#only noticed this at 6 pm on friday of course

[snarp]

If your pharmacy is Walgreens and you've got a complicated medical situation and need to argue with your insurance a lot, you probably want to be downloading all your prescription records regularly, and keeping copies of the old versions:

Something's apparently happening that can cause batch edits to old database entries when a new prescription for a medication is entered: either they're actually perma-overwriting portions of the old entries with the newest ones, or there's just something wrong with the website/app that's making it display inaccurate data to the patient. This can make it impossible to be certain of your dosage, prescriber, copay, etc for a given time frame.

[paulyenvol6]

Toxic pt. 2

Contains: Smut, oral (m receiving), hair pulling, p in v, unprotected sex, degrading, choking, gagging, dom and mean Harry, sub reader, fingering, fluff

Wordcount: 2.42k

Masterlist

Y/n felt the breeze in her hair and just hoped it wouldn’t be all messy when she would try to comb it later. And she also prayed she wouldn’t catch the cold and lay sick in bed for the rest of the week. 'Fuck', y/n thought looking at her phone again but there was no notification.

She was sitting by this stupid bench alone on a Friday night. Harry had promised her a 'beautiful romantic date, just the two of us' and she had been surprised. In a very good way.

She had smiled and nodded and told him that it sounded lovely. But then a day later on Thursday Harry had texted her to ask her whether it would be okay if she would just pick him up after his football training and then the two of them could go on a stroll to go to a bar nearby.

Y/n had frowned at her phone, kind of felt the need to throw it against the wall but had agreed. She had been disappointed that a 'beautiful, romantic date' turned out to be a date in a bar but she wanted to give him a chance as she was still charmed by the gesture.

But well, now y/n wondered if it had been a mistake.

Harry had told her to be by the football team house at 7 pm and she had been there at 6:57 pm. When he hadn’t been there at 7:03 she had simply started to count the window panes of the shed that Harry had called a house. At 7:08 y/n had looked around to peek through one of the windows and at 7:16 she had texted him.

She could go in, sure. Harry was only a few feet away from her but you didn’t want to. He had invited her and y/n wouldn’t give in and chase after him.

Now it was 7:29 and she was annoyed. Now and then she could hear some laughter from inside the shed and y/n rolled her eyes. It was a Friday night and she had just spent half and hour in front of a stupid shed waiting for her boyfriend.

'No.', y/n thought. She was 22 years old and supposed to have fun in her life. Fuck this. Fuck his dumb idea of a date. Tonight she wouldn’t think about him. She wouldn’t storm into that shed, embarrassing herself by interrupting him and drag him out of there.

Y/n got up from the bench and took her bag. With a last look at the building she turned around and walked away. 10 minutes later she wasn't so sure about her plans anymore. Y/n didn’t really know where she actually wanted to go. She had walked through the small park next to the football pitch and now stood on a more lively street. She wanted to have fun, so that meant to find herself a warm place because her feet felt like ice by now.

While walking down the street she looked around trying to spot a nice bar or restaurant and then her eyes caught a sign. 'At Peter’s'. Y/n was thinking. That might just be the bar Harry had wanted to take her to. He had mentioned the name on the phone but of course she had forgotten.

But that didn’t matter now, the bar looked nice and y/n really wanted to get inside so she headed right towards it. Once she had entered it she was looking for somewhere to sit and actually spotted a stool at the counter.

Y/n ordered a beer and forced herself not to look at her phone. She had sworn herself not to think about Harry tonight. He had treated her badly, had neglected her and now he didn’t deserve to be the center of her thoughts.

Y/n sipped on her beer and looked around in the bar when she noticed someone sat down to her left. Curiously she turned around and looked right into the eyes of a young man with dark hair and piercing brown eyes.

She almost choked on her drink, so surprised by his gaze and coughed. "I’m sorry.", y/n pressed and the man grinned. "What for?" She chuckled when her breathing had calmed down. "For staring right at you and then almost choke at my beer. I was just startled."

The man smiled and she noticed that he had dimples. Like Harry. No, she couldn’t think about him again. "It’s alright.", the man said. "My name is Nick, by the way." Y/n smiled back at him. "My name is y/n. Very nice to meet you."

He took her hand and softly shook it which made her laugh again. "What brings you here alone on a Friday night?" Y/n rested her elbows on the counter. "Mhmm, I don’t know really. I think I needed a new environment." Nick nodded. "Respectable." "And what about you?"

Y/n rested her chin on the palm of her hands and watched him precisely. He chuckled and watched his hands on the counter. "Will it be enough for you if I simply say the air in my flat was too thin?" She laughed and Nick joined it.

But then he got serious again. "You know, I don’t want to be rude, y/n. If you don’t want any company right now I don’t want to bother you. I just want to make sure you want me to sit here next to you, you know…" "She does not." The voice made her jump and y/n quickly turned around. "Harry!", she said loudly and widened her eyes.

No, no! She was mad at him, she couldn’t feel guilty or scared now. HE was the one who had messed up. HE was the one who should come here and apologise. But the way he stood there. His hair still slightly wet from his shower and he just looked so confident.

She slapped herself mentally and changed her eyes to looking angry. "What was that, Harry? You told me to be there at 7 pm. And half an hour later, no sight of you, no message, nothing!" Harry didn’t look at y/n. He hadn’t looked at her while she had hissed these words but just looked at Nick furiously.

Speaking of, Nick looked from y/n to Harry and he obviously was confused by this situation. "Is… everything fine?" Harry chuckled sarcastically and leaned down to him. „Yes. If you leave this bar right now. And if you’re never gonna look at her again.“

Nick frowned and she could clearly see the fear in his eyes. So he quickly got up, grabbed his jacket not without letting her boyfriend out of sight and then left. "Harry?", y/n asked again but he ignored her. Then he grabbed her upper arm and pulled her with him.

"What the fuck are you doing?", she hissed trying to make him let go of her but his grip was tight. He dragged y/n to the toilets of the bar, into a cabin and locked the door behind her. "What the hell are you doing, Harry?", she pressed and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

It was the first time he looked at her tonight and took a step in y/n's direction. "I don’t want to EVER walk into a bar again and see you talk to another man. Do you understand me?" She raised her chin. "You are the one who – " Harry cut her off by grabbing the side of her face with his right and putting his hand on her mouth with his left.

"Mhmm. No. Wrong answer." He made another step towards y/n and her back hit the wall. He then removed his hand from her mouth and held her neck with it. "You’re mine, y/n. And I don’t like seeing other men toying with what’s mine."

She looked up to him and felt her knees getting weak. Fuck, this wasn’t how she had planned this. How was he able to turn her into a thoughtless mess so quickly? She knew she wouldn’t be able to stay strong if he looked at her like that.

"Say it.", Harry spoke and he ran the thumb of his right hand over her lips. "What?", she breathed. "Say who you belong to." "No.", y/n spit and Harry tightly pressed her against the wall while his hand put a little pressure on her throat. "Yes. You will. Because if you don’t I’ll leave you here and go home alone. And I know that you're little panties are soaked right now and my poor girl is craving my touch."

He lifted her chin. "So go on. I’m listening." God, why was he so good? Who had taught him that? She looked at him with big eyes, begging him to just touch her but he didn’t give in. "I’m yours.", y/n eventually quietly whispered.

"What was that?" "I’m yours Harry." He smirked widely. "Aha. There we go. Good girl." She pressed her thighs together at his words and Harry chuckled. "Just as I thought.", he growled and then roughly spreaded her thighs. "Go on. Touch yourself.", he said and y/n looked up to him surprised.

"Do it." She hadn't expected him to demand her to touch herself and yet she obeyed him. Her shaky hand slid between her legs and under her skirt and her thumb found her clit. "Rub yourself, darling.", he whispered while watching y/n's hand disappear under her skirt.

She began drawing tight circles around her little nub and then after a while Harry's right hand wandered under her shirt. He massaged her boobs and rubbed her nipples between his fingers which made y/n sigh loudly. His left hand crawled up to her throat and he choked her lightly.

"Get on your fucking knees.", he suddenly said and y/n immediately stopped rubbing her clit. Harry pushed her down in front of him and didn't waste another second. He opened his jeans, pulled them down, freed his cock in a matter of seconds and then ran his tip over her mouth.

"Open, you little slut.", he hissed and y/n knew better than to disobey him. She opened her lips and Harry thrusted deep inside her. She needed to cough, felt him trigger her gagging reflex but Harry didn't allow her to get away from his cock.

His hand had grabbed the back of her head tightly and held her in this position. "Don't fight.", he moaned. "Just fucking relax." Y/n tried her best to breathe through her nose and after a while could loosen around his cock.

"Good girl. Yes.", Harry whispered when he felt her calm down and he started to thrust into her mouth. His hand moved her head along to his hips and hit the back of her throat every time. "Fuck. Oh holy shit, your mouth is a fucking… paradise." Harry had thrown his head back and moved her head faster and faster.

Y/n knew him by now and could sense that it wouldn't take him long to reach his orgasm. She felt his thick cock thrust into her mouth over and over again and just when she expected him to shoot his seed into her throat he suddenly pulled out of her and y/n opened her eyes in surprise.

Harry took a fistful of her hair and pulled her up. Without saying a word he turned her around and pressed her to the wall while lifting her skirt. "Harry.", y/n moaned and blindly reached behind so he would take her hand but Harry simply pressed it to the wall. "Shut up.", he groaned and then ran his cock through her folds.

She was incredibly wet and Harry grinned against the back of her head. "You're a little whore, do you know that?", he whispered against her ear. "Getting soaked from getting your mouth fucked." Y/n whimpered when his cock hit her clit and shifted nervously so Harry smacked her ass. "Stop moving around." Y/n nodded quickly.

She just wanted him to fill her hole and couldn't wait for him to finally enter her. And he did, with one deep thrust he stretched her walls and both moaned loudly. Harry started to slam inside of her and y/n pressed her hands to the wall in an attempt to hold on to something. "Mhmm.", she made and felt her knees getting weak.

Harry's hand reached around her body and his hand wrapped around her throat. He lightly choked her and she felt a little dizzy from all this stimulation. Because Harry's other hand had started to make its way between her thighs and he rubbed at her clit. "Harry. Please…", she whined but her voice sounded a bit croaky due to the hand around her neck that restricted the air coming to her lungs.

Harry was relentless with his pace and he fucked her hard and deep against the wall. She felt him so deep inside her and in combination with his hand on her clit she felt like she was about to explode.

"Harry…", she whined and his hand around her neck wandered to her mouth. "Shut it. You're gonna make the whole bar hear you." Now she moaned against his mouth and after a few more moments y/n felt the knot in her stomach tightend pleasure washed over her.

"Shit.", she shrieked and luckily her noises were supressed by Harry's hand. Feeling her clench around him sent him over the edge as well and he came with a deep growl. Y/n could feel his seed filling her up and know her knees really would have given in if Harry hadn't held her at her waist.

He breathed a few times deeply trying to recover from the high and then he pulled out of her. Y/n couldn't see what he was doing but then Harry turned her around and stroke her cheek. He smirked and kissed her swiftly on her lips.

He had adjusted his own trousers and now grabbed a paper tissue, got it wet and cleaned y/n's pussy. His cum was leaking out and running down her thighs and it definitely would've been suspicious if she had walked out like that.

Then Harry pulled up her panties and adjusted her clothes. Y/n herself was too fucked out and powerless to do anything so she just let her boyfriend take care and it honestly felt good that he took cared of her. After Harry was finished he took her hand. "Come.", he said softly. "What are we doing?" "We're going on our date."

[residentrookie]

(8/31) prompt: takeout — 1,213 words (implied nsfw) (regulus conveniently forgets to tell james about his birthday) @jegulus-microfic

Regulus wouldn’t say he has a favorite time of day per say, but if he were held at gunpoint and forced to pick he supposes he’d choose somewhere in the range of 5:30 and 6:00 pm. If you asked him why, he’d tell you it’s because he likes watching the sun go down and not because that’s when James Potter stops by his apartment after his daily trip to the gym. 

And it’s definitely not because he always arrives dressed in his tight, slutty tank tops, skin still glistening with a light layer of sweat, salty and earthy and so distinctively James smelling. 

(In truth, it makes Regulus feel fucking insane, but he tries to hide that bit.) 

Today, when he rips open his door at 5:47 he’s met with that exact sight: James, smiling but slightly out of breath, a duffle bag slung over one toned shoulder that’s of course sinfully on display. Seriously, his fucking arms…

“Hi.” 

Regulus smiles back helplessly, the smallest uptick of one side of his mouth. He opens the door wider, tilting his head to invite James inside. They’ve been seeing each other for about a month now (and these evening visits have only been a thing for the past week), but James seems to have a routine already set in place. He toes his shoes off by the front door (Regulus never asked him to, but he must have noticed that Regulus always removes his own and followed suit). The duffle bag comes off his shoulder about five steps inside, set neatly against the wall and out of the way, before he turns to Regulus and gives him “the look.” It definitely belongs in the category of “begging” (Regulus is getting better at identifying that one) but as for what he’s begging for? 

Regulus rolls his eyes but huffs a laugh. “Seriously? Again?” 

If the sex wasn't so good, he'd be forced to believe that James' only reason for coming here was to raid his kitchen.

James’ face grows somehow more pitiful. “I forgot to pack a snack after the gym and I’m starving, Regulus, honestly, or I wouldn’t ask—” 

He would, he’s shameless. Regulus doesn’t mind. 

“Fine. But I’m not cooking you anything tonight. It’s Friday. I don’t cook on Fridays.” 

“Okay, fair.” 

Regulus waves a hand behind him as he saunters to the living room. “Anything in the fridge is up for grabs.” 

“Fuck yes,” James says with the enthusiasm of a growing teenage boy (he’s 25). “You know, I would take this opportunity to shower you with compliments but uh,” he pauses, knowing Regulus’ curiosity will force him to glance back over his shoulder, “I’ll save that for later, yeah?” 

James’ cheeky grin only grows as he watches Regulus’ face get hot. With that, he’s ducking his head down into the fridge and Regulus is left to wonder exactly how fast James clocked his praise kink. He supposes he’s not exactly subtle about it. 

“Hey what’s in this brown box, Reg?” James asks a few moments later, his voice muffled as he rumages through the fridge. “Leftovers? Or takeout?” 

Regulus blinks, remembering. “Oh, uh, neither— that one— actually, that’s—” 

James reappears, his face a mask of confusion as he stairs down into the open takeout box. “Cake?” 

Regulus’ face is burning again, but for a completely different reason. “Um. Yeah.” 

“You don’t eat cake.” 

It's true. Regulus told him that once on a date when James insisted on ordering dessert for them. He’d just forgotten to mention his only exception. 

“Well. I do when it’s my birthday.” 

The takeout container drops from James’ hands, forgotten. He stares at Regulus with utter horror, eyes wide and jaw hanging. 

“Y-your— birthday— When? When the fuck did you have a birthday and not tell me about it?” 

Regulus winces a bit at James’ tone, his brother’s earlier words coming back to him. 

James is a birthday guy, okay? Any chance he gets to celebrate the people he loves is like… like a fucking holiday for him. So just let him have it. 

Okay but I am not a “birthday guy," Sirius, Regulus had pointed out stubbornly. His brother of all people, the only other person with first person insight into their upbringing, should know this by now. Shouldn’t I have a say on who does and doesn’t know about my birthday? It’s not a big deal.  

Sirius had sighed, one of those really put upon exhales that made Regulus roll his eyes at the drama of it all. Whatever, Reg. Tell your boyfriend or don’t, I don’t give a fuck. Just know if you don’t, you’ll regret it. 

Not my boyfriend, Regulus had mumbled, resisting the temptation to add the word “yet.” 

“You were out of town,” Regulus points out to James weakly.

He bats the excuse away. “So this past weekend, then. I was with your fucking brother, he couldn’t have mentioned it?” 

“I asked him not to.” 

“Of course you did. Oh my god, I wouldn’t have gone out of town if I knew, I would have planned something— a nice dinner, like steak or something, or no, you like that Italian place in town— and then we could have had a picnic on the beach because it was a full moon and I could have made chocolate covered strawberries because I know you like those, or actually I could have made you a fucking cake since you seem to eat them exclusively on your birthday.” He pauses his rant, looking increasingly agitated and distressed before turning to Regulus, incredulous. “Why didn’t you tell me? I could have— I would have—” 

“James,” Regulus says, stepping back into the kitchen, walking all the way up to him. “James. Hey.” It takes a second for the tension in James’ shoulder to drop completely, but when it does, Regulus continues. “My birthday isn’t— it’s not exactly my favorite day of the year. In fact, I try to treat it exactly like every other day, like there’s nothing special going on at all.” 

“But that’s so sad,” James whispers. 

Regulus shrugs. “Not to me. My parents made my birthdays hell. They were family events. It was about everyone in the world except for the person actually turning another year older and I had to wear fucking ties and I hated them and everyone there. And they never let me eat the cake. It was “for guests.” 

James sighs. “Everyday, I think I can’t hate them more…” 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Regulus admits. “I should have. I know you enjoy… celebrating.” He bumps James’ shoulder lightly with his fist. When he goes to move his hand, James captures it, holding it to his chest. 

“I want to celebrate you however you want to be celebrated, baby.” James’ voice is soft and warm. Regulus closes his eyes and leans into it. 

“However I want, hm?” he murmurs, his forehead resting against James’ chin. “You mean that?” 

He feels James pull away before looking up, brown eyes engulfing him in a sea of sinful intentions. 

“You know I do.” 

“Thought you were hungry,” Regulus says breathlessly, already pulling them away, backing up in the direction of his room. 

“Believe me,” James tells him shamelessly, “I am.”

[daisynik7]

Primetime

Part 3 of Dirty Thirty

🎶 Baby it's a prime time for our love, ain't nobody peekin' but the stars above. It's a prime time for our love, and heaven is betting on us. 🎶

Pairing: Kishibe x f!reader

Rating: Explicit

cw: Switching POVs (Kishibe third-person, reader second-person), vaginal sex (cowgirl, doggy, missionary), nipple play, spit play, cunnilingus, spanking, breeding kink, daddy kink, lots of fluff, pet names (princess, baby)

Word Count: ~6.5k

Summary: You and Kishibe are officially a couple. These are the little moments that all lead up to the big one.    

Notes: I did it. I wrote a Part 3; I hope you all like it! Title inspired by the song “Primetime” by Janelle Monae ft. Miguel, definitely recommend listening to this to set the mood right! Please read the first two parts, linked below! Likes, reblogs, and comments are all super appreciated, would love to hear what you all think!

Part 1 - Dirty Thirty | Part 2 - After Last Night | ao3

Kishibe doesn’t know how to be a good boyfriend. 

It’s been almost a month since he and his girlfriend started dating. This morning, he displays a photo booth picture at his cubicle. She convinced him to do it while they were at the beach boardwalk this past weekend, and of course, he couldn’t refuse her. He never can, despite being opposed to corny shit like that. But even he can admit that the photos turned out decent. 

Nobody is at their desk unless they’re filling out paperwork, so he doesn’t think anyone will notice. However Himeno, one of his current protégés, is keen, observant, and a goddamn nosey pest. 

“Master, is this your girlfriend?” She points at the photo strip, a hint of excitement bubbling behind her typically calm demeanor.

Not wanting this to be a bigger deal than it needs to be, he casually answers, “Yes.”

“I see.” There’s a clever smirk on her face, as if she’s plotting something cheeky to say. He’s surprised when instead, she comments, “That is a very nice picture.”

He grumbles in response, not used to small talk involving his personal life. 

“How long have you been dating?”

“Almost a month.” He pretends to be preoccupied with organizing all his forms, avoiding eye contact, wishing for this conversation to end. 

“What are you doing for your anniversary?”

This gets his attention. “Huh?”

“Your one-month anniversary. What are your plans to celebrate?”

Finally, he meets her gaze, setting aside his stack of papers. “People celebrate that?”

“Well, couples do, yes.”

He stares at her, unsure how to react. It’s been decades since his last relationship, probably during grade school if he’s remembering correctly. Obviously, the standards have changed since then, but to celebrate a month of dating? It seems trivial to him. Then again, he hasn’t had a serious girlfriend as an adult. It’s going extremely well between them, and he doesn’t want to mess this up, especially only after a few weeks into it. 

Too proud to ask his junior for advice, he takes his lunch break to eat a bowl of ramen while scrolling through his phone, searching every article he can find on how to celebrate anniversaries. He finds a few ideas that he can get on board with, and some he completely tosses out the window because of how fucking ridiculous they are. 

By Friday night, the actual day of their anniversary, he has a plan. A little before 6:00 PM, he buzzes her in and waits for the familiar knock on the door. When he opens it, she greets him with a warm smile. “Kishibe.”

She wears a modest dress, having just come from the office. Overnight bag in hand, ready to spend another weekend here at his apartment. Once inside, she drops her belongings and wraps her arms around him. “Hi.”

He returns her embrace, inhaling the pleasant scent he yearns for on the days they’re not together. “How are you?”

“Tired. I’m ready for a nice, relaxing weekend with my boyfriend.” Every time she calls him that, his chest swells with an odd sensation. He hasn’t gotten used to it yet, but it’s not unwanted. In fact, he quite likes it.

As she removes her shoes by the door, he sneaks into the kitchen to retrieve the bouquet he purchased earlier from a local florist. Thirty red roses, one for each day they’ve been a couple. He read online that this is considered romantic. 

He walks towards her with the bouquet in his grasp, her eyes and smile widening at the scene before her. “What’s this?”

“Happy one-month anniversary.” He thrusts the roses forward, hoping she takes it. She continues to stare at him with a big grin on her face.

“What?” He’s blushing now, nervous that this is all wrong. “Say something.”

She grabs the flowers, lifting them towards her nose to sniff. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

He clears his throat. “We also have reservations at your favorite restaurant in an hour.” 

At this, she lets out a small squeal. “Really? You didn’t have to do any of this,” she says, face still buried in the flowers, clearly enjoying this.

“I wanted to.” 

She sets the roses down on the counter, stepping towards him to tug playfully on his tie. “You really are the sweetest. I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything. I’m such a terrible girlfriend.” 

“The worst,” he smirks, sliding his hands around her waist. 

“Can I make it up to you?” She kisses him, slow and passionate, using his tie to pull him deeper. “Show you how sorry I am?”

He plays along, knowing exactly where this is leading. “You better be sorry. I’m pretty upset.”

“I hope you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me, then.” 

“We’ll see.” They walk to the couch in tandem, gazing into each other’s lust filled eyes.

When he’s sat, she straddles him. “Do you remember the night we first met? We were right here on this couch.”

“How can I forget?” He roams up and down her back, the fabric of her dress silky on his calloused fingers.

“Well, my memory is a little hazy. Remind me.” She guides his hands to her chest, kneading her breasts.

“You’re being very naughty right now,” he mutters in his low voice. “First, no gift. Now this. Seems like you want to be punished.”

“Yeah, I do. I need to be punished. I’m a very bad girlfriend.” She peers at him with a desperate expression, eyes gleaming with desire. He can’t help but falter under her gaze.

“Fuck, you’re asking for it.” He lifts the hem of her dress over her ass, feeling for her panties. Sliding his fingers beneath the lace, bunching it in his fist it to bury between her ass cheeks, exposing her beautiful bottom. Perfectly bare for a good spanking. She sucks in a breath, anticipating it, aching for it. He presses a gentle kiss to her ear before delivering a loud smack, focused on the jiggle of her supple flesh upon contact. 

“Fuck, baby. Do it again,” she demands, grinding on his lap.

He repeats, this time on the opposite side, massaging the tender skin after. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

She presses her forehead to his. “You never do. Don’t worry.”

They kiss as they strip their remaining clothes. Soon, they’re completely naked on the couch, her on his lap, kissing along his neck. He reaches his fingers towards her pussy, caressing his thumb on her clit. 

“Baby,” she whines. “I want you inside me. I want to ride this cock until we both come.”

“Then do it, sweetie. I’m all yours.” 

It’s reminiscent of their first time. They were hasty that night, desperate for a quick fuck with a total stranger. Indulging in wicked fantasies they both needed satiated. This time, it’s more intimate. He pays attention to the sound of her heartbeat, the warmth in her cheeks, goosebumps forming on the most sensitive spots of her skin, the angelic sounds coming from her lips. Memorizing it all until it’s ingrained in his mind.

His cock is sprung against his abdomen, already leaking precum at the tip. He grabs hold of his erection, rubbing the head onto her puffy clit, tapping it loudly. Wet slaps spurring her to rut into his lap faster. Her hands are clasped around her tits, fingers pinching at her hardening nipples, erotic as ever in front of him. It’s a captivating sight he’s seen before, but always marvels, still in disbelief at his luck one month ago when he first laid eyes on her.

He strokes himself, spreading precum along the shaft, though it’s not enough. “Spit on it, princess. Get it wet for me.”

She nods, bowing her head to dribble a warm stream of saliva down onto his cock, coating his dick. Slick enough, she lifts up to position him at her entrance, sinking down gradually until she’s sat on his lap again, wiggling her ass to get herself comfortable. 

He hums, relishing the sensation of being nestled inside her precious cunt, holding her in a snug embrace. They stay like this for a moment, him sliding one hand around her breast, kissing her nipple. 

“Kishibe,” she breathes out, eager for more. 

He sucks it plump against his lips, flicking his tongue on it, listening for her pleasured moans with each lick. His cock twitches inside her, still hard, surrounded by her wet heat. The temptation to fuck her is almost irresistible; however, seeing her in this blissful state is too marvelous to rush. 

“Baby, fuck,” she whines, as he works on her other tit, pulling it taut with his mouth. It’s his favorite, witnessing her unravel on top of him. And tonight is a celebration. It makes it all the more special.

Releasing her, he leans back, holding her sides once more, watching her slowly rock back and forth on his thighs. “Go ahead. Ride me. Fuck me till we both come. You can do it.” 

Using her knees for leverage, she rises slightly, keeping just his tip inside, them sinks back down, repeating so that she’s bouncing on his cock steadily. 

“There you go. Use that cock, baby. Just like that,” he whispers, staring at his dick disappearing into her pussy. He stays still, letting her do all the work, resisting the urge to slam his hips into her. He wants to savor this, indulge in it as long as he possibly can. 

Cupping her face, he teases her lips with his thumb, slipping it inside her mouth for her to suck on. She holds his wrist, sticking it further down her tongue, spreading her saliva around him. He pulls it out, a string of shiny spit connected to her lips as he reaches down to touch her clit. 

“Ah, Kishibe. That feels so good,” she praises, riding him faster. 

“You’re getting close, I know it. Come for me, baby. Make us both come.” He holds her close, tongues slipping into each other’s mouths, messy and wet. His thumb toys with her swollen clit, her wanton moans vibrating against his lips. His abdomen is clenched tight, ready for release. He wants to spill inside her, give her his all, just as she does for him.

Unable to resist any longer, he grips her bottom, holding her in place. He starts thrusting up into her, feet planted firmly to the floor, couch squeaking with every plunge of his hips. She’s tight around him, slick already creamy on his shaft, her fingers rubbing fast on her bud to reach her climax faster. Her high-pitched whimpers and obscene squelches of arousal spur him on, driving him further and further off the edge. They come together, cum filling up her pussy until it’s leaking between them, the sticky aftermath evidence of their passionate love making. They catch their breaths, Kishibe relaxing on the couch as she slumps over him, face buried in his neck. Soon, she starts giggling. He can’t help but join. 

“You really are a terrible girlfriend, making me come right before dinner,” he teases her.

“I had to do my part after you planned such a lovely evening.” She sighs happily. “I’m so lucky to have a thoughtful boyfriend.” 

“It’s really nothing,” he waves off.

“It’s definitely something. I’m truly so lucky,” she reiterates, nuzzling comfortably against him. “So lucky.”

A while passes before he reluctantly suggests, “We should get ready soon.”

“Wait. Let’s just stay like this for another minute or two,” she murmurs, clinging to him tighter.

He chuckles, thankful she suggested it, because that’s exactly what he wants to do too. “Okay. Whatever you say.”

“Happy anniversary, Kishibe.���

“Happy anniversary, princess.”

~~~

The first time Kishibe tells you he loves you, he’s drunk.

He has an assignment outside of the city, food and lodging included, staying at a hotel with his protégé, Himeno, who you’ve met several times in the three months you’ve been dating. You’re well acquainted with her, so much so that you even have her number, in case of emergencies. However, she often texts you anyways just to chat, which you don’t mind at all. 

On the last day of his mission, he informs you that he’ll be out for drinks with his partner and a few other members of Public Safety. It must have been a successful job, considering there were no deaths, either civilians or devil hunters. It’s always a relief, knowing that Kishibe has survived another day.

You lie in bed, scrolling through the myriad of texts you’ve exchanged with him over the past week. Although he considers himself a man of few words, he never fails to send you a message whenever he can, whether it’s a good morning text, a quick check in, even a snapshot of what he’s eating that day. Tonight, he barely contacts you, busy celebrating with his comrades. You can’t blame him, but there’s no denying it; you miss him.

Being in your own bed on a Friday night, in the dinky apartment you share with your not-so-stellar roommate, is a feeling you’ve happily become unfamiliar with. You wish you were in Kishibe’s luxurious king-sized bed instead, snuggled in his strong arms, being kissed and licked all over. His gruff voice hot in your ear, whispering sweet nothings that make you melt. 

Without thinking, you send him a text, simply stating I miss you. You don’t wait for a reply, distracting yourself with a show, surrounded by blankets and pillows to fill the void left by his absence. When did you become so needy? 

On the verge of sleep, the vibration and ping of your phone stirs you awake. It’s almost 11 PM. Your heart flutters, hoping it’s your boyfriend. You’re surprised to see Himeno’s name on the notification. 

It’s a picture of Kishibe, slumped over at a table, clearly drunk. His other colleagues pose beside him, some waving peace signs, others sticking their tongues out, all of them holding beers. You chuckle at the image, happy to see all of them smiling and lively. Even if your boyfriend is intoxicated out of his wit’s end, at least you know he’s alive. Death is a new fear you’ve inherited since being seriously involved with a devil hunter. You spend every waking moment together, treating it like it’s your last, because you never know if it is. 

As you admire the photo, you suddenly get a call from the sender. “Hello?” you answer.

Himeno’s voice is soft through the speaker. “Hi there, friend. Did you like what I sent you?” You imagine her leaning on the wall outside the bar, preparing to smoke.

You laugh. “I do. Thank you for that. I hope he’s not giving you too much trouble.”

“On the contrary, he was our source of entertainment tonight.” On the other end of the line, you hear the drag of her cigarette.

“Really?”

She lets out a puff before answering, “Yes. He wouldn’t shut up about how amazing his girlfriend is.”

A rush of heat surrounds your cheeks, either from flattery or embarrassment. “What?”

“He kept gushing on and on about you, it was non-stop.”

“That doesn’t sound like Kishibe. Are you sure you’ve got the right one in there?”

“Oh, I’m sure,” she chuckles. “To be fair, he’s had quite a lot to drink. And his tolerance has turned to shit. What’s up with that?”

You’ve recently noticed the subtle changes in his drinking habits. His flask stays on the dish rack all weekend, coincidentally whenever you’re visiting. He rarely orders liquor when you’re out to dinner. He only indulges in a bottle of wine the two of you share occasionally over a home-cooked meal. 

“I don’t know,” you answer, not wanting to admit anything on Kishibe’s behalf. 

You hear her hum in response, taking another hit of her cigarette. “I think it’s because he’s happy. He doesn’t need to forget anymore because he’s got you.”

The words hang tight in your throat, leaving you speechless.

She giggles faintly, aware of the depth her statement holds. “Anyways, I called in case you want the address to our hotel. Master is staying in the room right next to mine. Given the state he’s in, he may need his lovely girlfriend to take care of him.”

You think about this for a minute, still reeling over her touching sentiment just a few seconds ago. Before you can refuse, she offers, “I’ll call you a cab and charge it to work. Consider it a service you’re fulfilling for Public Safety, assisting our highest ranked Devil Hunter.”

Eventually, you agree, thanking her for the idea. She chats with you a while longer as you hastily pack a gym bag with all the essentials, excited to reunite with Kishibe. You hang up with her once you’re out of the apartment, cab already waiting for you. Ten minutes to your destination, you text Himeno your status, allowing her time to bring him back to the hotel to meet you. 

You’re waiting in the lobby when you hear the doors open to see Kishibe hunched between Himeno and another colleague. Her face lights up when she sees you, prompting her to nudge him in the ribs. “Hey, Master. Guess who’s here?”

He lifts his head up slowly, eyes completely blitzed, as he rasps, “Huh?”

You approach them, grinning from his ridiculous expression. It takes a while for him to process, blinking rapidly, as if correcting his vision. When he finally realizes it’s you, he stands up a little straighter and whispers your name. 

“Surprise,” you say, waving in front of him. 

He repeats your name again, removing himself from his coworkers to wrap his arms around you. The smell of liquor is intense, indicating just how drunk he really is. 

“I guess our work here is done,” Himeno smirks. “I think Master is in good hands now. Let’s go, Arai.” She passes you the key card to the room, giving you one last wink before they leave towards the elevators. 

“Kishibe, let’s go to the room now,” you tell him, his body drooped over you. 

“Don’t leave me,” he whines, voice husky from inebriation. 

“I’m not, we’re going to your room together,” you explain, rubbing his back. “Can you walk with me to the elevator?”

He nods languidly, dragging his feet beside you as you make your way up to his room. Inside, he immediately shrugs his overcoat off and collapses into bed face first. You sit at the end of the bed, patiently removing his shoes from his feet. 

In the bathroom, you soak a small bath towel in warm water, wringing out any excess liquid. You grab a fresh bottle of water from the mini fridge and crack it open, pouring it into a glass for easy access. Kishibe grunts into the pillow as you sit beside him, rolling him over so he’s face up. When he sees you, he grins. “Am I dead?” 

“Of course not, sweetie,” you answer, placing the warm towel on his forehead, gently pressing your palm on top. 

“Then why is there an angel here with me?” He lifts his arm to point at you. 

“You’re so ridiculous, you know that?”

He reaches for you, tugging at your sleeve. “The only thing that’s ridiculous is how fucking beautiful you are.” He lays your hand on his cheek, nestling into your palm like a puppy. It’s a side of him that you’ve seen brief glimpses of, but never to this extent. 

“You’re drunk,” you tease him, tapping your thumb at his chin.

“Drunk in love,” he replies, chuckling to himself.

Love. Maybe you’re both too old to put such meaning into words. There’s no doubt that it’s there, never admitted out loud. Why bother saying it when it’s so obvious?

You caress his cheek, tracing the scar that you love so much. He’s told you the story behind it more than once, each time, a new detail added that you tuck away into your treasure box of him in your brain. 

You love everything about him. His past, his present. Flaws and perfections, or the lack thereof. He’s rough around the edges, definitely not sugar-coated, even a bit intense. His immense strength is hidden beneath his stoic demeanor, reserved specifically to hunt devils, never fully revealed to you. Still, you feel safe with him, as if all potential dangers are thwarted in his mere presence. You’ve heard it enough to know that he’s a force to be reckoned with, a serious outlier in a job where young people die and growing old doesn’t exist. He’s the exception. 

And you’re the same for him. A life beyond the confines of devil hunting. An escape that doesn’t involve a bottle. A chance at normalcy in a world where nothing for him is normal. It almost never happened. The first night you met, he warned you about his lifestyle, watched you walk away for your own sake. And now, you’re the exception. 

He gazes at you with half-lidded eyes, still intoxicated, but fully aware. Smiling, he whispers your name. “I love you.”

You stare at him, startled by his candid confession. The words are on the tip of your tongue, easy and effortless, because you truly feel it. But you don’t say it back, thinking he’ll forget this conversation in the morning. You want it to be special, not in the midst of his drunken stupor. 

So, you keep quiet, gradually removing his tie, unbuttoning his shirt, and loosening his belt. After you change and brush your teeth, you return to him, coaxing him into drinking water, which he does, before you both settle under the covers, cuddling. Eventually, he falls asleep, you following him soon after. 

In the morning, you wake up to Kishibe caressing your cheek, delicately petting your temple. He’s turned towards you, shirtless and smiling. “Good morning, princess.”

You bite your lip, happy to see him. “Good morning.”

“You surprised me last night, didn’t you?” He pulls you in closer. 

You burrow your face against his bare chest, last night’s booze almost completely worn off. “You can blame Himeno for that. She’s very convincing.”

“I’ll make sure to thank her. Somehow, she knew that I needed you.” He cradles you, kissing your forehead. “By the way, you owe me something.”

“What?”

“You know what.” 

You look up at him. “You remember?”

“Of course I remember.” Pressing his forehead to yours, he whispers, “I love you.”

The second time Kishibe says it, he’s completely sober. And this time, you say it back. 

~~~

When he asks her to move in with him, he almost doesn’t go through with it. 

It’s a Sunday morning. They’ve been dating for six months now, spending most of their time in his apartment, snuggled in his king-sized bed. She often complains about her place, the typical grievances of an adult woman living with a roommate she doesn’t particularly get along with. But it’s not her woes that convince him to ask her. It’s his own selfish desires. 

He wants to wake up every single morning to her pretty face, to that warm smile that ignites every nerve in his body, that cute laugh that plays like the most majestic melody in his head. He doesn’t need drugs or caffeine to give him that energy boost. He needs her.

Today is different than other Sundays. She warned him the night before; she needs to leave early to attend to some roommate business. They’re having issues with the refrigerator, and she, apparently, needs to be there to deal with it. 

They cuddle in bed, enveloped by blankets and body heat, kissing each other softly. This usually leads to something steamy, but not today. When she pulls away to get ready to leave, he’s disappointed, enough that he mutters, “Don’t.”

She turns to face him with a confused expression. “Don’t what?”

He pauses, doubting himself if this is the right moment, so he keeps quiet. 

She returns to the bed, hopping on top of him, palms at his cheeks. “Don’t what, sweetie?”

“Don’t leave,” he musters, through gritted teeth.

Giggling, she nuzzles her nose against his. “You know I have to.”

“You don’t. Not if you live here with me.”

“Are you asking me to move in?”

“Yeah, I am.”

She squeals, smile incapable of being any bigger. The reaction he was hoping for. “Took you long enough. I can’t believe I get to live with you.” She kisses his scar, then his forehead. “My baby.” A smooch on the lips. “My new roommate.” 

He keeps her there, kissing her deep, tongue slipping inside her mouth. She moans into him, grinding her hips on his lap. 

“I’m taking this as a yes, then?”

She nods, sucking on his lower lip. “Mm-hm.”

“Don’t you have to meet your roommate soon?” he reminds her, slipping beneath her shirt to fondle her breasts.

“I don’t fucking care anymore. I’m going to be living with my boyfriend soon. She can get mad at me all she wants.”

He never gets sick of hearing her call him that. Her boyfriend. He’s hasn’t been anyone’s for the longest time. It feels good to be hers. “Are you still sore from last night?” He reaches his other hand down to rub her clit over her panties. 

“A little bit,” she answers, scattering kisses along his neck.

“Let me eat it then,” he whispers, sucking on her ear lobe, slipping past the fabric to slide his finger up and down her folds. “Ride my fucking face. Give me my breakfast in bed. Want to eat this pussy until I’m full.”

It’s safe to say that the relationship with her old roommate is properly ruined this day, in favor of her new one.

~~~

Kishibe is the first to mention having kids. 

A year into your relationship, he tags along to your niece’s birthday party. The mother, Hina, who is your best friend, has already met Kishibe on multiple occasions, but never in a setting like this. A children’s party is another level of crazy that even the insane devil hunter himself might not be able to bear. 

After the usual round of greetings, your niece, Maki, immediately stands in front of him to peer at his face, curious. In his gruff voice, he greets, “Happy birthday, Maki,” proceeding to pat her awkwardly on the head. 

She continues to stare at him, a glint of suspicion in her expression. “Are you an FBI agent or something?”

For some reason, he decided to wear his work attire to a children’s party. You’re trying to contain your laughter as he clears his throat to answer her. “Actually, I am a devil hunter.”

Maki’s eyes go round. “Devil…hunter…?”

“Yup.”

Without taking her gaze off of him, she starts yelling for all her friends, who come running immediately, all marveling at Kishibe. He glances at you, brows twitching slightly in concern. All you can do is grin at him, knowing he’s in for it.

For the next hour or so, the kids take advantage of this opportunity to entertain their premiere guest, challenging him to see how many of them he can carry at once, demanding to be shown his “special” moves, even go so far as to gnaw at his overcoat, acting like true devils. He takes it all in stride, his stoic expression cracking occasionally into the tiniest smile.

You sneak him a few slices of pizza as he bicep curls three of the kids, including birthday girl Maki. Before he eats, he gives you a smooch on the cheek, indicating that he’s actually enjoying himself.

From the other side of the room, you sit next to Hina, who’s carrying her other child, baby Kenji. You’re playing peek-a-boo when your friend asks, “So, do you think you and Kishibe will ever have kids?”

“We haven’t even talked about marriage yet, we’re for sure not thinking about kids.”

“You two don’t talk about that stuff?”

It’s been a year now since you’ve been with Kishibe, and it’s still going extremely well. You’ve been preoccupied with enjoying the relationship that you haven’t thought to discuss important matters yet. You shrug and answer, “No, not really.”

“Well, don’t you think you should bring it up?” 

You think for several seconds before answering, “We’re taking it one step at a time. We’re fine where we’re at now.” 

She gives you a look, as if she wants to say something else, but she ends up dropping it. Maki’s voice rings out from the living room, calling for her. “Oh shoot, can you hold Kenji for a bit? Maki needs me.”

You agree, holding your arms out to cradle him. He peers up at you with the whimsy and wonder that most babies radiate. You smile, finding a comfortable position to hold him in. 

“You’re a natural.” You look up to see Kishibe standing in front you, a birthday hat on his head, probably forced there by the rugrats.

“And you’re a hit,” you reply, grinning. “The kids love you. Are you having fun?”

He removes his hat to place on you instead. “I don’t mind it.” He hovers over your face to give you a playful pinch on your cheek.

Kenji starts to fuss, to which you focus your attention back to him, cooing until he’s peaceful again. From your peripheral, you spot your boyfriend watching you intently.

“You’d make a good mother,” he states, quietly. 

You look up at him, surprised by his statement. “Really?”

“Yeah. You look good like this,” he comments, nonchalant, as if he’s playing it off. You remain silent, still unsure how to respond. 

Then, he comments, “I think we’d be good parents, you and I.”

“You do?” You beam at him, impossible now to contain. 

“Yeah. We’d be great,” he reiterates, gazing at you with a soft, loving expression. 

On the drive home from the party, Kishibe rests his palm on your thigh as he steers with the other. There’s a new vibe between you now, knowing that you’re both on the same page about having children. He actually seems excited about it. 

Back at the apartment, after you put away all of the leftovers from the party, you both retreat into the bedroom to change. While you’re stripped almost bare, aside from your bottoms, he approaches you, hugging you from behind as he kisses your nape. 

You giggle, craning your neck to face him. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” he whispers, grazing your ear with his lips.

“About what?”

“Making a baby with you.” His voice is low and sultry as his hands glide to your waist, slowly slipping under the elastic of your pajamas. 

“Are you serious right now?” 

“Mm-hm.”

His fingers find your pussy, rubbing the fabric against your clit. The other hand tugs your pants past your ass, causing them to fall to the floor, bunched at your ankles. You let out an exasperated moan, almost annoyed at his timing, but most definitely turned on. You lift your feet to shove your clothes away, reaching behind to palm his erection. Of course he isn’t wearing clothes, clad in only his boxer briefs, which are tight around his growing bulge. You’ve been ambushed, and you don’t know whether to be worried or horny. Probably the latter. 

Within a minute, the two of you are naked on top of the bed, not bothering to lie under the covers. He kisses you all over your body, starting at your needy lips, dragging his tongue down to abdomen to nestle his face into your plush stomach. Seconds later, his mouth is surrounding your clit, swishing his spit, swirling his tongue, your whimpers filling the room. You spread your thighs wider, grabbing onto the top of his head, binding his hair into a fist to pull him off when it gets too sensitive. Though he never lets you, always relentless when he eats you out. 

When you come, he slurps on your slick until he’s satisfied, dipping his tongue deep into your pussy walls, collecting every drop of you into his mouth. Once he’s finished, he climbs on top, kissing you on the lips, still wet with your arousal, tasting it for yourself. You wrap your fingers around his hard cock, stroking him before he stands at the edge of the bed, pulling you towards him to position himself in front of you. You hear him open the bedside drawer, retrieving the regularly used bottle of lube, the snap, squelch, and click a familiar sound.

He guides his dick into you slowly, pulling away at the slightest resistance, only to thrust back in gently. Your cunt squeezes around him as he fucks you, bent over your chest to suck on your nipples simultaneously. Without warning, he releases you from his mouth to hoists your legs up onto his shoulder, cock plunging farther into your pussy. 

Surprised, you cry out, “Kishibe!”

His eyes are wild, an animal in heat, fucking you harder and deeper. “I want to fuck a baby in you just like this. Breed you until you’re round in your belly.” He slides his palm over your stomach, stroking around your navel. “Right here.”

There are tears in your eyes from the pleasure, your throat dry from the excessive moans he’s drawing out from you. All you can do is take it. 

“You fucking love this, don’t you? I’ll be such a good daddy to you and our baby,” he grunts.

You nod your head erratically, babbling, “Fuck, I want that so bad. I want that so bad, daddy.”

He chuckles, breathing staggered. “You like calling me daddy now, knowing I’m going to breed you. Knowing I’m going to give you my fucking seed.” He’s hitting your sweet spot over and over, fingers rapidly toying with your clit. 

“Fuck, right there!”

“Daddy’s hitting it good, huh? Giving it to you so fucking good. Gonna fill this pretty pussy with all of my daddy cum, isn’t that right, princess?” He huffs filthy words at you, completely immersed in whatever carnal instinct is controlling him in this moment. 

You tremble all over, skin hot with passion as you climax. He pumps his cock into you, spilling his load until his balls are emptied out. He pulls out slowly, watching his creamy cum leak out of your slit, enjoying it like a masterpiece that he helped paint. 

He lies beside you, both of you calming down from your orgasms. “Was that too much?” he asks, rubbing your belly again.

“No. It was great,” you reassure him, smiling as you cover his hand with yours, entwining your fingers. “Didn’t think you’d have a baby fever all of a sudden.” 

“To be fair, I wasn’t sure I wanted kids. Not since recently.”

“Really? Why?”

“Because now I have a chance at a life like that. I never knew that was possible for me until I met you.”

Your heart swells at this, blinking your eyes to rid any residual or oncoming tears. You lean close to kiss him softly on the cheek. “I love you, Kishibe.”

“I love you too, princess.”

~~~

He proposes on a sunny afternoon in the middle of the week during spring. Cherry blossom season. 

A few months ago, on a whim, they went ring shopping, for shits and giggles. She got her finger sized, which he noted, and she gazed at a particular ring for a good two minutes, a twinkle in her eye that was unmistakable. He knew that was the one, just as he knows that she is the one. 

He bought it two weeks later, and since then, it’s been in his pocket, rolling around in there for months now. He’s been close a few times already, grazing the box with his fingers, ready to whip it out during an especially romantic moment. Still, it never felt right. 

That is, until today. 

They’re both on their lunch breaks, walking off their meal at a nearby park, fingers interlaced seamlessly. This has become routine for them, something they’ve become used to. But every time, he craves it more and more. The intimacy of it. The normalcy of it. He’s getting accustomed to feeling human, and not solely a devil hunting machine. And it’s all thanks to her. 

It’s been two years now, living together in domestic bliss, practically inseparable, aside from their day jobs. He’d carry her around in his pocket if he could, or he’d shrink himself down to be in hers. Either way, he wishes they were always with each other. 

He’s become a man dependent on a woman. If you’d ask him three years ago if he’d ever become like this, he’d scoff and deny it. Now, he doesn’t bat an eye to admit it. He’s fucking needy, and unashamed about it.

They are by no means perfect. A relationship without flaws doesn’t exist in the real world. They argue, as regular couples do, but never going to bed angry. No matter who’s right or wrong, they both listen to each other and talk it out. What he loves about her is that she’s neither a dream nor a fantasy; she’s real. Perfectly imperfect, just as he is. He never has to worry about waking up and finding out it was his imagination all along. He knows she exists by the way her body feels around him, the warmth of skin against his, the lingering scent of her shampoo on the pillows and sheets. Bits and pieces of her scattered through their apartment, mixed with traces of him, combining into a beautiful, cohesive mess. 

Kishibe never considered himself a sentimental person, not until her. Now, everything has meaning. Nothing is too little or insignificant to cherish. Movie stubs, blurry polaroid pictures, a Dirty Thirty! sash and sparkly tiara still hanging on the corner of the vanity. It’s reminders that their time together has never been wasted, especially when life can be cut short in any moment. 

They find a park bench to sit at, watching soft, pink petals float lazily through the breeze. She rests her head on his shoulder, observing all the blossoms falling from the trees. “I wish we could stay like this forever. I don’t want to go back to work.”

He squeezes her hand, hoping his palms aren’t sweating. “Me too.” It’s rare for Kishibe to be nervous, but for some reason, he is. In his pocket, he feels for the vechalvet box, housing the ring. Second guessing himself if this is really right.

“Let’s run away. Quit our jobs and live off the grid,” she teases. It’s not the first time she’s joked about it. They often do, wishing they could neglect the responsibilities of the real world to indulge in each other endlessly. 

“Why don’t we get married first. Then we’ll plan our escape.” 

“We’re practically married, aren’t we?” She nuzzles her cheek against him. “I already consider you my husband.”

He swallows hard, adrenaline coursing this his veins. The moment finally here. “Let’s make it official then.”

It’s a Wednesday afternoon, as mundane as the last, when Kishibe asks her to marry him. It becomes the most special day of his life because she says yes. 

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

End Notes: Thank you all for reading this Kishibe fic! I hope you enjoyed reading just as much as I enjoyed writing it. :)

Taglist: one of my fave people on here @liliorsstuff-blog! thank you for always showing me love and supporting me, love you! 💜

[thetreetopinn]

My ADD Medication Journey - Dec 15, 2023

12/15/2023 - Friday

First dose at approximately 8:15 am

Will eat something at around 9:15 am

Originally planned to take medication earlier

Will adjust afternoon dose to be after eating lunch

Forgot to eat my granola bars until about 10:30 am

Work demanded undivided attention and could not pull away

Tremors increased in intensity equivalent with not eating or low blood sugar

Last thing I ate before this was a peanut butter and jelly sandwich at about 6:30/7pm last night

At about 11 am, noticed my tremors suddenly return to baseline

Usually this is a gradual process that I don't pick up on

This was sudden enough, over the course of only about 10 seconds, that I noticed

Tremors started to ramp back up closer to lunch time

Took lunch break at around noon

Ate too slowly to finish food before taking medicine

Afternoon dose at approximately 2 pm

Unsure if lunch will affect medication – Beef Teriyaki and Rice

Energy has been good all day so far

Mood has been good as well

Hunger has been at a relatively normal level

Though all this week I have noticed I have not wanted to eat as much as usual

Smaller portion size is proving satisfying enough

Got off work around 5, still have not finished my lunch yet

Have not felt intensely hungry, but enough to know "Hey, I should eat"

Continued to eat leftover lunch (hoping the end of my training other people after next week will let me focus more on A. My work and B. My lunch)

Expecting medication to affect sleep, but still optimistic

Direct manager made mention of my improved mood, apparently he had been worried about me for a while because I had seemed depressed (I honestly had been)

So mood-improvement is not just internal and noticed only by me, external feedback shows that it is obvious enough to comment on

By about 7 pm, tremors are at baseline, mood is still good

The rest of the evening was spent relaxing, letting my mind rest after a very mentally-taxing day.

Did not notice any major sense of hunger

Tremors remained at baseline, no real difficulty with typing or general dexterity

Feeling tired like normal, hoping that I actually sleep given I took two doses today

[taomyou]

The Romance of Reimbursements - Chapter 16

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Reader Status: COMPLETED Summary: There’s a guy you see every Friday on bus 143, and you think he’s pretty hot. It wouldn’t hurt to tell your best friend about him, would it? or, you and Levi take the same bus home from work every Friday, and you fall in love slowly, clumsily, and with all the time in the world to fold as many paper stars as your heart desires. Word Count: 7.7k Tags: slow burn, friends to lovers, modern au, office au, fluff, romance, meet-cute, matchmaking (A/N: this fic is entirely available on ao3 here if you would like to read it there instead!) Chapter Navigation Accompanying Playlist

the feeling not understood

When you're comfortably situated in your usual seat on bus 143 on Monday after work, you reach to take your phone out of your pocket to give yourself something to occupy yourself with for the next 45 minutes. You see a text from Hange, so you smile and go to unlock your phone to read it.

Hange - 5:20 PM

Remember to leave saturday free!!! We're celebrating Moblit's birthday with everyone at Sina's :D

You - 5:22 PM

his birthday is today, right?

Hange - 5:23 PM

Yup!!

You - 5:23 PM

tell him i say happy birthday ^^

Hange - 5:24 PM

What makes you think Im seeing him today?

You smile to yourself and shake your head. Right, they still don't know you know they're together.

You - 5:25 PM

i never said you were going to see him today i simply don't have his number to tell him myself

Hange - 5:25 PM

WAIT HAVE I NEVER ADDED YOU TO OUR GROUP CHAT????? Oh my god I cant believe we've gone this far without adding you IM SO SORRY

You roll your eyes.

You - 5:26 PM

it really isn't a big deal, i don't need anyone's number

Hange - 5:26 PM

NO NO I MUST RIGHT MY WRONGS Honestly tho we never use it anymore bc Levi has had us muted since like february and we have to text him separately anyway STILL I AM SO SO SORRY LET ME ASK THEM RN IF I CAN ADD YOU

Before you can even come up with a way to tell them that you really don't mind that you haven't gotten access to this apparently dead group chat, you see a text from a group chat titled The Hottest People Ever. You giggle at the title before switching over to see what's going on there.

Hange's typing when you get loaded in, but they're taking a while to type out whatever they're trying to say, so you go to check who's in the group chat. There's two numbers you don't have saved (presumably Mike and Moblit), Hange, of course, Levi, and Erwin.

Erwin's number is actually saved as "Erwin (WORK, DO NOT ANSWER)" because you haven't had the chance to change it since becoming better friends, so you quickly remove the parenthetical before clicking back to the chat.

Hange - 5:30 PM

Hello!!! WELCOME TO THE GROUP CHAT ASTRAEA!! Everyone say hi pls :D 

Unknown Number - 5:31 PM

Hello! This is Moblit :)

You - 5:32 PM

hi!! happy birthday ^^

You quickly go to add him to your contacts, as well as Mike since he’s probably the other number you don’t already have.

Moblit - 5:33 PM

Oh, thank you!

Everyone else is probably busy, going by the fact that there’s no other texts that come in, so you exit out of the chat to scroll through SNS.

In the middle of you reading some random news article talking about the economy, you get a text from Erwin.

Weird, he never texts you. If anything, he’s the type to only call.

You tap on the notification to see what’s up.

Erwin - 6:05 PM

Sorry for the late notice, but could you stay late tomorrow? I need help with something.

The period at the end of the message comes off as way more passive aggressive than you’re sure he intended, but you still feel intimidated by the relatively minor punctuation.

You - 6:08 PM

Sure.

You cringe when you go to send the message, the capitalization and punctuation too serious for how you normally text, but you figure that’s good enough of a way to respond to Erwin (who was just speaking to you as your boss and not your friend).

You hope that he takes offense to your reply, actually. Who actually wants to stay even later than normal at their fucking office job?

You get home soon thereafter, and while you do your homely chores and get dinner ready, you try your best to take your mind off of the impending doom that awaits you at work tomorrow. Knowing how the workflow has been for the last… four months now, Erwin’s probably asking for your help for the rest of the week and not just Tuesday.

At least you have Saturday’s dinner to look forward to. Maybe you can tell the waiter to pick Erwin’s credit card in the roulette.

✰

The next morning when you leave for work, you're unsurprised to see Moblit walking out of Hange's apartment, arms full with bags of gifts. You both wave to each other in greeting, and because you're both headed in the same direction, you end up walking together.

“Need help with the gifts?”

“No, I’m alright. Thank you for offering, though!”

“You sure? Your arms are, uh, pretty full.”

“Yeah, I don’t mind.”

There’s a door between where you are and where the elevator is, so you go ahead and get that open so he can get through. You push the button for the ground floor, and he thanks you before the both of you step into the lift.

“How’re you and Hange? You guys look really happy together,” you tell him in earnest.

“Oh! Have they finally told you? I thought they wanted to keep it a secret, like, for fun.”

You roll your eyes. “They haven’t, you guys are just terrible at sneaking around.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Yeah, I guess we are. I run into you practically every time I’m leaving their place.”

“Yeah, I don’t really know what you were thinking with that,” you say.

The elevator beeps once you’ve reached the ground floor, and you step out first so you can hold the doors open as he stumbles out. He thanks you, and before you split paths, he answers your question from earlier.

“And we’re great, I feel like I’m falling in love with them all over again,” he beams. “I’ve had a crush on them since uni, but I didn’t really know what to do about it until a couple months ago.”

You reflexively smile and go to put a hand over your heart. Moblit’s such a sweet guy, you really couldn’t wish anyone better for your best friend.

“You guys are so cute,” you gush. “Drop hints to go public, yeah? I have a bunch of candid photos of you and them walking in the courtyard here, and I’m sure Hange would want them.”

He perks up. “Wait, could you send those to me? My phone wallpaper is just an old picture of us at graduation, but I’ve been meaning to change it.”

You nod enthusiastically. “Yeah, of course, I’ll get them to you!”

You wave goodbye to him, and he gives you a nod before heading off to the parking lot and presumably back to his car.

Ugh, you hate the both of them (in a “they’re so cute, I need to strangle them” kind of way).

As you’re walking over to the bus station, you sigh, remembering what Erwin texted you yesterday.

Thinking about it presently, what is there for you to even help him with? He definitely is the better lawyer between the two of you (objectively, at the very least), so what does he need you specifically for?

Yeah, you most definitely will be making sure his card gets chosen on Saturday.

✰

Turns out, Erwin needed you to review some work reports, entrusting the task to you while he's gone at higher-up meetings. You were right to assume that it wouldn’t be just Tuesday—it was Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday.

Reviewing such paperwork isn’t particularly difficult, but it takes fucking forever, and you can’t afford to make any mistakes. Because of this, the next couple of days pass by slowly, with both nothing and everything happening all at once.

Unfortunately, the slow pace doesn’t mean anything anyway because you aren't able to get even a second to breathe, and when you finally go to take your seat next to Levi on Friday at 3:02 PM, you can only greet him with a defeated sigh.

It’s a miracle you’re here at all, considering how late you’ve been coming out of the office for the last 3 days. How you managed to get all of your work done before this exact moment, you have no idea.

You’re too exhausted to try and strike up conversation in the moment, so you prop your briefcase up higher so you can put your head down on it comfortably and close your eyes.

“Sorry, is it okay if I rain check on talking today?” Your voice comes out weaker than you intend it to, but you’re much too tired to pay any attention to it.

You feel a bit of weight at your left side, and you’re unsurprised when you turn to see that Levi’s lightly tapped his shoulder against yours.

“Yeah, get some sleep.”

You hum tiredly. “I don’t need sleep.”

“You sure about that?”

“Yep, I just need to quit my job,” you whine. “Ugh, I still have to go grocery shopping, maybe I’ll go tomorrow.”

“Are you actually going to do that? Quit your job?”

“Of course not, but it’s nice to dream.”

Your mind actually is too busy to let you fall asleep even with your head down, so you just sit there quietly, waiting for the bus to eventually get to your destination.

For whatever reason, it feels like it’s enough to just be sitting next to Levi. Your nerves leave you slowly, and you eventually get to settle further into your spot and enjoy as the scenery passes you by.

It’s the middle of spring, so the flora on the route is in full bloom, lighting up the way with bright colors and visible gusts of pollen.

You wish you could muster up the energy to talk to Levi—to ask him about his week, to tell him about yours.. You’re not physically tired; you very well could.

But when you turn to look at him, he looks content with the silence that covers the two of you, going by his stare out at the same flowery paths that pass by in the window.

You open your mouth to speak, but you can’t find the words to say. Somehow, you can sense that if you do talk, he’s just going to tell you to shut up anyway.

Or maybe he’d look up the definition of “rain check” on his phone to make sure you understand what it means.

You smile gently at the thought before putting your head down again on your briefcase, and you close your eyes. Not really to sleep, but you might as well try to get some of your energy back before heading home.

✰

When the bus’s sound system tells you that you’ve reached Rose, you lift your head from your briefcase and yawn, making sure to cover your mouth. “Get home safe, Levi,” you tell him, slowly blinking yourself awake.

When you wave goodbye to him, however, you’re taken off-guard by the warmth that takes over you when he takes hold of your hand and gently pulls you up.

You get the message quickly enough and scramble to get your briefcase secured in your other hand, but you’re unable to ask any questions as you try to get yourself oriented enough to get off the bus. 

You manage to tell the driver a “thank you,” but other than that, you’re at a loss for words until you’re both safely on the sidewalk, the bus leaving a huge gust of wind behind it and blowing both your and Levi's hair in all directions.

The two of you just stare at each other, daring the other to speak, but you hardly feel like you’re the one who has to do any explaining.

And he probably feels the same way, because he wordlessly turns away from you and lightly tugs at your hand. When he starts walking, you have to jog a step or two to catch up with him.

“Where are we going?”

He doesn’t slow his pace, instead giving a squeeze to your hand. The contact is hardly meaningful in that he’s probably only holding your hand to drag you around, so you won’t take it as anything else.

“Surprise.”

Well, you doubt he could take you anywhere surprising, especially when you know that the only things in the immediate area are Magnolia Floral Company, the supermarket, and his car, but you suppose you’ll entertain him. Not like you have anywhere else to be anyway.

When you’re taken to the front of the supermarket, you’re hardly surprised, but you still play along. “The grocery store? I never would’ve guessed!”

He rolls his eyes and flicks your forehead, eliciting a whine from you. “Really, now?”

While you rub at your forehead to make a show of the pain (it really doesn’t hurt at all, it’s just in good fun), he drags you both over to get a shopping cart. He puts his backpack in, and you follow suit with your briefcase.

He lets go of your hand to push the cart, and you feel like you miss the warmth. It’s hardly winter, and the weather is definitely warm enough, but your hand feels… cold, all of a sudden.

Instead of weaving through the lanes like you’d think he normally would, he stops at the very beginning of the produce section and just stares at you.

You blink owlishly at him. “What’re you looking at me for?”

He rolls his eyes, almost ruefully so. “You’re the one who has to get groceries, or did you forget already?”

You raise an eyebrow. “That’s why we’re here?”

“Yes, so start putting shit in and let me pay while you’re at it,” he says. Before you can protest, he continues. “And none of your ‘stop paying me back’ shit, we both know neither of us are letting up anytime soon.”

You’re still frozen in place, at yet another loss for words, but when Levi reaches over to seemingly try and flick your forehead again, you move out of the way to get out in front of him. “Okay, okay, but you have to get something too. I don’t want this to be a waste of your time.”

He scoffs. “As if I have anything better to do right now.”

You lead the both of you through the aisles, looking at anything and everything. You’re hesitant to add things to the cart, but even when you put things back on the shelf, Levi moves to put them in anyway. You chastise him for it, telling him you don’t want him spending too much money on you, but he just flips you off and continues to follow you as you venture through the store.

At the checkout, he’s quick to get ahead of you so you don't get the chance to pay, and you just roll your eyes before loading everything on the conveyor belt.

When the cashier hands the receipt to him, Levi scratches both the singular and total prices out with his nail before handing the long sheet to you. “For you to make your stars.”

You take it from him with a nod, and you tuck it into your pocket before helping him put everything back in the cart. He pushes it out for you, and before you know it, you’re both in front of his car.

“I assume you’re driving me home.”

“No, you’re gonna have to haul all of this stuff back to the bus,” he deadpans. “Yes, get in.”

You laugh. “At least let me help put everything in your car.”

He shakes his head, but he lets you do just that. He wheels the cart back to its designated space in the parking lot after handing you his keys to start the car, and you get yourself situated in the passenger seat after you do that. By the time he comes back, you’ve already torn off your first strip of paper, and you’re looping it onto itself.

He reaches over you to his glove box, and from it, he pulls out a small box of blueberry merlot tea. He puts it between the both of you on the little open space, probably because your hands aren’t free in the moment.

“Did you take me grocery shopping because you forgot to bring the tea with you?” You ask.

He hums to himself as he goes to back out of the parking space, his hand on the back of your headrest. “Maybe,” he replies, “but Erwin’s been complaining about work a lot more than usual, which means you probably had a tough week too. Might as well help make you feel better while you’re here.”

You sigh. “As if it isn’t his fault I’ve been so busy at the office. That fucker asked me to help with reports all week.”

“Or so I’ve heard. Don’t worry, I chewed him out for it already.”

You laugh, and you shake your head. “Thank you, I guess.”

As always, the drive is silent, save for the rustling of paper. You reach your apartment easily enough, and he goes ahead and parks in the parking garage for the building. You hand him the stars you’ve made from the receipt, and he reaches over again for his glove box to put them away.

You know he’s going to do it anyway, so you let him carry some of the groceries up to your apartment with you. When you reach your unit, you get your keys and open the door to let him in to get everything set on the table.

You’re still at the door, watching as he does that, and when he comes back to you to leave, he gives a curt nod.

“Get home safe.”

“Stealing my jokes now?”

“I made it first.”

You blink. “Huh? When?”

He rolls his eyes. “When I dropped you off after our Valentine’s Day disaster.”

You sigh, shaking your head. “You still make fun of me when I say it.”

“It’s only funny when I say it.”

“You get home safe too, then.”

He nods, and you watch as he starts to walk back in the direction you both came from, and before you can stop yourself, you yell out his name.

“Levi!”

He isn’t too far, so the volume really isn’t necessary, but he still turns around. “What?”

You look back and forth between him and the groceries that’re set on your dining table, and you think for maybe two seconds before deciding that it’d only be fair for him to at least have some use for your groceries, seeing as he’s the one who paid for them.

“Do you want to stay for dinner?” You ask.

He stares blankly back at you, but after checking the time on his watch, he eventually shrugs and walks back over to you. “Sure, but only if you let me help cook.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, and you open the door further to let him inside again. “Okay, fine.”

You go to quickly change out of your work clothes, not wanting to get them dirty with anything in the kitchen, and you bring back the same set of clothes Levi wore last time he was over so he can do the same. He excuses himself to go change, and you hum to yourself as you get everything sorted out so you can figure out what to cook for the both of you. Levi comes back out relatively quickly, his work clothes neatly folded up, and he sets that at the edge of your dining table before joining you in the kitchen.

You aren’t able to figure out what you should make, but it seems that Levi has more cooking knowledge than you when he naturally takes initiative in deciding for the both of you. Of course, he asks you if it’s alright to use any ingredients before he does, but you wave him off every time and tell him that he doesn’t need to keep asking.

You let him guide you throughout everything, listening along as he directs you to chop this, stir that, whatever it is. There isn’t much room for any other conversation, but that’s fine with you.

Dinner gets made quickly enough, and with a pot of blueberry merlot tea between the two of you, you start to eat.

You take a sip of the tea first, though, and you give it a solid 7/10. He does the same, but he gives a 5/10, citing the fact that it doesn’t have caffeine as reason for its lowered rating.

You both take the time now to talk about work, since you weren’t able to earlier on the bus, and conversation flows easily. Talking about the misery of the last workweek makes up for the trouble because it lets you completely let go of any of the anxieties you had about it, and when Levi talks about the hell that is grading college papers, you know he feels the same as you do.

After you’re both done venting about work and your coworkers and your clients and practically everyone else in the world, the topic shifts over to Moblit’s birthday dinner the next day.

“Are you bringing a present?”

He shakes his head. “He’s not a gifts person, never accepts them from anyone.”

You go to cover your mouth to stifle your giggle. “Right, right.”

“How’s that funny?”

“I saw him leaving Hange’s place on Tuesday, he was bringing home a bunch of gifts from them.”

Levi sighs, shaking his head again. “I would say I’m surprised, but I’m not.”

“Does he like sweets? I’d feel awkward showing up without at least that.”

“That’s not a terrible idea, but knowing him, he’s probably going to give it all to Hange.”

“That’s alright, still better than nothing,” you muse, swirling the teacup in your hand. “We could make something together. Maybe you could bring some of it home for Isabel and Furlan, too?”

Levi hums. “If you’re fine with it.”

You nod, going to take another sip of your tea before gathering your now-finished plate and utensils to bring to the sink. You hold out another hand to Levi’s spot at the table, and he shoos your hand away before getting up himself to put his tableware into the sink.

He tries to start washing them, but you gently shove him out of the way before turning on the faucet.

“Remember what we said? No washing dishes at the other person’s place.”

He doesn’t give any contest, but he grabs the small dish towel that hangs on a ring above your sink, and he waits next to you so that he can dry the dishes before putting them away.

The running water is loud enough to fill your relatively small apartment, so neither you nor Levi feel any need to talk. While Levi finishes up with drying and putting your tableware away, you take out your recipe book from one of the upper cupboards.

You check the time on your phone: 7:31 PM.

It's quite late already, so you flip through the pages to try and find something that doesn’t take that long to make. Levi is done with getting everything put away shortly thereafter, and he comes up next to you to watch as you figure out what to make.

“Is there anything he likes in particular?” You ask.

“He likes brownies,” he answers. “Do you know how to make those?”

You look over at him, mock offense on your face. “You think I don’t know how to make brownies?”

He puts his hands up, sarcastically so. “Sue me.”

You shake your head with a smile, and you go to close your recipe book. “I will.” You start heading over to your cabinets to get the ingredients, knowing already what you need. “Could you get some eggs and butter from the fridge? Just take out everything you can find.”

“Yeah.”

Soon enough, there’s a hefty pile of ingredients on your kitchen counter, and now you’re the one directing Levi to do things. You turn on the oven and get the ingredients measured out, but you leave everything else up to Levi.

Brownies are certainly not complicated and you could have very easily just made these on your own, but you still feel happy to be making them with him. He struggles a bit here and there, but he doesn’t give up, which is more than you could say for Hange whenever you’re in these situations with them.

It’s weird. Ordinarily when you teach other people how to bake, they feel more like a hindrance to the process than any help.

You let Levi finish mixing the batter while you get the pans prepared, and you can see a faint smile on his face when he goes to pour it all in.

It warms your heart to know that he’s having fun, even if he doesn’t quite know what he’s doing.

You’ve just finished putting away the dirtied utensils and food scale, so you come over to where he is so you can help scrape off the rest of the batter from the bowl.

You quickly get some star confetti sprinkles from your cabinet to put on top (you know, to make the brownies more birthday-esque, or whatever), and you hand the shaker to Levi once the lid’s off.

After that, you open the oven door for him to slide the pans inside, and you close it once they’re all neatly put in.

Looking over at him now, you laugh when you’re met with a better view of his flour-dusted front. “Can I take a picture?”

“Fuck no,” he scoffs. “How long do they take in the oven?”

You shrug. “40 minutes, give or take.” He looks past you and at the bathroom, and so you assume he wants to wash up. “You can shower, if you’d like.”

“I am never taking a shower here ever again,” he laments. “I’ll just go change back into my work clothes.”

“My shower really isn’t that hard to use, but that's fine,” you tease.

He walks past you and into the bathroom, making sure to stop by at the dining table to pick up his clothes on his way there. You go ahead and get started on washing even more dishes, and you hum to yourself as you scrub them clean.

Levi comes back just in time to grab the drying towel a second time, and he does that next to you while you wash the soap off your arms.

For the rest of the time the brownies bake, you and Levi migrate over to the couch and turn on the TV. Thankfully, you find a decently entertaining episode of Shark Tank to put on, and you and Levi shout at the TV when the contestants pass on offers from the Sharks or when the investors say something stupid.

The oven beeps to tell you that the brownies are ready, so you excuse yourself to go take those out to cool. You’re quick in doing so, and not even three minutes later, you’re back on the couch, screaming at Mark Cuban for passing on an especially cute line of plush animals.

You and Levi spend the next hour or so keeping up with this. Thankfully, all the contestants in this extended episode are incredibly bad at their pitch, so there’s no hard feelings from either of you when practically all of them leave the Tank without any deals.

You doubt that Levi understands the business lingo any better than you do, but you’re glad he finds as much fun in yelling at the screen as you do.

The ending credits roll, and you stretch upwards, yawning. “What time is it?”

Levi checks his watch. “10:15.”

You hum. “Let me get some brownies for you to take home.” You get up from your spot on the couch, and Levi follows closely after you. You grab some cellophane bags, twist ties, and star tags from your cabinet, as well as some disposable gloves for yourself.

You move everything over to the dining table so you can sit while you work, and when you come back with a knife to cut everything, Levi’s there too.

“Can I help?”

You nod with a lazy smile on your face.

“Please.”

You slip on your gloves after giving the bags to Levi, and you carefully go to cut out neat squares from the pans.

“Where��d you learn how to bake?” He asks.

You sigh. “It’s been a while since anyone’s asked me that.”

“Sorry,” he apologizes quickly.

“No, you’re good.” You hum as you reangle your knife to start going in the perpendicular direction. “I don’t know, everywhere? I watched my mom do it as a kid, and I picked it up as a hobby when I was in high school.”

“You didn’t come out of the womb with a whisk?”

You snort. “No, but I might as well have. Could you open a bag for me?”

He does, and you slip in the first brownie.

“Thanks.”

“Did you ever want to be a baker? Not that law isn’t admirable either.”

You nod, careful as you continue putting away brownies. Levi continues holding out bags for you to do it efficiently.

“A little, but I didn’t really consider it when I got older. It’s still fun, though, I like it a lot,” you tell him.

“Evidently.”

You smile, shaking your head. “Yeah, I’m sure.” One of the brownie’s hasn’t been cut properly, so you set that aside for you and Levi to have later. “It’s nice anyway, everyone likes being friends with the baker, so it made socializing easier for me.”

“Had trouble making friends?”

You shrug. “I guess, yeah. I was always busy with school, so I never really went out. Baking just gave me another crutch.”

He nods in understanding. “If it’s worth anything, I don’t think anybody now only sees you as a free baker.”

“Not even Isabel?”

He scrunches his nose and aggressively shakes his head. “Absolutely not, she never fucking shuts up about how much she loves you.”

You laugh. “She’s a sweet kid.”

“Hange used to call you ‘Sugar,’ though. Before we knew your name.”

You cringe. “That’s the name they chose for me? I couldn’t get something cooler?”

He nods nonchalantly. “They would not shut up about how they hit the jackpot getting you as a neighbor because you’d always come over with snacks for them.”

You laugh at the memory. “Yeah, I was still used to baking for groups of people, and I didn’t know what else to do with my leftovers.”

By now, all the brownies have been put into their bags, so you go to throw away your gloves, get the pans in the sink, and come back with two pens to write on the tags. You hand one to Levi, and you tell him to just write whatever he wants for Isabel and Furlan, and you can do the tags for Moblit.

You make sure to put that one misshapen brownie on a plate between the two of you, and while you write, you both take small pieces from it.

“Did Hange ever give me a different name or did they stick with Sugar?” You ask.

“You know them, they never change names for anyone,” he complains. “They say it works anyway, since you’re apparently so sweet.”

“What, you don’t think I am?” You tease. You’re both looking down at your writing so you don’t catch his reaction to that, but he does take a while to respond.

“I never said that.”

The two of you continue writing on the tags in silence, and soon enough, all of them are being looped onto iridescent twist ties. There’s more than enough for Levi to take home with him even after you have a good amount prepared for Moblit, so you have to excuse yourself to grab a bag for him to put his share in.

You hold the bag open for Levi to put everything inside, and you laugh when you see that he’s addressed Isabel and Furlan with curse words instead of their names on his tags. He helps you put Moblit’s share into some boxes that you had leftover from when you made all that shortbread for him a while ago.

You watch as Levi slides on his shoes, and before you can open the door to let him out, you remember he still has your clothes.

“You can just leave the clothes you borrowed here.”

“I don’t mind taking care of it.”

You wave him off. “It’s okay, I’m doing laundry tomorrow anyway.”

“If you say so.” He unloops one of his backpack straps to bring it forward and take out your clothes.

You take them from him. “Yeah.” You go to open the door for him, and he steps out into the hallway.

You bring your hand up to wave goodbye to him, but before you can actually do the motion, he brings his hand up too. You half expect him to grab your hand again, like he did on the bus, or maybe even give you a hi-five, but instead, he swipes at your cheek with his thumb.

Again, it feels warm—comfortable. You almost feel yourself wanting to lean into the touch further, but his hand doesn’t linger on your skin for any longer than it needs to.

He flips his thumb back to you. “Crumb.”

You nervously laugh, rubbing the back of your neck with your already raised hand. “Right, thanks. Get home safe, Levi.”

“You too.”

“I’m sure I will.”

This time, when you watch his figure disappear around the corner of your apartment floor’s hallway, you don’t call after him.

You almost wish you do, only to see his face again before he has to go.

✰

The next day, you feel… confused as you go through the motions of your morning and afternoon. Hange comes over at around 4 to get ready with you, and you manage to fend off the nerves, but they come back again in the car.

For once, you’re grateful their driving is so horrendous. If anything, you’ll just let the feeling of crashing be more paramount than anything else.

Nothing even happened last night. Nothing insurmountable, at least. He went grocery shopping with you, drove you home, you invited him inside to make dinner and dessert with you, and he left.

But the feeling—this one, where you feel so comfortable—you don’t know what to do with it.

It doesn’t have you red in the face. It doesn’t fill your stomach with butterflies. It doesn’t force you to shy away from spending time with him.

If anything, it prompts you to do exactly that. It’s weird. It’s so glaringly different from the attraction you felt in the beginning, when you didn’t know his name and he was just another stranger you saw on the bus once a week.

Do you even have to figure this out? It could very well just be something completely normal, and you’ve been overthinking it this entire time.

Hange suddenly stops the car, which snaps you out of your thoughts. Though you’re grateful for the mental break, you have to grip even harder than you already were on the grip handle above your seat.

“What the fuck, man!?”

They only laugh before going to take their key out of the ignition. “Well, we’re here!”

You shudder before getting out of the car, careful not to forget anything, and the two of you join the others in the waiting area. You’re the last to arrive, courtesy of Hange’s poor driving skills, and you watch as they naturally drift towards Moblit.

Mike and Erwin, upon seeing you and Hange enter, go to the reservations desk to presumably tell them “table for Smith,” and that leaves you and Levi alone with each other. You raise the boxes of brownies you brought with you, and he nods in acknowledgement of it.

“Did Isabel and Furlan like them?” You ask, unsure of what else to talk about.

“They liked them too much,” he whines. “Begged me for the recipe and everything.”

“I don’t have one written down, but I can do that on a napkin while we wait for our food,” you offer.

“That’d be nice,” he says. You nod, and then your group of six are guided by a hostess.

The rest of the night is a whirlwind, spurred by Hange’s excitement to celebrate their boyfriend’s birthday with their other friends present. You hand Moblit his brownies, and like the saint he is, he thanks you before splitting it up between everyone at the table. You, Levi, and Erwin refuse them, but he insists that he’d rather share than have to take so many of them home.

You aren’t able to write out the recipe on a napkin as promised because the napkins are fabric, but after figuring out the measurements for a more… manageable batch, you text the information to Levi.

Levi does actually call over the waitress to bring over paper napkins for you, just like when you both came here on Valentine’s Day, and you thank him before starting to tear at the paper. You hand that one to Levi, and instead of rejecting it like you expect him to, he takes it and waits for you to make yours so he can follow along again.

When the food eventually comes to your table, all six of you can do is eat in silence to savor the expensive taste as well as you can. There’s no drinking tonight, probably because everyone drove here in smaller groups and it’d be too inconvenient to figure out how to get home, but it’s still lively and exciting.

Towards the end of the night, you and Hange slip away to “the bathroom” to tell the waitress that it’s Moblit’s birthday and to pick Erwin’s credit card, and when you come back, you both have to act surprised when the whole restaurant starts singing Happy Birthday and when Erwin gets fucked by the expensive bill.

Levi seems to catch on that you’re responsible for Erwin losing the roulette, but he only rolls his eyes and doesn’t make a scene out of it.

When everything’s paid for and everyone’s back outside, just about ready to part ways for the night, Hange winces.

“What’s wrong?” You ask.

They nervously go to scratch behind their ears. “Do you think you could find another ride home? I totally forgot to tell you, but I’m going over to Moblit’s to, uh,” their gaze drifts off to their not-so-secret lover, “test some liquor!”

You should’ve expected as much, but it’s no trouble.

Get some, Hange!

You wave them off, and you look around at the group. “I’m sure least one of them have a seat to spare.”

They wrap you in a warm hug, nearly crushing you, and you return the gesture with just as much enthusiasm. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! I love you so much!”

You try to wiggle out of their grip after a while, but they don’t really let up, instead rocking back-and-forth with you still in their arms.

Their grip on you finally loosens up when Levi comes up to you, and he practically has to pry them off of you before they let go. You thank him, and Hange’s off to go… test liquor with Moblit, the two of them headed for where Hange parked their car.

Erwin chimes in first. “Mike and I live in the opposite direction, so you can go with Levi.”

“Is that okay with you?” You ask him.

Instead of answering, Levi goes to stomp (lightly) on your toes, and you take that as a yes.

You and Levi give your goodbyes to the other two men, and you follow him to his car.

This sure does feel like a repeat of Valentine’s Day. It's parked in the exact same spot.

When you’re both in the car and about ready to leave, he hands you the receipt, telling you that Erwin forgot to take it before he left. You thank him for the paper, and you promptly start tearing and folding it.

The ride is completely silent, again, with only the sound of crinkling paper filling the vehicle, but it’s comfortable. Almost alarmingly so.

You drop the stars into the palm of Levi’s hand when he’s parked at the curb of your building, he reaches over to put them away in his glove box, and nothing is said other than a “get home safe” from the both of you.

When you get safely inside your apartment, you don’t even know what you’re supposed to do.

At least when you were constantly anxious and high-alert around Levi, you could at least find reason to denounce those feelings and get rid of them.

Maybe you should ask Erwin to give you extra work this week to distract yourself.

Who are you kidding, you definitely aren’t going to do that.

Still, when you go to sleep that night, you wish for more opportunities to skip on thinking about it entirely, and even more opportunities to just enjoy the feeling while it’s there.

✰

Both fortunately and unfortunately, your wish is granted to you.

Unlike last week, this week is fast. It rushes past you, works you as hard as it can, and spits you out without so much as a “thank you” for your efforts.

Erwin, bless his heart, apologizes profusely and comes by your office often to check up on you, but you barely spare him a glance whenever he passes through.

The only silver lining in any of this is that Friday comes just as quickly. That and the fact that the hustle and bustle doesn’t give you any time to overthink any of your feelings.

When you go to take your seat on bus 143 at 3:09 PM on Friday, you have to put your head down after you hand Levi his tea. You ask for another rain check, and Levi doesn’t make any fuss about it before taking out his phone to busy himself.

Unfortunately, because there’s a lot of traffic on this particular Friday, there’s plenty of starts and stops, all of which break you out of your resting state. The sounds of city bustle don’t help either. When the bus comes to a sudden halt for what feels like the hundredth time in the last ten minutes, you groan and lean your head back, looking up at the ceiling.

You chuckle halfheartedly. “Maybe I should just jump out the window and walk the rest of the way home.”

Levi scoffs next to you. “We’re still in the city, you might as well stay here until Monday.”

“That’d be better than getting shaken awake every three seconds.”

“You were sleeping?"

“I wasn’t, but I can’t really rest with the traffic. My briefcase isn’t the most comfortable thing in the world either.” You sigh and prop your elbow on your lap, resting your head on your hand. “So, how was your week? We might as well talk if I can’t keep my eyes closed.”

He doesn’t say anything, so you naturally turn to look at him. He’s propping up his backpack straighter on his lap, and he slides his phone into the front pocket.

He turns to look at you when that’s done, and the two of you hold eye contact before he looks away and out the window in front of your seats.

“You can rest on my shoulder.”

You lazily shake your head. “No, it’s okay. That’s probably uncomfortable for you, and you seem tired enough from work.”

“You literally look like you’re about to fall forward,” he scolds. “And no talking, you need to rest.”

“Geez, you make it sound like I’m sick or something,” you joke.

“Picked it up from you,” he contests.

You follow his gaze out towards the window, and you hum. “But it’s okay, I can stay up.” As if on cue, you have to yawn, and you can see Levi shake his head out of the corner of your eye.

Before you can bark out something to dismiss any further scolding, you hear him turning towards you again. You wait, still staring out the window, but you watch as his left hand reaches over to push your head gently onto his right shoulder.

It feels awkward, honestly, and you kinda want to laugh.

You’d think the touch was romantic, but it hardly is when he struggles to reach over the backpack in his lap and your briefcase, and the bumps of the roads that knock you back-and-forth hardly do anything to help the atmosphere either.

But still, the act has you breaking out into a shy smile.

Had it been months ago, you probably would’ve passed out then-and-there from just his touch alone, but you don’t feel any red creeping up at all.

Just a quiet, comfortable glow in your chest, and a smile that acts as a silent thanks to him for lending you his shoulder for the rest of the ride.

He pulls his hand away from your head, and he reorients himself to look outside again, and he sits up straight against the back of the seat. You don’t dare move your head away, instead just slightly turning to look at his face, and you close your eyes once you see that he's comfortably settled back into his seat.

“So, how was your—”

“Just shut the fuck up,” he mumbles.

You sleepily hum. “You like silencing women?”

He groans. “Fuck off.”

You laugh and shake your head, position permitting. You close your eyes, and you hum to yourself as you try to find your sleep.

Yeah, you can figure out your feelings later.

You know you definitely shouldn’t be continuing to put off the emotionally daunting task, but you definitely don’t want to confront anything right now.

You still think it’s weird, that much hasn’t changed. And this is definitely not normal. That much is apparent, more so now than before when you were first starting to question things halfheartedly.

All you need to know is that here, with him, you’re comfortable.

For you, it’s enough to know that. Even if it isn’t, you’re okay with not knowing anything else, so you'll just spend the next... however many minutes left of your ride through the traffic, with him, trying to imprint the comfort that he gives you into yourself as well as you can.

✰

Next Chapter

[sharmerika]

Last Thursday

What happened last Thursday reminded me of the fragility of life...

Of how things could easily change in just a few minutes.

It was already past 6 PM when we decided to go to Balasan, at first, my brother only wanted to go to a vulcanizing shop, in a different barangay, just a few minutes away from us. But then, my mother said she wanted to tag along as well, and then my brother asked me if I wanted to accompany them too. At first, I didn't want to because I knew I need to rest, we had a scheduled meet-up with a friend of our older brother, going back to the States. But then, I don't know why, but I decided, I'd go with them.

So we left, at first we passed by the vulcanizing shop, and got the tires checked, then we went to Balasan, he went inside the supermart to buy some groceries, I didn't go with him because I was only wearing pambahay, and refused to be seen in public.

Then we went to Andok's, he got out to buy food, and when he got in, I asked him if he also bought me food, because earlier I said I wasn't hungry, then changed my mind, and Mama also said she wanted to have some as well, this was when he was doing a U-turn, and he got irritated because we didn't tell him beforehand that we wanted to eat as well, he parked the car, across Andok's, before he got out of the car, he said to us, "daw ma high-blood man ko sainyo ah!". But he went out and bought us what we wanted anyway. Then he got back inside the car, I was looking outside, and heard Mama asking him what was wrong, and I looked over, she was trying to pull his leg out of out because at first, she thought his leg just got stuck, then he started convulsing, and he could no longer move his limbs, they went frigid, I was trying to reach his seatbelt to unplug it, then he turned his head at me, and he screamed my name, his eyes were pleading, and that's when his mouth started frothing, his lips went blue and his eyes rolled back, then he lost consciousness. I was frantic, and Mama was distraught, at that time, I was aware that I was scared, but didn't entertain the feeling of it, then I started calling for help because we were in a different town, and I didn't know their Responder's number, I got out of the car and asked the lady's help if they could contact their ambulance, and she didn't know, thankfully, her kid volunteered to get help and people across started noticing how frantic we were. They helped us until their patrol car arrived. My brother regained consciousness, he was unconscious for 5 minutes, and even after regaining consciousness he was disoriented, he still couldn't move his body. And last Friday, we had to go to the city to look for a neurologist, and yesterday he had his EEG and bought the meds that were prescribed to him.

Thinking back, I'm grateful that it didn't happen while he was crossing the street, nor when he was already driving. What would've happened if we didn't ask him to go back to Andok's to buy us food, he would've been driving and we were in the car with him, also when I was outside talking with some of the people, while the others are helping Mama and my brother, I noticed the vehicles passing by and most of them are trucks. Like massive ones, if we didn't ask him to go back, we would be in the middle of the road, possibly with no other people to help us.

I am truly grateful to the people in Balasan, they didn't think twice about helping us. Even the Barangay tanods and the police officers who drove the car to the hospital (I'm not very good at driving). Also, the staff in Malbog, even though it took them a while to attend to us, it was understandable, and of course, the doctors and nurses in Mission Hospital in Iloilo City.

Lastly, I am grateful my brother is alive, and that we were guided. Regardless of what you believe in, I'm just glad that someone out there is looking out for us.

Life, should never be taken for granted. And so is your health and well-being

[spiriteddreams]

[6:27 PM] ⁀➷ Miya Osamu

Miya Osamu wants to go home. His morning had started out rough, waking up to Atsumu calling him three times, only to find out his brother just wanted him to make him a special onigiri later that day. You were already gone, having left for work an hour earlier because there was an important meeting that you needed to prepare for. That left Osamu to drag himself out of bed and stumble to the bathroom to prepare for the day. Alone. It only got worse.

Two of his employees called out sick and he was left to train the new hires while balancing orders and managing the restaurant for the day. One of the new workers was a shy boy, fresh into university with fumbling hands and eyes that would barely meet his when he was trying to give them a brief rundown of a typical day working at the restaurant. The other one, a bright smiling girl seemed to pay attention enough, but Osamu could feel the back of his throat starting to hurt from how much he was talking. He could feel his back starting to ache as he pressed rice in his hands, and no matter how many times he rolled his shoulders or stretched quickly, the familiar ache would return. Onigiri Miya was, of course, busy, as it typically was on a Friday and Osamu made a mental note to have more people scheduled to help on Fridays.

Atsumu came in after practice, bringing along Bokuto, Sakusa, and Hinata. Sakusa seemed to be the only one who noticed that Osamu was having a terrible day and quietly asked the grey haired twin if he was doing alright. Atsumu, Bokuto, and Hinata however, sat eagerly together, their chatter making Osamu’s raging headache worse and worse by the second. Customers greeted the MSBY stars with adoration in their eyes, the volume of the restaurant rising and rising.

And now, hours later, Osamu just wants to go home.

The bell above the door jingles, signaling the arrival of a new customer. Osamu sighs and looks up to greet whoever it is when he cuts himself off short. You stand there with a smile on your lips, eyes full of understanding as you take him in. Atsumu lets out a shout of delight and practically tackles you in a hug. Osamu scowls at the sight and diverts his attention to the onigiri in front of him, unaware of the way Sakusa watches him.

“Give them some space.” The outside hitter grumbles and practically yanks Atsumu off of you. You offer him a grateful smile, mumbling something to Atsumu before sliding into a seat at the bar, right across from Osamu who doesn’t look up at you. He’s too focused on the onigiri in front of him.

“What did that onigiri do to you?” His head snaps up suddenly at your words, mouth parted slightly and eyebrows raised. You look amused and lean forward to look down at the rice in his hands. Osamu sighs and lets his shoulders drop. He places the food on a plate and slides it in front of you wordlessly, but makes no move to walk away. He waits, patiently, as you bite into it, a smile growing on your lips as you hum with approval. You turn it towards him, offering him a bite, and Osamu’s eyes soften. You can see the tiredness in them, the exhaustion that’s been weighing down on him all day. A quick glance at your phone and you start counting down the minutes until Osamu officially ends his shift for the day. You count each second in your head, waiting, watching as he shuffles in and out of the backroom and his office, finishing up for the day.

6:30. Osamu unties the apron and disappears into the back for a moment before he comes back again, hat in his hand as he runs a hand through his hair. He makes his way around the bar to stand by you and you smile up at him gently.

“Wanna go home.” Osamu drapes himself over your back. His words are slurred together and you struggle to stay upright with his large frame practically pushing you into the bar. Sakusa snorts from where he sits next to you, but his eyes say enough: he’ll supervise his teammates so you can take Osamu home.

“C’mon baby, let’s get you home.” Osamu blinks at you tiredly and you refrain from poking his cheeks. He looks adorable, with tired eyes and bottom lip slightly pushed out to form a pout. He hums in agreement and holds onto you tightly as you maneuver yourself so you can walk while letting Osamu half lean against you. The trip home feels like a blur to him, and upon finally pushing open the door to your shared home, you don’t say anything as you let him pull you to the couch, your body falling on top of him ungracefully. But at least you’re held in his embrace. And as you both begin to drift off to nap, Osamu can’t help but think about how thankful he is for you.

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! <3 (tumblr algorithm is based on reblogs, you have no idea how much it means to see a reblog and one with notes in the tags) A/N: pls hit me with requests i'm struggling sm with ideas

[kpopfanfictrash]

Lovely Demons (Teaser)

Posting Date: Friday, October 29th, 6:00 PM EST

Part of: the Nightmare on Tumblr.com Collaboration

Genre:  Fantasy / Enemies to Lovers / Princes of Hell!AU / Witch!AU

Pairing: Jimin / Reader

Synopsis:  As penance for a crime committed long, long ago, the Witch Council banished you to the feared Tholoss forest. Your sentence was one hundred thousand days of solitude – or death, whichever came first. Your only hope of salvation comes from the demon names routinely sent your way; creatures who escape the inner circles of Hell and pose a threat to the mortal realms. For each demon you kill, days are removed from your sentence. For years you’ve existed, biding your time, until one morning you receive a name which throws your entire world into chaos: the name of Park Jimin, High Prince of Hell himself.

Estimated WC: 43K

Rating: 18+

Preview: 2,437

The Tholoss forest is feared by mortal and immortal alike.

You though, have long grown accustomed to the way moss hangs from the trees like a shroud, brushing the forest floor with the tenderness of a lover. No longer does it frighten you how shadows stretch towards the sun and not from it, as though they seek desperately to blot out its light.

The Tholoss is a dark forest, a cursed forest and so, you belong here. Like calls to like, after all. It has been a long time since you were afraid of the forest but even so, you’ve a difficult time calling your emotions bravery. How can you truly be brave when everything you love has already been taken? Apart from your magic, of course and even that can’t fully be called your own.

The most dangerous of creatures fear you, staying far away from your door, lest you ever come out. Your witch-hunter legacy precedes you, passed from the lips of demons who’ve avoided your sword. For nearly a century, you’ve been tasked with hunting down creatures who escape from Hell’s Maw and returning them to their rightful place.

Seated at your drab, kitchen table though, it’s difficult to feel like a living legend. Rather, your mortality weighs heavily, finishing the dregs of your tea to replace the cup in its saucer. Bitterness clings to your tongue, although the tea you brew every morning is not without its benefits. Since your banishment, you’ve grown rather adept in the art of potion-making – untaught at the Keep, since potions are masculine magic and therefore, lesser.

Magic, as with all things, is not without prejudice.

Spellcasting – charms, hexes, and curses – are viewed to be feminine since they necessitate a greater amount of skill to perform. Women are by far better at magic than men. Potions, on the other hand, are masculine because, while tricky, their tasks can be accomplished without use of a spell.

For example, the tea you brewed (chamomile, peppermint, wormwood, and thistle) would boost your immune system even without the magic added while steeping. It’s magic though, which takes the potion from human to something more – something other. Necessary magic, you’ve found, while living alone in the woods.

Since leaving the Keep, you’ve become more open-minded about such things. Potions have their use as much as defensive magic, although the Council of Witches would have you think otherwise.

Standing from the table, you clear it’s surface with a flick of your hand, transferring your dishes to soak. The slightest of energy drains from your body, although you barely notice. Menial magic hardly takes a toll on you anymore. Even before banishment you were considered a talented witch and now, you’ve only grown stronger.

Exiting the kitchen, you pause at the door. Gaze traveling upwards, you take in the carved notches and sigh.

36,499 tic marks carved into the wood.

One for each day you’ve spent in this hovel. Reaching out a hand, you will a stone knife to appear in your palm. Bending to eye-level, you whittle the 36,500th mark in the wood.

It’s been nearly one hundred years of penance, forced upon you by the Witch Council.

Straightening, you examine the mark and find it to be satisfactory. Satisfactory in its uniformity, not satisfactory in its meaning. With another wave of your hand, the knife vanishes, reappearing in its place on your counter behind you.

This hovel you live in is held up by magic. Based on appearance alone, it should have long since crumbled but somehow, it stays. On mornings like this, you feel awfully similar to the house you live in. With no family, no friends, and only rogue demons for company, you’re little more than a shell held up by duty and magic.

Coming to a stop in the hall, you remove your sword from it’s shelf to strap onto your waist. You suppose the benefit of being banished is that now, you’re free to dress however you like. At the Keep, apprentices are forced to wear white gowns for training. These distinguish you from commoners, mark you as elite practitioners of magic – and are wildly impractical.

The first time you hunted a demon while wearing your dress, it caught on a branch and nearly killed you. Since then, you’ve switched to leathers and wool. It’s colder in the Tholoss than in Virago, although this is mostly due to your proximity to Hell’s Maw. Virago, capital city of the witches, is situated high in the mountains with a climate that’s mostly contained by magic.

Tugging on your cloak, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. You pause, wondering if anyone from the Keep would even recognize you now. The face which stares back at you is harder, zero laugh lines around your eyes like there used to be. Your mom once said your laugh was her favorite, but it’s been a long time since you found anything to be humorous.

Looking away, you glance at the morning light which filters through the canopy. It’s nearly an hour after sunrise, which means a letter – if any – should arrive any minute.

The letters you receive aren’t well-wishes or news from what once was your home. What few friends you had in the Keep quickly forgot you and you’ve no living family to speak of. Your mother was the last witch in a powerful lineage, but she died in a human war not long after you left for your training.

A small comfort, she never had to see you like this.

You don’t blame the other witches for forgetting you, honestly. Had any of them been in your shoes, accused of your crimes, you’d have been equally horrified.

Shaking this thought away, you enter the hall which serves as your entrance. Your cabin is small, nothing more than a bedroom, a kitchen and a hallway held together. Your hall is where your letters are delivered, sent via magic from the Council when they have need of your services.

Services is a kind word, since your punishment demands you fulfill your duty. Whenever a demon escapes Hell, the Council sends you the name and a number of days. It’s your job to hunt down said demon, return them to Hell and in turn, the stated number of days are removed from your sentence.

Returning a demon to Hell is a nicer way of saying you kill them. Demons are immortal – unlike humans and witches – and eventually, will simply reform inside Hell’s borders. By the time this happens though, enough time will have passed for them to hopefully think twice before threatening the mortal realms again.

Part of the Treaty between humans, witches, and immortals (beings of Heaven and Hell) states immortals won’t interfere in mortal matters unless specifically asked. It means the life of any demon who escapes Hell’s Maw without permission is forfeit. Your job as witch-hunter is to keep this balance, although it’s dangerous work. 

You remain mortal, after all.

The number of days off your sentence changes with the target’s difficulty. For example, hunting down a wraith – a former human spirit who sold their soul for vengeance – might only be worth a few days. A hellion, on the other hand, would be worth nearly one hundred. Hellions are the personal stewards of the High Prince of Hell, and few mortals have ever met one and lived to tell the tale.

The one time you met one you lived, though. Somehow you always live – even when you don’t want to.

Stopping at the end of your hall, you stare at the table and wait. It’s not every morning a letter appears, although lately it’s been happening more often. Vaguely, you wonder if something is happening in Hell for so many demons to try and escape. There’s no telling what monstrous edicts the High Prince has up his sleeve.

A flutter of paper interrupts the morning silence, appearing on the table where previously there was nothing.

Reaching out, you tear open the letter’s crimson seal. Extravagant – needlessly so – since only the Witch Council can reach you in the forest. Obviously, they’re the ones sending the letter.

The Witch Council is like that, though – dramatic. 

They always need to be in control, even when there’s no place for you to go. To the south lies Hell, only accessible through Hell’s Maw. To the north lies the wasteland; a vast, arid grassland patrolled by humans and witches alike. It’s highly unlikely you’d escape without being seen and even if you did, where would you go?

If you ever did leave, you’d –

Freezing, you stare at the name written on the card.

For a moment, you can only read and re-read, hoping by some miracle the name before you will change. When it doesn’t, you raise trembling fingers to examine the card in the light. Still, the name does not change.

Park Jimin. High Prince of Hell. 63,500 days.

You reread the words until they start to blur, ceasing to form any rational meaning.

The High Prince of Hell. A delirious laugh leaves your lips because the Council can’t be serious. Park Jimin is Hell. He was once the right hand of God, who rebelled and was cast out of Heaven as punishment. The Witch Council might as well ask you to defeat God himself.

Killing a demon is one thing: to kill an immortal on mortal soil, they’ll die and rematerialize in the immortal realms. To kill a being like Park Jimin is beyond your comprehension. Would he even dematerialize? You’d imagine killing the devil demands a relic, but you haven’t the time, nor the ability to find one.

Aside from spellcasting and potions, relics are the third form of magic. Physical objects imbued with dark magic; they’re the only things capable of truly killing an immortal. Knowing of their existence though, does little, since witches are unable to use dark magic. Your magic is light magic – that which draws from nature, elements, and the energy of life.

A wheezing laugh leaves your lips and you recognize the impossibility of the task laid before you.

“Michael’s sword,” you whisper, voice cracking on the words.

Then – realizing something – you slowly look back at the number of days on the card. 63,500 days if you succeed. That’s the totality of your sentence.

It means that if you kill Park Jimin, you’ll be free.

The word free rings hollow in your ears. It’s been so long since you even considered the notion; you haven’t the slightest idea of where you would go, what you would do with your freedom. Sentenced to 100,000 days of banishment in total, you’d assumed you’d die in this hovel before you saw Virago again.

Although witches are long-lived, seven hundred years is usually the maximum. Being sentenced to three hundred years of the most brutal work imaginable was basically a death sentence, and you’ve treated it as such. But… to be free.

Fingers shaking, you lower the paper again. It’s an impossible target, but for the first time in decades, a bubble of hope rises within you.

Only to be popped when you remember the facts. This is Park Jimin. The High Prince of Hell. Although you’re a talented witch, you can’t possibly hope to defeat a being like that. Flipping over the card, you expect something else – a clue, or a hint – but there’s nothing. The card remains blank.

Shock gradually gives way to anger as a thought occurs to you.

Thus far, you’ve removed one hundred years from your sentence in only seventy years’ total. Many demons have escaped Hell and, frankly, you’ve been very good at retrieving them. At this rate, you’ll be free of your banishment well under your official sentence.

What if the Witch Council is giving you an impossible name because they know you can’t succeed? What if this is their real revenge – either you die, or you sit here and rot for the entirety of your sentence? What if... the Council is removing your loophole? New names are only sent after the previous one has been vanquished, after all.

Fingers curled around the edge of the paper, your gaze darts to the notches carved around your door. Each option you consider seems more dismal than the last. You can either wait in the forest for your remaining one hundred and seventy-four years, or you can go after the High Prince of Hell and possibly – probably – die.

Frustrated, you crumple the paper into a ball. Then, you immediately smooth it out to search for hidden meaning.

If only you had some way to contact the Witch Council. If only you could know whether this is truly a request or an elaborate hoax. That would be unlikely, but then again, so would be the Council ordering you to kill the High Prince of Hell.

Decision made, you turn around and reenter your bedroom. Throwing things into a bag, you don’t leave time for you to second-guess. Faced with two impossible options, you’ll choose a third: leave the Tholoss forest, be taken to the Witch Council and demand they ask their favor in person.

From there, you’ll decide.

Deep down, you already know what your answer will be but can’t help but desire an audience in person. If the Witch Council wants the High Prince gone so badly, they’ll need to tell you that themselves. And perhaps while you visit, you can figure out a way to cross over Hell’s borders.

Shoving this thought aside, you toss a change of clothes in your pack. Slinging this over one shoulder, you check your hunting knives before opening the door and stepping outside.

Like every other morning, mist creeps across deadened leaves like a creature itself. Fog curls and uncurls around your boots as you walk, the leaves making no noise beneath your practiced steps. Rather than head south, towards Hell’s Maw, you turn north.

The wasteland is the last remaining obstacle between the Tholoss forest and the mortal realms. Mortal and witch patrols wait in case demons escape your sword to pose a threat. You head in this direction now – as soon as you appear, the witch patrol will capture you and bring you before the Council.

Leaving the forest will add years to your sentence but at this point, the risk is well worth the reward.

Although you hope this target is fake, foreboding prickles the back of your neck. If your life has taught you anything so far, it’s that the easiest path is never the one laid out before you.

Glancing over your shoulder, you scan the hovel one final time before it disappears, swallowed whole by the forest. When you face forward again, you can’t shake the feeling you’ve seen it for the last time.

[ TO BE CONTINUED ]

LOVELY DEMONS GLOSSARY 

© kpopfanfictrash, 2021. Do not copy or repost without permission. There is no tag list for this story, please do not ask to be added.

[yanderememes]

Solitary Love Chapter 1 (Yandere Giorno x Reader)

Hey yall! So I finally wrote my first fic 😳. Yikes. What a weird feeling. I'm somewhat proud of how it turned out but also nervous haha. Consider this my 1k follower gift 🎉. I really do appreciate all the love and support yall have given me since I started this blog many months ago. I love doing this and love talking with you all about my favourite anime, Jojo! ❤️ As long as you guys are here, I'll be here.

I'm by no means a writer and I do feel like I have a lot to improve on but it's all a learning process. This is a project I've been wanting to do for a while now. So if you're a fan of Yan!Giorno + chaptered fics + slow burn, then you're in for a treat! The first few chapters are gonna be boring though ngl, cuz I have to set up the stage for the more juicy chapters later on 😢

I would love to hear your thoughts on this project (even though it's only chapter 1 lol) and any feedback/comments you guys have to improve my writing or mistranslations on Italian (plz be nice tho, I'm a sensitive little bitch 😅).

This story takes place post-part 5 where Giorno is a 22-year-old Mafia Don. This story is a female reader x Giorno.

Special shoutout to @nanasparadise for inspiring me to publish my first fic 🥰

“They sure are late. Mista and Fugo.”

Giorno had been waiting here for almost half an hour. It was a long day and Giorno was about ready to go home. It was already night time and of course, it had to rain while he was waiting for his ride. Today he had to deal with more drug dealers trying to sell under his turf. Most likely from rival gangs. Usually, Giorno wasn’t the one who would go out on missions. He has plenty of men who could do it for him but he wanted to make an example out of the drug dealers. To show current and potential rival gangs what will happen to them if they try to sell under his territory.

What was taking them so long? Just when he was about to call them, his phone rang.

Speak of the devil.

“Sorry GioGio, got caught in traffic. I don’t know when we’ll be there” Fugo explained

“It’s a Friday night, after all,~” Mista added in the background

“I’ll call you when we’re here”

Not knowing when Fugo and Mista would arrive, Giorno decided to walk around the area to help kill some time. He came across a convention center.

It was 8 PM though. He doubted if it was still open but the light was still illuminated from the windows, so it must be open. Giorno was right as he was able to open the door to the convention center and walked right in.

Upon his little stroll around the convention center hallways, Giorno came across a wall of posters about the events that would take place today.

ComicCon. STAR Dancing. Cybersecurity & Tech. National Women’s Show.

But one poster, in particular, caught his eye.

The Psychological Association. To be discussed: childhood trauma, Stockholm syndrome, the art of persuasion, factors to long-lasting relationships, and more. 6 PM - 8 PM. Room 301B.

Giorno was always somewhat intrigued about psychology. The topics sounded worthwhile, and by the looks of it, a great way to spend time waiting for his ride.

Making his way down to room 301B, he quietly entered. Not a single sound was made since it appeared no one noticed his presence. The room was full and he walked in in the middle of a presentation. Giorno decided to stand beside the door, his back leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets, bringing his attention to the speaker on the stage.

“... L'analisi dei dati ha evidenziato- (the data analysis showed-)”

Oh? Were you a foreigner? Based on your pronunciation, you sounded like one.

The way you spoke was very practiced. You didn’t speak Italian fluently and the tone wasn’t as elegant. Instead, it sounded like you practiced your speech over and over again until it was all ingrained in your memory. Like a robot retrieving their data.

Giorno stood and watched the rest of your presentation, consuming all the information you laid out.

***

“... Grazie per avermi ascoltato (Thank you for listening).” you thanked the audience and concluded your presentation.

He watched as you walked off the stage and scurried back to your group of friends who were cheering you on at the corner. They were praising you with toned downed excitement due to the professionalism here.

Giorno spent the remaining time watching the other presentations until the entire conference came to a close. Pulling his hands out of his pocket, he looked at his gold watch on his left wrist to check the time.

9:03 PM.

It’s been an hour and they’re still not here? How bad was traffic?

He pulled his head back and gave a huge sigh.

Composing himself, Giorno’s eyes landed on your figure. He remembered your presentation even if he wasn’t there for the first half. But your work was interesting. Probably the most entertaining one of the whole night. Though some of the information seemed vague which led him to more questions.

His thirst for knowledge persuaded Giorno to walk up to you. You were alone, thank God. It’d be awkward if your friends were there while he’s trying to get some answers out of you. Giorno prefers to talk to people one-on-one rather than in large groups.

“Buonasera” he greeted.

“Buonasera.”

Giorno thought he should speak to you in English. From his observations earlier, speaking Italian with you wouldn’t serve any use if you didn’t understand. “You did the presentation on the effects of childhood trauma and eating disorders correct? Very interesting work you have.”

You were taken aback by this stranger’s sudden English but you suppose he’s being mindful that you’re a foreigner. At least you can have a decent conversation if he’s speaking English. You weren’t confident in your Italian.

“Grazie. It was for my thesis. I worked long and hard on it. Had many sleepless nights. Living off nothing but coffee and energy drinks” you chuckled at your end remark. Bringing back stressful nights you’ve had to work on your thesis.

Giorno chuckled at your remark too. “I believe it was worth it, no? You had interesting findings and made great points that contribute to your field.”

“That’s true. But I would rather be sleeping on my nice, warm, comfy bed than writing a 50-page thesis.”

“I can’t deny that.” Sleep does sound wonderful. Giorno couldn’t wait to go home and finally get some rest. Being a mafia Don isn’t an easy job. He’s had many sleepless nights himself. He can sympathize with your feelings. But enough of that, time to say what he really came here for.

“I actually had some follow-up questions about your thesis. Mind answering them?”

“Ask away.”

***

“Wow. You seem to know a lot about plants. Did you go to school to study them?”

“I actually never finished school. Everything I know is from my own leisure time in reading.”

You give a lighthearted laugh, thinking that he’s joking and acting like a smartass. No way he’s so knowledgeable about botany from just reading books in his spare time.

But Giorno didn’t laugh with you. His face remained blank and unreadable.

“Wait. You’re serious? You never finished school?”

“Very serious.”

“Oh…” is all you could say. This man was full of surprises. You weren’t sure if your response was because you were shocked at his intelligence or became numb to it.

After this man had approached you and started asking questions about your work, the conference room got loud and it was hard to decipher what each of you was saying. Opting for a quieter location, the two of you left the conference room, where you sat by the nearby staircase. At first, it was like a Q&A. He would ask the questions, you would answer. Eventually, the conversation began branching out to other related topics and before you knew it, you were conversing like you two had known each other for a long time.

Speaking of which. You didn’t grab his name yet. You’ve been talking for a while and not once did it come across either of you to formally introduce yourselves.

“By the way, what’s your-”

“y/n! Time to go! The professor is calling us back.” just as you are about to ask this stranger for his name, your friend interrupted you

“Okay, I’m coming”

You stood up and started walking away but not without waving goodbye to the blonde man with a smile. “Buonanotte”

Oh well. You didn’t learn his name but you doubt you would ever see him again so it’s not a big deal.

“Buonanotte signora.” Giorno smiled back and waved as you disappeared from his sights.

Just then, Giorno felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Looking at the caller ID, it was Fugo. Looks like it was time for Giorno to take his leave too.

***

On the ride home, Giorno couldn’t stop thinking about you and replaying the conversation you two had on the staircase. It was the first time he was ever so engrossed in a conversation with someone before. Oddly enough, he felt safe. Like he didn’t have to play the role of Don Giovanna, Italy’s underground boss, the strongest stand user. He was just Giorno. He could be himself with you.

How strange. What a strange feeling this is. He doesn’t quite know how to describe it.

Intrigued? You were certainly a unique individual. And he’s met quite a number of “unique” people in his bizarre world. But most of these “unique” people he would meet were either already his allies or buried 6 feet under the ground.

He doubts you’re a stand user, but who knows? You shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. Maybe you are one? That would probably explain the attraction. Stand users attract other stand users.

But regardless of whether or not you’re a stand user. You were still different. Giorno wanted to know more about you. You’re just so fascinating. His fatigue seemed to have diminished when he started talking to you. He forgot he was tired. Probably because the conversation was stimulating enough to energize him?

Giorno isn’t one you would call a social butterfly. He acts the part because the role of Don calls for him to be one. But the real him isn’t so extroverted. He can get tired from social events and they’re just so draining. That’s why it was strange to him how he conversed with you for so long. It wasn’t awkward like how most first meetings are. A lot of what he said came out naturally and effortlessly, and you were very receptive. Bouncing a lot of ideas with him and accepting his character.

Whatever the case may be, some unprecedented motivation sparked within him.

He wants to meet you again.

Fugo pulled up on the driveway of Giorno’s villa where several men in suits and butlers were neatly lined up waiting for his arrival.

The man standing in the middle of the line, named Antonio, walked up to the limo where Giorno was in and opened the car door. Almost instinctively, Antonio greeted the Don when he stepped out of his limo.

“Welcome home, Don.” Antonio bowed.

Giorno did not reply. He didn’t move from the spot where he was standing. Antonio couldn’t shut the car door because the Don was standing in the way.

Antonio could tell something was off. The Don is an efficient man. He would never waste time just standing there. Even in his “spare time,” the Don always had something to do. But for whatever reason Giorno was just standing there like he was in deep thought.

Antonio knew better than to ask. It wasn’t any of his business. Nor did the Don have any obligation to tell a simple henchman his problems. Never speak unless spoken to. That was the rule many had to follow when working for Don Giovanna.

“Antonio.” Giorno finally spoke.

“Yes, Don.”

“Provide me with all the information you can find on f/n. I want the report in by tomorrow morning.”

“I will have the report ready for you, sir.”

Giorno only nodded in response and began walking towards his front door.

The night certainly did not end the way he thought it would. But he’s not complaining. It was a pleasant surprise. The day started off horribly when he found out there were drug dealers roaming around his turf, but the night made up for it. He was more than satisfied with how his night ended. The drug dealers have been dealt with and he met someone new.

Was this fate? If Fugo and Mista weren’t caught up in traffic then Giorno may have never encountered you in that conference hall.

No. He must be overthinking it. You two only just met. He’ll probably get over it once he reads the report tomorrow.

But little did both you and Giorno know that this was only the beginning of a darker path.

[alluringjae]

until dawn - ljn

part I | part II

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

⤑ pairing: jeno x female reader

⤑ word count: 14k

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

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

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

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

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

⤑ leave me some feedback, constructive criticism or hellos!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 To my temporary replacement,

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

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

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

Good luck!

 Park Sanghoon

Night Guard on Leave

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How can I make her come around then?”

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

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

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

“How about the second way?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You can never go wrong with Frank Sinatra!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A win he didn’t feel good about.

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

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

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

Nothing more, nothing less.

Weeks passed, and his attempts continued to be unsuccessful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why were you so cold?

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

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

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

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

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

Boom.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you think I’ll be okay again?”

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

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

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

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

Was he with his friends?

Was he resting well?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where is he, Princess Diana?”

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

“Over there.”

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s absolutely beautiful.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why so?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, my. You must’ve jinxed it.

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

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

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

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

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

Lee Jeno specifically was the view.

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

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

Lee Jeno embodied attractive features; both physical and emotional.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can we start over then?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Respectfully,

(Y/N)

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

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

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

[cholie]

With or without you.

Back to masterlist

Pairing: Vampire/Yandere!Jake x Gn!Reader

Genre: Angst, supernatural, slight fluff.

Word count: 2,3K

Warnings: If you don't like yandere stuff don't read, abusive relations, carving in the skin, main character deaths.

Summary: Going to abandoned places with your friends is always exciting, but after losing your necklace and going back to find it, you regret even going there the first time. Or do you?

An: I kinda wrote this in a rush so I’m really sorry if it’s bad or some words dont make sense! But I tried my best and I hope you enjoy it!! NOT PROOFREAD !!

The story is very heavy and filled with obsessive behavior, read at your own risk <3

This is pure fiction and for fun purposes only, I don't view or see anyone in Enhypen to have this type of behavior.

The story is after the line!

It's November, so the sun already being down by the time the clock was 6 pm wasn't very unusual, it was Friday and you were out with your friends, exploring abandoned places. You reached an old looking building, it looked as big as a mini castle, you went inside, turned on your phone's flashlight while walking on the wooden floor, your necklace being in the way and you didn't wanna risk it being on you but rather in your bag while you were exploring this place. You took it off and put it on a table next to you, about to take it up as your friend Yeri began talking making you look away.

"I bet you can't go in there all alone." Said Yeri pointing at a giant door in front of you, cobwebs everywhere, even on the door handle.

"Of course I can, I'm not scared." You lied, you're scared as hell, but if you admit that to your friend she's gonna pick you about it all the time in at least a year.

You heard her chuckle, you smiled at her because you can do it, right?

You walked over to the door, taking a big look at it, it was filled with all kinds of patterns, taking the door handle in hand, you pushed the door open, hearing it creak loudly which send shivers down your spine, you walked through it and on the other side was a ballroom, it was filled with hanging chandeliers, which looked like they were on the very verge of breaking down and hitting the floor.

Walking more towards the middle you noticed how beautiful the room actually was, despite it being old and broken down, it was a stunning room.

You roamed around it and almost got lost in your thoughts as you started to hear weird noises around you, whenever you walked somewhere it was like they were following you, you decided to run back to the door and away from the ballroom to find your friends, but when you arrived back, they were all gone, you looked down at your phone and relaxed a bit as you saw a text saying that they just went outside.

"Hey." You said as you went outside to join your friends.

"Should we walk home? It's getting late and we've been out for long." Said your other friend Heeseung, looking at you while he waited for your answer.

"Ye- Wait I think I forgot something inside the place." You said, a little panic in your eyes, your necklace was missing.

"We can get it tomorrow, it's quite a big piece right?" Said Heeseung rubbing your back, you nodded, it wasn't like you couldn't just get a new one, after all, it was bought down the store 30 min away from you.

-

Going back home you couldn't help but feel like you really weren't done exploring that ballroom, even after being in there for so long, it almost felt like you were meant to be sucked into the place as if you belonged there, it was a weird feeling and while you were counting your money to see if you had enough to survive this month you couldn't keep focus, it was as is you were hypnotized.

-

Going back to the house with Heeseung driving you, you thanked him and went in, hearing him call out one last time.

"Are you sure you can find your way home, it's gonna be really foggy soon?" He said with a concerning smile.

"I'll be fine Hee, don't worry!" You said, giving him a warm smile, he nodded and said his farewell to you as you began walking inside. It was 2 pm so the sun was thankfully at its brighter hours, walking in through the doors you'd usually expect it to be warm, but since no one took care of it, it was ice cold, almost colder than outside.

"Found you!" You said, taking the necklace in hand, weird noises filled your head again, but you decided to ignore them this time, shaking your head.

You walked inside of the ballroom again, finding a place where you can sit down. The sun was shining through the broken glass, everything was peaceful, a little too peaceful since you ended up falling asleep.

*BAM*

With that, your eyes widened and you jumped up from your place, holding on to the place where your heart is, noticing it going at a faster pace than usual. What was that and where did it come from?

You decided to walk to another room, not really caring of what time it was, but you could see that it wasn't much as the sun was still there. On your way out you looked at the wooden floor, just walking in a straight line to get out as fast as you could, suddenly bumping into something, it was soft, but also hard and warm.

"Oh my god I'm so sorry, did you get hurt?" You heard a male voice say, looking up you were met with the softest eyes you'd seen in a while, totally mesmerized by them you forgot to answer him, he walked a little closer to you and took his hand out, signaling for you to take it so you could get up.

"Yeah, I'm fine, sorry I didn't see you." You said taking his hand.

"I'm Jake." He said, with a warm smile, you'd never seen such a beautiful being in your life, he was handsome, his voice was sweet and filled with positivity.

"I'm y/n." You said, smiling back at him.

-

You and Jake hit it off pretty quickly, roaming around the mysterious place and slowly getting to know each other, Jake was comforting, his smile was warm and almost too good to be true.

As you were walking with Jake towards his own home, only 10 minutes away.

"What's your number? I would love to keep in contact" He said, handing you his phone, you wrote the number down including your name, rang to yourself, and did the same for your own phone.

"Thank you for walking me home, it usually gets very lonely being in the abandoned house all alone to explore and the walk home in the dark is just worse." He said, you couldn't help but feel flustered.

"It's no problem! I don't have much to do these days anyway, I just got on vacation." You said smiling at him, exchanging each others goodbye you walked home.

-

Jake was confused, how did you capture his cold heart so quickly? In his 250+ years of living, this is the first time he's been so mesmerized by a mere human being, he could feel that you were different than what he expected, he expected you to be another one of his offers to just drain the blood out of, but no. Jake didn't wanna do that, he felt weird, he wanted to protect you from the cruel world you lived in and have you with him at all times, he knew he had to stay away especially as you've just met, it'll just scare you away if he moved too quickly. But lord and behold, he couldn't.

Jake and you hit it off fairly quickly, you went from texting a few times to facetiming almost every day, you started to fall for Jake, and it concerned Yeri and Heeseung how distant you've been, you've almost not had time for them because you've been busy in both your work but also to hang out with Jake.

-

You've been to Jake's house countless times, it's a nice place and you could easily feel at home there.

"Oh, you're here early!" Said Jake, looking at you with his usual warm smile, but in his mind, he cursed so loudly, he hadn't eaten yet and was afraid that he was gonna go insane any minute now.

As hours went by, you ended up falling asleep on the couch, Jake didn't wanna wake you and went over to finally get his meal, going over to the blood bags he has in his kitchen in a hidden drawer he decided to finally down it all down, he was so hungry, but what he hadn't seen while he was downing it all was a sleepy you, standing and looking at him with shocked eyes.

You had so many questions, but the thing that concerned you was, how were you being so calm? You honestly didn't know either and Jake was so concerned that you would leave now, it drove him mad that you saw him in this state before he was ready to show you it himself.

"Love, I can explain." Jake said, sounding more nervous than he wanted to.

"It's okay Jake, I'm not gonna run away." You said, Jake was confused, why didn't you wanna run away?

"Why not?" Asked Jake, his mouth covered in blood.

"I don't see the need for it, it's not like you're gonna kill me." You said, rubbing your hands together, looking at the kitchen table.

"You're right." Jake said, cleaning himself before going back to the couch with you. Not much of a difference happened after that.

-

You and Jake still hung out, your feelings for each other grew big, you almost couldn't take it anymore. So one night where you cuddled up, you took the chance and you just said it out loud,

"I like you." You said, still looking at the tv playing a random movie.

"I like you too." He said, your heart beating faster than it ever has, the heat in your cheeks burning up.

You looked up to see him staring at you, sure he was dead, but his eyes still looked so soft and delicate, he smiled at you, taking his hand and caressing your cheek, you sat up, still looking at him, hugging him, Jake was surprised, but he hugged you back, you smelled too good for him to let you go, he didn't want to.

You looked at him again, nervous as hell and very red in the face, you wanted to kiss him, but you didn't dare, so he did it instead.

The kiss you shared felt like a thousand fireworks exploding, it was all you needed.

-

As partners, everything felt easier, until a day where you decided to go into the city with Heeseung and Yeri to catch up, Jake was furious and didn't know why, but seeing you with others and getting their full attention made him angry.

*Riiiing*

You saw Jake was calling you.

"Hello, Jakey!" You said, excited.

"Hi love, when are you coming home?" He asked.

"In about an hour." You said, enjoying your time with your friends.

Heeseung drove you home to Jake, Heeseung didn't necessarily like Jake and thought he was being possessive, he controlled who you hung out with, he even made you quit your job, saying that he'll take care of the bills and you could just be staying at home.

You never thought much about it as you were so crazy in love that you almost didn't care what you had to do to be with him.

After Heeseung had driven you home, you went inside the door, putting your bag on the table in the living room, and instantly fell asleep on the couch,

-

You woke up chained to a bed, it's not a bed you've seen before, confused as ever you tried to rub your eyes but you couldn't.

"Hi darling, I see you're awake." Jake said, but his voice was cold and distant, it didn't sound like the bubbly Jake you know.

"Why am I chained?" Was all you asked, looking up at him. He went by you and rubbed your bare thighs as you had short on and an oversized sweater, Jake thought you looked so delicate, but he was furious, why would you hang out with someone else than him? Especially someone who's male, that was the end of the line.

"Darling, you've sinned horribly," Jake said, his eyes weren't soft as they used to be, they were sharp and filled with anger, he looked insane.

"You're mine and I want everyone to know it." He said, he began carving on your thigh, extreme screams were heard from you and tears were falling down your cheeks at a fast pace.

*Jake Sim*

That was what he wrote on your thigh, his name.

"You've been bad, and I can't have you do something like this again." He kissed your lips and went upstairs with some last words.

"I'll be back later, you're gonna think about what you've done." He slammed the door, you couldn't think and everything was a blur, breathing became a difficult task to do, the world was spinning around and before you knew it everything went black.

-

Jake was hungry, he was furious and he didn't know what had taken over him, he didn't wanna drink off of you, your blood was too pure for him to touch, it would hurt him to do that.

He went back down into the basement and went over to you.

"Y/n." That was all he said, looking at your body, you weren't answering.

"Y/n!!" He yelled, still no answer, he walked towards you, looking at your body that he assumed was asleep, caressing your cheek, but you weren't warm, your body was ice cold, Jake became worried as ever and put his hand on your heart, nothing.

"NO!" He yelled, you couldn't die on him, not like this, he checked your scar with his name on it, he had carved too deep, causing you to lose an insane amount of blood. He did everything he could to try and get you back, but nothing helped, not even him putting his venom in your body through a bite, it was too late.

Jake ran upstairs, into a room filled with small gadgets and weapons, taking one specific thing and running down the stairs again.

"I'm not gonna be in a world where my forever love isn't in." He said as he stabbed himself with a wooden stake.

Jake loved you, you loved Jake, but Jake couldn't handle being in this cruel world anymore if he knew he had accidentally sinned by killing his only love.

[veliseraptor]

hghghghghghghghggh

so about two weeks ago now my computer sound was not working - there was a distortion in the audio, but it worked with headphones so the issue wasn’t internal or a driver or anything. so I took it into a computer repair place, they said they’d fix the speakers for $250 but I had to wait 3-5 days for the parts to come in, did I want to drop my computer off?

I, since I didn’t want to not have my computer for that long just waiting for a part to show up, and since it was still technically working I just couldn’t use the sound, was like “nah I’ll bring it back when the part’s ready.” got the notice the part was ready, was like “okay I will go drop it off in the morning, work from the city, and pick it up after work”

(for context, getting from home to the computer repair place and back is a one hour trip each way. two hours commute time total.)

so first I go to drop the computer off when the place opens; there’s no one there. I call the number on their website and the person who picks up apparently...is not actually at the store? and basically says “yeah I’ll contact the person who should be there and let them know”

20 minutes later! guy shows up and opens. I drop off my laptop. in the meantime I have been standing in sweltering heat with no a/c stripped down to a cami to maintain a remotely comfortable temperature. this is fine

anyway, come back at the end of the day and pick up the computer, great, okay, fine, I’m down $250 and that was a bad experience but it’s fixed now! great!

take my computer home (again, an hour commute), pop it open to watch critical role while I’m cooking dinner

the sound still isn’t working.

okay, cool, well, guess I just have to bring it in next week to hopefully get it actually fixed this time, that’s fine and not a problem at all particularly not in a heat wave where I prefer to leave the house as little as possible. whatever! go down after work on Monday, drop off the machine, of course as I’m trying to demonstrate it there it’s working fine. they told me they’d call me the next day

Tuesday, 3pm: I’m going into the city anyways and hoping to combine trips to get this laptop thing finished and my computer back, but nobody’s called to tell me anything about what’s going on. I call the repair place, guy mumbles something about ‘can’t tell what the issue is, hard to determine.’ about a half an hour later I get another message asking for my computer password.

this tells me that nobody even looked at it before I called, most likely.

through a great deal of back and forth, finally at about 6:00 pm they tell me that they don’t know what’s wrong with it and will have to look at it more. I ask for an ETA on when that might be done and they say they’ll update me tomorrow.

it is now 2:00 PM and I have not heard anything. the place closes at 7:00 PM. I need an hour to get there at least. I’m leaving town on Sunday so the last chance I’ll have to pick it up before I’m gone for a week is on Friday.

the saving grace here is that I do have a work computer I can use but the thing about that is that I very deliberately do not use my work computer outside of work, because since I’m working from home that is one of the only ways to delineate my working time from my not-working time, and now I don’t have that so it feels like I’m just never really leaving work. 🙃🙃🙃

anyway I’m going to rip out someone’s spine.

[nyuksw]

Unexpected Date — Sangyeon

genre: angst, smut, fluff | warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, car sex, marking

“Nope, no way.” You quickly said before your friend could even finish his sentence, starting to walk again as fast as you could.

“Y/N please!” Jacob pleaded once again, rushing after you and stepping in front of you to stop you.

You rolled your eyes, “No Jacob I’m sorry, find someone else.” You gave him an apologetic smile and started to walk away leaving him behind.

“But I already told him and he agreed.” He said, making you stop on your tracks and spin around with wide eyes.

“You did what?!”

Jacob smiled sheepishly, starting to fidget with his fingers as a soft chuckle left his lips. “I told him a few days ago and he agreed to be your date for the event.”

You scoffed, “There’s no way he could’ve agreed to that.”

“He did! You know he still l-“

“I don’t want to hear it. I’m not doing this, not with him.” You crossed your arms in front of your chest, throwing him a serious look.

“How do you plan to get another date if the event is tomorrow night?” He raised an eyebrow at you.

“Are you saying I can’t find a date?” You raised both of your eyebrows in surprise at him but he quickly shook his head.

“No, all I’m saying is tomorrow is friday. Most people already have plans, I doubt you would be able to find someone available.”

“Then I’m going without a date.” You shrugged but he only sighed and whined loudly.

“Y/N why are you so stubborn! You must get a date to be able to join the event. Just go with him, it won’t be the end of the world if you do.”

You were taken aback by his sudden loud voice, seeing the poor guy all frustrated in front of you. You sighed, unfolding your arms and waving your hands in the air in surrender.

“Fine, I’ll go.”

“Really?! Thank you!” Jacob picked you up by the waist on his arms and spun you around.

“Yeah yeah, whatever. Just tell him to pick me up on time.” You said fixing your clothes once he placed you back down.

You glared at him one more time but broke into a smile seconds later upon seeing him happy. Shaking your head you turned around and continued walking until you made it into the elevator.

Jacob waved at you, “Oh I gave him your new number so he will contact you!” He yelled but just before you could complain and scold him again, the elevator doors closed.

You arrived back home, doing your daily night routine before getting into bed. You pushed the blankets to the side so you could get in when your phone suddenly buzzed. You took it and unlocked the phone only to find a message from an unknown number.

> Hello Y/N, it 's Sangyeon. I’m just texting you so you can save my number

> That is if you want to

> Jacob already sent me your address, I’ll pick you up tomorrow at 7

You rolled your eyes and threw the phone into the nightstand. How can he text you so easily and act all friendly as if nothing ever happened between you two. You inhaled deeply, getting comfortable on bed and extending your arm to turn off the light but just as you were doing it, the phone buzzed again. It was another message from him,

> Can’t wait to see you again, sleep well :)

You turned off your phone to avoid any other message waking you up. But even then you couldn’t really sleep just by thinking about seeing him again, you were nervous, not even sure why because you two broke up a long time ago. So why was he still the reason for you losing sleep?

Next day came and you started to get ready by 5pm, starting with your makeup and hair. Making sure to take your time without anyone rushing you, you haven’t decided yet what to wear, deciding to leave it at last knowing it would take you some time.

It was around 6 pm and you had already finished, only needing to pick a dress and you’ll be done, but before you could get to it you heard the doorbell ring, frowning you walked out of the bathroom and towards the front door to open it.

“Sangyeon.” You said, voice coming out as a whisper as you were surprised to see him. Of course you were expecting him but you weren’t expecting to meet this new muscular version of him.

“Like what you see?” He said tilting his head to the side with a smirk on his face.

You scoffed, the sudden happiness of seeing him again quickly disappearing, “Come in.” You simply said opening the door for him to walk in, “I need to change, take a seat. I won’t take too long so we can leave.” You glanced at him and turned around to walk towards your room.

But he didn’t stay in the living room, instead he followed you quietly into your room.

“I like the new place.” He said, surprised by his sudden presence you slightly jumped on the spot and turned around. “Why did you move?”

“The other place had so many memories and I wanted to forget everything, I wanted a new fresh start.” You simply said before disappearing into the bathroom again to get changed.

He looked at you, a flash of hurt across his eyes knowing exactly what you meant with that, you were talking about him. Sighing, he went to sit on your bed, patiently waiting for you to come out. A few minutes later the bathroom door opened again and you came out, eyes looking up from his phone only to be glued to your body. You decided to wear a black dress, matching his clothes since you two were on a date for the night, the dress wasn’t too tight but it hugged your curves perfectly.

“You are not going out wearing that.” He said, his face turning very serious as well as his voice.

“Excuse me? Since when do you give me orders?” You frowned.

“You are my date and I’m telling you, you are not wearing that. It’s too revealing, I don’t want every male’s eyes on y-“

“And what if it is? I look good on it and it’s appropriate for the event actually. So I’m going to dress like this whether you like it or not. I'm not asking for your permission and you are not my boyfriend anymore, so keep your opinions to yourself.” You snapped and grabbed your purse, storming out of the room.

The car ride was silent, you could tell he was angry by the way his hands were gripping the steering wheel, glaring at you every chance he got and eyes landing each time on your thighs, the dress slowly riding up. Not only was he already jealous that every guy out there was going to see your body looking so good in that dress, but because he still wanted you as much as he did when you were still dating. Not being able to touch you and kiss you again like he did back then, was harder than what he imagined when he agreed the moment Jacob asked him to be your date for this event.

You on the other hand also kept stealing glances at him. The way you could see his muscles even through the thick material of his dressing shirt, how he rolled up the sleeves with his forearms. The way he gripped the steering wheel, the veins on his arms became more clear every time he did. You started to feel some kind of tingling sensation between your legs and you closed your eyes quickly turning to look out the window, making sure to mentally scold yourself for getting turned on.

He noticed you were looking away and his eyes dropped to look at the way you suddenly pushed your legs together, smirking to himself and raising an eyebrow. He looked ahead of the road while moving his free hand to rest just above your knee. The sudden contact made you whip your head around to look at him but his eyes were glued ahead on the road. You didn’t move his hand away and instead looked ahead too, trying to focus on something else but failing when you felt his hand moving up towards your thigh and stopped there. Again, you turned around to look at him but he was simply driving, acting like nothing was happening. You inhaled deeply when you felt his hand massage the skin, almost squeezing your thigh.

“I told you the dress was too revealing, didn’t I? Just look at the way it rides up, barely covering you.” He clicked his tongue. His fingertips ghosting over the skin, leaving goosebumps as they moved further up until they felt the hem of your dress, tugging it slightly. “Looks so inviting.” He said moving his fingertips to caress your inner thigh, almost too close to your clothed core just to suddenly pull them back eyeing you “But I can’t do anything about it since we are not dating anymore.” smirking when you pressed your legs together again.

“Sangyeon...” you said, your voice coming out lower than expected, in a needy tone.

“What is it, Y/N?” He was faking a sweet concerned voice.

“Please touch me.” Your voice came out as a whine, but you didn’t care at the moment. You just wanted him to do something about it.

“Right now? But I’m driving.” He was playing hard to get and if it wasn’t because you were really horny at the moment you would’ve done something about it. But here you were, being at his mercy without him even doing something yet.

“Please, just use your free hand, your fingers… please.”

He licked his lips, swallowing hard. “Alright, open your legs for me.”

You did as he said and opened your legs, leaning back against the seat as his hand sneaked between your legs, pushing the panties to the side and groaning when he felt your wet pussy, running his fingers across your slit teasingly before pressing two digits against your clit and rubbing the sensitive bud, eyes still glued on the road as your moans filled his ears.

“You know what, this won’t do.” He said pulling his hand away from you, making you whimper at the sudden loss of contact.

He pulled up into a dark and empty alley between buildings, where people wouldn’t pass by or notice the activities happening inside the car. He removed his seat belt and climbed on top of you while pushing back the seat even further so that you two were laying down. He positioned himself between your legs, taking a moment to look at your exposed and wet pussy while biting his lip.

“You wore this to get my attention, didn’t you?” He said, moving his eyes to look at yours.

“Get over yourself, you’re not that important.” You rolled your eyes.

He clicked his tongue, “Don’t be a brat or I’ll stop and drive back to the party.” he slid his hand up your body to wrap around your neck firmly. “You wanted to get the attention of every male at the party, didn’t you?”

His other hand slid down his own body to unbutton his pants, pulling them down along with his underwear until his dick sprung free against your inner thigh, making you buck your hips against him but he pressed you back down into the seat firmly.

“You’re still mine, no matter how hard you try to forget me and how many guys you sleep with, no one fucks you the way I do.” He said starting to grind on you, his cock rubbing against your folds making you clench around nothing. “See? Even your body knows it.”

He leaned down and kissed you roughly, he aligned the tip at your entrance and thrusted into you, making you moan against his lips. “Only I can make love to you.” He murmured against your lips.

His thrusts were slow but deep, hitting your spot each time. His mouth was busy trailing kisses all over your neck making sure to leave marks on you. “I want everyone to know you’re mine.” His hand moved to cup your boobs and pulled down the dress and bra, immediately moving to kiss all over them and suck on your nipples, twirling the hard buds with his tongue. His head was buried in your chest, starting to move his hips faster.

He lifted his head and moved to kiss you again, “I missed this, I missed you.” You murmured against your lips. His hands took yours in his and pinning them above your head as he started to thrust harder. You wrapped your legs around him, pushing him even further against you with your feet. You were moaning softly, almost holding them back and he noticed. Sneaking a hand between your bodies until he found your clit, quickly stimulating it and moving his lips next to your ear.

“I know you can be louder than that.” He growled into your ear, taking your earlobe between his teeth and pulling it. “I want you to scream my name, I need to know that you also missed me as much as I did.”

“I-I’m close.” You said between moans, starting to clench around him and you closed your eyes. Nails digging on his back as you loudly moaned his name once you reached your orgasm. “Can I cum inside you?” He asked, head buried in your neck and you nodded. He thrusted a few more times, hips slowing down when you felt him twitch inside you, feeling warm from his cum coating your walls.

He collapsed on top of you, being careful not to hurt you, both of you laying there and catching your breath. He lifted his head to look at you, placing a sweet kiss on your cheek and pulling out. He extended an arm to the backseat and grabbed a box of tissues, helping you to clean the mess. Once you both fixed your clothes in silence, he returned to the driver's seat but didn’t start the car and instead looked down to his lap.

“I’m sorry.” Was all he said. You didn’t know how to respond and before you could even think about it he spoke again, “Breaking up with you has been my biggest mistake.”

“Why did you do it? You left without giving me any explanation. Do you know how bad I felt every day just overthinking every single thing trying to tell what could’ve been the reason for you to break up with me.” You said with hurt evident in your voice but feeling like weight was lifted off from you now that you get to talk about it with him.

“I was dumb and immature back then and it wasn’t easy for me to commit in a relationship, I guess it was easier for me to leave before I could hurt you.”

“But you did hurt me in the end.” You whispered.

“I know and I have regretted it every single day since then. I realized that commitment wasn’t the problem, because I was so sure and determined to be with you. But I was actually scared because I have never felt that way before, I loved you so much. I... I still do.”

You looked at him, he was avoiding eye contact at first but the moment he turned to look at you, you could see it in his eyes that he was telling the truth. All this time you thought he simply didn’t love you enough, and truth be told you still loved him too. You tried to forget about him by dating other people but no one ever made you feel the way he did.

“I still love you too, Sangyeon.” You whispered and you saw the way his eyes sparkled when he heard those words.

“You do?” He asked and you nodded, smiling at him.

“Would you like to start again with me?” His eyes glistened with hope.

“Yes.” You smiled softly at him.

He broke into a big grin and a cute giggle escaped his lips, leaning in towards you he cupped your face and caressed your cheek with his thumb. “This time I’ll do things right.” He whispered and with that he closed the gap between you two, kissing you softly yet pouring all his emotions into it.

You pulled away and he rubbed the tip of his nose against yours, smiling to himself as he felt a wave of happiness wash over him.

“Now let’s go or we will arrive late!”

[songmingisthighs]

[15.08] badboy!seonghwa × reader

⇀ had you known that's why he confessed, would you have accepted him ? Or smack his annoyingly perfect face with your laptop ?

⇁ part 1 / 2

⇁ prologue part 1 / 2 / 3

Things had gone great between you and Seonghwa. You and he would often meet at your dorm or at the diner at least three times a week.

You'd ask him why you both never hung at his dorm but his answer was that he doesn't want the boys to disturb your 'quality time'.

Normally you'd question answers like that, but the way he looks at you and holds your hand made you forget why you even wanna ask that in the first place.

But like all things, everything dissipates with time.

Nearing the end of the semester, group projects lessen and solo assignments accumulate which put a strain between your and Seonghwa's hangout time. You've tried convincing him that you both can hang out whilst doing your solo assignments but you remembered how his eyes trailed after a girl as you spoke at one of your last hangouts at the diner.

Seems like he's lost interest in you too.

Which, it sure hurts, but you both were never official and neither had verbally confirmed to the other about their feelings. It sucks.

But you power through.

You pretend that his silence during class's group discussion didn't affect you, you pretend that when he immediately pack up his stuff to leave the class and only throwing you a polite smile didn't make your heart wrench, you pretend that him ghosting you didn't make you feel both embarrassed and angry at the same time.

You're light and breezy.

Heck, you're so light and breezy, you still go to that diner every Friday all alone. And it's not because you had hoped to see one particular man.

Even though you did.

When he was on a date with some girl who's obviously very pretty.

On the booth you both had 'claimed' as 'your booth' without ever verbally saying it.

"Hi, excuse me," a voice broke your train of thoughts.

You look up from your book to see a really handsome man standing in front of you with a smile on his face. He looks very handsome, definitely mixed-race, and he has this chill aura on him that is honestly refreshing to you.

"Sorry to bother you, but can I sit here?" He asked. You look around to see that there are a lot of other places left in the library where he could've sat.

Sensing your apprehension, the man raised both of his hands, "I'm not a creep or a weirdo, I'm just very particular about where I work,"

He's got a point. So you just nodded, "sure, it's not my table or anything anyways, you could've just taken a seat without asking my permission," he shrugged as he put his things across you, "I mean sure, but you seemed like you don't wanna be bothered and this particular spot has the best walking distance to anywhere at all and plus the secret charging port? Genius," he said, grinning proudly.

You raised your eyebrows at him, "you seem to know your way around the table, mister..." you trailed off to which he immediately caught on, "Hansol, Choi Hansol, but my friends calls me Vernon," he held his hand out for you to shake, "(Y/N), (Y/N) (Y/L/N), and why Vernon?" "My english name, I'm half American,"

And with that, you got yourself a new friend.

Vernon is a computer science major, and the other thing major about him is his nerdiness. And his hotness. Which is a ridiculous combination.

Ever since that day in the library, you both somehow find the other popping up everywhere. Just a day after your first meeting in the library, he came into the café you part-timed at. He came in to order 13 drinks and several pastries, shocking you at first but then he told you he lives in a frat house with 12 other guys and that he's not a caffeine addict.

Then you both bonded over the many sessions in the library which eventually venture out to sitting together during lunch, and then suddenly you both started meeting outside campus.

And this did not go unnoticed by Seonghwa.

"Hey, Seonghwa, how well do you know (Y/N)?" Hongjoong asked, breaking Seonghwa's glare on you and Vernon from all the way across the cafeteria.

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow at him, "(Y/N) from my statistics class?" As if he hadn't considered you as something more at some point, "I'd say well enough as a groupmate, why?" He asked back.

Hongjoong nodded towards you and Vernon with his chin, "Vernon there saw you both working together and he wants to make sure he won't be stepping on anyone's toes when he's making a move on her,"

At that moment, Seonghwa almost choked on his fries. Too surprised with the fact that you've possibly moved on from him so quickly.

It's only been a month and a half since you both stopped hanging out outside of obligation.

Hearing that made his blood boil and he's pretty sure it's not jealousy. Most likely territorialism. HE took interest in you first waaaaay before Vernon did.

The smile and laugh you give Vernon was supposed to be for him. He used to make you laugh so hard at any stupid pun he concocted in his head. No matter how stupid it is nor how much it doesn't make any sense.

To be completely honest, he didn't know why he pulled away from you in the first place. He had been so comfortable with you, never once had he ever let his guard down and just be carefree, not even with his closest friends.

He needs to get you back to him.

No matter what.

So he made his move the next time you both had statistics again.

Unlucky for him though, the professor decided to not have any group discussion that day which threw Seonghwa's plan out the window. But thankfully he still remembered your schedule, you don't have any class after statistics which means you'd be grabbing a simple lunch before your part-time job starts until 8 pm.

So he waited patiently for the bell to ring.

Legs bouncing in anticipation as his eyes flit towards the clock every five minutes.

When the professor finally dismissed the class (10 minutes later than he's supposed to, as per usual), he immediately put all his belongings back in his bag and ran after you. Somehow you've mastered the art of cleaning up quickly over the month and a half without him.

"(Y/N)! Wait!" Seonghwa called.

You stopped in your tracks and turn your head to see Seonghwa jogging towards you with that stupid, charming smile on his face.

Damn his good looks.

"Yeah? Is there something wrong?" you asked him when he caught up to you. He raised an eyebrow at you, confused as to why you'd think there'd be anything wrong.

"Ah!" you suddenly exclaimed, "Is this about my part of the presentation? Don't worry, I'm close to finishing it, I should be able to compile it in the PPT tonight by... 9.30-ish? I have to finish my shift at the café," you explained.

He chuckled at you, deep voice that you oh so missed ringing in your ears, "wha- no, (Y/N), I'm not here to talk about our project, I just wanna... talk with you," he said, tilting his head to the side slightly. It somehow made him look both hot and cute at the same time. Which doesn't make sense.

Now it was your turn to raise an eyebrow at him while crossing your arms, "why? No offence, Seonghwa, but you've kinda been blowing me off for the past month and a half now, what makes you think I'd have anything to talk with you about?"

Those words coming out of your mouth shocked him. It's not like he didn't expect some apprehension from you, but hostility? Boy, you must've been really affected by his shitty doings.

"I-I- no, (Y/N), I haven't been blowing you off," bullshit, even he knows that, "I've just been really-" "really... what? Absent? Ghosty? Hot and cold? Whatever it is, Seonghwa, you don't owe me any explanation," you tried your best to not roll your eyes at him because honestly, how dare he blew you off and now acting like he didn't whilst hoping you don't notice what he has been doing.

What did he take you for? One of his brainless bimbos?

Surprised at your words, Seonghwa was left stunned. You waited for a solid 10 seconds for him to say something. Anything.

Literally, how hard is it to say sorry?

Realizing he wouldn't realize what he's supposed to do, you just shook your head at him, "I'll finish inputting and editing my part by tonight, I'll see you in class next week, Seonghwa," you said before walking away.

You would've thought that he'd take the hint and go back to ignoring you.

But now, of course not. He's stubborn and he plays by his own rules. It's an understatement to say that you were shocked when you saw him entering the café nearing the end of your shift.

Despite the shock of seeing him, you pretended like nothing's wrong and do what you're supposed to do to any other customer as per usual.

Heck, you'd give yourself a pat on the back, head, and butt for being so calm whilst handling Seonghwa. You managed to keep that "strictly professional" smile on your face as you take his orders, you didn't fumble when he made small talks as you typed in his orders into the computer (like really, who the heck said "good thing tonight's not cloudly, love the moonlight," ??), and you didn't flinch when your hands accidently touch as you hand him his strawberry frappucino.

Yes, the badboy strictly and secretly drink sweet, fruity drinks.

You'd thought that his presence was merely a coincidence. As he waited in his table, you had assumed that he's waiting for some girl (who isn't you, sadly) so all you wanna do is run out of there as soon as you can.

"Hey, Jaemin," you called your co-worker who's in the middle of sipping his 6 shot americano at 8 pm, "I'm gonna head out, okay? Think you can hold the fort until Yena's here? She said she has to turn in an assignment, that's why she's late,"

Jaemin just rolled his eyes at you, "(Y/N), I'm drinking coffee that's powerful enough to paralyze a horse, I can definitely handle the slow Wednesday night crowd," he said sarcastically to which you laugh.

After getting your things from your locker in the back room, you proceed to go out through the front door.

Unbeknownst to you, Seonghwa had followed behind.

You were only several steps away from the café when suddenly Seonghwa caught up to you and grab your hand.

Knowing that it's quite late and it's dark, Seonghwa should've known better. You honestly only feel slightly bad for punching his chest.

Slightly.

Like 2%.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Seonghwa you scared the devil out of me!" You exclaimed after realizing that it was just him, pulling your hand away from his grip. He coughed, trying to ease oxygen back to his lungs after you had brutally knocked them out.

"Guess I deserved that," he coughed out, but he was smirking as if he's amused by your attack, "sorry, I was just- I need to talk to you," he said, looking at you pleadingly.

"Well, it doesn't seem like that for the past month and a half, Seonghwa, you seemed just about done with me," you said while crossing your arms, your expression showing nothing but disdain at him. He seems to feel remorse after seeing how you looked at him. Never once did you showed any negativity nor hostility to him during the time you both spent together.

Seonghwa didn't really know what made him pull away from you. All he was sure of is that he felt something so strongly about you to the point that it scared him so much. He never felt the need to be with someone as much as when he was with you. He found himself thinking about you when you're both not together, he found himself only focusing on you and nothing else when you both are together, and he found his vulnerabilities open for you to access.

It scared him to hell and back when he realizes that there is a possibility of him wanting something more from you.

With you.

The man before you sighed, "I... Have no excuse for how I acted recently but believe me when I said that I regret pulling myself away from you because I'm scared, you're too good to and for someone like me, you deserve the best and I wanna be the best for you," he stepped closer to take both your hands in his, his eyes were genuine which rendered you incapable of being too mad at him, "I wish I could rewind the time and take back what I did, I never should have pulled away from you, I should have just told you the truth," he said.

For a second, he forgot about his image and he just let whatever he was feeling out, he wanted to make sure that you understand how he truly feels.

Both of you stood in silence, just staring at each other as he rubs his thumb on the back of your hand. With the way you're staring at him now, he was sure that your initial resolve had completely melted.

But suddenly from his peripheral vision, he saw Vernon coming out of a bookstore across the road and was looking around.

Remembering what prompted him to get closer to you again, he pulled you in close into his arms, a hand to your cheek and lips just centimetres away from his.

"So? Would you please give me another chance to show you how much you mean to me? Not as just some guy from your statistics class," his words made you chuckle and roll your eyes, "but as your boyfriend," he said before he could stop himself.

Your eyes widened, "m-me? With y-you? Boyfriend and girlfriend?" you choked out, not believing your ears in the first place. You wanted to make sure that he's not kidding, making a joke or making a fool out of you.

Instead of answering, however, he simply leaned in and places his lips softly on yours. The kiss was sweet, it conveyed how much he wants and misses you. For some reason it made you feel comforted, he feels like home and his arms makes you feel safe.

So then and there, you kiss him back as a form of an answer to him.

When you both finally pull away, you both could see dumb smiles decorating the other's face, proof of happiness over what just happen.

Remembering that you're in the middle of the road and there are people around you, you pulled away from his arms first but reached to tangle your hand in his.

"Come on, I believe I owed my groupmate my part of the presentation," you started as you walk, pulling him with you.

But as you walk, you turn your head at him to throw a flirty smirk, "boyfriend" you said, making him grin so wide, it could rival a Cheshire cat.

Maybe you and he isn't a bad idea at all.

All you can do now is hope that he won't break you.

[blossom-hwa]

inspired by 'rush hour’ (gaho).

wc: 2.6k ~ changmin x gender neutral!reader ~ slice of life!au ~ triggers: none ~ the boyz masterlist ~ 4 year anniversary drabble game (requests closed!)

for chair anon :)

[ 6:00 pm : rush hour ] I try going forward to you But I lose you at this dead end

.

The traffic light is still green. Changmin sighs, tapping the board flipped up by his side. It’s been green for what feels like forever - is it ever going to turn red so that he and the growing group of pedestrians around him can move across this short stretch of the street?

If he wasn’t going to meet someone, he might just take a chance in the lulls of traffic and race the cars, letting them honk angrily as he jaywalks - jay-skates? jay-boards? There probably isn’t proper terminology for that, but jay-boards sounds okay - past, flashing them a quick smile to infuriate them a little more. It’s okay. This street isn’t too crowded. The only cars that pass through are usually old businessmen making their way back home to penthouse apartments, so Changmin feels less than guilty for screwing around with their evening.

But he is meeting someone. A very special someone, in fact. Someone who told him on no account was he going to jaywalk or jay-board (he’ll have to tell you about the new word he invented when he gets to you) if it meant risking his safety. So Changmin sighs, taps his board some more, and waits at this seeming dead end of a street corner where the green light never turns red.

.

It’s alright alright alright It’s alright alright alright

.

It’s alright. Changmin smiles as the flow of traffic begins to cease, lights on the streets ahead turning red. He can wait a little longer to cross the street legally.

Anything for you, after all.

.

I’m talking in circles around you But you always pass right by

.

Changmin still can’t quite believe his luck, even months later. He doesn’t know how he managed to catch your attention, the small skater he was who stayed quiet around others, really only raising his voice in the presence of his friends.

You were the noticeable one. You were the one with the guitar slung on your back and a friendly smile always on your face. You were the one everyone had a crush on, platonic or romantic. You were the one everyone flocked around at the park on weekends, sitting on a bench, strumming the strings of your instrument with the softest grin on your lips. If it wasn’t for Younghoon accidentally tripping over your guitar and subsequently you, sending you flying into Changmin as he rolled past trying to escape the monitor chasing after him, it might never have happened. Changmin might never have had the chance to do anything more than admire you from afar.

And what would’ve happened then?

.

It’s alright alright alright Who cares? I’m alright

.

But who cares? Changmin grins. It’s alright, yeah? Because you noticed him anyway, and even if he got a detention for skating indoors, it was worth it when you offered to buy him a coffee in apology for inadvertently getting him caught by the hall monitor.

It was the coffee that turned him into even more of a stuttering mess than he would’ve been. It was also the coffee that gave him the bit of energy and courage he needed to keep talking anyway.

It was the coffee, ultimately, that got that blinding smile turned in his direction. And it was the coffee that got him your number for future conversations, future meetups at the park, and eventually, a date.

The light turns green. Changmin nimbly leaps on his skateboard and rolls across the street, grinning.

Who cares about how it happened, in the end? As long as it did.

.

Everyone tries to get your attention One by one, honking at you

.

Honking sounds follow Changmin down the sidewalk as he weaves around office workers rushing home, people ducking in and out of small restaurants and cafes, either alone or holding someone else’s hand. His grin widens at the sight of a laughing couple that just manages to dodge around his board, giggles undeterred by the sudden interruption.

What will it be like when he gets to you? Will the crowds at the park be as large as the ones cluttering the streets? Will he even be able to see you on your bench, surrounded as you might be with children and parents and teenagers trying to get a peek at your guitar?

.

But I hope my voice can reach you Turn that music on

.

Does it matter, though? Changmin pauses at another intersection, watching the cars go honking past. Just the same way he can pick out your voice singing above the sound of the guitar, you can pick out his eyes, smiling at you from within the crowd.

You’ve always noticed him. He’s always noticed you.

There’s no reason that should stop now.

.

I got stuck on you My heart is in chaos right now

.

God, it feels like nothing’s changed since the day he realized he had a crush on you. His heart still flutters at the sound of your voice, his lips widening in a smile at the thought of your eyes.

.

I got stuck on you As if I’m stuck in traffic

.

The traffic light turns red again. Changmin skates across the street, ignoring the impatient honking of cars that follows him down the sidewalk. It’s kind of like the traffic clogging the streets, his adoration for you - stuck in one place, going with the flow but never really seeming to move.

Though if traffic meant he could stay with you forever, he wouldn’t mind it so much, really.

.

I want drama between you and me Trying to escape this trauma

.

It’s kind of like a drama, isn’t it? Unnoticeable boy, very noticeable love interest. Though maybe the roles are flipped - very noticeable main character, unnoticeable boy - because it doesn’t feel like Changmin has ever been the protagonist of this story. You’re the main character, and he’s the love interest who will support you in everything that you do.

.

Drama with you Feeling like it’s rush hour

.

Changmin grins, feeling wind rush past his face as a car speeds past.

If this is his part in the drama, it isn’t such a bad role to play.

.

I try to jump right into you But the conversation keeps cutting off

.

His phone buzzes. Not bothering to stop - you’d yell at him for that, but it isn’t as life-threatening as jay-boarding across the street and you’re not here to scold him for it - Changmin pulls it out, deftly navigating his way around a group of office workers as he accepts the call. “Y/N?”

“Hey, Changmin.” He can hear your smile through the phone. “You on your way?”

“Of course,” he replies, almost affronted. You agreed to meet at six - why would he be late? “Why aren't you playing? Is your little concert over?” You don’t usually end early.

“No, just a lull in traffic.” Your laugh sounds like music. “I’m taking a pause and thought I’d call. Almost here?”

“Almost,” he promises, rolling to a stop at the next intersection with a sigh. “The actual traffic here is murder.”

“Okay, sounds good.” When you pause, Changmin can hear the babbling of a little kid faintly over the phone - something about guitar and please? “I’ve got to go back in a minute. See you soon?”

“Go please your audience,” he replies, smiling. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Get here safe.” You pause again. “You weren’t talking to me while on your board, right?”

Changmin stays silent. His silence is much more telling than anything he’d say, anyway.

“Changmin.”

“Y/N,” he mimics in your tone of voice. Serotonin floods his brain when you snort a laugh into the phone. “I’ll be safe, I promise.”

“You better be,” you warn. “Bye, Changmin.”

.

It’s alright alright alright Turn that music on

.

He grins, already looking forward to hearing the strumming of your guitar in person, not over the phone. “Bye, Y/N.”

.

Everyone tries to get your attention One by one, honking at you

.

Two intersections later, Changmin finally finds himself at the entrance of the park. Children and their parents still abound despite evening quickly approaching, so he keeps to the sidewalk, carefully avoiding any paths full of shouting kids. It’s okay. Changmin knows the ways to your bench better than the back of his hand. A few honking cars and yelling toddlers can’t keep him from you.

All roads lead to you in Changmin’s world, after all.

.

I got stuck on you My heart is in chaos right now

.

The expected crowd surrounds your bench when Changmin finally steps off of his board. Fridays are always the busiest days, after all - people celebrating the end of the work week with a walk in the park and, by chance, some music as well.

He hears you before he sees you, crowds obscuring your face but not your voice that carries sweetly through the air, accompanied by the strumming of your guitar. Changmin didn’t think the smile on his face could get any wider, but when the first chords reach his ears, it somehow does.

Your voice is music, even more so than the instrument in your hands.

.

I got stuck on you As if I’m stuck in traffic

.

Then your face appears in a crack between the crowd as Changmin edges his way through, eyes closed in peace as your fingers pluck easily at the guitar strings. And nothing really has changed, nothing at all, just like the traffic stuck in rush hour -

Because as he watches you sing, Changmin feels himself falling in love with you all over again.

.

I don’t wanna lose you, never I just wanna hold you all day

.

Sometimes, when Changmin sees you like this, body framed in the pink and gold and orange of the descending sun, he panics. A part of him seems to think that when the sun finally dips below the horizon to be replaced by the moon overhead, it’ll take you with it, sparkling eyes and musical voice and all. Even your guitar. Because in moments like these, it feels a little like you’re an illusion, something too perfect to be true.

But then -

Your eyes open. They search the crowd like they’ve done it a million times (perhaps they have). They meet his, and immediately the sparkle brightens until it’s even brighter than the sun overhead, and it’s then that the panic fades because Changmin knows you’re real. Knows you’re not an illusion.

What illusion would become even more beautiful, after all, just because he happened to be there?

.

Even if the numbers on the calendar switch up I’m only thinking about you

.

Day by day, week by week. The routine is the same - you two get home from school, Changmin goes to work while you go home, and if it’s a Friday or a surprisingly free weekday, he’ll meet you at the park at six, like clockwork. You’ve been doing this for months now, almost a year - if it were anything else, Changmin is sure he would’ve gotten bored at this point.

But when you smile at him again before turning to the crowd and announcing your last song, Changmin knows he could never find it in himself to be bored with this. It’s you, after all, always you.

Day by day, week by week, it’s always been you.

.

You’re swimming in my ocean The waves keep growing larger

.

You sing a last song with a lilting voice, something about oceans and sunlight and waves whirling around you like the warmest hug. Changmin’s smile softens as you sing, fingers tapping his board not out of ennui this time, but to keep the beat of the music flowing from your guitar and from your lips. The waves of your voice wrap their arms around him, growing, growing, settling soft on his skin.

.

You’re swimming in my ocean You’re on my mind

.

Waves, crashing waves that mix with laughter and warm sunlight beaming down on the water. The beach is a couple of hours away - Changmin wonders if you might like to go when summer comes and you have a little more time to spare - but it doesn’t matter, not when he’s already swimming, laughing in the ocean of your voice.

.

I got stuck on you My heart is in chaos right now

.

You finish the song with a last chord and a smile, bowing in reply to the childish shouts and claps from the audience. Changmin lifts up his board to join the applause, eyes fixed on you and you only as you turn around to finally meet his eyes.

“Hey,” he says, and he knows you hear his voice even over the applause still carrying all around you.

Your smile widens as you step forward to give him a kiss. “Hey, yourself.”

.

I got stuck on you As if I’m stuck in traffic

.

Changmin helps you pack up your guitar, helps you organize the loose change and bills that some kind people left in the case. You get excited when you realize it’s enough to treat him to a meal that you make him swear not to pay for - he’ll try to, you both know, it’s just a matter of being faster than the other - and then Changmin lifts up his board with one hand and takes yours in the other. His fingers tangle with yours automatically, a promise to never let go. “Should we go?”

You nod, smiling. “Come on.”

.

I want drama between you and me Trying to escape this trauma Drama with you

.

It really is like a drama, Changmin thinks as you two walk out of the park, hands still locked together as you enter the busy streets once more. It’s cheesy, definitely, but does it matter? It’s the only way he can describe this perfection of the moment, holding hands with you as you argue over where to eat for dinner.

Changmin leans down to kiss your nose. You laugh at the touch of his lips to your skin, fingers involuntarily squeezing his.

He swears he hears music in his ears.

.

I want drama between you and me Trying to escape this trauma

.

Definitely cheesy. Definitely a drama.

You smile at him, and his heart flutters.

But when you make him feel this way, does it really matter?

.

Drama with you feeling like it’s rush hour

.

Another light turns green before you can make it across the intersection, so Changmin pulls you to a stop before you can accidentally take the next step into the street. “Now do you know why I’m always so impatient?” he asks, casting a pointed glance at the board under his arm.

“Yeah, kind of.” You roll your eyes. “Maybe we should stop agreeing to meet at rush hour.”

Six o’clock. Peak traffic. Rush hour. Just like Changmin’s mind, forever stuck on you, waiting at a traffic light that never seems to change.

But when he’s stuck on you, it really isn’t so bad.

“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “I like it.”

Your eyes sparkle into his. Changmin squeezes your hand and smiles.

“I think we can keep it as is.”

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 heart for the couple, they were so wonderful to write :D)