#i sent in an application but no word yet on if she's still available

[anachronic-cobra]

Y'all I went to a cat cafe and met basically the reincarnation of my childhood cat, I hope she's not already spoken for

[techtalksfics]

If I had known... (Tech x f!reader)

Summary: The reader finds out that the boys had headed off treasure hunting with Phee. Jealousy, a shame spiral and soft confessions ensue.

Warnings: a little soft, fluffy love, some drinking (I swear not all of my future stories will involve drunken stupidity), some anxiety vibes.

Author's note: sorry that this was delayed, between the illness and the job applications, it's been a busy week! I hope this is not awful!

Word Count: 5.7K (oops)

Now Available: Part Two

After your shift ended, you wandered towards Cid's, bag over your shoulder, expecting to find your favourite clones relaxing between missions. That is where they had told you they would be.

Yet, when you arrived, you found the bar to deserted. Looking very much like it did in the days before the Bad Batch came crashing into your world. Why was the bar empty?

You put your bag behind the bar, out of sight and frowned. You checked your comm device for messages - the screen lit up with no new messages. No messages meant they hadn't been sent off on another mission. You walked towards the back office, hoping Cid could shed some light. Perhaps they had left for a mission in a hurry, you pondered. They normally tell you when they are heading off world. 'There is enough time between the planning and supply runs, to keep you apprised of our whereabouts', as Tech had told you. You thought they certainly would have told you tonight, particularly when you had made plans for dinner with Tech.

"Hey Cid," you sighed as her door opened. She was behind her desk, holoscreen open and was highlighting her worst features. She closed it suddenly as you entered her office. She really needed to remind you lot of manners and how not to get too comfortable in her bar. "Have you seen the guys? I was supposed to see Tech this evening."

Now that Cid thought about it, she really should've seen this coming. They'd all left in such a hurry and you were really not going to like her answer.

"They've headed off world searching for some kind of treasure," she rolled her eyes and stood. "Typical, that they'd scarper just as a new mission came in." As she walked around her desk toward you, she sighed and gave you the piece of information you were missing, "they went off with Phee earlier this afternoon." Your whole body stilled at that.

"With Phee?!" You couldn't help that her name left your throat with almost loth-cat screech. You weren't the type to get jealous, particularly when you knew Tech wasn't even your boyfriend. He was just your friend but there was still something about her unashamed flirting with him on their first encounter that continued to rub you the through way. All these many, many months later.

"Come on, kid," you felt the sharp edge of Cid's clawed fingers wrap around your shoulder, "I get the feeling, you could use a drink around about now."

Three very strong drinks in, you found yourself with your head resting on your knuckles and slightly propped up by the pillar beside you. It was as if all of your muscle had gone into your complaining and the walls presence was the only thing keeping you in your seat. "-and it's not even like he's my boyfriend or anything. He doesn't have to tell me where he's going or who he's going with." You sighed, lifting the almost empty glass to your lips. After take a sip, you continued your tirade, "it's just way she calls him brown eyes." You did your best to imitate her unique accent, which caused Cid to roll her eyes. The way she had the first time she'd heard the nickname. "They all have brown eyes," you continued, trying to ignore the onslaught of looks you were getting from Cid as you talked and talked. "Yes, his eyes are phenotypically normal for a clone but there is something so distinct in the way his eyes express what he is saying and thinking. It's the fact that she sees that too."

"Kid," Cid's voice was stern and your head snapped up to look at her once more, "face it, you've got it bad. So instead of whining at me about it, why don't you actually do something about it. Tell Goggles how you feel."

"I can't tell him how I feel!" You retorted. Cid let out an exasperated, 'oh brother.' "I'm just this little nobody who grew up on Ord Mantell, because her parents didn't want her and he's..."

"A clone?" She finished for you. "That's all he has ever known how to be. Try to remember that, kid, okay?" You shook your head and asked for another drink. She put another in front of you, though she wasn't convinced that she had made the right decision in doing so. She shook her head and walked away, mumbling something about 'there not being enough credits in galaxy for her to deal with this'.

None of what she said stopped you from downing several more drinks and seeking out Bolo and Ketch, who were playing Dejarik in the far corner of the room. Truthfully, if you'd asked them, they would say with absolute certainty that they were trying to not get involved in your chatter. But you just drunk enough to not care about that. You sat, hugging the backwards chair, legs spread across its frame and mumbling on about Phee and Tech as they continued their match. "It's not as they wouldn't make sense together," you continued where your thoughts had been left with Cid, "the mercenary and the pilot. The fact and the fiction. They'd be like a perfectly..." you burped out the bubbles from your drink in the most unladylike manner and continued, "a perfectly balanced knife of intergalactic trouble."

Bolo and Ketch simply looked at each other in utter confusion and then looked up at you, completely perplexed and unable to utter one useful word to you. This was well outside their area of expertise. You sighed. Again.

"Alright," Cid's voice came booming into the room as she re-entered the main bar from her office, "you've had enough." You must have been on your sixth drink by this point. "Come on, up you get," she'd already grabbed your bag from behind the bar and was ushering you towards the door, "go home, sober up," she pointed her finger at you with a stern glare set in her eyes, "and don't come back until you've fixed this 'woe is me' attitude. You're bringing down my clientele."

As you stumbled up the steps, you placed your hand on the hall and sighed. God this was a new low, you whined to yourself.

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

Omega was the first to stop you at the end of the alley. As soon as you had seen them, you had frozen in space. They had returned and the boys were clearly en route to Cid's with Phee. Visions of the last night you had been in there came flooding back to your mind. Oh god, you panicked, what if Cid told Tech about what had happened?

You wouldn't exactly put that past her.

You looked at Phee with despair in your eyes, she had her arm around a rather tense looking Sergeant. She was rambling off about something, her other arm was above her head and she exclaimed something you couldn't quite hear. Her voice certainly does travel and it certainly kept you routed in your spot.

Tech was walking just behind them and you weren't convinced he was listening to Phee talk in any shape or form. He was tinkering away on his comm device. You knew, right then, you had been a complete and utter fool. A completely smitten, idiotic fool.

Yet, you couldn't move. You couldn't convince yourself to move towards them, to shout out or make yourself known in any way. You couldn't face them.

Omega called out your name and, in the horror of seeing Tech's neck snap up to look for you, you instantly turned on your heel and ran back around the corner of the building. You could barely breathe, as those brown eyes flittered through your mind. Those beautiful, intelligent brown eyes. They were unique - no matter what he said. They were so wonderfully, uniquely Tech.

"Omega - WAIT!" You heard Hunter's stern yell. She was running after you and here you were, hiding and clutching your chest, unable to breathe. How were you going to explain this one, you groaned to yourself internally.

You heard Omega closing in on your as she called out your name again. She reached the corner and spotted you, almost jolting back as she saw you. Concern instantly washed over her features and she saw you in a thousand pieces in front of her. "Wh-what's wrong?" She questioned almost immediately and you knew you couldn't tell her the truth.

Oh, I just saw Tech and Phee and my heart just completely faltered in a stupid agony. Yeah, no - you definitely couldn't say that.

"Nothing, Omega, I'm okay. Honest," you thought you'd try.

"No, you're not."

"N-no, I'm not." You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself enough to get yourself out of this mess. You realised that the easiest way out of this was to run right through it, with your partner in crime, Omega. "Hey, do you reckon Hunter would let you run off with me for a bit? I could use some air."

"We are outside," she said with a delightfully innocent chuckle, "there's quite a lot of air out here."

"Heh -" was the only sound that left your throat, "doesn't feel like it." Reaching your hand up to your forehead, you wiped the sweat that drenched your brow. You were a mess. An utter, idiotic mess. "Let's go get some better air, Omega."

In that moment, it was clear that Omega knew you needed something, she just wasn't quite sure what that was. She played along - as she always did. You took another deep breath as Omega ran back towards Hunter at the other end of the alley. You assumed she went to explain where she was going and you heard his deep baritone announce 'alright, but don't be long'. You imagined him pointing his finger at her, fatherly fashion activated.

You took another deep breath.

But then you heard it. You heard Tech speak softly to Omega and you tried so hard not to listen. 'Is she okay?' You heard, 'does she require medical assistance?'

Oh Tech, you silly fool, you quipped to yourself. You didn't hear Omega's response but before long, she reappeared at your side, offering you her dainty hand. She asked where you were going. With a smile, you took her hand and said "let's go check out the best view in Ord Mantell."

You headed out towards the docking yard together. The Marauder sat neatly alongside a handful of other ships, currently being refuelled.

Heading over to the wall, you started to climb ladder after ladder until you reached the top landing pad. You sat yourself down, with Omega at your side. There was a gentle breeze settling in around you as the sun began to set over Ord Mantell. The orange and purple haze of the distant sunset bore across your skin as you settled down. Breathe in and breathe out. That's all you had to do.

Neither of you spoke right away, though you could tell that Omega had a lot of questions about what she had just seen in that alleyway. You close your eyes, simply enjoying the breeze.

"Are you gonna -" You smile, and cut her off.

"I'll tell you Omega," you lolled your head to the side and looked down at her. "But you cannot, and I mean cannot, repeat what you hear to the others. Deal?"

"Why would I tell the others? Are you in danger?" She queried.

"Do we have a deal?" You quirked your eyebrow at her, raising your hand towards her, for dramatic effect. As she shook it, you nodded your head decisively at her. "I..." you started and then sighed. You had found yourself sighing a lot in recent days. "I like Tech. A lot. Cid told me you lot had been off with Phee and I acted stupid and jealous about it. Drank a bit too much, talked a bit too much. So when I saw you lot, I guess I was, well, embarrassed... to say the least."

"You...like..." Omega began to process the information, repeating it in almost the exact tone it had been said. Poor child, you had just dumped far too much information on her. "Tech?"

"Yes."

"So... you hid." She queried.

"Yep."

"Even though you knew he'd seen you."

"Yes again."

"Even though that probably drew more attention than doing nothing."

"Yes. That is about the size of it, yes." You chuckled as she looked at you in confusion. "Hey, I said you couldn't tell them. I didn't say any of it would make sense."

There was a wonderfully natural laughter that settled between the two of you and you felt your cheeks heat up from the sheer embarrassment of the whole situation. She asked you why you felt the need to hide. "Because, all of a sudden, I felt my entire body collapse at the mere sight of a man and that terrified me. It all terrified me." You prayed she didn't ask you why.

"But why?"

Damn it, you internally cursed. You should've remembered her inquisitive nature was destined to be a nightmare here. When you didn't speak and instead settled your gaze back on the sunset, she continued, "you've never had a problem around Tech before. You're really the only person he takes an interest in outside of us lot." Kids got a point, you thought. "Besides, we all know that Tech likes you!"

As if hit by a sudden bolt of lightning, Omega was on her feet and was smiling in glee.

This did not bode well for you. Where the hell is she going now?!

"Omega, wait -" You found yourself yelling after her, just as Hunter had done earlier. She really did move too fast. "Omega," you called as you groaned to your feet. She'd already reached the first ladder by the time you stood. "Omega, where are you going? You're going to get me in trouble with Hunter." It was almost a beg, you realised.

It was of no use, regardless, she was already two ladders down by the time you'd gotten a foot onto the first one. By the time you'd make it half way down, she'd probably be in Cid's bar already. Before you could even stop her.

What if she was going to tell Tech. Oh, hell no. This was going to backfire so badly.

You started to climb as fast as you could, calling out her name as you went. She didn't respond. So you continued to climb down, down and down...and quickly.

Hunter's going to kill me, you groaned to yourself as your feet touched the dirt. Your older bones were not designed for chasing children around Ord Mantell.

Luckily, and much to your surprise, she had stopped at the Marauder. She was stood at the entrance, hands on her hips, waiting for you. Her face still shone with glee. Your body was still in a panic so you ran across to her, only stopping when you were within about 4 feet of her. You panted, trying to catch your breath.

Shaking your head, you asked, "okay, so, what are we doing on here?" She grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the bunks. You suddenly felt like you were invading the private mental space of your favourite clones. It was an uncomfortable level of familiarity that you had been granted, without their knowlegde.

"It's your turn to make a deal with me." She bounced on her toes, and she held out her hand. As you shook it, she nodded her head at you, mimicking your action from earlier. With a chuckle, you shook your head at her. "Tech," she began sheepishly, "wouldn't exactly like to know that I do this. I don't even know if he would want you to know."

"If he wouldn't -"

"But you need it and right now, you come first." As your curiosity piqued, you folded your arms across your chest and nodded your head, urging her on. She was going to tell you anyway. "Sometimes, I use his tablet when mine is out of battery and he isn't using it. Look -" Grabbing the device, she lit the screen and showed it to you.

Your heart had certainly stopped. You were so convinced it had.

There, in pixelated form, was the photo you had taken together after you'd stolen his goggles. Donning a silly grin, you still had the goggles on. Your head was against Tech's shoulder and his arm was around your waist. As you remembered this tender moment, you could almost feel his hand on your hip still. After all this time. His eyes were squinting in the photo, but he had a small, proud smile quirked on his lips. Almost prideful as he stood next to you.

You had never even asked to see the photo after it was taken and now, you had just wished you had. You loved it.

Well, you thought, this was certainly a new development.

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

When you walked into Cid's with Omega, you tried so hard to keep your head held high after earlier. But between Cid's soft squint, Omega's smirk, Hunter's titled head and Tech's sudden rise to his feet as he saw you, you felt yourself retreating inside yourself once again.

You tried to smile at Tech but the moment your eyes caught his, you immediately heard brown eyes in your head and made a beeline for the nearest bar stool instead. Phee looked between everybody, completely perplexed by the strange silence that had settled.

A drink was placed in front of you almost immediately.

"No repeats of last week's antics, kid, you got it?" Cid pointed her long, taloned finger at you and you held your hands up in defence, mumbling some form of an apology.

"What happened last week?" Hunter enunciated each word with a careful look in your direction. When you didn't look at him, he looked to Cid. Cid looked at Bolo and Ketch. Nobody said a word.

However, from the corner of your mouth, you noticed Bolo about to open his mouth. In a panic, you pulled a small hydrospanner from your pocket and threw it across the room at him, hitting him just below his shoulder. With an uproarious 'OW', Bolo grabbed his arm and looked at you stunned.

"Nothing." You side-eyed Bolo, squinting your not-so subtle point across the room, "nothing happened, isn't that right?"

"No," he repeated quickly, "n-nothing happened last week. Perfectly normal week." He affirmed and turned back around to face Ketch. He stared into his drink and the room fell silent once more.

Omega looked at you, jaw slackened. She hadn't expected you to get quite so, well, violent, in your decision to hide your emotions from Tech.

For the first time since you'd met her, you were actually glad to see Phee. An easy, long distraction is just what we need, you thought.

"So, Phee," you quickly turned to face her with a small smile, "what fool's errand were you running this time?"

And with that, question time about the previous week had expired. Phee launched into her latest bold tale, arms waiving in front of her, exaggerating each foe, each near death encounter and the bravery of her treasure hunter partner, Omega. You couldn't help but smile at that part. It was certainly a long play by play of everything that had happened during the time that they had not been around you.

As you trained all of your focus on Phee and her antics, you didn't notice Tech watching you from the pillar by the bar. His knee was bouncing absentmindedly as he rested his head on his first. He was studying you intently and unashamedly. Something certainly had happened whilst we were away, Tech mused to himself, and it was something that all of the women in the room seemed privy too. With that in mind, he decided that perhaps he would not wish to know. There was always something so terrifying about women in cahoots with one another.

With that, Tech stood, drink in hand and moved across the room to sit with Wrecker and Omega. Phee's voice was certainly less loud in that corner of the room. It was also dark enough that he could simply watch you, quietly studying the soft features of your face.

As things began to wind down for the evening, Omega had given you a gentle, knowing hug and headed out into the night with Hunter. Wrecker was snoring softly in the corner, his Lula under his arm. Guess he's spending the night snoring away in Cid's, you determined as you looked him. You went to grab your bag when the familiar voice came from behind you, causing you to jump slightly.

"May I walk you back to your domicile?" Tech asked, pulling you back to the reality of it all. He pushed his goggles back up his nose and softly cleared his throat. Those were the first words he had said to you all evening. Though you hadn't given him much chance to say anything else.

You opened your mouth, as if to protest but Tech beat you to it, "it is late, and we are both fully aware that this part of Ord Mantell is hardly safe at this time of night." You assumed this may have been Tech's way of saying he was concerned about you safety.

"Sure, thanks Tech," you smiled gratefully as he offered you his hand to jump down off the stool. Chivalrous too. Heat pooled in your stomach as you walked behind him out of the door and back up the steps outside Cid's establishment. You stepped out into the night together and you became overcome with that familiarity that settled between the two of you.

Neither of you said anything until you reached the corner of the street, well out of the ear shot of the others. Not that anybody would have been listening, really.

"I wanted to ask you about earlier this evening." Of course he did. "When you hid behind that wall." His finger lazily pointed towards the wall as you walked past it. He cleared his throat before continuing on, "I was going to discuss it with you earlier but something told me it wasn't the prudent moment to raise the issue."

"No, it wouldn't have been." You affirmed for him, he hadn't asked but you could guess that his statement was more question than statement.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine Tech." You managed to sneak a look at the clone, he was already looking at you and so your eyes danced together in confusion as you walked. You looked away, and sighed, you offered a simple explanation, "I was in a shame spiral. Omega sorta helped with it earlier. That's where we went."

"A shame spiral?" He repeated, clearly processing this phrase for the first time. "I am unfamiliar with that term."

"I would probably be more surprised if you knew it."

"And what would you be spiralling over?" He wondered aloud, slowing down to match your newly reduced speed. You were approaching your home now. Hopefully, you could sneak inside without having to explain too much.

"Phee," you muttered, "I was shame spiralling over my jealousy of Phee." You cleared your throat, suddenly feeling all of the air escaping your lungs. He didn't say another word and for that, you were so very, very glad.

However, the reason Tech was not querying you came down to one simple thing: he couldn't fathom a question nor a statement in his mind that would even begin to cover the insanity of the statement you had just made. There was no what, why, who or how that seemed to end in a plausible, logical solution. He was perplexed. Women, and their emotions, were clearly not his expertise. He had already known that. As you noticed his gaze falling forward with a slight squint, you could almost see the cogs turning in his head and in fear of the question finally falling from his lips, you decided to change the subject just enough to bring him back to Ord Mantell and out of the deep recesses of his mind. You questioned how much of the story Phee had told was true.

"Well, as is usual with Phee, certain details, including her own heroism, were greatly embellished, but I suppose for the most part, the story was correct."

That was oddly concise for Tech. He was still thing about what you had said.

"Well, it sounds like you had a wild week then," you chuckled and scratched at the back of your neck.

You'd reached the main door to the grubby looking block of flats you lived in. You had almost expected Tech to stop here and say goodnight. But he was still so wrapped up in the questions swimming through his mind that he seemed to follow you up three flights of stairs without even thinking about it and, as you finally reached your front door, he asked the question you had dreaded, "I do not understand. Why would you be jealous of Phee?"

As you unlocked your front door, you turned and sighed in his direction. His eyes began searching yours for any kind of logical explanation, but all he could find was fear, weariness and an uncomfortable uncertainty. None of those were things he wished to find in the eyes he considered to be the most beautiful in the galaxy. You leant into the door frame, crossing your arms over your chest and finally decided to simply say it, "because of how she is with you, Tech."

"That is absurd." That statement had sort of slipped off his tongue before he had given it any real thought or appraisal and boy, did he wish he had thought that one through. Before you could say anything further, justify anything further, you simply mumbled a 'yeah, well, goodnight Tech' and tapped the comm panel to close the door.

You rested your head against the door, convincing yourself that Tech would have walked away and your heart dropped. That had not exactly gone how you thought it would or even should have.

But then you could hear the muffled sound of Tech clearing his throat.

"Phee tells inconsistent stories. She talks, constantly, yet does not seem to actually anything of import. It's maddening," you smiled softly at that, "not to mention the fact we were in another life threatening situation as a result of her desire for treasure. She is often greedy, convoluted and she calls me brown eyes despite me reminding her that brown in the phenotypic eye colour of all clones. It is not distinct to me." You turned and rested your back against the door as he spoke. He began to talk through it all, through his thoughts of Phee, through their most recent exploit. You felt like you could be standing there listening to him talk about Phee for a long time. He seemed to letting loose a babble of information that had been hidden within his cool interior for so long.

Truthfully, Tech was terrified in this moment and that was why he was babbling. He wasn't even sure if you were still listening. You'd shut the door, almost onto his face.

Perhaps it was the notion that you weren't listening that was giving him the courage to carry on talking in this moment, "you have nothing to fear of Phee. Not one thing to be jealous of, cyar'ika." The final word dripped from his tongue like honey, so sweet and smooth that you were convinced you must have heard him incorrectly.

You said nothing. How could you? You'd just shut the front door to your home in his face and he was just talking at you. He hadn't said anything you didn't already know. Deep down you knew Tech didn't like Phee. That was why you had spiralled. You were being 100 per cent ridiculous, even now.

"Most importantly, she is not the person I-" You heard him clear his throat again. He was so afraid of what he needed to say to you, to make you understand. "She is not the person I think of in the early hours of the morning when the ship is silent, nor the person I think of in the gentle hue of the evening when I should be fixing the Marauder. You are maddening to me too."

You smiled again, turning back to rest your hand and forehead on the door. He was resting his forehead on the door too, simply to ensure that the softness of his voice carried through to you.

"I am maddened because I cannot shift you from my thoughts. Your smile, your stories and the fact that you always seem to listen to the information I try so hard to share with the others. It is as if you really care about what I have to say and that, that is not something I feel very often. Not even with my own brothers." There was a painful silence for a moment, Tech was listening for any sign that you were still listening to him.

"I will admit I did try to not think of you. But you are all of I want to think of." He ran his index finger down the centre of your door, almost longingly wishing you would open the door for him. "I think of what it would feel like to simply hold you, or kiss you. To be with you in every way my brain can even conceive. Please, cyar'ika, open the door."

And so, you did.

When you looked up at him, it was evident that he hadn't actually expected you to open the door. His right hand was gripping the top of the door frame above him, his weight resting lazily upon it. He smiled and comically lowered the finger he had been using to trace across your door.

He stood slightly and searched your eyes once more, "naturally, I have always credited myself on being of exceptional intelligence, due to my enhanced genetics." He looked deep into your eyes, searching for any sign that he should stop talking. He couldn't find anything but adoration and that began to startle him a little. "I am intelligent about everything, except you. Perhaps I would also extend that to include the female psyche generally in that category," you smirked at him, crossing your arms again, "of all the things that I had thought had harmed you or upset you this evening, I did not expect an interest," he tested the word in front you, to be sure he wasn't wrong, "in me, to be the reason. If I had known you felt that way about Phee, about me, then I would have -"

That was enough. He had said enough now.

Before he could continue talking, you grabbed him by his chest plate and pulled him through the threshold of your home. Guiding him by his armour, you moved Tech towards the grey arm chair closest to you. He was somehow still talking, though the sentences were now uncertain and broken. Your heart was beating so loud that you could no longer even hear what he was saying.

With an 'oof', Tech had collided with the chair, his knees buckling at the contact. His hands found your waist with a sweet uncertainty. He softly grabbed at the fabric of your dress, wishing he was not wearing his gloves. You deliberating lowered your face towards him and he froze. Unable to speak as he studied the beautiful features that were before him. You hair cascaded around your shoulders, gravity pulling it towards him as you straddled his narrow waist. You finally spoke, "I was jealous because was able to say the things to you that I wanted to say, to do the things the things that I wanted to do," you clarified and with one final smirk, you whispered "brown eyes."

You felt the groan build in his stomach as you said it. A blush had crept up his neck and over his cheeks at the statement. You simply sat and looked at him as his lips hung slightly open. The nickname hit him differently as it slipped from your lips, smooth and loving. Tasting of honey and home.

Slowly, but surely, you finally lowered your lips to his.

Almost instinctually, one of his hands raised to the side of your chin, guiding your lips to his. His lips were softer than you'd expected. You'd assumed the rugged clones would be just that - rugged. But, as you often were with Tech, you found yourself pleasantly surprised and you felt the force with which he kissed you.

There was a tenderness to his movement, as if he had waited for this as long as you had. As if he wanted the moment to continue on forever, just as you did.

You even enjoyed the sensation of his cool goggles against your cheekbones, sure to leave a little mark when you pull away. You simply enjoyed the taste of Tech, the way his lips seemed to meld so perfectly with yours.

As you pulled back from him for the first time, you could him smiling so genuinely and sweetly and, in that moment, you knew. You knew he would never look at Phee the way he was looking at you right now. You had stopped the cogs of Tech's overactive mind and in its place, left a lusty, cocky male, who simply wanted nothing more than to kiss you and hold you for the rest of his life.

He led your lips back towards yours by the hand at your chin and he tipped his head towards yours. You felt the arm around your waist tighten as your lips made contact. Without thinking, you found yourself grinding once upon his lap, gasping at the friction. He groaned into the kiss before pulling away.

"If I had but known..." he breathed as his head pulled back from yours, resting on the back of the sofa. His breath was heavy in his chest and he looked up at you with a soft smile.

"If you but known how much I wanted you..." you whispered back, as you rested your head against his shoulder. Your breath soft against his ear.

[countrymusiclover]

10 - A Special First Date

Part 11

Dr. Redheaded Neighbor

Comment your thoughts down below or in a reblog post

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Getting out of the Uber car I walked inside the firehouse 51 small door since the larger vehicle doors were shut most likely until they received a call for an emergency they needed to attend to. Seeing the back doors of the ambulance were hung opened and I saw some familiar blonde hair moving around. “Sylvie Brett!”

“Yeah that’s me. Can I help you – Mallory, what are you doing here?” She glanced over her shoulder sending me a huge friendly grin on her face.

I stopped walking when I was standing outside the doors with a hand on my hip. I was wearing my old Army jacket that I hadn’t felt like wearing after the day I returned home. “I have a few hours before Will comes and picks me up, so I figured I’d come and hang with you. “

“Awe that’s cool. Although I gotta say that today has been pretty slow. But I do have some good news for you. My boss told me when you come into his office he has an application available for you at the ready.”

“How about right now. I’m free for a little bit.” I suggested hopefully.

She nodded gesturing her head toward an office door. We walked inside the building turning a few corners until we stood outside an office that read Chief on the door. “Chief Boden, I’d like to introduce Mallory Easton. She’s the former Army k-9 officer I have been telling you about.” She lead me inside where I saw a tall black man wearing a white shirt sitting in a desk chair.

“It’s nice to meet you, chief Boden.” I extended my hand to the man causing him to rise from his chair.

He shakes my hand firmly. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Easton. Brett has told me quite about what you did in your friends building. You saved her life.”

“I wasn’t sure if the clot would hold. I just remember seeing some pretty bad wounds when I was deployed. Just followed my basic instincts.” I shrugged my shoulders in response.

“Well, it was very impressive. And that is one of the reasons I am considering hiring you to be on my team.”

I shake my head still making point that he needed to understand regardless if they both wanted me to work here in this fire department. “I appreciate the opportunity. Truly I do. But I don’t have the experience of a paramedic or a firefighter. I know I can take the course to learn but would you mind that I’d be having to learn everything and be on the team at the same time.”

“If you’re considering taking the job you can start taking the courses now. Once you’ve gotten through them you’ll have a job waiting here in a few months.” He explained leaning his back against his desk. “The fact that you are a former Army vet will boost your credibility to get through the programs.”

I parted my mouth open processing if I took the opportunity or not. In all honesty I was spending most of the time when Will was at work by myself. Maxon’s company could only do so much considering he couldn’t talk back. Being in this department would be a good distraction and I could help people that I couldn’t necessarily do when I was deployed overseas. “Fill out the application information for paramedic training and I’ll be seeing you soon.”

“Thank you so much, Chief Boden.” I smiled shaking his hand again before Brett and I exited his office and back outside to the trucks.

Brett paused in her steps hugging me before saying a word back. “I can’t believe you’re going to be working here.”

“Woah slow down, Brett. I’m not anywhere near completely getting the job yet.”

She breaks the hug and I sent her a smile. “I’m just excited for you is all. I’m not worried about you getting to work here. You’ll do fine given the injuries and situations you’ve been through.”

“Thanks for having high confidence in me.” I responded before a car horn started going off and I saw a familiar black car driving up to the open double doors. I knew I recognized the vehicle but wasn’t entirely sure till the driver door opened and auburn hair came into my view with that cheeky grin. “Will!”

He shut the door coming over to us. “Mal. Sylvie.”

“What are you doing here. I thought you didn’t get off work until 5. It’s 3:50.”

He shoved his hands in the jacket he wore over his red hospital scrubs. “Natalie agreed she’d take on the rest of my shift for me. Plus I knew I wanted to surprise you.”

“Awe.”

Brett chimed in. “Hey if you need somebody to watch your dog for the evening I’d totally be open for it.”

“That would be great. Thanks, Sylvie.” I hugged her back too as a thank you.

Will held out his hand for me knowing we both needed to change clothes before going on our first date tonight. “Are you ready to go then, Mallory?”

“Yep.” Placing my hand in his we started walking back to the car. “We’ll drop Maxon off here!”

Sylvie grinned calling back to us. “Treat my girl right, Dr. Halstead!” She watched us drive away from the firehouse feeling excited just like the both of us were about the upcoming evening.

5:30 rolled around by the time we had gotten back to our apartment building and changed clothes. I had slipped on some black leggings underneath a short orange shirt that fell almost down to my knees. Will was in some jeans, a green short sleeve shirt with a black jacket thrown over it.

“So where are actually going now. You haven’t told me a single thing about the plans.” I asked as we made the drive further into downtown once we had left Maxon with Sylvie.

Will had one hand on the steering wheel when he glanced over at me in the passenger seat. “If I told you what we were doing it would ruin the surprise.”

“You are terrible at keeping secrets around me.”

He scoffed with a chuckle. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mallory.”

“The first night Maxon and I spent in your apartment you attempted to blame Maxon for eating the last of the Oreo’s even though dogs can’t have chocolate.” I sent him a glare knowing I was right. “When in reality you felt guilty that you did it and fessed up telling me the truth two seconds later.”

He rolled his eyes recalling the moment. “That is completely different. This time I want this to be a surprise so you’ll just have to wait.”

The drive didn’t last too much longer before he parked the car outside of a restaurant I hadn’t been to before. He came around helping me out of the car so we walked inside arms linked with one another. The hostess led us to the nearest booth where we sat across from each other. “The waitress should be with you shortly.”

“I can’t believe you brought me here. I wasn’t expecting you taking me someplace like this. I thought you’d be taking me to Molly’s for drinks and dinner.” I chuckled picking up the menu seeing that they had pretty much everything on there you could think of getting.

Will picked up his own menu looking it over. “We can go to Molly’s another time if you want. But I’d thought since this is our first official date it should be something a little more special.”

“What can I get you two to drink tonight?” The waitress with her brown hair tied up in a bun while carrying a notepad in her hands.

Will and I responded at the same time. “Angry Orchard.” I snorted a laugh out seeing a huge grin get plastered across his face.

“Okay, I’ll be back to take your orders.” The waitress slowly walked away with her eyes lingering on my best friend and I watched her sway her hips back and forth trying to seduce him making me gag at the thought.

Focusing back on the menu I saw that they had a Mac and cheeseburger that sounds pretty good. I knew we were at a somewhat fancy restaurant but they still had it listed on the menu so I should give it a try. “What are you gonna get, Will?”

“I’m not really that picky. We can split something if you wanted to.”

The waitress came back taking out a pen. “What can I get you tonight?”

“I’ll have a Mac and cheeseburger with fries. Oh uh – were gonna share that.” I handed her back the menu and she scribbled something down walking away. She came back a few minutes with two plates in her hands sitting it down in front of me.

Will cut the burger in half and we both silently ate. I take a few more bites before I saw some of the cheese coming out from under the bun and the next thing I felt was Will’s hand brushing against the tip of my nose. “You got something right there, Mal. There you go I’ve got it.”

“I guess you can’t take me anywhere, Halstead.” I chuckled watching him lick the cheese off his thumb.

We finished eating the burger and fries with him paying the bill where I thought we were about to go home for the evening yet that wasn’t accurate. We drove for a few minutes until I recognized the parking lot and building we were pulling up to. “Will, why are we at the hospital?” I asked shifting around in the passenger seat.

“I wanna show you something and don’t worry I’m allowed to take visitors in.” He unbuckled his seatbelt getting out first and I followed him towards the front sliding doors of the hospital emergency room.

We walked into the building going directly to the elevators. He hit the button that said up and then the one that was labeled roof. I kept trying to figure out what he was wanting to show me that was up there. The elevator doors slid open where I started to step out yet he covered my eyes with his hands causing me to laugh. “Will Halstead, what are you doing. If you want me to see whatever is up here, you gotta remove your hands.”

“You’ll see what I want to show you in a second.” He responded slowly walking the both of us forward out of the elevator.

I chuckled holding my hands out feeling my fingers touch the edge of a metal railing. “Don’t you dare let me fall over the edge of this thing.”

“I’d never let that happen. Now open your eyes in three, two, one.” He lowered his hands where I blinked my eyes a couple of times seeing all the building lights at the ground. From how high we were off the ground everything looked so small from here.

I dropped my mouth open twirling around on my feet seeing my best friend flashing me a huge grin on his face. “This is amazing. I’ve never seen the city from this high above before from the time I have been living here.”

“I’m glad you like it, Mallory. My boss pointed out to me that you could see the whole city from up here and maybe share some drinks. Like I told you earlier I really wanted this to be super special cause you’re special to me, Mallory Easton.” Will closed the gap pressing our chests together wrapping his arms around my waist, nuzzling his nose down onto mine.

I giggled nuzzling my nose back with his own, wrapping my arms around his neck. “You sure know how to show a girl a good time. And you’re special to me too.” Leaning up on my toes I captured his lips with mine, threading my right hand into his ginger curls. He leans closer deepening the kiss enjoying the moment.

Unknown to us my phone was vibrating in my purse that he had set down on the table near where we were standing. The caller was someone I wasn’t expecting to hear from since I had returned home.

[christian-perspectives]

Living A Life Of Faith Like Mary Did

The writer of Hebrews said that some people have entertained angels without realizing it! There was no doubt that Mary was standing in front of an angel. At that point Mary began living a life of faith like she had never lived before. Don’t be afraid, Mary,” the angel told her, “for you have found favor with God!  Luke 1:30 Why was she confused and disturbed? Gabriel gave her two compliments. God favored and the Lord was with her. Some versions of the Bible say “highly favored.” When Paul wrote to Timothy he said this. And now the prize awaits me—the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will give me on the day of his return. 2 Timothy 4:8 That happened at the latter end of his life. Mary’s recognition came in the former years of her life. Mary was a young girl who lived by the law and kept herself pure. She had a spiritual dedication, but because of her physical commitment, she was highly favored in heaven. We know that, because of how the verse described her.  God sent the angel Gabriel to Nazareth, a village in Galilee, to a virgin named Mary. She was engaged to be married to a man named Joseph, a descendant of King David. Luke 1:26-27

Details of Mary's Calling

He told her she would give birth to a son and name Him Jesus. Continuing, the angel told Mary how she would conceive the child and explained the child’s life. - You will conceive and give birth to a son, and - you will name him Jesus. - He will be very great and - will be called the Son of the Most High. - The Lord God will give him the throne of his ancestor David. - And he will reign over Israel forever; - his Kingdom will never end!” - the power of the Most High will overshadow you, - the baby to be born will be holy, and - he will be called the Son of God. Luke 1:31-33,35 This is the beginning of the Christmas story. It’s a story most are familiar with. A story about the humanity of our Savior. But how can we apply what happened with Mary to our lives? Even though Mary had some questions, she never questioned or doubted God. That’s where the application has to come in for us. Mary lived and walked by faith. She believed God and trusted Him. Mary responded, “I am the Lord’s servant. May everything you have said about me come true.” And then the angel left her. Luke 1:38

Are You Ready To Start Living a Life of Faith?

No matter where you are in life, old or young, is your goal to be used by God? This brings us to some other questions we should consider. Where are you in your life? Could God send an angel from heaven to give you a special assignment? Mary’s life was exactly where it needed to be for what God wanted her to do. We should also maintain a Christian walk. which makes us available for God's purpose whenever He calls us. Maybe you aren’t young or haven’t lived a pure life. Since God isn’t concerned about your past, then you can start brand new today. Mary's calling came at a young age and she lived the rest of her life for Jesus. Paul the apostle, on the other hand, had an encounter with Jesus later in life. Yet God still used him for great things. So, will God send an angel to speak to you? Maybe, maybe not. He will though give you special assignments as you walk by faith and are obedient to Him. Lord, thank you for sharing with us the obedience of Mary. Just like Mary, we too can become confused and disturbed. Help us to also walk by faith. To help you to start living a life of faith check out this related post. It's from 2 Peter called How To Supplement Your Faith In God. Check out these other posts taken out of Luke chapter 1. - How to Stay Motivated to Read and Investigate God’s Word - The Birth Of John The Baptist - Mary Visited Elizabeth Read the Entire Christmas Story - Live A Unique Life Of Obedience To The Lord - The New Baby Jesus was Born In A Stable - Angels Announced Good News Of Great Joy To The World - The Shepherds' Story Was Remarkably Astonishing - How Can A Star Pinpoint Something On The Earth? - What Valuable Gift Will You Offer To The Lord? Read the full article

[alluringjae]

until dawn - ljn

part I | part II

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

⤑ pairing: jeno x female reader

⤑ word count: 14k

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

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

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

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

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

⤑ leave me some feedback, constructive criticism or hellos!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 To my temporary replacement,

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

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

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

Good luck!

 Park Sanghoon

Night Guard on Leave

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How can I make her come around then?”

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

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

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

“How about the second way?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You can never go wrong with Frank Sinatra!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A win he didn’t feel good about.

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

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

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

Nothing more, nothing less.

Weeks passed, and his attempts continued to be unsuccessful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why were you so cold?

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

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

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

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

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

Boom.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you think I’ll be okay again?”

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

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

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

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

Was he with his friends?

Was he resting well?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where is he, Princess Diana?”

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

“Over there.”

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s absolutely beautiful.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why so?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, my. You must’ve jinxed it.

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

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

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

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

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

Lee Jeno specifically was the view.

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

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

Lee Jeno embodied attractive features; both physical and emotional.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can we start over then?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Respectfully,

(Y/N)

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

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

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

[unfunny-quips]

Shouta had been sized up before. 

Many times during his life, in fact. As a student, as a hero, as a teacher. He’d always met the assessments with the same steady, unflinching gaze of his own. He knew his capabilities, and no amount of side eye or stare down would make him think twice.

That did not mean he was in any way prepared for Midoriya Inko. 

Nezdu’s assistant - soft spoken, unassuming, and sweet - had a way of making her scrutinizing gaze seem gentle as it swept over him. Her sharp eyes taking in every detail, weighing and measuring every fact she gathered. She always had a bright smile and a kind word, a gentle hand to guide when needed. And yet, somehow, she was one of the very, very few people Shouta had ever met that made him nervous.

It shouldn’t have been surprising, he supposed. For all the things he had faced down in his career, he had never faced true, unwavering evil the way she had. The green haired woman had been married to the single most dangerous man in Japan - very possibly the world - and had come out of the experience with her heart of gold intact. 

An impressive enough feat on its own merit. That she had managed to pull one over on that villain - gathering up her sons and a damning amount of information and sweeping them away to safety before All For One had even a chance to understand what was happening - that was terrifying. She’d stormed the police, stared down the Symbol of Peace himself, and forced the Hero Commision themselves to give her a deal placing her family in the highest amount of security available. 

Most terrifying of all, she had impressed Nezdu.

The woman was a force of nature and Shouta was smart enough to know he wouldn’t survive the storm if it’s ire was turned on him.

Midoriya herself, dressed disarmingly in a smart grey suit with a teal blouse, finally brought her gaze to meet his and offered him one of her cheerful grins. It was warm and soft, the kind of thing mothers gave he supposed, not that he had a terrible lot of familiarity with that. The gentleness of the smile did not make him forget the steel of her spine or how she could make that smile turn predatory when the need arose.

“Aizawa-San, it’s lovely to see you today!”  She greeted him, standing from her desk - immaculate and clearly organized to the height of perfection - and rounding it to greet him. 

He should have anticipated the crushing hug she’d pulled him into, but as always her unwavering cheerfulness had sent him off balance and she’d pressed her advantage before he could regain his senses. She did it with all the staff, with the exception of All Might and Nezdu. Aizawa suspected All Might’s great height - even in his skeletal form - prevented her from pulling him in for one of her crushing hugs. Nezdu, for his part, was a fellow apex predator and therefore exempt from such treatment.

He wished, not for the first time, that Zashi had come with him. He sometimes was able to hide behind the other man when Midoriya Inko started hugging. Sometimes. 

Then again, she’d sometimes just sweep the both of them up at once, and Zashi took it as an invitation for a group hug, trapping Shouta entirely.

“Midoriya-San.” He awkwardly greeted when she’d released him. She ignored his discomfort, and moved back towards her desk where a stack of papers waited.

“You’re just in time, I just finished compiling the pre-approved applications for the transfers. Oh!” She paused, turning away from her desk and darting through the door just off her office to the small kitchenette hidden there. He blinked after her, feeling bewildered, and watched as she moved to pull two bentos from the fridge. “I noticed your schedule today didn’t allow for lunch.” She told him, shoving one of the bentos into his hands. “So I thought we could enjoy a meal while we reviewed everything.”

He barely managed not to fumble the container as she dropped it in his hands, whisking off to sit at her desk before he could even think of refusing. He blinked after her, then turned to the bento. The fabric it had been tied into was a soft blue and printed with adorable chibi versions of Hizashi in fully hero gear. It was adorable and mildly terrifying to think she had noticed something in Shouta he thought he’d locked down and hidden away years ago.

“You didn’t have to, I have -” Any protest he might have made died the moment he glanced up and saw the sharp look in her eyes. She was still smiling, but there was a certain gleam of warning in her gaze as she looked at him.

“Protein pouches are not an appropriate substitute for a proper meal.” Midoriya said with the kind of finality that left no room for argument. Not that there would be any. Shouta certainly wasn’t going to be fool enough to pick a fight he knew he couldn’t win - more than once, at least. Especially not when she had that soft, warning expression pointed at him.

Instead he clamped his mouth shut and took the seat across from her, dutifully untying the knot in the colorful bento wrapping at her warning glance. Inside he found onigiri made to look like cats tucked in with a variety of protein rich, healthy foods and some apple slices cut to look like bunnies. 

It was adorable. 

How she managed to find time to make him something so elaborate and cute while balancing care for Izuku and Tenko, the running of the school and keeping up with Nezu while also being constantly vigilant for her villainous estranged husband was beyond him.

“Now there were a number of transfer requests made to get into 1-A” Midoriya began, glancing over the documents on her computer after she had ensured that Shouta was indeed eating the food she’d given him. “About two hundred total. Most of them were sifted out due to grades and overall performance which brought it down to sixty-two. From there we accounted for teacher evaluation to whittle it down to a more reasonable seventeen.”

She pulled up a list, tilting her screen to better show him the names and pictures of seventeen promising first years. Hitoshi, as expected, had made it through the initial two stages of the transfer process. Just two more stages to go.

“Interviews have been scheduled to speak to their classmates, friends and family. Nezdu suspects will have only seven or eight remaining afterward those have been conducted.” Midoriya explained, casting another warning glance at Shouta to ensure he was still eating the lunch she’d prepared for him. He dutifully began digging into a Tsukune. Satisfied, Inko unwrapped her own bento and allowed Shouta to review the short bios of the students as she ate her own lunch.

Each student he reviewed gave the impression of a serious hero course candidate. A class full of good students who hadn’t made the cut initially due to a system biased against their quirks. Nezdu expected nearly ten of them wouldn’t make the interview process, and Shouta didn’t doubt the principal’s estimate, he was rarely wrong about such things. Usually there were only three or four remaining after the interviews, it was an unusually adept group that year it seemed.

After the interviews would be the practicals, followed by the faculty review of those remaining. Despite his personal interest, Nezdu had permitted him to remain on the faculty board to judge the students, confident in Shouta’s ability to remain objective. 

“Oh, I nearly forgot,” Midorya said, breaking him from his thoughts. He watched as she set her lunch to the side and turned her attention to one of her desk drawers. “Izuku gave this to me to pass along to you. He was worried he wouldn’t have the chance otherwise with midterms coming up.” A plain file folder was held out to him, innocent looking.

Shouta squinted at it suspiciously. “He could have brought it in during my office hours.” He said, reaching for it anyway. He’d started calling Midoriya Izuku Problem Child in the first couple days of class, but in no way was the boy actually a troublemaker. Only over eager and overpowered with no sense of self protection. He was a good student, though, and a good kid from everything he’d seen and everything Hitoshi had told him. Not one he’d expect to use a go between for passing notes on to his teachers.

Midoirya Inko gave one of those knowing smiles that put Shouta’s hair on end. “I think he wanted to avoid taking any of your time that could go to other students for something that isn’t related to his own school work.”

Shouta blinked at that, then flipped the folder open and blinked again.

“Are these -?”

“Recommendation letters, yes.” Midoriya said, smile growing bright at Shouta’s bewildered expression. “Hitoshi-kun mentioned they’d help him during his application for the hero course so Izuku got some put together for him. I wrote one of my own, and All Might was similarly happy to make a recommendation based on what he’s seen of Hitoshi’s excellent character.”

[robininthelabyrinth]

Three Gates - on ao3 (for content warnings check Ao3) - on tumblr: pt 1, pt 2, pt 3

- Chapter 4 -

Meng Yao learned all the same things as Nie Mingjue, clearly being groomed to for position as Nie Mingjue’s counselor along with several of Nie Mingjue’s cousins – a great honor, he supposed.

Still, it meant that he knew what a Discussion Conference was, and knew to fear its imminent arrival.

Everything was going so well, after all.

His mother was dressing properly now, settling slowly into acting like a proper lady no matter that she was only a concubine – she’d even started to warm up to Nie Huaisang, taking the small child into her arms and singing to him the way she used to sing to Meng Yao, spoiling him a little out of what Meng Yao suspected might even be guilt at her initial plans for him, finally recognizing what Meng Yao had long ago realized: that he was good luck, not bad. A person, her son, and not merely a tool.  

Best of all, Meng Yao’s little schemes on her behalf seemed to have been rather effective: Lao Nie had grown quite fond of buying Meng Shi little trinkets whenever he returned home from travel, burnished combs from Gusu, golden earrings from Lanling, even a hairpiece adorned with the Yunmeng pearls that Meng Yao knew she’d always envied.  Her courtyard did not go unvisited, and the household begrudgingly unbent enough to let her give orders, the servants and retainers expressing through their service, through their willingness to overlook her origins, their appreciation of how her skillful playing and witty conversation helped ease the worst strains of Lao Nie’s vicious temper.

But now the time had come for the Discussion Conference to be held at Qinghe.

It was one thing when the conferences were held elsewhere, like the one in Yunping that had brought Nie Mingjue into Meng Yao’s life and Lao Nie into Meng Shi’s, because in those situations Meng Shi could be safely left behind at home – but not in Qinghe.

For the first time, Meng Yao almost wished that Lao Nie did not like his mother so much. After all, as a general rule, concubines were not allowed to host strange men, not even on their husband’s behalf, but when the concubine was favored, as Meng Shi was, when there was no first wife available to run the kitchen and do the welcoming, to greet the guests…

For anyone but Meng Shi to do it would be an affront to her dignity, and it would never occur to Lao Nie to be ashamed of her like that, even with her having been a prostitute before. It made perfect sense – and if she were anyone but herself, it would be fine.

A compliment, even; a willingness of Lao Nie’s part to show her off to his peers.

But Meng Yao knew, as Meng Shi knew, that there was a pit waiting for them.

After all, a Discussion Conference would bring in all the leaders of the major and minor sects – there was no way that Jin Guangshan, Sect Leader Jin, would miss it, and he had visited Meng Shi often enough through the years that there was no way he would fail to recognize her.

Asking Lao Nie to ignore that Meng Shi was a prostitute was one thing; men since time immemorial had taken on prostitutes as concubines, even those that had borne sons for other men. But to ask him to ignore that she had borne a son for one of his political rivals, for a man he despised as a cringing coward, for him to be exposed as raising one of what Meng Yao now knew the entire cultivation world snidely called the Jin bastards…

Meng Yao worried.

Nie Mingjue didn’t understand why Meng Yao was so worried, of course, but how could he? He’d never been told the details; Meng Yao would have said, trusting his discretion enough, but Meng Shi had stopped him each time.

And so Nie Mingjue thought it was only nervousness ahead of Meng Yao’s first Conference – he himself had skipped the last two Discussion Conferences, despite being old enough to usually have no choice but to come along, on the excuse that he had to care for Nie Huaisang, now a lively if lazy toddler whose favorite words were “da-ge”, “er-ge”, and “no”.

“If you don’t feel comfortable, you can go back to rest after the welcoming ceremony,” Nie Mingjue assured Meng Yao, earnest and well-meaning as always. “You don’t even have to stay for the banquet if you don’t want. I have to stay since I’m the heir, but that’s not applicable to you. If you’re worried about face, don’t be; you can take Huaisang with you – that’d be a good excuse, no one would question it.”

Meng Yao dredged up a smile for him. “I may do that,” he said, but knew that by that point it would be too late.

If they’d been better people, they would have warned Lao Nie of what to expect – but for all that he seemed to be a good man, he still had that unpredictable, explosive temper that was the Nie family inheritance as much as all the rest of it, and Meng Shi was determined that Meng Yao get as much of a cultivator’s education as possible before they were cast out – and she was sure they’d be cast out, no matter how well things had gone so far.

Meng Yao had argued with her that the few months extra he got weren’t worth the Nie sect’s loss of face, that they were better off telling him in private lest he be taken by surprise, that if he knew he could take measures to protect them both, but she had refused.

(Meng Yao loved his mother, but sometimes he thought all her cunning got in the way of being smart. He’d never thought that before Qinghe, before he realized there were more ways to do things, to move people, than by playing tricks – before he realized that the truth about the tricks you played coming out might cost you everything you had gained and more.)

The worst of it, though, was that he still had hope.

Hope for his own sake – hope for Jin Guangshan, hope that wouldn’t go away no matter how he tried to quash it.

It wasn’t like he was still the naïve child he’d been before, dreaming of a rescue – he’d gotten that! – but only the hope of every fatherless son that the man who sired him was worth something, that his blood was an inheritance he could be proud of.

A swiftly fading hope, given everything he learned from the teachers about the way the cultivation world worked. As a future counselor to a sect leader, he was privy to all the gossip, all the stories, the judgements on personality and proposed solutions on how to deal with them, none of which were very kind in their analysis of Jin Guangshan – and yet.

And yet.

Qinghe Nie had a tense relationship with Lanling Jin, owing both to personality clashes between their sect leaders and historical precedent, for all that they’d recently become closer allies given the aggression of Qishan Wen; Meng Yao knew that there would still inevitably a negative slant to what he learned, ancient prejudice influencing their judgment. And so he still hoped –

It was not a hope that lasted long.

Sect Leader Jin looked impressive from a distance, in his gold robes and golden adornments, but once he drew near the hints of dissipation on his face were obvious to a boy that had grown up in a brothel: the sort of man that liked women and drink too much, the sort that was a good mark because and not in spite of how inconstant he was.

His eyes skimmed over Meng Yao as if he were nothing, despite there being at least three or four points of similarity between them – Meng Yao resembled his mother more, but not entirely – and stopped at Meng Shi. A brief moment of surprise, and then his lips curled up into the disdainful smirk of knowing something that others did not; his eyes flickered over the crowd and this time landed on Meng Yao directly. Their eyes met for a moment that seemed to last forever, but in truth it was only a few heartbeats before Jin Guangshan’s smirk widened and he turned to whisper something into his aide’s ear, and then that man laughed…

Meng Yao felt a rush of shame fill him from head to toe.

It had been a while since he’d felt that familiar feeling, pain and hurt and rage all mixed together. It wasn’t that Qinghe was some paradise that forgot about birth, there were plenty of people who would sneer at a prostitute’s son, who would refuse to deal with him or call him names – fewer, since Lao Nie had started allowing Meng Shi to help run things in his name, letting her act almost as if she was the first wife – but he hadn’t felt shame about it in a while.

At the beginning, when it happened, Lao Nie told him that people would undoubtedly talk cruelly about him all his life but that good conduct would let him ignore them. It wasn’t especially helpful advice, though Nie Mingjue seemed to believe it (they had names for him too, for all that he was the heir, and not all of them appreciative), but perhaps it would be something he’d understand when he was older.

Certainly Nie Mingjue cited the folly of his youth for why he repaid each insult against Meng Yao with a beating, if the offenders were in his generation, or a beating for their sons if they were older. Folly of youth or not, though, Nie Mingjue’s beatings had reduced the incidents more than any of Lao Nie’s words and Meng Yao had been able to hold his head up high and proud.

Not so now.

In a single instant, he was no longer the second young master of Qinghe, Lao Nie’s ward; Jin Guangshan’s haughty look and laughter reduced him back to being nothing more than gutter trash, a prostitute’s mistake, the leavings of a sect master so high above him as to not even bother to redeem the mother of what, to him, was merely yet another son.

He hated it.

For the first time, it occurred to him that it might have been Jin Guangshan himself that sent his mother to Lao Nie’s bed all that time ago – that he’d been playing a nasty joke on a man he hated, a man he knew hated him in turn, by getting him so drunk that he wouldn’t be able to tell that the woman he had taken to bed was Jin Guangshan’s former lover, no matter how obviously she was throwing herself at him. It would make sense, Jin Guangshan and Wen Ruohan each wanting Lao Nie out of the way for their own reasons…

He hated it.

(He hated even more that even after this humiliation he still somehow wanted the man’s approval, wanted to show him that he was wrong about him, wanted to be taken home by him the way he should have been all along, to seen as critical and necessary and important – but how could that ever be, now that he’d already sworn loyalty to another sect?)

The welcome ceremony was quickly poisoned, whispers spreading and a growing frown on Lao Nie’s face – that explosive temper again – and Meng Yao didn’t need the pointed glance from one of the sect deputies to know it was time for him to leave, using Nie Huaisang (who was being perfectly well behaved) as an excuse for why he had to go.

Nie Mingjue gave him an encouraging nod, because of course he did, oblivious as he was to most social undercurrents, and Meng Yao wondered as he left how long it would take for the whispers to reach him – how long before Nie Mingjue knew that Meng Yao and his mother had lied to them, albeit by omission, that they’d deliberately hidden the truth and made them lose face in front of everyone.

He wondered how Nie Mingjue would react to that.

At least Nie Huaisang was too young for any of this, babbling away happily in something half intelligible and half fragmented pieces of thought that made no sense to anyone, clutching at Meng Yao’s hair as if he was considering trying to eat it again the way he had when he was younger.  

In his anxiety, Meng Yao put him down for bed earlier than he would normally, and true to form Nie Huaisang woke up deep into the night crying for a snack. Meng Yao gave him some dried fruit from the stash he always kept in his pocket and promised to get him something more substantive from the kitchens, and Nie Huaisang snuggled contentedly back into bed (Meng Yao’s bed, which was probably his actual goal the entire time, the devious brat).

Even though Nie Huaisang would probably be fast asleep by the time he returned, Meng Yao still turned his feet towards the kitchens. A Nie kept his promises, no matter how small, and at least for the moment he was still a prospective junior disciple of the Nie sect, ward of the Nie sect leader and responsible for upholding his honor – even if he might not be so tomorrow.

The banquet was still going, though presumably it was finally reaching its tail end, and Meng Yao couldn’t help but wander over in that direction on his way to the kitchens to see if people were still talking about it. About him, him and his mother…

A figure stumbled out of the main hall into the unlit corridors, and two years of familiarity allowed Meng Yao to identify Nie Mingjue at once even before he staggered back against the wall for support, moonlight shining on his face. His eyes were strangely vacant, his mouth slack – was he drunk?

It seemed bizarre to even think it. For all that Qinghe Nie spoke big about how picking up your saber was the step into adulthood, no one would ever allow a boy of Nie Mingjue’s age to drink enough wine to become intoxicated, much less to such a degree. He shouldn’t have even had wine served to his place setting, and previous experiments had revealed that stealing a single cup wasn’t enough to cause any effect on Nie Mingjue’s top-rate constitution. So why..?

Meng Yao hesitated, wondering if he should go and help him. Yesterday he would have done it without thinking, but that had been before the events of the day…

A shadow covered the face of the moon, casting Nie Mingjue’s face into darkness.

No, he was wrong – it was only that there was a man in the hallway, standing now between Nie Mingjue and the open window, and he stepped forward to catch Nie Mingjue in his arms, helping him stand once more.

Someone else had gotten there first, it seemed, and Meng Yao was about to leave when the man smiled, a glint of teeth, and suddenly he recognized him, for all that he’d only seen him briefly years before.

Wen Ruohan.

Sect Leader Wen, the only thing that could make Jin Guangshan and Lao Nie forget their enmity for each other – a poisonous snake, a terrifying tyrant, a pestilence on the cultivation world that constantly tested Qinghe Nie’s borders and tried to lure away its affiliated sects, all the while smiling and denying that it was doing any such thing.

The man who had once chased Nie Mingjue into hiding himself in a brothel, and thereby changed Meng Yao’s life forever.

Meng Yao did not feel especially grateful to him for it. The scene before him suddenly took on new light: Nie Mingjue was no longer merely drunk, leaning on a friendly hand for support and making a nuisance of himself as he did – he was frowning almost as if he were having trouble realizing what was happening, trying to push Wen Ruohan’s hands away but with fingers too weak to put up much resistance, and Wen Ruohan smiling all the while. Meng Yao knew that the brothel had had drugs like that, dizzying intoxicants that sapped the body’s power and the mind’s stability; the owners used them on vulnerable women who tried to resist their offers, knowing that after they had lost their virtue once it would be easier to coax them into giving it away again.

If he’s disgraced, your brother is the heir, something deep inside him whispered, sounding almost like his mother. Lao Nie can’t cast out the mother of his heir, not the way he could a concubine and her shu son, and it’s not as if you have to do anything. You were already in bed, and no one would ever know that you saw anything –

He’d know, though. Wen Ruohan would probably be able to figure it out, too, with his high cultivation, and he could use it against him in the future.

So what? Even if you did see something, what could they expect you to do? It’s not as if you can do anything. Who do you think you are, some whore’s trash son that doesn’t even have a saber yet? You’d never be able to stop the mighty Sect Leader Wen who strikes fear even into the heart of the likes of Lao Nie. Better to just let it happen…

Nie Mingjue made a small sound, a tiny whimper that was barely audible and soon muffled by the fingers Wen Ruohan put on his tongue; the older man had pressed him against the wall, a leg pushed in between Nie Mingjue’s thighs, Nie Mingjue’s weak attempts to push him away translating as little more than gentle tugs on his robes. Using his body to keep Nie Mingjue pinned in place, Wen Ruohan’s free hand slipped down –

Meng Yao gritted his teeth and went away.

The kitchens still had lanterns lit, and skewers to carry a flame from one place to another – it hurt Meng Yao deeply to set fire to a store of rice, knowing it would have been enough to feed him and his mother for an entire season without going hungry, but it didn’t hurt as much as the thought of a future in which all those slandering tongues treated Nie Mingjue as if he’d never been anything better than Wen Ruohan’s whore.

“Fire!” he shouted once it has spread enough to be a threat. “Fire!”

One of the kitchen servants rushed in and saw, immediately joining his cry to Meng Yao’s, and soon enough everyone was rushing around frantically, more and more people drawn over by the noise. In the frenzy, Meng Yao slipped out and with a strong pinch made his eyes fill with tears.

“Da-ge!” he cried, throwing himself into Nie Mingjue’s arms the second he saw him – Wen Ruohan would never have feared discovery by a single person, easily discredited, but when all the sect leaders in the main hall had started coming over to see what was happening he had had no choice but to step away. “Da-ge, I went to get some snacks for Huaisang and there was a fire!”

Even drugged and assaulted, Nie Mingjue’s first instinct was to comfort; he awkwardly patted Meng Yao’s shoulders and back, slurring out an “it’s okay, Meng Yao” that barely sounded anything like it.

Meng Yao pulled back away from him and allowed disgust to twist his face, all the disgust and disdain and hatred that had been churning in his gut the entire evening – how dare they all judge him, those sect leaders who’d never known a day of hardship in their lives, how dare they say things about his mother, as if they knew anything about her simply because of the role she was forced to play…

“Meng Yao, is it?” Wen Ruohan said, and Meng Yao widened his eyes in a burst of panic as if he hadn’t realized anyone was there, hadn’t intended for the feelings on his face to be seen by anyone.

“Sect Leader Wen!” he said. “Forgive me, I didn’t see you there – please forgive my shixiong, I don’t know how he’s managed to get this drunk, to shame himself like this…”

“Think nothing of it. He’s still young, after all,” Wen Ruohan said generously, as if he had nothing to do with it. “You’re – the ward, yes? The concubine’s son?”

Meng Yao nodded, putting his best version of a coward’s smile on his face – the one that was gentle, the way he preferred to be, but with shades of weakness that brought out disdain and condescension in stronger men. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t bother you any longer, Sect Leader,” he said sweetly, making it obvious that he was trying to pander. “I know you’re far too busy to be dealing with the stupidity of youth…”

Stupid, rather than foolish – meaning he thought that this reflected a judgment on Nie Mingjue’s character, rather than a momentary lapse. A cruel thing for a shidi to say, and to say that to a stranger, to Qinghe’s rival, was positively unpolitic; it would absolutely be a loss of face if it was called out.

But when such obvious weakness was displayed before a predator, it could also be seen as something else: an opportunity.

Wen Ruohan looked intrigued, as Meng Yao had hoped he would be – what would-be conqueror didn’t like the idea of recruiting a spy in another sect’s camp, especially one so highly placed? Especially one placed so near to something he wanted.

With a glance at the crowd that was growing rather than shrinking, he made his decision.

“Take him back to bed,” he told Meng Yao, who nodded eagerly. “And come see me tomorrow – you seem like a bright boy.”

“Of course!” Meng Yao chirped, looking as if he were overwhelmed by the extremity of Wen Ruohan’s favor, as if he could be bought with some pretty words and a little bit of resentment. He’d go, too, the next morning when the Unclean Realm was bustling with servants and a single shout could bring them running; he’d play up his young age, greedily gobble up the treats Wen Ruohan was sure to set out, and complain about how no one respected him, how everyone sneered at him, Jin Guangshan’s bastard – he’d whisper his fears about how Lao Nie would react – he’d puff himself up when Wen Ruohan inevitably flattered him.

It’d be easy enough to convince Wen Ruohan that he was weak, conniving, and greedy, the sort of person could be easily bought. The sort of person who would be happy to help a stranger sneak into his brother’s bed just to make himself feel better about being born the son of a whore.

If Wen Ruohan believed that that was who he was, what he was like, he would try to use Meng Yao to achieve his aims next time, and that would in turn mean that Meng Yao would be properly position next time to stop him – by accident, of course, or while trying to help him avoid notice, or whatever. Men like Wen Ruohan never really paid attention to their pawns after the initial coaxing period: once they considered someone to be theirs, once they’d judged someone too afraid to ever betray them, they got lazy and put down their wariness.

Meng Yao had met plenty such people in the brothel.

He carted Nie Mingjue off to bed – his bed, not Nie Mingjue’s, to reduce the danger – and Nie Huaisang (who was woken up by all the fuss) didn’t even notice the absence of the snack he’d been promised when it meant that he could sleep the rest of the night between his two brothers, his favorite place in the world to be.

He slept, and Nie Mingjue slept, and on the cold edge of his side of the bed, Meng Yao spent the rest of the night planning how to convince Lao Nie to let him and his mother stay. He had to stay, because if he left, if he left and Nie Mingjue had no one by his side, no one but Nie Huaisang who was too young –

Meng Yao didn’t know how long his da-ge’s carefree generosity could last in this cruel world, but he was determined to find out.

In the morning, as he’d hoped and feared, Nie Mingjue woke with no memory of the events of the night before.

It was good, because it meant that Meng Yao didn’t have to explain; bad, because who knew whether Wen Ruohan had tried a similar trick before with more success. The thought left a bitter taste in Meng Yao’s mouth, and it spilled from his mouth like poison when Nie Mingjue tried to ask him how he was feeling – “Don’t you know what they’re saying about me? All of them – my father.”

Nie Mingjue fell silent. “Meng Yao…”

“What? Can you stop their tongues? No one can change the facts of their birth, and yet I’m the one who keeps having to pay for it.”

“Meng Yao,” Nie Mingjue said, and his eyes were hurting. Good – let him hurt, let him feel one iota of what Meng Yao had always suffered, let him – “If I could make your father love you, I would.”

Meng Yao’s breath caught in his throat.

“If I could force him to honor you,” Nie Mingjue continued, voice solemn. “I would send you with him gladly, although I would miss you very much. I know it doesn’t mean anything just for me to say it, but…I would.”

It did, though. It meant quite a lot to know that the hurt in Nie Mingjue’s eyes had been for him, not from him. To know that he had heard all the stories, all the whispers, and in the end his only priority had been to think of how Meng Yao might feel.

To be angry, because Meng Yao wasn’t getting something he though Meng Yao should.

No, Meng Yao decided – no matter who he had to fight, whether Wen Ruohan or his own mother, he would find a way to stay by Nie Mingjue’s side.

(That was when he realized that he’d messed up his mother’s instructions even more than he’d meant, because he was never supposed to be the one that fell in love.)

[fandomsilhouette]

they’ve got a bad reputation (they’ll get a standing ovation)

The spotlight clicks on, floods the stage until the shadows are sent scampering away, every flaw and every fear in sharp contrast for the audience to feast upon; but what horrors lurk where the darkness prowls, trapped at the edges of the script like handcuffs around the actor? May life mirror art at the best of times, the worst of times. 

Happy @felinettenovember, y’all! We’re back to terrible o’clock writing times with @musicfren, who is collaborating with me on this fic-turned-mechanism-through-which-to-preach-on-the-spot-Hamlet-analysis. He’ll be posting the second part on his account tomorrow, during which the bulk of my meta nonsense is going to come through. Are you following him yet? @emzurl spoiled this whole story with their art and @dumpsdoods simply spoils me with theirs. 

Part 1 below. Part 2 upcoming.

“Alright, take ten, my dudes! We’ll go from Act III, Scene 1 after you get some snacks and chill.” 

Marinette lets out an amused laugh as she thumbs through her copy of the script, ignoring the throng of hungry students pushing past her, desperate for this grueling 5 hour rehearsal to end. Brevity may be the soul of wit, but certainly not of this play. Nino makes a good director, she thinkst: loud, relentlessly positive, able to carry the sagging energy of an entire unwilling highschool production on his shoulders.

But alas, poor Nino is fighting a losing battle. Everyone knows that the point of this play is the obligatory report they will all have to write for their literature class at the end of the week. Almost no one here can act, and Marinette’s arms are beginning to grow tired from carrying up the entire play. With scarcely a week left it looks like most people are planning to coast the rest of the way to a clean C+. The part of Hamlet still has not been cast.

Akuma attacks have pushed back the discussions they were meant to have on the play, and Bustier couldn’t cancel the major assignment for the unit; instead, she had told them to analyze the play through the role of their choice after embodying it for the few weeks it took to rehearse and perform the production. Their in-class discussions have been condensed into a take-home paper on top of the already obligatory theatre performance and pretty much everyone knows that Bustier would be lenient on them just for that. And Nino knows they know, and Marinette is starting to suspect that he is itching to “chill” like he keeps telling them to. 

Marinette chews on the corner of her pencil, running a finger over the veritable bloodbath of neat pink notes she’s crammed into the margins of every page. She’s on in the next scene, and she wants to make sure she’s got all the nuances of the character, her character, exactly as she plans to bring her to life. Looking over the script, Marinette starts to regret not typing the notes to begin with: her entire essay is definitely already fully composed. Maybe Max will consider building her an application that can scan the document and transpose it to a word processor as editable text… 

“Give me your hand, if we be friends, and Robin shall restore amends.” 

Marinette looks up to see Felix quoting Shakespeare, trying very hard to look inconspicuous in his black stage-hand clothes, wheeling a stand of fake swords almost as tall as he was. She watches with some amusement as he struggles to set it upright, and makes absolutely no move to help him. 

“I wasn’t expecting to see you on stage any time this week,” she says, sticking her tongue out and being far cuter than it had any right to be. Felix, sweating, scrambles for a riposte. 

“I hadn’t expected you out of the home ec room at all. Shouldn’t you be half-drowned in fabric or something?” 

She sends him a quizzical look. He wonders if the akuma attacks have scrambled her memory. “Because...you’ve got costumes to work on? As the play’s costume designer?” 

“Oh, I’m not doing costumes this year, actually.” Marinette laughs awkwardly. “I’m not even sure what I would write about if I were.” 

Felix stares at her. The sword he was carrying slid out of his grasp with a dull clang.

“...what are you writing about as a stagehand?” 

Felix decides to pretend the last few moments were a fever dream and focus on answering this one very reasonable question. “I’m looking at the blocking and the prop placement and the lighting and how it impacts the effect of the character portrayal on the audience and what information manages to get conveyed to the audience.” 

Marinette offers a suitably impressed ooh at this. “How far have you gotten with it?” 

“Darling, we don’t even have a Hamlet. The titular character. I’ve done nothing.” Felix offers the most deadpan look he can muster and startles at her giggle. “What, how far have you gotten?!”

Marinette flashes her script at him, more notes than dialogue at this point. 

“You are possibly the only person in the class thinking anything even remotely deep about this play. What is all that for?!” 

“Hopefully for a handwritten notes to editable text conversion app.” 

Felix only narrowly avoids gaping. What?! “...is that what’s scrawled on every corner of that script you’re clutching?” He grins crookedly at her, and her traitorous heart skips a beat. 

“...oh! no, um, those are my notes. For… my essay? I’ve written out the character analyses into where the text supports my arguments and… um… yeah.” She flushes with the realization that 1) that was completely out of context for him because 2) he cannot, in fact, read her mind. 

“...Marinette, for what do you possibly need notes?” 

“...to play my character?” 

“Oh, wow, are you playing a guy? Impressive, tiny girl.” He rakes his gaze down her body and Marinette is flushed for a whole new reason now. She pushes to her feet and doesn’t bother to care about the swords she knocks over. 

“I’m not, actually.” 

“Why?! Who is there to play among the female characters? Marinette, I took you as someone who plays characters of worth.”

She looks up at him, eyes wide with dangerous innocence “Are female characters not valuable?” 

“I-- no, that’s not what I meant and you know it! Shakespeare is historical, and male-centric, and writes women who do little more than parrot the views of the men around them if they get any dialogue at all. There’s no substance there! Who are you possibly going to play, Gertrude? Ophelia?!?” Felix’s tone makes it very clear what he thinks of the only two options she has available to her. 

Marinette sweeps past him coolly, her hair whipping against his cheek. “I am playing Ophelia, actually.”

Stumbling, Felix turns and gives her a wry grin. “Oh darn, I’m sorry for your loss.” He makes a valiant effort at replicating her stuck out tongue, not that Marinette is looking. It’s for the best: it’s not nearly as cute on him. 

“Excuse you?” Marinette halts in her tracks, shadowed amongst the heavy curtains of stageside. Her voice echoes hauntingly around the empty theatre. 

“...c’mon. Ophelia does less than Gertrude. She even has fewer lines!”

With great restraint, Marinette manages to do nothing more than turn to face Felix, trembling with repressed rage. “Does less? Ophelia is the only person in this play who does anything at all that isn’t driven by a madman’s plot! Ophelia is the only person in this play who can pull Hamlet out of insanity, even if for little more than a moment.” 

Frustrated, Felix tosses the nearest item at her and growls when she catches it neatly. It’s a victory when she stalks off across the stage to the opposite wing, gathering her notes and settling herself neatly in a prim fury. She’s wrong, she’s wrong, she’s wrong. He whirls around and starts rearranging everything she knocked over, grumbling under his breath. 

“Ophelia is the only character in that play who makes zero choices of her own. Even her death was a result of her tripping into a lake.”

There’s a crashing sound, and Felix spins back around to see Marinette bolt upright, tempestuous in her temper. Felix may have gotten a bit too loud with that last statement.

“How can you say that? That’s the most significant choice she makes in the whole play!”

Felix can feel the irritation rising, hot and ugly in his chest. Why is she being so stubborn? Marinette makes a gesture at him, quick and angry from the other side of the room. Felix squints and tilts his head, struggling to what she was doing from across the stage. Then all at once it hits him.

“Do… do you bite your thumb at me?!” He splutters in indignant incoherency, his grip tightening on whatever he’s holding until the plastic grooves bite into his skin. 

“I do bite my thumb at thee, sir.” 

Felix steps onto stage, glaring. Marinette matches him step for step, glare for angry glare. Nino gasps, cowers, and then grabs his camera.

The class, milling around aimlessly as their ten minutes ticked to an end, comes to a collective halt. Nino sheppards them out of the way of the camera’s shot. They flock without protest to the edges of the theatre, terrified to watch this trainwreck unfold, terrified they’ll miss even a second of it. The die has been cast. Who now the price of his dear blood doth owe?

Nino can only hope that the set backgrounds manage to come out of this intact.

[timextoxhajima]

HOSTIS, Chapter XI: Et Invisibilia Filum, An Invisible String

Previous Chapter (X: Medium Duorum)

Member: Lee Hyunjae (tbz)

Genre (by chapter): drama, comedy, fluff

Category: Short Novel/Long Series

“nice to know that you’re beginning to enjoy this.”

you spend most of the day afterwards either making rounds or sitting at your cubicle in the research department working on whatever doctor kim assigned you to do. 

it was a little painful and agonising to have him talk to you and lee hyunjae so casually, given what happened earlier in the day, but doctor kim seemed like he couldn’t care less -- or rather... he just didn’t bother as long as the two of you did whatever you needed to do.

eric was sitting about two tables to your left, and lee hyunjae was sitting at a cubicle that was behind yours, so thank god you wouldn’t need to see him unless you stood up and turned around. 

the screen of the computer was sucking you into its void of virtual reality of words, numbers and medical terms, until mother nature called to you from outside the building.

your entire body shrinks and crouches in itself upon the loud clap, and the lightning flashes throughout the floor through the offices that lined the perimeter of the area. 

the words on the screen lose your attention despite your eyes still glued to it. there was nothing on the document that was being processed in your head while the rumble dies down, the lightning still flashing every few seconds 

your fingers begin to dig into your ear canals when the rain starts to slap against the windows of the offices. the sound of mother nature was so intimidating, even with all the layers and doors of glass between you and the outside world. 

you start to wonder about the ruthlessness of mother nature. 

you start to think of mrs kang. 

light flashes through the space again and you duck into your seat like someone just hurled a ball at you.

the lack of light and anything in your vision tells you that your lids were tightly shut, elbows resting on the table top as you wait for your heart to calm down from the rampant slamming against the insides of your rib cage. 

you could hear your breath in your own head but the shuffling around the space doesn’t die down. 

after you were confident the sky was done playing its own definition of music, your eyes open and you free your ears again, the scattered conversations and clacking of the keyboards coming back into your wariness. 

you were just about to return to your work again when your chair gets pulled backwards, and your neck whips a little too fast to glare at the person you saw in your computer screen.

“stop being such a wuss,” he says. your eyes roll away and he releases your chair. “i’ve decided to be nice today, on the account that it’s raining... you’ll meet me in the basement and i’ll let you sit in my car. your rounds today are later than mine, so i’ll be in the basement by the time you’re done.”

lee hyunjae doesn’t wait for you to respond before looking away like he was searching for someone else. he turns on his heels and walks away with his clipboard, and the clock between the two lifts which he stops in front of reminds you that he was going off for one of his rounds. 

“fuck’s wrong with him...” his back disappears into the lift and he looks at you with eyes that made your stomach flip. 

you shudder in disbelief, looking away just as the lift doors closed. 

the rain starts to let up in the hours of the evening, though the sun was really nowhere in sight. doctor kim had dragged eric to some research archive facility by the time you were needed for your rounds, so you begin to count the days you should have eric’s number when you didn’t.

your rounds concluded with a patient refusing to eat his dinner, and he said he’d eat only if you stayed to feed him, which you happily obliged. 

the nurses around were offering to take over you, knowing that you were done for the day. but being around your patients and creating a real, personal level of connection with them was different from simply being their doctor. 

maybe this was why your parents were never available, because all they wanted to do was to be a good doctor, not just a doctor. 

the happiness and satisfaction that overwhelmed you while he told you stories about his life while you fed him was so rewarding. there was nothing in the world that you would’ve loved more than to sit here and connect with another person. 

not just because you were his doctor, not because he was your patient.

the nurse hands you his medication and among the pills was one that made him drowsy, so it wasn’t long before his lids started to get heavy and you watched him drift off to sleep while he bid good bye to you. 

the time strikes you on the way down to the basement, and you were already prepared to go home on your own. there was no way lee hyunjae would’ve waited for you for nearly an hour.

but you still chose to try your hand at surprising yourself, so when the lift doors open to see him waiting for the lift, your eyes widen in pleasant wonder.

strangely enough, worry was written all over his face in his features, and his eyes looked like the ones you imagined he would have if he was talking to mrs kang. the phone was planted to his ear while someone speaks to him on the other end, and his eyes slowly tear away from yours to return his attention back to the conversation. 

“alright, i understand. i haven’t left the building, so give me a few minutes, i’ll be right there.”

doctor duties.

the phone gets slid back into his pocket and his chin tilts upwards, free hand patting down his dress shirt with his knuckles whitening around the handle of his briefcase. 

you were expecting him to berate you for being an hour late, given that stupid arrogant chin tilt he always did before he pissed you off.

yet for the first time in ten years, he speaks to you like he wasn’t going to shove a knife through your stomach. 

“i’m sorry, i have to head back up. mr jung-- my patient -- might have suffered a stroke, and the nurses need me to take a look at him because they couldn’t tell what induced it.”

the loss of words become oddly overwhelming, yet somewhat fascinating, when you had trouble processing his tone. 

not only that; he looked like a whole other person. 

“uh-- no, it’s fine,” you shook your head and stepped back into the lift, gesturing for him to come in. “whatever the patient needs.”

the lift panel lights up when you hit the floor where the wards he was in charge of was located, and you could feel his attention pressed into your side profile as he steps in.

there was a peculiar atmosphere that hung between the two of you throughout the entire lift ride, but when the door opens, he makes such large steps that made it difficult for you to catch up with. he didn’t even bother clocking back in, only heading straight for the ward where the patient of concern was in. 

you watch the edge of his briefcase disappear into the ward while you struggle to tail him, and the sight of him dropping it at the foot of the bed to pick up the clipboard with the patient records made you feel like you’ve just stepped into an alternate universe. 

one where lee hyunjae wasn’t your other ares; one where he wasn’t your lucifer.

you stay outside when you realise none of the patients in this ward were yours, and you observe him walking around the bed to the iv drip, talking to the patient, and the nurse who came around from behind you when she noticed him inside. 

the nodding, the small polite smiles, the frowns and the stress on his face make you wonder if you’ve ever looked like that, even if it wasn’t for him to see. watching him hold the patient’s arm while the nurse hands him gloves and a mask for him to carry out whatever procedures he needed to do made you feel immense guilt. 

for a second, you wished he wasn’t your enemy.

your phone chimes in the back of your jeans, and you open it to see that your father had dropped you a text.

dad: are you at home now? your mother and i are in the area, wanted to check if you’re home for us to drop in on you. 

the distant talking inside the ward earns your attention again, and this time he was sitting on a chair by the side of the bed, diligently writing down notes while both the nurse and the patient talk to him. the dim lighting of the ward (due to some of the patients already sleeping) was barely enough for you to make out the look of concern and professionalism on his face. 

but beyond that, you could see little strands of tiredness and spent energy, yet he still kept that little comforting smile on his face.

you wonder what it would’ve been like if the two of you didn’t just spend a decade at each other’s throat.

you: sorry dad, i got caught up in work today, i won’t be home early. 

dad: it’s alright! completely understandable. give me a call once you’re back home, we miss you.

a weak smile spreads on your lips before you shove it back into your pocket, and a passing pair of nurses walk past you talking about dinner. 

right, dinner.

you inhale a large breath as you pull out your phone again, and your finger hits the application button even before your mind tells you to. 

hyunjae spends easily forty five minutes talking to and checking on his patient, even the nurse was sent away by him to have dinner when he found out she hadn’t eaten. 

your rear was planted to the stool in the pantry of that floor, two boxes of ordered food charged to your card sitting on the table behind you. you could still hear the little howls of wind that were seeping in through the cracks of the pantry window from the aftermath of the thunderstorm, but this espresso machine seemed to warrant your attention more. 

never in your life have you felt so defeated by a stupid machine; you’ve pressed every single button on the damn device and yet the thing doesn’t come alive. 

you weren’t sure how long you’ve been angrily staring at it, but you were snapped back to reality when the pantry door beeps open. 

he was carrying his briefcase and the concern in his eyes was slowly wearing away, so you could guess he’s probably fixed whatever happened with his patient. 

“if i didn’t know any better, i’d think you were going to murder that coffee machine.”

your lips get sucked between your teeth as you watch him head over to the table and pull the boxes open. setting his briefcase on the floor, he sits down on the stool opposite where you would be sitting, and he picks up his phone instead of eating without you at the table. 

the machine takes your attention away again when he starts talking to his mother over the phone; most of the time he was just convincing her he’s eaten and he’s back at home. 

shoving your fingerpads into all the buttons on the machine, you shake your head while listening to him lie to his mother over the phone.

then again, you did it too.

“alright, yeah... i got it... okay, bye mom, i’ll see you soon.”

you hear a small thud where his phone would be placed on the table, and the silence only makes you more agitated with the coffee machine.

“that thing’s broken by the way. it doesn’t work.”

a frown slaps itself on your face when you turn around to glare at him in utter irony. 

“so-- you just sat there and let me fiddle with this thing, which doesn’t work, for the entire duration you were here?”

his laughter ripples through the air when he gets off the stool and strides to you, his hands in his pockets and one of your hands still on the machine. an exasperated sigh leaves your lips when you turn around to turn off the main switch connected to the machine, and his footsteps begin to near you.

“it was entertaining to watch you try to figure out something that doesn’t work.”

a bemused scoff runs off your tongue just as you turn around, only to find him barely a foot away from you. your pupils dart away when you notice his hands coming out of his pockets.

this was all too familiar but why does it feel different?

one of his fingers finds the belt loop on the back of your jeans and he pushes you forward. your palms find his chest for support upon the sudden movement, but your eyes flutter shut when kisses you for the third time that day. 

it lasted for barely five seconds, but the warmth from him flowing into you was eerily comforting, so much that you were beginning to feel scared.

he pulls away and scans your eyes for a moment, but it’s not lee hyunjae if he doesn’t open his mouth to say something that completely ruins the magic of the moment.

“nice to know that you’re beginning to enjoy this.”

“ugh,” you huff and push him off yourself, your attention gravitating back to the food. “you’re unbelievable.”

you were worried you were going to get used to it, or that you were probably never going to get used to it; having hyunjae sitting directly opposite you, eating his food that you ordered, and telling you everything about the patient he was just attending to.

two weeks ago, you would’ve sworn that he wouldn’t even want to be in the same room as you, since you didn’t either. 

it was becoming a little complex to understand the relationship that was developing between the two of you. 

sure, his antic quality isn’t going to vanish completely; that was what most of your rivalry with him was based off: constant bullying and vulgarity-hurling fueled by resentment and hatred.

then again, it could just be because the both of you had nothing to compete for anymore, besides a promotion of course.

hyunjae keeps to his word and lets you follow him to the car, the entire time spent in silence because the both of you were spent from the day. 

the window by the passengers’ seat was slightly rolled down, the scent of rain in puddles on the asphalt road made you feel like you were in another country. 

it was your favourite part of a thunderstorm. 

the amber lights from the street lamps were being reflected off the puddles, every now and then a ripple appearing from dust or a lone drop of water dripping from a tree. 

the cool air was gently whizzing past your face as the car drove along the road, and the sound of the tires against the gravel was oddly intriguing. 

you were surprised that lee hyunjae hasn’t said a word since he started driving, only occasionally hearing a shuffle when he fiddles with the cover of the steering wheel. 

the car pulls up right outside your residence and a dog barks somewhere in the distance, your eyes fixating on the little droplets still rolling off the leaves of the plants in your backyard. 

“you were awfully quiet throughout the ride.”

the fresh scent of the rain and nature gets sucked into your lungs, comforted that he didn’t ruin the moment again. 

“i’ve learnt to keep my mouth shut whenever i want some peace and quiet.”

you pause.

“maybe you should try that too,” you turn your head to face him, and he smiles with a scoff, one hand still on the steering wheel. he turns off the engine and gets out of the car, and your eyes trail along his movements, waiting for him to drag you out of the vehicle.

he gets the door of the passenger’s seat open, and he goes ahead to ruin the moment. 

“okay now, get out of my car.”

a snort coughs its way up your nose and you shake your head, grabbing all your belongings and stepping out of the car. 

“you really know how to make the most of a--”

another kiss.

one arm finds your waist and the other rests lightly on your chin to help angle your jaw. the gentle, chilly breeze runs shivers down your spine despite being in a coat, and butterflies start to emerge in your gut, the same way they did the first time you had a conversation with eric.

hyunjae’s eyes open to meet yours after he slowly pulls away, the air rushing between the two of you creating some sickening sense of longing in your blood. 

his lips get sucked between his teeth as he gradually loosens his hold around you, and something flashes in his eyes before he completely lets you go. 

“stop getting your lipstick on me.”

“... wha-- jesus!” your lips fall apart in complete disbelief and bewilderment, his hand reaching to the door behind you and slamming it shut against the door. “how is it my fault tha--”

“shut up and go home,” he gives you a gentle push towards your residence and he turns on his heels. 

you were blinking so profusely, you would’ve thought you were having a seizure while you watched him walk back round to the drivers’ seat.

he gets it open and has one foot into the vehicle when he pauses, looks up, and raises his voice loud enough for you to hear. 

“i’ll come pick you up tomorrow morning.”

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

A/N: can i just say im so fucking uwu for this two rn... but im gna be honest... i’m #teameric... this shit hurted... big time hurted...

Chapter XII: Terminus

[suitofvibraniumarmor]

Headstrong

Part Two

Summary: Their first training session goes well ... but ends on an awkward note.  Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC Word Count: 1840 Warnings: Nudity (in words only, ha). A/N: Taglist is open, you can be added to the one for this fic or Buckvember simply by sending an ask. Happy Reading!

PS: This GIF is not technically applicable to this chapter, but it seemed a good excuse for Seb tummy porn. You’re welcome. 

Series Masterlist

They started the very next day with an early morning run. Bucky hadn’t run in a while, and it was nice to have Haven with him to push him a little further than he thought he could go. 

“You’ve stayed in good shape for being out for a year,” he congratulated before downing half the contents of a water bottle back at the gym behind Haven’s house. 

She nodded. “I didn’t want to lose momentum. I got my pro bid right before the — right before I got hurt. It wasn’t something I was going to pass up or miss out on for too long.”

“I like your determination. Finish off that water, then let’s do some drills.”

Haven nodded and did as she was told. She went for her wraps on the shelf and started to do them herself, but Bucky intervened. 

“Lemme help,” he offered. 

“I’ve got it,” she shrugged. 

Bucky shrugged, too. They were going to need time to get to know each other and be comfortable with each other, he understood that. While she finished wrapping, he tossed off the gloves he had been wearing while they ran, and the hoodie he’d had on, too. A couple of minutes later, Haven approached him next to a large punching bag. She nodded toward his left arm. 

“Quite the prosthetic, coach.”

Bucky cleared his throat and nodded but gave no more acknowledgment to her comment. “All right. You ready?”

She took her stance — a little rusty but muscle memory had her mostly in position. Bucky helped her adjust, apologizing when the cool metal of his prosthetic arm sent her into a small shiver. He got back behind the bag and nodded. 

“We’ll throw combos first,” Bucky informed her. “Pretty basic today, I’ve got to catch up on what you can do, so I know how to coach you.”

Haven nodded her understanding and listened carefully to the combos he called out, executing them with the same intensity she would in a fight. Bucky was impressed. She was in the middleweight class, he knew, but he had no doubts she could hold her own in fights with girls twice her size. 

After combos, they got into the ring. Bucky gave her some footwork warm-ups to do while he wrapped his own hands and pulled on some gloves. Maybe he didn’t need it for his left hand, but with equipment like that, he figured it was better to be safe than sorry. 

After a few hours of training, Bucky could see that she was waning. She didn’t seem the type to speak up when she needed to stop, so Bucky took them through a cool-down, then dismissed her for the day. 

“Good session, Coach. Thanks.”

Bucky nodded. “You did good today, I’m impressed. No reason why we can’t push off from where you are and make your first pro round a championship.”

“You think so?” Her eyes lit up like Bucky had yet to see. 

“Yeah, absolutely.” He hung up his gloves and worked the wraps off of his hands. “I’m going to go grab some lunch, do you wanna join?”

Haven stopped abruptly. “Oh, actually, I — I have plans. Thanks, though. I’m sure you’ve got your own place, but there’s showers back here, if you want to clean up before you head out.”

She rushed for the back to the locker room, leaving Bucky to finishing packing up the equipment that had used to practice that day. He wondered if he had done something wrong to make her … what? Intimidated of him? Dislike him a little? Could be that it had nothing to do with Bucky. 

Maybe it’s the arm, his mind offered. Bucky shook his head, forcing away the negativity. He’d had a prosthetic for a while now, and since getting this latest one, he had grown accustomed to people’s reactions to the strange technology. Hell, even he’d had to get used to the newest arm when the doctors first fitted him with it. Wasn’t a bad thing if Haven needed to get used to it, too, he supposed. She would come around.

Picking up his bag, Bucky fished his phone out and called Steve to see if his friend was available to meet for lunch. 

“Yeah, I’ve got time. Meet you at Wanda’s in an hour?”

“Perfect, see you there.”

Disconnecting the call, he pushed into the locker room and shoved the phone in his bag. About the time he looked up was about the time Haven looked up from drying her legs and shrieked. 

“What the hell?! Get out!” she exclaimed, scrambling to cover the good bits with her towel and retreating behind a tiled wall. “What are you doing in here?!”

Bucky had already slapped his hand over his eyes and was stumbling against the wall, fumbling for the door handle so he could leave. “I’m so sorry, I just — I was on the phone, I didn't think about knocking or anything.”

“There’s a men’s room!” 

“Yeah, wasn’t paying attention,” he called out, finally finding the door handle and liberating himself from an extremely embarrassing situation. 

His shower would just have to wait — not a chance he was staying on the property a second longer than he needed today. 

Bucky dropped into a booth at Wanda’s cafe and asked for a cup of black coffee. The redhead smirked. 

“Rough day in the gym, Buck?” 

“Rough day in the locker room,” he sighed. “Steve’s joining me, better bring a water for him.”

Wanda nodded and went to retrieve the drinks. Having skipped the shower, Bucky arrived early enough before Steve, he was on to a second cup of coffee before his friend arrived. 

“I’ve got exactly fifty-three minutes,” Steve informed when he dropped into the booth. He called out to the counter, “I’ll have the usual, Wan. And a cuppa.”

“Me too,” Bucky added. “Big case?”

Steve nodded, taking a long drink from his water. “Yeah, we’re on a hot lead. I’m waiting for SWAT to get back to me so I know if I can go question my guy.”

Bucky smirked. “Well, don’t let me take too much of your time, Detective.”

“Ha,” Steve snorted, “please take my time. Especially if it involves you out in public. How’d the first session go?”

Bucky licked his lips. “She pushed me during the run, which was good, though. Training today was mostly figuring out where she’s at after being out for a while from any serious training.”

Steve narrowed his eyes. “And what else?”

Bucky looked around to see who was within hearing distance, then leaned forward on the table. “I was on the phone with you, I wasn’t paying attention. Walked in on her naked in the ladies’ locker room.”

Steve choked on the first sip of his coffee. He recovered after a moment, dabbing at the coffee now staining his navy blue tie. “I’m sorry — naked? Your first day coaching and you walked in on her naked?”

“I did,” Bucky confirmed, blowing out a deep breath. “After that, I rushed out. I’ll be lucky I don’t get a call tonight not to come back tomorrow.”

“Oh, Buck,” Steve laughed, apologizing for his reaction, “I’m sorry, I just — naked. Wow. What a way to start out a new job. Was it worth the mistake?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Is that really important?”

“You tell me,” Steve smirked. 

“Yes, it was worth the mistake,” Bucky sighed, leaning back to give Wanda space to deliver their food. “She’s — I mean, she’s fit as it is, she’s a boxer. But yeah, she’s gorgeous.”

“Who’s gorgeous?” Wanda asked. 

Steve motioned to Bucky. “This new girl he’s coaching. Bucky accidentally walked in on her naked after their practice today.”

Wanda put a hand over her mouth, but it didn’t help much to stifle her giggles. “Try not to picture that every time you go back. Have you told Charlotte or Nat about this yet?”

“C’mon, let’s not spread the word,” Bucky groaned. “It was an honest mistake!”

But Wanda’s fingers were already tapping out a message on her phone. Steve was still smirking, even as he shoved bites of salad in his mouth. Bucky had a half-sandwich and a bowl of soup in front of him, but he suddenly felt not too hungry. 

After she dressed, Haven waited at the locker room door to see if she heard any sounds in the gym. 

“I’m coming out now. I have clothes on,” she called. 

As it turned out, Bucky wasn’t in the gym, and his car was gone from the driveway. Haven tossed her dirty clothes in the hamper in the laundry room, then went to start a load before putting together a lunch of leftovers from the night before. 

She ate alone at the kitchen table, contemplating what had happened and trying to figure a way to get around it when they saw each other again. She was still thinking it over when Wes came in from a training session with one of his clients. 

“You’re deep in thought,” her brother noted, drinking milk from the jug in the fridge. 

“You’re an animal,” she returned. “So … something happened with Coach Barnes today. It has the potential to make things real awkward, so I’m trying to decide if I’m going to face it head on or act like it never happened.”

Wes put the milk back but leaned on the open refrigerator door. “Well, tell me what happened, I’ll help you decide what to do about it.”

Haven thought about it. “No, I think this one might be better for me to handle on my own.”

“Just tell me, punk.”

She shook her head. “Nah, it’s too weird.”

Wes let the refrigerator door close before going to the table and pressing his cold hand to the back of his sister’s neck. Haven yelped and tried to wrestle away from him, but even once his hand warmed up, he was tickling her until she begged for mercy. 

“I was showering after practice, in the locker room, and he was — I don’t know how the mistake was made, but he walked into the wrong locker room.” She left it at that, hoping Wes could fill in the blanks. 

“Oh,” he frowned, still putting the pieces together. “Oh. He saw everything, didn’t he?”

Haven sat back down and put her head in her hands. “Yep, pretty sure. About a hundred percent sure it wasn’t on purpose, but … yeah. Awkward. So, so, so awkward.”

Wes did his best to hold back his laughter, but it was mostly to no avail. “Oh, sis. I don’t even — yeah, I don’t think that’s something you can just pass off like it didn’t happen. You’ve got to talk to him about it. After he saw all your goods, I don’t think your strictly-professional approach is going to go far.”

“Was afraid of that,” she sighed. “I’ll call him later on, see if he has time to meet. Might as well deal with it before practice tomorrow.”

Buckvember: @peace-love-hobbitness​ @disastersoldierbucky​ @connie326​ @rebekahdawkins​ @wonder-cole​ @shynara51​

Headstrong: @disastersoldierbucky​ @ashleymalfoy​ @amanda-teaches​ @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​ @tanelle83​ @tellmewhatyouwill​ @capandbuckylvr​ @pinknerdpanda​ @mizzzpink @ntlmundy​ @siggy85​ @itsallyscorner​ @m-blasterrr​

[managingmymuse]

employment

for writer's month day 2: coffeeshop AU

(original work, time-traveler universe)

No one in my family had ever really had a job.

We worked, of course. Running the farm was an entire summer's worth of back-breaking labor. Our portion of the homestead, too, required a lot of work to keep and maintain. When we were away, in another town or another century, we took on odd jobs to keep ourselves fed. In the pre-industrial age, my mother and sister and I took on laundry and mending, while my brother and my father hired themselves out as hands. Sometimes we'd stay for a week, other times for a whole season, but no matter where or when we were, there was always work to be found.

But that was the pre-industrial age. I was beginning to discover that the twentieth century was a lot harder to work around.

"Do you have your social security card?" the woman behind the counter asked.

I was standing in the pleasantly blank hallways of a large department store. The carpet was a dingy peach, and the walls had a magic-eye-like pattern to them. The faint sounds of classical music drifted through the air, piped in from a speaker that I hadn't yet been able to locate.

I shifted uneasily on my feet. "My what?"

"Your social security card," she said. "It's a blue card about this big." She held up her thumb and forefingers about three inches apart. "It's a government document."

"I don't think I have one," I said slowly.

The woman behind the counter popped her gum. "Sure you do. Everyone has one. It's probably at your parents' house."

"Right," I said, already thinking of how I could lay my hands on someone else's. "Can I call them and get back to you?"

"You sure can." The woman blew another bubble and removed the clipboard containing my half filled out job application. "You don't need to start today, do you?"

"I can't start without the card?" I asked. "Really?"

"Yeah," she said. She gave me a sympathetic smile. "It's corporate policy. We get in big trouble if we hire you without it. But don't worry, we've got tons of available positions. Come back with it by next week, and we'll start you on the floor. Okay?"

I pressed my hands flat against the counter, struggling to take deep breaths. "I don't think I'm going to be able to get the card that fast," I said. "My parents... they live out of state."

"They haven't lost it, have they?"

I shrugged. "I have no idea."

The woman stared at me over the counter. Her jaw worked furiously, but her eyes held sympathy. "You can always write to the records office where you were born if your mom can't find it," she said. "Though that's going to take longer."

"I really need this job," I said. "I can't... I don't know if I can wait a week.

The woman tilted her head to the side. I don't know if she sensed my desperation or not, but she must have felt bad for me, because she pressed up on her toes, looking out into the empty hall behind me before rummaging around on the counter for a piece of paper.

"Okay," she said. "You didn't hear this from me, but I've got a friend in town. Her name's Sherri. She owns a little place down by the university. Java and Jams. You ever heard of it?"

I shook my head, and the woman wrote down an address. "Sherri's got a bit of a bleeding heart. You tell her you've got no papers, and she'll probably take you on."

"You think she has a job for me?"

"Fall term is set to start in another week," the woman said. "I know she's got a job from you." She smiled brightly. "Tell her Karen sent you."

"Karen," I said.

She pointed to her name tag and smiled again. "That's right. You take care now, dear. And if you do get your card and you still want to a job, well, give me a call."

She extended a card to me along with the paper she'd written the address on.

"I... thank you," I said.

"No trouble," she said.

Behind me, the sound of footsteps heralded the arrival of someone else. Karen straightened up, smoothing her vest down over her shirt. "Well, miss, if that will be all?"

I glanced at the corner, and a man, heavy-set and wearing a thick tie, came into view. Karen's manager, if the squinty look in his eye and his name badge was to believed. "Thanks for your help," I said, before disappearing down the crowded aisles of the store.

It was a forty minute walk from the mall to the university district in the center of town. On an ordinary day, I would have hated it. But today it gave me some time to think.

Some time to think about how screwed I was, that is. I'd been in the 1985 for three days now, and already my supply of emergency rations was running dry. I hadn't planned to come here, so I didn't have any kind of modern currency on my person. Before my jump, I'd been in pre-colonial America, and the things the Iroquois had traded-- corn and squash and tobacco-- wouldn't get me anything here.

(Also, they were precious difficult to carry; say what you will about the modern capitalist economy, but it did make emergency funds easy to carry around).

I'd lucked into a place to stay, an apartment that was, blessedly, vacant. But if the calendar on the wall was to be believed, the professors that lived there would be coming back, and soon. I had to find a new place to stay, and enough money to buy it with. Not to mention a little extra to buy some food to eat.

My stomach rumbled even as I thought about it, and the sound tempted me to just jump home. To find a nice, shadowy alleyway, cross my fingers, and jump. But even as my stomach begged me to do it, my mind pulled back on the idea.

It wasn't that I didn't have the juice for it; after three days' rest, I had the stamina to jump back five hundred years at least, let alone a paltry one hundred. But the last time I'd jumped, Micah had found me. Not after an hour or a day or a week, but immediately. Within moments of my arrival.

I supposed I was lucky he hadn't turned up here. That I hadn't turned a corner and run smack into him. But even though I was in the clear-- for now-- I couldn't help but worry that by jumping to the Homestead, I was endangering everyone within it. Turning our only safe haven into a trap we couldn't escape.

A shiver rolled down my spine, even in the afternoon spine. I'd jumped with with Micah literally on top of me that last time. His knee had held me down while his hands wrapped around my neck. If I'd been anyone else-- my brother, or my mother, even -- I'd be dead now. I would have been too drained from the last jump to jump away.

But I was a freak among freaks. Damaged almost too far for repair. I screamed and kicked and fought, and somehow I drew in just enough air to pull it down into my middle. To speak the words to send me away.

I hadn't been terribly concerned with where at the time. I certainly hadn't been thinking of 1985. But apparently my subconscious was ready for hair bands and spandex, because here I was.

It wasn't a bad place to be, I told myself, as I turned onto the coffee shop's street. It could have been worse.

The coffee shop was tucked away in a Tudor-style building that looked more like a home than a shop. Though it stood on a relatively busy street, it had a front garden fit for the suburbs. Wildflowers grew in great plumes on either side of the walk. A sign hanging from a wooden post in the yard read "Java and Jams."

I sighed and started for the door.

At nearly four o'clock in the afternoon, the place was almost empty. A man sat behind a bistro table in a corner reading a book and nursing a cup of coffee. A woman with frizzy red hair in a bun swept the floor in the middle of the room.

She looked up when I entered and set the broom down. "Need an afternoon pick me up?" she asked. "Today's special is the Colombian blend."

I wrinkled my nose. "No, no thank you. Are you Sherri?"

She wiped her hands on her apron, red and splattered with what looked like foam. "Who's asking?"

"I'm Allison," I said, putting a hand over her chest. "Karen sent me. From the mall."

Sherri tilted her head to the side, and the resemblance between the women instantly resolved itself. Sisters. They were sisters. "You looking for a job?"

"If you're hiring," I said. "I didn't see a sign."

"I don't advertise much," Sherri said. She sighed and moved behind the counter. "What was wrong with the mall? Don't you want to work in that over air-conditioned tundra?"

I risked a smile and stepped closer. "Karen said she would hire me if I came back with my social security card," I said. "But I... I don't think I have one."

Sherri's eyes flashed wide in alarm. She glanced over my shoulder at the man in the corner. He was still deeply absorbed in his book. "Well then. Have you ever worked in a coffee shop before?"

I suspected that doling out cups to hungry miners in California didn't count. "I've done some food service before with my family," I said. "But not coffee."

"Well." Sherri sucked on her teeth, looking me up and down. She must have decided something, because she nodded once, fiercely. "You seem a good sort. I can give you a try. We can fit in two weeks of training before the poets come back."

"The poets?" I asked.

Sherri's lips spread into a broad, genuine smile. "That's who mostly comes in here, in the first weeks of term. It's poets and novelists, starving and otherwise. They come to discuss literature and human misery. It's all quite dramatic."

I gaped at her, but the sparkle didn't leave Sherri's eyes. "We'll have college students later in the term, too," she said. "They don't usually show up until they've got midterms, though. Are you at the university?"

I shook my head. "Not yet."

Sherri looked at me, thoughtfully. "Well then. Two week trial. Cash okay? We'll do under the table unless you've got a bank."

A sigh of relief bubbled up from my stomach. "Cash is great," I said. "When can I start?"

Sherri untied her apron, pulled it off her neck, and offered it to me. "Right now. There's only an hour until we close up-- summer hours and all that-- but I think I can run you through the basics. Does that work?"

I tied the apron behind my back. "That works," I said. "That works really well."

[une-pomm3]

Spirk Ficlet - Migraine

I’ve been battling a rather nasty migraine the last couple days. To make myself feel better, I wrote this bit of fluff.

- - -

Captain Kirk was an intimidating man when he chose to be.

He had a certain ability to command a room simply by existing in it; when he spoke, people would listen. He exuded power and confidence when he stood at attention on the bridge of his ship. While there had always been those that considered him too young to be at the head of such a ship as the Enterprise, he demanded respect merely with his presence and received it without question from his crew. It was easy to be loyal to such a man. 

There was also the quiet brilliance of his mind. He knew his ship inside and out. He could keep up the Chief Engineer's mad brilliance with ease, understanding both the theory and application required to maintain - and upgrade - the ship’s engines. He was an avid history fan, Spock had seen the row of Terran books in his quarters and knew them to well read. Not to mention his tactical mind, which resulted in the frustrating way he played chess, often winning against Spock. Not to mention his penchant for calculations - he was nearly as fast by hand as Chekov in his head.

He was incredibly handsome, and not shy about using this to his advantage - a tool to wield for as long as it was available to him. Spock thought of this, perhaps too often, and came to the conclusion that the Captain would likely always be beautiful, especially when older rather than despite it. 

In a word, Captain James T. Kirk was impressive. 

And yet… it was difficult to marry that to the man that was currently curled up in a ball under his regulation blankets in bed. 

"Captain," Spock approached with caution - the room was dark, only the glow from the computer terminal to light his way. "The doctor has sent me to check on you. Is there anything you require?" 

He received a rather pitiful whine in response. Such a noise may have startled him had the doctor not warned him beforehand. 

"Have you had enough water?" He reached the bedside table and found a glass upon it and held it up to see the volume remaining - it was mostly full. He sucked his teeth and sat on the edge of the bed. "Captain, you will not aid in your recovery if you do not drink enough fluids." 

Another whine. 

"The doctor shared with me your history with migraines," Spock said to the lump, "on average your pain persists for 6.53 hours. As this one began approximately 4.25 hours ago, you can look forward to your discomfort easing in 2.28 hours - provided, of course, that you remain properly hydrated." 

The lump writhed on the bed and a head emerged, hair standing shockingly on end and eyes squinting in what may have been an approximation of a scowl. "Do you always talk so much?" The Captain's voice was low and gravelly; Spock held out the cup of water and waited for him to struggle into a sitting position. 

The squinty scowl remained. 

"Drink," Spock insisted and Jim finally took the glass and pressed it to his lips. "All of it." Spock gently tipped the bottom of the cup until he was satisfied that all of its contents were being drained. 

"You're bossy," the Captain mused. 

"Then you are not going to like what else I've been tasked with."

Jim looked back to him - still squinting - and ran a hand through his hair, disheveling it further, which Spock would have considered an impossibility. 

"The good doctor has asked that I ensure you eat something." Spock rose from the side of the bed and crossed the room to retrieve a tray he had put down upon his initial entry. 

"I don't feel like eating anything," Jim said, his voice drawn out and pitched into an impressive whimper. 

"I anticipated this," He replied, returning to the Captain's side, sitting again and balancing the tray on his knees. "I have brought for you a selection of soft, nutrient-rich foods that will be easy to digest in your weakened state." Jim attempted an indignant noise that only succeeded in sounding rather pitiful and he flopped back down into the bed, disappearing beneath the blankets once more. "You forget that I am a very patient man," Spock told him, "and I have nothing else with which to fill my time until I am satisfied that you have eaten sufficiently." 

"Lies!" said the mound of blankets, "you are a very busy man and should go do those busy things in your lab or on the Bridge and leave me to wither away in my misery." 

"I am glad to see that you are feeling well enough to speak so much." Spock waited for exactly one minute before he prodded the blankets with a finger, eliciting a rather satisfying noise of indignation. "Captain." 

The head reappeared, complete with the squint-scowl and he sat up once again. 

"Alright," he resigned, "what have you brought?" 

"Sliced tolik fruit, grapefruit segments and honeycomb, t'mirak pudding, and ulan soup." 

"How very Vulcan of you," Jim leaned over Spock's shoulder to peer at the tray before reaching a shaking hand to take the bowl of soup. 

"It is what I know best," Spock quickly produced a napkin and reached to steady the soup in Jim's hands before it sloshed onto the bed. 

"You are a rather convincing mother hen," Jim said, "I bet you treat all the captains like this."

"Hardly," Spock passed him a slice of tolik fruit and did not look away until he was certain it would make it past Jim's lips, "Captain Pike would never behave this way." Jim snorted and Spock heard himself continue before he could stop it, "besides, he had Number One to see to such needs." 

"Yeah, but she was in lo- oh." 

Spock felt the tips of his ears colour and he shifted on the bed, rearranging the contents on the tray. Quietly, he said, "eat your ulan soup."

"Yes, sir," Spock's gaze flicked to the Captain in surprise. The tone was entirely too smug for someone as ill as they claimed to be. He raised an eyebrow and Jim's gaze was steady, practically glittering in the low light as he brought the spoon to his lips. He slurped indecently and Spock resisted the temptation to roll his eyes.

"You know," Jim said conversationally around his spoon, "I don't let all the officers see me like this." 

"Indeed," Spock passed him another slice of fruit to save himself from listening to more slurping, "I am aware, as I am the one to assign access to your quarters outside of extracurricular activities." As was his duty as First Officer to oversee the staff on board the ship. He supposed Nurse Chapel could have seen to the Captain - he likely would not have been nearly as petulant, but he also considered that she would not have stayed to ensure his complete cooperation, either. That, and Doctor McCoy has insisted that he be the one to see Jim… oh.

The doctor was entirely too meddlesome for his own good.  

"I think you are quite well enough to feed yourself, Captain," Spock rose, carefully placing the tray of food over Jim’s lap. 

"Please stay," Jim said quietly, reaching for Spock, but hesitated millimetres before his fingertips touched Spock's wrist. He stared at that space and did not respond. "I promise to behave if you do," it was a whisper and Spock looked up to search his face, eyebrow raising. 

"It is considered unwise to make promises you are unable to keep."

"Then stay because of that. Besides," Jim smiled, "you are not very busy, you told me yourself! Unless, of course, you lied." The mock-scandal in his tone was indicative that he was beginning to feel better. If that was the case, Spock had no real reason to remain. 

He sat back down on the edge of the bed.

[lucky-bucky-boy]

Mistletoe

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Peter put off introducing you to the team for a long time, but Tony insists the holiday party at the compound is the perfect way for the team to meet the only best friend they haven’t yet.

Word Count: 2385

Warnings: Christmas themed, more fluff

Tags: @lokilvrr

I do not own these characters. Do NOT repost my fics anywhere without my written permission.

"If you ask me one more time if I'm sure I want to go, I promise I will rip my hair out and you'll have to deal with looking at me bald every day," you huffed out a laugh with only a slight playful annoyance tinging the words as you spoke. Delicate application of mascara, mouth parted ever so slightly to give the steady hand needed to not mess up the extravagant glittery eyeshadow that you'd never admit took three tutorials, four tries, and over an hour to do properly.

"O-okay," Peter's anxious voice flowed through your phone perched on the edge of your vanity. "I'll be there in 15, Mr.Stark had Happy pick me up. Bye, (Y/N/N)."

One final layer of ruby red lipstick to compliment the dress that MJ had helped you select; a beautiful a-line knee length dress, intricate lace dancing across the chest and flowing down each arm, stopping just before your wrists, all in a rich christmasy red. Fixing a small golden necklace around your neck to match the gold of the friendship bracelet Peter had given you, MJ and Ned before everyone went off to college, you slipped on a pair of gold glittery flats to complete the look.

As if on queue there was a small series of knocks against your bedroom door. Grabbing the small black clutch you'd thrown a few things in, you opened the door, smiling at Peter before taking in his appearance.

Being an Avenger had done him well, a new sense of maturity vibrating in his aura. His loose curls had been groomed and shaped up, no doubt a request from Tony for this party. His shoulders more broad, a hint of stubble prickling his chin and jaw, all complemented by the sleek black tux, with a bright red tie that just happened to match your dress perfectly. Michelle's doing no doubt.

"O- uh - you look- you look beautiful," Peter stumbled over the words as he tried his damndest to not stare at any one part too long. There was a faint blush on his pale skin. "Are you ready?" He asked, "Mr.Stark isn't happy that you're my only friend he hasn't met."

A soft giggle played at your lips as you turned your lights off and shit your door, "Sure am, Parker."

*

"Holy shit, there's even little sodas in here - PETER YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND THEY'RE TINY," a small squeal left your lips as you pulled out one of the tiny cans from the cooler in the limo, Happy sending Peter and amused look through the rear view mirror.

Peter chuckled softly, "I tried telling Mr.Stark we didn't need the limo but he insisted."

"Okay, but seriously, if Tony wasn't already married I'd be chasing after that if it meant I got things like this every day," there was an obvious joking tone to your words but it still stung Peter deep in the gut. Happy sent Peter another look when he caught that hurt puppy look on Peter's face, which he responded with by closing the partition.

You pouted at Peter, "Hey, that was mean," you scolded softly.

"He kept wiggling his eyebrows at me it was weird," Peter whined in defense, causing a string of laughter to fall from you.

"Where's the party at?" You asked, settling back into the seat next to Peter, pressing the small can of soda to your lips, the warm, dim light casting a fairytale like glow over you and Peter was damn sure Tony had changed the lights.

"It's at the compound," Peter answered, pulling his phone out to check the time, anything to keep from looking at you too long. "Mr.Stark said he wanted something more intimate this year. It's a few of his friends, everyone had a plus one, I originally wasn't going to go but he wanted to meet you and thought this would be a good time to do so."

"Ooh wait, so I also get to meet the team?" You asked, feeling the car pull into what you could only assume was the compound.

Peter nodded as Happy opened the door and Peter grabbed your clutch before getting out, holding his hand out to help you. A chorus of thank you's and nice to meet you's flowed between the group before Peter steered your attention to the pristinely white building that was brightly lit. Hundreds of thousands of little crystal lights strung on every ledge, every tree, every bush and branch available. Little white deer silhouettes lined the walkway and it truly looked like a winter wonderland thanks to the dusting of snow still stuck from that morning.

The bustling party could be heard even outside, laughter, chatter, and music vibrating the architecture. Peter opened the door for you, the sounds doubling in volume as you stepped into what felt like a scene out of a Hallmark movie. Intricate decorations and lace, ribbon, and likes strewn across the ceilings, railing and archways. A pop-up bar and serving table off to the side, the home to extravagant drinks and foods you had only ever dreamed of getting the chance to taste. The intimate lighting doubled with the warmth that the endless Christmas music sent through you made your heartbeat a little faster when you remember who you came here with.

Peter's arm wrapped around your waist, leading you towards the back of the room that sat huge round tables. At the center table sat a few of the team members; Natasha with her feet propped up on Sam's lap, Sam who was bickering with Bucky over what sounded like an argument over the best something and poor Steve stuck in the middle of his two friends squabbling.

Peter cleared his throat to get their attention, all eyes turning to him and then immediately falling in you. An anxious, almost embarrassed kind of warmth spread through you as they all analyzed you, Bucky breaking into a huge grin. "Hey Peter, is this the dame you haven't shut up about?"

Sam sighed exasperatedly, "Barnes, for the last time, we don't call girls dames anymore."

"I think it's rather endearing," Nat added, eyes never leaving you, watching as you looked up at Peter with a small look of shock on your face, lips slightly parted. Bucky had undoubtedly caught you off guard with the confession, and Peter was blushing even darker than earlier.

"Peter Benjamin Parker," you said, voice in a heightened, almost comical tone of disbelief, "Are you talking about me again? Do I need to bring out the pictures from summer camp?"

His eyes went as big as saucers, "No no no no, they asked about my friends and I told then about you that's all," his words were rushed, quick to speak in hopes of deterring your threat.

"Sure, if you call gu- ouch, why'd you hit me," Bucky grumbled towards Steve who was sending him a warning look and suddenly everyone at the table caught on. You knew nothing.

Peter watched as your mouth opened to speak but quickly cut you off when he heard Tony talking from the upstairs balcony. His gaze moved upwards, seeing a much less crowded, but still just as decorated area and he grabbed your hand, leading you to the steps. "C'mon. Let's go see Mr.Stark."

Tony was talking to a business friend, a young girl who you could only assume was his daughter hugging tightly to his leg with one arm and a feeding herself a cookie with another. Her eyes moved from the man in front of her to Peter and you and she gasped, dropping the cookie and running over to Peter, who knelt down in preparation to hug her.

She flung her small body into Peter's chest who hugged her and stood, moving to hold her on his hip. "Peter!!!!!! Why'd did you leave? Daddy's being boring. I wanna play with the bobots- Peter who's this she's pretty - and OUR DRESSES MATCH!"

She squealed, causing Peter to laugh softly.

You looked down at yourself and then over at her, taking in the details of her dress and realizing she was wearing a smaller version of your dress. You giggled softly, watching as Peter sat her down so she could twirl to show it off. You knelt down to be eye level with her, "Well, that just means we both have good tastes because we both look very pretty, don't we?" You asked her.

She nodded her head furiously. "Yes! Daddy wanted me to wear gold but I liked this one better. I'm Morgan."

"Hi, Morgan. My name is (Y/N), I'm Peter's friend. We've been friends since we you as little as you."

She gasped softly, "Does that mean you know how to prank him? He never falls for my pranks," she crossed her arms over her chest and pouted some, only causing you to laugh more.

"Of course I know how to prank him," you looked up at Peter to realize that both Tony and him were watching the two of you, the other man from earlier gone. After giving Morgan a small smile you stood, reaching out to shake Tony's hand.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr.Stark." You beamed a bright smile at him, causing Tony to smirk softly and send Peter a look of approval.

"The pleasure is all mine, sweetheart. And please, call me Tony. I'm surprised you haven't freaked out yet, Peter's mentioned a few times that you're a big fan of - well everyone." He said, hand motioning to wave in the direction of where the team was.

You nodded, feeling Peter move back to your side and seeing Morgan find her place at Tony's leg again. "I'm a huge fan, and it is taking everything not to freak. But what kind of first impression would that be," you joked softly.

Tony chuckled, picking Morgan up. "Very true. I'll leave you two to enjoy to party. I think I need to get this stinker another cookie before mommy comes and yells at me." Morgan cheered as Tony moved to take her back downstairs, leaving Peter and you alone.

Leaning over the balcony you used the height to your advantage, observing the party and every one of its inhabitants. Watched people dance, drink too much champagne, kiss and coo at one another. It was almost surreal, the wealth, the confidence, the comfort of the bubbling atmosphere. The feeling of someone watching you pulled you from your thoughts, turning to look at Peter who was watching you intently.

"What is it?" You asked, almost amused, "something wrong with my makeup?"

Peter shook his head, hands fidgeting with the end of his jacket, eyes darting around anxiously before looking back at you. "N-no, actually. The complete opposite. I can't get over how beautiful you look tonight." He bit his lip, and when your eyebrow crooked upwards and a small smirk toyed at your lips he got worried, more anxious than before, "Not that you don't always look beautiful but you just look especially beautiful tonight."

The smile and light laugh that left your tempting lips made him feel he was baptized in cold water, drowning him and filling him with life all at once. "You overthink everything, Peter," intertwining your fingers with his, you pulled him towards the steps. "I want a drink and I want you to show me around."

A glass of champagne and too many horderves later, you found yourselves in the compounds kitchen searching for refuge from the stimulation of the party. The two of you sat on the kitchen island, reminiscing and laughing, catching up for the first time in what felt like an eternity since the start of the semester.

"So, this is pretty much where you live now? No more loud Queens streets to lull you to sleep at night?"

Peter shrugged, pulling off his suit jacket and moving to roll the cuffs of his button down shirt up. "Well, I kinda bounce between here and Aunt May's. Mr. Stark has me taking classes online so I can still work with him and not over do myse-"

A loud gasp pulled your attention to the doorway, Morgan was standing there, holding Tony's hand and pointing at the two of you. "Daddy! Look! They're under the mistletoe!"

Tony chuckled softly, "They sure are kiddo, and what does that mean?"

"They have to kiss!" She exclaimed.

Looking up you saw the bundle of green and read tied around the light fixture and couldn't help but shake your head and laugh in disbelief. "If I didn't know any better I'd believe everyone was in on something," you said and watch as Tony held his hands up in defense and backed out of the kitchen with Morgan in tow.

"Y-yeah," Peter swallowed loudly, causing you to look over at him. "We- we don't actually have to kiss if you don't want to." His voice was soft and nothing more than a mumble and he fiddled with the rolled up sleeves.

"What makes you think I don't want to kiss you, Pete?" You asked, smiling softly, a sudden wave of anxiety wiping over you. "Do you think I'd try this hard for anyone else?" You motioned to yourself.

"You could have come in sweatpants and a tank top and I still would've thought you looked amazing." Warmth spread across you, slightly embarrassed and unsure of what to say, "...Can I kiss you?" He asked.

A timid nod was enough of an answer as he moved to cup you cheeks with his hands, thumbs rubbing over the apples of your cheeks as he took a moment to admire every detail of your face. "I've loved you since we were kids," he admitted before pressing his lips to yours, slow and almost unsure.

The moment he felt your hands on his chest, tugging at his shirt to pull him closer, his actions had more confidence, lips soft and speaking a language you didn't know you knew, filling a void you didn't know you had. You pulled back a little, both of you smiling big and giddy.

"Merry Christmas to me," he mumbled.

"Merry Christmas to us." You corrected, pressing another small kiss to his lips. "And I love you too."

[vannahfanfics]

All the World’s Sadness

Category: Hurt and Comfort

Fandom: Atlantis- The Lost Empire

Characters: Kida, Milo

Hi, guys! Another piece I worked on for applying to the Shepherd’s Journal Zine that I thought I’d share :) One more to go and I’ll have enough for the application TT.TT 

Kida hated the throne room. Kida was the queen of Atlantis; she ought to take honor in the throne that symbolized her royal blood and spiritual purity. The throne room was the culmination of generations of rulers, principles, laws, religion, and dignity; it wasn’t pompous or pretentious, but instead embodied the deep connection to the natural and spiritual worlds vital to the Atlantean culture. 

Behind the crescent-shaped, blanket-draped, wooden throne sat a massive stone depiction of an Atlantean soldier. The head had been detached from the body, representing not only the self-sacrifice of defenders of their homeland and the dangers of a violent, militaristic state. Beyond the throne sprawled a still, clear pond smothered in floating lilies and inlaid with the stepping stones that patterned a swirling spiritual symbol. Buried underground lay the cavern where her ancestors had filled Kida to the brim with the power to face the oncoming catastrophe of the erupting volcano. However, now it again remained hidden, contained beneath that quiet little pond. Vegetation sprouted around the room’s edges, filling the air with a freshness, and moss coated the ornate Greek-style columns supporting the roof of the building. 

Indeed, by all rights, it was a magnificent and regal throne room… But Kida still hated it, at least on that day- the anniversary of her dear father’s death.  

Kida squirmed uncomfortable against the blankets; their once soft, embracing cloth now felt like coarse sandpaper against her bare back, making the skin burn and itch. She tried to keep her twitching writhes to a minimum, not wishing to arouse her husband’s suspicions. Milo sat casually in the newly-constructed twin to the ancient throne, attending to the last remaining bit of subjects who’d come to counsel with the pair of royals. 

Kida’s attention had been nonexistent since she had awoken that morning; everyone noticed her lapse in clear guidance and focus, especially Milo. He’d naturally assumed the more dominant role that day, falling seamlessly into the caring and patient benefactor of the common people. One could almost call it an insult, the way he nonchalantly perched on the edge of the throne, elbows resting on his knees in a relaxed posture. Yet, no one would question him for the rapt attention he afforded each and every person, and the understanding smiles that graced his boyish bespectacled face. Despite everything, a small smile appeared on Kida’s lips as she observed him speaking calmly with a disgruntled fisherman who was commissioning for repairs to the docks. 

“Your request sounds very reasonable,” Milo announced as he straightened up and rolled his shoulders. “We’ll get right on that. I want a list of contractors drawn up sometime tomorrow, at the earliest available opportunity,” he noted to the royal scribe, who took a record of all the day’s decisions for the appropriate administrative staff to handle later. The fisherman jumped forward to shake Milo’s hand ecstatically, and the brunette just grinned and returned the Atlantean’s zeal with equal fervor. It was magical, how effortlessly Milo had earned the trust and respect of her people. Well, thinking back, perhaps it really wasn’t magical at all. 

“Unnnnnnngh!” Milo exclaimed as soon as the fisherman, the last caller of the day, exited the spacious room. The man stretched his arms above his head, prompting a series of pops from his stiff joints. “Whew! What a day,” he sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck. Kida groaned, the ache in her bones and burning skin growing unbearable, and Milo side-eyed her worriedly. “Kida? Are you all right?” The queen refrained from answering in favor of glancing around the room. The staff had slipped into the royal compound’s bowels, leaving the husband and wife to do as they pleased. Now that her royal obligations had reached their limit, Kida eagerly jumped off from the throne, stumbling over her feet in the process and making her ankle bracelets clang together. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! What’s all this?” Milo cried as she angrily ripped the clinging blankets from her person. As he hopped up to grab her lightly by the upper arms, she immediately melted into his lean frame, pouting dourly. Apparently, Milo hadn’t realized what day it was; nonetheless, he enveloped her in a crushing embrace, squishing her body against his. As Kida nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck, Milo pressed his cheek tightly against the side of her head. He then patiently waited for her to voice her melancholy. 

“I don’t want to be in here,” she huffed bluntly. She felt Milo’s facial muscles contract as his eyebrows shot up to the roots of his hair. She said that, but now Kida didn’t want to move; comfort and warmth poured off Milo’s form, and she basked in them readily. She drank in his scent like parchment and rain and the faint hint of earth, feeling calm slowly ooze into her being. After a few more minutes, with Milo waiting ever-so-tolerantly, she murmured, “This is the place my father perished. It sickens me.” 

Silence descended. Kida’s face contorted slightly in confusion at the lack of Milo’s response, but then she felt the uncomfortable shift of his body. He coughed awkwardly and shifted his shoulders as he played with the dark blue cloth loosely wrapped over his thin frame. 

“I, er… Yeah, that’ll do it,” Milo chuckled in discombobulation. Despite herself, a teensy smile curled up the ends of Kida’s lips. Her frazzled husband could be so adorable sometimes. Milo coughed once more as he struggled to compose himself and offer proper consolation. “I, er… Darn it, Milo, you should be ashamed of yourself… O-oh, uh, right, you’re sad, um, and I’m supposed to make you feel better, ummm… I love you?” Kida snorted in laughter and leaned up to look him in the face. His golden-brown eyebrows were tightly knit together above the wireframes of his glasses. Milo stared at her, resembling a puppy puzzled by its owner’s action. Perhaps it wasn’t the most eloquent comfort, but Kida felt reassured nonetheless. She put a hand on Milo’s cheek and kissed the corner of his mouth. 

“I love you too, Milo. I feel better.” 

“Really?” he blurted, eyes blown wide. Kida chuckled in amusement, her other hand sliding down the length of his arm to link their hands and entwine their fingers. Milo gave her that lopsided smile that sent warm bubbles coursing through her body anytime she was graced with its appearance. Without saying another word, Milo wrapped his free arm around her to pull her in for another soft embrace, peppering kisses into her long, moon-white hair. “I wish he were here,” he admitted against her scalp. “He should’ve been allowed to see what a splendid queen you are…” Kida exhaled deeply and melted languidly against his frame, tracing his star-patterned tattoo’s jagged lines.

“Mhmm… I wish he would have been able to see what a remarkable king you are,” she countered. She couldn’t see Milo’s face, but she could tell he was flushing from the intense spike of heat that rolled off his body in a sudden wave. He began stuttering nervous refusals under his breath, so Kida continued, “You are a wonderful king! My people- our people- respect you immensely.” Her fingers walked a path over his shoulder and up his neck. When she reached his jaw, she flattened her palm against his cheek. She rolled her head over his shoulder to smirk at him, turning his face down to her as she did so. “I certainly could not hope to rule without such a kind and considerate man by my side.” 

“Well,” he considered suddenly, rolling his eyes up in pseudo-thoughtfulness. Kida snickered at his abrupt shift to a playful mood. In a second, he grinned widely and dropped down to press a sweet little kiss to the tip of her nose. “I certainly couldn’t hope to rule without such a strong, sophisticated woman by my side,” he contradicted coltishly. His tone was jesting, but seriousness swam in the sparkling pools of his eyes. Smiling lovingly, Kida stroked the contour of his jawline continuously as he gazed adoringly down into her sea-blue eyes. “At any rate, it’s a good thing he can see how well we’re doing, anyway.” It was Kida’s turn to be confused, and she quirked an eyebrow vexedly. Grinning, Milo jabbed his index finger towards the ceiling. 

Kida immediately understood. 

“Mhmm… Yes, you are right, Milo.” Above the barrier of the worn stone roof, her ancestors’ stone carvings orbited the mighty hidden city. Their mighty visages thrummed with the sparkling energy of life and spirit and magic; Kida knew her father’s soul coursed within those magical veins. She also knew that his wizened old eyes, with sight returned in his eternal afterlife, gazed upon her with all measures of fondness and pride. Kida’s eyes disintegrated the ceiling’s dark surface to envision his stone carving looking down upon her, and she smiled. “Yes, you’re right,” she repeated softly and snuggled into her husband’s body. “I know he can see how beautiful our amazing city has continued to become.” 

Sadly, her father was gone, and nothing could ever completely fill the void left behind in Kida’s heart. Still, all was not lost- she had a kingdom that uplifted her, and a loving husband who thought her the world. With so much love and support holding her up, Kida could face all the world’s sadness without question.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

Midnight Angel

Pairings: Peter Parker x Gender Neutral!Reader

Summary: There are some disgusting people in this world- people who feel the need to exert power over others in terrible ways. When victims speak up, they are ignored, or worse, blamed. When you decide to take matters into your own hands, you run into a particular superhero. 

Warnings: Violence; Repeated mentions of sexual assault, rape and abuse (though no actual depictions of any); I guess there’s like borderline torture but not really? Stapling things to people’s bodies?; Cursing; Rope around the neck (not hanging anyone but they get pulled by it, like a collar)

Word Count: 4000

A/N: All victims of the Midnight Angel (Philip Meeks and Hillary Times) are entirely made up characters! These are not based off real people and if anyone has these names, this is not an accusation of them in any way shape or form. Just a coincidence. 

_________________________________

Finding targets was always the easiest part. You had two main methods: 1) Tracking people down through the internet and 2) Hearing about them through your mother’s law firm. Going to a STEM school that emphasized proficiency with computer programming made hacking into web systems to find the necessary information simple. Since your mother specialized in representing abuse and rape victims in court, getting information from her files was a quick task. 

You didn’t think of yourself as a criminal, although you knew that by all legal definitions, you were. But was it really a crime when you hurt people who hurt others? By targeting rapists and abusers, you were only making the city safer. You considered it community service that you could never include on a college application. 

It all started when your mother came home, angrily devastated by the loss of a case her client had against her ex-boyfriend, claiming he’d been abusing both her and their son. The evidence has been solid. Multiple police reports from both her and their neighbors, along with pictures documenting the abuse and witness reports made for a nearly assured win for the client. Your mother had been so excited that the poor woman and her child could finally rest easy knowing that their abuser was behind bars. But then the ex-boyfriend’s lawyer said something that instilled just enough doubt in the jury’s mind to return from deliberation with a not guilty verdict. 

You remembered your mother coming home in tears that night, telling you how she felt like she’d failed the victims because now the boyfriend would walk free. That night, though, you decided that he wouldn’t. It wasn’t difficult to go through your mother’s computer once she fell asleep, a solo bottle of wine later, to find out where to find the boyfriend lived, though it took some digging through multiple databases. 

Once you found your target’s location, you had gotten dressed in dark but unsuspecting clothes and gloves, the face masks you were forced to wear due to COVID-19 coming in handy for concealing your identity without looking suspicious, and snuck out through the fire escape, making your way a few blocks down to the sketchy apartment building your target resided in. You climbed the fire escape up to the fifth floor and peeked in through the window before the actual attack. The man was asleep on the couch, the TV illuminating the otherwise dark room. The cans of beer scattered haphazardly across the coffee table told you that he would probably be difficult to wake up, which was perfect. 

You flicked the blade of your pocket knife out and used it to slide under the windowpane and shimmy the lock until it clicked open. Carefully, you slid the window open, watching for any reaction from the man only to see him still sawing logs on the couch. Once you were in, the first step was reaching into your backpack to remove duct tape and rope that you brought with. You grabbed a chair and carefully brought it into the center of the small living room, just far enough away to make it impossible to reach anything, before tiptoeing back to him and placing a strip of duct tape over his slightly stubbled face. 

His eyes shot open and he woke with a start, hand going up immediately to grip your wrist that dwarfed in comparison. You’d expected this reaction, though, and grabbed his wrist, using his own force to throw him off of the couch and onto the ground. 

Little known secret: Your mother had had you in judo classes since you were a young child. Though you’d never gotten into competing for any more than earning belts, you were one of the best pupils until you quit a few years ago. 

The man was caught off guard and he tried to yell at you through the tape but to no avail. You rolled to straddle him and looped the rope around his neck, albeit sloppily, but it tightened just enough when you pulled on it. Using the rope as leverage, you stood up and dragged him over to the chair. He crawled sloppily, fumbling over himself as you tugged on the rope in a sadistic yet satisfying display of power when he didn’t move fast enough. 

“Get up!” You demanded quietly but aggressively, trying to distort your voice naturally by making it a few octaves lower than it naturally sat. He sat back on his knees, prying at the rope around his throat but you just tugged on it, making him lurch forward, his hands landing on the chair. “Sit.” 

On shaky hands, he pressed himself up to obey and you used the long end of the rope in your hands to wrap around his body, tying him to the chair. The rope around his neck was loose now, mostly just there to serve as a reminder of what you could do if you really wanted to, but the rope bit into his biceps. 

Once he was securely tied in place, you walked around the front of the chair to get in his face. His brown eyes were wide with fear and confusion and a fucked up part of you loved to see it. “You like to hit little kids, huh?” You asked and he shook his head aggressively in denial, tears brimming in his eyes. 

You sent a solid left hook to his face, “You liar. You really think I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t know what you did?” You shook your hand, never having truly punched anyone in the face before and boy did it hurt like a bitch. 

For the finishing touch of your master plan, you reached into your bag one final time, retrieving a staple gun and a piece of paper you’d printed out that read I think it’s fun to beat women and children. Uncreative, you knew, but this was a spontaneous act of vigilantism. Next time, you’d think of something better. 

“Tell me… what is it about it that you enjoy?” You waved the staple gun around as you spoke and his eyes followed it in terror, “Is it some power trip? Do you enjoy seeing the fear in your girlfriend’s eyes when you're about to hit her? The fear in your son’s? How old is he again? Four?” Seeing somebody look so afraid of you, by what you were doing and saying honestly scared you but the rage was taking over, fueling your shaky hands as you continued your little speech, “How people like you exist in this world is beyond me. Even more is how monsters like you get away with it. But don’t worry, you won’t ever again.” 

In a flash, you stuck the paper to his chest and used the staple gun to send short metal prongs into his pectoral muscle, tacking the label to his skin painfully. He screamed out in pain as the metal curled beneath his skin but it was muffled by the tape, inaudible to the neighbors in every direction. 

“Now, you get to stay here until somebody finds you and when they do, they’ll see you for what you are. If I ever hear that you put your hands on another person again, I don’t give a damn who it is, I’ll come back and tattoo it across your fucking forehead. Or I’ll just kill you.” You shrugged before leaning in, your forehead nearly touching his, “But remember that I found you this time. Finding you again will be even easier.” 

You made your way to the window, stepping out, “Sleep tight.” 

**

“Today’s top story, another victim of the vigilante taking out abusers and rapists. This time, a woman named Hillary Times was found tied to the kitchen table of her Queens apartment with a paper that says, quote ‘Don’t trust the babysitter’ end quote, stapled to her chest. Along with the note was included multiple pages of messages between Times and several children, all under the age of fifteen. Also provided was a link to a web forum dedicated to child pornography, which has led to the arrests of not only Miss Times but four other suspects. Times sustained minor injuries in the attack and is expected to make a full recovery. She is the latest victim of what news articles are calling the Midnight Angel. Some are making them out to be a hero while others see it as a violent rampage. What is the truth? We’ll leave that up to you. Now, onto sports…” 

Peter watched the news play on his computer screen while he suited up for his nightly patrol as Spiderman. He couldn’t lie, he was actually sort of impressed by this Midnight Angel person, whoever they were. As long as they were only hurting bad people, he didn’t see a problem with it. Besides, he was no better. He was just some kid acting like a vigilante in the night, just like the Midnight Angel. Just like all the Avengers were before they were an organized collective. 

He swung out the window and out into the bustling New York City night. Even at midnight, the song rang true. It was the city that never slept. 

Peter went through his usual routine, swinging around, looking for any sign of distress. He didn’t find any after looking for at least an hour, which was actually disappointing. It wasn’t that Peter wanted anyone to be getting murdered or robbed or what have you but he always craved a bit of action. Tonight was just one of those rare calm nights where he found himself sitting on the ledge of a tall apartment building, swinging his legs over the edge in boredom. 

Or so he thought. 

It was quiet at first- so quiet that he wouldn’t have heard it without his exceptional senses. It came through at first as a tip tap tip tap of something against metal. Peter couldn’t tell exactly what it was but his senses told him it was coming from a few dozen feet below him, still in the same building. 

Crawling along the side of the building, he crept in the shadows until he saw the source of the noise. You swung your body gracefully over the edge of the fire escape and crouched down at the window before taking something from your pocket. What it was, Peter couldn't tell from where he was but it got his blood pumping in anticipation. Home invasion. It had been a long time since he'd dealt with one of these and they always got interesting. 

He watched as you slid the window open and crawled through the port, disappearing into the apartment like a shadow in the night. Peter continued crawling down the building another four stories until he saw the open window you used to enter. 

It was unnervingly quiet at first, though he could hear your light footsteps pattering down the halls, almost imperceptibly. Peaking in, he noticed the main room was empty, apart from typical living room and dining room furniture. The kitchen was directly across from the window, only separated from the living room by a little bar, but his hearing was piqued in the direction of the short hallway to his right. 

Suddenly, there was a thud and the sound of a muffled struggle from down in that direction. Peter rushed down and burst into the bedroom to see you straddling a man on the ground, who it looked like you had just pulled out of bed. He was face down and struggling as you roughly pulled his head up by a gag cloth you had in his mouth that you were struggling to tie. 

"Shut up!" You hissed, smacking the man upside the head. He didn't and only struggled more. 

Peter jumped into the action, immediately helping the man in distress. Before you could even process what was happening, the boy shot a web at you and flung you into the wall roughly. You hit it with a thud and crumbled to the ground. 

What the hell?! 

With a pained groan, you leap to your feet and lunged to grab the man you had pinned, now trying to make a desperate escape. Now that you didn't have the advantage of the target being groggy from sleep, he kicked you in the face roughly with his sock covered feet. You retracted just enough to cover your face with your arms but this allowed for him to scramble away. 

"Don't worry sir! I'm here to help!" A boy's voice called out from the doorway. When you looked up, you saw none other than Spiderman. This meant you were either going to get help or were really fucked. Sure, you had computer skills and martial arts training but he had sticky webs and super strength. 

"Get him!" You called out to Spiderman, desperate not to lose your target. 

Peter stood confused. You demanded his help as if it were an obvious move. Why would a robber expect him to help? Maybe something else was going on… 

When he didn't move, the man shoved past him, desperate to get to the front door, "Please let me go! Help me out Spiderman! This person just broke in and attacked me!" 

You ran after, quickly tackling the man to the ground. He threw punch after punch your way but you swiftly dodged all but one. The one that landed sent you to your ass, falling backwards heavily. 

“Shut up you pathetic sack of shit! You think your exes got help when you beat them?" You spat, venom in your words as you maneuvered have him pinned for a third time.

Those words made it click to Peter. "You're the Midnight Angel?" 

"Yes! Now help me or get out of my way!" Under normal circumstances, you were much nicer but currently you were struggling immensely to keep this guy under control. Manners were not your top priority. 

Peter didn't need much time to contemplate. With a flick of his wrist he had the guy caught in a web and held in place. "What should I do?" Peter didn't know why he felt so clueless. Didn't he do this crap every night? He should know how to capture a bad guy. But because you were involved, he felt like an accomplice to a crime and it made him nervous. The way you handled things seemed so much darker than the way he did. 

The guy was only held by his chest by the webs, his arms free. He took the opportunity to grab at you and pulled your mask down. You gasped in horror and your first instinct was to send a mean left hook to the man's head, effectively sending him to the ground, unconscious, before he could get a good look at you. You just hoped he hadn’t gotten a good enough look at you to describe you to police. 

"Wait, Y/N?!" You froze. How could Spiderman know who you are? And why did the way he said your name sound so familiar…

"How do you know who I am?" You asked defensively, quickly pulling your mask back over your face. 

Peter stiffened, realizing that by acknowledging he knew you put his identity at risk to, and began to babble, "Oh, did I- sorry, you just look like someone I met one time but you're not them so don't worry. My bad, all my bad." 

The rambling with the voice… it all began to connect in your head. "Peter?" 

Peter's blood went cold, "What? No. You must have me confused with someone else." 

"Oh my gosh! Peter Parker, are you Spiderman?" You whisper-yelled to make sure the neighbors couldn't hear. It all made sense. You were casual friends with the boy, both doing Academic Decathlon. Your strength was more computers while he seemed to specialize in engineering but you still had three classes together and just happened to sit by each other in all of them. "All the Decathlons you missed, showing up to school with mysterious injuries, crushing everything in gym class, and the Stark internship! Everything makes sense!" 

He stepped towards you waving his arms desperately, "Shhh you can't tell anyone!" 

You shrugged, looking almost indignantly at him, "Of course, I won't tell. You can't say anything about me either though." Did he really think so low of you? 

"No, no, of course not." He stammered. The room went silent and you both sort of shifted back and forth on your feet. 

Eventually, you gestured to the unconscious man on the floor, "Well, uh, I better finish up with all this. You can stay or go or whatever. But I'm not gonna steal anything so you don't have to worry about actual crimes being committed here if you leave." 

"As if sneaking into a guy's apartment and beating him senseless before stringing him up with rope and stapling a note to his body isn't a crime?" He pointed out, only a hint of sarcasm in his voice. 

Your brows furrowed, "It’s punishing bad guys. You do the same thing!" 

"I know, I know, I was joking!" He defended, making you retreat slightly. You didn't mean to sound hostile, your nerves were just high after being discovered. After a brief pause, he asked ,"So, uh, you need help with that?" Peter gestured to the man, whose face was now swelling immensely 

You shrugged, thinking of the rope in your backpack and knowing it would be easier to let Peter help, with his super strength and all, considering this particular man had to have at least a hundred and fifty pounds on you. Using the moving momentum of someone significantly bigger than you was one thing. Hoisting up the dead weight of one was drastically different. "If you wouldn't mind." 

Peter nodded, almost excited to help. "So where do we begin? This is your thing." 

"Usually I tie them up and threaten them a little. Get a few hits in if I'm feeling generous. Then I staple a list of evidence against them to their chest and run off into the night." You rubbed your neck awkwardly, looking down at the man who was on the ground with twisted lips, "This didn't quite go the way it normally does…" 

Peter thought for a moment, "I think I have an idea." 

***

The coffee shop bustled around the table that you, Ned, MJ, and Peter all sat around. A cup of jasmine tea steamed on the table beside your open AP Chemistry textbook and study guide for the upcoming Decathlon. The group felt comfortable despite it being the first time you'd studied with only them. While you had always been casual friends with all three peers, you hadn't actually started hanging out until recently. That is, until after you and Peter found out about each other's secrets. It was amazing how discovering a friend was a secret vigilante really brought a pair together. 

"How are you doing on the astronomy section, Peter?" Ned asked from across the table, leaning over his AP World History textbook. Each of you had taken a different subject to work on. 

Peter picked up his copy of the study guide, which he'd scribbled notes all over, "Uh, I have all the notes on Titan I could manage from the book and I’m moving onto the gravities of different planets but-" 

"Wait, shh!" MJ silenced the group of you suddenly without explanation. 

"What?" You asked, trying to hear what she was talking about but not hearing anything other than the shop's ambience. 

She pointed up to the TV playing in the far corner that could barely be heard over the constant murmur of voices but the subtitles were easy to read from the close distance. A woman read the newest story from the teleprompter as you all watched, “Breaking news, yet another alleged victim of the Midnight Angel has been found, this time in Jackson Heights. However, this time, there’s a twist. 39 year old Philip Meeks was found strung up hanging between his apartment building and the convenience store across the street, over the middle of the busy road by spiderwebs. This appears to be the work of Spiderman, which has never been seen before at any of the previous crime scenes. Mr. Meeks was found alive and in stable condition with a seven page long list of reported incidents against him, filed by fifteen different men and women claiming to be previous partners of his, stapled to his chest. These accusations range from verbal abuse to sexual assault. 

Mr. Meeks is now in custody and his crimes are being investigated by police. The bigger question now is who is the Midnight Angel? Has this been Spiderman the entire time? Or are they two vigilantes now working together?” 

Her co-anchor turned to her, “Well, Jill, I sure hope we find some answers soon.” 

“Me too.” She agreed, flipping through the papers on her desk. 

There was an awkward moment where you, Peter, and Ned all exchanged a quick knowing glance while MJ’s back was turned. Ned’s eyes got wide when he realized that you were in on everything somehow and his mouth opened in a silent plea for some bit of information. As far as Ned knew, he was the only one who knew about Peter’s secret. What the hell did you have to do with anything? 

MJ turned and let out a heavy sigh, you, Ned, and Peter all quickly returning to a neutral ignorant facade. “I don’t usually look up to people but I think the Midnight Angel is my hero.” 

You snorted, “Why’s that?” You questioned innocently. 

“Why wouldn’t they be? All these twisted sickos out there go around abusing and assaulting people and get away with it because of our victim-blaming ‘justice’ system,” she added air quotes, “It’s about time somebody tracked these fuckers down and made them pay,” She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms, looking off dreamily, “I think I want to marry them.” 

“You don’t even know who they are.” Ned’s pointed out. 

MJ just waved away the concern, “Don’t care. That’s the energy I need in my life.” 

You just chuckled inwardly to yourself and though, Alright, guess we’re getting married. Peter looked over to you with a similar look, laughing at the same thought himself. 

“So do you guys think it’s all Spiderman?” You asked, just to look less suspicious, though Ned still looked like he was catching on. 

MJ shook her head, “No, not a chance. Why wouldn’t he have used his webs in the other eight attacks then?” Suddenly, she jolted and began scribbling on a notebook page. 

“What are you doing?” Peter peeked over her shoulder to try and decipher the scribbles, failing when MJ’s hair fell to block his view. 

“I’m gonna figure out who they are.” She announced proudly. “Because I know they are not the same person.”

Peter shrugged, panicking internally, “There’s like eight million people in New York City. I don’t think you-” 

“Sure in the whole city but all the attacks have been local to Queens. Same with Spiderman sightings. I’m guessing they live here in Queens, which brings our pool down to like 2 million people. Spiderman is apparently male, which further cuts that number in half, and we don’t know about the Midnight Angel because nobody has ever seen them. From there, we can look at Spiderman’s build and eliminate people who are overweight, underweight, and super tall…” MJ continued rambling on about her masterplan to discover the identities of Spiderman and her new hero, the Midnight Angel. 

You and Peter looked across the table at each other, your leg bouncing nervously. While MJ’s plan seemed ludicrous considering the millions of possibilities she had to sort through, you knew how smart she was. There was a possibility, no matter how slim, that she could actually figure this out. Peter seemed to know this as well. 

Would it be better to come clean now or wait and see if she figured it out? Concerns for the future of the Midnight Angel whirled through your mind but one thing was for sure: regardless of whether or not Ned and MJ found out your secret, the Midnight Angel would never disappear. 

[tinybangtanangel]

★~BTS REALITY~★

BTS is holding a special reality series with fans as a celebration of ten years performing. The goal is simple, be the last girl standing and you might win yourself a big ol' prize.

Now who in their right mind would pass up on an opportunity like this? Definitely not you.

Rated: M (it doesn’t seem like it now, but it’ll get there eventually)

Relationship: OT7/Reader

1 | 2 | ?

                            Chapter 1: ★ APPLICATION ★

It was an ordinary Saturday. The refreshing feeling of waking up and realizing you had no classes already making the day ten times better. The smell of coffee makes its way to your nose, indicating that Adela was awake. She was always the early riser of you two.

Making your way out of your room, you wrinkle your nose as the coffee smell becomes stronger. Coffee was not a drink you preferred. You drag your way to the bathroom and proceed through your morning routine.

Teeth freshly brushed and face washed, you walk towards the living room.

“You’re up early” Adela states slightly surprised. She watches you beeline to the couch. You offer a small grunt in return as you plop yourself down. You never were much of a morning person, though today seemed to be going fine so far. She grins and sashays her way over to the couch as you begin flipping through movies to watch.

“You know, (y/n), I’m going to be checking out that new café on campus with Jeffery today, if you want to come with” You, halt your movie search.

“Adela, girl, I love you, but Jeffery is a total douche,” you reply. Last time you checked Jeffrey's world revolved around pretty girls and parties.

Laughing, Adela rolls her eyes. “Whatever (y/n), I’m leaving in an hour, let me know if you change your mind” and with that, she heads towards her room to get ready. Shrugging, you return your focus to the T.V. It would be nice to head out today and get some fresh air, but staying home and binging Netflix sounded much more appealing. You snuggle further into the couch, yes, this will do for today.

----------

It was close to lunchtime when you finally peeled yourself from the couch. Your hunger had overpowered your will to not move, and so, you were forced to get up. Without Adela in the house, it was unusually quiet, something you hadn’t had the pleasure of experiencing in a while. Turning to your phone, you scrolled for some music to play while making something to eat. Opening YuTube you begin your search for some good music.

While scrolling you come across a new BTS song. ‘Hmm’ you think to yourself, ‘It has been some time since I’ve listened to something new by them’ Clicking the song you are pleasantly surprised with what you hear. They had evolved their music style since the last time you had listened to them. You scroll down further to the comments, wanting to see what others think of the song. As you read through the comments, you notice some repeat the same message: LIVE EVERY FAN’S BEST DREAM WITH BTS! CLICK HERE TO READ MORE…

You stare at the message intently. It was most likely a scam, some robot trying to rob fans of their personal information, yet you felt your curiosity getting the best of you. God, please don’t be dumb right now (y/n). You could not afford to have your personal info stolen, especially your bank info, with how things were going money-wise. You found your finger getting closer and closer to the link. Well as the saying goes, you only live once! Quickly pressing down, you scrunch your eyes as if by closing your eyes you were saving yourself from the hacker you were allowing onto your phone. After a couple of seconds, you slowly peel your eyes open.

Looking down you are shocked to see a legitimate website. You stare at your phone helplessly as the options tumble through your head. Glowing on your screen was the ad for BTS’s new exclusive series reality show, something about a gift they had decided to award their fans for their 10th anniversary.

You delve further into reading the ad, trying to see if this was really happening. Who would’ve thought BigHit would ever allow this, especially with the number of crazy fans BTS had out there. Applicants weren’t required to speak fluent Korean, rather they wanted those who could speak some Korean and some English. You knew fans all over the world were having a field day over this, including you. Giggling in excitement, your legs begin bouncing in anticipation. Sure you only knew like five words in Korean, but you could learn more. As you began to calm back down, logic began invading your happy thoughts. There were going to be millions of people applying for a chance to participate in the show, and only 10 spaces available. Well, 10 spaces before elimination within the show of course. There was no way BigHit was going to notice you of all people, so what was the point.

“Fuck it” Rolling your neck, you ease the tension of sitting hunched over your phone. Either way, you weren’t going to die if you applied. Might as well jump on the opportunity.

The questions were very standard, asking information such as age, height, nationality, etc. Towards the end, trickier questions began appearing.

“Why do I want to be a part of this show?” you can’t help the eye roll that escapes you at the question “What the hell kind of question is that,” you ask yourself aloud. What were you supposed to write? It was simple, you had been a big fan of them back in the day (still kind of were), and this was your chance to meet them in person. But you had a feeling BigHit wanted something a bit deeper, something more personal. Unfortunately, you were not a very deep person, so this question was a challenge.

Almost two hours later, you were finally finished. Grumbling, you stood and made your way back to the living room. Your mind wandered back to the difficult question. You had written some cheesy response relating BTS to your ‘precious high school years’, but what if that wasn’t good enough? Someone across the globe had probably written a more authentic answer, taking your chance of ever meeting the boys. You shook your head as you made your way back to the living room, it wasn’t like you were going to get picked anyway.

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You were shaking as you stared at your computer in disbelief. To say you were confused was an understatement. How was this even possible? You were sure your application would get ignored with the millions of fans applying, yet in front of you was an email from BigHit inviting you for an interview. You couldn’t even describe the emotions coursing through you, everything felt tingly and ugh you hated it. You were probably about to have a stroke from the shock alone. Stumbling towards your bed you throw yourself down, how were you supposed to break the news to Adela. Also thank god it was summer since your dumb ass decided to apply without even thinking about school. God this was all happening way too fast.

Your hands tremble as the gravity of the situation sets in.

You were going to Korea.

You were going to be on T.V.

You were going to meet BTS.

No, you were getting ahead of yourself. You had to pass the interview first before you could even breathe in the same room as them.

Your eyes begin to droop, the softness of your bed lulling you to sleep. You had some serious planning to do.

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“God you’re so lucky (y/n), make sure to get an autograph for me.” You laugh as Adela clings to you. Breaking the news to her wasn’t as hard as you thought it would be. Now here you were, a new wardrobe later, lugging the largest suitcase you could find. You weren’t exactly sure how long you were going to be stuck in Korea, so you figured you might as well pack as much as possible.

Adela had been slightly hurt that you hadn’t told her about the application since she had been a fan back in the day as well. In the end, she settled with you getting their autographs and pictures of the boys. That was if you even made it onto the show.

“You know I can’t promise that Adela” you reply amused. She rolls her eyes with a huff.

“Oh be quiet (y/n), they’d be stupid to ever reject a girl like you” she grins at you before picking up the pace. “Hurry up, you’re going to miss your flight at this rate”

You can feel the sweat collecting on your hands as you approach the security check. This was it, no turning back now. Taking in a deep breath, you turn towards Adela.

“Thanks for coming with me today, I’m seriously going to miss you”, your voice wavering slightly. You hear her sniff before she launches herself at you.

“Shut up, you’re going to make me cry (y/n)” Chuckling, you wrap your arms tighter around her. You were going to be lonely without her. Reluctantly, you pull away. You had a flight to catch. Looking back one last time, she waves and you turn and make your ways towards security. Korea, here you come.

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Finally, the plane had landed. You knew the flight would be long, but you didn’t realize how bloated you would get, so now here you were with a swollen face hobbling around the Seoul international airport. Good thing you weren’t being interviewed, or even seen by anyone from BigHit today. They might have rejected you on your bloated face alone.

Looking up you thank the gods that they provide English on the signs because although you were comfortable with speaking Korean, reading was a different story. You wander around for your carousel and luggage, there were too many people in this place. You rub your face and wipe the crust from our eyes. You could not wait to get to the hotel and get some proper rest.

30 minutes later, you finally had your luggage and were heading towards the exit when you spotted a man holding a sign with your name. You pause slightly, startled at the sight before you. Was this in the email they sent you? Gosh, you knew you should’ve re-read the email before landing. You decide against waving your hand at the man and begin approaching him instead.

Getting closer, you tentatively step towards the male “Um, hello sir, my name is (y/n) (l/n)” your voice coming out hoarsely. Jesus, you needed to drink some water asap.

Turning suddenly, the man’s eyes widen. “Oh! Apologies miss! I didn’t see you walk here” he apologizes quickly, a forced smile pulling its way across his face. His accent was prominent as he stumbled through his English. Giving you a once over, he bends to grab your luggage from you. “My name is Song Park. If you would follow me, I will be taking you to hotel”

“Oh, thank you very much Mr. Park” you respond somewhat taken aback as he begins to wheel your luggage towards the car. You weren’t expecting a whole chaperone service, but you sure as hell didn’t have any complaints.

Sliding into the car you decide to send a quick text to Adela, letting her know you had arrived safely. The car begins moving as Song drives you to your destination. You lay your head back and allow yourself to relax into the seat, you can’t help the butterflies that flush your system suddenly as realization strikes you. This was happening. A smile graces your features as you doze off.