taehyung is left alone to his own devices. He goes to his office space with Yeontan following on his trail. Turning his laptop on, he glares at the screen. Work seems to follow him wherever and whenever despite having worked his ass off. But he’ll ensure that nothing will ruin your date night today.

Taking a deep breath, he turns on his camera, not even bothering to change out of his home attire. Taehyung’s expressions have said it all as one of his company’s branch managers who messaged him fidgets on the screen under his stare.

“What else are we missing?” His voice like the calm before the storm. “I thought the meeting earlier today has been concluded.”

“I forgot that there are some things that…” The manager rambles on, and Taehyung can sense a headache looming.

Taehyung rubs his temple as the manager finishes prattling. Sitting up straighter, he advises, “I’m going to say this only once, you work in this position to oversee the marketing branch of my company. It is your job to ensure that all the little details for today’s meeting have been presented. So, this type of incident will not happen again. Do I make myself clear?”

The manager nods rapidly.

“Good,” Taehyung leans back on his leather chair. “Now, is that all?”

Again, the manager nods.

Finally.

After ending the call and answering a few more emails, Taehyung emerges out of the office room and plops down the couch with Yeontan in his arms. He stretches his neck to the right and left, ear to his shoulder. The pomeranian rests comfortably against his chest until the doorbell rings, surprising the poor dog.

Ah, Taehyung almost forgot. He coos at the stunned dog, a light giggle escaping his lips before putting Yeontan on the dog bed, right beside the living room’s couch. “Stay, I’ll be back.” Then he walks to the door, peeking through the peephole as a grin appears on his face. Opening the door, Jimin and Jungkook pop in with smiles on their faces.

“Hey man, long time no see.” Jimin wraps his arms around Taehyung, patting his back. “How’s it going?”

“It’s rare for you to call us nowadays,” Jungkook comments after giving Tae a hug as well.

“Yeah, I’ve been working my ass off.” Taehyung sighs and locks the door.

“Where’s Y/N?” Jimin emerges out of the hallway, and he crouches as Yeontan approaches him in the living room. “Hey, buddy. Long time no see.”

“What the hell? He’s grown so much, hyung.” Jungkook follows suit, petting the pomeranian and letting out the giggle when Yeontan playfully licks him.

Taehyung clears his throat. “Y/N is out for an appointment, and you guys need to help me.”

“Right,” Jimin stands up, recalling the text Taehyung sent him a few days ago. “So, I think we can finish in around three hours? It’s only six pastries—”

“One hundred forty three,” Taehyung corrects.

Silence.

Jimin blinks rapidly, processing his friend’s words. “Are you insane? We’ll need so much ingredients for that, and I’m guessing not even your gigantic kitchen can store—”

As if on cue, the doorbell rings again.

“Ah, it has arrived,” Taehyung muses, opening the door once more to reveal a delivery man with a cart full of packed grocery ingredients.

“Delivery for Mr Kim.”

“That would be me.” Taehyung signs the tablet before letting the delivery man unload the boxes. After a few minutes, the boxes are stacked near the hallway. Taehyung turns to his friends, “So, should we start?”

“Wait, are you seriously planning on baking a hundred forty three pastries?” Jimin’s expression still shows none other than horror. “That’s impossible.”

“But…”

“Nope,” Jimin shakes his head. “That won’t work. Not even if we have more people to help.” Taehyung’s shoulders noticeably droop. Jimin puts a comforting hand on Taehyung’s shoulder and adds, “Look, we can opt for a lesser number of pastries and arrange them. It’ll look great! Plus, knowing your extra ass, I bet you still have something else planned.”

Pursing his lips, Taehyung mumbles, “Well, you’re not wrong.”

“So, we’re settled,” Jimin lets out a relieved sigh.

There’s a funny look on Jungkook’s face as he watches the whole scene unfold. Taehyung raises a brow at the younger one, who responds with a shake of his head. “I thought you lost your mind, hyung. As someone who runs a billionaire company, I thought the stress is finally getting to you.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes before he realises, “Wait, aren’t you working somewhere else now?”

“Today’s an off day for me,” Jungkook shrugs, walking alongside Taehyung to the kitchen. “So, I figured after knowing Jimin hyung is coming here, I’d tag along.”

“I see.” Taehyung sets the sack of apples on the floor beside the main kitchen counter. Jimin is already rummaging through the kitchen for empty bowls to place the necessary ingredients for the pastries. Meanwhile, Yeontan sniffs the sack of apples curiously, nudging it when the apples tumble down, scattering on the floor.

Putting the bags of cinnamon and sugar on the marble counter, Jungkook mutters, “...And now, I’m already regretting.”

✧༺♡༻∞ ∞༺♡༻✧

You watch the snow-covered trees and sidewalks in a passing blur as Taehyung’s chauffeur drives you to the town’s famous flower shop. After turning to the familiar corner of the street, a few minutes later, you arrive.

Tightening your coat tighter to yourself, you climb out of the car, taking your handbag along with you. As soon as you go through the glass door, the owner greets you. “Y/N! You’re finally here!”

“Hobi!” You greet him in a friendly hug. “How have you been? You look great!”

“I’ve been good!” He motions for you to sit on the chair at the front counter. “Just finished arranging all the bouquets for today, and finally have some peace and quiet until the truck returns, then I have to load the second batch of bouquets.”

“You sure having a busy day.” You sit on the wooden chair. “Is ____ here already?”

He shakes his head, but his eyes are filled with mirth. “She’ll come visit later, she has something to do now. So, let’s start on your thing first.”

“Oh! Did you get it?”

Hoseok nods at your question, moving back behind the cashier counter, and crouches down as he rummages through his things. “Here,” he hands you a miniature of a cherry blossom tree inside a small sealed plastic.

Your eyes light up. “Hobi, it’s perfect!”

He smiles at your reaction. “What are you going to use it for?”

“For this.” You take out an empty snow globe from your bag. “It fits perfectly.”

“Well, you did insist for me to get the right measurements.” He chuckles, watching curiously as you unseal the plastic to take out the cherry blossom tree. “If it wasn’t for my fiancé, I would’ve gotten it wrong. She literally measured it down to precision.”

You laugh, placing the tree on the uncapped snow globe. “That’s what I love about her.”

“Me too,” he giggles before clearing his throat, still smiling. “And what bouquet would you like?”

“It’s for Tae. So...”

“Hmm…” Hoseok purses his lips. “Usually, people would go for roses, tulips, and carnations for Valentine’s Day.”

You ponder for a moment, weighing your options for the perfect bouquet for your husband. “I’ll go with carnations, roses, and baby’s breath.” Hoseok nods, eyes calculating as if picturing the bouquet you’d like.

“Is it okay if I use your counter for a while to assemble this?” You point at the snow globe and miniature on the counter.

“Sure~” Hoseok chirps, striding to the buckets of flowers a few steps away.

Then as if on cue, the front door opens. “I hope I’m not late…” ____ smiles at the sight of you, then her gaze shifts to her fiancé briefly, whose eyes are already on her. “I bring the supplies,” she places a bag of arts and craft supplies you requested in front of you.

“Thank you!” You beam, excitedly giving her a hug before rummaging through the bag. “You really brought everything.”

“No problem.” She ruffles your hair affectionately. “I understand that you had to keep this a secret from Tae for the time being.” Then she turns to Hoseok.

“Hey, baby,” Hoseok grins, opening his arms, his glove-covered hands full of picked flowers. She responds with a smile of her own, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Missed you,” Hoseok mumbles into her hair.

She rolls her eyes, “We just saw each other this morning.”

“Missed you every moment,” Hoseok replies cheekily.

You smile to yourself, hearing their exchange as you work on the snow globe. Taking the glue from the bag, you gingerly apply it to the bottom of the miniature cherry blossom and then stick it to the flat surface of the snow globe. You hold it in that position for a few moments before letting it go to dry.

____ once again stands beside you as Hoseok continues to work on the bouquet. She curiously observes what you’re doing and comments, “Did you come up with this idea?”

You nod. “Yeah, I thought of creating something special for him. After all, it’s our first Valentine’s together as newlyweds.”

Not a minute later, Hoseok already calls for his fiancé from the wrapping table on the other side of the room. “Babe, can you please help me with these?”

____ gives him a glance. “You’re just making excuses to be near me. You usually have everything under control.”

Hoseok wails in vain. “Pleaseee. Usually, I’d have Jungkook helping me. But ever since he’s gotten so busy with his new job, I haven’t been able to find another part-timer. So, I thought you’re helping me today.”

Failing to stifle a smile, ____ mutters a quiet ‘he’s so needy’ and then moves to help whatever Hoseok requires.

You chuckle hearing their banter. Just listening or watching them has always strangely brought warmth inside you. They treat you as their younger sibling, or even their child at times, but you can’t bring yourself to be annoyed at the treatment. Not when you know how they genuinely care about you.

Despite not tying the knot yet, they are the ones who made you believe that soulmates (or at least something really close to it) exist. And you hoped it’ll be the same for you and Taehyung.

Taehyung prides himself in many things—running his billion-dollar worth corporation, doing art, and gaming. He’d like to say that there are still many hidden capabilities that he has yet to discover. However, in the recent light of events, he is close to admitting that talent in the kitchen is a definite no.

“No! What are you doing?!” Jungkook gapes at the smashed apple in Taehyung’s hold, its juices dripping down onto the counter. “You’re making a mess, hyung! And you aren’t supposed to cut like that! Are you trying to commit a murder?”

“I thought this is how you cut it open...” The man in question mumbles, staring glumly at his work.

“No,” Jungkook groans. “You do it like this.” He slices the apple in half easily.

Right. Another aspect that Taehyung seems to lack is the ability to follow or listen to instructions. His primary instinct is either to go with the flow or dive right into whatever he’s facing. Hence, it’s still a work-in-progress since following others is just not his forte—

—except you. Your lilting accent whenever you speak, or even subtle actions, Taehyung follows you easily. One of your little habits—taking deep breaths whenever your emotions are getting the best of you—Taehyung has picked up that so effortlessly.

Like how currently, he’s taking a deep breath to not let his rising frustration get the best of him.

“Like this?” Taehyung attempts the way Jungkook cuts the apple—cutting it in half, aligning with the stem and core, then trying to slice it thinly.

Jungkook nods, observing Taehyung. Jimin, on the other hand, stifles his laughter as he assembles the apple slices on the pastry sheets. The blatant impatience in Jungkook’s face grows more and more apparent at Taehyung’s skill—or, rather lack thereof—in dealing with a knife. “Okay, I think it’s better if I do the rest of it,” Jungkook takes the cutting board, and the apples left. “You can help Jimin hyung do the pastries—shit!”

One of the apple pieces—a chunk, to be precise—rolls off the plate and falls onto the ground. Jungkook’s eyes widen in horror as a fluff of black and brown fur zooms past his legs and picks up the fallen apple as quick as lightning.

“Yeontan, no!”

So, while Yeontan munches happily on his newly-attained snack and a string of curses escapes Jungkook’s lips, Taehyung snatches the cutting board back. He resumes slicing the apples slowly. He’s a man with determination, after all. He’d like to be the reason his wife’s eyes light up with glee as she tastes the apple roses pastries he put his heart into.

Jungkook fusses in the background, “Can dogs eat apples?”

Jimin, now, can barely contain his laughter at the unfurling of the whole scene. “Well… I think so.”

“You think so?” Jungkook groans, quickly fetching his phone from the living room. He furiously types on his phone and googles: can dogs eat apples. “I will not be responsible if Yeontan falls ill and— Oh, thank goodness.” He lets out a relieved sigh. “It makes healthy snacks for them instead.”

“Yeah, it does,” Taehyung replies nonchalantly. “I usually let him have a piece or two without the seeds.”

Jungkook grumbles. “Why didn’t you answer me in the first place then? I panicked—”

“Cuz it’s fun to watch your reaction,” Taehyung and Jimin said in unison.

“And it serves you right...” Taehyung adds, mumbling.

“Screw you guys. I’m not helping with this anymore.” Jungkook crosses his arms, pouting.

“This is for my wife, you know,” Taehyung reminds him, “And remember how my wife is close to Hoseok’s fiance—”

Jungkook picks up the knife in record time.

✧༺♡༻∞ ∞༺♡༻✧

You stare at the finished snow globe in satisfaction, capping back the glycerin and distilled water bottle tightly. Then after you’re confident that everything’s all settled and cleaned up, you tilt the globe a few times to make sure the content is all set and doesn’t spill.

The cherry blossom tree stands tall as tiny leaf-like cutouts of pastel pink cascade through the liquid in slow motion, like real falling cherry blossoms.

“Wow, it’s so pretty,” ____ comments after she helped Hoseok with the bouquet.

You grin at her compliment before placing the snow globe in an empty black gift box. “I hope Tae will love this.”

“He sure will,” ____ muses, watching you tie the gift box. “You know he’ll love anything you give him. And—”

“Babe, can you help me get some ribbons?” Hoseok asks from the wrapping table across the room.

“Sure,” ____ chuckles, grabbing a basket of colourful ribbons under the counter and handing it to Hoseok.

“Can you help me tape around the edges?” Hoseok lifts the bouquet of flowers, gaze pointing at the bulk of stems. ____ complies, following his instructions before wrapping it with cotton paper.

You stand up from your seat and move closer to the couple. At the sight of the assembled flowers, you gape, “Now, that’s pretty.”

“I’m glad you like it,” He chuckles, tying the wrapped bouquet with a ribbon. “And we’re done!” He hands you the bouquet.

Taking a closer look at the vibrant hues of red, pink, and white, you stare in awe. “I love it!”

After bidding Hoseok and ____ goodbye, you step out of the shop with the bouquet and gift box in hand. Taehyung’s chauffeur opens the door to the car, and you climb in quickly to avoid the cold weather.

“Where would you like to go, Mrs. Kim?” The chauffeur asks as he drives.

“The bakery please. It’s a few blocks away from here.”

You hum to yourself a soft, happy tune. Just imagining how your husband would react has your heart fluttering and giddy. Wondering what he’s up to, you take out your phone from your coat and press on his number.

The familiar ring buzzes a few times until he answers. “Hey, baby.”

“Hey,” you smile. “What are you up to?”

“Hmm? Uh, nothing?” He answers, then you hear the sound of clanking and familiar whispers in the background.

“Tae… What are you doing?”

He hums. “Well, I thought I should clean up the penthouse before our dinner tonight.”

“Oh,” you giggle. “Did you really call Jimin and Jungkook to help clean up our place?”

Taehyung mutters a curse under his breath. “W-Well, they are willing to help. So, why not?”

“Usually, you’d call the usual cleaning services. Plus, isn’t Jimin’s bakery busy today?”

“Unfortunately, not this time, sweetheart. I’ve prepared some things tonight and I don’t want people nosing around.” Taehyung explains. “And Jimin says his girlfriend got it under control.”

You let out an amused chuckle. “Alright then.” Glancing out the car window, the pastel pink store is nearing. “I need to go now. See you tonight, baby.”

“See you soon, my love.”

The smile never leaves Taehyung’s face as he puts his phone back into his pocket and walks back to the kitchen. Jungkook is still cutting apples while Jimin cracks some eggs into a bowl.

“Was that Y/N?” Jimin spares a brief glance as he whisks the eggs.

Taehyung nods. “She asked what I was doing.”

“Nothing at all…” Jungkook mutters under his breath, arranging the sliced apples on a plate and putting them in the microwave.

“I heard that,” Taehyung narrows his stare at the younger one. “So… How are things between you and her, Kookie?”

Jungkook falters. “Uh, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Ah, yes, do you know I just met her in my meeting a few days ago?” A teasing smirk curls up on Taehyung’s lips as Jungkook pouts, still arranging the second batch of apples.

“Don’t fight you guys.” Jimin groans. “We’re not even halfway done with this!”

Taehyung opens his mouth to complain, and Jimin cuts him off. “So, you’re going to prepare the muffin tray—” Jimin instructs Taehyung. “Then Jungkook is going to help me with the pastries.”

“Can I help with the pastries instead?” Taehyung watches Jimin pouring cinnamon and sugar into another bowl. “Jungkook can prep the muffin trays.”

“Are you up for it?” Jimin raises a brow. Taehyung nods enthusiastically.

“Alright. But make sure to follow how I do it.”

Taehyung smiles giddily and stands beside his friend. He follows every action Jimin does: brushing egg wash on the pastry, sprinkling cinnamon and sugar on the dough, arranging the apples, and rolling it into a tart.

“So, how’s things so far with Goldilocks?” Taehyung questions once he gets the hang of arranging the pastries.

Jimin lets out a sheepish chuckle. “That’s her pet goldfish’s name, you know.”

Jungkook places the muffin tray after he preps it. “And she made me carry the whole tank back home…” Jungkook grumbles, recalling the past event.

Taehyung shrugs. “Then Ms. Shooting Star.”

Jimin fights back a blush on his cheeks at the mention of that. “I’m beginning to regret telling you all that.”

Taehyung wiggles his eyebrows with a teasing smirk.

“We’re both really busy these days, and we said to take things slow since her parents are a bit complicated, but nothing I couldn’t handle.”

Jungkook chuckles, “Says the one who had a mental breakdown right before Christmas dinner.

Jimin glares at the younger one. “Look who’s talking. I wonder if you’d ever grow the balls to admit your feelings for She-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named.”

“I don’t have feelings for her.” Jungkook mutters, looking away.

Taehyung nods. “Well, then. That’s good to know. One of my business partners was asking about her the other day. I thought I’d introduce them. “

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Great, now you’re playing cupid?”

“Not yet. But I got one in mind who’s very interested in her…”

“Please, don’t.” Jungkook whispers, gritting his teeth.

“What was that?” Taehyung asks with an open hand behind his ear.

“Don’t…”

“What?”

“Please, for fuck’s sake. Don’t introduce any of your friends to her beyond business interest.”

Silence.

Jungkook blinks before he rambles, “I mean it’s going to be creepy if someone that’s fifty years older hits on her—”

“Oh, no. I can guarantee he’s not that old. In fact, he’s still a bachelor. Maybe a few years older than us. And—” Taehyung recalls, rolling the last apple rose pastry and placing it on the muffin tray. “—come to think of it, she did ask me about him once...” Taehyung trails, noticing Jungkook’s blank expression at the information. “Oops, I think I wasn’t supposed to say that.”

✧༺♡༻∞ ∞༺♡༻✧

“They all look so good,” you mutter, scouring through the vast chocolate choices under the display glass.

[Name] shoots you a smile. “Take all the time you need. The cafe isn’t open today, so it’s not that busy here.”

You glance around the bakery briefly. “I can tell… No wonder Jimin is with Taehyung right now.”

“Mhmm…” [Name] nods; she leans forward on the glass display, chin resting against one palm.

“Are you okay spending time here alone…?”

She shrugs. “I was promised a date in the winter market tonight. So, I don’t mind—” The sudden ringtone of her phone cuts her off. “Wait, gimme a sec—” You nod as she picks up her phone. “Mochi?”

A chuckle escapes your lips at the cute nickname.

“No, I can’t go there right now. It’s still too early to close up.” She glances at the wall clock. “Huh? What do you mean Jungkook left?” Your gaze shifts up from the sweet displays to her worried expression. “Oh, okay.” She drums her fingers on the counter. “I’ll talk to him if he goes here. Bye— yes, love you too.” She presses the disconnect button.

“Is everything okay?” You ask curiously.

She responds with a nod. “You know the usual, Taehyung and Jimin teases Jungkook too much and now, he’s gone off to blow some steam.”

“To where—” The door to the bakery slams open, and there a huffy Jungkook appears.

“That was fast,” [Name] sniggers at her best friend.

“Not in the mood,” Jungkook pouts, sitting on the closest table to the cashier counter.

“They giving you a hard time?” [Name] places a steaming mug of hot chocolate on his table and tilts her head slightly.

Jungkook huffs once more, sipping the drink carefully. Honestly, he doesn’t even know what got him so worked up. He’s used to all his hyungs’ teasing, but...

“Tell me about it,” [Name] places a steaming mug of hot chocolate on his table. “After I helped Y/N with her chocolate.”

Jungkook blinks, now realising that you’re standing awkwardly in front of the glass displays. “Hey, Y/N.”

“Hi, Jungkook,” you greet him back and turn to look at the desserts again. “And uh, I’ll take this and this…” You point out all the chocolate you’d like, earning a nod from [Name].

As soon as she’s done packing the chocolate box, you bid them farewell and exit the bakery with your heart fluttering in anticipation and excitement.

The peaceful atmosphere in the kitchen ceases the moment Taehyung’s phone dings when a text notification appears. Taehyung—who was busy admiring his final work on the muffin tray—takes a glimpse of his phone’s screen on the counter. “Oh no.”

Jimin takes the muffin tray off the counter and sets it in the oven. “What?”

“Jungkook just texted me that Y/N is coming back now.”

“Huh?” Jimin’s eyes widen. “But the pastries aren’t done yet!”

Another ding resounds through Taehyung’s phone.

Jungkook: Good luck tryna hide the pastries :P

“He can be annoying if he wants to...” Taehyung mutters under this breath at Jungkook’s retaliation.

“Well, we did hit a nerve by talking about her...” Jimin sighs, crossing his arms.

Taehyung snorts. “The kid needs to get it sorted out as quickly as possible. He sometimes just needs a push.”

“He still needs time,” Jimin counters, shaking his head. “Not all people have it easy in admitting their feelings.”

Taehyung mulls for a minute and nods in understanding. “I guess I shouldn’t push him too hard. But for now, I should find a way to distract Y/N,” Taehyung searches for your contact. “How long do you think we need?”

Jimin mentally calculates the time. “Like forty minutes to an hour?”

“Okay,” Taehyung clicks on your number. He clears his throat once you pick up the phone, “Y/N? Hey, baby, I might need help picking up something...”

“Oh, sure. What is it?”

“I need your help to pick up a cooking book I’ve been searching for…”

“...Cooking? Since when you’re interested in—”

“Look, I’ve been trying to find a new hobby and I thought why not cooking? Jimin recommended me to try it.” Taehyung blabbers, his heart beating fast. “And it’ll be fun if we do it together, right?”

“Okay.” The amusement in your tone lights up his face into a shy smile. “Send me which book you’re looking for and I’ll check with ____ if she has it. Just hope she and Hobi haven’t gone out for their date yet.”

“Thanks, love. I owe you one.”

He can hear the smile on your voice as you respond, “I only accept payment in kisses and cuddles.”

Taehyung chuckles fondly. “Consider it done.” Once you end the call, Taehyung checks the pastries in the oven, mumbling, “I hope that would keep her busy for a while.”

Jimin nods. “The first batch is almost done. But the second one—an hour should be enough...” He trails, voice filled with uncertainty.

“It has to be enough.” Taehyung picks up the dirty bowls and dumps it in the kitchen sink. “It should be...”

Jimin helps clean up the counter, even ensuring that there isn’t a trace of flour on the floor before he checks his phone briefly and pockets it back in his jeans. He moves near the oven—hands covered by the oven mitts—and tentatively takes out the first batch of apple roses pastries from the top rack and puts it on the counter.

“Let it cool off for a while and then you can hide it in the fridge or a container. Oh, and how will you plan to arrange the—”

Taehyung rinses off the remaining utensils—taking his washing gloves off—and rummages through the cabinets, taking out a heart-shaped platter.

With an unamused expression, Jimin blinks a few times. “You just have all kinds of things in your kitchen, do you?”

Taehyung shrugs. “Y/N came across it the other day and thought it was pretty. She didn’t buy it, so I bought it instead.”

A flabbergasted laugh escapes Jimin’s lips as he shakes his head. “Well, I better get going now. I don’t want to be late for my date tonight.”

“Thanks for your help, man. Couldn’t have done it without you.”

“That’s what friends are for, yeah?” Jimin walks out to the front door and wears his coat before giving Taehyung a farewell hug. “And you should apologise to Jungkook too. He’s probably still having his pity-party in my bakery.”

Taehyung nods, opening the door. “I will.”

After Jimin left, Taehyung goes back to the kitchen. He puts one leg and the other over the pet barrier he set to prevent Yeontan from stealing any more fallen ingredients. Said dog is whimpering in front of the kitchen doorway until the front door clicks. Then he hears the familiar footsteps of his wife.

So, of course, things aren’t going according to Taehyung’s plan today.

✧༺♡༻∞ ∞༺♡༻✧

After retrieving Taehyung’s desired cookbook, you arrive in the lobby. You stop by the receptionist desk to hide the gifts and tell them to bring it up to the penthouse at your call around seven in the evening.

The moment you step through the door, the sweet smell of cinnamon fills the air. Taking off your boots and coat, you call out for your husband. “Tae? You in here?” You head towards the kitchen to find it barricaded by Yeontan’s fence barrier. “What the—” You lift one leg over the barricade, and your other leg follows. You stride to the refrigerator to get a drink, only to find it blocked.

When you glance down, there your husband lays—his long legs blocking the fridge—with a strained smile on his face, looking absolutely winded. “You’re back.”

“My goodness, what happened here?” You crouch, helping him sit up. “Did the cleaning go wrong?”

Taehyung shakes his head, leaning against the refrigerator. “Everything’s well. Just… Resting… For a while.”

“Are you okay?” You tilt your head. “I’m gonna get you some water—”

Your husband stops you, leaning in to give you a peck on the lips. “Hi.”

An involuntary shy smile appears on your face. “Hi there, do you mind scooting? I want to get a drink.”

He shakes his head again, winding his arms around you. “It’s okay... I’m— I’ll take it for you.”

“Hmm? But you can barely even move, Tae…” You reach out, moving a stray hair from his handsome face.

“I can…” he pouts, grasping your hand on his hair to kiss your palm. “Just give me a minute.”

With a teasing smile on your face, you reach for the refrigerator handle again and attempt to open it when your husband stands up.

He’s definitely hiding something, but luckily he’s cute. “Alright…” You muse, watching his attempt to keep you from opening the fridge. But you suppose you’ll comply with his conspicuous actions. “I’ll wait in the living room.”

After you head out of the kitchen, Taehyung opens the fridge—releases a breath as he takes out a water bottle—and closes it again. He goes out to the living room, finding you giggling as Yeontan playfully licks your face on the couch. The sight brings warmth inside Taehyung’s heart as he strides closer and sits beside you, handing you your water.

“Thanks.” You let Yeontan down from the couch before taking the water bottle. While you drink your fill, Taehyung lays his head on your lap, letting out a contented sigh as you weave your fingers through his dark locks. “What time is dinner again?”

“Seven.”

Capping the water bottle, you glance at the wall clock in front of you. “So… Two more hours. I gotta get ready.”

“Hmm…?” Taehyung opens his eyes. “But we’re celebrating here...”

You let out a quiet laugh. “You said you want to reenact our first date.”

Your husband blinks once, then realisation falls upon him as he groans in embarrassment, sitting up. “You’re actually considering it?”

“Why not? It’s a cute idea,” you giggle. “It’s only between us both.”

Facing you, he questions, “It’s not too cheesy or anything?” Uncertainty is evident in his gaze.

“Of course not.” You grin, encircling your arms around him. “I love that idea actually.”

He lets out a sheepish chuckle. “Then I’ll see you in two hours?” Taehyung bites his bottom lip—a habit when he’s nervous—but he still holds your stare. “I’ll use the guest bathroom to freshen up. So, you get the bathroom all to yourself.”

“Oh? We can share as usual—”

“But that won’t fully reenact our first date, you know, before we’re living together—” He rambles, eyes darting everywhere, but you. You, on the other hand, fail to stifle a smile at his flustered state. Nodding in understanding, you stand up. Taehyung grasps your wrist, causing you to turn to him. “No kisses for me?”

You lean down, levelling your face with his, with a teasing smirk. “I don’t kiss on the first date, handsome.”

“You know what, on second thought—”

“See you later, baby.” Escaping his clutches, you go straight to your bedroom for your “first” date with your husband.

Taehyung has never been this nervous before, well, ever since your wedding day—the moment you walked down the aisle with a beautiful smile on your face that he needed to pull himself together before he turns into a sobbing mess and—

Okay, the point is, Taehyung has presented business plans, his company’s valuation, and other significant matters in front of hundreds or even thousands of people. He managed to stay calm and collected in every presentation—full of confidence as he moved across the stage with ease.

But when it comes to you? He wonders where did all that confidence go. And you’re just one person. The one person who he had promised to cherish and love, and—

He lets out a deep breath, staring at himself in the guest bathroom mirror. In a deep burgundy suit, he does a once-over at his appearance before the sound of the doorbell rings. He rushes out and ushers the staff, who brings a decorated table in along with the surprises he prepared.

A few minutes later, when all is set, he knocks on your bedroom door, straightening his suit jacket in nervousness.

The moment the door swings open, Taehyung’s throat goes dry as he gapes at you, adorning the same black dress you wore on your first date. Your eyes momentarily grow wide as well at his choice of outfit—the same one he used on the first date—before bursting into a giggle. “Wow, we do think alike…”

Snapping out of his trance, he nods. “And you still look breathtaking as ever.”

“Stop stroking my ego.” You move closer to him, looping your arm through his as he leads you to the living room.

“You know I can’t help myself,” Taehyung chuckles.

A gasp escapes your lips as soon as you see what has been prepared. The whole room is lit up by candles—some real, some fake—yet, there are no other words than to describe it as beautiful. The couch and coffee table has been set aside, and in the middle of the living room, a candlelit table stands with meals for two prepared on it. Your gaze falls on the bouquet of roses Taehyung has in hand.

“It’s beautiful,” you mutter in awe.

Taehyung grins. “A hundred and forty-three roses for the love of my life.”

You gape, taking the bouquet into your arms. “A hundred forty-three?”

“It means ‘I love you’.” His gaze is full of emotions. “I don’t know if I’ll ever live up to be the man of your dreams. But I can continue—” He takes your hand in his. “—to love you even more as we spend our lives together.”

Silence.

Your gaze is glassy and unreadable. Then you blink your eyes rapidly, looking up at the ceiling. “Damn it, Tae. I’m using makeup.”

“Huh?”

Placing down the bouquet on the coffee table, you reach out for the tissue, dabbing your eyes carefully before fanning your hands.

“Oh no, don’t cry—”

“It’s your fault for making such a speech. You know how emotional I get when you do that.” You dab your eyes more as Taehyung wraps his arms around your waist from behind.

“Oh sweetheart,” Taehyung coos as you face him. You stare into his loving gaze for a few moments before you clear your throat. However, as if on cue, the doorbell rings. Taehyung furrowed his brows. “Expecting someone?”

“Wait here.” Pulling away from his hold, you rush to the door. The moment you return to the living room with presents in hand, Taehyung gapes as you hand him the bouquet and gift box.

“What is this?” He observes the gift box curiously, then admires the flowers. “It’s beautiful.”

You sit on the couch, patting the space beside you. Taehyung follows suit, placing the bouquet on the coffee table before untying the gift box’s black ribbon before his breath hitches in his throat.

With trembling hands, he lifts up the snow globe carefully. “It’s… Isn’t this where we met?”

You nod. “Just so you know, I couldn’t wish for a better person to be with,” you start. “I think some part of me has always known that you’d be the man of my dreams. Ever since you spilled strawberry juice on my shirt.”

It takes him a few moments to process your words as his eyes shift from the snow globe to you; a chuckle passes his lips. “First, that was an accident. And do you… really mean that?”

Taking his free hand on yours, you lace your fingers together. “I married you, didn’t I?” Your wedding rings gleam softly, reflecting the light of the burning candles in the room.

“Made me the happiest man alive.” He recalls the memories of falling cherry blossoms, spilled strawberry juice and frantic apologies-turned-laughter. A soft smile appears on your face after putting the snow globe back on its box. He turns to you. “I really want to kiss you right now.”

You raise a brow at him. “What’s stopping you?”

“You don’t kiss on first dates.”

“Well…” You lean closer to him. “I think I can make an exception for the man of my dreams.”

Taehyung exhales, “Thank heavens.” He cups your face gently, clearing the remaining distance between the both of you. No matter how many times you kiss, it never fails to send his heart beating a tad faster or put a smile on his face. In other words, Taehyung is head over heels in love with you.

After a few moments, you pull away, and he chases after you, but you place a pointer finger on his lips. “Dinner first,” you remind him.

He sighs in defeat, lips turning into a pout and nodded. Once you both finish dinner, you lean back on your chair, patting your stomach. “That was a nice meal.”

“I have one more surprise for you.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, “What is it?” With a secretive grin, Taehyung stands from his seat and makes a beeline to the kitchen. You can hear the fridge opening and closing before your husband walks out of the kitchen with a—

“Isn’t that the platter I saw a few days ago?”

Excitement is written on his face at your realisation, placing the platter in front of you. You let out a gasp at the sight of the neatly-arranged apple rose pastries.

“I made it myself,” Taehyung beams. “Jimin and Jungkook came to help a bit.”

“A bit?” You tease, shooting him a glance before setting your gaze back on the pastries. “These look almost too pretty to eat.”

Taehyung drags his seat to your side and plops down. Anticipation is apparent in his eyes as he watches you pick up a pastry and bites into it. Another gasp escapes your throat at the burst of sweetness spreading across your tastebuds. You stare at him in shock as you chew.

“So?” He waits for your response. “How does it taste?”

“It’s...” You swallow the remaining pastry in your mouth down. “Really good.” Taehyung’s eyes twinkle at your compliment. “I’m… Wow,” you breathe out, utterly speechless. “So, this is why you wanted to start cooking?”

He blinks, with realisation dawning upon him, then he scratches the back of his neck in embarrassment. “Actually… That was to keep you distracted for a while. I wasn’t done baking the pastries yet.”

Snorting, you lift another pastry in front of your husband’s mouth; he bites and chews for a few seconds. And stops.

You furrow your brows at his odd reaction. “What’s wrong?”

“Shit—” Taehyung rushes to the guest bathroom without another word. Placing the half-bitten pastry on the empty plate, you follow suit and find your husband retching on the toilet bowl. Once he’s done, he reaches for a mouthwash. “I think—” He gargles the mouthwash then spit into the sink. “—that one is still undercooked.”

“Oh, no. I’m sorry. I didn’t know—” you ramble, watching Taehyung wipe his mouth with a paper towel, then washes his hands.

He cradles your face with his dried hands. “It’s my fault. I didn’t check if all the pastries are fully baked. I’m sorry.”

“You okay, now?” Your voice sounds uncertain, hands covering his bigger ones.

He nods reassuringly. “It’s not that bad. Maybe I was over-exaggerating— oof.” You poke his stomach in retaliation as he giggles.

“You had me worried.”

“And you’re still a worrywart.” He rubs his nose on yours affectionately. “My adorable worrywart.”

Your gaze falls on his drenched shirt (and luckily, he already discarded his burgundy suit). “Your shirt is ruined now.”

“Hmm...? Oh, dear,” he feigns worry, leaning on the marble sink—his palms on your hips. “Now, what do we do? Do you wanna—” You roll your eyes at the teasing glint in his eyes. Knowing what he’s up to, your fingers unbutton his shirt, leaving him flustered at your sudden movement. “W-Wait—!”

You pull the collar of his half-unbuttoned shirt, leaning forward to have his face so close to yours. Both your lips just millimetres away from each other. Voice dropping into a lilting whisper, you purr, “Let me make it easier for you today, yeah?”

Shivers run down Taehyung’s spine at your familiar words. “Is this payback because of this morning?” You shrug and finish unbuttoning his shirt. His lean chest on display to your eyes now. “Or is this just an excuse to get me naked?”

A teasing smirk curls up on your lips. “A bit of both.” Then you wrap your arms around his neck, closing the distance between you—lips claiming his own.

Humming in approval, Taehyung winds his arms around your waist. Fire ignites inside you as you pull away briefly. Your husband turns you around, settling you on the marble counter of the sink while he stands between your legs.

Your dress hikes up to your thighs, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Not when the man of your dreams drags his luscious lips across your jaw and trails down your neck. Your breath hitches when he kisses your sweet spot; fisting his opened shirt by the shoulder as he rains kisses on your collar bones, nipping on it.

“Tae—” You breathe out as he hums in response, tugging the zipper on the back of your dress down. “—kiss me, please.”

And he complies, claiming your lips.

Tangling your fingers through his hair, you let out a sigh as he trails downward once more, scraping the skin of your throat with his teeth. Tugging the straps of your dress off your shoulders and letting them pool on your waist, he lets out, “You’re gorgeous.” He places a kiss on the juncture between your neck and shoulder. A soft whimper emits from your throat. “So damn gorgeous. And all mine.”

Tracing his jaw—half-lidded gaze staring at him—you whisper, “Why don’t we take this somewhere else more comfortable?”

Almost instantly, he lifts you up in his arms—your legs winding around his waist, arms around his neck—heads out of the bathroom and lays you gently on the bed. You discard your dress as it falls in a heap of silk on the rug. Then you tug off Taehyung’s shirt as he climbs on top of you.

“You’re spoiling me so much today. Thank you,” You mutter, holding your husband’s face in your hands.

“Thank you, my love. What I did today, it’s the least I can do,” He stares back at you with so much love, leaning down to kiss you softly. “After all, I’d do anything to make you smile.”

You chuckle at that, poking his nose. “I love you.”

He holds one hand of yours and kisses your palm. “And I love you.”

The remaining articles of clothing find themselves in a heap on the floor as your husband reminds you of your wedding night—making love to you into the late hours of the night.

EPILOGUE

“Don’t go…” he mumbles sleepily, keeping his arms around your naked waist.

“Tae, let me go, I just need a drink—” you wriggle in his hold to break free. “—my throat is really dry—” And your husband has the nerve to chuckle at your words. He lets out a pained groan as you poke his stomach (maybe a bit too hard), and finally, he lets you loose.

Climbing off the bed, you pick up his shirt and don it quickly. However, the moment you step out of the bedroom, an unpleasant smell wafts through your nostrils, and when you reach the living room, you gape in horror.

“Yeontan!” You shriek at the sight as the said perpetrator waddles towards you with his round innocent eyes.

Your husband emerges—bare-chested and in his boxers—out of the bedroom at your alarming shriek. Once he sees the scattered dog waste across the marble floor, he mutters, “I think we ignored him for too long.”

author’s note: i’ve decided to add another character (YAYYY CEO!taehyung) in the same universe as baker!jimin, florist!hobi and ???!jungkook (feel free to guess what he’d be 😙)!! thank you for reading and as always feedbacks are appreciated !!

398 notes · View notes

alluringjae · 4 years ago

Text

until dawn; pt. II - 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: 12.2k

⤑ genre: ANGST, fluff, romance, smut (f receiving, dom!jeno waow, dirty talk, wrap it everyone) | broke architecture major!jeno, historical figure!reader, enemies to lovers!au, college!au, night at the museum-inspired!au

⤑ warnings: references to actual historical figures, explicit language, graphic details, major heartbreak caused by another party, expect time jumps too

⤑ author’s note: happy jeno day!! i’ve been so excited to post this part, and i’m happy we’re here!! perhaps, this is the last long fic i’ll write for a while so i can rest, but i’ll still be posting short stories within the weeks to come! i’m excited for may to say the least hehe

btw, for the smut scene (indicated with **), i highly recommend you listen to strange (feat. hillary smith) by kris bowers!! this song is from the bridgerton soundtrack, and oh man, the feels!!

with that, enjoy!

italicized text either means they are personal notes or flashbacks.

this was meant to be more angsty, but either way, i screamed every time i wrote something gut-wrenching.

⤑ taglist: @renjunniehome

⤑ ctto above!!

⤑ leave me some feedback, constructive criticism, or hellos!

“You ready to get your butt beaten by me, Lee?”

“Prepare your final words when I win instead, (Y/L/N).”

Mischievous banter exchanged between you two became a new norm. Almost every night, someone within the art pieces established a contest over anything and it released the competitive sides of you two. So far, Jeno has been winning. Not like it hurt your pride, but maybe just once, you could conquer one game to feel better. Not only that, there’s a mini penalty for the loser. So far, you’ve cleaned up the lobby yourself and acted cutely to everyone the entire evening (or aegyo as Jeno called it).

Tonight, a game of archery was held by the Greek gods. They pushed away any extra pieces away, leaving the whole room vacant with two boards right beside Zeus’ throne. Numerous arrows were produced and sharpened, Zeus in the center announced to everyone participating.

“It’ll be 1 on 1 games. First to go are Jeno vs (Y/N), followed by Athena vs. Hermes, Cleopatra vs. Freddie, and last would be Hades vs Aphrodite.”

Cutting the chase, you didn’t expect Jeno to be that good at archery. Sure, he told you that he took classes with his friends for fun when he was younger, though it showed that he’s a fast learner and even hit one bullseye in the middle of the game.

Not slightly threatened until the last rounds, you fixed your aim and lessened your overthinking when preparing to shoot. Thus, you scored 2 bullseyes shot. It was a close fight, having the audience on the edge on their feet again because it’s the two of you. Your dynamic with the night guard always elevated the mood, shifting their bets over and over again.

By 1 point, you received your first victory against Jeno. Unlike you, he showcased his sportsmanship sweetly without any comments of disbelief. He’s never bragged about anything big in his life, not unless it’s a high grade for his plate. Normally, he celebrated wins in a laid-back manner. But don’t be fooled: he loves giving penalties.

“This is why I don’t make bets with my friends because I really go for their weak spots.”

“You’re cynical, Lee Jeno.”

“Only if you’re close to me, (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“Aren’t we already past that stage?”

Almost halfway through his job, he sustained a meaningful friendship with you. Out of everyone, you were his default person to hang out within the nights he had a shift. If he wasn’t present, he made sure to give you small treats or gifts as much as possible. An innocent friendship, it was that the world would’ve never believed in.

Or was it?

“To celebrate your win, what do you want me to do?”

“You’re too kind for me to play around with, even if you’re the complete opposite of me.”

“I’ll make it simple and worthwhile since I don’t know when I’ll win a game again.” As your finger tapped your temple as you pondered deeply, a smart idea came through. “Grant me 3 wishes.”

He chuckled, lowering himself to view you better. “Am I like some genie now to you?”

“No room to complain, I won, didn’t I?” You grinned, raising one brow to show your dominance.

“You’re petty in your own way, aren’t you?”

“Perhaps. Now come on, I want to use my first wish.” You shrugged it off like no big deal, loving the high feeling of triumph. You lead him to the center of the lobby, where a beautiful grand piano only selected people get to play during exhibits. “Open the museum piano.”

Ever since you were brought to life, you never used it. Tempting but because people from the outside might here, maybe it’s time to try something new. A new challenge, and besides, you missed entertaining people through it. The last time you touched the delicate piano keys was to your family before you ran away.

It’s a good thing that in the shackle of keys Jeno held, the needed key was there. Unlocking the lustrous black instrument, you sat by the matching black bench. Crackling your fingers, you tested by pressing a few keys to get the hang of it again.

“What are you planning to play, (Y/N)?” Jeno leaned against the side, his arms crossed.

Humming the first notes of your piece, the nostalgia ran through your veins. “Nocturne No. 2 in E flat by Chopin.”

Your fingers took off and played each chord slowly and calmly. This piece reminded you the most of your mother, who sat by the couch in front of your old piano with your father while guests from the party they hosted crowded around you. Being the youngest, they often requested you to perform as entertainment so you always put your best foot forward. Or so you tried.

Nevertheless, no one else in your family was capable to play this piece as perfectly as you. By the way your eyes closed and your body swayed to the mellow tune, Jeno observed how you memorized this piece by heart. A passionate flame you were, outshining every pianist out there.

He wasn’t surprised at how multi-talented you were, though there’s a different kind of aura you present when you played the instrument. From your hard and tough front, you could be soft and sweet to the right people.

In a way, you showed your comfort toward the boy by serenading him with the piano. Sketching him with him in the past was one thing, but this was another. You’d sketch with people you’ve grown used to, but you play piano to people you want to cherish in your life. As dangerous as it seems, Jeno was someone special to you, only wanting to have good moments with him.

Junmyeon will always have a huge part in your museum life, but Jeno filled the emptiness that he left behind. This loneliness for a human friend vanquished thanks to Jeno, and you didn’t want to jeopardize it at all. Sure, whenever he acted like a gentleman around you, let you inside the Foreign Art Room, or brought you food sometimes, you couldn’t help feel honored.

Though lately, every time he showed off his strength when he defeated Zeus and Hades during an arm wrestle game the god held again. You seriously had to catch a breath at every flex his arms made, like the goddesses. Maybe how he pushed his black hair back when he’s drawing another plate, you’d give yourself a few extra seconds to see his long fingers skim through them. He’d bit his lower lip when he’s in too deep with his creativity, wondering if he’d bite the lower lip of the girl he’d ki-

All right, (Y/N), relax. Maybe you’re thinking this way because it’s been decades since your last relationship. You wouldn’t want to fall for another possible trap and hurt yourself again, right?

Ever since this job, Jeno’s university life drastically changed. Yes, he still hung out with his friends and performed extremely well in his classes, though he prioritized anything related to the museum wherever he was. If they were drinking out, he’d buy an extra bottle of soju for you on his way back to the dorm. Rarely does he get shitfaced anyways.

If he and Renjun visited the bookstore to purchase pens or any art-related materials, he always bought either an extra sketchpad or set of pens. Even if you were simply a figure to everyone else, he appreciated the bond you both developed.

Every night, he’d tell you about his day from the start. Normally, it consisted of a lot of schoolwork and coffee, some stories about his roommates too. Speaking of them, he’d insert a lot of humorous words about his entire group of friends, whom you learned their names too.

Mark, Jaemin, Renjun, Jisung, Chenle, and Donghyuck, each of them presented a different color in their group. Jeno, who’d admitted to being shy and quiet, grew out of his shell because of them. A friend of Jeno’s would automatically be a friend of yours, if only you were allowed to leave the museum or become a human.

Jeno learned more about your past explorations that never got documented because you no longer had an interest in jotting them down. They were adventures you’d kept to yourself, memories only close to you then would know. Except now, Jeno was another addition. You’re not the type to instantly open to people, though again, a sense of relief surrounded him every time you encounter each other. It grew gradually like a warm hug, softening your heart and breaking your walls.

The more he spent time with you, nothing feared Jeno the slightest. He’s always maintained himself intact, avoiding lines to be crossed and giving respect to those who deserve it. However, he began to question himself where exactly his feelings lie with you after Jaemin tried to set him up on a blind double date just so the best friend of his date wouldn’t feel left out.

He’s rarely one to get crushes on people, even when other girls in his college openly showed their affection towards him. Valentine’s Day or his birthday, several girls sent him chocolate or flowers. Jaemin and Renjun got sick of girls reaching out to them first so they could reach him. It’s not because he’s not the dating type, but because he’s so goal-oriented that unlike his roommates, he doesn’t have a slight clue about dating.

Though one-night stands while at a party and dating were completely different, he’d still say he had experience with girls. Plus having an older sister, he never took advantage of them. He’d rather tell them in person that the feelings weren’t mutual than ghosting them. He’s not like Jaemin anyways.

With that, he’s so lost when his heart beats twice as fast the second you’ve woken up from your posing slumber. He doesn’t comprehend how flustered he’d be when you highly insist to help him with his plate or how cute he finds it when you’re playing fetch with Mochi. On top of it, when you chose to sketch each other for one of your sketching sessions, he’d take a longer stare at your visage before he drew some strokes.

A lot of historical accounts mentioned how your beauty was the standard of the Victorian era, wherein you were the jewel of your neighborhood and numerous men wanted your hand. Women envied you, especially having high intelligence skills that were equivalent to a man. That time, that felt like a threat to most men. Though surprisingly, it turns out there were men who liked intelligent girls.

Jeno knew he liked you as a friend, though liking you past that he didn’t intend. Nor was it allowed because it’ll break one of the golden rules. Before he’d go beyond contemplating, he had to stop himself. This was so unlike him. The feelings will fleet away, he’d repeat to himself. Don’t waste a great friendship because of your silly emotions.

Individually, both of you swallowed these harboring feelings down your guts and simply kept your friendship status safe. Doing your typical activities or whatever else you could think of, none of you minded to change it whatsoever.

Unknown to you though, it was obvious to the other art pieces ones that you two practically passed off as young lovers. Although they know that pushing one towards the other went against the rules, Aphrodite begged to differ.

“Holding them back from expressing what they really feel just because of the law here is a tragedy. They should at least try, you know?”

On another typical night, Jeno invited you to the Theater Room for a movie marathon. After finding out that you’ve never seen any moving pictures, he wanted to be there to introduce it. Luck was on his side to not have plates or requirements due for the week and everyone was behaving themselves, so he started with rolling out short films from the 88mm projector. Having premade popcorn and drinks, the two of you shared roars of laughter and emotional tears.

Switching to the cd player for longer and clearer films, you’d opt to believe that you were born at the wrong time. With all these advancements, it came with a lot of new beliefs. One of them was allowing women to study and work. Then again, she was a pioneer according to historians. Without her, it wouldn’t help shape society as it is today.

Nonetheless, this movie Jeno played on the big screen was what he defined as “one of the classics”, 10 Things I Hate About You.

This outspoken character named Kat was presenting a poem to her class, trying to hold in her raw emotions towards Patrick, the boy who broke her heart. Too engaged, you didn’t notice how Jeno stretched his arms out so he could wrap one around your shoulder. Not that you were complaining, his warmth reassuring you safety.

“I hate the way you talk to me, and the way you cut your hair. I hate the way you drive my car. I hate it when you stare. I hate your big dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind. I hate you so much it makes me sick; it even makes me rhyme. I hate it, I hate the way you're always right. I hate it when you lie.” The way she attempted to keep her strong ground only reminded you of where you were weeks ago, especially once she excruciatingly broke down.

“I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry. I hate it when you're not around, and the fact that you didn't call. But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.” Only when you leaned back to the chair, you felt his arm. His thumb caressing your covered shoulder, you peeked him a little bit. His eyes fixated on the screen, absorbed in the acting and how Kat’s tears weren’t scripted as she stormed out of the classroom.

Not that you were her, but it sparked the past memory of how you merely disliked him because of his job. But as a person, not even close, not even once did you hate him. How blessed that he never judged you for it, staying patient all this time.

Right before he could look back at you, you moved your face back to resume your watching. Jeno definitely noticed what you did, though not sure as to why. Whatever it was, it wasn’t harmful.

Once the film ended, Jeno checked his watch for the time. 4 am, he wanted to do something else now instead of film viewing. You were on par with it, wanting to walk it out after being seated for hours. As you both cleaned up and bid the posters outside goodbye, the doors to the museum were locked unexpectedly. Impossible on Jeno’s half because he had the keys for every room, but he double-checked his bunch.

Alas, the keys for these doors specifically were missing. But there was no other way anyone could’ve gotten it, plus it’s not like the last person he talked to, which was Aphrodite, would need it.

Or did she?

Rather than putting any blame on each other, your only wish now was to return to your section before sunrise. You and he could just relax momentarily before yelling for help.

“Maybe we should watch another film first?”

“Alright, you choose while I return the rest.”

As Jeno inserted the cd of Cinema Paradiso inside, the background music of the opening played. He hummed the first notes, already feeling the love from this film. Another must-see classic as recommended by Renjun, he wanted to rewatch it with you.

Slowly returning each cd and film roll to their respective drawers, the melodious theme had you waltzing in the small space. Even beyond your life, classical music never gets old. Aging like fine wine, sounding spectacular as time passes because of people’s creativity.

Jeno gazed over your sudden movements, smiling uncontrollably at how immersed you were as you multi-tasked. However, you took a wrong turn by the desk and almost dropped a priceless film roll. But before you fully slipped and fell, a pair of strong arms caught you at the right time. Panting from the nerves, mostly when he was inches from your face. Never has he pressed his body this close to you to protect you, and never have you seen his captivating eyes this up close.

As enchanting as the background music of Ennio Morricone was, it only became noise once Jeno took ahold of the film roll on your hand and placing down on the desk. Taking another step closer, you were backed up by the edge. Not to mention how his height dignified his impact on you, your arms were still situated by your side with nowhere else to go.

That was until his finger elevated your chin so he could meet you on eye-to-eye level. His other hand gripping your waist, you became brave enough to place your hands by his broad shoulders. Licking your lips, you glanced at his lips quickly. But he noticed it, and as risky as this was, it was a leap of faith to take.

“May I kiss you?”

Always such a gentleman, even when he already knew how much you desired him through your returning affections. Calming your breath patterns by the speed of everything occurring, you came back to your senses. He’s the one who constantly told you not to forget your roots, so you were going to take this one.

You trust him, and he does too.

“Yes.”

Since the first film, some kind of tension increased the closer he moved or intimate his actions were towards you. You kept pushing it back in hopes not to ruin what you both have. But it only turned out to be mutual, especially how none of you held back as soon as his lips passionately clashed yours.

Tangling your arms around his neck, you stood on your tiptoes to press even closer to him. Feeling his lively heart pumping against your hollow chest, you bit his lower lip. Something you’ve secretly craved to do, he growled from the pleasure. He hoisted your waist to the desk, his impatient hands earnestly traveling all over your body. While your legs locked around his torso, your feisty nature leaned back so your entire body lied on the small desk.

Jeno was on top, placing one hand down to hold himself while the other squeezed your waist firmly. Even if you’re made of wax, you’re like an actual living woman at night. Everything about you becomes real until dawn. You emitted vulgar moans, giving him more access to your neck. Peppering a mix of soft to hard kisses, your hand teasingly snaked under his shirt. He really wasn’t joking when he bragged that he was quite ripped since he enjoyed sports and going to the gym, cupping a part of his toned abdomen.

“If you want something, all you have to do is ask.” He sluggishly sucked the area between your ear and neck, one of your weakest spots. “What’s on your mind, baby?”

The growing moistness in between your legs left a stain in your panties, trying to close your legs out of embarrassment. It’s been decades since you’ve been stimulated like this. However, Jeno beat you to it as he trailed the hand that was on your waist and lowering it right above your covered sex. He cupped it agonizingly slow, making you folding your leg from the pleasure. For a man who doesn’t date around, he knew exactly what he’s doing.

“I just kissed you, and you’re already this soaked. Can you handle me, baby?”

As the strong woman that you present yourself to be, it would selfishly take the right touch from the right man to weaken you. With his savage lips back on yours while your hands clutched on his shirt, he was simply waiting for a verbal answer, yet driving you completely mad. Everything was happening so fast, and here he was to please you in anywhere you seem fit.

You were deprived, and oh, you needed it more than ever.

However, seconds before you replied, there was loud rumbling from the main doors which stopped your devilish antics. As Jeno moved back from you to see the ruckus, you lifted yourself back up, pulling back your dress sleeves and flattening out the creases. The last thing you wanted was a trail of familiar red marks from the aggressive male, finding any reflective surfaces to check.

“I wouldn’t be that dumb to leave you hickies now, would I?” Jeno ended your worries as he placed his hands by your side again. His face leaned towards yours again, reliving the warmth in your cheeks. His lips were plumper, catching traces of your coral lipstick smudged there down to his jaw. He slotted himself again between your legs, grazing a hand on your waist and the other to your warm cheek. “The door’s unlocked now, and it’s 5 am. Do you want to clean up now?”

You playfully scoffed, aware that neither of you had plans to do that yet. Such a player while in the heat of the moment.

“Spare me 15 more minutes with you first.”

Hiding the romance you’ve both built failed without trying. Aphrodite spotted all the signs from your open physical affection and words of admiration, calling you two out in front of everyone without shame. She is the goddess of love, after all. You couldn’t fool her even if you tried.

Plus, she’s the one who locked the two of you up in the Theater Room that night. But neither of you know that.

“Sketch my ideal home?” Jeno bent down to the table, testing out his newly bought pens so they wouldn’t spill.

“Isn’t that why you decided to pursue Architecture in the first place? Come on now!” You pestered across him, opening your new sketchpad since your last one ran out of pages. As expected, Jeno bought you one when he went to the bookstore. As much as you insisted not to because he should use the money somewhere else, he did it anyway. He loved your works, encouraging you in any way he could.

When he was reminded of his humble beginnings of his passion for architecture by you, never had he envisioned exactly how his perfect home would be like. Settling down was so far beyond his mind, only focusing to graduate university then study for the licensure exams. However, he did miss drawing something for fun, not as a requirement. He also was the one who took charge of designing his dorm.

“Fine, only if you draw what your ideal home would’ve been if you never left London.”

Now as lovers, the only addition to your relationship were the public and private exchanges of affection. Deep conversations, film viewing, back and forth banter, you’re both still the same competitive duo everyone expected to be together. In public, the two of you held hands, hugged, kissed each other cheeks too when it felt right. Cleopatra’s face of fake nausea was priceless every time, while Princess Diana, Anne, and Katherine enjoyed it. It’s been years since they’ve seen this glow of adoration in you. Bit by bit, you’re going back to the old you. Except now, you’re a lot stronger.

Perhaps, this version of you proved wrong for the need for romance. Even if you made the choice not to settle down then, it would’ve been different if Jeno was in your universe then.

“Are you done there?” Jeno asked while you were finishing up your masterpiece. Life in London sounded fun when you were younger, having all these ideas on interior design and the like. An innocent time.

Instead of replying, you strode to his side and compared your pieces together. He pictured a two-story home, with a backyard and rooftop area. He definitely wanted to stay in the city as his whole life was based there. Although you preferred living in the countryside more for more freedom, you gave it a shot by pinpointing every detail of a wealthy typical Victorian-era home you liked. You desired a spacious lobby with a grand staircase in the middle, a crystal chandelier there too. The living room would have a small library and a grand piano, where wide doors leading to the grasslands were beside it.

Considering you two lived from different times, in a way your ideal homes were similar. Somewhere private, surrounded by nature and minimal furniture, you’re curious as to how it would look if the two of you fused them together. A mix of old and new, will it look pretty?

“What will look pretty?” Jeno questioned your random thought, looking back and forth at your sketches. “You know who’s pretty though?”

“If you say what I think you’re going to say, I’m lea-”

“You.”

Jeno has gotten flirtier since that night, always finding the right opportunity to flatter you. Although you denied them out of embarrassment, the butterflies in your stomach can’t lie to you.

You’re so smitten, and so was he.

Jeno’s always one to follow the rules, but so far, he’s been breaking some of them already.

Just last night, he gave Renjun access to the lively museum because he needed more research regarding you. Initially, he practically interviewed Jeno for every piece of information he gathered because he used to be so deep in the books to study everything about you. Now in the past, Renjun still couldn’t forget how Jeno drunkenly admitted how crazy he was going to be over you and your coldness whilst sobering up in the dorm.

He didn’t understand one bit by that, especially when you’re technically dead. But by the sight of the first piece Renjun saw alive, which was Zeus, he almost passed out. Piece by piece, he viewed these artworks come to life from his fresh eyes. Right before he could’ve screamed when Athena shot a lightbulb in their exhibit, you happily called out Jeno’s name.

Renjun froze on the spot upon seeing your wax figure come to life. He’s browsed through this museum numerously due to the new exhibits, but lately, he checked your section out to find any tiny details that were linked to your life. Aside from the sketchpad, compass, and hairpins, he wanted to know if there was more to your life as an explorer.

As human interactions except the night guard weren’t allowed, Renjun needed help for his project in Women Studies. Just like Jeno’s assignment, you aided him. Fruitfully answering every question he gave you, Athena popped out of nowhere to inspect Jeno.

“I see you’re breaking another rule.”

“I’m sorry, Athena. He was desperate, and it would be selfish of me to let him fail.”

“This is the last one I’ll let slide, alright?” Athena huffed, not impressed by the reckless behavior Jeno acquired over time. She saw this coming, but for a change, she couldn’t punish him. He was a young adult, still learning more about life. Only will she step in if things turn for the worst. “I can’t believe I’ve gained a soft spot for you.”

Jeno laughed, hugging the figure like his older sister. “You love me though!”

Glad to say, Renjun aced his project and kept his word of not telling anyone about the happenings in Jeno’s job. Jeno even made a makeshift non-disclosure contract so Renjun wouldn’t spill the slightest details.

Lately, so much has been happening in the museum that having alone time with each other was rare. And when you did, the two of you made sure to maximize it and make every intimate moment count. From each touch, each longing kiss, each moan, and groan, never were you left hanging whether you’re at the Theater Room, Jeno’s office, or the Foreign Art Room.

The only time the two of you went beyond the boundaries was at the indoor garden. Jeno managed to get the key to it, lighting up some candles before you invited you inside. Thanks to the magic of the Greek gods, the cameras were bewitched to display fake imageries when security checks in the morning after.

Upon your deep conversations, you’ve mentioned once or twice about the indoor garden. It was the latest addition of the museum, opening in the early 2000s. Because it was a sacred place, no art piece was ever allowed inside.

Yet again, Jeno challenged the rules again when he invited you inside. A few minutes before, he set up some lights along the hallway of the garden, where he placed a blanket, a picnic basket, and his laptop right at the end of it. The best place to view everything, he just knew you’d love it.

He was undoubtedly right once you gasped at such a pretty sight. Seeing the silhouettes of various flowers and plants together with the night sky with all the stars sparkling, it was like you’re attending another ball with your sisters, who were looking for suitors then.

Once Jeno leisurely led you until the end, he brought out all the delicacies from the basket. One of them was this Italian savory dish of dough with toppings such as cheese and pepperoni, or pizza as they named it. The next ones were fresh strawberries and melted chocolate, followed by grape juice.

“I’d drink actual alcohol with you again, only if I didn’t get shitfaced and do my job properly.”

“Point taken. Besides, this is close enough. So pour me a drink please.”

Perhaps this was the closest to a date Jeno could ever ask you out to. With the restrictions and being constrained with time, he brainstormed all sorts of ways to bring the outside world to you. From simply letting you wander around this fascinating room, he unleashed the inner romantic in him. None of his friends would’ve thought since they never asked him about it, so he kept it to himself only. Finally, he’s satisfied with what he prepared. After eating, the two of you would watch more films before the sun rose again.

You’re just the right person for him at the moment he can act that way.

After your quiet stroll and sitting back down, Jeno surprisingly handed you a tiny box.

“A gift?”

“Open it.” He sipped on his juice, paying attention to your actions. Gently untying the box, the amazement in your eyes couldn’t fathom such a lovely present. No words were required to verify that Jeno outdid himself again, just your facial expression alone is enough.

When Jeno said that he pays attention to the tiny details, he doesn’t bluff. Throughout your growing relationship, you’ve cited how you wanted another special flower in your life. Just because you couldn’t view lavender roses the same way ever again, it didn’t mean you wanted to kick them out of your life. Flowers were one of nature’s beautiful creations, so you’re wishing to find the love you once had for lavender roses in other ones.

Thus, you came across what you thought held the highest form of meaning: red roses. Despite its thorns, it’s still a marvelous flower. Innocently, you told him that just because of the memory of your father giving them to your mother on her birthday yearly.

Red roses represented true love and romance, a discreet message only those eager would know.

Jeno was one of them, which was why he reserved this gift for this very moment. It was a necklace he found through a college fair recently, a subtle red rose pendant in the center. Since he couldn’t give you huge gifts, he settled for something light. Something none of the guards or the director wouldn’t pinpoint out when they do their inspections.

“Do you like it?”

Not one utter from your mouth since you’re so hypnotized, your lips quirked up in a charming smile. “Is that even a question? This is astonishing, Jeno.”

After you attempted to put it around your neck, Jeno sighed and stepped in to help you out. “Turn around, (Y/N). Let me.”

The tension gradually heightened once you held your hair up so Jeno accessibly viewed your clean neck. Clasping the lock, it took all his might to hold himself back from you. Even from behind, your silhouette was attractive to him. The lights he set up weren’t helping the slightest of what he’s thinking to do with you.

“Done.” He breathily whispered in your ear.

If he thought he was the only one feeling something powerful, he’d be more than wrong. The lingering sensation of his slim fingers gracing your décolletage area unhinged another kind of want, the one you’ve only imagined in your mind when you were needy and alone. It shouldn’t be a sin unless you’re with the person you’ve fallen for, right?

Facing him again, the eye contact didn’t last long when you were the first one to strike a move. Jeno kissed back right away, his hands pulling you closer by your waist. Whatever sultry music Jeno played, it gave you the perfect momentum to grind on his lap. He groaned against kisses, adding his tongue. His thumbs sensually rubbed your hipbones, one of your hands toying around with his hair while the other one balled up his shirt by the chest. None of you cared if anyone caught you.

The last time you’ve been this aggressive was at the Theater Room, which eventually increased the hidden lust you’ve had towards each other. Taking things slowly at first, it’s about time to delve in for more. The mood was already set from the start, even if Jeno didn’t plan this to happen here. But being the prepared man he is, he did have a condom in his back pocket.

Your fingers trailed from his neck until his crotch. He was hard, sensing how suffocated he must be. But he kept himself in control. Locking eye contact, you sweetly spoke.

“Grant my second wish, Jeno.” That same hand of yours held one of his, planting it in your breast. “Make love to me.”

Giving the go-signal, he crashed his lips on yours while stripping you off your dress. Carefully, he turned you around to untie your tight corset. Once it fell, your neck leaned sideways as his lips attacked it madly. Your breaths were tremulous, placing both his hands on your freed breasts to knead with. His touch felt like fire on your skin, yet you couldn’t stop.

“Jeno,” Obscene moans from your lips choked out. You desired more, shifting back to face him again to attack his lips. Slowly feeling one of his hands laying you down, you spread your legs with ease just for him. He parted after your head landed on the cushion to unbutton himself. The way your mouth dropped to selfishly stare at his bare body, flexing them before getting back into position. He was fit and toned just as Cleopatra predicted.

As much as Jeno knew how wild your thoughts were getting, he was more taken aback by your perky chest.

“Fuck, you are divine.” He sucked one nipple as his fingers ventured to slip your panties down. So much was going on, you didn’t know which stimulated you more. You tried to close your legs around his hand, but he slapped your inner thigh to stop you.

The cool breeze shivered you, especially from your core. Jeno’s fingers adventurously grazed from your hip area to your lower lips. He teasingly rubbed it up and down in your essence, his index finger settling it right at your needy clit. Another moan escaped your lips, an opportunity for Jeno to slide his tongue in your mouth. Enjoying the moment, his fingers dipped inside you. A gasp broke your kiss, making him giggle in your ear.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

“Oh, angel. The things I want to do with you.”

Sliding them back and forth, curling it even, you squirmed for more. Dropping himself to meet your core, Jeno placed your legs on his shoulder. Pushing you closer, his steamy breath felt like friction. Your hips grinded against it, so he gripped on them so you stay put.

“Angel,” He chuckled darkly, his crotch tightening at how powerless you looked. “You’re so pretty.”

You were drenched from arousal. But to Jeno, you were glowing under the lights. He wanted to take his time to admire what he had done to you. His independent girl, only weak for him.

His fingers unfolded in your lower lips, diving in to your orbit. You could hardly speak from his skilled mouth, especially his tongue savagely lapping your clit in numerous paces. You’ve only daydreamed about what it could do aside from kissing, and it exceeded your expectations. By the heated sensation that had the heels of your feet digging his back deeply, you affirmed to have seen more stars than the night sky above you.

Your back arched uncontrollably while his hands grasped your hips to stay in place, the tears in your eyes formulating while tugging on his hair. Your thighs clenched around his face, but his broad shoulders widened it to taste more of you. No use of pulling away when his grip on you was tight, so you could only cry out from the pleasure.

“Fuck!”

The ringing sounds in your off were going off, your throat drying up from moaning once another orgasm was about to hit. Once the knot in you snapped, nothing could hold back your screams of pleasure whilst panting for air. Sensitive as he licked every remaining essence he caused, he smirked as he got up to unbuckle his jeans.

Oh, boy. He got quite a package behind his boxers.

Even while you were overly sensitive, you had to grasp it in your hands. He was yours, and you were his.

The way you clenched around his protected length, pausing to readjust yourself to the feeling. The foreplay deemed helpful, though the girth of him overwhelmed you. He stretched you out so good.

“Are you okay, (Y/N)?” The stunned face you made was expected, still feeling worried that it may be too much.

Biting your lip, you moaned once everything felt bearable. “You can move, Jeno.”

None of you could track exactly how many rounds you went through. Even in the semi-public area, it didn’t hinder either of you. There’s that thrill, and surprisingly enough, you both shared the liking of it. Always switching the positions, you decided to call it quits after another sloppy round in missionary. Something seeing Jeno on top, fully submitting yourself to him, made you feel calm to be vulnerable. It’s really the trust you’ve established from the start, making you rely on humans again once you’ve let the past be.

Jeno brought out another blanket, initially meant for cuddling. It was still applicable though, curling your body into a spoon towards his racing chest. Music was no longer noise, the intimacy creeping back instead of lust this time. The afterglow of Jeno, sweaty and knackered as his legs sprawled under the sheet, was a sight for sore eyes. He’s always been handsome while on duty, but post-sex gave him an extra boost.

Plus there’s pride from the red marks courtesy of you on his chest, grazing over it softly.

Jeno chuckled softly at your smooth fingers, lifting them up to kiss them tenderly before kissing your lips again. Only humans were capable of and to love, but you’re some kind of an exception. Regardless of the magic from the plate, you’d be able to love too if it weren’t for your background.

There’s so much love Jeno wanted to offer you, even if he hasn’t said it out loud yet.

Perhaps one reason was because time was beginning to tick. Finals were a few weeks away, then the one-month long semestral break until a new semester kicks off. Time really flew by, and his bank account and heart expanded too. Enjoying the now was all he could think of doing, but those uncertainties bothered him.

The biggest would be where you and he would stand when his job ended.

Jeno was too absorbed in his internal debate, as portrayed by his eyes staring off in space and running his hand in his hair repeatedly. Something was disturbing him, and you’re concerned as to what it was.

“Jeno,” Around his arm, you tapped his chest to get him out of it. “What’s going on in your head?”

Jeno approached every obstacle he faces straightforwardly, not wanting to let him hold back. Rarely did he keep secrets, especially from you. Instead of hiding away, he voiced it out.

“(Y/N), will we work out?”

“What do you mean, Jeno?”

You’re so occupied in the present that thinking of the future was never in your field. Like him, you’re just enjoying being in the moment. Though after tonight, it’s making you wonder if there’s a future.

“Well,” He placed his hand on top of yours, affectionately observing you. “Times flies faster when you’re having fun, and well, the semester is ending.”

His last words crushed a part of your heart, remembering his initial plan. None of you expected your friendship to bloom into what it is now, but life was just full of surprises without a schedule. At the same time, none of you wouldn’t have it any other way.

It may have been a few months since you two committed to each other, but the spark was still strong. It wasn’t like a summer romance kind of feeling. Time was not a determinant of love either, which you were certain of it with Jeno. A lot more than Junmyeon.

It should’ve frightened you when you realized your love for Jeno, but it didn’t. Even if you didn’t age physically, your mindset did. You’ve learned to forgive your younger self, and through Jeno, you let your guard down completely. From that, you let love in. Platonic to your fellow art pieces, and all of the above to Jeno.

Throughout your relationship, you regained all confidence in yourself and everything you set your mind to.

“I wouldn’t want to worry too much about it if I were you.” Your body flipped to lie on your stomach, resting your head on your palm.

“Why shouldn’t I, angel?”

Gazing back at him, you left a velvety kiss on his lips to rest his thoughts. His hand wrapped your neck, deepening it. But you pulled away with a giggle, all too knowing of his secret intentions as his cock began to harden again. His eyes narrowed down and his lower lip stuck out at your attempt of being a tease.

But enough about sex, you wanted to address a point.

Lee Jeno was going to be the biggest risk you wanted to take and fight for, and no one should try to stop you.

“I’ll ask Circe for a potion. For me, for you, for us.”

If it weren’t for insistent questioning towards every art piece, who kept their mouths shut, only Circe herself banished him from his suffering. Her series of potions varied, and the one you requested years ago which you threw out was capable of turning any art piece into a living human. No potion of Circe ever failed, so you entrusted your life for the day you do drink it.

“Are you sure, angel?”

Jeno knew about that one specifically, and as great to hear that you never threw it out, he never put pressure on you. He wanted you to do whatever felt right, even if deep down, he wished you’d use it. He was only worried about how the flow of the entire museum would be disrupted.

Typical Jeno always looking out for you, but you saw right through his concern. Here you were, caressing his check as reassurance. With an honest smile,

“I’ve never been more certain with anything in my life here until you came, Lee Jeno.”

Jeno opened up more to his life outside the museum, telling all sorts of experiences not just his days as a university student. From his childhood, his family, his travels, heck you even want to meet his friends at this point!

Newly, he shared with you how the sunrise and sunset looked like in Seoul with much vivacity. It’s a luxury as a human to witness as day breaks and ends, so you could imagine by yourself how it would look like. Sure, you had drawings and all, but that was from the real (Y/N) (Y/L/N).

This version of you wanted to live more; that’s your greed now.

“You’ve never touched snow too, right?” Jeno, who had his arm wrapped around you, silently watched the first batch of snow from inside.

“Yup, that’s the thing when you’re imprisoned in this place.” You sulked by his side, earning a chuckle from him who pulled you in closer.

“Don’t tell me now that you despise this place.”

“I don’t, but it hinders me to experience new things. The whole pattern of being awake at night by a plate gets tiring, Jeno.”

All Jeno would do when you’re frustrated was placing your head on his shoulder, listening as you talk.

“I know, angel. But it won’t be long until you leave this place with me, right?”

“You know it!” You interlocked your hands with him, eyes trained at every falling snowflake.

Sometimes, moments in silence with Jeno were all you needed for the night. Being within each other’s presence, focusing or admiring something from afar, it was all the peace you’ve needed from the bustling art pieces.

This week was the last of the semester, and Jeno’s off duty for tonight to focus on his exams. You’ll see him tomorrow night, which was his last shift ever, and also yours too.

Perhaps the biggest milestone you’re committing to without any regrets.

However, it took an unnecessary conversation you accidentally eavesdropped on to rock your decision.

You needed more ink after running out mid-way of sketching the sculptures as a secret parting gift. Before you could take a single step inside your exhibit room, a series of voices were full-on arguing. Booming back and forth, you peeped your ear out whilst hiding against the door.

“Athena, how dare you did to her?! She’s done so well from moving on from it, falling in love even! And now you’re telling me this?!” The distinct voice of Princess Diana, who spoke sweetly most of the time, boomed towards the Greek god. “You’re heartless.”

“I did what I had to do for the sake of this place, Diana!” Athena raised her voice, the lightning in her hands holding back from lashing out. She hated it when anyone argued with her, especially when she does things according to what she believed was necessary. Out of everyone, she had more leadership. “She had to know that her place is here as a wax figure, not outside. Talking Junmyeon out of it was for the best, plus it’s ideal when he drank the potion of memory loss from Circe.”

“But it tore her apart when he left her, and it’s going to tear her again if you do the same with Jeno.”

“How else are you going to approach the situation then, Diana? Those two have broken the highest golden rule, so they need to wake up.”

Right when she celebrated within herself for healing, hearing the unbearable revelation behind the past devastated you. This whole time, she internally blamed herself for being ageless and lashed out at others. The scary past barged back in, and you couldn’t handle it anymore.

Somewhere in the corner, you wept without a trace. You could care less about Athena’s opinions, but you found yourself agreeing to some of her words. You had a role to fulfill, and leaving that behind would be selfish and it could make the museum go topsy-turvy. As painful for Junmyeon to leave you, it was because the truth hurts. Nothing could change it, even if Circe could be your solution because it’ll leave a lot of questions. You didn’t want Jeno to be seen as a suspect.

Oh, Jeno.

There’s nothing wrong with falling in love either, you didn’t intend it to happen. But it becomes unfair when it compromises with your purpose, and that’s not how you are. You’ll always remember Jeno as your biggest risk, though it’s time to end things. Treacherous as it was to accept for you, risk-takers have boundaries too.

Fast forward, on the night of Jeno’s last shift, you’ve cherished every second with him. Playing around, chatting with other art pieces, kissing in private, you made it count. Before dawn broke, that’s where you chose to come clean by the garden, your sacred place. Not even your self-reassurance could prepare you to witness the hurt and confusion Jeno felt.

“You’re a mortal, and you still get to choose your path. Mine is already predetermined here as a wax copy of a historical figure.” You advised as you held both his hands, your voice shaking at the reality.

A few days ago, you were beaming with exhilaration at a new journey but now you’ve permanently backed out. Jeno couldn’t comprehend, and as much as he tried, he couldn’t. A life without you by his side would be empty and dull. “Even so, there are things about you that the original person didn’t have.”

Arguing with him wasn’t your favorite, and it’ll leave the two of you in a bad mood. But there is no way to negotiate this; you’ve already made up your mind. “We must end this, Jeno. You need someone who can grow old with you, and I can’t be that person for you.”

“But we can make it work!” His hands gripped on your slumped shoulders, whilst your face avoiding his to spare yourself from the heartache. “There’s still Circe.”

“I know, but recently, I found out that she’s an indirect cause of my misery.” Pulling away from his touch, you belted with frustration. “I cannot do this anymore, Jeno.”

You’ve always fought for whatever you wanted in life, and Jeno knew he was one of them if it weren’t for you telling him that. So he did the same, thinking of ways to make you feel whole. Now, he couldn’t tolerate the sudden crumbling of his heart from your outburst, and all he wanted to know was why you felt this way. How could he help you?

You don’t keep secrets from Jeno, but the truth behind your harsh actions cannot be revealed for the sake of the museum. Plus, you didn’t want him to despise this place he admired. Causing him pain wasn’t on your list, but keeping him safe was. It may be shown differently and he may not understand it now, but over time, he will.

“Jeno, you’ll find someone better out there. Someone with their whole life ahead of them, who’ll love you for everything that makes you who you are.” Repetitive punches in your guts urged you to barf at your half-lie, but you held it in.

“Why are you pushing me away? What happened to taking risks, (Y/N)?” Jeno interrogated, taking your hands in his hands again. They unconventionally quivered, like his lips. Jeno has never cried in front of anyone, not even when he was younger. Though for you, he just might. “Am I not worth it for you?”

Dear heavens, he was wrong. You internally screamed that, but you can’t let your selfishness seize the night. As Athena said, you had to wake up from your dream. “Committing to you was my biggest risk of them all, Jeno. Everything else that went along with it, I don’t regret it one bit. But time’s really up for us, and we must resume our normal duties.”

“I can’t lose you, (Y/N).”

“You never will, Jeno.”

He crouched lower to meet your height, his finger moving your head so you’d look at him back. Weakly enough, you did. “I want you to be a part of my normal life, angel.”

“I’ll always be here, you know. I’ll be standing in my usual spot upstairs, and you can drop by whenever you can.” You pressed your lips, lifting your head to avoid incoming tears. Meanwhile, he began shedding a few. You’ve hurt him big time, and you’ll never forgive yourself for this. “I still have one wish, right?”

Jeno’s sorrow was beyond his capacity, leaning his forehead against yours to kiss it. No matter what he could say or do, he already knew it won’t be effective. You’re affirmative in your choices, yet he still wanted to challenge it. All he wanted to know was why you’re doing this.

“Let me walk you one last time to your section.”

The black night sky had remnants of blue, motioning that dawn was approaching. Other figures gave their goodbyes to Jeno earlier, cleaning up their areas before they pose. Though none of them anticipated such a cold atmosphere between you two, they could only spy on what was bound to happen.

“My last wish is for you to let me go, Jeno.” You avowed, blinking your eyes with faux positivity. Your hands patted his blazer so it wouldn’t crease. “I already have a role to fulfill here, and you’re on the way to yours, future architect.”

“I love you, (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” Only tonight did he muster his courage to finally admit it to you after giving himself more time to analyze it. Timing was always crucial, and the badness of it showed.

Deep in your heart, you resonated the feeling. But it’ll make things more complicated, and it was the final thing you’ve wanted to occur. Someone had to be the strong one, and now, it should be you. With one more compassionate kiss on his lips, you stepped inside your section and readied your position.

“Goodbye, Lee Jeno.”

The sunshine brightened the room, and you’ve frozen to slumber again.

All Jeno could do was drop on his knees, sobbing over your rash actions. Unknown to him, a single tear left your eye as you posed.

Regardless of what status you were in, the pain of it all remained.

Jeno spent most of his semestral break with his friends to travel or whatnot, trying to forget it all. Even if he aced all his finals, his efforts felt like nothing if he never had you by his side to celebrate.

The sting over his short-lived romance with you never diminished the slightest, no one whom he could express his pain about it to especially when Renjun drank the memory wipe potion that Athena initially left for Jeno by his desk.

Forget it all, and live a peaceful life. You have so much potential, my mentee.

- Athena

Perhaps this was the same thing Junmyeon drank all those years ago, but unlike him, he didn’t have the guts to. He still wanted another chance.

So every day since the new semester began, he spent every afternoon break at your section. He’ll be seated by the bench, doing his assignments and talking about his day while sometimes stealing a glance of your figure. Some habits don’t change.

He never got sick of the same smile you exemplified, falling even more for you. He’ll often wonder what you’ve been up to.

What are your new sketches?

Are you taking care of Mochi well?

Have you apologized to Sanghoon yet?

Speaking of him, he surprisingly scooted over to Jeno’s side. This was the first time Jeno met the man, and politely enough greeted him. Sanghoon interviewed the boy, asking all sorts of questions that Jeno had every answer to. The biggest change that Sanghoon noticed since he left was your personality. You no longer bite, but treat everyone kindly without bias. You’re always active to help him out in cleaning the lobby, and you don’t go easily defensive.

Once he found out that Jeno was the reason for that, he was overjoyed at the start and wanted to meet him some way. You were a tough cookie, but now you relaxed. That was all that mattered to him, hoping to know more about him from you. That was until Diana stepped in and told him everything that happened. Mostly, the bad.

Playfulness eventually bore love. The last time you fell in love was in the 80s and Junmyeon pushed you away, he recalled. This time, you’re pushing Jeno away because you simply agreed with Athena’s points.

This wasn’t right, but it wasn’t his place to interfere.

But then again, he finally caught Jeno for the first time today and this time, he was open to hearing his side of the story. Lessen his misery too.

“No matter how stubborn she is, she loves you.” He advised him, bringing out one of your full sketchbooks. As Jeno opened it, the majority of the portraits were him. Sleeping, smiling, laughing, you drew him from every minor detail you could spot like the mole near his eye and his crescent eyes.

A handsome face I would never get sick until the end of time. Someone I want to wake up to every day in the morning if it weren’t for that plate.

- (Y/N)

Towards the end, a sketch of a house unfolded. The interior was a fusion of modernity and old royal design due to its white walls, wide space, and the placing of less furniture, plus an open backyard. There’s another tiny comment on the side from you.

I was right. Joining our varying designs together is pretty. Maybe Jeno and I could live in a house like this one day.

- (Y/N)

If you loved him so much, why did you let him go then when you had all these plans with him? Even if he tried to understand, he just didn’t.

“Don’t give up just yet when she told you to.”

“Are you just saying this or something?”

“Well, Princess Diana passed this message on but after everything, I believe that she’s right.” Sanghoon gave his opinion, but Jeno was reluctant to accept it.

“I never got a proper explanation why she suddenly changed her mind, Sanghoon.” He ranted, raking his hand through his hair from puzzlement. “Did I do something wrong?”

Sanghoon pitied him, having the upper hand and questioning himself whether to reveal the truth. However, since this boy took the job, he’s succumbed to secrecy. Without any transparency, it could drive someone mad. He’s too young for that, so Sanghoon breathed in defeat and placed his hand on Jeno’s shoulder.

“Promise me you won’t be mad when I tell you because I was when I found out; almost screamed even.”

Jeno nodded, listening to whatever Sanghoon had to say.

Of all people, he never would’ve expected Athena to do such a brash thing. Someone he respected and trusted, only to betray him by doing something she believed was good for all. Except it wasn’t, and it ended up hurting you all these years. The woman he loved, now he’s a clearer understanding of why you did what you did. Yet, it can’t fix his excruciation.

Heartbroken was an understatement; he had no one to rely on. With Sanghoon, he finally had a proper breakdown. The older man could only comfort his quietly, picturing him like one of his sons going through a hard time in school. But if it involves the heart, it’ll take more time to recover.

“You’re always the one adjusting, Jeno. But I think this time, you’re the one who needs space.”

A Year and a Half Later

“Jeno Lee!!!” Jaemin roughly wallowed his best friend in a hug when he arrived in their dorm room for the first time in a long time. “You dyed your hair blonde again!”

Renjun, who was behind the two of them, only rolled his eyes as he helped carry Jeno’s bags. “God damn it, Jaemin! You’re supposed to be helping me first!”

“I know, but give me a few seconds! I’m just happy our group is back together!”

Jeno laughed at his friends’ annoying yet silly dynamics, giddy to be back home. For a year, Jeno spent his 3rd year of university in Rome, Italy after one of his professors brought up to him about a scholarship program there for his course. At the time where he needed a change of scenery, he sent his application form and got interviewed.

Acing it, he had the opportunity to fly across the world to study and travel. His English skills surely improved, even picking up Italian words along the way due to a required class for it. He studied the history of different locations and how they were built.

He also went on field trips almost every day if it weren’t for the Italian students assigned to tour him around, academic and non-academic. Nights he spent on drinking wine on the rooftop of his dorm with them, screaming his complaints in the world with them.

It didn’t hit him that his stay was reaching its end until he submitted his final plate. His goodbye party didn’t even feel like one, but a see you later in the next few years after he becomes a licensed architect with money. His goal of it felt more realistic, motivating him to excel in his remaining years in university.

After unpacking half of his things, he was reminded of an email from one of the head professors, who requested another copy of his confidential documents from the Italian university he went to as soon as he’s back on campus.

He raced to the department with a folder of them and luckily encountered the said professor. Handing it to him, this professor questioned how he was and what experiences he gained from the trip. With excitement, Jeno spoke all sorts of tales from his adventures, highlighting how determined he was now to be an architect.

“That’s great to hear, Jeno!” He celebrated, checking on his watch, and widened his eyes. Frantic at his colliding schedules, he asked Jeno for a favor. It turned out that at the same time as his emergency meeting, he’s supposed to tour the new transferee student around campus.

“Only if you have time, Jeno! I could always ask another student, plus you just came back and need rest.”

“It’s not like I left for a decade, sir. No worries, I’ll do it.”

“Oh, bless your soul.” He put his hands together in prayer position, bowing back and forth with gratitude. “Wait, she’s right outside! Go ahead and introduce yourself.”

Jeno nodded, exiting right through the department doors. This girl had her back turned, inspecting her surroundings. She wore a black and white tweed blazer that matched with her skirt, black high heeled boots, and a black handbag. She must be a foreigner, Jeno thought.

“Excuse me, are you the transferee in the department of Architecture?”

Jeno didn’t brace himself for the surprise he’d face once this girl reacted to him calling her out. Her face was one he could never forget, no matter how many times he told himself to. The same face he convinced his heart to stop beating for, yet it lied.

This radiant face was none other than yours.

Jeno almost dropped his phone. He tried his best to hold on to your promise, but he failed. It was the main reason he studied abroad; to forget and focus on his career path. So the least thing he could’ve done was to study hard for his dream career.

Just a glimpse of you projected back every single memory you’ve had together. Beautiful yet heart-wrenching, he kept his emotions to himself.

You even wore the rose necklace he got you. Could it be?

“It’s been a while, Lee Jeno.” You took the metaphorical scissors to cut the tension, trying to contain the crushing feelings. The faculty center was a public place, yet it’s like the two of you were on the main stage.

“Do you remember me?” Astounded, you nodded. Every single detail.

Jeno could’ve ran away, but didn’t. He could’ve left you hanging, but didn’t. He can no longer count how many times you’ve appeared in his dreams, only to be disappointed when morning comes to not have you in his arms. He took one step closer, taking his time.

“How do you know me?”

“You’re the boy whom I helped with his assignment, argued with me over Romeo and Juliet,” You mimicked his move, making you one step nearer to him. “And most of all, the boy I once gave my entire heart to.”

Another step, leaving a few inches between the two of you. His heart palpitated without caffeine. What if he was napping in his dorm again? It was all surreal. “Is it really you, (Y/N)?”

Hearing your name from his lips lowered your guard, you pleased him with a hopeful grin. “I’d be dust by now if I didn’t drink Circe’s potion, right?”

That’s where Jeno unchained himself from his emotions. He engulfed in a warm hug, one that has no plans to let go when his chin planted on your shoulder. You returned the gesture, dropping all your worries away along with your bag and papers as your arms snaked through his neck.

You knew you had to part ways for a while after everything, though you were unsure how he’d feel about it. You recalled every time he visited you after his job ended up until his intense chat with Sanghoon, where he bawled his heart out. You couldn’t take it anymore after trying to stay strong, crying as soon as you woke up that night.

All your fellow figures could do was soothe you down like before to the best of their abilities, yet this time, it was unsuccessful. You’re filled with misery, realizing later how much of a big mistake you’ve made.

You’ve isolated yourself again for a while, but less rudeness and more silence. It was until Circe visited you. She doesn’t like getting involved with drama, though now was different. She, alongside Hera and Aphrodite, couldn’t withstand you tolerating the heartbreak again. So they went behind Athena’s back on this one time and created a potion together just for you. But with a compromise.

“This potion can turn you into a human. However, there’s only a 10% chance you’ll regain all your memories from this place.”

“So I’ll forget everyone and him?”

“Yes, unfortunately.” You’re about to shoo her away, not in the mood to do something drastic as that. But Circe grabbed your arm again. “I strongly believe that if you and he meant to be, then there will come a time these past memories will suddenly surge at you.”

“Must I need to forget to live properly?”

You’re stubborn, and Circe expected it. “You’ve broken so many golden rules, (Y/N), so it must be done. I’ve gone against Athena for this potion, and rarely have I done that. So rather than wallowing up in misery, you should focus on yourself. Do what makes you happy because this place is trapping you from every great thing out there.”

Those were the word that the actual (Y/N) (Y/L/N) lived by, nevertheless, you’re unique from her. You built a separate identity from her. “But Jeno-”

“At the right time, (Y/N). Pull yourself together and do all the things you’ve dreamt of before he came into the picture. I just know he loves you that much, and that he will wait for you.”

That same night, you gathered all your senses and drank it. The transition was fast as lightning speed, and behold, you were like a new person. You’re back in London, with a family that closely resembled your former one; only 3 older siblings, making you the youngest. You also had a new set of memories, from childhood until your adult years.

From (Y/N) (Y/L/N), you became (Y/N) Edwards.

It took one drunken night out with your university friends for the unlikely surge of old memories to speedily hit through your intoxicated state. Way beyond a dream, you’ve dropped your shot glass and broke down in the bathroom of your dorm room. You left something unaccomplished, and you had to do something before it’s too late.

Thus, you rushed to Seoul thanks to your parents’ support as they agreed that exploring outside your home country was a great experience. The only excuse you gave to your friends for the sudden transfer was you finding a new calling.

Sure, studying abroad was an exciting thing but you’re more determined to reunite with him. Even if this encounter was unforeseen, it was bound to happen one day. It so turned out that you had the same major in your former university and this new one.

Head to toe, you remembered everything.

“I’m so sorry I took so long.” You cradled your head on his chest, unaware of how your new life left Jeno so troubled.

“That doesn’t matter anymore.” Jeno tightened his grip, scared of releasing you again. Those two years felt like a breath of fresh air and a punch in the gut. “I tried to live up to your last wish, but I really can’t.”

“I want to take that wish back, Jeno. I wasn’t thinking right and only ended putting you through so much.”

“Oh, angel. I slowly understood why you did it.” Before he got too fragile, he softened his grip on you and showed his face again to you. He wanted a better look at his pretty girl, his fingers brushing strands of your hair behind your ear. Heart-fluttering, you bit your bottom lip. “What would you want to wish for instead?”

“Instead of you letting me go, I wish you could take me back and love me again. I can’t undo the past, but I’d still like to think I’ve tried my best.” That was the only wish you could ever think of. As huge as it was, it was something he may not accept. Yet you gave it a go, risking it all. “I don’t deserve you at all, Jeno.”

“Don’t say that, (Y/N).” One of his hands grabbed yours, putting it on his cheek. Cupping it, “I’ve never stopped loving you, you know.”

Oh, love. An all-too familiar emotion that either makes or breaks you. Of all the times you could’ve said those words, you held back, especially that wretched night you two broke it off. Although you showed it, being able to say it to someone felt more empowering.

This was finally the chance you’ve unconsciously waited for.

“I’m stupid for not saying this sooner.”

“What is it?”

With intimate eye contact, you drowned in the comfort of his brown orbs. You trusted him then, and you trusted him now. “I love you, Lee Jeno.”

Secretly, Jeno anticipated for the day you’d say those meaningful 3 words. Just like you, he showed more affection through actions than words. He only admitted when he lost you, and never would he do the same mistake again. If he felt that the love was strongly present, he will say it aloud.

“I love you still, (Y/N).” His arm around your waist tugged you in further. “I loved you as (Y/N) (Y/L/N) and I will continue to love you as (Y/N) Edwards.”

He peeked on your ID earlier, but regardless, he stood by his truth. You’re still the same (Y/N).

Finally, he closed the limited space between your lips. The memories of your past romance replayed in sync of every touching kiss, popping one leg up like in the movies. The Princess Diaries, specifically. Like in the museum from your unbearable parting, one warm tear freed itself down your cheek.

The sweetness of being reunited with you again beat the torturous wait of Jeno. Time really made your hearts grow fonder. As everyone said, if the love between two people is real, then it’ll find its way back to each other.

The world must be on your side too because no professor called you two out on your public display of affection. Jeno pecked your lips one time before stepping away, picking up the things you dropped.

“Now come on, I have to tour you around as instructed.”

You stomped on your feet, rolling your eyes from being left hanging. He’s still the same tease from before. “After that kiss though, I would’ve thought we could reschedule it.”

“No can do, Edwards.” Passing over your things, he wrapped one arm around you as he escorted you out of the building. The university was huge, with more buildings and green fields surrounded everywhere. “Left or right? There are a lot of places you missed out on all those years.”

“Point taken. Then you lead the way, my love.”

346 notes · View notes

evolmaze · 4 years ago

Text

bts hyung line find/hear your confession

summary - hyung line finds or hears your confession

pairing - jin x reader, young x reader, hoseok x reader, namjoon x reader

genre - fluff, angst, comfort

word count - 3.1k words

warnings - some angst, otherwise pretty harmless!

a/n: parts for the maknae line will be out soon!

masterlist

JIN

You had spent weeks racking your brain for some sort of answer, for an explanation why you suddenly thought your friend and neighbor from down the hall was the only person for you. It had happened so quickly, you didn’t even realize. One night you’re watching a movie together, something you’ve done at least once a month, and the next thing you know your heart is racing at the idea of him being in the same room as you. You had no idea why you started to feel this way, but the instant you realized, you couldn’t stop yourself from constantly watching him, thinking of him, wondering what in the world you were gonna do.

You were currently on the phone with your best friend, complaining to her for the hundredth time about how rude it was that Jin thought it was perfectly normal to walk around the laundry room shirtless, “I mean come on f/n, he’s so hot it should be illegal. The man has the body of a god, and I as an innocent bystander should at least be given a warning before walking into it!”

“What do you mean ‘walked into it’?” she asked, amusement in her voice, and you groaned.

“I was doing laundry the other day, and I ran right into him as he was leaving the room, I dropped my clothes everywhere, and he totally saw my underwear and bras, but that’s not the point, the point is that he was shirtless, he was laughing at his clumsiness, and it was the hottest thing I had ever seen.”

It was at that moment that Jin had walked up to your door, preparing to ask you to borrow your hammer, when he heard your voice faintly through the wall.

“F/n, I don’t know what to do, I’ve literally never felt this way about someone before, and it’s not like I can even say anything, we barely know each other--yes I know we’ve hung out before, but everything feels different now, I don’t know what I’m going to do. I’ll probably pass out the next time I see him, and if he’s not wearing a shirt again, oh my fucking god, plan my funeral please.”

Jin laughed quietly, deciding he could ask for the hammer later, he had other plans to attend to, like making sure to ask you about this supposed incident the next time he was in the laundry room; shirt conveniently off for your viewing pleasure.

YOONGI

“Hey I have a question,” Yoongi mused, turning down the radio. You and Yoongi were on your way to a cabin up north, planning to meet some friends there for a fun weekend getaway. You’d been on the road for almost two hours now, and he had decided that it was time to break the silence that had settled between the two of you.

“Yeah what’s up?” you asked, closing your book, and setting it in your bag. You waited as he beat his fingers rhythmically against the steering wheel.

“Who’s Voldemort?” you froze in your seat, and turned to him slowly, gauging his expression. How the hell did he know about that?

“Why do you ask?” you said slowly, thankful for your sunglasses that hid your panicked expression.

“When you asked me to grab your bag from your room, there was an envelope addressed to ‘Voldemort’sitting on it. Do you have a pen pal or something?”

No, no you did not have a pen pal. Stupidly, you had written your feelings to Yoongi out on paper, an ode to all the boys i’ve loved before. You planned to store it away forever, never to be read again, in hopes of riding this stupid crush from your heart. All you wanted was peace, and the ability to hang with him without the looming cloud of love stalling over your head, but you must have forgotten to put it away before you left.

“Uh, no, no it’s not that,” you muttered, trying you best to sound nonchalant. “Just a letter I was writing to someone, probably won’t send it though.”

“Their name isn’t actually Voldemort, is it?”

You laughed, “No it’s not. It’s a pseudonym, my friends and I used it all the time to talk about boys we liked in middle school.”

Yoongi sat in silence for a second, and you hoped that that was the end of the conversation. “Do you like this Voldemort?”

You paled, and cleared your throat. “Uh, I don’t know, it’s complicated. I’m trying to get over them, so it’s probably best to not talk about it.”

Yoongi nodded, and didn’t say much for a while, and you assumed that was the end of it, thank god. The drive went on in silence, and you calmed down a bit, mentally cheering for evading a disastrous situation. You even talked with Yoongi about other topics like the weekends upcoming events, and how excited you were to try this new soju flavor. It was nice, peaceful, and definitely less stressful then the previous conversation. That was until you both started talking about college and first impressions. You had been explaining your thoughts on your other friends Namjoon and Lia when he stopped you.

“Wait,” he said suddenly, “Didn’t you and Lia have nicknames for everyone?”

“Yeah, we made up nicknames for everyone based on Harry Potter characters...” you said, trailing off on the end as you connected the dots.

“Yeah!” Yoongi exclaimed, oblivious. “Like yours was Ginny, Joon’s was Lupin, mine was..” he paused, looking over at you suspiciously. “Mine was Voldemordt, right?”

You shook your head, “Noooo, yours was something else I think.”

“Hmm, no I’m pretty sure it was Voldemordt,” he said. “Cause you and Lia always joked about how I was pale just like him,” You didn’t say anything in response, instead finding the dirt under your nails way more interesting.

“Y/n...” he called, pulling you from your thoughts. You didn’t look at him, too embarrassed to talk about it. “Hey, it’s fine, seriously.”

“Ah, can we please not talk about it,” you whined, putting your head in your hands. This was so awkward. You had written a middle school crush letter to the man sitting right next to you, and you still had to spend the whole weekend and ride back with him, great.

“Okay,” he said simply, tapping rhythmically on the steering wheel again. “I guess I’ll just have to wait to read it.”

“Oh no way, you’re not reading it!” you yelled, facing him as adrenaline raced through your veins. “I’m burning it the second we get back.”

“But why? I wanna hear all the nice things you said about me, you never compliment me in person.”

“Shut up,” you said, a blush blossoming on your cheeks. He laughed, lightly swatting your knee.

“So mean,” he teased. He lifted his hand to pull your hand from your face. You looked up, surprised by his action. He was never one for skinship, especially with you. “You know I’m joking, right?”

You nodded, “Yeah, no, I do, no worries, it’s fine”

“Good,” he said simply, bringing his hand back down the arm rest, except he hadn’t let go of your hand, so yours followed suit, held in his grasp. You stared intently at your intertwined hands, and then looked at him, confused. He was staring straight ahead, but you could see the smile forming on his face, and the red hue on his cheeks as well. Looks like you weren’t the only one with a secret.

HOSEOK

Hey y/n! Do you have a copy of the notes from last class that I can borrow?

You smiled at your phone, Hoseok had definitely slept through class again this week, and as always, you were more than willing to share notes, any excuse to talk to him, right?

Yeah for sure! Give me one sec and I’ll send you a link to my notes

You had always preferred to take notes on your computer, you could type way faster than you could write, so in fast-paced lectures it just made sense. You found the document within a folder the two of you shared information. With Hoseok consistently sleeping through one class every other week, and you having such detailed notes, it made much more sense to just put all your notes in a folder he could access. You found the latest document with your notes, and quickly shared it with him.

Just sent it now, it’s in the folder with all the other ones in case you need them too! Let me know if you have any questions!

Sounds great, thank youuuuu!!!

You grinned at his response before going back to your studying. He usually had questions, so you were a little surprised when he never texted you back. You figured maybe he understood it better than you, and made a mental note to ask him some questions next time you saw him. You went about the rest of your day, finishing up your homework, getting your laundry washed and put away, and four hours later, still no word from Hoseok.

“So weird,” you mumbled to yourself as you grabbed your keys. You had talked about meeting him for dinner tonight, so you wondered if he was still up for it.

Hey are you still up for dinner tonight? Hope studying is going well!

After 10 minutes, and no response, you grew worried and annoyed, so you decided to just walk over to his place yourself. The walk was short, you jammed the whole way, wondering what you’d get tonight, and hoping that your professor would put out grades soon. Walking into the dorm, you passed a number of doors before standing outside Hoseok’s.

You knocked three times, and waited patiently for him to answer. The door creaked open slowly, and you watched as his head appeared in the crack. He stared at you and said nothing.

You cleared your throat, “Uh, hey. I texted, but you didn’t answer, are you still down for dinner tonight?” He said nothing still, and you sighed. “It’s fine if you’re busy, I can go. Text me next time you’re free to hang.” You didn’t mean to sound annoyed, but you were hurt, confused why he was acting this way all of the sudden, especially with no explanation. Waving goodbye, you turned on your heel and walked down the hallway. You made it about three steps before he called out your name.

“Y/n, wait, I’m sorry.” turning around, confused, you saw him open the door. “Please come in.” He gave you a half smile, and you sighed, ignoring the smile that sat on your face as you entered his dorm. It was dark, his blinds were drawn, and it looked like a hurricane had come through here, which was odd since he was usually so clean.

“Hey what happened here? Everything okay?” you asked, worried, when you turned to face him he was standing by his desk, computer in hand.

“I--I, um, need you to read this,” he said, handing you his computer. You raised an eyebrow, and turned the computer around. As your eyes adjusted to the bright screen in the otherwise dark room, your heart dropped into your stomach.

It was about a week ago when you wrote a letter to Hoseok. It was 2 in the morning, you were so tired, but you couldn’t sleep, the whirlwind of thoughts running through your mind were too much to handle, so you wrote them all down. Wrote down everything you wanted to say, and closed your computer, never intending to read it again. What you had failed to notice that night was that you created the document inside a folder, the very folder you shared with the man in front of you. You had carelessly titled the document to hoseok so it’s no surprise that he clicked on it, he probably thought it was a funny message to him, but instead he got a look right inside your heart.

You looked up to see him already watching you closely. He looked pained, confused, and most of all angry. “Why would you say those things?”

“I, I, uh--” you paused, you knew at the time it was wrong to write them. He had a girlfriend, they’ve been together for almost a year, and they were so happy together, and you had no problem with that. You loved Julia, and had even introduced the two, but you also couldn’t help how you felt, you had no intention of him ever reading this, you felt awful. “I swear, I didn't realize this was in here, Hoseok I’m so sorry.”

“But you wrote it, and put it in this folder, you must have known I would have seen it at some point.” he protested, coming closer to you.

“I swear, I didn’t do it on purpose, I opened it in the wrong folder, I, oh my god, Hoseok I swear to god I never wanted you to read that.” you said, tears filling your eyes. You had jeopardized everything with your carelessness. He took the computer from your hands and set it on the desk. You couldn’t look him in the eyes as he sat next to you on his bed.

“I believe you,” he said quietly, and you nodded. “I’m sorry there’s not more I can say.”

You shook your head, “Why are you apologizing, it’s not your fault. I was the one who put it in the wrong folder. At least the worst part is over though,” you laughed weakly at the statement, the worst was far from over, but at least you could stop staying up at night wondering what he thought about you. “I’m sorry that you’re in such a weird position, I promise that I’m working on it, I’ve been trying to get over it.”

“You don’t have to apologize for what you feel, y/n.” he said, standing up in front of you. “This is nobody’s fault, let’s go get dinner and talk it out, yeah?”

You smiled at his attempt to smooth things over, you agreed, but a part of you wondered as you walked out the door how long it would last before you grew distant and never spoke again. For now, you’d cherish these last few memories with him, and always remember the times before it.

NAMJOON

“Just say it,”

“No!”

“Why not?!”

“Cause I already told you no!” you sighed in annoyance, flipping through another page in the magazine you were currently reading, or trying to read at least, until Namjoon showed up and rudely interrupted you.

“Come on, y’n, I need to practice!” you laughed at him, practice? What in the world was he thinking?

“You’re not seriously saying you want to practice this,” you said, setting down the magazine and facing him. He looked at you, and you realized he was serious. “Ugh, fine.”

He grinned, happy that he had finally convinced you to help him out. All of this started about a week ago when Namjoon caught wind that a girl in his bio class had a crush on him, the man absolutely lost it, so flustered and confused, he didn’t know what to do. You felt like you were watching a cheesy romantic comedy with the way he came to you, pacing back and forth in your living room. He was totally clueless, had no idea what to do, and came to you for help. You had been around the block a time or two when it came to dealing with situations like this, so it was no surprise that he wanted your expertise on how to politely reject someone.

It wasn’t that the girl in Namjoon’s bio class was awful or anything like that, it was the fact that Namjoon barely had time to live his own life, let alone make room for someone else. You were lucky if you spoke to him once a week, you practically had a heart attack when he showed up today. He explained to you the rumor he had heard, and how he had also heard that she was going to confess after their next class together. All of that combined was enough to stress the man into oblivion, so he desperately asked for your help.

“y/n thank you so much, I just don’t want to hurt her feelings, you know?”

“You’re literally the nicest person I know, there’s no way she would leave feeling anything but mildly sad, knowing you, you'd probably offer to pay for her bus fare home.” The look on his face had you laughing as it looked as though he was seriously considering it. “I’m kidding, Joon. Don’t do that.”

“What?” he said, “I definitely wasn’t gonna do that.”

You smirked at his obvious lie, “Whatever, let’s get this over with.” Taking a breath, you tried to get into character: a biology girl who likes Namjoon. “Hey Namjoon,” you said, trying to sound flirty and leaned casually on the side of the couch.

“Hey, y/n-”

“Don’t use my name,” you laughed, “use her name.”

“Oh okay,” he said, and he took a breath before looking into your eyes, “Hey, Emily. What’s up?”

“Nothing much, I actually had something I wanted to talk to you about,” you said, getting up from the couch, and walking over to where he stood by the kitchen island.

“Oh what’s that?” he asked, moving away from you just a bit. Your act must have been spot on, you smirked.

“I have feelings for you, Joon.” you said, trying to sound nervous and excited, however the hell someone sounded when they admitted their feelings. You were never one to discuss such personal topics, probably the reason why you were single at 23, but whatever, you liked it that way. Poor Namjoon looked terrified, and you’d take being single over being the cause of a situation like this any day.

“Oh,” he said simply, and you raised your eyebrows at him. “I-oh, I’m sorry, y/n--Emily, I’m way too busy for a relationship right now, I’m sorry.”

You grinned at his attempt, it was weak, but you’d work on it. By the end of the night, he’d be confident and sound sure of his feelings, you could feel it.

“Okay,” you said, patting his shoulder. “That was good, but next time sound more sure of yourself, your reasons are perfectly valid, and if she’s as nice as you say she is, I’m sure she’ll understand. Again.”

#bts imagines #bts fluff friends to lovers #bts fluff imagines #bts #bts hyung line #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #jhope #jin #yoongi #namjoon #jin imagines #yoongi imagines #rm #namjoon imagines #jhope imagines

70 notes · View notes

anika-ann · 5 years ago

Text

Attached - Pt.1

The Words of Doom

Type: (mini)-series, college AU, professor AU (technically)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 1880

Summary for the series: You messed up. Your very sleep-deprived Self attached the wrong document when emailing a professor and sent him one of the stories you wrote instead of an assignment. It should be embarrassing, really, but it wasn’t. It was worse.

Why did it have to be the smutty one? Why did it have to be the one starring his best friend, Professor Rogers? You were so screwed.

Aka the ‘you sent the wrong attachment to hot professor A that just happens to be about his friend hot professor B and now professor A is not able to look at professor B without wheezing in laughter anymore and you are unable to look at either of them’ AU

Warnings: swearing, literally one mention of a possible daddy kink, double entendre

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Your eyes felt like on fire, burning hotter than the sun above Sahara Desert; the metaphor your sleep-deprived mind came up with was only perfected by the huge dunes of the bags under your eyes.

You were running on disgustingly strong coffee and three energy drinks, but you summoned the rest of your strength and clicked on ‘send’, slumping so heavily into your chair that when your back hit the backrest, it almost toppled over—but never mind, you made it!

Penny, your gracious roommate, would inform you that had you started earlier and were writing the actual essay instead of wasting words on steamy stories that somehow filled the desired wordcount with considerably less effort, you wouldn’t have been turning into a zombie sending assignments several minutes before eight a.m., the actual deadline.

Yeah, well, sue me, I prefer romance to the World War II., no matter how important history is.

You were certain Professor Barnes would understand if you told him that anyway – he was a pretty easy-going guy for a scholar after all. Then again, you sure as hell didn’t want to test the theory out and so you tended to hand in your homework perhaps ‘minute to midnight’, but still in time.

You grinned as you checked the sent e-mail, proudly reading it had been sent at 7:56. You mentally patted your back, not having the energy to actually move to do that.

And then your Sahara-dry eyeballs fell lower on the screen and you let out a shriek of horror.

Your heart stopped in your chest before kicking in faster than it had been pumping after three Red Bulls.

The attachment.

Oh no.

OH FUCK, the attachment!

Now, it happened on occasion that people forgot to attach the files they spoke of in an e-mail, right? Sometimes shit like that happened.

But this… this was so, so much worse.

“Oh no,” you uttered under your breath, shooting up and suddenly sitting with back straight as a ruler just to look at the screen from shorter distance to-- nope, still there. “Oh fuck.”

You quickly scrambled to send another e-mail with similar text but the right file, along with a swift apology.

Sent 7:59.

You should be relieved. Perhaps Professor Barnes would notice the correct one first and automatically deleted the one that obviously must have been wrong.

So why couldn’t you find it in you to think you would have such luck?

At least if he opened the wrong document, he would understand very quickly that it was not what he had asked the students to do and would delete it before diving in fully, right?

But a worm of doubt – or intuition, whatever you wanted to call it – told you that it wouldn’t be the case.

You covered your mouth with your palms and screamed at the top of your lungs.

Penny, sleep-deprived considerably less than you because she was an actual responsible human being, walked from her room to the bathroom and blatantly ignored you, probably thinking you had missed the deadline by a minute and were now freaking out.

Oh, you wished.

“Pennyyyyyyyyy!” you cried out in a whiny tone, but she clicked the door shut as if nothing was happening. As if your whole life wasn’t in shambles because of one single e-mail. “Penelope, you get your ass back here! I need to know how to switch schools without having to repeat a year!”

Her wild black curls peeked from the bathroom, followed by an annoyed sleep-raspy voice. “Why? You accidently called Barnes a daddy in your message or somethin’?”

Your heart was still beating its way out of your chest, a low ominous hum in your ears. Gods above, you wished. Still would be easier to explain, like… you could claim it was a dare or something.

No, this was much, much worse.

Penny, apparently taken aback by the lack of your response, left the safety of the bathroom and approached your lair (probably stinking of sugary drinks and caffeine) and peeked over your shoulder, searching an explanation for your antics.

You only gulped, moved the cursor to the title of the document you had sent in your first e-mail and closed your eyes, actually feeling tears of humiliation stinging in them.

The silence that followed spoke volumes until-

“OH SHIT.”

You had just shared your smutty one-shot with your history professor, but that wasn’t even the worst part. The worst part was that it was starring his rumoured one and only best friend he shared an office with. One who had acted like a substitute for two weeks when Professor Barnes got a particularly bad case of cold, but wouldn’t leave you without a lecture. Needless to say, Professor Rogers had also starred several of your steamy dreams after that and became a source of inspiration for your occasional writing streaks.

And now your history professor could read all about it and, god forbid, share it with the man who was the template of the main character of the story. You weren’t dumb; you alternated the names, just in case of you didn’t even know what (and it might have made you feel better about writing filthy stuff about a prof), but you went with the same looks including hair and skin colour, hairstyle, Rogers’ glorious beard and you certainly didn’t omit his surprisingly ripped body.

So, yeah. Penny’s ‘OH SHIT’ was pretty accurate.

You were so screwed.

Yes, once again, you wished.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

You had handed in your work on Friday morning and had been jittery all weekend, practically unable to focus on any of the studying you desperately needed to do. Normally, you might write some comforting piece to relieve your frustration, but that was not an option right now as simply opening a text editor gave you palpitations.

The all-nighter you had pulled didn’t exactly help your already non-existent ability to get your head on straight either.

You were looking forward to Monday and dreaded it at the same time – Professor Barnes was to give your assignments back with a mark and commentary. You were praying for Monday to come already, because you just needed to know the consequences of your actions. You were freaking out about Monday for very obvious reasons.

You had no idea what was happening in your first Monday class. Your lunch consisted of half bottle of coke.

And now here you were, seated in the second row of three, because that seemed like the safest place, a seat where Barnes couldn’t approach you from any angle.

When he entered the class, you decided to stubbornly watch the desk in front of you. Under any circumstances, you would not make eye-contact, wouldn’t raise your gaze. There was no fucking way anything would force you look his in the eye.

Or you thought so.

You hadn’t realized he would call out each of your names and would say the necessary commentary about doing well, missing something, excellent work, this one feeling a bit sloppy… out loud, which would made it truly impolite to keep staring ahead. With each work sent through the sea of people to hand it to those in the second row, your stomach was turning heavier, your heart beating faster.

And then Professor Barnes said your name and you winced in your seat, squeezing your eyes shut on instinct, the childish if I can’t see you, you can’t see me either kicking in.

He called out your name again as if there was a chance you missed it the first time and with a huge lump of panic in your throat, you blinked your eyes open and raised your gaze, only to meet his neutral face with just the tinniest twitch to the corners of his lips and a barely visible twinkle to his eye.

Your stomach dropped to the floor, your face burning with embarrassment and humiliation.

He held out the papers to the person in the first row in front of you, whose name you didn’t care for at the moment, and nodded his head.

“Not bad at all,” he said and that was the end of it.

Your essay landed in front of you and you finally breathed in properly, your hand trembling slightly as you noticed the circled B+ in the corner.

You were deaf to his next words, your heart jumping as you read the note by the mark.

B for the cliché used, + for the originality.

Huh. What a strange way to word an evaluation… but hey, you wouldn’t complain. For one, no one had filled a harassment complaint for your stupid ass so far and you had written this shit during an all-nighter and still got B+. This was the best outcome you could hope for; Barnes didn’t even give you shit about your... error.

A smile slowly found a way to your lips, a shy little thing, but definitely present, your mimic muscles, so stiff from trying to keep a poker face, relaxing.

You browsed over the other notes in red ink scattered over the pages, some sentences and phrases unlined and commented on, sometimes corrected, sometimes complimented to.

It wasn’t until you reached the red note that had one word from it actually crossed out and replaced.

Really hits the spot mark.

Your smile froze on your lips, your heart ceased to beat before kicking in with furious pace, loud pounding humming in your temples.

Oh god. Oh no.

Hitting a spot? He could have written it was ‘spot on’ or that it ‘hit the mark’… he made the mistake deliberately, you were certain of it – all of his other notes were so neat and thought through-

You checked the individual notes, your stomach twisting when you re-read them in a new light.

Nearly all the wording he had used was referencing to your… special assignment you had handed in.

Oh god, please, let the lightning hit me. Let the floor swallow me. Let the cardiac arrest momentarily trying to kill me actually kill me.

Interesting work for certain with a winky face?! Really? That would be innocent enough on its own, but it was feeling like a conspiratorial wink. The I know more than I let on and you know what I’m talking about wink.

The next one was a blatant double-entendre and you could bang your head against your desk for not realizing it first time reading it. Good writing, nice flow, clearly heading to the climax.

Your face was set aflame once more and despite your better judgement, you glanced at the professor momentarily showing whatever in his presentation.

He caught your gaze and had the audacity to wink.

You snapped your head away and silently whined, sliding down your chair nearly enough to lie on the floor.

OH. MY. FUCKING. GOD.

Why did it have to be the smutty one you sent? Why couldn’t it be a cute one at least? You had loads of those! Why did it have to be the one about Steven damn Rogers, his friend?

Why, just WHY?!

Professor Barnes had definitely read it. And for some reason, you had a hunch that he had showed it to his friend slash colleague he shared an office with too.

You whined some more and pretended that this day was the apocalypse and that you would never have to face either of the professors ever again.

Of course, you could not have such luck.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Part 2

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

There it is! Shorter chapter for starters. Just you wait ;)

I’m pretty sure something like this have been written before, but plot bunnies are little shits that refuse to leave no matter how much you kick them and beg them to go away.

I blame @pies-writes-and-more @kayteewritessteve and @queen-kass-the-writer for supporting bad behaviour, but they are not the only ones. You know who you are, don’t YOU? I am a weak human being and you are corrupting me. Thanks, sweeties ;)

Thank you for reading!

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Tags: @scentedsongrebel @patzammit @donutloverxo @annathesillyfriend @orions-nebula @iheartsebastianstan @wxstedhexrt

If anyone wants on the taglist or out, lemme know via DM or an ask :)

-.-.-

ALSO. A friend of mine created a perfect artwork for this chapter/series and I wanted to share 😍🥰🤩:

Thank you, @chase-your-dreams-away 🥺

#marvel #fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #college au #professor au #professor!steve rogers #professor!bucky barnes #bucky barnes #captain america x you #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #student!reader #mcu #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfic #attached #anika ann

598 notes · View notes

thatfanficstuff · 5 years ago

Text

Wait. What? - NCIS

Pairing: Just read it.

Warning/Note: I don’t know what this is. This is Chaos in written form.

***

Tony kept glancing up from his work to watch you digging through paperwork. You were new to the team and this was your first case with them but you were no stranger to field work. Gibbs himself had recruited you from the FBI convinced you would be a better fit at NCIS. So far you seemed competent though you were a little quiet for Tony’s liking. There was also a weird dynamic between you and Gibbs he hadn’t figured out yet.

Gibbs was in MTAC while the rest of the team dug through evidence that had already been gone over twice trying to find what they needed to arrest the man they were all sure was guilty of the crime. You hopped to your feet grabbing Tony’s attention once more. You snatched a file off your desk and hurried over to sit in Gibbs chair while you sorted through the paperwork on the boss’s desk.

Oh God. Tony kind of liked you. He didn’t want you getting killed on your first case. “Probie, what are you doing?”

You ignored him as you continued to dig through files.

“Y/N,” he hissed again.

You marked your place with your finger and glanced up at him clearly annoyed at the interruption.

Were you nuts? “What the hell are you doing? Get out of Gibbs’ chair.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s fine, Tony.”

No. No, it wasn’t.

“Um…you know how much I hate to agree with Tony, Y/N, but I really wouldn’t sit there if I were you,” McGee added.

“They speak the truth. Gibbs is very protective of his chair. And his desk,” Ziva whispered from beside you. “It would perhaps be in your best interest to return to your desk with the papers you need.”

“Noted.” Your voice was little more than a mumble as you yanked a stack of papers out of the middle of the pile and scanned through them before grabbing the sheets you’d carried over with you. It appeared you were comparing the two documents. And you’d found something if the expression on your face was any indication. Tony winced as Gibbs stepped into the bullpen. Your grin wasn’t going to last long.

“Hey, boss. We tried to tell her, but she’s new, you know? Take it easy on her would you?” Tony stammered out.

“It’s fine, DiNozzo,” Gibbs answered and you glanced up.

Tony’s gaze narrowed as Gibbs handed you a cup of coffee before grabbing you chair and wheeling it over to sit beside you. “What’ve you got?”

You slid the papers toward him. “His financials. Two accounts. Business and Personal.”

“We already went over his financials. It was a dead end,” Tim argued. “It only backed up his story.”

You shrugged. “You didn’t look back far enough.”

“Lay it out for me, Y/N. What am I looking at here?” Gibbs instructed.

“Two weeks before the murder both cards were used within an hour of each other. 300 miles apart. One at a gas station, one at a restaurant.”

“Lincoln said he was the only one with access to the accounts,” Tony added.

“Are you implying the suspect lied to us, Tony? I’m appalled.” You placed your hand to your chest in faux surprise.

He glared at you. This is what you did. You were always so damned quiet but when you talked, it always seemed to be a smart remark directed at him. “Ha, ha, Y/L/N. You’re a riot.”

“Y/L/N, McGee, go pick him up.”

You hopped to your feet and went over to grab your gear.

“Nice work, Y/L/N,” Gibbs said as he pushed your chair back to you.

You grinned as you snagged it and shoved it under your desk. “See you when we get back, boss.”

Tony waited until they were out of sight before looking at Gibbs. “Does this mean we can all sit in your chair now, boss?” The look the other man gave him had Tony wishing he could disappear. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“Get back to work, DiNozzo.”

***

You and McGee managed to bring the suspect Jonathan Morgan in with no hassle. He still seemed to think he could talk his way out of trouble. The team stood in the observations room watching Gibbs getting nowhere with Morgan. Tony had seen Gibbs pull some incredible tricks in his interrogations, but he didn’t think any of them were going to work this time.

Tony noticed you pull out your phone and type quickly. Almost immediately Gibbs’ shoulders went tight in irritation as he glanced at his phone. Surely you weren’t that stupid, but he was at the wrong angle to see the screen of your phone.

“Did you just text Gibbs during an interrogation?” Ziva, who was in a much better position, asked looking between you and the boss.

“Yeah. What of it?” you shrugged and stepped out of the room.

Tony’s chest actually went tight at that. He wondered if there were any spare boxes in the copy room for you to pack your stuff in. There was no way Gibbs wasn’t firing you now. “Rule 22. Never bother Gibbs during an interrogation,” Tony said with a grimace.

Ziva frowned. “I thought that was seventeen.”

“No. That’s never interrupt Gibbs during an interrogation. Two different things. At least she didn’t break that one. Could you imagine?” Tim said with a laugh of disbelief.

Just the thought was enough to send a chill up Tony’s spine. Texting was one thing, but actually going in and interrupting his interrogation? You’d be fired on the spot even if Gibbs did recruit you himself.

Less than five minutes passed before the interrogation room door opened to reveal you with your hands full of food. Tony smacked McGee on the arm and pointed. Tim’s mouth dropped open in a mirror of his own.

You placed everything in your arms on the table.

“What do you want, Y/L/N?” Gibbs snapped.

You shrugged and chomped a piece a gum. “Boss says he’s got to eat. I’m here to feed him.”

Gibbs huffed in irritation. “Fine. I’m taking a break. Let me know when he’s done.” He stormed from the room, slamming the door behind him. Almost immediately he was in the observation room with the rest of them.

Tony’s eyes never left you. In the short time since you’d left his presence, you’d changed into heels, a skirt and a men’s button up shirt. You’d tied the shirt at your waist and left the top three buttons undone. The skirt was far shorter than what would be considered professional and he turned his head to get a better look.

A sharp slap to the back of his head had him jerking forward. He cringed and frowned at his boss.

“Quit looking at her legs, DiNozzo. And pay attention. You might learn something.”

***

Tony leaned back in his chair and played with a pen as his gaze ran between you and Gibbs. The two of you had to be dating. There was no other explanation as to why you weren’t only still employed but Gibbs was praising the information you’d gotten from Morgan. And not one comment had been made about you interrupting his own questioning.

Only good sex would make a man act like that Tony decided. He grimaced at the image that flashed through his head. Ugh. Yeah, he wasn’t going to think about that again. Tony watched as you signed off on some paperwork and reached for your coffee. You frowned when you found it empty and tossed the cup in the trash. Heading to Gibbs’s desk, you handed him the file before grabbing his coffee and taking a swallow.

Tony dropped forward, his eyes wide as he waited for the retaliation. You placed the cup back on his desk and grinned. Gibbs simply smiled back and gave a shake of his head. Tony was on his feet before he could think better of it. “Okay, what the hell is going on around here? This is chaos and I won’t stand for it.” Everyone turned to look at him with various levels of confusion. “I won’t,” he repeated pointing his pen in the air for emphasis.

Gibbs licked his lips as he stood as well. “DiNozzo, what the hell are you talking about?”

Tony stepped out from behind his desk to the middle of floor and counted offenses on his fingers as he named them off. “First, she sits in your chair. Then she texts you during an interrogation. Then she physically interrupts the interrogation, wearing clothes no one else would get away with, might I add. And now she took a drink of your coffee. All of these are killing offenses Gibbs and you just smiled at her. You smiled.”

As he took in the looks of those around him, it occurred to him that perhaps he’d been a bit more excitable than necessary. He cleared his throat and straightened his tie. Gibbs blinked several times before tilting his head in consideration. “You can wear the skirt if you want to, DiNozzo, but I don’t think you have the legs for it.”

Before Tony could voice the protest on the tip of his tongue another voice interrupted.

“Would you really kill someone for drinking your coffee? I feel like you might,” Tobias Fornell said as he stepped into the bullpen.

Gibbs simply frowned at the FBI agent but Y/N grinned at him. “I’m sure that was just a vicious rumor.”

“What are you doing here, Fornell? She works for me now, remember?” Gibbs grumbled.

Fornell lifted a brow. “I heard she finished her first case with NCIS. I thought I’d take her out to dinner to celebrate.”

“And convince her to come back to the FBI?” Gibbs crossed his arms and shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

Tim and Ziva came to stand beside Tony. “What is going on?” the female agent whispered.

“I have no idea,” Tony replied. And if he was honest, that terrified him.

“You can’t keep me from seeing her just because she works for you now, Gibbs.” The FBI agent stepped forward, his frown deepening.

Gibbs stepped forward as well bringing them within swinging distance of one another. Tony’s shoulders went tight as he watched this scene play out. A glance at you showed you to be extremely irritated but otherwise at ease. If Tony didn’t know any better, he’d say you’d seen this before and often. Were you dating both of them? Really? You?

“I can keep her from seeing you because I’m her father,” Gibbs snapped.

“Well, so am I,” Fornell snapped right back.

What just happened?

You sighed. “Are you two finished?”

The two older men turned to look at her and she shifted her attention to Fornell. “Pop, Dad and I were going to have steak and beer at his house. You’re welcome to join us.”

The men eyed one another before Fornell nodded. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

Gibbs nodded as well. “Okay, then.” And like that the tension dissolved.

Ziva stepped forward. “Excuse me, but what just happened? I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

Gibbs and Fornell both smiled slightly as you shook your head with a roll of your eyes. “Gibbs married my mom. After they got divorced, Tobias married her. I kept the step-fathers in the divorce. So, Dad and Pop.” She gestured to the respective men in turn.

“Wait, so Y/N’s available?” Tony knew the moment the words left his mouth they were a mistake. He grimaced as you and your fathers all yelled his name in unison. “Yeah, sorry.”

After the three of you gave him a glare for good measure you moved toward the elevator. The last thing Tony heard before the door slid shut was your voice. “If you two don’t knock it off I’m transferring to the CIA.”

#fornell x reader #gibbs x reader #dinozzo x reader #ncis imagine #I don't know #pure chaos #what is this #no really

2K notes · View notes

dis--parity · 4 years ago

Text

paperwork.

Summary: Alex gets around to something she’s put off for too long. Trigger warnings: None! Author notes: Happy mother’s day to all my UK moots!

“And this... is the main reason I didn’t get around to this for so long.” The girl’s prosthetic hand rests upon the wad of papers present in front of her - brass-tipped fingers placing her pen down to shift the forms aside, sheet by sheet.

“So.” Flip. “Much.” Flip. “Paperwork.”

The sigh that escapes her sounds dangerously close to completely demoralised defeat; the world of legal matters was not only completely and utterly boring to her, but the amount of small boxes, scattered text... it was far too difficult for her to focus on alone. Just looking at the form seemed to confuse the poor girl - if not because she understood how serious the change was, then simply because of how... uncomfortably uniform these documents were.

She never would have seen herself even making an attempt at it, if it were just her - if there wasn’t still one person in her life who knew her almost as well as she knew herself. Whose voice could still bring a little clarity and focus to her addled mind.

Whose hand would find its way to her shoulder, resting upon it as if it had always belonged there, brushing away those curly golden locks so alike her own. Her free hand, then, would gather up the papers again, already with a few pen marks on them - putting just one sheet in front of her, and tucking the rest away with a smile.

“It’s like eating an elephant, dear.”, hummed Janella. “I know you get too overwhelmed when you try to do everything in one go - let’s go through it bit by bit. Now, then... this first sheet is the most important part, dear.

Your new name. What do you want it to be?”

She hesitates to give a direct response to her mother; all her life, she’s known herself as the same person. Alexandra. And so would her prosthetic hand pick up the pen again and put down exactly that. The gesture warranted a furrow of the brow from her mother; but nothing more than that.

“The same name?”, she asked, a chuckle slipping past her lips. “I’m surprised, dear, you’ve put so much thought into the person you want to be…” “I know who I am, mom. I’m Alex. Well... Alexandra, not Aleksander, now. And-... well, I- I guess there’s a couple of other things, too.” “Such as?” “My middle name, for a start.”

The nod that Janella gives her in turn is slow, one of absolute understanding. “Eitan, or Ethan… the name your father wanted for you when you were born-” “I- I don’t need to be reminded-”, Alex snaps - sucking in a deep breath, eyes cringing shut as she pushes the anger back down again. Unfazed as Janella seemed to be, she loathed how easy it was for that name to fill her with such rage. “Sorry, mom, I- I- just... yeah. That’s-... why I wanna get rid of it.”

“Well. I can’t say I blame you, darling,”, she sighed. “Your father was an awful man, there’s no denying that. Even years later, I’m still ashamed to have called that apathetic, selfish shell of a man my husband.” “Wh- what about the dude you left him for, my stepdad?”, asked Alex, with a tilt of her head. “I mean… he- he never sounded like he was that much better, right?” “... well, yes, but at least he actually tried to care, dear.” Clearly, that alone was enough for her to stay married to him for 17 years of her life; enough for her to raise a kid with him, even! Alex simply pursed her lips, a small hum serving as a subtle ‘touché’ to her mother’s retort. “But, I’ve told you those stories, haven’t I? So… what were you thinking of instead? Or, you can always get rid of it entirely, I suppose.” “No, I-... I had an idea. It’s silly, but…” She breathes in again; she’s learned well enough not to be embarrassed around her mother. Besides her therapist, she’s probably the one woman she’s shared the most with.

“My first name… I- I kinda wanted to change it to Alyssa. But-... I feel like that’s better as my middle name, y’know? And-...”

She hesitates again, pen hovering after the name ‘Alyssa’, as if paralyzed by some unknown force. Her eyes close, rendering her unable to see her mother’s glance of curiosity, but only for the moment it takes to make up her mind. Her pen slides slowly, apologetically across the paper again, the ink curling and swerving into a new word.

Gale.

It’s not a name the two of them feel any need to share words over. Her mother was one of the first other people who Alex opened up to about the impact that girl had on her, after all - and the legacy of a lost love is not something she’s about to dispute. Though, she must miss her an awful lot for her to want so badly to do such a thing - then again, who was she to say anything about that?

“You know,” Janella hums. “I think you’re having the same thoughts I did when I decided to keep your stepfather’s name. That, deep down, perhaps… there was still a good person where he was. At the very least, there was a person we missed.” “Yeah… I do miss her. Every day, y- you know that. But… I- I guess I just wanna carry her with me a little more. Like I do with Nancy.” “Won’t argue with you there, darling. Whatever your heart desires. Speaking of which… will that be your last name?”

And, at last, they come to the final hurdle - yet, for as much as she anticipates that Janella would ask, and for as good of an answer as she has, she just… can’t seem to get the words out. She stalls - breath slowly and sharply seething in through her nostrils as she gathers the will to say those words she’s mentally rehearsed over and over again. While the papers were printing, while her mom’s car was pulling up to the parking lot, all the while the Earl Grey she was enjoying was steeping… and finally, she spoke, her quaking voice barely audible enough to register.

“I want… your name. Y- your… your last name, I mean.

I wanna be a Cloutier. No-... an Iskra Cloutier.”

Janella falls silent then, for a good moment - her teacup slowly finding its way back to the fine saucer it rested on. She seemed more confused than touched by the gesture, as it was - but, there was still a glint of understanding behind her eyes.

“I see… but, darling, you could choose anything you want. You don’t need to take on my name, I should hardly think I’m a huge part of your whole transformation.

Please, don’t think as if you need to limit yourself - you can call yourself whatever you want. You know far better than me, you can be whatever you want to be.”

“I know who I want to be,” Alex said, the conviction behind her words forcing her head up to meet the hazel eyes of her mother. “For so long, I-... I’ve had this path in my life, ever since you’ve come back into it. When I woke up, and- and saw you there, and- and heard your voice, and… and when I was able to just talk to you after everything with dad was said and done, I-... for the first time in my life, I felt like I knew what I was doing. What I wanted to do!

And… it’s taken me this long, but… now I can finally be the person I really want to be. Who I’ve wanted to be from the beginning.” Words hang in the air for a moment, a tear refracting the light peering into the flaming cognac of her eyes as she makes her declaration.

“Your daughter.”

And in that moment, it feels as though Janella’s very soul had a new light beaming through it. Motherly tears are a thing she knows only in grief; leaving behind a son she loved, two children of her own, even, to circumstances she couldn’t do anything to control. Yet, as she pauses to let the words of the girl next to her repeat themselves in her mind, she can’t help a tear falling from her eye. With those two words, this had become just as significant for Janella as it ever could be for Alex.

To be a family. A family of two - but one more closely knit than any other she could have made.

And her smile lights the world up again. And her embrace reminds the girl of how precious she always will be. And the way she speaks so softly through her tears, squealing as she whispers to her, “My darling girl…” ... completes her.

She lets go after a time - though the warmth from the way they held each other fails to leave either of them. The lingering hesitation that Alex feels as the pen hovers above the paper is alleviated with a permitting nod from Janella. And so, triumphantly, her pen lowers to paper again - and then, to the surface of the desk, at least for the moment - and her new name is in full view of the two of them, in the best print she could manage.

Alexandra Alyssa Gale Iskra Cloutier.

“Well,” Alex hums, dry voice creaking just a little. “That’s one page out of the way already.”

“Ah, it was the hardest one, really.”, Janella is quick to reassure. “The rest is all declarations, me being a witness, things like that. We can do that, though, can’t we? Together.”

Together. She can’t see herself being happier than she already is - though, in the minutes that pass as they chat away through the paperwork that once was so daunting breezed past them like nothing, she felt more elated than she could imagine.

She knew only that she had a path to go down since her awakening by her mother’s side, and finally, finally she felt like they were walking that path, hand-in-hand.

She had always been free to do what she wanted - and all she wanted in the moment of triumph as they slipped the papers into an envelope to be sent off was to fling her arms around her mother. To hold her as close as the day they reunited - for now they were properly family.

“I bet you’re proud of yourself for getting through this, surely?” “Mm-hmm…”, is all the response Alex could muster - until the few seconds where time stood still around them, the warmth of her motherly embrace enveloped her and quelled the excitement that still rocked through her, when she finally looks up, speaks properly; says that one thing she knew she says too much, yet not enough - yet this time, with heart.

“... I love you, Mom.”

#[ᴘʀᴏɢʀᴀᴍᴍᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ғᴇᴇʟ] IC #drabbles;;#Character development;;#Guest Muse;; Janella #{ AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA HERE IT IS }#{ DROPPIN A MAJOR DEVELOPMENT ON MOTHERS DAY }#{ this will be canon iiiiin whenever I feel like it today }#{ I know the actual process takes WAY longer }#{ but in the interest of time I'm making it effective immediately }

16 notes · View notes

something-tofightfor · 5 years ago

Text

He’s Not Here - Part 24

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Word Count: 8034

Rating: M (language and violence)

Parts 1-23 + the interludes and NSFW alphabet can be found on my Masterlist (link in bio)

Summary: What’s in the box that Billy left for you? Why was it so important that you have it? Does it even matter?

Author’s Note: I’m about to ruin your Saturday.

(Banner made by @the-blind-assassin-12)

It had taken you three days to go through all of the files on Billy’s laptop, starting with the videos in the folder he’d labeled with your name. There were plenty of them, and each one was like a punch in the gut, simply because with every word he said, you heard him in it, the way he’d been when he was with you, even though you weren’t together at the time. They followed a linear timeline - some of them were simply Billy talking to you through his webcam, staring at the laptop with wide brown eyes, features contorted in sadness as he reminded himself - and by extension, you - of what he was doing and why. You couldn’t watch them all that first night; you were crying too hard, and after calling your boss and letting her know that you needed a few days off, you pulled one of Billy’s t shirts on and crawled into bed, bringing his iPod with you and holding it with one hand until you fell asleep, the songs that had comforted him in the desert filling your ears.

You’d cried yourself to sleep, but had woken up early the next morning, determined to make more progress with the videos and the files. You made notes as you went through them, lists of what was in each file, and as you did so, the story unfolded, little by little. Billy had been involved with heroin smuggling, starting with the contact that he’d had with Schoonover when he’d been shot. The man had offered him an opportunity to work directly for him as soon as he’d gotten back overseas, and though Billy had been hesitant because he knew what hard drugs could do to people, he’d agreed. “I didn’t want to do it, you know? But it was good money, and if I hadn’t agreed, he woulda gone to someone else, and who knows what he woulda done to me for sayin’ no. I wanted Anvil, wanted to… just wanted to get started, and figured that once I was back here and could find a new way to… he’d go somewhere else after I’d done my part. He’d find someone else, and I could just…” Billy’s hand had been working the back of his neck as he spoke, still not looking at the camera. “I was wrong. I was so wrong, but by the time I realized it, we were already… it was about more than the drugs, it was … we were - me an’ Frankie were…”

Agreeing to help with the drug smuggling had been just the beginning, and while Billy had assumed that he’d be on the hook for that when he came home - using Anvil as a front until Schoonover could find another avenue for importing and distributing the heroin - things had quickly changed when he and Frank had been tasked with leading two squds of men in Afghanistan, turning from dedicated Marines into something more deadly, more focused - more wrong. “Cerberus, at first was just them tellin’ us to go in and do what was necessary. We’d all been asked to do a buncha shit before, shit that we didn’t agree with but didn’t question, and so it wasn’t anything different. It got bad, Orange… Rawlins had his own agenda, and we just did what we were told, and… and it got out of control. It wasn’t just Schoonover keepin’ an eye on me anymore, it was both of ‘em, and I couldn’t...”

The folders contained information about each of the men - dates and amounts, contacts, phone call logs, requests, meeting notes. “I couldn’t keep track of shit over there, but once I got here? I knew… I knew there was a chance they were gonna get caught, and I’d go down with ‘em, but I wanted to… I know I can only count on myself, yeah? But after Schoonover died … after Frankie killed ‘im, things got… things changed. Rawlins is so paranoid now, but he thinks that… it’s never gonna be on him, never gonna… but he… if he knew I was keepin’ track of things, makin’ these videos? It’s gonna cover my ass, but he’d kill me for it right after he made me watch him kill you.”

Billy outlined everything for you - the way that the operation had changed after Schoonover died and the heroin stopped coming in in the same way, the way that Rawlins stayed as far out of the spotlight as possible and still tried to control the narrative, sending Billy and his men out on missions that needed to be handled quickly and quietly. “An’ I know you won’t want it, but I can only use so much of this money, and if I’m… I’m doin’ all of this shit? I want it to mean somethin’.” There were things that Billy did that were legitimate - he talked about situations where the men and women of Anvil were doing real jobs, where the company was exactly what Billy had dreamed, getting recognition in the papers and in military and political circles. “It’s only been a year, only been… and we’re doin’ it. I’m doin’ it, and I want… I wish I could tell you about it, because I think you’d be proud of me, at least for some of this shit.”

The money that he’d been putting into your account - that he’d opened by using the signature on the contract that you’d both signed for the Anvil party - was, according to him, from Billy’s portion of the legitimate deals he’d been doing, the training and the protection, the missions. “I’m usin’ the blood money, and that’s more than enough. Everything that goes to you? That’s… that’s what I woulda been doin’ for you if we were still together.” But there’s no way to verify that, I don’t… all I have are these records, but… But you realized that there’d be no reason for anyone to look into the account; it had been opened in your name, and the signature was as close to your own as you’d ever seen. You went back and forth about how you felt, knowing that the money you had access to could have come from illegal activity, but at the end of the day, you decided it didn’t matter.

I can… I can use this to help him, I can get him a lawyer, I… You’d actually laughed when he explained what was going on with your rent amount being deposited into the account in one of the earliest videos. “I told you we’d be livin’ together as soon as I came back, that I wanted to… well, since I’m savin’ money by living in the apartment next to my office, instead of paying my rent, I’m paying yours… kind of, even though you don’t know it yet.”

Billy had moved out of his apartment and into the building that he was leasing only a few months after Anvil opened. You weren’t surprised by it - that meant he could be close to his recruits, close to the company, always available, and even though you knew that him doing that would have consumed him, you also knew that it was what would have kept him sane - and too busy to really sit back and think about how far his life had spiraled.

The videos continued, Billy talking about the things that Rawlins and Wolf had him do, the meetings he had with Bennett and the other men, the promises they made him. “I know I can’t trust ‘em, and at this point, it’s more about me bein’ able to somehow cover my own ass when this all goes bad. Not if. I’m guilty, I’ve done a lot of bad shit and I know that, but it didn’t start out that way, and now… now they’ve got me in so deep that… I don’t know what else to do, except make these videos and talk to you like you’re really here because it might matter someday, even if it’s only to you.”

You’d seen the progression in Billy as the time passed. His first video to you, he’d been distraught and angry, trying to explain everything to you in a way that made sense while coming to terms with the fact that his life was exploding. The video after the Castles had been killed had been difficult to listen to, to say the least, but he’d been a combination of heartbroken and pissed, and you’d seen the fire in his eyes, heard the edge to his voice. The one from after Anvil’s opening had been short, but Billy was simply resigned in that one - he’d talked about your kiss, talked about saying goodbye. “I shoulda done it like that in March. I shoulda just been more honest, been more… but if you’ve made it this far, you know why I couldn’t, you know the risk. You know how dangero… You’re right. I have to let you go, I can’t keep pullin’ you back in. I already did, and it’s too dangerous, even though I tried not to, I … The next few, he’d been more calm, matter of fact - you could hear in his voice that he’d accepted his new reality - a life without you, without the Castles and without anything meaningful in it, aside from Anvil - something that had been his dream but that he’d allowed to be corrupted.

Billy had laid out everything for you - the reasoning behind your breakup, the reasons that he’d acted the way he had, the motivations for how hard he was working with the company, the need for him to try and help Frank in any way that he could… and even the ways that he was trying to make it seem as if everything was normal in his personal life. You’d assumed that Billy hadn’t been celibate after ending things with you, but hearing him talk about it? Seeing him looking at the camera and then away from it while he talked about the fact that he had to keep up appearances by being seen with other women, that he’d had to sell it by drawing them in and then cutting them lose? It hurt, and no number of apologies would ever make the feeling that you’d had in the pit of your stomach while you heard him apologize for sleeping with other women - and then remind you that he was doing it because he loved you disappear. He’s not wrong, though, it makes sense, it just…

You believed him, believed every word of what he said, because the things he said in the videos lined up with the other files on the computer - the pictures, the spreadsheets, the documents. They even lined up with the phone calls and the text messages, and you knew without a doubt that they’d line up with Anvil’s records, too. Billy had had to do a lot off the books, but it seemed like before he’d turned over the invoices to whoever it was that had paid him for the ‘special’ missions, he’d made copies of documents, made notes of the transactions. Though Anvil’s headquarters was nothing but a smoking pile of ash, there was a separate portion of the hard drive dedicated to it - and to the records. I have everything. Everything he worked for. Everything he was. “I know that my discharge papers say somethin’ different on record, but I have the real ones, I asked for ‘em when I came home. It was before Rawlins got to… he’s gonna use the ones he did, the ones… but I know. These are real, and you’ll have em, they’ll… they’ve gotta be good for something, right?”

As time passed, you could see that for Billy, things were falling apart and he didn’t know how to deal with it. Frank’s supposed reappearance - and the fact that Madani was also looking for the man weighed heavily on him - you watched the look on his face change, the fear in his eyes grow. “If Frankie’s really back, he’s gonna know, he’s… I’m not gonna be able to explain, because how do you… how do I explain that? How do I get him to listen for long enough to...” Billy had wanted to see Frank again, had been both relieved and afraid to learn that the man was still alive, but it presented him with a lot of problems, too. “I didn’t want to turn him over to Rawlins, but I couldn’t… I couldn’t tell him no, because I’m in too deep now, he still has leverage on me, and I can’t… I won’t risk it.” Billy had been relieved that Frank hadn’t shown up at the docks, and then the bombings and hotel attack had happened, exposing him to both Madani and Frank at the same time. “That’s not how I wanted him to find out, not how I wanted her to find out, either. I don’t… she was a means to an end, but I didn’t… it was never supposed to happen like this, I shoulda known that Frankie wouldn’t let it… fuck.”

There was no doubt that in the few days leading up to Billy showing up on your doorstep, he’d been trying to make sure that you had everything you could ever need on the laptop - and on the phone, which is where the call logs and text messages still were stored, along with audio recordings of meetings that he’d had with Rawlins and other men that you didn’t recognize - because while most of the information was organized, there were also things that were messily added, not labeled thoroughly, just put on the computer so that it would be there after he wasn’t.

But it was the last video - the one that you watched, curled up in bed, wearing his sweats and clutching the dog tag in one hand - that forced you into action, caused you to start thinking about what you could do with the information you had. In it, Billy was in a dark room, and he was wearing the outfit you’d last seen him in, hair hanging over his eyes and his skin pale, but his voice was sure, and he’d done something that he hadn’t in any of the previous videos: he stared directly into the camera for the whole thing.

“So this is it. I’m meetin’ Frankie tonight, and it’s… it’s gonna be one of us or neither of us. I gotta fight, I’ve always fought, and even though after what I did, just lettin’ him have me is what I deserve, it won’t… he won’t… I can’t just lay down and die.” He’d run his fingers through his hair, taking a deep breath. “I gotta say this now, because it could be my only chance, and if I say it to you when I come there in a few hours, you won’t let me leave.” Your heart was pounding as Billy leaned in, staring at you through the screen. “He thinks I’m somethin’ that I’m not, at least not completely. I did a lot of bad shit, a lot that I wish I wouldn’t have done, but it’s always been about survival. For me, for you, for him, for… fuck. You know how I get, so I can’t… I can’t promise you that I’m gonna make it through the night. Frankie and me, we always… we bring out the best in each other, but we also... “ Billy shook his head. “I told you I’d come back to you, no matter how long it took me, but I can’t… I don’t think I’m gonna be able to do that after tonight. I don’t think I deserve it, because this whole fucking thing is just… I just tried to… I’m tired. I’m tired of things bein’ like this, tired of… this isn’t me. It can’t be me anymore.”

He stood and walked away, coming back with the book you’d made him in his hands, holding it up for you to see that it was tattered, the pages bent and ripped at the edges. “I think you coulda forgiven me for the drugs, even though you would have been mad. And I know you woulda told me to … to warn ‘em, instead of… but I couldn’t. I tried to tell you without tellin’ you, but now I’m… You loved me, and I think you still might, but you need to know that it didn’t matter who I was with or what I was doin’, or what any of them say.” Billy tore the last page from the book and held it up, turning it so that you could see the words, even though they were backwards. “I just love you. I always have. And if you love me, you’ll use this - everything I gave you - not to clear my name, but at least to… explain why I did what I did. Maria’s parents, maybe? Frankie, if he makes it… if… fuck. Just promise me that you won’t blame yourself. I didn’t give you a choice - I made it for you.” He sighed, looking down, and you saw that the bloody fingerprint was on the card. “Make it worth it. Help him if you can.” Billy licked his lips, saying your name and holding his hand up to the screen - much like he’d done when he was overseas. “I love you, and I’m sorry.”

The video ended there, and you sat staring at the screen - his face frozen in a mask of sadness, his hand against the screen with his fingers splayed. He thought Frank would win. He didn’t think he would… Without thinking, you reached up to mirror the motion, tears streaming down your face. “Oh, Billy.” You took a deep breath, eyes finally moving away from the screen and down to where the rest of the items from the box were spread out on your bed, thinking. He told me to make it worth it, but the only thing… You shook your head. Frank was still alive, that much was for sure. He deserves to know, he needs to… this can clear his name, too, give him closure, it’ll… You took a deep breath, still thinking. But Billy’s still alive, too.

As much as you hated Frank for what he’d done to Billy, you understood it. From where Frank stood, Billy was solely responsible for the deaths of his family, and there’d been no reason for it aside from Billy’s own selfishness and his desire to become wealthy and respected. That has to change. He needs to… Your breath leaving you in a shudder, you closed your eyes. Billy was in the hospital, clinging to life, and when he woke, he’d have Homeland and the rest of the government pinning crimes on him that he hadn’t been responsible for while overlooking the part that their own men - and women - had played. You knew that they’d likely frozen Billy’s bank accounts; despite the fact that he’d included his own credit and debit cards in a separate envelope, as well as information for two offshore accounts, you were wary of counting on any of that money to be there when and if Billy needed it. But my account, he’s... I can use that, I can... You climbed out of the bed, crossing your arms over your chest as you paced your room, thinking.

Billy would have a public defender, a lawyer that was likely going to be able to be intimidated, one that wouldn’t work hard to save the life of his client - someone that he didn’t care at all about. And he’ll lose. And he’ll go to jail, or worse. He’d said it himself - he was guilty of a lot of things, but in all of the coverage you’d seen over the past week and a half, there had been no mention of anyone government or military being involved, aside from Billy and Lewis. He’s going to get blamed for everything, even the things he didn’t… Even Frank’s name had been scrubbed from the narrative; he’d saved the lives of two teenagers as well as Madani’s on the carousel, but after that, nothing. He can’t just… he’ll have to… “He said to help him.” You spoke out loud to your empty apartment, blinking away more tears. Billy had meant Frank, you knew that he had, but you didn’t know how to get in touch with him - and if you were being honest with yourself, didn’t know if you could face him, knowing what you did. I had no idea, I didn’t… You stopped in your doorway, looking back at the bed, and then looked down, realizing that you still had Billy’s dog tag in your hand, uncurling your fingers and finding that you’d been holding it so tightly that there were indentations left in the skin of your palm. I guess you had a preference, Billy. You just didn’t… you didn’t realize it until it was too late.

Taking a deep breath, you slipped the dog tag into your pocket, squaring your shoulders. Figure it out. He did. He … Your eyes landed on your phone, which was sitting on the nightstand, and you hurried back to it, picking it up. Who can I trust? You didn’t know where to begin; you’d never needed a lawyer, never been in trouble with the law, never had to think about what you’d do if you ever needed to defend yourself in public. There has to be someone, but… Leaving Billy’s laptop and everything else, you walked back into the living room, eyes moving over to the TV stand, where the pictue of you and Billy had been, though you’d moved it. That picture started it, it was… Shaking your head to clear it, you moved to the couch, perching on the arm and holding your phone. Focus. You didn’t even know what time of day it was; you’d been in a haze since you’d opened the box, but as your eyes wandered again to the TV stand, you pressed your lips together. It’s only noon, it’s the middle of the day, it’s what, a Friday? You unlocked your phone, opening the browser and took a deep breath before typing ‘criminal defense attorney New York City’ into the window and hitting search.

There were hundreds of results, and as you scrolled through them, you frowned. I can’t trust them, I don’t know if… they won’t take it seriously, they… You set the phone down, closing your eyes and rubbing your fingers over them. You were exhausted, and even though you’d been sleeping, your dreams were once again filled with Billy’s face, with his voice - and even though you had no clue what Frank had truly done to him, the dreams often featured Billy with injuries - scars and raised skin, bandages covering wide swaths of his face. You felt guilty - more guilty than you’d ever felt in your life, and you knew that you wouldn’t be over that feeling for a long time, especially not when you knew that Frank was still - “Frank.” You dropped your hands, picking your phone back up and typing again. This time, the search was more pointed - ‘Frank Castle defense attorney’ - and your eyes widened as you scrolled through those results. Matt Murdock and Foggy Nelson’s law office was known for taking on difficult clients, and the two men were also known for getting results. “Can they help me? Help...Billy?” You swallowed, eyes scanning the page and you gasped when you saw a name that jumped out at you - Karen.

Frank had mentioned someone named Karen when he was talking about Billy, and the fact that she was associated with the lawyers couldn’t have been coincidence. You remembered Curtis mentioning her, too, both men saying her name with reverance. She helped Frank, she… You closed your fingers around your phone, squeezing your eyes shut. If she helped Frank when he was accused of… she might… You knew it was a long shot - if she was invested in Frank’s wellbeing, she’d likely be hesitant to listen to Billy’s side of things without rushing to judgement. But she doesn’t know, none of them do. Your heart pounding, you backed out of the news article and typed the woman’s name into your browser. She’s a reporter. You took a deep breath, scrolling, and saw that along with her email address and the newspaper’s phone number, she had her extension specifically listed on her profile. That has to be… You swallowed, memorizing the four numbers and biting your lip. It’s a long shot. But it’s the only… it’s the only one I’ve got.

You started the call before you could question yourself again, taking a deep breath and repeating the extension number when a man answered. As you were transferred, you felt your heart in your throat, foot tapping against the floor rapidly. “Karen Page, New York Bulletin.” Freezing, you didn’t respond right away. “Hello?” You made a split second decision, closing your eyes briefly and then opening them, your eyes landing on the decorated tree in the corner. I have to do this. “Hello? Is there -”

“Miss Page?” Your voice shook, and you paused, swallowing before you introduced yourself. “I… I think you can help me.”

“You’re…” She paused. “I know your name, you’re Billy Russo’s…” She stopped herself and you heard yourself laughing quietly. “I’m sorry, that was… how can I help you?”

“Miss Page… Karen…” Your eyes went back to your hallway, the corner of the laptop just visible. “I didn’t know who else to…” You fought to keep your voice even, trying to figure out the best way to continue. Just say it. “Billy Russo isn’t the person that you think he is.” You heard her exhale, but continued before she could say anything. “I have… I have some things I need to show … someone, anyone that can help, I…”

“Why do you think I can help you?” Her voice was slightly colder than it had been previously, but you heard the interest in it too. “I don’t -”

“You believed in Frank Castle.” She sucked in a breath loudly. “You knew there was more to it than what they…” Now or never. “There’s more to this, too.” There was a long pause.

“I’m listening.” You let out your own breath, which was more like a sigh of relief before you closed your eyes, nodding. That’s all I needed.

---

The next day, there was a knock on your door, and when you opened it, you forced a smile at the blonde woman, inviting her in. You hadn’t slept well the previous night and were nervous - not because you feared what Karen would say in response to what you showed her, but because sharing what Billy had left you was opening up the remnants of your relationship - of his life - to someone on the outside, someone with an allegiance to Frank. But she’s … I have to. “Hello, Miss P-”

“Call me Karen, please.” She stepped into your apartment, shaking her had. “So many people out today, you’d think they would have gotten it all out of their….” She trailed off, noticing the confused expression on your face. “Yesterday… was Black Friday?” Karen cocked her head to the side, frowning slightly. “Day after Thanksgi…” You shook your head, brow furrowed. I didn’t even realize. I missed… You watched her as she watched you, her eyes raking over your body. You’d showered, changed into clean clothes and made an attempt to improve your appearance, but knew that you still looked rough. “You love him.” She swallowed. “Still, even after -”

“I do. And I owe him.” There was no shame in your voice, nothing but the truth in it. “And you’ll understand better once…” You gestured to your kitchen table, where the laptop was sitting, open and unlocked. “Before I show you what he left me, I need to tell you… do you want something to drink?”

Over the course of an hour, you filled Karen in on your history with Billy, starting with how you’d met and ending with the moment he’d left you for the last time the night of the fight with Frank. She’d listened, her eyes growing wide at certain parts of the story, but hadn’t interrupted, a pen held tightly between her fingers as she took notes. You were honest with her, telling her details that you wouldn’t have told anyone else, because you wanted her to know the Billy that you knew, the man that you’d fallen in love with. “And he left me a box, telling me it was the truth… but I didn’t open it, I couldn’t, because it felt like…”

“Like moving on. Like… ending that part of your life, the part that was with him.” She spoke quietly and you nodded, watching as she set the pad and pen down on the coffee table, next to her empty beer bottle. “You opened it, though.” You nodded, recounting Frank’s visit to you a few days after the fight, followed by your trip to the hospital and the encounter with Madani. “I’ve met her. She’s… she saved Frank’s life, her and Lieberman, after…” You watched her eyes flash. “After he killed Rawlins, and again after he fought with…” Karen bit her lip and used her fingers to wipe beneath her eyes. She loves him. You felt a chill run through your body at the realization, but you knew that you were too far in to stop things. “He’s gone, he’s not in the city anymore, you know that?” I didn’t. “He left Madani to look after Billy, told her to call him if anything changed, said he’d come back if he needed to, but even… even after what Billy did to Frank, to his family, he didn’t… he couldn’t kill him.” Karen shook her head. “I don’t know how he… Frank’s a good person, but, Billy, he took -”

“He didn’t do it because he wanted to.” You spoke quietly. “He never wanted to hurt them, never would have…” You met her eyes, feeling yours flooding with tears that you didn’t even try to hold back. “Rawlins gave Billy a choice, Karen. And I didn’t know it until I watched…” You gestured to the laptop, shaking your head back and forth. “Rawlins wanted Frank dead, not Maria and the kids. Billy thought…” You looked down and then back up at Karen, who was watching you silently, hands clasped together on her lap. “Rawlins told Billy that if he warned Frank, if he tipped him off in any way, that he’d…” Your jaw worked silently, but you only paused for a moment before continuing, saying the words out loud for the first time. “He said he’d kill me.”

---

Karen had been on the phone moments after watching the first video that Billy had recorded for you, the woman pacing back and forth in your living room as she talked with somone on the other end of the line. “I need you to pack up everything - not the clothes, but the laptop, the other stuff, the papers… and you need to come with me.” Shocked, you’d nodded, slipping Billy’s laptop and phone into your own bag, adding in the paperwork and few envelopes along with it. By the time you’d finished, Karen was sitting on your couch again, head in her hands and her long hair hanging through her fingers. “We’ll figure this out.” She looked up at you, and you saw that her eyes were shining. “I trust Frank. He’d never… he’s never…” She shook her head. “But that didn’t seem like…” No, it didn’t. She stood, pressing her lips together and then she crossed the room to you, putting her arms around your shoulders and pulling you close. Though you were surprised, you hugged her back, feeling a sense of comfort for the first time since Billy had walked out the previous week. “Matt and Foggy will know what to do, they’ll… Matt will be able to…”

So the two of you had taken a cab to Hell’s Kitchen, entering a large and open apartment. You recognized the man that opened the door as Matt Murdock, and though blind, he’d reached out for your hand before you could say a word, introducing himself. “Karen tells me you have a case...or what you think is a case?” He smiled at you, and out of habit you nodded, opening your mouth to speak.

“I do, Mr. Murdock, I -”

“Matt. Call me Matt. If we’re going to be working on this, you should…” He led you deeper into the apartment, asking you to set up the laptop and play the video you’d played for Karen. You watched him with interest as he listened to Billy’s words, his face giving nothing away. It was one of the longer videos, but as Karen pressed the pause button at the end of it, you felt like it wasn’t long enough. “And he recorded that when, Karen?”

“The date of the file is from about a week before the Castles were killed, Matt.” She sighed. “I mean, we’d need to check it out, and make sure, but… the other videos, they all have dates that line up with things Frank told me, things that we looked into for his case and with The Blacksmith. I mean, it… there seems like there could be a lot of truth to it, and if…” She trailed off. “If there is, then this could get interesting, Matt.” She believes.

“Russo’s voice… he believed what he was saying.” Matt frowned, shaking his head. “He was genuinely upset.” You leaned in, reaching past Matt to open up the file from the day that the Castles had been killed, pressing play. Just keep going, that’s all you can do now. When that video ended, you glanced over at Karen, whose eyes were read, tears streaking down her cheeks. You were crying too, but you were spent, your body almost too tired to produce any real tears. “He really didn’t know.” Matt’s voice was filled with surprise. “That changes things. If there was proof that -”

“There is. It’s short, but there’s a recording on Billy’s phone, I don’t know how he got it, but it’s…” You swallowed. “It’s Rawlins and Billy the day of the…” You pulled the phone out, going through it. “Rawlins tells Billy that there are men outside of where I work, and if anything goes wrong, if Frank isn’t there, or if he seems like he was tipped off, they’ll grab me when I go to lunch.” You pressed play, letting Matt and Karen listen. Some of the audio was garbled, since you assumed that Billy had had the phone in his pocket, but most of the words were clear.

“Does R… Billy have a lawyer?” You told him you didn’t know, and Matt nodded. “We’ll look into it. They can’t try him, or even charge him with anything formally until he wakes up and they assess… his brain function.” You gasped and Matt continued. “It’s been all over the news, I’ve… kept up with it.” Of course you have. “We have time, but we can’t… we can’t let anyone know that this information exists, not until we go through it, and…” Matt sighed. “Karen, can I talk to you for a minute?” The blonde nodded, and Matt pointed at the refrigerator. “Help yourself, we’ll be right back.” They walked slowly away and down the hall, and you turned the laptop to face you, staring again at Billy’s face, paused on the screen. I’m going to help you, Russo. Even if they won’t, I … A few minutes passed and then you heard your name, Matt stepping back down the hallway in front of Karen, who looked determined. “We’ll need to keep the laptop and the phone, it’s evidence. Once we can verify that things were created on the days that … that he says they were, we can move forward.” You agreed and Matt took a deep breath. “I still have to talk to Foggy, but… I think that we can help Billy, and maybe Frank, too.”

You felt yourself deflate, your knees growing weak. “You...you believe him?” That time, your voice shook, and as you gripped the edge of the counter, you felt Karen’s hand on your back, heard her murmur your name. “I know you guys believe Frank, and you trust him, and…”

“Frank’s entire… everything he ever did was to… was for the people he loved.” Karen shook her head, and for the first time, you noticed the faint scabbing on her face, the scar next to her lip. “If Billy really did that for you - and there’s proof? Proof that he…” She shook her head. “They’re going to try to bury him, and no one will ever know the truth if they have it their way. Sweeping what Rawlins and Bennett and Schoonover and Madani …what all of them did under the rug to save face?” Karen shook her head. “That’s not right, that’s not what .... Not what people like Frank and Billy fought for.” Karen nodded, her eyes clear. “I believe Frank. I believe that Frank did what he thought was right because of what they did to his family, but … but that doesn’t mean that I don’t believe Billy, too.”

“There’s a lot of work to do.” Matt spoke again, drawing your attention. “If Billy wakes up, we’ll need to be there almost as soon as Madani’s guy is, so we need to get to work on this.” You nodded, forgetting again that Matt couldn’t see it, but he grinned, continuing. “We need to go through all of these files, and start working on a strategy, figure out what we can…”

“Matt?” You swallowed, eyes moving back to the laptop. “If… if he doesn’t wake up, that laptop… the phone… it’s all… it’s all I have left of him, and it’s the only proof that he…”

“We can make you copies of the videos.” Karen’s hand rubbed against your back, her voice quiet. “I’ll do that right away and get them back to you, just in case.”

“Yeah.” Matt cleared his throat, nodding his head. “It’s probably good to have backups anyway.”

---

Things moved quickly, and over the course of the next few weeks, Matt, Karen and Foggy worked tirelessly on the case, categorizing all of the information and printing things out, connecting dots. Karen’s position on the paper allowed her to dig into files and reports, getting them more information on the men that Frank - and Billy - had killed. It had only taken a few days for them to come to the conclusion that nothing on the phone or laptop had been fabricated, meaning that while the truth behind Billy’s words couldn’t be validated unless he woke up and remembered, he’d recorded and saved things as he went - not all at once, and not after the fact. It made you appreciate what he’d done for you even more, and it made you hate Madani and the government more, too.

Though you weren’t allowed in the room with Billy again, you visited him multiple times a week, sitting quietly in the hallway in a chair that faced his room, waiting for any sign of change.

Nothing happened - aside from the bandages on his face getting thinner, the bulk disappearing as the wounds beneath them healed. Madani was in the room with him most of the times that you were there, and while you couldn’t hear what she was saying, you watched as she spoke to him, the anger on her face and in her posture palpable. She’s going to try everything to … to ruin him. You kept it together, taking everything in, and reported back to Matt and Karen, letting them know if you overheard anything from Madani or the doctors, but it wasn’t until the beginning of the third week of December that they had to take action.

Billy’s court appointed lawyer had visited with Madani, and though you didn’t catch all of their conversation, you watched the man shake hands with her and heard him say that when Billy woke up, things wouldn’t take long to wrap up. I knew it. You texted Karen as soon as you left the hospital, and not less than 24 hours later, you received a message from Foggy, telling you that he and Matt had officially taken on Billy as a client, letting Madani’s team know that the court appointed lawyer would be replaced, pending Billy’s return to consciousness. You felt relief, but it was short lived, as the next time you showed up at the hospital Madani refused to speak to you, instead glaring at you as she walked by, going back into Billy’s room and blocking your view of the man by closing the blinds.

You weren’t allowed into the room - aside from a short visit on New Year’s Eve, something Karen had advocated for once she’d found out it was Billy’s birthday, but nothing changed with him. He was still out, still unresponsive, and even though you could see that he was healing - bruises and cuts fading from his arms, the doctors (and his own heightened senses) telling Matt that the other injuries on his body were getting better, too, you were beginning to worry that Billy wouldn’t ever wake up.

Even after the bandages came off, exposing the thick and jagged scarring on Billy’s face to the open air, he didn’t stir. You watched his chest rise and fall through the window, watched the monitors, eyes on the numbers, listened as much as you could to the doctors and nurses … and hoped. By the end of January, even Matt had said that things were changing, and he could almost hear Billy’s body as it healed, but he still didn’t respond - not to Madani, not to Detective Mahoney, not even to the medical staff, when they poked and prodded at him, examining him or manipulating his body so that he didn’t remain in one position. His arms and legs were thinner than you ever imagined that they could be, but they were nowhere near as thin as his face; Billy’s eyes sunken in, the raised and angry pink skin stretched tight over his skull. He looked nothing like the man that you knew, but that didn’t change the way you felt. This is because of me. Frank fighting him is because of me.

While at work on a Tuesday in February, your phone rang, showing Karen’s number on the screen. You answered, unsure of why she was calling - but you didn’t have to wait long for the answer. Karen said your name, and at the sound, your grip on your phone tightened, chest growing tight. “He’s awake.”

You made it to the hospital in record time, and even though Karen met you at the front doors, you barely stopped until you were in the elevator, foot tapping on the floor. “Is he -”

“I called you as soon as they called Matt.” She swallowed. “Madani’s been trying to get in there, I guess, but the doctors won’t let her, since Matt and Foggy are his legal council, and she’s not even technically supposed to be in the room.” I didn’t know that. “The cops will usually let her in, but if Mahoney’s here, she stays away, and now that he’s awake…” Karen shook her head. “You can’t go in, not yet, but maybe if he… if he sees you? Sees someone familiar that isn’t… her?” You nodded, nearly sprinting out of the elevator when the doors opened, but stopped in your tracks when you saw that Billy’s blinds were closed. That’s new. Madani was pacing in the hallway, her arms crossed and she swore when she saw you, rolling her eyes. “Agent Madani.”

Karen’s voice was frosty, and you and the blonde woman stopped in front of Billy’s door, waiting. “The lawyers are in there now, along with one of the -” Madani rolled her eyes. “You’re not going in there.”

“I know.” You eyed her, not saying anything else. It didn’t feel any different in the hallway, even though you knew that Billy was awake, but you could feel the anger rolling off of her, saw the way she was looking at you and Karen. “I -” Billy’s door opened and the officer stepped out, talking to Madani.

“He’s lawyered up. We can’t speak to him again unless they’re present, but the doctors also said that he needs some time to recover. He can’t -”

“I don’t care. I want to see him now.” Madani pointed at the door, whch was still open a few inches. “I want to go in -”

“No. Agent Madani, we’ve allowed you to go in up until now, but there’s nothing we can do, both doctors as well as I heard him agree to let Murdock and Nelson -”

“And Page.” Karen spoke up from next to you. “I’m a junior partner, we’re just waiting for my cards to come in.” She shrugged. “I’m on the team too, so I’ll have access to Mr. Russo.” Madani’s face turned thunderous, but the officer nodded.

“Murdock and Nelson and Page represent him, so unless one of them is present, you won’t be able to be in the room with him, and neither will we, except to guard the medical staff.” Swearing under her breath, Madani spun on her heel and stormed off, leaving the three of you - and the single guard outside the door - standing in the hallway. “Ms. Page, if you’d like you can join them in the room.” Karen nodded and squeezed your arm before she stepped away, slipping into the room and closing the door behind her. I just want to see him, I want to see him awake, I… “Take a seat, it might be a while.” The officer - one of the guards that you’d become familiar with sighed as you shook your head. “Suit yourself.” Minutes passed and then the door opened again, a doctor and a nurse leaving and shutting it behind them, walking down the hallway and talking quietly between themselves. What is happening? What… You stared at the window, eyes unfocused, and then, after what felt like a long time had passed, you watched as the blinds rose, Karen’s worried face inches away from yours. She was blocking your view of Billy, and waited until you’d met her anxious eyes and nodded once to step to the right, letting you see him.

His head was turned to the side, looking away from you as he talked to Matt and Foggy, but after a few seconds, Billy’s head moved, even though it didn’t lift from the pillow. Oh, God. Things seemed to be happening in slow motion, your heart thudding behind your ribs as you watched him move for the first time in months. Billy’s head stopped, his cheek resting on the pillow, and you stepped closer to the window, staring at him, even though his eyes were closed. He finally opened them and you felt your eyes widen as you saw them through the glass - the same brown eyes that you’d gotten so used to staring into looking at you as if they didn’t see you at first. Billy it’s me. It… You watched as his eyes widened, eyebrows rising, and for the briefest moment, a flash of recognition went through them, his jaw twitching. Hi. But then it was gone, Billy’s brow furrowing as he kept staring at you. No… what… he doesn’t… Unwilling to give up, you raised your hand to the glass, pressing your palm against it and tilting your head to the side. Come on, Billy. It’s me.

For the span of a few seconds, you thought he was going to respond, but then Billy closed his eyes again, turning his head back toward Matt and Foggy. Feeling crushed but trying not to show it, you stepped away from the glass, dropping into the chair you typically sat in and putting your face into your hands. It doesn’t matter. He’s awake. He’s alive. Nothing else matters.

---

Tag List:

If you want to be added or removed, reach out and let me know!

General:

@the-blind-assassin-12 @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @obscurilicious @sweetybuzz25 @suchatinyinfinity @lexxierave @gollyderek @poindexted @ificouldhelpyouforget @elanor-of-imladris @thesandbeneathmytoes @luminex3 @geeksareunique @weallhaveadestiny @mfackenthal @thesumofmychoices @yannii04 @beautiful-thinking @drinix @agentlingerie @blah-blah-fuckit-shit @dreams-with-thoughts @wangmangagavroche @traeumerinwitzhelden @jigsawlover10 @malionnes @addictedtofictionalcharacters

Billy Russo:

@nananananananananananabatman @damalseer @benbarnestongue @chibiyanai @life-is-a-melody @songtoyou @thisisparadisemylove @littlemermaidprobz @weirdowithnobeardo

He’s Not Here ONLY:

@breanime

Uncategorized:

@banditthewriter @padfootagain @madamrogers @ethereal-heavcns @editboutique @marauderskeeper @ilkaeliseb @delicatelilyflower @king4thesirens @ymariejp @mr-robot-x @rageshots @introvertedlibrary @writing-for-a-chance @yesixoxo @ilikebeachessushiandsmallanimals @likeorions @swiftyhowlz @dylanobrusso @malik-payne @lynne1993 @ladyblablabla @dreamwritesimagines @audreychaz @tc-elliot @kind-wolf @honeyydippaa @binbonsadoration @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @ms-delos @jeanettexkillian @avengerswhore @elioelioeli0 @projectcampbell @giggleberts

141 notes · View notes

killjoy-loveit · 5 years ago

Text

Something You’re Not

A/N: Welcome to Spring Season Stories! This is the 18th of the daily stories in April, so be on the lookout for more! If you’re wondering what the posting schedule is, then search ‘Spring season Stories’ on my blog and the calendar should pop up. I would like to clarify that everything written in this story is complete fiction and isn’t to be taken as a true portrayal of reality. As always, the links for my masterlists will be in the notes, though I have come to find (after months of doing this lmao) that on mobile you have to click my reblog of the post to actually get the links- same applies to desktop. I am just going to add that I am planning on a part 2 of this, just so y’all don’t think I’m 110% out to crush your hearts.

Summary: Not everything is what it seems.

Word Count: 2,832

Genre: Spy AU, Angst, a bit of fluff in the middle

Light spilled in from the window behind you, easily illuminating the papers sitting out on your desk. Despite being easy to read, you wanted to slam your head against the desk in frustration. How is it okay to send so much paperwork, to analyze and go over, a mere hour from the meeting? Your boss must be out of his mind to think you’d be able to fully comprehend over a hundred pages filled with legal jargon in that short of a time frame. A scream of annoyance built up in your throat as thoughts plagued you to just toss the documents and finally quit. It sucked to be taken advantage of like this, over and over again.

All because your boss, Mr. Dunne, the eccentric government official he was, knew that you weren’t very good at saying no to more work. This was because you were desperate to prove your value as an employee for your government so that you might be promoted. There was no way in hell you were going to let your political science degree, acquired from one of the most prestigious universities in the nation, go to waste. Putting up with such harsh extremes was your duty as you, unluckily, were hired to assist him with his work, rather than his kinder associate Ms. York.

She was the one you were hoping to work for in all honesty. Ms. York was known for her high morals and consideration of the people, not to mention she was one of the youngest government officials in office and a woman at that. There were times you ran into her in the hallways and she always made sure to greet you politely, asking how you were doing, before moving on her way. Everyone spoke highly of her, even the terrible Mr. Dunne, whose approval was difficult to gain.

“Enough of dwelling on how Mr. Dunne sucks, these papers aren’t going to analyze themselves,” you muttered quietly.

Just like that, your mind focused on the task at hand, letting go of the heavy frustration and annoyance weighing on your mind. Words seemed to bleed together as your eyes flew over each page, taking brief seconds to highlight important parts. Little notes were written in the margins if a section didn’t quite make sense, while small stars indicated something that was written well. By the end of the hour, you had managed to go over approximately ninety percent of the papers placed on your desk. Which was an excellent job, if you must say so yourself.

At that moment a knock sounded on your office door before opening to reveal Mr. Dunne himself. He stepped in with an air of authority that would make anyone else afraid to question him. His demeanor was always something you had admired, despite his terrible personality, he always carried himself well and demanded respect wherever he went.

“Do you have the papers ready?”

A tight smile graced your lips. “I have almost finished all of them. If I could be admitted into the meeting later I can finish the rest and bring them to you then.”

“You couldn’t finish such a small task?” His tone dripped with disapproval.

“Sir, I sincerely apologize. I have only ten more pages left to go over. I can give you what I’ve finished and bring the rest into the meeting later if you allow me to.”

“Fine. Give me the ones that are finished.”

The smile you held firmly on your face was starting to feel painful. “Yes sir, of course. Here they are.” You stated politely, lifting the stack of papers and handing them to him.

Mr. Dunne let out an annoyed huff before turning and excusing himself from your office. Once you were sure he was gone, you dragged your hands down your face in frustration. Letting out a sigh you turned your attention to the remaining ten pages, refocusing in on the work.

Each place you went in the store was crowded with those who were doing their grocery shopping after getting off work. Normally you were aware of this rush and you tended to avoid it by shopping early on the weekends, but you hadn’t been able to make it this past weekend. Now you were stuck having to go during the store’s busiest hours, having to squeeze through the throngs of people just to get a few items. There were only a few things left for you to collect before being able to rush home: milk, bread, and cheese. Getting the last two items was no big deal, but as you made your way to the refrigerated section containing milk, it was clear that you might not leave the store with the half-gallon you’d wanted.

You were about to turn around, giving up on the milk entirely when you saw one left, sitting at the very back of the section. Quickly, you made your way to it, hand outstretched and ready to grasp the handle. But someone beat you to it. With a spin of your heels, you turned to face the person who had taken the half-gallon you were going for. The guy in question seemed to be oblivious that you had even been there, let alone reaching for the same thing as him. A small sound of frustration escaped you at the loss. It appeared you wouldn’t be having coffee this week, not unless you woke up earlier to stop by a cafe on your way to work.

“Are you okay?” A voice broke through your thoughts of having to endure Mr. Dunne without being properly caffeinated.

Your eyes locked onto the guy who had just barely managed to swipe the milk from you, all without realizing he’d done so. “Yeah… Yeah, it’s just that was the last of the milk and I need milk for my coffee. I’m now going to have to handle my boss without coffee. Let me just tell you, I have never known someone more frustrating than him!” You complain, hands waving in the air when talking about Mr. Dunne. A second later, after seeing the guy’s bewildered face, embarrassment crept up on you. “Sorry, you probably didn’t need all of that information. Umm, I’ll be on my way now.”

You had maybe made it a couple of feet before you felt something being placed into your basket. Tilting your head, you spotted the same guy you’d just been conversing with. The milk settled in your basket.

He gave you a small smile. “I figure you need this more than me, I don’t need it to put up with my boss.”

“I-Uh… Thank you. No, really, thank you so much!”

His eyes shone with a gentleness, this paired with the way he nodded at you before turning around had you calling out for him to wait.

“Yes?”

“Umm, well… Could I maybe treat you to coffee sometime to thank you?” You asked softly.

“I’d like that.”

It wasn’t until a week later that you were both able to meet up for coffee. Chan, you’d learned his name when exchanging contact information, was kept almost as perpetually busy as you were. Everything had started smoothly, a light chatter being upheld as you ordered your drinks and paid. But that chatter has long since faded and you felt awkwardness creeping up on the two of you. You, for one, were staring down at the table, every so often your gaze flickered over to Chan sitting opposite you. Wracking your brain for anything to start up the conversation anew was slightly frustrating. Any way you typically knew how to create a conversation had fled your mind, leaving you alone with frantic thoughts along the lines of ‘how do you converse with someone?’.

Finally, the silence was broken by Chan himself. “So, what do you do for work? I remember you mentioning that your boss is pretty difficult.”

The tension in your body eased off as you were freed from thinking about how to start a conversation. “Yes! He really is hard to put up with. My job is kind of odd, I work for the government but not in one specific area. The man who works over me, my boss, has duties in multiple departments and since I’m his assistant, I also technically work in multiple areas as well.”

“I’ve never met anyone who works for the government before. What’s it like?” He asks, tilting his head.

“Well, it’s not easy, that’s for sure. Right now I don’t exactly have high clearance so I deal with all the paperwork and subsequent tasks for my boss. Basically I do the grunt work, make reports and file things to make his job easier.”

Over the next year, the two of you grow closer. Near constant texting turns into spending practically every spare moment together. You’ve come to find you simply enjoy Chan’s presence, the stress, and tension held in your shoulders because of work lessening when he’s around. It wasn’t uncommon to spy the two of you together at a cafe in the early morning hours, or grabbing takeout before heading to your apartment to watch movies. During this time you learned more about each other than you think you’ve ever learned of someone in only a year.

If someone asked, you could tell them his favorite elementary school teacher, the way he likes his coffee, his favorite water brand, that he’s a sensitive soul, when he lost his first baby tooth, or how he broke his arm in high school; Not to mention so much more. The same could be said for him, even some of the more embarrassing moments of your life that you had spilled while drunk. Granted you weren’t alone in your ability to embarrass yourself while drunk, you had more than enough ammunition to tease him on the regular. However, you found yourself wishing for more, just a little bit. Your heart swelled at the mere thought of him, and the way your other friends teased you about him always managed to make you blush furiously.

It was hard to tell if he felt the same way, even though the few times your other friends had spent with the two of you had convinced them he was most certainly interested in you as well. They managed to hype you up to this point: inviting him over for dinner and telling him how you felt. Just the thought of having to say those words ‘I don’t want to be just friends’, made your heart hammer in your chest. Speaking of, Chan’s due to arrive any time now, meaning it’s time to double-check everything. Chicken bolognese was doled out perfectly on two plates, finished just a few minutes ago, joined by a sweet wine settled in the decanter your sister gifted you over the holidays.

Digging your teeth into your lower lip, you wondered if this was too much, or too serious. After all, neither of you had ever had a dinner like this together before. Thankfully a knock at the door put an abrupt dent in your harried mind.

“Is this too serious?” You ask after showing him to the small dining area. “It is, how about we just go eat in the living room?”

Chan laughs quietly. “Whatever would put you at ease.”

“Living room it is then.”

Moving the food was no difficult task, and soon enough you were settled on the couch, feet tucked underneath you. With the television on in the background, conversation flowed as per usual. Quick rundowns of your days before moving on to different topics, most of which were based on different articles one of you had read. Just as you finished dinner and were preparing to tell him, you received a text from Mr. Dunne - who was no longer your boss, since you’d gotten promoted a few months prior, but you still worked with him on important proposals - informing you of an emergency related to the new draft you were working on. Apparently an official from the country you were trying to work out an agreement with had sent in new demands.

After apologizing profusely and being waved off by Chan, who understood the importance of your work, you grabbed your laptop and proceeded to work in the living room. Despite having to work through quite a few new emails relating to the issue, the conversation continued in a relaxed manner. Until all the wine hit your bladder, and you excused yourself to go to the bathroom, setting the laptop on the coffee table and rushing off. You took a bit longer than usual, checking on your appearance, making sure not a hair was out of place. Maybe your cheeks were a tad pink, but it was hard to tell if it was due to the alcohol in your system or if you were preemptively embarrassed.

Neither option truly mattered it’s not like slightly pink cheeks suddenly made you unattractive. Taking a deep breath, you exited the bathroom, an anxious smile tugging at your lips. Normally Chan could always tell when you were coming back and he would call out to you before you even made it to wherever he was. This time he didn’t. This time, he was leaning forward, eyes glued to the screen of your laptop, fingers tapping away at the keys. A chill went down your spine. What is he doing? Did he need to look something up? Why didn’t he say something if he needed to use your laptop?

Creeping closer as silently as possible, you peered over his shoulder to see what he was looking at. At that moment you had the urge to throw up. Your stomach gurgled as the food you’d just consumed felt like it was souring in place. Why would he do this? Was he using me this entire time? To get information? How long has he been doing this? Your eyes stung with unshed tears, your lungs felt like they were on fire. You stumbled back, unable to stand behind him any longer, a choked breath alerting him of your presence.

Chan’s head whipped around, eyes going wide at the sight of you. “I didn’t hear you get back.”

“What were you doing?” Your voice came out shaky and you could feel your hands trembling at your sides.

He smiled nervously, his hand going to the back of his neck. “Nothing, I was just looking at the forecast for the week.”

You head spun. He lied to you. You caught him, he had to know that you saw, and he blatantly lied to you. “Don’t. Don’t lie to me. Why were you looking at my work files? You know those are confidential.”

He tried to play it off by looking embarrassed by his actions. “I’m sorry, I got curious. You’re always talking about it but you can never get into specifics.”

“Stop! Stop treating this as if it isn’t a big deal! I invited you over to tell you I’m interested in being more than friends, and you- you… You’re lying to me.” You back away from him, shaking your head, a stray tear sliding down your cheek.

“You want to date me?” He asked standing up, lips parted in surprise.

“Don’t change the topic,” you say harshly. “Tell me what you were doing. Is this the first time you’ve gone onto my laptop and accessed confidential files?”

It took a minute for him to answer, a minute that felt like an eternity. “It’s not the first time.” Your sob echoed in the room, causing him to move towards you with a distressed look on his face. “Wait, please, you don’t understand —”

“What is there to understand? You used me! I could get fired because of you!”

“Please,” Chan begged, stepping forward to grasp your hands in his.

You ripped your hands from him. “Was anything out of your mouth the truth or was everything a lie? Did you ever consider what would happen to me if it’s discovered I was the one you took information from? You know what, I don’t want your excuses, those are left to real friends. And that’s something you’re not.”

“Please, just let me explain.”

Shaking your head, you point towards the entrance to your apartment. “Get out.”

“Please,” he breathed, eyes watery as he stared at you. You felt your heart shatter.

“Leave. Get out. Now.” You set your jaw, looking away from him as more tears slid down your cheeks. “Don’t make me say it again.”

His footsteps sounded on the wooden floors as he walked away, getting softer with each step he took. Once the sound of the door being opened and shut echoed in the apartment, you felt your legs give out. You didn’t have the strength to get up, remaining on the floor as you felt the world crumble around you. A mess of emotions warred within you: disbelief, rage, betrayal, sadness. What are you meant to do now?

#spring season stories #a.c.e #a.c.e fanfic #a.c.e scenarios #a.c.e spy au #a.c.e angst #a.c.e yuchan #a.c.e chan #a.c.e chan fanfic #a.c.e chan scenarios #a.c.e yuchan fanfic #a.c.e yuchan scenarios

44 notes · View notes

happyhollow-mellowmarsh · 4 years ago

Text

History of a Spirit

There’d been rumors among a few magical conspiracy theory and research forums... of an odd blog that popped up out of nowhere one night. Upon first look, it seemed like any old ordinary jokes and oddities blog, but after a notable figure did some data mining on a whim... something else entirely appeared to viewers were they to enter the right combination of keys.

Then, and only then, would one find the research notes of one Shaela Allaway in her adventures as a recent member of the fey. Videos and text posts detailing new information on magic, or simply experiences she had encountered. You clicked the latest video.

“Ah, there we go.” A somewhat posh Edinburgh accent came along with the view of a woman with messy red hair and a very large brown coat. Oh yes, and she was also an elf with the green of her eyes swimming in a black where the white of normal eyes would be. She was excited. Smiling and also a bit hectic. Her face was weirdly close to the camera as she messed about with what sounded like writing utensils behind the camera which seemed to be resting on a desk of some sort. It was a bit hard to tell the quality due to the angle. Just that it looked vaguely wooden. That was if you were a person weird enough to try and discern that sort of thing as Shaela Allaway’s charming face filled the screen.

Eventually she pulled back, putting her hands together with a notepad between them. “Alright! Let’s get this video under way! Hello!” She waved, her smile bright and wide. “As you likely know I am Shaela Allaway. Leading researcher of fey culture, history, and mythos. Now that I am a fey myself, and magic, I have been researching other things within my time of adventure among the magical plains. Those who have been watching my videos and reading my adventure blog would well know. But today, we are at my home, as I wanted to talk about something curious that I don’t think many people have really looked into. Even the Great Witches.” As she said this she lifted one hand to her side as if she was showing something off that should be sitting in the palm of her hand. This was something most viewers from earth would not know of or even be able to see. “Minor Elemental Spirits, being one of the many names they have. I for one prefer to call them Sprites and will do so for the remainder of this video for personal ease. In any case, Sprites are a curious thing. See, in the past upon discovery they were designated as a fey entity. They actually do look vaguely fey like when they choose to take a corporeal, non elemental form. Of course more recently we have come to know that they are in fact not fey, and are instead a form of elemental. Each Sprite is being made of a single coalesced magical element, with a faint soul, and rudimentary personality. Now unlike other elementals, they seem to operate in a slightly different manner. The reason for which I can get to shortly, but my hypothesis on that reason existing I think, would be a good segway.” Moving her platformed hand back down, Shaela moved through her notes before settling on a specific page. “Alright.” She looked back at the camera and the carefree look she had at the beginning was nearly melted away at this point. At this moment she was a highly learned individual on various related subjects, speaking on theories and information with a near zealous interest. “Now I must point out this is all personal theory that I am about to go into. As currently there is no known reason for why Sprites exist or why they exist the way they do. There are several working ideas but nothing is concrete. As for my hypothesis, it relates to their weak soul and basic personality. Essentially my working theory is that when a soul has lost its tether to reality and dissipates, there is a chance that at that time there will be an existing high concentration of a specific elemental energy in the area. If there is such a high concentration and there is a strong enough fragment of a soul yet to dissipate as the soul ceases to be, that the magical energies will bond to said soul fragment. Creating a being made of said element with a weak soul and a personality based on whatever fragment of that soul was clung to. Of course, and I must say this again, it is only a hypothesis at this moment. But, that leads us into why I am curious over how they are made, and why they are different.”.

Flipping through her notes a little more, eventually Shaela takes a breath, and continues her little lesson. “So the properties of elementals are well known. They are a being composed of one or more elements in a raw state given a strange elemental based soul. Their use in magic is also well documented. Elementals have for ages been known to be good for allowing humans unaligned with or unable to use a specific element to use said element if they have one of the beings at their disposal. They are also known to enhance the magical capabilities of magic users already skilled in whatever the correlated element is. This is the beginning and end of their functions in magic. Outside of more grimm matters. Sprites are different. Sprites have highly specific abilities available to them in correspondence with their personality and aligned element. For example.”. Shaela looks around and then motions her hand to an empty space to her left near her head. “One of the Sprites who I have around me is associated with death magic, and has a relatively sinister personality. So I have found whenever I wish harm to something or potentially death to it, this Sprite uses it’s magic to bend reality to increase the potency or probability of such results. It is a very specific effect but not without potent magical power to do so. Sprites seem to concentrate all of their magical will into said single result. Though there are some oddities within it. For example.”.

Shaela again moves her hand, now motioning to her other side. “These two sprites are technically one in the same entity despite being two. If you divide them, neither has nay magical power aside from their base existence as an elemental life form. But together, they have the power to give whatever they wish good fortune. They bend the very will of reality so that whoever has their favor, has unquestionably better luck. I have tested it time and time again. You can only win coin tosses so many times in a row before the evidence is conclusive. But they also have another curious point!” Shaela smiles and raises a finger as if she is speaking to a class of buzzing students. “They can change the targeting of their magic to give somebody terrible horrible luck! In this way, I actually think that it is possible all Sprites possess this trait! Their powers are highly specific, but can be used for weal or woe! It is all very fascinating! Along with that it seems they can affect humans without them even knowing! I can not speak of who due to not wanting to ruin their situation, but I have known of normal humans who were given benefits in their daily lives that were just assumed to be natural talent that actually came from such Sprites who had taken a liking to them! It is all very fascinating!” Taking a deep breath, Shaela closed her notebook and snapped it down onto the desk by the camera. “Unfortunately that is all I know as of now but I will say if I have any further breakthroughs. The next time you all see or read from me, it will be from within the depths of the magical realm for devils and demons. I have a soul to look into trading for something I am not at allowance to discuss. Until my next update, Shaela Allaway, signing out!” Without an actual physical fanfare, Shaela simply leaned forward into the camera lens and then- click. Darkness came with the end of the video.

1 note · View note

theshatteredrose · 5 years ago

Text

Relic Keepers: Awakening of the Red Lily (Chapter 1) - Original Fiction

Title: Relic Keepers: Awakening of the Red Lily

Summary: A 1000 years after an apocalyptic event called the Bombardment, humanity have learnt how to harness the power of mana. Silverleaf Military Academy is a learning centre for Indigo Children, those who have the ability to use Mana. And they are divided into two classes; the Elites, who’s skills make them superior on the battlefield. And Passives, who’s skills do not belong outside of the Academy. Supposedly. Eishirou is classed as a Passive. He is also a Chronicler. Gathering lost information, finding relics, learning about the far-flung distant past is what he does. And he enjoys it. However, his life changes when he gets called out to his first expedition in the field with his new roommate, Zayne – a powerfully protective Elite!

Genres: Young adult, suspense, action, adventure, treasure hunt, scifi fantasy, romance, slow burn romance, gay romance

Notes: Ok, here it is. M y first attempt at an original novel! A little nervous to be honest, but I’ll try my best to be entertaining! I’ll also try my best to keep the chapters under 3k for easier reading. But, you know, things happen. Now, this will be a very long project and I will attempt to maintain weekly updates. I do hope you'll give this story a chance. And I hope you'll enjoy reading~

Ao3 | Wattpad | Inkitt | FictionPress

Chapter 1:

Eishirou huffed a tired sigh to remove an annoying strand of brown hair from his eyes. His eyes, normally a honey brown, were no doubt darken and possibly even bloodshot from staring at a bright computer screen for a few long hours.

He enjoyed his role as a Researcher and Chronicler. But staring at data for hours on end certainly got boring really quickly.

“Eishirou? You’re still here?”

Looking up from his work screen, Eishirou glanced over at his fellow Chronicler and friend.

Reddish brown hair and vivid emerald green eyes. Misaki. He was a good guy, friendly and considerate. Protective. He did have an intimidating glare of death, though. Guy knew how to scare the shit out of newbies, that was for sure. And some of the veterans, too.

“Yeah, but not for much longer, I hope,” Eishirou replied as he returned back to his work screen. “Someone was reported to have messed around with a few archives. I’m just making sure they didn’t actually mess with the data.”

Eishirou didn’t need to look over at Misaki to know that his usual friendly smile had turned into a deep frown. “Someone hacked the data? Do you know who?”

“Nope. Just that someone did.”

“I see,” Misaki murmured. “I will find out then.”

Eishirou wasn’t able to suppress an amused snort when he heard Misaki’s footsteps move away. He felt sorry for them, whoever they were. For a few seconds at least. Messing with the data was a bit no-no.

The information he was inspecting was basic, but needed to be preserved regardless. It was information he had seen all before. He knew it by heart, honestly. So, he would be able to get through it all quickly.

The prestigious Silverleaf Academy, a military university where students possessing mana-infused abilities came to train. It was located in Araluen, a Sanctuary City. Set in the middle of an island, surrounded by a large stone wall. And that was located ten miles from the shore of a vastly inhabitable continent. A continent that was reportedly to have once been as Australia. A place they now referred to as Main Land.

"Be sure to book now for the 1022nd Anniversary of the Bombardment!" the large plasma advertising board on the other side of the information centre robotically sounded, momentarily distracting Eishirou from his work.

Oh, was it that time of the year again?

The Bombardment was the name for an era in time, over a thousand years ago, where several asteroids impacted the earth within minutes of each other. Several large cities were wiped clean from the surface. Millions of lives where taken. Many more to follow in the apocalyptic aftermath. Life as those who knew it back then was irreversibly changed.

Of course, they didn't have the exact time or date when the Bombardment had occurred. Information from that era was largely lost and destroyed. And the information they had uncovered mostly contradicted itself. It was difficult to tell between all the fake propaganda and the truth. Not to mention that ruins seemed to date back further than a thousand years. Ancient. No mentioning of them in any form of text or data.

The common consensus was that the Bombardment happened over a thousand years ago. And had brought modern civilisation to its knees.

It also brought the use and discovery of mana.

The scientific community all agreed on one thing; if humanity had not discovered mana and found a way to harness it, then humanity would have been destroyed, too.

By using mana and infusing it within their inventions, they were able to rebuild society. Restructured cities. Learn how to live off the land. Learning how to harness mana within the human body.

The mana itself was largely a mystery. It was a source of energy. Mostly invisible until it was condensed and concentrated, which would then be presented in a glowing light.

However, the scientific community was divided in regards to where said mana came from. The asteroids? Or were rich mana deposits hidden within the Earth the entire time and it took a cataclysmic impact to reveal them?

There were a lot of…discussions about that topic. And certain scientists would often times get violent and confrontational.

Eishirou didn’t have a preference either way. Far as he knew, both scenarios were likely. And did it really make that much of a difference where Mana came from a thousand years ago? It wasn’t going to affect your average Joe’s way of life.

Those born after the Bombardment were often referred as Indigo Children. They were born with the innate ability to use Mana. And they fell into two categories; Elites and Passives.

Some form of discrimination was still rife amongst the Indigo Children. Elites verses and Passives. Elites are those born with battling abilities. Creating swords or other miscellaneous weapons out of mana. They were the ones who fight against the creatures known simply as ShadowDwellers.

ShadowDwellers were, simply put, abominations. Deformed creatures that also possessed the ability to use Mana. Again, the scientific community was divided with where they came from. Again, the asteroids? Or deep within the Earth itself? Some even believed that they were once humans themselves, mutated by mana in some way.

Silverleaf Academy had several Elite Squadrons that ensured the safety of students and residents alike.

Eishirou was a Passive Indigo Child. He didn’t fight in battles. Though, he could enter the battlefield if necessary. Only as a Medic, however. He possessed no fighting skills whatsoever. What skills he did possess was useful for research and archaeology.

He was a bit of an oddity, if one went by the Academy Hierarchy. He was a Chronicler, someone who dealt with gathering information and ensuring its safety for future generations. So, many Elites would refer to them as Paper-Pushers.

But he was also a Medic. And according to the Hierarchy, he was off-limits. No harm was to come to medics, no matter what. Anyone who dared to harm a medic deserved severe punishment.

So, Eishirou was both a nobody and someone of immunity.

In short, the Academy Hierarchy was stupid.

Chroniclers and Information Gatherers were important, however. The ‘modern’ civilisations from a thousand years ago seemed to have believed that they were the pinnacle of evolution. And they possessed all the information that there was to be known.

And yet, many of the ruins that have been discovered date back potentially millions of years. Civilisations deep underground and within the seas. Places and locations that were believed to have been impossible during ‘modern’ civilisation.

Either they were completely arrogant. Or completely ignorant.

A mixture of both, perhaps.

Scientists of today refuse to make the same mistake. They wish to document everything, no matter how controversial or ‘wrong’ that information appeared to be. Fact over fiction. Truth over lies.

Well, the document seemed perfectly intact. Done! He was a free man.

A buzzing sound from his communicator, however, stopped him dead in his tracks. Typical.

With a drawn-out groan, Eishirou slumped back into his chair and picked up his communicator. He didn’t need to see who was ringing him to know who it was. “Prof, you’re slipping. I didn’t even get my butt out of the chair this time.”

The hologram scene of Professor Chryses chortled. “I’ll try harder next time.”

As long as he didn’t catch him in the shower again. If he did, Eishirou was just going to ignore it. No matter how many times he rang.

“Let me guess; you got an assignment?” Eishirou asked.

The middle-aged man on the other side of the communicator nodded. With his dark sun-burned skin and deep wrinkles around his eyes, he was your typical off-the-grid researcher. The best at the Academy, to be completely frank. And he was Eishirou’s mentor.

“That’s right. And you’re coming with me.”

That surprised Eishirou. The only field research experience he had was helping in the restoration of relics and runestones that Jacob and his fellow researchers had discovered. He hadn’t been away from the city before.

“Really? Where to? Are we heading for Main Land?”

Jacob shook his head. “No. A small but tropically dense island thirty miles from here. It should be a rather short assignment. A damaged stone tablet was discovered.”

Ah, that was why he wanted him to join him. That, and he was old enough to start gaining some field experience. “And you need my expertise?”

“Correct,” Jacob smiled. “See you in an hour. Elite Team 3 will be meeting us at the Hanger 12.”

“Elites?” Eishirou repeated in a surprised tone.

“ShadowDwellers had been reported in the area,” Jacob explained simply.

Ah, that explained a lot. Though, there seemed to be an increase in ShadowDweller sightings and occurrences lately. He briefly wondered why that was.

“Right, see you in a bit,” Eishirou returned before he ended the call.

Well, no point dawdling now.

Eishirou grabbed his shoulder bag from the floor of his work desk and stood up. The small door which encapsulated him at his desk slid open noiselessly, allowing him to step out onto the stairs.

“You’re heading out again?” a feminine voice practically whined at him.

He turned to look over at another Chronicler. Long purple hair, dark pink eyes, quite fragile in appearance. Lyvia. She worked full-time within the Communication centre. Her frail body prevented her from joining field missions.

“The ol’ slave driver wants me to join him on an assignment,” Eishirou explained. “A short one, he claims. But we all know what that means.”

Lyvia’s pout quickly transformed into a smile and she nodded. “I heard Elites. Which team?”

“Team 3.”

“Oh!” her expression brightened unexpectedly. “I heard they got a new member. Ernesta practically forced him to join.”

That sounded like something Ernesta would do. She was very mild-mannered, peaceful in some ways. But she was terrifying when angry. Oooh, boy, Eishirou never wanted to get on her bad side.

“You might get to meet him,” Lyvia continued before she gave a telling giggle. “He’s supposedly cute.”

Eishirou rolled his eyes. “I’ll be sure to let you know.”

He bid his fellow Chroniclers farewell as he turned and walked up the pathway toward the exit. He walked past the main Observation Deck and out through the automatic sliding doors. He noted that the Observation Deck was empty. Which was usually a good thing. Nothing untoward was occurring throughout the Academy and city. Whenever the Communicator Commander was there, it meant trouble was about to go down.

Eishirou hadn’t had the pleasure of being on duty when Professor Jalen, or Communications Commander, started barking orders. He was a Chronicler, but he dealt more with the field work. Often aiding Professor Chryses. He only ever used his Chronicler privileges when he needed some classified information. Or just information in general.

He had the ability to access any information at any given time. It was easier within the Communication Centre, but anywhere he could get access to the internet, he could get the information he wanted.

The buzzing of his communicator pulled Eishirou from his thoughts once more. When he pulled it out of his pocket, he half expected to see that it was the Jacob again. Instead he was surprised to see it was his dorm superintendent.

“Katsuto, what’s up?” Eishirou asked as the hologram of a man with a stern expression flickered into view.

“Just informing you that you have a new roommate,” Katsuto stated in his usual brisk and stern manner.

He stopped dead in his tracks. Wait, roommate?

“What roommate?” Eishirou immediately asked. “No one said anything about me getting a roommate!”

Katsuto barely even blinked at his response. “You do now. He’s waiting for you. Play nice.”

“W-wait a minute-!” Eishirou spluttered. But it was useless. Katsuto finished the call on his end and Eishirou was left staring at the screen of his communicator.

He sighed loudly as his shoulders slumped forward in defeat. Asshole. Could have at least warned him a few days in advance. He knew he was to get a new roommate one day, after his old roommate had unfortunately taken ill and had to move to a dorm closer to the medical wing.

But that was beside the point. A bit of common courtesy from Katsuto wouldn’t have gone astray! And he didn’t even mention the guy’s name!

Ugh…

He uttered another sigh and kept walking. Well, there was nothing he could do about it now. He had an assignment to skip off to, anyway. He couldn’t play host for very long. Even so, he hoped the guy was easy to get along with.

After a few minutes of walking, he finally reached the door to his room. He took a minute to gather his composure before he used his key card to open the door. And he stepped inside.

His gaze immediately flickered over to the bed located on the left side of the room. And yup, there was someone there.

He appeared to have been going through his luggage. Tall guy, a couple of heads taller than Eishirou was. So…over six feet. With floppy dark blue hair. His eyes appeared purple. His skin was a light tan. Perhaps it was natural, or it meant that he had spent quite a lot of time outside.

No matter.

“Ah, you’re my new roommate,” Eishirou greeted, gaining the new guy’s attention.

The guy turned in his direction and gave him a thankfully friendly looking smile. “That’s me. You must be Eishirou.”

The door slid closed behind him as Eishirou moved into the room. “And that’s me.”

“The name’s Zayne.”

As Eishirou shook the other guy’s hand in greeting, he noted that he had an Elite emblem on his jacket. He had to fight the urge to do a double-take. Wait, an Elite? Why would an Elite be rooming with a Passive? Especially as Passive like him?

Although, he was…kinda cute, he had to admit. He had the body of an Elite; subtle muscles, sleek form, straight back, and oozing with confidence. Hoped he retained that friendliness after learning that Eishirou was a paper-pusher.

“Sorry, can’t stay long to chat,” Zayne suddenly stated with a wry grin. “First day here and I’m already on an assignment.”

“Doesn’t take long, unfortunately,” Eishirou returned with an empathetic tone. Before he, too, grinned. “I have one, too. Where you headed?”

“Hanger 12 for now.”

Wait…

“Ah, what Elite team, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Team 3,” Zayne answered quickly, completely unbothered that Eishirou knew he was an elite without asking.

So, he was the new guy on Elite Team 3? Eishirou wasn’t entirely sure what to feel about that. Some Elite’s don’t like the prospect of acting like bodyguards to Passives.

Well, one way to find out.

“Well…looks like you’re escorting me there,” Eishirou commented, earning himself a confused tilt of the head from Zayne. “I’m a Passive. And you’re going to be acting as a bodyguard for this assignment.”

#original fiction #original novel #original characters #writing #fiction #Relic Keepers #Relic Keepers Awakening of the Red Lily

10 notes · View notes