#jotting this down this is screaming fic material at me

[astramachina]

matpat accidentally calling william/henry/mimic(?) a threesome and then seeing the light leave his eyes when he realized what he's done will forever be on my most triumphant top five moments in this fandom.

[alluringjae]

until dawn; pt. II - ljn

part I | part II

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

⤑ pairing: jeno x female reader

⤑ word count: 12.2k

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

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

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

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

with that, enjoy!

italicized text either means they are personal notes or flashbacks.

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

⤑ taglist: @renjunniehome

​ ⤑ ctto above!!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re cynical, Lee Jeno.”

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

“Aren’t we already past that stage?”

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

Or was it?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or did she?

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

“Maybe we should watch another film first?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“May I kiss you?”

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

You trust him, and he does too.

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Spare me 15 more minutes with you first.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You.”

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

You’re so smitten, and so was he.

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

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

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

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

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

“I see you’re breaking another rule.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A gift?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you like it?”

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

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

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

“Done.” He breathily whispered in your ear.

**

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He knew exactly what he was doing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“(Y/N), will we work out?”

“What do you mean, Jeno?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why shouldn’t I, angel?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure, angel?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, Jeno.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can’t lose you, (Y/N).”

“You never will, Jeno.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Goodbye, Lee Jeno.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

- Athena

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

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

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

What are your new sketches?

Are you taking care of Mochi well?

Have you apologized to Sanghoon yet?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- (Y/N)

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

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

- (Y/N)

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

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

“Are you just saying this or something?”

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

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

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

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

Jeno nodded, listening to whatever Sanghoon had to say.

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

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

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

A Year and a Half Later

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This radiant face was none other than yours.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How do you know me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So I’ll forget everyone and him?”

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

“Must I need to forget to live properly?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Head to toe, you remembered everything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[iceshard1011]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Sanders Sides (Web Series) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil & Creativity | Roman & Deceit & Logic | Logan & Morality | Patton Characters: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Deceit | Janus Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders, Morality | Patton Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, The Dragon Witch (Sanders Sides) Additional Tags: Sympathetic Deceit | Janus Sanders, (forced) Shapeshifting, Arguing, panicking (but no panic attacks), Loss of Control, Minor Violence, Threats of Violence, Insecure Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Fainting, Self-Doubt, I'm Bad At Summaries, and tagging Series: Part 1 of Ruby Wings Summary:

Deceit held up his hands. "Don't... move. Don't freak out."

Roman, frankly, had no idea what he was talking about.

Then he looked down and saw the huge dragon talons.

Roman, understandably, freaked out.

posting it on tumblr as well, for anyone who’s interested. the 9k word fic (god help me) is below :)

A vein of purple lit up the dark sky. It was accompanied by a series of thunderous booms that shook the landscape. The trees of the surrounding forest were bent to breaking point, their thick trunks groaning in the howling wind. Rain pelted down onto the long grass that waved vigorously underneath the angry storm clouds.

Atop the tallest hill the dark silhouette of a huge castle ominously contrasted with the backdrop behind it as lightning once more shot up the sky. Within the cobblestone walls, the sound of rain hammering against glass panes echoed through the empty halls. On the other side of closed, oak wood doors, a muffled roaring joined the thunderclaps.

A table was upturned, candles and ink pots thrown to the marble floor. A clawed hand swept stacks of books off a desk. Lightning illuminated the perpetrator's hulking form along with the pale face of the second party in the room, watching the tirade with widened eyes.

Wings arched from the aggressor's back. "Once more," they hissed through a gravelly voice, "would you care to tell me what you were doing in my domain?"

The prince of the castle rolled his eyes. "The side of the forest that's a little darker and dense than the rest?" He scoffed. "You don't have a 'domain'. I control the entirety of the Imagination. I'm in charge of it."

The intruder turned on him. She smiled, sharpened teeth peering through thin lips. Then she laughed, throwing her head back and shrieking at the ceiling above.

"Oh," she purred, calming to prowl forward and cup his chin beneath her taloned hand. "What am I still doing here, then?" Roman frowned at her as she pulled away, smirking toothily down at him. “If you control the Imagination and everything within it, why may I ask, am I still here?"

"I can dematerialise you whenever I want," Roman said. The winged witch bit her lip to prevent another burst of laughter.

"Careful, Your Majesty," she said, "you might summon more unwanted problems."

"I can!" Roman protested, stepping forward. The witch’s gaze lazily flickered to where he was gripping the hilt of his sword at his hip. "I can easily banish you."

"Why don't you?" She turned around, her tail sweeping through the shards of a broken mini statue strewn across the floor. "If it was so easy to escape me, do you not think that I would be gone by now?"

"I—" Roman started then paused.

"I'm part of the Imagination, prince," the half-dragon said. She picked up a sheet of paper from a stool, reading off the half-hearted, dot-pointed video ideas. She sneered at it, turning her dark gaze on Creativity. "I am part of you." He blanched as she began to stalk slowly back to him, the list of awful ideas clenched in her talons. Roman's back pressed against the wall behind him. He unsheathed his sword.The dragon witch paused just short of suffocating him. She gazed down at the prince's list, her lip curled in disgust. "Unless." She tore the paper in two, and then again, and again until those nights of staying up late to jot down anything that came to mind was nothing but pathetic scraps on the floor.

"They weren't useless," Roman said, but his protest was weak and the words felt like he was forcing sandpaper out through his throat. "I still have more ideas. I'm not... scared of you." The witch raised one eyebrow, her teeth flashing as she smirked down at the struggling prince.

"I still have more ideas," he was muttering, almost to himself now. "I'm not useless. I know I matter to Thomas." He looked up to glare at her. "I'm not affected by you."

The dragon witch didn't need to say anything this time. Instead, Roman's actions spoke for themselves when in the centre of the room, a black-clothed side rose up, looking intrigued and then mildly disturbed as he took in the mess of the room.

"Oh, darling," the witch crooned, looking back at Creativity. Roman stared, horrified at Deceit who looked back with a faint crease between his eyebrows. "That bad?" He glanced back up to the dragon witch. Her face was twisted with mock sympathy. "Lying that much?" Roman looked at the ground. The witch reached forward to rest a taloned hand on his shoulder. "Maybe you need to learn how to hold your tongue."

Roman's head shot back up, panic flaring in his eyes as he jerked away from her, but she had already snapped her talons together.

A dizzy spell overcame the prince and he staggered, dropping his sword as he reached to clutch his head. Before him, the dragon witch stepped back. "Perhaps a change of perspective would help."

If she said anything else, Roman didn't hear it because he was kneeling to the ground, an unbearably painful headache throbbing through his skull. A keening groan squeezed itself from his throat as he gripped his hair, wanting to pull it from his head. The ripping, hot pain spread from his head down to his back, like swords stabbing into his spine. He thumped to his side, his legs beginning to feel like his bones were popping through his skin. An agonised scream erupted from his mouth, tearing up through his throat like shards of glass. His lungs and chest started to burn as if they’d been lit aflame. He coughed like he'd inhaled smoke and whimpered, curling in on himself.

A pair of dress shoes might have been in front of him at this point, and maybe someone was speaking, but all Roman could do was squeeze his eyes shut and shudder as his whole body reverberated with pain.

Roman wasn't sure if it all had stopped or he'd just blacked out, but when he dared open his eyes, he wasn't in the castle's room anymore. In fact — where was he?

Outside. That much was clear, given the beaming medallion of a sun in the sky, shining down onto the soaked landscape below. The only remnants of the vicious storm was the dripping leaves of trees and the dew saturating the grass. Had Roman been out for an entire night? Or had it been day the entire time, masked by the dark thunderclouds and the storm had only cleared when the dragon witch had left?

Roman was lying among scattered pieces of rock. Rubble? It looked like the same material the walls were made of. Why would the castle be crumbling?

He lifted his head, in the process finding that it felt uncomfortably heavy and unbalanced, and twisted around to stare in horror at his half destroyed castle. The west-end tower looked completely obliterated, like a giant had stomped on it.

That's where I was, Roman realised with a jolt of horror. What had happened? Did the witch do this? It was doubtful. Had she left? After Deceit had risen up—

Deceit! Was he alright? He'd been in that section of the castle as well. He'd arrived when... Roman had started lying to the witch's face. God, if he was hurt and it was all Roman's fault—

He tried to stand but found it difficult — he was too top heavy and his legs were too weak and his back felt like he was wearing a bag full of boulders—

He toppled onto his side. An undignified yelp made Roman's head twist around. A few lumps of stone rubble away, Deceit was stumbling back over rolling rocks, cursing under his breath, but— something was very wrong.

He was... tiny, for one thing. Deceit had never seemed very tall to Roman, but now he was the size of a kitten! His proportions were all still in order, it just looked like he'd shrunk.

Roman moved to stand again, wanting to help, but he still felt weirdly unwieldy and out of place. His movement, however, made Deceit look up. The scaleless side of his face paled and he stood very still as he gazed up at Roman.

"Roman," Deceit said slowly. "Are you still... uh. All... there?"

Roman frowned. What's he going on about? He opened his mouth to ask but only a low, guttural growl rumbled out. He froze. What?

Deceit held up his hands. "Don't... move. Don't freak out."

Roman, frankly, had no idea what he was talking about.

Then he looked down and saw the huge dragon talons.

Roman, understandably, freaked out.

He lunged to his feet and teetered to the side with what should have been a yelp but sounded more like a giant cat's screech. Unbalanced as he was, when those talons backed up with him, he shrieked and made to lunge for the castle. He collided with it much quicker than he had expected, given it should have been a good distance away because it was so small—

More chunks of the building tumbled to the ground, rolling down the hill. The castle was small, too! Like Deceit! Except it wasn’t small and neither was Deceit and he was just big and TALONED AND—

"Roman!" He and his thoughts screeched to a halt. He looked down to see Deceit standing from the ground, kicking away rocks. He dusted down his dirtied clothes, scowling.

"I could have sworn that I told you not to panic," Deceit hissed, glaring up at him. Roman stared back, feeling successfully ridiculed. "And what did you just do?"

Roman bared his teeth (and it felt weirdly natural). That was hardly fair. Roman didn't see Deceit cursed as a dragon! Roman would like to see that happen to him as he tried not to freak out.

"Don't growl at me," Deceit snapped, then caught himself. He took a literal step back and blew out a long breath through slightly parted lips. "Okay. Alright." He looked up at Roman, his mismatched eyes narrowed. "We can shape shift," he said after a moment. "Can you switch back to normal?"

Roman blinked, almost ashamed to admit that it had taken him a moment to realise that Deceit was trying to help. Frankly too scared to move lest he somehow crush the other side underneath a huge talon, Roman closed his eyes and concentrated. Normally, shifting wouldn't require any concentration at all; a simple thought or willful hand wave could change his appearance.

Now, however, even as he focused on his usual appearance, picturing it in his brain and willing with all his might to change, he felt no different.

When he opened his eyes, he found he didn't look any different either.

His shoulders slouched— well, he thought they did, but instead he felt his back shift weirdly. Glancing back, he eyed the ruby-coloured wings that had drooped to the ground. He looked helplessly at Deceit.

The green-scaled side crossed his arms, brow furrowing further. For a moment, Roman almost thought he was non-verbally accusing Roman of not trying hard enough before he realised Deceit was just deep in thought once again.

"I couldn't sink out before," Deceit said. Roman blinked. "Why?"

Because I don't have control of the Imagination anymore, Roman thought glumly. He moved uneasily away from the wall of the half-destroyed castle and edged carefully over to Deceit, picking his way through the scattered lumps of stone. He crouched awkwardly in front of the other side, staring at him pleadingly. Deceit's hard eyes studied the prince's scaled, elongated snout.

"Your room leads into the Imagination, correct?" Deceit asked. Roman dipped his head in the best nod he could manage. "That means the Imagination leads out into your room." Roman nodded again. "So?" Deceit prompted. Roman frowned, confused. Deceit sighed. "The exit door would be... where?"

Oh! Roman perked up. He strode forward, passing Deceit to lead the way, but an abrupt tug on his back leg forced him to a stop. He glanced back and stared at the heavyset chain clamped to his back ankle. The linked metal trailed back to the base of the castle where it was buried into the stone ground of the castle courtyard. Circling back, Roman peered down at the chain and gave it an experimental tug. It clanked heavily but didn't come loose. He pulled it again, harder this time. The ground barely shifted, much less unearthed the entirety of the chain.

Deceit appeared at his feet, looking at the chain like it had personally offended him. He shared a glance with Roman, who vigorously yanked at the chain and looked down at him like what now? when nothing new happened.

Deceit nudged a shoed toe at the solid ground. Roman, mirroring, clawed experimentally at the set stone surrounding the buried chain. His talons scrapped roughly against the rock, ringing like nails on chalk, and he immediately stopped with a shudder. Deceit, grimacing from the sound, pressed a gloved hand to the side of his head.

Roman felt uneasy at his considering look when their gazes locked once again.

"Dragons can breathe fire, can they not?" Deceit said. Roman's stomach twisted. He only looked like a dragon. That didn't mean he knew how to function like one — nor did he want to learn! He wasn't a dragon! He didn't want to be a—

"Alright," Deceit said. "We won't try melting the chain." Roman wondered if his thoughts were so transparent that even as a dragon — wasn't a dragon! — Deceit was able to read his expressions.

Deceit heaved a quiet sigh. "Where's the door to your room?"

Roman blanched. He wasn't going to leave him here, was he? Deceit's eyebrows twitched upwards, framing his unimpressed and slightly annoyed expression. Roman thought that the half-snake definitely looked as if he could read his mind.

"I'm going to get the others," said Deceit. "I have little to no idea about what to do." It looked like it physically hurt when he added reluctantly, "They can probably... help."

Roman sat down, glaring at the chain linked around his ankle. Deceit crossed his arms, waiting for him to quit his sulking.

Finally, Roman growled and moved his gaze to Deceit. He nodded to the forest beyond them. Deceit followed his gaze.

"The forest?" Roman nodded. "Where in the forest?" Roman paused before lifting a talon and tentatively nudging Deceit to turn around, then pulled back and nodded to himself, satisfied. Deceit looked between Roman and the section of the forest he was now facing with a faintly frustrated expression. "Just... keep walking in this direction?" he guessed.

Roman thought about trying to grin but reconsidered when he figured a toothy twist of a smile (or whatever these grotesque jaws could muster) would probably not be encouraging. Deceit's gloved fists clenched. He muttered something under his breath before walking the direction Roman had pointed him in. Roman watched as he started to leave, feeling antsy as he tried to sit still.

He'll come back, he told himself, watching as the trees swallowed the side. He'll bring the other sides. You won't be stuck like this.

 Janus... wasn't pissed. He was perfectly calm and composed. He wasn't baffled by the existence of the strange, half-dragon lady who had been in the middle of seemingly attacking Roman when Janus had been so overwhelmed with the sensation of lies that it had been impossible to ignore. He wasn't horrified that Thomas' Creativity was now a dragon and apparently stuck that way and chained like an animal. He certainly was not pissed that he was on his way to ask the light sides for help. The light sides, who, with their singular collective brain cell hated his guts and wouldn't listen to a single thing he'd say. He could not already hear Patton's uncomfortable laughter, or see Logan's unamused look, or feel Virgil's glare burning holes into the back of his head.

Janus wasn't a mess of mixed emotions.

Janus was handling the situation perfectly well.

Leaves crunched to his left. His head snapped around to glare at the bush that had rustled, as if daring something to lunge out at him. He— didn't quicken his pace. He wasn’t going to let this forest put him on edge. It was a lump of clustered trees; so what?

Still... He didn't like how dark the forest floor was, how the canopy far above blocked out all the sunlight. How sounds seemed to come from everywhere despite nothing behind visible. Somehow, he had a feeling the forest wasn't always like this.

He carefully stepped over a fallen log, eyeing the rotting wood. He frowned down at the mud that his foot quickly sunk into. A branch snap made him glance over his shoulder, staring into the dark trees.

He loved this.

 Roman was doing his best trying to get used to this new, awful form.

He'd shape shifted before; he knew how to adjust to bodies that weren't his own. This, however, was different. He wasn't human. He was long and four-legged and he had a pair of extra limbs sprouting from his back. What he'd give to be able to wear his white tunic and red sash and be able to properly hold his sword in perfectly normal, human-looking hands.

He'd maneuvered his horrible body around into a loose curl, resting his snout on his talons. He stared idly down at the grass beneath him.

Deceit hadn't come back yet. Roman wouldn't have blamed him if he'd found the red door to escape the Imagination and he'd left without a second thought.

He's been gone for ten minutes, Roman reminded himself in a voice that almost sounded like Logan. Be patient.

Movement in the corner of his eyes made him lift his head around to look to the forest edge. Deceit?

Among the treeline, a figure that looked like it could be a side shifted into view, parting from the dark trunks.

Roman lifted his head, warily eyeing the yellow and green armour the newcomer was wearing. Somehow, he immediately knew this wasn't any of Thomas' personality aspects. This... person felt different. Like looking at a cartoon and comparing it to the fabricated toy version. They seemed... off. Fake. Part of a simulation.

It took Roman possibly a little too long to figure that this was probably the dragon witch's doing.

He watched uneasily as the stranger moved from the forest and advanced toward him. Their outfit was honestly hideous; the shades of their jagged, messy armour clashed horrifically. Their face was twisted into an ugly scowl, scars rippling across pale skin, hatred etched into every crease. Another clue that this being was not of Roman’s fantasy world; even his conjured villains had never radiated such an unfavourable aura. Just looking at the advancing knight made Roman feel ugly and sick inside.

The thick chain clanked as Roman stood. He almost wanted to call out to the warrior, maybe to ask what they wanted, but he knew he'd get little passed a growl. God, he couldn’t wait to get his glorious voice back. He swore he'd never stop singing.

He eyed the weird wooden cylinder clutched in the knight's fist.

That doesn't look friendly, he noted.

Roman's concern steadily increased as the knight got closer and didn't show signs of stopping. He watched as the warrior reached the base of his talons and raised his gaze skyward to the dragon's snout. Roman stared back.

The knight raised the cylinder to his mouth. On instinct, Roman ducked, just as a small missile whizzed passed his right ear. He jerked away with a start. What the—

Something bounced off the scales of his neck. It didn't even hurt — it felt more like a fly bumping into him — but he studied the knight's weapon and realised with a start that it was a blowpipe. What kind of soldier brought a blowpipe to fight a dragon, Roman didn't know. He didn't exactly love the idea of one of those blow darts getting into one of his eyes, though.

The knight aimed and shot another dart, this one bouncing off the bridge of his snout.

Hastily, Roman scuttled back, glancing around at his options. Still feeling very much human and not at all feeling like the monster he currently was, Roman moved to the castle and without a second thought, clambered awkwardly atop one of the roofs. Curling himself around the intact tower, he frowned down at his attacker, mildly irked rather than feeling in any danger.

But then he looked into the fowl green eyes of the knight and his gut twisted, like it did whenever Thomas' praise would go to one of his friends rather than him, or Patton asked for Logan's help instead of his, or—

He gulped the best he could and leaned up, away from the knight, like he could pull himself from those feelings and thoughts.

But then the knight started forward once more, and Roman realised he wasn't going to be able to just idly avoid the armed stimulant.

After all, he was the dragon guarding an old castle. He knew all too well that facing the heroic knight come to slay him was part of the fantasy the witch had obviously created. (Why, he still wasn't sure.)

So, sending a mental bird to the dragon witch, he bared his teeth and glared down at the intruder, ready to tear them to pieces.

 When Deceit rose up into the mindscape commons, comically covered in leaves, sticks and possibly a few specks of mud, Logan clearly saw both Patton and Virgil attempt to cover their amusement, even if he knew Patton would deny taking enjoyment seeing Deceit in such a mess.

Logan could admit that the scaled side's predicament was incredibly out-of-character. However, he did not smile like Patton, nor cover up a snort with a coughing fit, like Virgil. He may have possibly cleared his throat of any bubbles of amusement that may have risen up, though.

"Deceit," he addressed, not making a move to stand from the couch. "I presume there is a well-meant reason that you are here?"

"Apart from coming to bother us," Virgil said. Logan doubted Deceit would have allowed the light sides to see him so disheveled unless something arguably important was out of the ordinary. Deceit didn't answer immediately, looking like he was attempting to compose himself before he spoke. He pointedly ignored Virgil's jab.

"Your prince seems to have gotten himself into a... mildly alarming predicament," he said finally, his calculating gaze scanning between the three light sides.

"What's happened?" Patton asked with round eyes.

Virgil, ever the untrusting pessimist, scoffed. "Probably nothing," he said with a roll of his eyes. "He's just trying to mess with us."

Deceit's eyebrows twitched downward an inch. Logan studied the Dark Side thoughtfully. He wasn't smirking self-satisfactorily like he usually was when he arrived, even when being caught red-handed with impersonating one of the others. His fists weren't clenched, but neither were they clasped together like normal. This Deceit was less like the recently exposed Patton impostor being introduced to Thomas for the first time, and more like the frustrated winner of the mock courtroom trial who had just found that they would still be going to the wedding despite his best efforts: annoyed, on edge and maybe a little uncertain. Deceit didn't strike Logan as the type to act inferior for the sake of a trick. Logan frowned.

"What makes you say this?" he asked slowly, ignoring the narrow-eyed look Virgil shot his way.

Deceit opened his mouth, then paused, closing it again.

"He can’t even tell us," Virgil pointed out, glaring at the scaled side.

"Because, of course, it's so easy to explain," Deceit retorted in a voice that should have sounded as smooth as ever, but Logan caught the rough, gravelly undertone that promised patience running thin.

"It’s okay, kiddo," Patton said, smiling at Anxiety.

"Roman is— in trouble," Deceit settled on. "I came to get you for his help."

"Is he okay?" Patton cried.

"Calm down, Patton," Logan said. "Panicking will not aid the situation."

"Oh, please," Virgil growled. He stood from the staircase, reached toward the television and summoned Roman.

Except there was an empty whoomph where Creativity should have risen up. Logan narrowed his eyes, watching Deceit closely. The side notorious for lying didn't look smug or superior, even when he looked over at Virgil as if to check to see if he was now believed. Thomas' anxiety was staring at the empty spot in front of the television, looking uneasy and maybe a little paler than usual.

"Deceit?" Patton was prompting, anxiously wringing his hands together. "Where's Roman?"

"In the Imagination," Deceit said. "Something's wrong with it."

"Okay, well — we'll go there and find him and help him fix it." Patton looked to Logan and Virgil. "Right?"

Virgil didn't reply; he was fiddling with the sleeves of his hoodie as he stared at the ground, his head ducked and eyes obscured by his hair.

"That seems optimal," Logan agreed. Patton bounced, momentarily distracted from the idea of Roman being in trouble due to Logan siding with him. "Virgil?" Logan coached carefully. "Are you in agreement with this?"

After a moment, Anxiety looked up, his dark eyes fixing on Deceit under a deeply furrowed brow. Deceit stared evenly back, looking uncharacteristically neutral and maybe a little gentle, like he was expecting and ready for the forthcoming rebuttal.

"Alright," said Virgil. "Let's go."

Roman tried not to feel squeamish as he knocked the bat-winged knight to the side, sending them flying to crash into the castle walls. They fell to the ground and didn't get up. Roman gulped, gingerly stepping over the bodies littering the courtyard and returned to his position, curled around the castle tower.

After killing the first knight that had attacked him, Roman had felt violently ill. He'd wondered in that moment if dragons could be sick and had quickly got his answer when he'd retreated to the back of the castle to pass up his last meal.

Roman had fought enemies in the Imagination before; he knew everything here was fake and fabricated and didn't hold any real world impact. He'd fought, captured and even killed villains and monsters in the Imagination but every time he had been himself — his normal self: just a regular-looking prince armed with his sword and maybe a plan or two. He'd never been terribly advantaged, and he’d liked that. It added to the thrill and challenge and adventure.

He'd also never been... the bad guy.

Roman highly doubted the dragon witch was thoughtful enough to create detailed backstories for these countless, strange knights she kept sending, so he wasn’t too worried about widowing or orphaning some poor conjured woman or child.

But he knew very well the situation she had cursed him into: rarely, if ever, were the castle-guarding dragons the sympathetic heroes who deserved and earned the happy endings. Even in his own worlds, that had never been a story aspect. Dragons symbolised greed and anger and evil.

The sun posted high in its blue abyss bore down on him, its warm rays heating his scales like cruel reminders. Roman shook his head as it burned onto his sensitive ear. He flickered it (and was thoroughly disturbed by the action of being able to move things like his ears) and then frowned at the small droplets of blood that splattered from the thin cut the first knight’s blow dart had inflicted. It stung, but no more than a paper cut.

His movement made him glance down at his shadow. His eyes traced the huge shape, running along the stretch of his snout, the curves of his horns, the lump of his folded wings.

Roman looked like a monster as much as he felt like one.

He closed his eyes, like ignoring the signs meant he could deny the awful truth.

The sound of clanking armour had become a sound Roman was too familiar with, so he knew he wasn’t mistaken when he heard the sound of another knight marching in his direction, ready to take on the big, bad, murderous dragon terrorising the kingdom.

He heaved a sigh and opened his eyes. He watched the knight tramp out from the treeline. This one was bigger than the others; more heavyset. Its armour was thicker, stronger. Roman could tell just by looking at it.

Looking at this knight didn’t make him feel sick or scared or upset like the other previous challengers had.

This one made him feel weak. Like his bones were brittle. Like he couldn’t hold his own weight. It made him feel strengthless. Fragile. Helpless.

This knight thought it could get to him like that? Like something as magnificent and terrifying and mighty as a dragon would be weak in front of a puny, insignificant human?

The knight made him feel weak.

And that made him angry.

Patton wasn't prone to anger. Even when upset or stressed or broken or in disagreement with the others, anger was never an emotion he indulged in. He didn't like how it roiled in his stomach and how it would boil out to scandal anyone in the vicinity.

Even so, Morality was struggling.

He didn't like this forest; how dark it was even if, according to Deceit, it was supposed to be daytime. How it felt like he was being watched from all angles. How bushes rustled and the tree trunks groaned. How the ground turned to slog at parts, like the forest had fused with a swamp.

He didn't like how unsettled Logan looked, like he felt the same way about their surroundings. It wasn't obvious, of course, but Patton noticed how he kept readjusting his tie despite not needing to worry about it being out of place. How his sharp eyes continued to subtly scan the trees, like he was searching for something.

He didn't like how distressed Virgil was. Patton knew he was anxious all the time, even if only mildly, but the signs that he was more aggravated than usual were there; the constant tugging on his sleeves, the darting of his eyes, the way he was jittery and hyper alert.

Patton supposed he was possibly glad about their Anxiety was still tame enough to be able to grumble and complain. He didn't like how most of the jabs were at Deceit, though. How he was muttering that it was Deceit's fault, or the way Deceit's patience was clearly starting to run dry, or how they were still in this forest and hadn't gotten out yet, or how they were here in the first place because Roman was in trouble but they didn't even know how because Deceit still hadn't told them anything—

"Patton?"

Morality looked up and ceased to wring his hands, realising he'd been fidgeting. Logan ducked his head to meet his eyes.

"Are you alright?"

Patton nodded, smiling. "Of course I am!" he chirped brightly. Logan held his gaze. "I'll be... even better as soon as we get out of this forest," he added, a little more honestly. Logan, sensing the truth in his voice, nodded once and straightened.

"I'm in agreement,” he said. "How much further do you estimate, Deceit?"

Ahead, Deceit glanced back. His eyebrows twitched.

"Surely not too far," Patton said.

"Do you even know where we're going?" Virgil muttered.

"It wasn't hard to find the exit door," Deceit responded sharply. "Similarly, it won't be hard to find the edge of the forest."

"If you’re not lying about that then why are we taking so long?" Virgil snapped back.

"If you would like to lead the way, it would be my absolute pleasure to appoint you as leader," Deceit hissed scathingly. "Where to, O' Great One?"

"Awe, come on, guys," Patton started.

"You're the one who's already supposedly been this direction," Virgil growled. "You should know the way."

"I do," Deceit said.

"Let's not fight—" Patton reached half-heartedly for Virgil.

"How do we know you haven't been leading us in circles?" Virgil demanded, prowling forward. "Where's the proof that we can trust you?"

"Guys—" Patton tried.

"It would be ideal if we could remained focused on the—"

"Proof?" Deceit cut Logan off, turning on Virgil. "What—"

A low rumble shook the ground as it thundered through the forest.

The following moments of silence were tense and completely void of noise. No one breathed. The distant sound of crashing, like a building collapsing made the group look ahead, like they would be able to see through the trees to the source of the noise.

"What was that?" Patton whispered, hushed.

Deceit straightened, looking at them almost smugly. "Proof," he said, turning and advancing with new purpose.

"Why are we going towards the scary noise?" Patton asked. He looked between Logan and Virgil, wondering if they were going to follow Deceit.

"You want out of the forest?" Deceit said up ahead. Hesitantly, Patton shuffled after him. "Surely a dragon and a collapsing castle would not be stationed among the dense trees of a forest."

Virgil's eyes narrowed. "Why would there be a dragon?"

"Why would the castle be collapsing?" Logan gripped the edge of his glasses, like he'd be able to activate the ability to see the answer.

Patton found it strange how Deceit first looked away, his face beginning to close off before he froze and glanced back at Logan, an almost alarmed light illuminating in his eyes. It was like he was reacting to the two different questions separately.

"I..." Deceit frowned at the ground before picking up his pace, almost rushing off.

"Hey-!" Virgil yelped, caught off guard. The three of them hurried after the liar.

Deceit pushed past a pair of bushes and sunlight broke through behind him. Patton squinted against it as he emerged — finally! — from the trees. The bright light shot into his skull, making his head ache and he realised how truly dark and gloomy it had been within the forest. As his eyes slowly adjusted and his vision cleared, he blinked at the beautiful landscape before him. The grass was so green! And the kills were so big and round! And the big, crumbling stone castle looked like old Celtic ruins and the peaceful, gorgeous scene was only wrecked by the huge, red dragon snarling and storming around the courtyard.

Wait.

Patton yelped as the dragon's lashing tail smashed into the side of the castle walls. They caved like the impact was equivalent to a wave crashing into a sand pile. Patton ducked behind Logan, peering over his shoulder.

"That's not Roman," Virgil said. Patton followed his gaze to the armed person who was insane enough to be fighting the dragon.

Virgil's right, he realised. They were too heavyset, too broad-shouldered. Even the way he moved wasn't as fast nor graceful as seeing Roman in action. Plus, Roman used a sword, not a big hammer.

Logan stepped forward, looking closely at something in the distant castle’s direction. "The... bodies," he ventured haltingly, "what are they— what's their purpose?"

"What?" Patton cried. Then he saw it, too.

The entire field beside the castle was littered with limp bodies. The grass beneath them was an awful red-brown. Patton quickly averted his gaze, unashamed to be hiding his face like a three-year-old would during a scary movie.

"If—"

"He's not there," Logan said before Virgil could even begin to choke out a weak threat for Deceit. They all looked at him. "Roman doesn't wear armour."

"He doesn't?" Patton asked.

"'Ruins his aesthetic'," Virgil muttered without bite.

"Yes." Logan sighed. “So that suggests that Roman is not here."

"He's here," Deceit said, gaze fixed on the battle ahead of them. "He's likely the biggest mobile thing in a three square mile radius."

A beat of silence.

"By the situation being complicated," Virgil said slowly, "you meant to say that Thomas' creativity is now a giant... raging... dragon."

Three pairs of eyes locked onto Deceit. The scaled side looked between them, oddly sheepishly.

"No..?" he tried.

A blur of purple smashed into Deceit, knocking him to the grass.

"What did you DO?" Virgil roared, his fists twisting into Deceit's collar.

"Virgil!" Patton yelped in alarm.

Anxiety shook the other side, none-too-gently. "TALK!"

"Virgil," Logan interjected. "I doubt Deceit has the power to morph other sides this... drastically." Virgil scowled at him, inhaling to argue. "And if he does, do you really believe that he would morph Roman, leave, then come back with us — all for some pointless mockery?"

Virgil glared down at Deceit. "What were you planning?" he demanded.

"My plan was to get your help!" Deceit snapped back.

"Guys, don't fight!" Patton cried, hurrying forward. He put his hand on Virgil's shoulder and the anxious side stilled. He slowly eased off Deceit but he didn’t let up his fierce stare.

"Ah."

The four sides whirled around. From the trees stalked a tall woman. She wasn't a side; she had to have been a part of the Imagination. "The three perfect, loyal, little light sides." Her hideous black eyes scanned them. Patton's grip on Virgil's shoulder tightened. "So." From her back, a pair of huge leathery wings unfurled, sketching out. They blocked out the sun, shadowing the huddled group and their pale faces.

"Who's getting disemboweled first?"

This knight was so stupid! It wasn't stabby, like a lot of the others, and it wasn't fast or even really scared. It stood in the same spot and just let the dragon attack it.

But he still couldn't land a hit. His swipes were knocked to the side. His tail tip was squished. His snout was bruised. He ran his tongue over the empty slot where one of his teeth had been bashed out. It was that stupid hammer! Blood trailed from his gum.

He snarled and took another snap at the insufferable knight, and this time, it did something he didn't expect: it dodged.

For a moment, the dragon was almost baffled.

Then the hammer smashed into his temple. He didn't even roar. A crumpled, broken whimper pressed past his teeth as he staggered to the side. Stars danced in his unison, blacking around the edges.

When his eyesight cleared, he was at ground level. Stupid knight.

He blinked. At the treeline were more knights. He hadn't even had a chance to eat this one!

He froze with a start. With them...

Dragon Witch!

Roman sprang up with a startled yelp.

The others! What were they doing here? That witch had better stay away from them or he'd—

The hammer came back down on his head. Apparently by 'springing up' he'd only manage to lift his head an inch off the ground.

He snorted dirt from his nose and made to get up but... he couldn't move. His body felt so heavy...

He groaned and tried to at least tilt his head. Hammer Knight was peering at him. Roman tried to bare his teeth but his lip only barely twitched. He was almost glad, anyway; it was too animalistic of a gesture. He wasn't ready to address how he'd lost himself for a time fighting this knight. He needed to be changed back, and soon.

At the trees, the Dragon Witch reached forward. She didn't move much more, but Patton clutched his head and fell to his knees with a pained cry.

No! Roman jerked against the ground, trying oh so hard to get up. Stand up! MOVE, stupid, useless legs! At the base of his head, Hammer Knight raised his weapon high above his head. Roman eyed it, feeling his irregularly large heart pounding against the Earth.

This was the part where the knight won. Where the mighty hero slayed the evil dragon and returned to his home a hero. Where he remained a hero for only a short time before attention moved on, and he was overtaken with envy and greed and fear and the pressure to remain a strong, valiant prince would slowly crush him like his skull threatening to implode—

The hammer fell just short of his head.

Roman blinked as Hammer Knight fell after it.

Just behind where the knight had previously been standing, Deceit glared at him.

"Do you think you just lie around all day?" Deceit said, sounding a little unhinged. It didn't help that he looked a little insane, too. His hat was gone, allowing the mess of his hair to display. His wide, mismatched eyes scanned constantly across Roman's snout, like he couldn't decide where to look. He looked awful, to be frank. Roman kind of wanted to tell him, but at the same time he was glad he couldn't speak.

"Stand up!" Deceit hissed. Roman frowned at him and raised his wing as far as he could to demonstrate that he couldn't move—

Except the wing shot straight up into the air. Both Roman and Deceit froze, the former from shock, the latter possibly trying to decipher what that translated to from Dragon.

"Deceit!"

At the edge of the forest, the Dragon Witch had pinned Virgil to the ground. Logan was leaning against a nearby tree trunk, looking dazed. Patton was desperately patting the grass as he searched for his missing, cracked glasses.

Roman took one look at this stupid manifestation torturing his friends, and he was on his feet.

Beside him, Deceit staggered to the side. Roman reared back, flared his wings, lashed his tail, and roared. It felt strange, he had to admit — like yelling, but so much more powerful.

But at that moment, it didn't really matter what it felt like.

The Dragon Witch had momentarily pulled from Virgil, her wide, black eyes fixed on him.

Virgil coughed and rubbed at his bruised neck with a grimace.

Roman filled with red, hot anger. How dare she? Claim to be stronger than him? Lure the others into this mess? Attack his family?

It took Roman a moment to realise it was more than just anger, and his chest was actually warm, and it was spreading through to his throat.

He was glad the Light Side had worked it out before him; they'd already scrambled well out of the way seconds before a plume of fire billowed from Roman's open jaws to engulf the shocked Dragon Witch.

Roman leaned back and puffed out his chest proudly.

A squeaked, "Woah," made him look down. At his talons, Patton gaped up at him, awed.

Crouching carefully, Roman lowered his head as much as he could in order to look Morality in the eyes. Patton chuckled unevenly, but he reached forward and settled his hands on either side of Roman's still-too-big snout.

"Well, kiddo," he said. His smile was a strange mix between uneasy and sympathetic. "You've certainly had a bit of a glow-up since we last saw you."

Roman meant for his snort to only be gentle, but the gush of air that exploded from his nose still blew Patton's hair back and made him blink, frazzled. Oops. Sorry, Padre.

Still, the self-proclaimed father of the group laughed, for real this time, and patted the side of Roman's snout good-naturedly. God, how Roman wanted to be small enough for Patton to comfortably pat his back or ruffle his hair.

"Ideally, he won't have that 'glow up' much longer." Logan stepped up beside Patton. Behind his glasses, his eyes were narrowed and studying Roman, like he was scrutinizing every scale. Roman, feeling oddly ashamed, looked at the ground.

"Anyone got any bright ideas?" Roman's heart leapt. Virgil padded over to Patton and Logan his dark eyes trained cautiously on Roman and his joy was almost immediately squashed. He really wished everyone could stop being scared of him. He looked down at his talons.

Well, he supposed dejectedly. I guess I can't blame them.

A stone bonked him on the snout. Wrinkling it to rid the strange stinging itch, he looked back up.

"Try and cheer up, Princey," Virgil said, a second pebble already in his hand as he tossed it back and forth. "We'll work out how to get you back to your fabulous self in no time." That was probably when Roman found that dragons were capable of smiles.

A sudden shriek made them look back. The Dragon Witch was standing, shaking herself. Her clothes were in tatters, and parts of her skin may have been burnt. She looked more pissed than hurt, though.

"Uh," squeaked Patton. "Light her on fire!" he called up to Roman.

"She was just swallowed with flames," Deceit pointed out, "and of course, that did so much damage."

"Sarcasm is not going to help us," Virgil snapped.

"How many more must die while you doubt yourself, Roman?" the witch called, gesturing to the field of dead knights. Roman didn't follow her gaze, but his stomach clenched tightly.

"Roman." Hesitantly, he looked down. Logan's gaze was steady. "You've mentioned a 'Dragon Witch' before," he said slowly, like he was explaining the steps to a particularly hard equation. "What is she?"

Roman squinted at him, uncomprehending. A... dragon... witch?

"No," Logan said, like he could hear his thoughts. "She's certainly not like us — but she's more than just a fabrication of the Imagination. She's strong enough not to be affected by us, by you..." His eyes narrowed. "So, what is she?"

Roman had a feeling Logan already knew, and he was just trying to coax the answer from Roman.

But why? For one, he couldn’t speak.

"And how would you beat her?" Logan prompted, ignoring the baffled looks the others were giving him. Roman was equally as bewildered, albeit for a different reason.

Beat? he thought. How long does he think I've been trying to beat that?

The witch was stalking for them, her face twisted with fury and tail lashing. He had to protect the others from her. But how? If a column of fire couldn’t get rid of her then what—?

The Dragon Witch's first fireball exploded against him.

Virgil's heart was in his throat as Roman crashed thunderously to the ground.

True panic began to settle in when he didn’t get back up.

So when he was knocked to the ground to dodge another fireball, Virgil hardly felt the breath that whooshed out of his lungs. He gripped a handful of his shirt, trying to ground himself in order to get his breathing under control.

When he could manage a full breath, he allowed himself to focus on his surroundings. Faintly, his brain registered the pair of dress shoes in front of him. Janus glanced down at him.

"Are you going to laze around, too?" he demanded. A distant cry pulled his attention forward again. He reached out and twisted his arm. Virgil followed the direction of his gesture. His eyes widened when he saw the Dragon Witch staggering away from Logan. She was covering her own mouth, looking alarmed and that much more angry.

"You can control her?" Virgil stood, a little shakily.

"Barely," Janus said through gritted teeth.

"I thought she wasn’t like us," Virgil said.

Janus' breath strained and he couldn't answer before the Dragon Witch ripped her hand from her mouth and he collapsed to his hands and knees with a gasp. Virgil crouched beside him, putting his hand on Janus' shoulder.

"I think," Janus said, swallowing as he recovered from the shock of having his Silencing bested, "that from the way Logan was talking... she's a part of Roman."

"What?" Alarm spiked through Virgil’s veins. "A part of him? How?"

Janus shook his head, unable to answer Virgil stood, watching as the witch knocked Patton to the side with a snarl.

"You're all pathetic!" she roared. The words echoed as Virgil racked his brain for a solution. Loyal, little Light Sides. They had nothing to fight her with. While you doubt yourself... With her in control of the Imagination, they couldn't summon anything or sink out — not that Virgil would even consider abandoning the others. All pathetic...

Virgil swallowed an anxious breath. Fight or flight. He darted around Janus and scooped up a sword from a fallen knight.

Before the Dragon Witch could pounce on a dazed Patton, a long silver blade sliced into one of her wings.

She didn't scream, or cry out in pain, or collapse, or really any of the things Virgil was hoping for. But her attention was drawn from Patton as she slowly turned to face Virgil. That was good enough. He pointed the sword at her challengingly and hoped that it wasn’t obvious that he had no idea how to wield it. She lunged at him, her taloned hands outstretched. Virgil ducked but the witch’s tail whipped around, smacking him in the face. As his vision blurred with involuntary tears. He felt his grip on the sword hilt disappear rather abruptly. He threw his arms up instinctively, but it was still a shock when white hot pain flared up along his forearms.

He stumbled back, losing his balance and falling with a graceless thud.

The Dragon Witch pounced after him. She curled her fist into his hair, keeping his head back as she trailed with jawline with a precariously sharp talon.

"How about I pull your teeth out, one by one?" she hissed.

No.

Virgil frowned. He hadn't thought that, had he? The witch had paused, like she'd heard it too. Virgil took this time to kick her as hard as he could in the stomach. She reared off of him with a cough. As Virgil darted to his feet, movement made him turn to watch as Roman rose to his full height, glowering down at the witch.

You will not hurt them. He stalked forward. Behind him, the giant chain links clamped to his back ankle clanked as it reached it full length. With a loud creak and then a bang, the chain snapped off his leg.

Snarling, the Dragon Witch conjured a fireball and launched it at the dragon.

Virgil's cry of fear died in this throat when Roman simply lifted his chin. The orb of flames crashed into his neck, then fizzled and dissipated. His scales weren't burnt. He hadn't even winced.

You are not as strong as us. The Dragon Witch took an anxious step backwards as Roman persisted. As me.

"You're WEAK!" the witch shrieked, flaring her wings.

A growl rumbled from Roman's throat. I am Thomas' Creativity. I am inventive and adventurous and as strong as he needs me to be. And that, he leaned down, his snout larger than her entire body, and almost smirked, makes me stronger than you.

With a screech, the witch summoned a long spear. Nonplussed, Roman straightened. Before the witch could attack, he blew out a swirling column of fire that enveloped her with a shriek.

Virgil watched warily but as the cloud of embers and smoke faded, the witch didn't move, like she'd been frozen. Then, slowly, she fell apart. Quite literally. Her body turned grey and began to crumble until she was nothing but a small clump of dust, piled atop the emerald-green grass.

The ground vibrated, and Virgil looked up just as Roman crumpled to the ground.

Too bright.

Light beamed against Roman's eyelids. He frowned against it, feeling groggy and tired.

Still, his senses were on high alert, so the moment an image of the Dragon Witch flashed through his mind, his eyes shot open. He moved to sit, but pressure on his shoulders kept him pinned. The only thing keeping him from fighting against the force was the fact that the grip was gentle and decidedly talon-less.

What made him freak out, however, was the moment he realised that he was lying flat on his back; that his shoulders were squared and no longer rounded strangely; that his skin felt weirdly soft and sensitive, and the sensation of clothes pressing against him was almost uncomfortable.

He blinked, squinting up at the bespectacled face above him.

"Good afternoon," Logan said dryly with a hint of a smile.

Roman tried for a grin. He lifted his head — for how heavy and clumsy he'd felt as a dragon, moving now should have been easier — but his head throbbed painfully and he relaxed again with a grimace. Instead of settling against itchy grass or hard rocks, the back of his head pressed against something smooth and thick, enough to cushion the ground. Roman twisted his neck to glance at it and smiled faintly.

The carefully folded caplet that was serving as a makeshift pillow was not the strangest thing that encompassed Roman, he thought, as he realised his sense of fashion had apparently rapidly depleted along with the dragon scales. He frowned down at the long purple hoodie that looked as if it had been roughly thrown on top of him.

"Forming from dragon to side was not accompanied by clothes, it seems," Logan explained. Heat dusted Roman's cheeks. He unconsciously gripped the sleeve of Virgil's hoodie a little tighter. He looked around and relaxed as, one by one, he spotted his friends. Patton moved to crouch beside Logan, smiling with tired but happy eyes. Virgil remained standing, looking out-of-character without his violet hoodie over his shoulders, but when Roman caught his gaze, he smirked, albeit weakly.

"What did I say?" he said with a shrug. "Normal in no time." Roman grinned back.

Deceit stood awkwardly off to the side. He looked strange, too, without his signature article of clothing, but he hadn’t left yet, and that was enough for Roman.

Closing his eyes and concentrating, Roman waved his hand and felt their surroundings shift. Sinking out, however, did no kindness to his aching head, so when he rose up with the others in the mindscape commons, all properly clothed once again, he made an unsteady bee-line for the couch.

He collapsed into it and ran a hand over his tired eyes, and a hand ran through his hair. He blinked lazily over at Patton.

"Someone's exhausted," Morality said with a smile. Roman hummed in response. Feeling as if he needed to double check he was back, in the mindscape, with everyone, Roman quickly scanned the room.

Logan was cleaning the mess of the floor. Roman vaguely wondered where all those leaves and twigs had come from. Virgil was crouched on the staircase, talking to a mildly surprised-looking Deceit. Anxiety's eyes were narrowed, but he wasn't showing any other signs that he was mad, like tense shoulders or clenched fists. He looked embarrassed, if anything, but Roman had no idea why.

They would have questions, Roman knew. When he woke up, they'd want to talk, and he wouldn't be able to dismiss them. He'd have to — Greek gods forbid — open up, because he'd gotten his family hurt and the least he could do for them was to offer an explanation.

But for now, they were okay, and so was he. Feeling it was safe to relax, Roman closed his eyes.

He was out like a light.

[sapphirewolf1122]

Take Note

Warning: Fic contains description of mild violence, murder and blood

Summary: Kirishima is hunting one night and doesn't expect the person he saves to start peppering him with a million questions on how to be a villain.

Word count: 2,716

Kirishima stood over the alley, peering down from his perch on top of one of the buildings. He’d been hunting this fucker for a while now, tailing him as he hunted his own prey. From what Kirishima had found out, this guy was really messed up. He liked to play with his victims before killing them. 

Though the redhead liked killing just as much as the next villain and did a fair amount of playing in his own time, he didn’t like to mix the two. Villains like this guy disgusted him; and to make things worse, he had dared to hunt on Kirishima’s turf! Just the thought made him growl as he continued to watch. 

The lowlife had been tailing his own victim for a while; they were just a little further ahead down the alley. They had no idea about what was going on. It seemed like they were engrossed with jotting something down in what Kirishima presumed was a notebook. He rolled his eyes. Why did victims always have to be so clueless? It almost made the hunt too easy.

Shaking his head, he returned his attention back to the trespasser. Well, now was as good a time as any. Besides the would-be victim, there was noone around to witness what he knew would be a fantastic kill. Almost a shame really…

With a sharp-toothed grin, Kirishima activated his quirk and leapt from the building. His aim was perfect. He landed on top of the other villain. He heard the crunch of bones as the man collapsed under his weight, screaming in pain as he did. 

Looking into his terrified eyes, Kirishima’s grin widened as he said, “Why hello there. Didn’t anyone ever tell you that it’s rude to fucking hunt on other people’s hunting grounds?”

The man tried to answer but Kirishima’s hand snapped out, grabbing ahold of his throat and cutting off his words. “Sssh...it’s okay, I am a forgiving man.”

He relished the brief flash of relief that his words had brought. Giving his victims false hope was always fun...huh...maybe he did like to play too…

“Yes...don’t worry. I’ll kill you quickly.” And with that, he began to squeeze with his hardened hand. He kept squeezing until he had sliced through the entire neck, not even flinching as blood spurted into his face. Good thing he had worn red today. 

After patting down the body for loot, Kirishima stood up and observed his work. It was his first time trying out that move; he’d had a theory and thought tonight might be a good night to try it out. It worked fairly well, though didn’t exactly make for a clean kill. 

As he was thinking, he suddenly caught a noise. It sounded like scratching...actually, the more he listened, the more it sounded like the sound of pen scratching against paper. It was coming from behind him…

Frowning, he turned around to see the person who the villain he had just killed had been following, sitting on the ground and...taking notes? The sight left him speechless and he just stood watching in perplexed silence for several moments. 

Finally, he grew impatient and cleared his throat loudly. Almost immediately, the feverish writing stopped and the would-be-victim’s head lifted. That’s when he looked into your eyes for the first time.

Usually, when Kirishima looked into someone’s eyes, he saw fear, even a little terror. He loved that look. He was not, however, used to seeing...curiosity. But that was the only word he could find to describe the way you were looking at him. Sure, there was some discomfort and sheepishness but behind that, definitely curiosity. 

As the two of you continued to look at each other, Kirishima couldn’t help feeling like he was being studied, examined even. After a few more moments, he finally snapped.

“What the hell are you doing?” 

This caused you to jump, dropping your notebook and pen onto the ground. As you scrambled to pick the items up, you said, “S-sorry. It’s not everyday I get to see a real villain in action. I wanted to capture every moment. Makes for excellent material….”

Your hand was reaching for the notebook but Kirishima got to it first. As you both straightened up, he flipped to the most recent page. You made an indignant noise but he held up his hand and gave you a look, effectively stopping you from saying anything. Kirishima couldn’t help but notice that you were actually quite attractive…

He also noticed that you were a foreigner, though your Japanese was pretty good. Tilting his head, he asked, “Where are you from?”

You seemed taken aback by that. “Um...America. Puerto Rico, more specifically.”

He raised his eyebrows. “What are you doing so far from home?”

You shrugged. “Needed to get away and travel. I was too comfortable where I was.”

“Hm, so you like being uncomfortable…” That just caused you to shrug again.

Shaking his head, Kirishima returned his attention to the notebook and read what you had written. When he had finished, he stood there for a while, just blinking at the page.

Finally, he looked up. “Did you seriously time how long it took for me to kill him?”

You shrugged. “Yeah, for accuracy purposes. By the way, how long do you think that would take on someone like me?”

“Did you want to find out?”

“I mean….the curious part of me wants to say yes...but then I wouldn’t be able to apply the information...I suppose I couldn’t really stop you though, could I?”

That made Kirshima smirk. “No, you couldn’t….you’re a little fucked up, aren’t you?”

You frowned at that. “I mean, yeah, I’m a writer. But you’re one to talk.” You gestured to the body behind him. He had to concede to that. 

“What’s your name?” he asked you.

“Not sure it’s a great idea to give my name to a powerful villain…”

“While I appreciate the compliment, I did just save your life. Reckon that should grant me a favor...or two.” Kirshima smirked again, making his meaning clear. 

“Giving you my name is a favor?” Or so he thought. 

“I figured it would be more polite before going any further.”

“Further where? Also, did you think I didn’t know that I was being tailed? I came out into the field for a reason...getting that creep to follow me was way too easy.”

Kirishima blanched. How could you be so smart and so oblivious at the same time?

“Might I ask why you chose such a messy way to kill? Couldn’t you have just snapped his neck? Seems like that would make it easier to hide the body...or do you not like to do that? How do you keep from getting caught?”

He was not prepared for this stream of questioning. “I…I was experimenting with an idea. And snapping necks is so mainstream...and boring…not manly at all. You do realize I could kill you too, right?”

This time you made a face. “Then what would be the point in saving me in the first place? You don’t seem like the type to waste time on a kill. Though if you were to kill me, how would you do it? How long do you think it would take for me to die?”

Kirishima scratched his head; he was losing control of this situation. “You know, that’s not usually what people ask me when they want to know what I would do to them.”

“What do you usually do to them?”

This time he just facepalmed himself. “Seriously?” He held out his arms. “Look at me. What do you think I did?”

“Hm...I assume you’re not referring to killing. Can you tell me about it? Could make for great material.”

Kirishima sighed. “How about I just show you?” He tried out the disarming smile that usually got them giggling but you just kept on going. 

“Really? That would be great! I am out for more experience, after all.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “Oh, I’ll give you an experience, all right.”

“Wow. Y’know, for a villain, you’re pretty nice.”

The chuckle turned into a scowl. “Don’t insult me like that.”

“What? I think it’s sweet that you’re helping me so much. Though, have you ever considered making your kills look less...murder-y?”

“What is it with you and taking the fun out of killing?”

“Well, I just think it would be fun for you to be able to mess with the police. Placing fake evidence and watching them run around like idiots.”

Kirishima’s jaw actually dropped. Maybe you could be of use to him… “How about we take this conversation over to my place?”

“Oooh, villain’s secret lair!”

“It’s just an apartment, don’t call it that.”

“Aw…”

~

A few months later.

After that first conversation, the two of you kept in touch. Kirishima had given you his contact information and you started regularly calling him with questions. Those questions would turn into whole conversations. And despite your initial obliviousness, there came a time when you started calling him for something else...you had been together ever since. 

Right now, you were sitting in front of your computer. Unfortunately, that was all you were doing. You had been staring at your screen for what felt like hours. 

At that moment, Kirishima walked in, breathing kind of heavily. 

“Hey babe, I’m home.”

You looked up, frowning at his disheveled appearance. “Did you go for a run?”

“You could say that...those cops came out of nowhere…”

You rolled yours eyes, returning your attention to the screen before you. Kirishima noted the lack of a reaction and the look on your face. That was the look you got when you were trying to work past a block. 

“Having trouble today?”

You made a grunting noise, flailing your arm at the laptop. “I’m trying to work out if this kill would actually work in the way I think it would. If it doesn’t, it would change the way the whole scene goes.”

Kirishima came up behind you, leaning down until his chin was touching your shoulder. You automatically leaned your head against his as he read over what you had written. 

“Hm...give me a few hours and I’ll find out…”

He straightened up and turned to go back out but you caught his hand. “Wait, now? But you just got home…”

“Yes, but this will bother you all night.”

“But I wanted to…”

He smirked. “To what?”

“Y’know…” You grabbed his shirt to pull him. He accommodated you by letting you pull him down and kiss him. 

You moaned into his mouth, causing him to let out a laugh. But to your frustration, he pulled away.

“Don’t worry, there’s someone I’ve had my eye on for a while...won’t take me too long. And when I get back, I'm going to test out a few more ideas of my own. All night.” He grinned widely, pulling you closer and gripping your ass tightly.

You gasped, blushing brightly. “F-fine...but you better hurry. And remember what I told you about avoiding the cops!”

He waved dismissively as he let go of you. “Yeah, yeah.”

Kirishima was almost out the door when you spoke up again. “Actually...can I watch today?”

That stopped him and he turned around with a grin on his face. Fuck, he was falling in love with you. 

~ 

A different night

You were nestled between a dumpster and an alley wall, pen and notebook in hand. You were so engrossed in the scene before you that the smell didn’t even bother you. You were pretty used to it at this point anyway.

Eijirou was stalking his latest prey. This guy had started to become a nuisance in the area, drawing the attention of the cops. So Eijirou had decided to get rid of the issue.

As you continued to watch, you saw his muscular body tense up, getting ready to leap. His body rippled slightly as he activated his hardening. You took note of each move as he went to work. Every movement was so precise and purposeful. Perfectly controlled, yet wild; you couldn’t look away.

The kill seemed to both take forever and last mere seconds. When he had finished, Ejirou turned to walk back towards you. He had a self-satisfied smirk on his face, which was spattered with blood. In fact, he was practically covered in it this time. A sliver of irritation ran through you.

And yet...another, strange, feeling also coursed through you. You watched as it gleamed in the dim light, moving with him as he continued to saunter over. You found yourself thinking about helping him wash the blood off...taking off his clothes...rubbing his—

“What?”

Ejirou’s voice pulled you out of your reverie. You blinked to find him standing in front of you, a questioning look on his face. 

“What?” you echoed. You couldn’t help but notice that your voice came out a little hoarse.

His eyebrows raised. “You were staring at me.”

Shaking your head and clearing your throat, you said, “No I wasn’t, I was just thinking.” You quickly ducked your head to look down at your notebook and started writing furiously. In an effort to distract him as you did, you scolded, “What did I tell you about being careful not to get blood on your clothes? That shit is a bitch to wash out.”

He didn’t answer for so long that you thought he wouldn’t. But then you felt a finger lift your chin up so that you were looking into his smirking face. With his head tilted slightly to the side, he said, “I remembered. I just know you like it when I’m messy.”

Before you could even think about responding, he leaned down and kissed you roughly. You didn’t even fight back, just leaning into the kiss and feeling as his sharp teeth grazed your lips. 

When he did finally pull away, you stared dazedly at him as he continued to smirk. After several moments, you shook your head and pulled away, a frown on your face. 

Turning to walk away, you mumbled, “How am I supposed to take proper notes when you keep distracting me with shit like that?”

Ejirou just laughed and followed you. 

~

You were sitting on the couch, your laptop in your lap. You had been writing for a while now. The story had developed quite a bit in the last several months. It had become about someone who falls in love with a serial killer. Yeah...the idea had just sort of come to you…

Ejirou sat on the other end of the couch, rubbing your feet, which were in his lap. He watched you as you worked. He loved watching you write. You got this look of concentration on your face, occasionally sticking out your tongue if you were really in the groove. It was adorable. 

After a few more moments of silence, you heard him say, “I’m kind of hungry.”

Though your head twitched in his direction and your eyebrows rose slightly, you remained focus on your task. “Mm...what are you in the mood for?”

“Hm...how about Puerto Rican food?”

You frown as you continue to type. “Is there a good place around here?”

“Uh huh...right here…”

You started to shake your head and say, “I don’t feel like cook—” But before you could finish the sentence, Ejirou had shut your laptop, giving you a sly smile. 

“Wait, no, I hadn’t saved that!”

But then he was kissing you and you couldn’t help but kiss back. As the kiss began to deepen, he started to lay you flat on the couch. Pulling back slightly, you mumbled, “You’re in a good mood today…”

“Mm...I had a particularly good hunt today...” He started trailing kisses down your neck, his hand sliding down to the hem of your pants. 

“Oh...you’ll have to...tell me about it…” Words were becoming hard. 

He had pulled your pants down and was now working on your panties. 

“After. My lips are going to be a little occupied for a while…”

You giggled as he went down. 

[jawnjendes]

i’m good at keeping my distance | shawn mendes

chapter 3/?, university au, shawn x goth oc

AN: its a filler. its also an insight to shawn’s thoughts on this situation. let me know if you want something specific to happen in this fic and ill consider it. let me know if you wanna be added/removed from the taglist

masterlist | playlist coming soon

About 4 months ago.

Shawn made a point to wake up before Ann every morning since her surgery. When she was still in the hospital, he wanted to make sure that he was the first thing she saw when she woke up, that she knew he wasn’t going to leave her side. As much as she tried to hide it, Ann was a little more than disgruntled about the whole situation. Shawn had to be there for her and really step it up.

Now, post-hospital and post-surgery, Shawn found himself waking up earlier than he had to. Some of that reasoning had to do with some rather annoying nightmares that haunted his sleep every night, but he wanted to be awake now anyway. Seven thirty seemed like a good time to start the day. Shawn would go to the gym on days like these, but he wouldn’t dare leave Ann by herself with fresh cuts on her body. She couldn’t even sit up on her own.

During the time Shawn had by himself, he really didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t attempt to prepare a nice breakfast because Ann’s current diet was very strict and limited. It really pained him to see her so upset about eating the same rice, soup, or pasta everyday. It sucked to see her lack in other nutrients. She was supposed to be getting better, but she was just dropping weight like flies. Anyway, her mother prepared enough white rice to last them a lifetime during her visit the other week, so it’s not like they were going hungry here.

He couldn’t play guitar or sing either during this alone time. He couldn’t disturb Ann’s much needed rest. Not to mention, the makeshift recording studio in the spare room was full to the brim with her boxes. Shawn wanted to unpack them for her. In fact, he stood in front of that doorway every morning, looking at all of the cardboard boxes and trying not to look through all of them. He glumly remembered Ann reminding him that this arrangement was only temporary. Only 3 months of living together, and then she would move back to campus. Apparently, that was the only option.

He really didn’t understand her sometimes, but he loved her anyway.

The sound of Ann’s phone alarm went off at ten thirty every day, and each day, Shawn went back into the room to see her. He usually stood by the doorway and waited for the loud Little Mix song to cut off before going in, but it was on five seconds longer than normal. Ann was always quick to shut off her alarm, no matter how deeply she was sleeping.

Five measly little seconds was enough to make Shawn practically burst through the door, his heart and mind going from zero to a hundred. He saw Ann lying on the bed, just like she had fallen asleep last night. His eyes quickly scanned her body, looking for any sign of… well, whatever he saw in his dreams last night. But there was no blood, no hint of pain on Ann’s thin face. Definitely no screaming. She lied on her back, arms at her side, her head turned and staring out the window.

Her phone was still blaring the alarm song, so Shawn went over and grabbed it off the nightstand. He dismissed the sound and peered down at his girlfriend. She made no noise or movement. She didn’t acknowledge Shawn or the sudden silence in the room.

“Morning,” he greeted, reaching for her hand.

Upon feeling their skin touch, Ann moved her hand to her belly. She remained staring out the window.

Confused, Shawn walked around to the other side of the bed to look at her face. Ann simply turned her head to the opposite side of the room. What the hell?

“Honey, what’s wrong?” Shawn gently asked, crawling onto the empty space on the bed. He moved strands of hair behind her ear, only for her to tense her shoulder.

A certain strain pulled at his heartstrings as it finally dawned on him. Ann usually played video games when she was feeling this way, but she couldn’t get up and do that. On top of that, she was physically stoic from her surgery, and she couldn’t stay like that. She spent enough time lying in bed the last two weeks, and she would hardly participate in doing the minor muscle exercises as instructed by the nurse.

“Let’s go for a walk, eh?” Shawn suggested, hopping off the mattress and moving to Ann’s side of the bed. “Come on, we need to get you up and moving.”

He gave Ann a few seconds to reach for her hands herself, but she remained still. With a heavy sigh, Shawn bent down to wrap his arms around her waist, not liking this anymore than she did. A couple of days ago, Ann complained that she felt like a helpless child when she had to get out of bed or stand up from the couch. Of course, Shawn hated every moment his Ann wasn’t happy, but there was no choice here. He barely got one arm under her waist, but then he felt a pressure on his stomach. “Oh…”

Ann didn’t hit him, she only placed her fist between herself and the guy who only wanted to help her. Shawn easily could have moved her arm away and forcibly sat her up, but the message was clear. Ann did not want to be bothered today.

“You need to get up,” Shawn tried again in a weak voice, still hovering over her. He moved her hair from her neck and cupped her face. “Please…”

Her empty brown eyes flickered with something at the touch. It was almost like she was actually awake now. Maybe she remembered how comforting it was to be held like this. She finally met Shawn’s gaze, slowly bringing her hand up to close around his wrist.

Shawn let out a small sigh of relief, only to be disappointed again. Ann pushed his hand away and resumed staring out the window. The shattering of his heart could almost be heard in the tense room. He was at a loss here.

“Fine,” he said coldly, turning on his heel. “It’s your health, not mine.”

Present day.

“So did you end up getting her out of bed?” asked Callie as she wrote on her clipboard.

“Yes,” Shawn replied, staring down at the tiny coffee table between him and the shrink. “I called my mom, because I didn’t know what else to do. Ann listened to her with no hesitation.”

“It’s hard isn’t it?” Callie said. “It’s very hard trying to help someone who doesn’t want to be helped. It just feels like they’re against you.”

Shawn nodded. He liked this woman, he liked therapy. He looked into her wise, green eyes and knew he could spill everything out no matter how messy it was. “I thought I would be able to do more for her after she was out of the hospital, but it just felt like I was never doing enough. I mean, she came around, and not everyday was like that one. It just really hurt when she got moody and quiet.”

Callie pushed a strand of blonde hair out of her face as she jotted down more notes. “Of course it hurts, she’s your girlfriend. It’s never easy seeing the one you love be in so much pain. And it’s just as hard for you, because you witnessed her going into shock.”

There wasn’t anything like the fear that struck Shawn’s chest on that day. He didn’t even have the words to describe the sight of his Annalise slipping out of reality. It was a real life nightmare, and it was a nightmare that still haunted his sleep. At least in the real world, she was still alive.

He tells the shrink just as much.

“Yes, she is alive and well now,” Callie told him. “That being said, as traumatic as it was for you see her go through all of this, it’s important to remember that it’s just as traumatic for her as well. I’m not diagnosing her with anything - I haven’t seen her in ages - but her silence and moodiness could allude to things she may still be processing.”

That wasn’t hard to figure out. Shawn knew Ann was dark and twisty sometimes, but she had been doing well with letting go of certain things prior to her hospital stay. After that, it was like something had changed in her. Something changed in Shawn too, but it was more obvious since he was yelling in his sleep. He brought that up to Callie.

“Maybe two or three times a week, I sleep normally. I still have alarms set for when the terrors come, and I usually wake up before anything can happen. But for the most part, I still have bad dreams.”

“Well, it’s an improvement. You made a lot of progress in the last three months. Very fast progress, if you ask me. You’re doing well, Shawn.” Callie smiled, emphasizing the laugh lines on the corners of her eyes.

It was true because Shawn wasn’t as anxious to fall asleep anymore. If he was, he popped a melatonin to take the edge off. He knew how to combat his nightmares, both in sleep and through talk therapy. Really, the only thing bothering him now was the separation thing.

He really didn’t understand Ann’s thought process sometimes.

There wasn’t any time to get into it this session, though. Shawn thanked Callie like he did every week and left her office. There was always a heavy weight pressing on his chest when he finished therapy, but that’s what came with practically stealing your girlfriend’s therapist. It’s also  what came with processing the not-so-pleasant feelings. Besides, it was helping Shawn crank out a new song.

The unwritten chords of this song were stuck in his head as he drove back to his place. It was kind of annoying that Shawn couldn’t pull this song up on his phone and blast it through the speakers. He would be able to soon enough, though.

Shawn got back to his place with the intention of picking up his guitar and playing to his heart’s content, but upon entering his room, he got a little distracted. His eyes trailed down to a piece of black lace on the floor. The pile was too large to be underwear, but it still made Shawn blush. He stepped over and picked up the material, unfolding it. Ann would surely miss her long lace cardigan, she’d have to come back for it.

She hadn’t spoken to him since the check in, and that was quite the low blow. Just remembering how it all went down burned out the yearning and caused him to drop the cardigan and kick it under the bed. Ann really had the nerve to preach about not leaving after sex, and look what she had done. She was so goddamn afraid that Shawn was just using her for the entirety of their relationship, and even explicitly accused him of doing so a few times. Then, she turned around and left him in the dust. She did the one thing she was afraid of happening to herself. Worst of all, she did it to someone who actually gives a fuck about her.

Shawn certainly understood why she never wanted him to go. It fucking sucks waking up alone after you thought everything was okay. It fucking sucks being played like that.

He took a deep breath and went to pick up the cardigan again. He could still smell Ann on the fabric, and it made him miss her. Lying down on the bed, he put the lace over his face and stayed like that for a moment. Then, he sat up again and pulled his phone out of his pocket, typing out an impulsive text and already knowing how it was going to go.

“Can I see you again?”

God, it felt like he was texting a former one night stand. This was his fucking girlfriend, how did it get so messy and complicated? Shawn scrolled backwards in their conversation, shaking his head at all the most recent texts he sent that she ignored. He went further back, pausing at a conversation from July 15.

Shawn couldn’t remember what brain fart caused him to send, “Would u still love me if i gave myself those super thin and angry goth eyebrows??”

“No.” Ann was always short with her texts.

“Would you still love me if a became a goth too?”

“No.”

Shawn sent her a sad face.

“Lol ily you idiot. you’re cute sometimes.”

“Im cute all the time!! I’m babey remember?”

“I never should have called you babey. look at you. you’re too powerful now.”

He scrolled a little further to July 28. Shawn sent a picture of purple pansies he had been arranging for work. “These also come in black, did you know? 😊”

Ann replied with one word: “Cute.” The next text was sent an hour later. “I’m off early n getting food. What you wanna eat bb”

Shawn simply sent back, “😏”

The next set of texts were on August 8. Ann had sent a selfie that still made Shawn’s heart race. It was a selfie, and she had made her low cut blouse the center of attention. “Missing you birthday boy🖤"

He had sent back a mirror selfie in just his briefs. Shawn would have cringed at the self from just over a month ago, but it’s what got Ann to leave work early. He almost smiled, remembering just how lucky he got that day. In the same moment, Shawn recalled how unlucky they both were the very next day, and the heavy feeling in his chest came back.

He always tried to be his best for Ann, because she deserved nothing but the absolute best. But he’s lied to her before, he’s hurt her, he took her therapist away from her, and then he wasn’t there for her. He was surprised that Ann only wanted a break instead of a breakup. There was still a part of him deep down that was terrified she was going to call it quits altogether. It could be any day now, and as much as Shawn tried to prepare himself for that, he really didn’t know what he would do if it got to that point. He’s only just realized he was past the “I love you” and delving into the “I’m so in love you” part of things. Maybe Ann didn’t feel the same way...

Suddenly, his phone dinged, and an arrow pointed down, indicating a new message. His heart pounding, Shawn rapidly scrolled back down and breathed out, a tiny smile creeping up the corners of his mouth.

“Check in is every 2 weeks babe😘”

Honestly, he was just glad he wasn’t left on read again. He was even more glad that the check in had a whole other meaning now too.

~

Annalise had never been so conflicted in her life. In the past, she only ever felt shame over constantly having meaningless sex with people she knew were not good for her. But Shawn was good. He was kind and radiant and also her fucking boyfriend. Somehow, Annalise managed to keep her own boyfriend strung along during their separation.

It wasn’t one of their rules, but hooking up wasn’t supposed to happen. This was a separation. Not a break up, not a break. Separation. Technically, they weren’t supposed to text as much as they were, but Shawn had refused to participate if he couldn’t contact her at all, so they made it a rule: Don’t be a stranger. She allowed him to text her, but she did not allow herself to give a proper reply.

Another rule was No dates. That was for obvious reasons. The same goes for No seeing other people.

The Check in every 2 weeks rule was… disastrous. But also so, so good. If she wasn’t so busy, Annalise would have been at Shawn’s place more often.

Thankfully, she could keep herself busy with work, even though her hours were cut due to the semester starting. School was more demanding, given that she had to repeat Biology class and get more of her credits through electives like Abnormal Psych and Adolescent Psych. She didn’t see Shawn at the science building anymore, maybe he had a schedule change - but she did see his newest tiny friend. This tiny friend joined a club, and Annalise found out when she entered one of the rooms in the communications building on a Wednesday evening.

Her stomach dropped down to her butt as she saw Alessia sitting between Jared and Patrick, already deep in a conversation with them, the other Frats listening to whatever she had to say. She probably got the idea to join the club after she talked with Patrick that one time, and Annalise didn’t really know how to feel about that. Didn’t this girl have every single class with Shawn? What if he just waltzed in and made himself part of the club too?

Bratty as it seems, this was Annalise’s thing. Gaming was her time away from the world, despite playing with other people most of the time.

Annalise kept herself composed as she joined the group, taking the seat next to Patrick like always, nodding her head as a greeting. She noticed Alessia look at her, but nothing was said. Annalise was the last one to join, so the meeting began.

“Okay, welcome everyone,” Josh greeted, fixing the collar on his white polo shirt. “As you can see, we have a new member. Alex, right?”

“Alessia,” she corrected.

Josh hummed. “My apologies. So what games do you play?”

“Uh… I just started Sonic Forces,” she replied, offering a smile.

Paul chuckled. “Anything else? Fortnite? Zelda? Apex?”

Here we go. The Nice Guys were doing it again. Annalise rolled her eyes. And they wondered why more girls wouldn’t join the club.

“Well, I’m still new to the video game world,” Alessia said, “I haven’t really played much of anything. I have played a Zelda game, though.”

“Fair enough,” Josh said, though he seemed a bit patronizing. “Was it Breath of the Wild? That’s what everyone plays, while there’s so many other Zelda games out there.”

“Uh… yeah. I started that on the PC.”

Josh and Paul shared a look, like they were both amused by something. The rest of the guys were silent.

“So how far did you get in the game? Got the Paraglider?” Paul asked her.

“Did you get off the plateau?” Josh added. “Do you even know the Legend of Zelda timeline and where that game lies?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. Annalise had enough of this.

“Leave her alone,” she snapped, leaning forward in her seat to properly look at the two boys. “Don’t act like you weren’t novices at one point! You’re not superior for not liking the mainstream games everyone else does. All you guys play is Fortnite, which uh, everyone plays! Oh, and both Sonic Forces and Breath of the Wild were fucking awesome games! Stop trying to make her feel bad for being in the club!”

It was silent. The Frats had nothing to say on the topic. Patrick merely slouched in his seat, but he lightly nodded at everyone Annalise had said. Alessia gave her a weak smile and a nod of gratitude. No, Annalise wasn’t exactly a fan of hers, but she lived to defend other women in situations like these.

Josh, now flushed with red, changed the subject to the Bart adventure that was yet to come. He also brought up the Fortnite idea again, to which most of the group denied. At this point, it was done out of spite.

Annalise was the first one out the door as soon as the meeting ended. She had her phone in hand, clearing three new messages she had received from Shawn as she walked down the steps, through the lobby, and out onto the walkway. She didn’t see someone follow her, so she jumped when a hand landed on her upper arm.

“Oh, shit!” she cursed, thrashing her arm away from the touch. She turned around to find the culprit, clutching her book bag to her body.

It was only Alessia, who had a frantic, apologetic look on her face. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you!”

Annalise took in a slow breath, composing herself. “You’re good, it’s all good. Um, what’s up?”

“Can I walk with you?” she asked, playing with the straps on her backpack.

“Sure.”

The two girls strolled down the walkway in the dark. Annalise was weary for reasons not having to do with being alone and vulnerable outside after dark. Would it be weird to casually bust out her pocket knife and hide it in her sleeve?

“So, thanks for what you said back there,” Alessia began. “I didn’t know there was a pop quiz for new club members.”

“Josh and Paul are assholes sometimes,” Annalise replied meekly. “They did the same thing to me when I joined, and nobody stood up for me.”

“Well, I appreciate it. Especially because I know you don’t like me.”

Annalise scrunched her brow. She shouldn’t have been surprised at that statement because it wasn’t the first time she had heard something like that. Her naturally neutral face and dark appearance seemed to ward off others, and she wasn’t one for constantly smiling unless she was working. She was by no means a ray of sunshine upon first impressions, or even after that. Besides, she had only spoken to this girl once in her life.

But she’s spoken to Shawn, and who knows what he said about his not-girlfriend.

“What makes you think I don’t like you?” she asked, slowing her steps.

Alessia hesitated. “Uh… ‘cause I’m always around your mans?”

“Is that a question, or are you telling me?”

“Uh, no, I just thought-”

“He has a lot of friends, of course he does. Have you met him? He’s kind and wonderful, of course people like him! Anyway, none of his friends are exactly threatening, you included. I just don’t know you, my dear.”

Alessia nodded, her face flushing. “Oh, right. ‘Cause I’m new and all.” She chuckled nervously. “I’m sorry, I just didn’t want you getting the wrong idea. Shawn and I are singing and writing together, I wasn’t sure if that was a problem for you.”

What kind of girl does she think Annalise is? What kind of jealous, insecure girlfriend did Shawn make her out to be? Why would Alessia bring up Shawn if not to dangle him in his not-girlfriend’s face? Why would she plant such a seed in her head like that?

Annalise finally stopped in her tracks and turned to the much shorter girl. She practically towered over her thanks to her platform sneakers. Alessia’s eyes were wide, visibly nervous.

“Listen, I typically don’t have any reason to believe my boyfriend would try anything he’s not supposed to. I trust him, or whatever. You, on the other hand… It’s like I said, I don’t know you. All I ask is that you do not give me any reason to be suspicious.”

Alessia gulped and nodded. “That’s, that’s what I was trying-”

Annalise held up a finger to stop her. “No, no. People who are doing suspicious things are the ones who say they’re not doing any suspicious things.”

“I, I was telling you the truth! I would never-”

“Well, I don’t know you! So you could be telling the truth, but you could also be lying to throw me off. Anyway, if I find out something suspicious is going on…” Annalise paused. Why? She was being just a little dramatic. “I’m killing Shawn because he’s the one in a relationship.”

The two pairs of eyes remained in a staredown until Alessia took a step back and looked at her feet. The corner of Annalise’s mouth twitched, feeling triumph for a fleeting moment. The silence was just long enough to make her realize just how fucking crazy she went.

“Don’t look so scared,” she said, keeping up the intimidating facade. “You won’t be the one dying. Besides, I’m joking anyway. I don’t think there’s anything suspicious happening. You seem like an okay person.”

Annalise just knew that this girl was going to run and tell Shawn about this little conversation. Maybe that would show him that she was still into this… as if Annalise didn’t fuck him a few days ago.

_______

taglist: @normalcyisoverrated-beyou @ilsolee @mendesromano @1-800-khalid-mendussy @kitykatnumber @strangerliaa @iloveshawnieboi @poppyshawn @shawnsunflower @shawnvvmendes @shawmndes @calyumthomas @havethetimeeofyourlifee @yourdeflightfullyleft @wronglanemendes

[ohprettyweeper-moved]

The Last Bandito

Part Two: Dream a Little Dream

Masterlist

Chapter Summary: Quinn, Faylinn, and Josh all have dreams that affect them. Tyler adjusts to his new life, and Ildri encourages her cousin not to continue with her novel. Warnings: Mentions of smearing and brainwashing, mentions of murder. Word Count: 1550 A/N: This series was borne of this picture; it started small and the idea just grew from there. It’s way outside of my usual fic box, so I am crossing my fingers that everyone who reads it can enjoy it. @adversaryproject, thank you for always having my back, and for believing that I could do something like this and do it justice. I hope I live up to your hopes! Oh - the bolded bits are for prompts from a board I have on Pinterest specifically for this series. 

Quinn Walsh shot up in bed, sweating and trying to catch her breath. The nightmares came often, but this one had been filled with so much blood and gore, it shook her to the bone. 

Throwing the blankets back, she threw her legs to the side and went for a glass of water and the pills that would erase the nightmare from her memories for the rest of the night. Looking out the window over the kitchen sink, she caught her reflection; even in the dim echo of her appearance, Quinn could see that the lack of sleep was catching up with her. 

Although she didn’t want to re-live the nightmare, and had already taken her sleeping pill, she decided to do what her therapist had suggested and jot down the major points of the nightmare before going back to bed. As Quinn wrote, she remembered more and more, until a desk calendar in the background of her dream screamed out the date from her memories. 

“My birthday,” she sighed, shoving the journal away and running a hand through the sweaty strands of her thick, strawberry blonde hair. 

This had been going on for close to eight years now and, try as she might to quell the thirst, nothing Quinn had done could sate the monster within her; that creature still showed her ugly, murderous face once every season. 

She tried for another hour to fall back asleep, but it was to no avail. As the sun peeked over the horizon and shed light on New Dema, Quinn threw back the covers and began to prepare for her day. 

When he woke up on that stone slab, the sanctuary was empty. His blood had been collected and cleaned from the floor, and not even one Bishop stood by to guide him into this new life. 

He sat up slow, trying to manage the rushing sensation in his brain. He blinked a few times, adjusting to the clearer vision that let him see every minute detail in his surroundings. The age of the temple became all the more clear with dust and cracks and crevices now apparent. 

The rushing sensation subsided, so he stepped onto the ground, feeling more stable, than he remembered feeling before — physically, anyway. With his newfound balance, he stepped away from the altar and took some tentative steps toward the door. The door opened, and a familiar face stood on the steps. 

“What happened to me?” he asked his friend when they both stood on the steps outside of the temple. 

His friend didn’t hesitate or hold back. “The Bishops smeared you, killed you, then changed you.”

It all made sense now. The clear vision, the stable balance. The overwhelming sense of being. 

“I’m a Heathen.” He said it out loud, as though he had never spoken the word before. 

Josh nodded. “Yeah, Tyler. You’re a Heathen. C’mon, I’ll help you move your stuff to where the rest of us stay.”

Faylinn was more than pleased with how her novel was coming along. She worked on it day and night, took a personal day from work and kept at it into the next day. Ildri had come and gone but Faylinn hardly noticed. 

Sometime after lunch, she decided it was time to take a break. She fixed herself a light salad, then settled on the couch. She stared out the bay window, willing the view of Old Dema to continue feeding her ideas and words and pages. 

When she woke, she was in Old Dema. Her hands were tied behind her back and she was blindfolded. Horse hooves hit the concrete ground around here; they weren’t galloping but walking at an easy pace. Faylinn wanted to stop and take the blindfold off, get her bearings, but a hand gripping her arm kept her moving forward. 

A door creaked open, and Faylinn was led through it. The hand holding her arm seated her on a hard bench, then removed the blindfold. She saw now nine figures walking in a line toward the front of what appeared to be some kind of temple. They were wearing red, hooded capes, and their faces were painted white and black underneath thin veils of some mesh-like material. 

The Bishops, Faylinn thought to herself. 

She looked around the temple to see eight others sitting on the wooden benches, just as she was. All of them looked as confused and scared as Faylinn felt. 

The Bishops assembled in a semi-circle at the altar; for half of a second, silence reigned and time stood still. Then, the timeless men moved in unison, chanting words Faylinn did not understand. 

Tse spohady, yaki vy budget trymaty. 

The phrase was repeated nine times before the Bishops once again formed a line down the aisle that separated the two sections of benches. Each Bishop approached the human he had brought here until the Bishop was within arm’s reach of Old Dema’s new citizen. 

Cold fear gripped every fiber of Faylinn’s being. Her nerves fired off, telling her to run or scream or do something. But the stare of the Bishop’s eyes into hers held her in place, willing her to stay put. His hands reached out to her, relaxed but purposeful. The Bishop placed one hand on either side of her neck; Faylinn stopped breathing. His thick fingers pulled black lines over her skin, and the fear began to slip away. 

Josh woke with a start. The most real dream he had experienced in quiet some time, a memory of the day he had been brought to Old Dema. Of the Bishops doling out that first smearing and so easily convincing him of everything they wanted him to believe. He had not experienced this memory before, even when he tried. 

But instead of himself sitting there on that bench, it was a woman. He did not know her, but the moment the dream brought her image into his mind, he wanted to know her. How had she appeared in his dream? If anyone ever came to him while he slept, it was the inhabitants of Old Dema, Bishops included. 

He threw his legs over the one-person cot that served as his bed, set his elbows on his knees, and ran his fingers through his sweaty hair. He worried that this may be some strange side effect of the serum, and for fear of what the Bishops would do with him if that were the case, Josh decided then and there to keep this dream to himself. 

Ildri read over the words on the screen while Faylinn paced nervously behind her. This was some of the best work of her cousin’s Ildri had read, but Faylinn was treading dangerous ground with this novel. 

“It’s amazing, Fay. Really.”

Faylinn clapped her hands excitedly and dropped to the couch. “You really think so?”

“It is. The smearing, the way the come for people in the middle of the night … it’s like you’ve seen it before.”

“I have,” Faylinn sighed. “I dreamed about it this afternoon. When I woke up, I put it into words. I feel so good about this, Ildri. I’ve been waiting for months for the perfect idea for my novel and now I’ve found it and it’s flowing so easily, it’s almost effortless.”

Ildri stood from the desk chair and waited a few seconds before delivering her next statement. She didn’t want to hurt Faylinn, but her cousin’s safety was important to her. 

“I don’t think you should keep writing it.” 

Faylinn’s happy expression fell. “What? But I thought …”

“It’s amazing work, but you’re playing with fire, writing about Old Dema. The Bishops — they have weird ways about knowing about these things. We know the basics about the old ways so that we can avoid being taken, but you’re revealing details here that, true or not, were never meant to be revealed.”

“Oh please,” Faylinn said, rolling her eyes. 

“Faylinn,” Ildri said sternly, “No good can come from this.”

“Maybe from your perspective. But for me, this is my big break. I know it is. I’m sorry that you can’t see it. You’ve got to stop living in the past — we all do — or the Bishops will control us forever, and the purpose of New Dema won’t be realized. We’ve been outside of the wall for centuries, but here we are, still governing our lives but what they do. Not me, not anymore.”

Ildri watched her cousin storm away to her part of the apartment, leaving Ildri at the computer, trying to figure out how she was going to make Faylinn understand the hazards in publishing a book of this nature. 

As she meandered to the opposite part of the apartment, the part that was hers and only hers, Ildri thought over this conundrum. There was only so much about her job that she could share; her position as an assistant for New Dema’s highest government officials kept her in the know more than most but also kept her in high confidence. 

Without a solution to convince Faylinn of the importance of not continuing on and publishing her novel, Ildri got up to begin cooking dinner for the both of them, instead focusing on apologizing for perhaps making Faylinn feel Ildri did not support her. 

[the-progress-bar]

You Wore Out a Path Recap

I haven’t written something this long in … well, I don’t want to check.

The Inception

I don’t remember where the idea for this came from, specifically. I wrote the beginning of the first chapter for Camp NaNoWriMo, along with a whole slew of other FE:A material. It turns out that I’m extremely bad at writing linear narratives, given the absolute mess and if you say goodbye is to straighten out and more casually in the boy across the hall.

Chapter One

The fairy tale was written first actually. I filled in around its scene breaks with Robin being in a Bad Mental State™ as a way to carry this. weird, meandering fairy tale. Also, there’s a much more comedic story in the works that involves Grima and Robin again and I wanted to do something more serious on that vein at the same time.

He strikes to the south east. For some reason, Donnel didn’t stay in the armed forces as Robin hoped but went back home for good.

Donnel! I love Donnel for the sheer comedy of some country boy latching onto the Shepherds, which is otherwise comprised of nobles, and him being able to take on a whole battlefield by himself, leaving the rest in the dust. But he doesn’t stay in Ylisstol and Robin and I are forever sad over that lost potential.

Thunder crumbles around the spirit. They press a stone into the prince’s hand and sighs.

Here’s an instance where it’s clear that I didn’t outline the first chapter at all nor was I thinking about how the pieces fit if I expanded the story. This stone was supposed to do your normal fairy tale shenaniganry with like. Blessings and shielding and magical properties. Then I completely lost that vein and only left the part in where spirit!Robin basically gives Chrom, the prince, their heart. Good job, me. This constantly bothers me, but I also don’t have the motivation to rewrite this bit.

He freezes at Frederick’s stare.

I sincerely love Frederick for reasons that are spoilers for a giant FE:A fic I have in the works, but he’s also so, so fun to wind up.

Chapter Two

So, now I had to actually sit down and outline how this story went. Just a bunch of sentences jotted down, but enough to make me realize how bizarre the geography in this game is. Like, what even is going on with the story’s timeline? Do you know how long it takes to move an army over a continent, when its fastest mode of transportation are horses? I never get how they’re able to run from Plegia over to Mount Prism, then back to the opposite side of the continent and onto Grima’s back. Did Grima just wait for Chrom and co. to arrive? Like, they’re extra enough, but Nintendo, come on.

Let me just say, the FE:A world map has been a permanent fixture in my browser for months and I’m glad to see it gone.

Chrom sinks onto the bed and stares at the coat in his hands.

It’s been almost a decade.

The reason it took Chrom so long to appear among the character tags is because he wasn’t supposed to appear. Not until the last scene. Somehow he snuck into the open and close of the rest of the chapters and I didn’t kick him out.

“I died, Frederick,” Robin snaps. “Please leave it alone.”

Rereading the earlier chapters, I’m a bit surprised myself about how bitchy and defeated (?) Robin is. Being possessed by Grima sucks, and so does slowly turning into a dragon-human thing, but wow boi. Normally my characters are more on the “body slam our problems into submission” side of the spectrum. It all works out eventually, but for a while I had to deal with the nasty problem that apparently only the female characters have any of their shit together.

“Blood magic is a sorry inheritance,” his mother said sadly, thumbs rubbing at the brand on his hand.

I hope you all love Modron as much as me, because I love her and aggressively ignore how Nintendo did her dirty by including her as a key character in a whole bunch of fics coming down the pipeline. Though in this particular fic, her presence snuck in while I wasn’t watching, but not enough to recreate the Chrom situation.

The fisherman knocks on the wooden door of his younger brother’s stone house.

I planned on putting a fairy tale of my own creation into every chapter, with each linked in a tangentially narrative way to Robin’s family. Obviously that didn’t happen. This tale was supposed to be involving Robin and two Morgan’s. That plan derailed immediately.

Chapter Three

Robin’s daughter greets Chrom in Chon’sin’s silks and lacquer, the twists of dark purple contrasting her currently golden hair.

I keep making Say’ri a lesbian. That point doesn’t come up in this story, because Chrom wasn’t supposed to take over so much, but Morgan and Say’ri are together by this point, even if that gets muddled a bit by their weird work relation. I’m just saying, like father, like daughter.

And yes, Morgan dyes her hair. This is more established in the remix I wrote out of boredom of yet another chapter of Robin and Frederick yelling at each other in the snow.

“It’s a wonder your wayward mother never tried fleeing the continent all together,” Grima says.

At this point, I just accepted that I had no control over character barging in because they felt like it. Grima kept the story interesting at least, or else this whole plot would have been the slowest, most boring road trip ever.

At the cost of bloating this chapter and shoving out some other content I initially wanted to cover.

Due to Ferox’s waveringly official stance of neutrality, we spent a few years moving back and forth here.

[Cackling laughter]

Lon’qu and Olivia drop unannounced into the unoccupied seats at the table while Frederick and Robin waited for their dinners.

This scene is … weird. A slight mess. Originally, Lon’qu and Olivia had the same level of screen time as Donnel and Nowi did in the first chapter. But I already had the outline sectioned off into five chapters and writing even more scenes on boats was not a good usage of my time. Presumably, the khans got word that Robin and Frederick were back and heading to Valm and since Lon’qu and Olivia were already in the area with the same destination, they decided to do a favor and sent a message ahead.

What are the Ferox kids doing in Valm? Spying Something, wasn’t important.

A hazy memory of before. Sumia stumbles into Robin’s shoulder, the two of them laughing, drunk on wine and mirth.

In my drafts, there’s half of the fairy tale that was supposed to go in this chapter. Sumia drunkenly tells an equally sloshed Robin the story as they stumble around in the castle. It’s a more standard tale paralleling Modron hiding her children from the Grimleal and made much more sense than whatever was happening in the last chapter. Unfortunately, I cut it out because certain parties used up too many words when they weren’t even supposed to appear.

Chapter Four

Chapter four and five were supposed to come out back to back because I assumed I’d have time to write over the holiday break. As we all know now, that didn’t happen, like so many of my plans.

More importantly though, at this point I realized that Robin needed to start getting his shit together, fast.

A beat from Grima’s many wings carried them on the hot winds blowing off the fires below, covering several hours march in a fraction of the time.

This passage from the bad timeline is one of those sections I wrote nearly immediately since it just clicked. (The other significant passage is the final scene.) Honestly though, I was starting to have a hard time not repeating the same imagery and words over and over again. My grasp of English and vocabulary has never been anything to write home about, first language notwithstanding, and I literally had to pull out the thesaurus a few times in the later sections so I wouldn’t keep writing “scream” but completely forgot what other words existed. Linguistics amazes me, but it is so not my department.

Is it anger? Is it despair? Is it exhaustion, ascending to the Exalt’s throne alone, …

How to Tell I Wrote a Section by Hand Rather Than on My Computer: when the sentences get long and on this roll of phrase after phrase after phrase, that’s me with a pen. This whole section from Chrom was handwritten on my then-new iPad to test out some software.

By this point, I accepted that Chrom was just going to Be There and started working on his scenes to also try ramping up the tension in the fic by going backwards in his history to when the grief gets rawer and rawer. you wore out a path isn’t primarily about grief or depression, but some of those beats snuck in?

Chrom is a Mess™ at this point.

They dream feverishly.

What the fuck was this section.

“How am I supposed to keep this army and your father alive if you won’t tell me what happens? You’re one of our greatest sources of information and you refuse to share with anyone. Stop hiding.”

I hate! This dumb trope! Of not sharing info when traveling back in time! What’s the point of time traveling with the express purpose of changing history and then not! Changing history!

I have strong feelings.

By private captain, Robin means pirates. They must find pirates to board with.

This was entirely for my own amusement. There’s no other reason. Another key sign that my characters are getting a handle on their lives is that the writing starts getting snarkier.

Chapter Five

If by some future machination, the count increases to three out of three, he’s going to wholesale stop trusting magical mountains.

Case in point about the snark.

The master revived, the blood burning, the sacrifice slain, the master revived, the lORD, the FelL DRAGON, death, glory, the gOD and its vessel, returned, returned.

It turns out, messing with AO3’s formatting to have some font fun is a pain in the ass involving work skin shenanigans. The picture work skin already failed to do its job, I wasn’t going to wrestle with another skin just for this sentence. How it’s supposed to look:

A good two-third of this chapter just all came at once, in a sudden dash of productive writing. The muses are fickle that way.

Back on the point about how I Did Not Outline, there were a few items I wanted to reappear through the narrative. Elements from the fairy tales come back in this fight, for example. Another point I decided in the fourth chapter when writing the opening scene are the cathedrals. 

(Disclaimer: I’m not religious and thus don’t know the full symbolic significance in cathedrals. What I know can be distilled into: You Thought New York Construction Was Slow? and Very Pretty Because Very Important and Yes, The Organ is Behind You and Very Loud. Not a lot.)

“Why do you fight for Chrom?”

Robin getting interrogated on this point keeps coming up in my fics, but the scenes are always fantastic short bursts that are good at breaking up a section that’s been running too long.

Suddenly, Robin is quite literally on fire.

I already drew the picture. The boy’s on fire. There was a good explanation when I first thought this up, but then when it came time to writing the scene, I forgot why, and my outline didn’t have any notes. Bonds? Naga’s flame? Dramatically dissolving Grima’s marks from Robin’s body? All of the above?

“One last tale for the road,” Modron says to her son, …

Modron’s name. I’ve seen people taking cues from Morgan and going with Morgana, but I’m a contrary soul that always resists whatever fandom decides is a good idea. This works out well half the time.

Morgan and Morgana led my brain to the Arthurian legends, and I decided to see what some of those character’s mothers were called. Went to Wikipedia, clicked a bunch off links radiating from Morgan le Fay and somehow landed on Modron? She’s interesting. Nor did I know about the DnD Bill Cipher thing. 

Normally, though, I would not have started with a Welsh name. Some of the name choices for Plegian characters have vaguely Middle East origins (which is a completely different discussion about real world politics in that casting decision) and I would have started there.

I’m not a linguist though. Or someone that knows about naming conventions. So.

Now he stands grounded and as well rooted as the Mila Tree, the fire traded for a calm glow and Robin’s so grateful.

And this line here, this line here, is the sole reason I humored Chrom kicking his way into the story. This final scene was one of the first things I wrote after deciding to expand past the first chapter.

Look at these two dumb boys growing up.

In Conclusion

[staring at my file archives]

Have I ever actually finished a multi-chapter fic before?

[kayefraser]

Fic - Just this Once

Malec Week 2017 Day 5 - Non-Supernatural AU

Hello!

I couldn’t let Malec week pass by without a little celebration, so I thought I’d contribute something to Day 5.

Some notes about the following story:

- I had written an original fic a few years ago that I thought I’d retrofit for Malec.  The original fic was sold to Breathless Press but it was never published before they closed so the rights are mine to do with what I will.  :)  I thought someone should get some enjoyment out of it (instead of collecting dust on my drive - figuratively, of course), so why not cut it up and re-package it for Malec week?  Not sure what I want to do with the original yet though.  Might post it for fun sometime.

- The concept behind this fic is basically ‘a reverse date’.  Interpret that how you will.  That said, the first scene was originally way more graphic, but I’ve changed it up and toned it down because I wanted a sweeter Malec fic this time around. :)

Please enjoy!

Alec wiped the drops of water off his face as he stepped into the pristine, marble-tiled lobby of the office tower.  The clips on the soles of his bike shoes clicked loudly with each step he took, and he had to consciously slow his pace to avoid slipping on the polished floor, especially considering it was likely wet as well.  

The rain couldn’t wait another hour, he thought grumpily.  At least by then, he would be done his last delivery and he wouldn’t be battling both New York traffic and the wet roads on his bike.  Still, despite his internal grumbling, he managed to maintain a neutral expression.  He was nothing, if not professional.

Only a few people lingered in the spacious lobby at this mid-afternoon hour, which just made him more self-conscious as his shoes tapped their way to the security desk to check in. As a bike messenger, he was like the grease that ran the well-oiled cogs of the city’s corporate sector – usually unnoticed, but infinitely essential.  Still, that didn’t stop his eyes from discreetly glancing around to ensure he hadn’t drawn any stares.  A portly middle-aged man continued to talk away on his cell phone off in one corner, while a pant-suited woman silently tapped on her tablet by the potted plants. To Alec’s right, a beautiful, dark-haired woman was in a deep conversation with a drop-dead gorgeous man. Alec paused for just a millisecond as his gaze lingered on the man, an odd heat tickling the inside of his stomach. With his immaculately styled hair, tight fitting pants, and a form-fitting jacket made from some shiny material Alec hadn’t even known existed, that stranger definitely knew how to make a statement without saying a single word.

Alec quickly turned back to his task, and approached the security desk.  With his job, he’d seen and encountered enough to know there was a whole different world out there with a whole lot of different people he would never understand.   “Hi, Luke. How’s it going?” he asked conversationally as he took the clipboard from the desk and jotted his name down.  He’d made enough deliveries to this building to know the drill.

“Oh, you know, I’m living the dream,” the older man deadpanned as he pulled out a visitor’s scan card.

Alec chuckled good-naturedly and took the card.  "Should I ask what kind of dream?“

Luke threw him a knowing look. “Only if you’ve got three hours and a bottle of tequila.”

 "Next time then.“ Clipping the card to his cross-body strap, Alec nodded his thanks to Luke and clicked his way to the elevator. After the doors dinged open, he pressed the ‘21’ button, and quickly tapped his visitor pass on the scanner. Before long, he was walking his way over to the reception desk of Branwell and Branwell, LLP.  The receptionist was new, so he gave her a pleasant smile as he walked up to the outgoing delivery pile that was usually placed on the side for him.

“Hi,” he said as he picked up the small stack of manila envelopes.  He shuffled through the pile and verified that they were all going to the same address.  "Just these today?“

The girl – a small brunette who looked like she’d just graduated college – stared at him for a moment, an unreadable wide-eyed, mouth slightly open expression on her face.   He raised an inquiring eyebrow at her before she managed to speak.  "Uh… yeah, yeah, just those.”

“Okay, thanks.”  He slid his messenger bag up along his torso and tucked the letters in.  The receptionist continued to stare at him, her fingers unmoving over the keyboard she’d been typing away on earlier, and Alec felt a bit self-conscious again.  He managed to keep his smile in place as he said, “Have a nice day then.”

Only when he started to walk away did he hear a quietly squeaked “You too.”

He hit the elevator button, and waited patiently for the doors to open, all the while feeling those wide brown eyes of the receptionist on his back.  It’d happened a few times in some other offices, he’d noticed – this odd reaction from young women whenever he approached – though he’d yet to figure out why. He’d always thought he was the awkward one.

“Oh, Alec!  Glad I caught you!”

Alec turned to see a short blonde jog toward him, an impressive feat considering the four-inch heels she had on. “Hi, Lydia.  Did you need something?”

Lydia Branwell was a junior partner at the family-run firm, and one of the few in non-administrative roles who actually took the time to chat with him.  Most often, the busy office workers didn’t really converse with the lowly messenger.  "Yes, I’ve got one more delivery,“ she huffed as she held out an oblong package.

Alec eyed the thing warily. He hadn’t allotted any space in his bag for something this big.  "Okay, but you know I charge per address, right?”  He took the package and noted the destination.

Lydia shrugged just as the elevator arrived.  "Sure, that’s not a problem.  Add it to the invoice.  It just needs to get there before end-of-day.“

Alec nodded his agreement as he tucked the package under his arm and hopped into the elevator.  "Only because it’s you,” he threw out as the doors began to close.

Lydia grinned cheekily, likely hearing the genuineness behind his surly reluctance.  "Thanks, Alec!“

The elevator descended much quicker than Alec had anticipated, so much so that he hadn’t yet managed to re-arrange his bag for Lydia’s extra package.  Cursing silently when the doors opened, he walked back toward the lobby, dropped his security card off to Luke with a quick thanks, and headed over to the corner to shift things around in his bag. It took him a good three minutes before he could snap the flap closed with a triumphant breath.

"Oh, there you are, darling! You’re late!”

Before Alec knew what was happening, he was yanked up against a solid body and pulled down for an unexpected kiss.  He froze in surprise, eyes wide and arms almost flailing, but then, the lips against his own moved oh-so-enticingly, coaxing and wooing, sending a shock of sensation through his body, and into his groin.  Fingers cupped the back of his neck under the edge of his helmet and his lower back, gentle yet firm, as if subtly preventing him from pulling away. Not that he wanted to; that mouth and those fingers, moving so expertly on his skin, sent a delicious thrill to every one of his nerve endings.  As much as his rational mind was shouting ‘what the fuck’, every other instinct – carnal and otherwise – was screaming ‘hell yeah’.

After what felt like minutes – although realistically, Alec knew it must’ve been much less – the stranger pulled away.  The sudden absence of warmth almost made Alec chase after it, but he managed to remain still and somewhat dignified, though through no small amount of willpower. The absolutely stunning man he’d noticed earlier stood pressed against him, a dark, unreadable light in his eyes.

“Please, just play along,” the stranger whispered, as he made no move to step away.  

The points of contact Alec felt along his body, pressed up as they were together, caused some weird flip-flip thing to happen inside him.  But he stayed silent, his non-verbal way of agreement.  He tried to covertly glance behind the man, and noticed the beautiful woman from earlier staring at them.  She stood by the doors for just a few seconds longer before she turned and stomped away, insofar as she could stomp in her stilettos.

“She gone?”

Alec looked down at the meticulously lined eyes of the man in front of him, and nodded.  "Yeah,“ he croaked.  He was surprised his voice still worked at all, given how he couldn’t seem to string a coherent thought together with what had just happened. Suddenly, the reaction of the receptionist several minutes ago all made sense.

The man stepped away, and as irrational as it was, Alec didn’t want him to.  'Sorry about that,” the stranger said.  "I couldn’t think of any other way to get rid of her, and I noticed you checking me out earlier, so I took a gamble.“

"I wasn’t –” Alec stopped himself.  He wanted to deny that he’d been checking the man out, but really, who was he kidding?

The stranger laughed, a clear, sparkling sound that somehow eased the tension from Alec’s posture. “Don’t worry.  It was all harmless.  Now, I better get back up to work.”  The man pivoted around in one graceful motion, and threw Alec a wink. “Thanks for the assist!”

“Anytime,” he finally said breathlessly, though he doubted the other man heard it as he’d already walked away.  Alec stood and stared, dumbfounded.  Who – no, what – in the world was that?

(***)

[Running late.  Be there in 30.]

Alec suppressed sigh as he read the text message from Isabelle.  Why wasn’t he surprised?  He loved his sister, he really did, but sometimes, her habit of being perpetually late for things was downright inconvenient.

He tucked his cell phone back into his pocket, and looked around for a distraction that would keep him occupied for the next half hour.  The movie theater itself, despite its age, was a bustling place.  The smell of fresh popcorn and melted butter wafted through the air as moviegoers milled about the lobby.  From what Izzy had told him, the building itself was over seventy years old, although the interior had been lovingly restored not too long ago to retain that pre-World War II vibe.  From the subtle wainscoting to the plush, red carpet, to the antique chandeliers, Alec thought they’d done a great job in capturing that old Hollywood ambience. That being the case, it sadly lacked the flashy diversions that the more modern theaters boasted.

“Hello!  Fancy seeing you here!”

At first, Alec had thought the question was simply another voice in the sea of other voices, but when he glanced over to his left, recognition caused a flutter in his stomach.  

“H-Hi.  How’s it going?”  Even as the words left his mouth, Alec knew he sounded like an idiot.  He swallowed thickly as he turned to face the stranger from the other day who had kissed him out of nowhere.   Dressed as the man was in those sleek leather pants, dark purple shirt, and a shimmery waistcoat that emphasized a set of broad shoulders and tapered waist, he wasn’t surprised that he couldn’t think straight.

The other man shrugged. “Same old, same old.”

Alec smiled dumbly and nodded like the idiot he had proposed himself to be.  Cue the awkwardness, he thought to himself.

“Hey, are you busy right now?” the man asked, obviously not repulsed by Alec’s sudden loss of social graces.

Alec knew where the conversation was heading, and he reminded himself that he didn’t make a habit of kissing complete strangers, and then hanging out with them afterwards.  And yet, his mouth was moving before his brain could stop it.  "Nope, I’m waiting for my sister, but she won’t be here for another half hour.“

"In that case, did you maybe want to grab a coffee or something?  I hear there are a few good places to try just down the block.”

He should’ve said no, but instead, something else came out.  "Sure, that sounds good.“

Again, he silently called himself an idiot and followed his new acquaintance out of the theater.  As they walked silently down the sidewalk, passing the chatty moviegoers and quaint, little storefronts, Alec couldn’t pull his attention away from his companion.  Maybe it was just him, but even the guy’s side profile looked perfect. Rich, dark hair, coiffed high with streaks of dark green, highlighted the strong features of a face that likely drew its fair share of admiring glances.  There was a confidence there, and authority too.  It was in the way he moved, and the way he held his head, as if he was in control of everything around him, and knew assuredly that he could handle anything that came his way.  

Alec’s nerves hummed from his nearness to the man.  He was physically attracted, that he couldn’t deny, but that gave him no excuse to behave like a horny teenager.  He should be better than that, and smarter too.

When they finally arrived at the end of the block, they were confronted with several choices of mom-and-pop type shops that were abuzz with people.  They eventually settled on a diner that wasn’t overly crowded and where they didn’t have to wait for a seat.  Within minutes, they were sitting in an odd, rustically decorated diner with hot coffees in front of them.

Alec took a sip from his cup, using the drink as a stall tactic to determine how he was going to handle the awkwardness he was fighting.  He couldn’t stop his eyes from lingering on the man sitting across the table from him. His companion, however, appeared so much more at ease, calmly taking in the décor as he was.  Still, Alec knew he couldn’t keep the cup against his mouth forever.  Slowly, he put his drink back down, and took in a fortifying breath.  "So, good movie?” he asked.  It wasn’t the smoothest opening he’d used, but then again, he didn’t find himself in these situations very often.

That changeable, multi-faceted gaze fell on him, causing an inexplicable urge to squirm.  "Not really.  It was a documentary on elephants,“ was the reply.  A small, guilty smile tugged on those sensual lips, and Alec found it strangely endearing.  "But I didn’t go for the show.  My company was sponsoring some environmental initiative and we were just hosting the event there.  I, of course, had to make the requisite appearance.”

For some reason, the explanation didn’t sound far-fetched to Alec at all.  In fact, it seemed like a natural quirk of his companion’s character. “Your company?  What do you do?”

The other man smiled as he placed his arms on the table and leaned closer.  "I’m a senior editor for a fashion magazine.“

Somehow, that didn’t surprise Alec either.  "And you like it?”

“I do.  There’s a different crisis every day.  Then again, I like all things different.”  It may have been a trick of the diner’s lighting, but Alec could’ve sworn there was a wicked twinkle in those piercing eyes when the words were spoken.

And he, like the naïve sucker he was, couldn’t help but be drawn into the game.  "So, you were attending the event on your own?  No date?“

"No, went solo on this one. Why? You offering?”

No, it wasn’t a trick of the light, Alec concluded.  The man was definitely flirting with him.  And he had actually flirted back.  Then, he remembered the beautiful, dark-haired woman he’d seen the man with the other day, and realized that the guy likely met, dated, and flirted with a carousel of amazingly beautiful people every day.  Some of the levity drained away at the thought that this was likely normal behavior for the other man.  He must appear to be such a mouse compared to all the sparkly people in the fashion world.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”  The other man straightened in his chair, his expression more serious than it had been just a few seconds ago.  

“No…no, that’s fine.” Alec shrugged, hoping his sudden inferiority complex didn’t show too much. “So, do you make a habit of kissing guys out of the blue?”  Alec didn’t realize what he’d asked until the words had left his mouth.  Smooth, real smooth, he berated himself.

The man sat back in his chair, a lopsided smile gracing his face as if people asked him that kind of question all the time.  "Only the hot ones.“

Alec felt his face flush.  The man’s mood was playful and sexy, all at the same time, and it drew Alec into its allure like the proverbial moth to a flame. With that charming and magnetic personality sitting across from him, Alec realized he could easily fall for the guy, which might not be a good thing.  The feckless playboy type was definitely not what Alec considered safe at all, especially not when feelings were involved.

"So how about you? You’re a full time bike messenger?”

“Yup,” Alec stated plainly, grateful the topic had turned to neutral territory.

“And you enjoy it?” A dark eyebrow arched up in genuine curiosity.  

“I do. It’s … It’s different,” he teased with a small laugh, intentionally echoing his companion’s earlier answer.  "Different people and different situations every day.  Plus, I’m out and moving all the time, not sitting at a desk.“

It might’ve been Alec’s imagination, but the man seemed stunned for a brief second.  Then, he was back in the moment again, that vivid sparkle in his eyes. "Kindred spirits,” he stated as he reached for his coffee again.

“Kindred spirits.” Alec repeated under his breath, rather agreeing with the sentiment.

They fell into a comfortable silence as each of them took a few moments to enjoy their drinks.  Alec found the coffee tasted better now than it had before.  He suspected it might’ve had something to do with the company he was with.

Regrettably, his phone ended the moment.  Apologizing for the interruption, he took his cell out from his pocket.  Sadness trickled through him at seeing Izzy’s message. “I gotta get going.  Looks like my sister is here,” he said as he pulled out his wallet.

A stilling hand stretched across the table and stopped him.  Alec stared at the contact, silently relishing the feel of the touch.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got it,” his companion offered and sat back again.

Alec wanted to protest, but he noticed a flash of steel in the other man’s gaze, and conceded. “Thanks."  Not wanting to prolong the goodbye more than he needed, he stood up with an onslaught of mixed emotions, and strode out of the diner.

(***)

"That’ll be four dollars.”

Alec handed a five dollar bill over, and waved off the change.  He eagerly grabbed the hot dog from the stand owner and took a bite before he was even a couple of steps away.  The kid in him sighed with pleasure; there was something perfect, something uniquely New York, about a hot dog bought from a hot dog stand.  He walked over to where he’d parked his bike as he chewed, and pulled his water bottle from its cage.  

Considering there had been rain in the forecast that morning, the day had cleared up pretty nicely, he thought as he looked at the sun-drenched city that moved around him.  Bobbing heads, streaming cars, honking horns – the sea of chaos flowed back and forth in a stream of choreographed poetry.  There was certainly nothing wrong with taking an early lunch to simply soak it all in.

His eyes flickered over to the skyscraper half a block away.  Yes, the skyscraper, where it had happened exactly a week ago, where he’d met him.  It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been back since then, but it was the first time since they’d had that coffee, since Alec had felt some sort of inexplicable connection. And that scared the crap out of him.

He took a sip of his water. He would have to go in there in a few minutes anyways, he told himself.  And it wasn’t as if bumping into that man would be the end of the world. In fact, it would be the complete opposite.  But what if … what if that absolutely beautiful stranger hadn’t felt anything at all? What if he had been just being friendly to him, and nothing more?

For most of his life, Alec had wrestled with his self-doubts, first with his ability to meet his parents’ high expectations, and then with his decision to reveal his sexual orientation. This was no different.  He was doubting himself again, and he could hear Isabelle in his head giving him one of her pep-talk-and-lecture combos.

He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he completely missed the shouts coming from behind him until it was almost too late.  The next few seconds were a juxtaposition: everything happened too fast, and yet, too slow. The screeching of tires, the screams of pedestrians, and the crashing of a body against his own – his senses registered it all happening, but his mind couldn’t process it fast enough.

It wasn’t until he crashed to the ground and the air rushed from his lungs that everything started to move in real-time again.  He choked, trying to catch his breath as he pushed himself up.  Adrenalin had likely dulled any aches or pains he may have had, and frankly, he was grateful for it, mainly because he was coming to terms with what remained of his bike under a car that had just jumped the curb.

“Fuck,” he wheezed out in disbelief.

“You okay?”  There was worry in those words.

Eyes still wide, Alec turned to the person – his savior - who’d pushed him out of the way, and froze.

“Hi,” said the familiar voice, so soothing, so reassuring.  "You okay?“

Alec nodded.  He didn’t know how long he had paused for, but he was sure he nodded… eventually.  

The man smiled at him, the sun reflecting the relief and happiness sparkling in those familiar eyes, eyes Alec had connected with over coffee just days ago.

"Good,” the man huffed as he pushed himself up and brushed the dust from immaculately cut suit.  He offered Alec a hand.  "Because I’ve always wanted to be a hero, and I wouldn’t really be one if you were hurt,“ he added with a wink.

Without thought, Alec took the offered hand and pulled himself up.  "T-thank you,” he said shakily, the shock of the moment not completely lifted yet.

“My pleasure.  And I was doing a public service.  We can’t have hot guys being mowed down by out of control cars now, can we?”  The hero of the moment was trying to lighten the events, and Alec appreciated it.  He truly did. 

“I’m Magnus, by the way, Magnus Bane.”  The man extended his hand out again, this time, in the way of introduction.

Alec stared at the offered hand for a moment, the full meaning of it settling in for him.  He looked up at Magnus’ cool, penetrating gaze, and knew that he could so easily fall fast and hard for this guy.  In fact, he might have done that already.  The connection was there.  It had been there the moment he’d caught sight of the man when he’d entered that lobby a week ago.  It had been there when he’d taken that first sip of coffee with him sitting across the table.  And it had been there just now when he’d allowed himself to be helped up.  He’d just been too scared to admit it.

Maybe … just maybe, if he silenced all his doubts, all his second-guessing and reservations, and take that risk … just this once.

A small, tentative smile crept its way onto Alec’s lips.  He reached out, took the hand, and gave it a nice, firm shake.  "Nice to meet you, Magnus. I’m Alec, Alec Lightwood.“

[cinning-at-midnight]

Welcoming the Heir --Leo Crawford Fic

Warnings for semi-graphic child birth (no gore). request by simplefoodsbydaniellejoy.tumblr.com _____________________________________

I found Leo tucked away in a corner of the library, surrounded by books. His reading glasses rested on the bridge of his nose as he skimmed the pages and jotted down notes. I slowly approached him, and leaned over his shoulder.

“Whatchya reading?” I murmured.

My husband kept his focus, “Just trying to prepare for every possible outcome.”

I sighed and lowered myself into a chair beside him. Carefully, I stroked the skin of my protruding, pregnant stomach. I hummed softly, rewarded by a few kicks from our unborn child.

“His kicking gets more energetic as the days pass,” I commented.

Leo looked up from his books on pregnancy and prenatal care. A sly grin crossed his features, “So, you’re thinking it’s a boy?”

I shrugged, the motion taking far more effort than I anticipated, causing me to shift in my seat. “At first, I was thinking we’d have a girl, but now, I’m not so sure.”

Leo came to kneel by my side, and gently caressed my stomach. “I will love our child, no matter what gender they are.”

He softly kissed my cheek, and took my hand to help me back onto my feet.

“These last couple of days are going to pass so slowly,” I complained.

My husband helped me walk back to our chambers, supporting me as I struggled to waddle down the halls.

“I know, my love, but we need not rush the miracle of life.” Leo said, lightly rubbing my arm with his thumb.

Once I was back into our bed, Leo tucked me in, packing pillows tightly around me.

“I’ll send for Nico to bring your lunch,” he said, kissing my forehead.

I pouted, “Won’t you come keep me company?”

Leo smiled, “Of course I will. Let me grab some reading material first.”

I nodded, and rested my head against my pillows.

That evening, I struggled to sleep through the night. Leo slept peacefully beside me as I groaned and tried to get comfortable. As my frustration built up, so did the sharp pains in my lower abdomen.

The research Leo had done in the weeks leading up to my due date led me to believe these were not birthing contractions, but a false alarm. I resolved to stand and take a short walk to help ease my pain.

As I walked down the halls, with nothing but an oil lamp in hand, I felt a hard “punch” in my uterus. Water leaked from my undergarments and I felt weak with worry. Another contraction whipped the breath out of me. I practiced labor breathing techniques and stumbled back into my chambers. Upon my return, more seeing pain shot through me and I whined.

Leo stirred, and sat upright in bed. His eyes went wide at the sight of me leaning over the bed, doubled over in pain. Jumping onto his feet, my husband quickly came to my aid and assisted me onto the  mattress. He threw the bedding aside, leaving only the sheets and the pillows.

I took in my breaths as I practiced, and Leo called for the palace nurses he had employed at the start of my pregnancy. The doctor would come as soon as he got word, which I suspected would be too late to do much aside from signing a birth certificate. I clenched the sheets in my fists and threw my head back, against my pillows.

Leo followed the nurses instructions, as well as the knowledge he’d learned from the books. He began coaching me immediately after he checked my cervix.

“You’re doing great, Baby. You’re fully dialated, so I’m going to ask you to take in those breaths we’ve talked about and push really hard. Okay?”

I chewed my lip to hold back my tears from spilling onto my cheeks. Leo held one of my hands, and asked me to squeeze as hard as I could when it hurt. I nodded, took in a deep breath, and squealed as I pushed with all my might.

Leo kissed the back of my hand, “You’re doing great, Honey. Let’s do that again, and really squeeze my hand as hard as you want. I can take it.”

I screamed, as I followed his guidance. My fingers became slick with sweat, but I dug my nails into his skin when squeezing wasn’t enough.

After I pushed, Leo beamed at me, “I see the head, you’re doing so good!”

We continued working together, as the pain and emotion took hold of me.

I had long since passed trying to withhold my tears, and let them fall freely with each scream. I collapsed against my pillows after each push, praying for the next one to be the last.

When I thought I couldn’t take anymore, Leo spoke to me. “Alright, the shoulders are free, give me one more strong push!”

Determination won me over, and I envisioned the last nine months coming to a close in just one, last push. I thought I was about to burst every blood vessel in my body as I summoned all my strength into a push.

Leo and the nurses cheered as I felt pressure release. “Oh my God,” Leo said, his voice thick with tears. “It’s a baby girl.”

Crying filled the room, and I felt a tugging on my heart as a nurse placed my newborn onto my chest. Leo stayed at the foot of the bed, delivering the placenta.

Meanwhile, I took in the sight of my baby girl with overwhelming love and joy.

At long last, when the labor was over and all was clean, Leo and I laid in bed cradling our daughter. The doctor arrived just in time to learn the name we’d chosen.

“Go on, Sweetie, tell him,” he urged me.

I blushed, and gazed down at our girl, “Doctor, this is Princess Natalie Rain Crawford.”

[notanicequeen-blog]

Greetings, And Controversy

I think it'd be best to just start by saying, "Hello." I'm Elsa, and I am not an ice queen. I'm a 24 year old freelance writer--primarily ghostwriting--and if that didn't clue you in, I enjoy writing. In various different forms, really. Original fiction, text-based role-playing, fanfiction, I write all of them whenever it strikes my fancy.

And I also enjoy writing about…well, writing. That's what the point of all this is. In my adventures to write what I'm paid to write and to get my brain to calm down long enough to write what I'm not being paid to write, I like to take time out and jot down my observations on the writing process and everything around it. No matter how tenuous the connection sometimes is.

A lot of these blog entries were posted on a different blog a few years back, but they've been re-written and I'm re-posting them here, on a platform that doesn't require me to jump through quite as many hoops to stay ~*~relevant.~*~

That's all the introductory stuff out of the way, so I guess now it's time to move onto the meat of this baby. To kick things off, let's look at a…slightly controversial topic among a lot of writers.

I'm going to talk about Mary Sues, because why shouldn't I? It's the first entry and it sounds like fun.

Is there anyone here who doesn't know what a Mary Sue is? I'm going to assume you've all at least heard the term, but let's get into a bit more detail than just that.

Despite the name, a Mary Sue doesn't have to be a female, though for males the term is frequently changed to Gary Stu, Gary Sue, Marty Stu, you get the point. Cute, isn't it? However! Because of the hoops female characters need to jump through to be considered good characters, people tend to fixate more on Mary Sues than they do on Gary Stus.

Assuming they aren't just using it as a catch-all term to describe a character they don't like, a lot of people bastardize the definition to 'a character that is overly perfect,' but that's not quite right. A closer definition would be more along the lines of 'a character whose existence bends the world so that everything centers around them.' Like I said, gender doesn't particularly matter, but people are more likely to flip the table and scream, "That's so unrealistic!" about female characters doing this.

(As for where the term actually came from, I regret to inform you that it did not just fall out of the aether to give all of us nerds some shared terminology. Instead, allow me to direct you towards the Star Trek fandom. A satirical fanfiction--a very old fanfiction--was poking fun at the concept with a teenage ship captain named Mary Sue.)

Unfortunately for anyone looking to identify a Sue out in the wild, there is no one set of traits or characteristics that makes up a Mary Sue. There are some made of sweetness, rainbows, and turtledove shit, and they fix all conflicts just by walking into a room. There are some who are completely unrepentant jerks to everyone around them (especially a love interest) and they chew everyone out for the slightest mistake, but of course everyone loves them for their spunk and their ~*~attitude.~*~ Or maybe they're miserable and every tragedy in the world finds them, and the entire population is divided evenly into people who want to hurt them or protect them (have you read Oliver Twist? then you know what I'm talking about).

They can be everyday people, famous people, warriors of distant lands, beautiful but tragic broken birds, or anything else you can think of, so long as the world revolves around them in a way that strains suspension of disbelief.

But why are Mary Sues problematic?

…You wanna know a secret? It's a doozy. You might not be able to take it.

You see, they aren't problematic. Or at least not always. While it's true that some writers are going to start pulling their pigtails and throwing a tanty at the mere mention of a Mary Sue, in reality everything has a place. If someone is truly writing just because it's what they want to write, then you're free to simply not read it and no one is any the worse for wear.

As with many things, it also depends on the audience and the type of writing.

For instance, let's look at original fiction. Here, it depends entirely upon the audience. Sometimes it can just be nice to feel like the world revolves around you for a change. Oh, sure, that's not everyone's cup of tea, but if someone doesn't want that sort of story, I would like to know when it became their business to tell other people what they should or shouldn't like to read.

In fanfiction, the line is a little clearer. More often than not, a Mary Sue in a fanfic is an original character that the author has made up and injected into the world of the story, and the lives of the characters from the source material revolve around the author's original character. In general, that's frowned upon. People are free to write it, and more power to them, but most people who seek out fanfiction are looking for the characters of the source material, not a new character they've never heard of and thus are not pre-invested in. (Especially in cases where the source characters wind up warped and twisted out of their original shape so they can accommodate the new character.)

However! I can think of fanfic right off the top of my head where the source material's main character was written as a raging Gary Stu, but the writing itself and the characterization were brilliant and I loved the fic. So it would be disingenuous to say there's no ambiguity here. 

(Besides, if the author is having fun, then there’s no harm coming out of it anyway.)

There is one situation, though, where there is very little ambiguity, and that is role-playing. For those that don't know what it is (or those who are perpetually stuck in the gutter), I'm talking about a collaborative story telling game (my preferred form is text-based, but there are various types). Each person has a character (or several) and they're in charge of the thoughts, words, and actions only for the characters that belong to them.

In a role-playing game, Mary Sues are very frequently obnoxious. Because the game is collaborative, most players want to get their own time in the spotlight. Everyone wants to feel important to the story. What this means is that one player constantly trying to make the story focus around their character is going to be incredibly annoying, whether it comes in the form of constantly fixing everyone's problems, constantly being dumped on by the world, or something else. Odds are the player of a Mary Sue is either going to get a stern talking to or kicked out of the group, because no role-player wants every conflict solved immediately or for their own character's drama to be stolen or overshadowed.

However, I did say very little ambiguity, not no ambiguity. Because you know what can be fun sometimes? Complete and utter over the top, self-indulgent bullshittery where every character is equally as ludicrously special and amazing. Where nothing makes sense, nothing is remotely plausible, ‘down to earth’ is a foreign phrase, and everything is explosions, be they literal or metaphorical. Because when you get down to it, it’s about having fun. (Side note: you should all go look up The Ballad of Edgardo.)

But what about me? What do I, personally, think of Mary Sues?

Frankly, I tend to prefer more realistic characters, but I'm not going to pretend I've never read and enjoyed stories about Mary Sues. It's fun to be the center of the universe now and then.

Beyond that, I think they're a phase that every writer goes through. I certainly did. If you're a writer and you're reading this, you did, too. Every writer wants their characters to be awesome, and it can take time to refine your personal definition of awesome. Criticism and advice are fine--maybe even encouraged, depending on the writer--but being a jerk about it just makes you a hypocrite. After all, you've done it, too.