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alluringjae · 3 years

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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.”

779 notes · View notes

studiojeon · 3 years

Text

troubled outsiders | intro - jjk

| summary | - how you two end up pining for each other.

warnings: none :)

content: idol!jungkook x student!oc, friends to lovers (because it’s THE superior trope okurrrt), jungkook is quiet and shy but a social butterfly when needed (and when it comes to oc but you’re not supposed to know that yet), oc is both a badass and a socially akward queen, she has TWO friends and only because one is dating the other (like... same), the Lee Charyeong is her bestie, oc works at bighit and feels like everyone either fears her or hates her, author nim is a crackhead and has no plot planned for this series whatsoever (doesn’t know if she’ll keep this up, we’ll see).

words: 1.93 k

His presence was overwhelming, to say the least. Even if he were surrounded by six hundred other equally handsome men, somehow, to you (and the majority of the female population, at that point) he was as captivating and magnetic as they come. Jeon Jungkook didn't pay no mind to no one, but sure as hell everyone became hyper aware of his existence and essence in time. And that didn’t exclude you.

Yet, as nonchalant and indifferent as the man could be perceived, in reality he was more considerate and friendly than the aura he exuded. You knew this because working in the same company had to teach a thing or two about the people who literally carried said company and the whole industry at some point, still you barely knew four or three people, including your assistant and Jungkook, whom you had met once.

The opportunity of working at the company had come to you out of the blue, quite literally, you were attempting to send one of your assignments in when an email appeared in your notifications during your sailor moon study break.

HYBE Entertainment

We’re glad to inform you that you’re being recruited for the position of Logistics Manager in one of our sub companies, BIGHIT Entertainment. We’ve thoroughly looked through the CV you’ve submitted and are very interested in your capabilities and what you can contribute to our organization. One of our other managers will gladly meet you on a day you can both agree on. Make sure to answer this email to get more details about your interview.

“Nani!? THE FUCK?” sure as hell that your eyes and cognitive functions were deceiving you (ADHD) you went over the text a little over three times in a row before the message settled in your mind. This was sus.

Before even considering a reply you made a quick call. “Fucking Lee Chaeryeong” you spat on your end of the line. “You did this, didn’t you?”.

Her silence was more than enough to have you cursing her under your breath. “I don’t know what exactly you’re talking about but it most likely was me. Does it have to do with a sex toy in particular?”

“No” you denied almost monotonously, guessing the pile of boxes in the corner of your room with her names on them was what she referred to. “Does anything come to mind if i mention BIGHIT FUCKING ENTERTAINMENT?”

It was her. All those conversations during the summer about how badly you wanted to work in the entertainment business as marketing staff of some sort had their effect on your friend, who, despite all your excuses and denials, knew you better than you and your mom combined did, and because of this, was sure as hell you were not making a move towards that goal whatsoever. So, being the boss bitch she was, she took matters into her own hands, was what she explained.

You concluded that was the reason you had reached a point in your life where you had more experience than most recently graduated kids in your field, because Chaeryeong had you moving every summer break. You had been the manager of a coffee franchise and convenience store during you junior and senior years, and also figured a way to improve the marketing management strategy of a fucking restaurant while at it. Not to toot your own horn, but you were kind of cool.

Or not. “I hope this job satisfies your workaholic ass for once, I’m running out of ideas”. Chaeryeong spat before hanging up.

Sure as hell it would.

On friday afternoon, you made your way to the HYBE INSIGHT building and introduced yourself to your recruiters who promised to give you a call at some point. “It went fine” you told Chaeryeong once you were in your car. And it was the truth, however you weren’t so sure if they would actually hire you at some point since well, you were a girl in a male dominated industry and, in your opinion, there were always better people than you. “Wanna go grab coffee?”

“I want to. But, I have practice today. I’m actually on my way there. Please avoid driving through Hongdae today, this shit’s packed.” You sighed and thanked her for the heads up. You missed your friend, badly. You hadn’t seen each other in three weeks, and you didn’t even live so far away from each other (you did, but it had been worse before). You two had very agitated lives to say the least. Chaeryeong was a kpop group member, and well, you were jumping from job to job and getting your phD in Business Management at the same time. It was hard to find moments to spare together during some periods of the year, but you guess the anticipation made your encounters better.

“Talk about anticipation” you slammed your forehead against your desk, taking a breather after such an anxiety packed situation. Short story: you got the job (for some fucking reason). And you had gone through a whole week of expectancy and anguish. Not getting that job would have broken your heart, and ego at the same time.

You guessed the law of attraction tactics Chaeryeong had taught you had sorted their effect and were what led you to your current position in life.

“Miss _____, your presentation’s ready” your work assistant gave you a comforting pat in the back as she took a seat somewhere next to you. You were nervous, shitless. It was your fifth week at the job, and being the proactive woman you were, you had collected lots of data in order to come up with a resources management plan.

It was a Thursday afternoon, and more than a hundred people sat in front of you, waiting for your speech. Including him, who you’d once bumped into accidentally during one of your data recollections runs inside the building.

You hated having the need to impress others yet, hence your anxious behaviour. But this was a decisive moment in regards to your validation in your new job and how you’d continue to be perceived during your work stance (no reason to panic at all)… you needed to get it together.

“I think I just pissed off a bunch of old men right now,” you told your assistant right after you got off stage. “I need a bathroom break”. Linh gave you a reassuring smile, one she always had plastered on her face.

“Take as long as you need to. I’ll give you a call once the rest are done”.

The commute to the bathroom was unnecessarily complicated in your opinion. You had spent a little over a month rushing through the hallways of the building and you swore every single day your spatial orientation got a bit more fucked up. There was no way there wasn’t a single bathroom on the floor you were in, that would just be atrocious. “It’s not completed yet” someone said beside you as you stared at the half empty map the company had projected on a wall next to the elevators. “Where do you need to go?”

Kim Taehyung of all people in the world was talking to your ugly and unworthy ass. Your breath caught in your throat and after staring for at least five seconds your body finally reacted to your orders. “Oh, um… the bathroom. I’ve been looking for it for a good ten minutes” you explained with a nervous laugh.

“Trust me, I get it. I still get lost over here” he smiled gently. “It’s in the hallway in the middle of the next hallway”

You laughed at his very ambiguous explanation. “Thank you” you bowed your head and made your way to said destination.

It was in the hallway to your left, not your right, and it took you a while to figure out that new piece of information. Once you were staring at yourself in the mirror, you realized that you looked considerably tired and exhausted from all the social interaction you had undergone throughout the day. You were used to the side stares and whispering you’d get whenever you entered a room at that point, but some days you just wished you could get a break from them. After all, it wasn’t your fault you didn’t look Korean at all, and that you also didn’t fit the stereotype of a foreigner.

You got that from your mom, both the non Korean features and social fatigue. But that wasn’t even the problem most of the time, it was your friendly and smart nature which she had also passed onto you. Some would consider it a blessing, but to you it was a burden, like a clear glass that shielded you from introducing yourself into other people’s realities. You had few friends and people to trust, but in your everyday life you had to deal with the pressure of standing out too much and that came with a lot of negative energy from others. You sigh as you spray your favorite fragrance on yourself. You could be feeling like shit, but no one will ever catch you slipping.

But that excluded him apparently. You hadn’t noticed that on the other side of the hallway was the men’s bathroom and the realization hit you as you were calmly getting some tea from the vending machine. “Good afternoon” the man greeted you as he made his way out the hallway, but stopped in his tracks right after he noticed you. “_____! Hi” he smiled at you and you wanted to die, suddenly forgetting what you were ordering in the first place.

“H-hi Jungkook” You smiled back, poorly attempting to put your wallet back into your backpack.

“Need help there?” he noticed your agitated state and held your bag for you. He smelled just as heavenly as you had expected, somewhat between big dick energy and flowers. Oh, and he also remained as kind and polite as you remembered him.

Seeming as if he wasn’t planning on continuing his path to wherever he was heading to in the first place, he stood quietly by your side, waiting for you to be done with your deal. “How have you been?” you break the ice for him.

Quickly, you grab your tea and start walking back to the auditorium together, unaware of your surroundings or the suspicions that could arise. “Busy, but very good. How have you been? I saw your presentation earlier… I wish I understood half of what you said but you still sounded amazing”.

And you would never admit it out loud, but you were positive you were blushing (and falling in love too - platonically, of course). “Oh god, you think so? I basically told them they’ve been doing things wrong all along so maybe you’re the only one who’s appreciative of my work” you handed him the second can of iced tea you bought without him noticing. You swear his eyes lit up like stars in the night sky. “Payback for the other day” you smile at him.

The first time you two had crossed paths you didn’t look nearly as glamorous as you did now. In fact, you looked incredibly disturbed and in pain, carrying a huge pile of paperwork in your hands. But as soon as sweet Jungkook noticed your state, he offered you a hand and somehow ended up helping through your multiple data collecting trips that afternoon. It was a nice day.

“Anytime” he took the can in his hands with a shy look on his face. “Unless I’m practicing, you know…” you look down at his feet, with huge black boots engulfing them, and you smile due to their contrast with his personality. “Here, i’ll give you my number so you can call me whenever you need to put all those papers back. Hopefully I’ll be around” he added as he pulled his phone from his back pocket.

Way to get a girl’s number, my god.

291 notes · View notes

needleandhammer · 3 years

Text

From Simmer to Score

Pairing: Soft!Curtis Everett x Reader

Summary: Curtis is good with his hands. And other stuff.

Warnings: 18+ only, explicit, smut, oral sex, penetration, fingering, dub con breeding, unprotected sex, breeding kink sort of, size kink, petite!reader, Curtis' fingers

Word count: 4k

A/N: This doesn't really fit the prompt i chose from @stargazingfangirl18 's 5k Soft Dark Challenge: "You hire a local handyman to help you with a few home projects." But the prompt still inspired this. I wanted to take the prompt somewhere more explicitly dark but once again my contribution to this challenge turned marshmallow soft. This is an au, non-apocalypse au, normal life au, idk. Just self-indulgent. Also, it was a struggle finding a gif of clean Curtis. Because he's clean in this and not living on a train, i swear.

“Try again. Very good. Let’s have you run through the exercises and then we’ll take a look at the new homework."

At your smile, the little girl nods and quickly turns to concentrate on coordinating her footwork on the pedals of your old Altenberg while reading the notes in front of her.

You back away, heading to the kitchen for some iced tea. You nearly forget your other guest who sits at the table.

This is the third time he’s accompanied Wendy for her lessons. For a man of his size, Curtis makes no sound except the faint swish of pages turning in his book. Like before, he arrived with Wendy, nodded a greeting at you, waited for your invitation to the kitchen, and then spent the entire hour silently reading.

You pull the fridge door open and pour tea into three glasses. You quietly slide one towards him. Curtis’ eyes flicker up to you, brilliantly blue, and he gives you a low murmur.

“Thanks.”

You’re about to return to Wendy when you hear your name in Curtis’ smooth baritone.

He nods to the notepad left on the table. “I, uh, noticed your reminder to call for maintenance. Something wrong?”

“Oh.” You tidy up the table, sheepish at being caught procrastinating house chores. “Just needed a second look at the water heater. The repair company came by and we tested things out when they were done, but the next day I had no hot water.”

You grimace, thinking of taking another cold shower.

“If you’re okay with it, I can grab my tool bag from my car and take a look,” he says.

You’re not prepared for the offer. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

He shakes his head, no hesitance. “I don’t mind at all. As long as you don’t.”

“I mean. I-I would really appreciate the help.”

Your time with Wendy ends after you review practice goals with her until her next lesson.

Curtis joins you two. “Hot water is running again.”

Your jaw drops and you skip to the kitchen. Hot water pours out of your faucet. You return, unable to resist grinning widely at him.

“Thank you, Curtis. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Curtis taught my dad everything about fixing houses!” Wendy chirped. He offers her a crooked smile.

“Do you have everything?” you ask your young pupil.

While Wendy thanks you and you help her pack, Curtis watches on with a faint curve to his lips.

“Edgar’s changing over to late shifts for the next couple of months. I’ll probably be driving Wendy to lessons again.”

You nod. “Sounds good. See you both then.”

After they leave, you enjoy a glorious steamy shower and then you settle onto your couch with a plate of leftover grilled veggies and fish.

Reviewing your schedule, you consider taking on one or two more students. It was years ago that you gave private lessons to help pay for college. Nearly a decade of moving between a few jobs, you are now in a quiet suburb working with a team of digital designers. The job allows you to work from home half the week, a flexibility you take great appreciation in. The professional stability encouraged you to return to music and to helping others develop their musical interests.

Wendy is your only student at the moment as you want to ease into taking on this additional responsibility. You smile, recalling your initial meeting with Wendy and her father, Edgar. Her father’s bubbly energy is such a stark contrast to Curtis. Edgar opened up quickly, sharing that he and Wendy’s mother were no longer together, that he would support whatever Wendy wanted to do. There was a perpetually youthful vigor to the room when Edgar was present.

Wendy calls Curtis, Uncle, and his adoration for her is clear. He barely said two words when he was here the first time. It doesn’t bother you. You get the impression Curtis purposely tries to not draw attention to himself, and you can empathize with that preference for tranquility.

_ _ _ _

It’s a windy day, heavy with rain clouds, the next time Wendy and Curtis are over.

“I saw your screen door was down. Planning on replacing it?” Curtis asks when you wrap up with Wendy.

“Nah. I was just going to look up what I would need and try fixing it myself.”

“It’s kind of heavy.”

His tone doesn’t imply any skepticism aimed at you and you’re not offended. You’re used to people calling you ‘small,’ though you’re not small so much as you’re short. You like to think you take up ample space. You also admit strength is not something you have in abundance. Your whole life you relied on family and friends for a lot of literal heavy lifting. But Curtis already helped you out once.

“I could fix it up.”

“I won’t ask you to do that.”

“It’s no bother, really. I’m happy to help out.”

He promises to be quick about it. While he works, Wendy happily practices on your piano.

“I have Oreos,” you announce.

She pauses to grab a cookie. “Thank you so much for letting me practice longer.”

“Of course, dear.”

She chats a bit about her upcoming birthday plans, as children are wont to do.

Curtis pops his head in. “All set. Do you want to take a look?”

You follow him out back. Swinging the screen door on its hinges, you nodded appraisingly.

“I suppose it passes inspection.” You look up with a cheeky smile, pleased to see Curtis’ lips twitching. “Thank you. Really, Curtis. I do wish you’d let me pay you.”

He shakes his head. “It’s nothing. Besides, you’re great with Wendy. I’m grateful for that.”

You can tell he loves Wendy just as much as if he was her father. “In that case, I shall give Wendy her next lesson for free.”

He blinks at you, trailing behind as you make your way inside and calling out to Wendy.

Curtis has resigned himself to a quiet, bare life. He doesn't think he wants anything much. He has Edgar’s loyalty, a result of the brotherhood he formed in his impoverished teen years. They survived together, looked out for each other. Once Wendy came along like a little star burning in a smoggy midnight, Curtis counted himself lucky to witness the little girl growing up. A chance to help nourish one seed.

The first time he arrived with Wendy at your home, Curtis couldn’t help listening in on the entire lesson, making no progress in his book. Your clear voice, your generous encouragement. You, light on your feet moving so swiftly. You, barely reaching his shoulders yet mighty in spirit, curvy and sensuous. Curtis had an urge to lift you in his palms to be stored safely in his pocket.

_ _ _ _

And so things follow. Wendy diligently learning and Curtis primarily accompanying her, taking his place at your kitchen table. You come to enjoy his steady, grounding presence just a couple steps away from you and Wendy.

Now and then, he’ll notice some upkeep you’re doing – a leaky faucet, a box of new light bulbs on your counter – and volunteer his assistance. You are reluctant to put him to work, sure that he spends enough of his days working and doing chores in his own home and besides these are tasks you can handle even if you find them tedious. Curtis is always gentle in his offers, always obtains your permission first. As time goes by and you grow less shy about accepting his help and he grows more comfortable in your space, you realize working with his hands is second nature to Curtis.

It doesn't take long for Curtis to admit to himself he wants to be near you.

Curtis doesn’t meddle. He doesn’t mingle. He doesn’t have any interest in widening his social circle. He is aware you thrived on your own for a long time, just like him; and like he has Edgar and Wendy, you have a small close-knit group of friends. Lending a hand to you doesn’t count because you are like him.

Maybe this is why he lets his guard down under your roof. There is something kindred in your calm nature that his soul responds to. Under your roof, no silences need to be filled; no pretenses forced upon him. Your invitation to rest is unspoken – he hears it and almost weeps. The more time he spends with you, like two wavelengths in tune, the stronger his urge to insert himself. To fix, or in some way leave his mark on your home. Curtis doesn’t have any interest in widening his social circle. Lending a hand to you didn't count. Until he cannot help it. He doesn’t reach out for you, doesn’t try to prove you’ll curve perfectly within his arms; but he’ll ensure your softness can curl up in a sturdy home and delight in simple pleasures.

One evening, when Edgar works later than usual, you ask if Wendy and Curtis would join you for dinner.

“Nothing fancy. I have some noodle soup and salad. Curtis, can you call Edgar to meet us here?”

Wendy sets the table. Curtis assists with the food.

He’s quick to cup your hand in his when it's nicked with a knife. You can’t help leaning into him as he runs your finger under water, wraps it in clean paper towel. He finishes with the salad, making you sit at the table.

Edgar joins you all, tired but quickly gaining energy with food and a few sips of wine. You are full and warmed by their company. While Edgar cheers on Wendy while she practices from her book, you feel Curtis’ fingers curl over your hand. His thumb brushes over your cut. You share a smile with him.

_ _ _ _

You settle into your little Toyota only to find it won’t start. It stumps you because you never had issues with this car before. You have no experience with car maintenance and don’t know the first thing to check for an engine that won’t wake.

Calling Curtis to see if you can reschedule, he insists that he can swing by to pick you up.

He had called you, his voice almost shy. He wanted to surprise Wendy for her birthday with a piano and asked for your help.

You direct Curtis to the string instruments shop in the city’s downtown area. The two of you are greeted by a sales staff upon entry. When asked, Curtis looks to you, wordless, so you do your best to describe to the salesperson what you're looking for.

There are several options of acoustic and digital instruments. You give little demonstrations on a few pianos that you consider reasonably priced.

“Curtis, check this one out.” Your hold on his sleeve is loose and propels him towards one of the upright Baldwin pianos.

“I think any of these would suit Wendy. The sounds are clear, and they don’t take up too much space. The salesperson said this one is second-hand and it’s in really good shape.” You press a few chords, then look up at Curtis with a smile.

He looks at you, gaze gentle. “I’m not worried about price. I’ll take whatever you recommend.”

That was his general response when you asked his opinion during your time in the shop: he was up for anything you recommended. Other than that, he trailed behind you so that the salesperson assumed you were the primary purchaser. Much like in your house, Curtis seemed to try hard to not draw attention. Oddly, you didn’t think anyone in the same room with him could help noticing him. Even with the dark apparel he favored, Curtis’ reserved nature can't hide all the intensity and strength just thrumming beneath the surface of his tall imposing build.

You convince him to sit beside you on the bench. He’s never played before, but humors you and tries random combinations of thirds with you. You watch his hands – clean, wide, with thick fingers – hover and slide along the keys.

He nudges you.

“Sorry. I was just impressed your sausage fingers are quite nimble.”

A half-hearted glare. “Thank you. For coming with me.”

“If I say you’re welcome, will you take a look at my car when we get back?”

He stays for dinner.

It starts raining and you have to rush out to gather hanging linens. He helps and you both run back inside. You're giddy at his eagerness to assist, resulting in damp clothing on you both.

“Oh, let’s dump it here. I’ll fold it tomorrow.” You are happy to leave the laundry in a pile on an armchair, in too good of a mood to care.

You catch him with his attention on you, a look so soft you have to look away, walk blindly a few steps. His touch is on your arm, turning you around just as you reach the piano.

He dips his head low to press chapped lips to yours, capturing your lips more, closing in to envelope you in his heat.

Curtis’ hands grip your hips with a quick jostle against the piano, prompting a slur of bright notes ringing from the keyboard that you are pressed against. And then he’s hitching you further up and firmly in his arms. His tongue licks against yours. You slant your open mouth, inviting him to taste, to devour you from the inside out. Your legs wrap around his waist like you belong there, tethered to this point in time. There’s no past or future, only Curtis, only feeling safe and real in his arms now now now.

You barely register Curtis moving, tipping you onto the couch cushions to hover over you so close. You can’t remember burning for someone like this. You can’t remember much of anything, focused on Curtis, solid and unyielding between your thighs, muscles buzzing with raw strength.

You want so badly to know more of him. Your hands wander shamelessly under his shirt, sliding up his wide back, grazing under to squeeze appreciatively at his pecs only to be called south by a narrowing of hair that leads you on until you bump his belt buckle.

You’re distracted by the tease of hot kisses he drops along your neck. There’s something sweet, vulnerable in how you allow him access to the delicate skin there. It makes Curtis bury his nose against the crook of your jaw, a long moment for him to whisper something like a prayer, before his tongue swirls and he nibbles your ear lobe. Your high pitched gasp hastens his desire. Your shirt is gone. Your bra untangled from your arms. Your breasts, oh, Curtis takes a mouthful of one fleshy breast, sucking greedily when you moan, breathless and aching now.

You claw at his shirt until it too disappears. You wriggle to help Curtis pull your pants and underwear off. Your legs want to yank him back to you, but he braces himself to allow just a bit more space between you both than before.

“Let me.” It’s almost a growl, and you want to say yes, but you want to kiss him more. You’re clinging by his neck, drinking from his soft lips, until you both part to draw breath.

His hand caresses your cheek, sliding over to slip two fingers into your slack mouth. Your tongue swipes at them, lips close to suck them in, eager to touch and taste any part of him. Jaw tight, Curtis pulls his fingers away and down. Down. His hand spans large over your curves and you hold your breath, grit your teeth. One finger saturated with saliva, sinks into your cunt. You swear you can feel more arousal dripping from you to soak his hand and he adds another finger, drawing short whimpers from you as his fingers withdraw and plunge in. God, you won’t ever tease him about his fingers again because they’re perfect. Agonizing in their quest to undo you.

His voice is husky groans, wanting so bad to feel your oh so tight cunt around his cock. Soon.

He tortures you, adds a third finger. You’re riding them, whimpering as he pumps them in you and parts the digits to stretch you. His weight slides away and you can only grasp at his hair, you’re barely glimpsing his head between your legs before you arch high when his thick wet tongue swirls and licks your folds, dialing up the white hot blooming inside you. His fingers curl just enough inside to press that patch against your pelvis that strings you tight as a bow. Pressing insistently, scratching with finger pads, until you burst and all you can do is chase more of that pulsing pleasure, humping against his face. Your hips quiver while Curtis laps at your slit.

His sucks grow gentle, thumb teasing your bud, helping you come down from the intense high.

You sigh his name.

“I’m here.”

“I want you.”

His arms wind around you, holding you tight while he kisses you. You can’t remember feeling anything better than being cradled like this as Curtis languidly kisses you.

He’s not rushed to move from you, so you cling to him and he loves you for it. Yes, he’s hard, but he wants to savor this. Already high on the sensation of your soft flesh underneath him, your thick thighs tight at his waist, your quiet hums of pleasure the evidence of his thorough work.

He ran from his past, from early years strife with despair, washing away those memories like dust and grime. He thought his life of isolation was one that moved him forward; but he has been stuck all this time.

Seeing you care for Wendy, Curtis realized he wanted that. He wanted what his friend had. He wanted you, and the precious something conceived between two souls that sing for one another. Soon. He’ll make your sweet little body his to protect, to warm through the nights.

_ _ _ _

“Thanks so much for having us for dinner,” Edgar says. He was been watching Wendy run around your humble backyard, chasing butterflies and searching for little frogs. He turns to you with a toothy grin. “And for your help with the gift. Wendy’s going to flip. I’m lucky to have you and Curtis both around.”

Your smile is just as affectionate. “Happy to have you here. Although,” your smile turns sly, “I’m a little disappointed that your special lady friend didn’t join us.”

“Curtis,” Edgar mutters under his breath. Curtis is washing dishes at the sink and pays no mind to any half-hearted curses directed at him.

Your brow arches, urging Edgar to talk as he can't help an embarassed grin.

“Well, she was traveling for work, unfortunately. But I know Wendy doesn’t mind her.”

The girl has whispered to you that Edgar’s girlfriend is beautiful and she wished she would become her new mom; this you keep to yourself, not wishing to embarrass or pressure your friend further.

“I’m happy to hear that.”

Edgar’s eyes slide sideways, quiet for a moment before he jumps out of his seat and heads to the door leading to the backyard. “I’ll just…uh…” He exits, trailing off without finishing his sentence.

You sigh and take another bite of your cake, indulging in the moist chocolate flavor. Glancing up, you find Curtis watching you. His attention is singular, a warm simmer in those bright blue eyes, causing you to freeze except for your tongue that finishes sweeping over your upper lip. His gaze narrows, grew weighty, tracking your tongue as it retreats into your mouth. He pushes away from the counter, steps close until he is able to drop to his knee beside your chair. One strong yank has your seat turning so you face him.

The door creaks open again.

“Well, the sun’s getting low so I think we’ll head home and wind down.” Edgar announces with his daughter close at his side. He has a boyish grin on his face, pulling Wendy towards the front of your house. "Wendy, say good bye.”

“Isn’t Curtis leaving too?”

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll leave when he’s ready.”

“Have a good night, you two,” you say, walking with them to the front. Though Edgar is still cheerfully thanking you for the meal and insisting you stay inside and not see them off.

“You go on and just have a good time, both of you.” He sends a wink your way. You shake your head at him. “Curtis! You be a gentleman now.”

Quick as he can, he has Wendy secured in the car and they are on their way.

“Huh.” You lock the front door before turning to find Curtis. You can tell he wants to roll his eyes at Edgar’s antics. Instead, he closes in on you.

“Are you worried about me not being a gentleman?” he murmurs. His fingers hook under yours loosely.

You smirk. “I’m worried about you being too much of a gentleman.”

That smolder returns to his gaze. For a second, your body shivers, overwhelmed and you side step him, if only for a moment’s relief from the heat of his eyes.

You reach out. He takes your hand.

Once you’re down a layer, he grows even hotter seeing the mesh and lace number you have on. A tantalizing tease with the hard peaks of your nipples veiled in barely-there maroon. Just daring him to unwrap you. So he does.

His mouth leaves a wet trail seeking sensitive spots on your neck, you breasts, your thighs. Even as he moves, he still covers nearly all of your body, his heat and weight drowning you in want.

Your shudder has him grazing his beard up the inside of your thigh so that you arch and plea for his touch. God, all your uninhibited responses spur the blazing hunger in him. Curtis peels the mesh underwear down, impatient for a taste of you. His mouth waters, catching wafts of arousal and then he’s sucking and lapping your wet pussy. His rumbling groan is like a physical nudge that bows your back, and you remain rigid in the air at the sensation of his thick tongue pushing into you. Wide shoulders part your legs, shifting until your thighs rest on vast muscles.

You rock against him, keen at the hard sucks. Two fingers dip into, fucking you and rubbing with a dizzying rhythm that brings you over the edge.

With little effort, he holds up your hips and you feel a pillow slide under you to angle you higher. Then his muscled arms hook under your knees and he finally lines up and rocks forward. The tip of his cock parts your folds. Your breath hitches. His cock slides in, forcing your walls to stretch, to mold tightly to his girth.

“Curtis” – your hand was going point to the little bedside table with condoms.

Instead, you’re gripping a blanket. Gasping as he withdraws and your pussy tries to hold him in.

You mumble against his lips, incoherent. “The…inside..”

And then he feeds you his length again. And again, that delicious, addicting friction.

"Yes, inside," he agrees softly. "Like this."

With every pump, the spark catches and blazes higher. Curtis rises onto his knees, thrusts harder, watching your eyes flutter open and shut. He’s panting with the pretty picture of a needy you. He grips your thighs. As if his life depends on how tight he clutches you. Concentrating hard, his eyes drop low. Fuck. He can see your pussy clench, your puffy outer lips suckling his cock. Curtis swears your little body is refusing to give him up, and you’re wet but your cunt squeezes him so tight he has to drive harder into you to avoid slipping out.

You’re not even aware of your breathy moans, so turned on by his groans, the rough thrusts he gives you. There’s no grinding. Curtis can tell he’s rubbed against your g-spot and he keeps his snapping hips angled just right, one callused thumb circling your clit too lightly. And then your breaths stutter, your legs seize, your back arches. Curtis grits his teeth, keeping the exact same pace, draws out the storm of your pleasure. It’s so consuming, you lose your voice.

Just as you are able to breathe again, able to sense the physical realm around you, Curtis speeds up, bucking hard with low grunts, powering into you.

A high gasp – you feel him flood you. He drops to press his chest to you, still pumping his release into your clenching walls; and it’s too much, his cock merciless within your sensitive channel. He can’t help it, even as your legs start writhing with his unrelenting stimulation, even as he hears your hitched whimpers.

He finally stills. His lips find yours, tongue stroking deep.

Long moments later, his name is gentle, falling from your lips. “We didn’t use protection.”

Curtis nuzzles you, rubs his nose along the planes of your cheeks. Returns to suck your bottom lip. “It’s okay,” he whispers.

There’s a soft frown upon your brow that he kisses, and then scatters more kisses on your face.

“But, what if?”

“I want you. I want everything with you.”

You’re barely able to react as he nips hard at your collarbone and then rolls his hips. He’s half-hard inside you. You’re quickly losing yourself in Curtis, overwhelmed by the combination of his hungry mouth on your skin, unyielding clasp on your thigh. His thrusts persist, pins you in place, lights you up and scorches you. You’re right where he wants you, whining for more more more.

Now with each beat of his heart, Curtis has his mind’s eye on the prize. He’ll have you over and over. And you’ll grow a piece of him inside you. You are the way forward. You are his.

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

A/N: Hurrah, this one felt like it took forever. I blame Curtis. He didn't give himself up to me easily. Let me love you, ya broody boi! Thank you for reading!

#curtis everett #curtis everett x reader #smut #fanfic #siris5ksoftdarkchallenge

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inknopewetrust · 3 years

Text

Manipulate Me

Summary: As Peter travels Europe as a normal kid, the world’s peril throws a wrench in his plans. With you by his side chaperoning the trip as an undercover S.H.I.E.L.D agent, the mysterious introduction of Quentin Beck leaves you breathless.

Pairing: Quentin Beck/Mysterio x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: None!

A/N: Thanks so much for requesting this @mrs-blooooom ! I had a great time writing for Quentin Beck again. For context, reader is Peter’s older sister but also happens to be a shield agent (it was the easiest route of explanation as to why she would be meeting with Fury and Maria Hill). Requests are currently OPEN and you can check out who I write for in my request guidelines tagged in my bio. Thanks for reading! :) *gif not mine* I do not own any of the dialogue from the film.

“May-”

“-And don’t forget the passports! Oh! The passports!”

“May!”

May stopped scrambling around the apartment only to find that you had the two passports already in your hand. The tired aunt pushed her disheveled hair out of her face, pushing her glasses back up her nose, and slowly calming down. It was fine... Peter had you, Peter had all his friends, Peter would be fine in Europe.

“Everything is going to go fine. I’ll be with him at all times and if he decides to wander off and do his Spiderman stuff––well then I’ll just have to call in some Avengers to stop him.”

“I trust that you’ll be able to keep him out of trouble if it comes down to it.” May picked up Peter’s suitcase off the floor and listened to his heavy footsteps draw down the hallway and into the living room where you had gathered with her.

“All ready?” He asked with those inquisitively wide eyes that reminded you so much of your mom. May handed him the suitcase but not before capturing the boy in a tight hug. Her “motherly” instincts grew since she returned from the blip. It was strange without the two of them. You, stuck here in New York without a leader in either Fury or Tony and the remaining members of S.H.I.E.L.D, Avengers and then the developed Sword, were left to pick up the pieces and build a life without them. That was the most difficult part.

“Promise me that you won’t get into any trouble?” May asked Peter who in reply rolled his eyes with a chuckle.

“It’s just a school trip. Besides, Y/n is going to be there and I’m sure she’s told you a million times that she can keep me in check.” You smacked the side of his head but he just ignored you and turned to the door, opening it with a rough pull with his spider-y force.

“We’ll see you in a few weeks, May!”

If you were able to take back all the words you said and never go to Europe, you would ask Stephen Strange to reverse time.

Venice was a mess. The water-creature-man-thing...? had erupted the small city into a chaotic terror with locals and terrified students trying to find cover. Peter was somewhere flying with webs while another hero whom you had never seen before was assisting him. After a few minutes of trying to guide a group of students to safety, you secured cover underneath an awning in front of a store.

“Ms. Parker! What do we do!?” Flash was almost in tears from fear which you couldn’t help but judge. It was water? the kid survived Thanos’ snap so he could survive this. Not to mention Fury would have your ass if any of the kids died on your watch.

Out of nowhere the ground started to fill up with water and cracking of concrete or bricks began echoing throughout the small courtyard you trapped them all in. The green man came swooshing in with a cloud of smoke, almost like an illusion, and stopped the water with the sheer force of his magical abilities. The creature reformed into what looked like a water man and the green man dodged the attack with made the sound of bricks tumbling increase in intensity. Suddenly, the tower to your right began crumbling and you pulled as many students as you could closer to the building you sought shelter next to.

“Get back! Get back!”

“Who is that guy!?” Jason, one of the students shouted out but you couldn’t answer the question because you didn’t know.

“I don’t know, but he’s kicking that waters ass.” Brad voiced exactly what you would have said.

The green man continued to fight the water as the tower crumbled beside you all and then, like the blink of an eye, the monster was gone and the water scattered, soaking your shoes with a safety that was much welcomed. The man landed to sounds of cheering from the students and locals that found themselves in the same spot as you. But something was different.

Maybe it was the fact that you couldn’t see his face, or maybe the fact that you had never heard of this hero and you literally worked for the agency that worked with them all. Maybe he wasn’t from this world? Space? Another universe? You could have sworn that you heard of the idea of a multiverse.

But maybe it was the fact that beneath all that smoke and mirrors that made up the helmet of the mysterious man, it felt as though when he looked around at his admiring fans, his eyes trained on you, staring through your soul with some feeling that wasn’t welcomed or unwanted either. Intrigue, that’s what it was. And when he flew off, everyone was left with a curiosity that sparked a great debate throughout the entire world. Who was this man?

Well, the T.V. at the hotel identified him as Mysterio. Peter managed to make it back in one piece which you were able to celebrate in a brief moment outside before the voices of interested students and the television interrupted the moment. Betty and Ned were searching every website for some kind of clue but nothing other than what the news reported was to be taken as fact. It wasn’t aliens, it wasn’t witches, it was just another hero.

So that was what you went with. That was until you opened your door to Fury sitting in a chair next to the window.

“Oh my God!” You shrieked and Fury laughed, laughed, at you.

“You scare too easy.”

“What are you doing here? I thought you were in spa-”

The slight reveal of a green hand made you shut up. "Fury” tilted his head with a slight “Ah, well.”

“Is this about that Mysterio guy?”

“We’ve got him at a site. Says he’s from another Earth and that these creatures destroyed his own and intend to destroy this one too.”

“Another Earth? So, the multiverse.. it’s real?”

“Fury” didn’t respond to that, but he simply rose and gestured over his shoulder to the window.

“There is a car outside. Go and wait in it while I go get Peter. The big man told me I need to scare the kid.” You smiled at the thought as the man left to go retrieve your brother.

You had been part of the world of superheroes far longer than Peter had. You had been there when Loki first attacked New York way back when and that seemed like so many years ago. With the blip, it seems like an entire eternity. Nick never let you in on his secrets of his relationship with Carol Danvers, but you had met the Skrulls when you went on a mission three months ago to visit Monica Rambeau in space. Unlike her, you weren’t blessed with some badass powers, though she didn’t always have them.

Peter looked terrified walking out to the car and when he saw you inside, he breathed a sigh of relief that he wouldn’t be alone. The site of S.H.I.E.L.D in Italy wasn’t far from where you had all taken up residence for the last day or two, but it was secluded, down in the catacombs of old buildings that no one would suspect. It reminded Peter of a Mission Impossible movie that you had watched with him before the two of you left for Europe, he felt more like a spy than a superhero in that moment.

As you walked behind the two down the long corridors of the abandoned treasure that was used as a make-shift S.H.I.E.L.D, you were surprised to see Maria at a computer, though now knowing about Fury, you were sure it wasn’t even her. The center of the room was filled with scattered agents who you weren’t familiar with and then a projection in the middle of the room, along with the man without the helmet.

You weren’t one for fawning over men. Jesus, you worked with Thor sometimes and while you were aware of his Godly looks, you never gawked. But this man, he wasn’t a God, he was just naturally beautiful. Dark hair, blueish-gray eyes that surely did pierce your soul, and a stature of a man who knew how to carry himself with power in the world. It was like he walked out of your dreams and into reality.

“This is Mr. Beck.” Fury introduced you and Peter to the man. Mr. Beck approached Peter with a small smile and held out his hand. Peter looked nervous but responded with his own shake.

“Mysterio?”

“What?”

“It’s just what my friends were calling you.”

“Well, you can call me Quentin. You handled yourself well out there today. I saw what you did with the tower. We could use someone like you on my world.”

Peter looked puzzled but Quentin looked behind the boy to you. He held out his hand with another smile which you returned. Maybe there was a shock when you touched hands, but you were sure it was just your imagination.

“Y/n Parker, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“It’s good to meet you, Y/n.”

“Likewise.”

Did time rush by faster when you were in the presence of someone you were obviously attracted to? Yes, because before you knew it, the night was over, and Fury was leading you and Peter back out to the car. Peter was absolutely smitten with Quentin and could hardly break conversation. The man gave the attention to Peter like Tony did. It was like life imitating itself in another time. Quentin reminded you so much of Tony. Smooth with words, handsome, gifted in almost an unfair way, and he took an interest in the last piece of close family you had. You wanted nothing more than for Peter to have a figure in his life to give him a positive purpose. With Tony gone, he’s struggled trying to find his niche again.

“See you, kid.” Quentin looked disappointed but hopefully that his and Peter’s paths would cross again one day, even with Peter trying to avoid being identified by his class or the world. At some point, someone would figure it out if they hadn’t already.

“Yeah, see you.” Peter said as he walked out, following Dimitri, who Fury ordered to keep Peter in check with you. You were more than capable of doing it yourself but for some reason, Fury felt the need to send another agent.

“Good luck, Quentin.” You told him and he nodded his head, glancing at the holographic map of Venice next to him.

“I fear I’ll need it. But I’m hopeful that the good luck will be for more than just winning this fight.”

Swoon. That’s what you did for the remainder of the night and into the early morning. You couldn’t sleep a wink after the revelations that Quentin relayed to you and Peter about the elementals. That worried you too. How in the world was Peter supposed to sit by while other heroes with indisposed and couldn’t help? Sam and Bucky were on their own missions, Carole and Monica were off, Stephen and Wanda were no use and Thor was off on his own adventures with that team of riff-raffs from space–you know, the one with the talking tree.

But somewhere in all the jumble of thoughts, the scenery of the canal that had been a scene of something far different, calmed the noise. Enjoy the trip. This was the first time in years that you had traveled for something other than work and yet it was still filling every thought and moment. The thoughts were so loud and invasive that you didn’t register the person coming up to your right, ready to take the bag off your shoulders. You felt the tug and turned around, ready to punch the person but they dogged it, pulling it off your shoulder. It was a game of tug of war for the bag, but the person was strong.

“Let go! I said let go!” You pulled as hard as you could, therefore the bag came flying back to you and its contents spread across the sidewalk. The person glanced at the wallet on the ground and then back at you before you both dove to the ground. They grabbed it first and you tackled them to the ground. Wrestling with grunts and yells, you hadn’t noticed the audience of one that rushed to help. A blast of green light shot the person off of you and you clutched the wallet to your chest tightly, trying to reel in your ragged breath.

“I heard yelling from my hotel...” The hero started only to realize that it was you and with a turn of your head, you had realized it was him, Quentin.

“Oh! Are you alright?” He extended a hand, which you readily took to stand. He then helped collect the scattered items and put them back in the now ripped bag before handing it back to you.

“I’m fine. Thank you.”

“It’s no problem.” There was a brief, awkward lull but you weren’t sure what else to say.

“So, do you always wander around at night in a city you don’t know?” It was an icebreaker, a line that he knew would make you at least chuckle.

“No... I just had a lot on my mind. What you told us in there–it’s a lot of information to retain.”

“I’m sure an agent like you could handle it though.” You smiled bashfully at the compliment. Quentin gestured over his shoulder and shoved his hands in his pockets. You realized he wasn’t wearing his uniform anymore but just a pullover sweater and some dark jeans. How he shot the green light in the first place you didn’t know, but all heroes worked a little differently you suppose.

“Would you like to take a walk? I promise I won’t try to steal your wallet.”

“How do I know I can trust you?” The conversation was so light, and carefree that for the first time in a long time, you felt like a normal person. Quentin returned your cheeky smile and began walking.

“I’m pretty sure a woman like you could figure out who trust and who not avoid. Isn’t that what they train you for? Agents?”

“I suppose so, yes.”

“Can I ask you something?” You asked Quentin and he looked at you with a nod of his head.

“How did you know the elementals would turn up in our Earth?”

“Intelligence. My wife, she had worked for our version of your agency. Before they came to destroy our city, one had already manifested itself in Mexico. It was as if there would be a pattern to follow. So when she passed, I used her intelligence to figure out where they might be, which led me here.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you, it’s been some time now. She would be glad to see Peter helping me, and you helping out with the cause.”

“Peter really took a liking to you. I could see it in the way he could barely contain himself.” You laughed, changing the heavy subject to one more light.

“He’s a good kid. You’re related I assume?”

“My little brother.”

“You should be proud of him. He is doing a lot of good for the world. I just wish he was more confident in his abilities to realize identity protect isn’t everything.”

Quentin was right, it wasn’t everything. But it was more than identity for Peter. It was also no Tony to lead the way, his want to be a normal kid, his need to have friends and well, MJ to like him. But neither of you would know what it was like to be a teen hero, that was a lot of unneeded pressure.

“It seems that I brought you around full circle.” The sound of Quentin’s voice broke the silence and the realization that you were outside the barely standing hotel. You sighed and tugged the bag on your shoulder.

“Thanks for saving the day, Mysterio.”

“Anything to help protect Agent Parker.”

If you hadn’t just met him a few hours ago, you would have asked him to come upstairs but that was far too forward for the world you created for yourself, so you extended your hand as he had earlier.

“May our paths cross again.”

He grasped your hand tightly and agreed.

“Hopefully under better circumstances.”

You watched then as he walked away, unaware of the man underneath the facade of Mysterio. How he already knew who you were, knew all your secrets, and was ready to manipulate you to take down the institution that denied him success so many years ago.

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taexual · 3 years

Text

i’d love you to stay but that’s simply insane // JJK (22)

jungkook is an uncontrollable lead vocalist of the campus band, and you’re a goal-oriented top student that’s known his rich and complicated family since childhood. you don’t want anything to do with each other, until each other is exactly what you want to do.

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: college au

warnings: there is a timejump!!

words: 5.2k

chapter twenty-two (final)

You had just left your house, already running late, when your phone lit up with an incoming call from Inna. Smiling with a good-natured roll of your eyes, you answered the phone. You already knew what she was going to say.

“Are you there yet?” you spoke into the phone, pressing it against your head with your shoulder while you put gloves on. It was chilly today.

“I’m by the entrance to the restaurant,” Inna replied, her voice manic. “I’m still in my car. I can’t leave. You might have to come and drag me in there by my hair.”

“Breathe,” you said, picking up your phone with a gloved hand before you looked around the empty street so you could safely cross it. “You can do this. It’s just dinner.”

“It’s dinner with his parents,” she shot back, still just as panicked. “I know you’ve known Jungkook’s parents as long as you’ve known your own, but it’s different for me. These people don’t know me. What if they hate me?”

You heard a beep on the line that indicated a new text message and pulled your phone back to check. It was Jungkook, sending you an exceeding amount of question marks and exclamation points; he had clearly noticed your absence.

“Well,” you started to say to Inna while you quickly typed back, OMW, and sent it to Jungkook, “they will definitely hate you if you ditch the dinner.”

Inna whined at this. “I called you for help.”

“How can I help you,” you couldn’t help teasing, “if your situation is different?”

Recognizing her own condescending tone in your words, she sighed heavily but made no attempt to correct herself as she pleaded, “please.”

“Alright, listen, it’ll be fine,” you said and almost stopped walking, too focused on the conversation. It was too cold to stand around on this late autumn evening, however, so you kept going as you spoke, “it’s the first time you’re meeting them, so you will most likely only talk about superficial things, like your education, your job, how you two met, how—”

“Most likely?” Inna repeated, distressed. “And what if they tell me, straight to my face, that they can’t stand the sight of me?

You couldn’t help but smile as Inna’s worries echoed your own when you and Jungkook were just starting to talk again. She’d found ways to convince you to be bold and give him a chance, so you owed it to her to be as encouraging as you could – even if it meant abandoning all plans and going over there to literally drag her into the restaurant by her hair as she’d said.

“They will not,” you told her firmly.

“But how do you know?” Inna demanded right back.

“Because you’re impossible to hate.”

“But what if they do?”

“Then, they won’t say anything,” you replied patiently, “because that’s a very rude thing to say to someone you’re meeting for the first time.”

Inna still found a loophole. “What if they’re extremely honest?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you said. “It’s still rude.”

“But what if—”

“Inna—just listen,” you cut her off as you stopped by another crosswalk, waiting for the light to change, “the only honest conversation I’ve had with Jungkook’s mother,” you spoke, “was two years ago, after she came to see me on campus. Remember that? Before then, we were on friendly terms but we never talked about our feelings, or anything deep at all. She could have despised me deep down in her heart, I wouldn’t have known.”

Inna considered this for a second – while you crossed the street – and then you heard her sigh in defeat.

“Right,” she said, hesitating. She must have been running out of excuses. “Well, that—I’m not sure if that makes it better, actually.”

“Just go in there. Okay?” you said, your voice soft. You had experienced the fright that comes with being in a relationship firsthand, so you tried to find a balance between tough love and caring support as you told her, “open the door of your car, step outside, lock the damn car – so we wouldn’t have history repeat itself – and then walk into the restaurant. You can do that, can’t you?”

You couldn’t see, her but you could feel her roll her eyes when you brought up the “Someone Broke Into My Car, Please Help, There’s No Way I Could Have Left It Unlocked” incident that she refused to talk about again after the police officers laughed her out of the station.

“Sure,” Inna said, “I can do that. If I walk in and then immediately turn back around.”

“No,” you said. “You walk in, you go meet your boyfriend and his parents, and then you send me an invitation to your wedding as soon as the dinner ends.”

She laughed at this in what was supposed to be a sarcastic way, but, instead, she just sounded hopeful.

“You’re very funny,” she said.

“And you’re very late,” you tossed back as you checked your own watch and then sped up. “Go.”

“Okay,” she said with a deep exhale. You heard the door of her car open. “I’m going. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you replied, pleased to hear that she was really moving. “And if I find out you didn’t actually go in there, we will have a serious conversation the next time I see you. It might get physical.”

“I shall therefore avoid you,” she replied with grandiose dedication and then added playfully, “which shouldn’t be hard, considering that you’ve switched me for Jungkook.”

Gasping dramatically to emphasize your offense at this accusation, you defended, “hey, you were the one who moved out as soon as we graduated. I was going to suggest we continued to live together off-campus.”

“Your boyfriend would have hired a squad of assassins to kill me if I’d agreed,” Inna said, her voice light. Her car beeped twice in the background of the call, proving that she really locked it this time. “Moving in with you has been his dream come true.”

“Well, I’m running late to his show,” you said, already breathless as you were near-sprinting towards the venue that was still at least two minutes away, “so we’ll see if he still wants to live with me after tonight.”

“Oh! Sorry, you should have told me you were busy.”

“It’s fine,” you replied. “I’m never busy to scold you like you’ve scolded me every day for the four years that we lived together.”

Inna laughed. “It wasn’t every day.”

“It was,” you countered, feeling a smile spread on your face at the memory. “I sort of miss that sometimes.”

“Me too,” she admitted. “Lunch tomorrow?”

“Oh, you’re making an appointment to get your ass kicked?”

“There’ll be no need for that,” she promised. “I’ve already left my car.”

“Okay, that’s good,” you said. “I’ll see you tomorrow at one, then. Be brave, soldier.”

You chuckled at your own joke but Inna only hummed in appreciation.

“Thanks,” she said again. “Have fun tonight.”

“You, too,” you said, catching your breath as you slowed down after spotting the crowd of people, queuing by the entrance to the venue – the concert, clearly, hadn’t started yet. “Text me when you’re home.”

“I will if I’m not dead,” Inna replied.

Ignoring that, you reminded her one more time, “love you!”

“Love you, too,” she replied before hanging up just as she opened the door to the restaurant – and just as you reached the back entrance of the venue.

Namjoon was already waiting for you there. He greeted you with a quick hug and, even though he had a smile on his face, he still couldn’t help but chastise you.

“You’re late,” he said as the two of you entered the building, “he’s pretending to be fine with it but, really, he hasn’t let go of his phone for the past fifteen minutes.”

“It’s my bad,” you replied, “I should have left the house early but I had to make some last minute changes on my project. Are his parents here?”

“They’re here,” Namjoon replied and then back-tracked, “is everything okay with your project?”

“Yeah, it’s all done, I’ll present it tomorrow,” you replied. “Is the band ready?”

The two of you were on the move to see Parental Advisory, so you had no time to stop and properly discuss everything you wanted to ask each other, but that wasn’t new to either of you. Ever since Namjoon joined the team as Assistant Manager – per Jungkook’s request, much to everyone’s disbelief – you two had learned to talk about several different topics at the same time without getting confused.

“They’re ready,” Namjoon nodded, grabbing your arm when you took a turn towards the stairs leading up to the private viewing room upstairs, instead of walking down the hall towards the changing rooms, “they’re still backstage. He’s expecting you.”

“Oh, of course,” you nodded, allowing him to guide you down the hall; you could already hear the excited shrieks of the band members as they warmed up for the performance. “Are you sure I won’t interrupt—?”

“Namjoon!” a voice screeched, forcing you both to flinch in surprise. “Jesus, you’re still here?”

Both of you turned to see the frustrated publicist half-jogging to catch up with you. She gave you a nod of acknowledgement and turned back to Namjoon with a look that demanded an explanation.

“Yeah, Jungkook asked me to wait for—” he started to say but the publicist turned around, indicating for him to follow after.

“Don’t ever do anything Jungkook asks you to do, I thought you knew that,” she said, turning to look at him over her shoulder. “Come on, let’s move! The manager is not doing his job because one of the sound guys keeps flirting with him, and he’s distracted. I need you to be his right hand.”

Giving you an apologetic smile, Namjoon caught up with her and you could still hear him mumble, “that’s what I am anyway.”

“Alright, then I need you to be his right and left hand now,” she said curtly and then stopped, giving you one more look. “You’ll find the changing room okay, love? He’s been waiting for you.”

“Yeah, I’m going there now, thanks,” you replied, turning around towards the animalistic growls that would have sounded threatening if you hadn’t heard them so many times before.

You felt yourself smile as you knocked on the door gently and then turned the handle to enter. You’ve seen Parental Advisory in so many changing rooms over the past two years, there was virtually nothing they could do to surprise you, – which was why you merely sighed in content when you saw the boys jumping around the room and banging on their chests like gorillas infected with rabies.

Jungkook was the first one who turned around when he heard the door open and, not having expected you to finally be here – just like every previous time you were late to see him, he had assumed you were dead in a ditch – he did a double take before he finally leaped across the room towards you.

“Where were you?” he asked in a frenzy as he wrapped his arms around you as if the last time he’d seen you was months ago and not just this morning over breakfast, “I thought I asked Namjoon to walk you here.”

“Sorry, I’m here,” you replied, your chest cavity always turning into mush whenever he hugged you like that. “Namjoon did walk me, but your publicist—hey, you’re dressed already, aren’t you supposed to go up on stage?”

“We are. Soon,” he said and then, not intending to make you sound guilty, he added, “I was just waiting for you.”

Your eyes widening, you scolded, “Go! You’d perform just as well without me.”

Not letting you push him away from you, he kissed you instead – just quickly enough so the other members of the group wouldn’t notice, but long enough so you’d get to taste the familiar mint and strawberry on his lips.

“I know,” he said when he pulled away.

The confident grin on his lips surprised you even though it shouldn’t have.

“Oh, you do, then?” you asked.

“I do,” he replied, still smirking. “But I still need you with me all the time.”

“Hmm, right,” you spoke. “And having me around that often is not exhausting at all?”

“I wouldn’t know,” he said and, this time, he had every intention to make you feel guilty, “you keep leaving me by myself.”

Laughing because he was exaggerating and he knew it, you nodded your head in the direction of the other boys in the room – they were finished with their warm-up and were now busy making stupid expressions in the vanity mirror.

“You have your whole group with you,” you told Jungkook.

“They don’t count,” he replied dismissively.

Walking by at the right moment, Yoongi patted Jungkook’s shoulder, surprising him, “thanks a lot, friend. We’re going in five.”

He walked away before Jungkook could reply, throwing the younger boy a look over his shoulder to confirm that he’s not actually angry, but they really do need to head out now.

“Go,” you said, forcing Jungkook to return his attention to you. “Break a leg. Actually, break them both.”

He laughed, kissing you once more and not pulling away this time – not until he heard Taehyung groan dramatically as he walked past you two.

Awarding his bandmate with a roll of his eyes, Jungkook smiled at you. “I’ll see you after?”

“Of course,” you nodded.

“Promise?” he asked because this had become a ritual between you two.

“Promise,” you answered just like you’d done before every other Parental Advisory show for the past two years.

For the first time in their careers, Parental Advisory performed at one of the biggest venues in town – it took them years to get here but they always knew they would.

And yet, as they reached the middle of their set-list and paused for a ment, they still couldn’t take it all in – it felt surreal how the dozens of people who came to hear them perform had gradually turned into hundreds, making them legends on campus. And then hundreds turned into thousands, and made them into a viral sensation that virtually no one could resist singing along to.

You couldn’t help but give in to the intoxicating atmosphere as well.

The Parental Advisory performances – and the after-parties that followed; even if, nowadays, they were hosted at night clubs with the biggest capacity available in a particular town – were still an unforgettable experience, even more so when lighting and special effects were added into the mix.

Dancing along to the songs you’d heard a million times now, you cherished every second of this night as if you were never going to see it again.

But you knew you would.

The band had two more performances scheduled at this venue. And they had forty more left on the tour across the country.

Granted, they would have probably had far less if it weren’t for Namjoon.

Ever since you graduated and Jungkook managed to find a way to see eye-to-eye with Namjoon, he became one of the main reasons why Parental Advisory started to advance so quickly, releasing new songs that took the musical charts by storm and performing shows that prompted international magazines to question how it was possible for the band to fly under their radar for so long.

Namjoon never imagined himself working for a group he’d never particularly liked before, but this was precisely what he’d studied for: he knew the steps to success and he knew the people who’d help them climb those steps, too. And, as it turned out, he loved being a part of this ride as well.

The sudden mainstream popularity had come quickly but the members were ready for it.

Even Jungkook who found himself in a new sort of relationship with his father – one where they weren’t talking to each other unless it was absolutely necessary. This arrangement pleased them both but Jungkook knew it couldn’t be permanent. His father didn’t simply decide to quit talking to him; he just didn’t know how else to express his disappointment that his son had chosen his band instead of the family company.

Miraculously, Jungkook had found a way to make sure his father didn’t kick him out of the house he grew up in – the house he had just returned to – and that was when he announced that you and him were moving in together one Sunday night dinner.

His mother was overjoyed. His father – startled by the way she leaped from her seat in uncontrollable excitement – was forced to quit simmering in silent disappointment, and express his support as well. Even though it wasn’t what he was hoping for, Jungkook’s father got exactly what he wanted – his son had grown up.

As it turned out, when you agreed to help Jungkook get himself together, you weren’t doing it so he could take over the family company, but rather, so he would be able to show his father what he really wanted to achieve in life.

And he’d done that.

He’d done that so well, in fact, that both of his parents were now clapping along to the rhythm as they sat behind you, by the bar of the VIP booth. They both waved at you when you turned to look.

When you looked back at the stalls, you saw what you’d seen many times before – the people sang and danced along, their eyes burning with fires so big, it was like they were asleep before they came here, and this music was what made them finally wake up and realize that they were alive.

You would never grow tired of watching the venue come to life as soon as the band played the first few notes.

You would never grow tired of the way the members of Parental Advisory lost themselves in their audience, and the audience lost themselves in them.

And you would certainly never grow tired of that fact that every time, right before they started the encore, Jungkook would find you, wherever you were in the audience.

“I love you,” he would mouth soundlessly, and you’d hear him loud and clear, past the noisy ambiance of the venue, no matter how far away from him you were.

While the rest of the Parental Advisory members left to prepare for a long night of partying ahead, you and Jungkook left the venue on foot, purposefully choosing to take the long way home.

“Are you sure you didn’t want to go to the club?” you asked again as you walked through an empty park, holding hands and enjoying each other’s warmth on an otherwise cold night. “It’s the first performance out of three, the members will miss you.”

“They’ll be too drunk to notice I’m gone,” he replied, smirking as he added, “besides, tonight gives them an occasion to break out another bottle of absinthe and we both know how much you love that.”

Scrunching your nose, you reminded him, “I could have waited for you at home. Just because I can’t go to the party doesn’t mean you shouldn’t—”

“I need you with me at all times,” he replied, “remember?”

“I am with you at all times,” you said.

“Except when you’re off breaking records at work,” Jungkook teased.

You lowered your eyes and did not get to see the way his face beamed with pride. You’d become the youngest Team Manager the company’s ever had, and you’d done that on your own, choosing to find a workplace where you could try to build your career from the ground up, instead of getting an—unfair—advantage of working for Jungkook’s father.

Your promotion came several months ago now, but Jungkook was still proud.

“I’ve only broken one,” you replied humbly, “and it hardly counts. Soon enough, there will come someone who’ll become Team Manager at an even younger age than me.”

“Still,” Jungkook shrugged, gently rocking your intertwined hands back and forth as you walked down the deserted park. “I don’t get to see you as often as I’d like because you’re working all of the time. I’m not even sure if you eat at all when you’re away from home.”

“We always have dinner together,” you reminded him with a smile – because coming home to him has been the favorite part of your day – and then added as an afterthought, “hasn’t it been two years that we’ve been together?”

“You counted?” he asked, a teasing grin on his lips. “How sick of me are you?”

“A little,” you joked, and then had to run after him as Jungkook dramatically dropped your hand and broke into a run, putting more distance between you.

Catching up with him, you grabbed his arm with both of yours and forced him to slow down. “Hey, come on! You know I’m joking!”

Your voice was full of humor and so was his when he replied, “your jokes were always terrible.”

It was your turn to let go of him as you took a step back and demanded, “you take that back!”

Laughing, Jungkook walked towards you so he could envelope you in a hug, all while you watched him with mock-offence. He pulled away from the hug a second later to wipe the expression off your face by pressing his lips to yours.

“It has been two years,” he said then, keeping his arms comfortably wrapped around your waist, “and somehow I’m still not used to the fact that we can just… do whatever we want together. Stand here like this. Jump into that pile of old leaves if we feel like it.”

Laughing, you shook your head.

“Maybe let’s do the leaves some other time,” you said, leaning into him by resting your head against his shoulder. “Unless we’re much more used to each other in a few years and we don’t want to roll around in leaves anymore.”

“Hmm, I don’t think so,” he replied, closing his eyes for a moment when the smell of your hair reached his senses. He hadn’t gotten used to that, either. “I think this is something that I’ll always have a hard time believing to be real.”

You could feel the way your heart rate slowed down when you leaned against him. It suddenly seemed impossible that, just a few years ago, enjoying each other’s company in an empty park in the middle of the night, would have been merely a dream – something you woke up from when morning came.

“Maybe it’s because there are no people around,” you suggested, “and that’s why this feels surreal.”

“No, it’s like this all the time,” Jungkook disagreed, exhaling as he put one of his hands on the back of your head, holding you against him. “It makes sense, though, doesn’t it?”

Distracted by the feeling of him so close, you mumbled, “what does?”

“The disbelief,” he said. “I mean, two years ago, would you have thought we’d be here? Standing like this, under this leafless willow tree, probably looking sort of creepy to anyone who might walk by?”

Chuckling when he turned something that could have been romantic into a potential to get arrested, you shook your head against his shoulder. “No. I definitely didn’t. But I’m glad we are. Even if we look creepy.”

“Hmm,” caressing your hair, he hummed with a satisfied smile, “I’m glad, too.”

“Do you think we’ll still be here another two years later?” you asked. “Looking creepy to anyone who might walk by?”

It was Jungkook who couldn’t resist laughing this time as he replied, “I hope so.”

He wasn’t certain – he didn’t promise you that you would definitely still be here – and perhaps that made sense, too. He said he’d never lie to you and you couldn’t expect him to start now, not even if a promise of forever would have been the appropriate thing to give in a situation like this.

“I’d like that, though,” he added after a moment. “I’d like to think you’d have enough patience to deal with me for another two years.”

You were about to smile at the on-going joke about how you were “putting up” with him, but then stopped yourself because, truth be told, it wasn’t funny. Not in this context and, actually, not in any context at all.

“You’re not a nuisance to me,” you told him--as you have a dozen times before--but your voice was too quiet to make it sound as impactful as you’d hoped, so you added, louder, “I love you.”

“I know,” he replied and continued, in an almost defensive manner, “but, because we’d already been apart from each other before, it’s hard to just start believing that we have a happily ever after ahead of us. You know what I mean?”

You pulled your head away from his shoulder and looked at him. “That’s—”

“But,” he cut you off after catching the terror in your eyes, “at the same time, if we’d never separated before, it’s possible that we wouldn’t be here at all right now. So, maybe it was all meant to be.”

“Do you really believe that?” you asked, not concealing your skepticism and the fear that was still present in your chest after he’d revealed that he didn’t believe in your happy ending. “Do you think it was necessary for us to spend some time apart so we could find ourselves here?”

Jungkook shrugged. “I’d like to think that everything happens for a reason and that every action leads to something else. Sort of like a Butterfly Effect. So, maybe suffering for seven years was worth it because it prepared us for a lifetime of happiness ahead.”

He could see the way your face contorted painfully for just a second – you were always sensitive when it came to cliché lines – and it brought a smile to his face. He was happy, and even more so when he realized that, two years later, you had learned how to talk about your seven-year break without suffocating.

Two years later, it became one of the obstacles you had overcome. One of many, maybe, but if you’d survived that, there was little you couldn’t survive.

“I don’t think suffering of any kind should be worth it in the end. I think it’d be better if we didn’t suffer at all,” you argued but then settled, a moment later, “I do agree that unhappiness makes you appreciate happiness more, though.”

“See?” he grinned, choosing to consider this as a compromise. “Meant to be.”

“Well, since it sounds like the universe loves kicking us where it hurts the most,” you spoke, the smile on his face easing the anxiety that his previous uncertainty about your future had brought, “why don’t we go for those additional two years, too? Or more if we’re lucky. Even if we aren’t really meant to be. Especially if we aren’t. Just to spit the universe in the face.”

Laughing, Jungkook hugged you tighter until you were pressed against him and could no longer see his face.

“We are lucky,” he said, cherishing every moment with you because he never knew how many more of them he’d get, and that was okay, because he stood here, holding you tightly in his arms, and nothing else existed to him but this moment. He finished, “but only because we decide to be.”

“Yeah?” you played along, hugging him back with an equal amount of love and force. You’d unintentionally started a war of Who Could Squeeze The Other One Tighter. He was winning as you asked breathlessly, “so, there’s no such thing as destiny, then?”

“No, there is,” he replied, letting go of you when he realized that his grip on you might have really done some serious damage to your lungs. You were smiling when you pulled away from the hug, however. He added, “I’m the one who gets to decide what my destiny is, though.”

“And what’s that?” you asked.

“Yo—”

“If you say ‘you’,” you gave him a warning look, “I will smack you.”

He laughed, puffing his chest in preparation for a punch that he knew might come; you weren’t really kidding about these things.

“That’s mean,” he said then, and, as a ploy to extract pity – but also because it was the truth – he added, “I love you.”

Naturally, you replied, “I love you more.”

Naturally, he protested, “no, you don’t.”

It annoyed you that he always did this but, at the same time, it was such a familiar trait of this, that right here, right now, you couldn’t help but feel the warmth in your chest spread to your face as you smiled, despite yourself.

“I do,” you argued, still grinning.

“You don’t,” Jungkook insisted.

“I do.”

“You d—”

Knowing what was coming – and how long it’d be before you’d reach the end of this argument – you leaned in and pressed your lips to his, promptly shutting him up.

When you heard him inhale in surprise, his lips moving against yours to respond to the kiss, you pulled away.

Breathless, even though his lungs were full of oxygen, Jungkook nodded, impressed.

“Nice,” he commented.

“Yeah?” you snickered. “Maybe I’ll use that to win all arguments against you.”

“Cool,” he agreed. “Maybe I’ll use that to start more arguments with you.”

Thrilled to feel that excited jump of your heart each time you naturally slipped back into flirting – even two years after you started to date – you bit back, “more than you do now? Impossible.”

Raising his eyebrows, he returned to his College Frat Boy roots as he inquired, “is that a challenge?”

Laughing, you pulled away from him far enough so he couldn’t reach you, only to end up right by his side again when he took both of your hands into his, not letting you stray too far from him.

“Is everything a challenge with you?” you countered, the feeling of his warm hands against your cold ones comforting.

“It is,” he said, serious. “And I’m winning.”

“How so?” you asked.

“I have you.”

You looked ready to punch him again so Jungkook took both of your wrists into one of his hands and covered his face with his free hand, blocking his view of your defeated expression as you groaned and rolled your eyes.

“I wasn’t a challenge,” you replied, choosing to avoid violence when you knew he was strong – and dedicated – enough to lift you up and throw you over his shoulder if he felt like it.

“You were,” he disagreed, dropping his hand to his side. “Admit it, you thought you’d be insane to let me back into your life.”

“I still think so sometimes.”

You were joking and he couldn’t lose the cheerful tone of his voice, either, as he asked, “do you regret it?”

“Abandoning my sanity to be with you?” you clarified.

Snorting, Jungkook nodded.

“No,” you answered without a second thought. “Even though I probably should.”

Laughing – because he didn’t think he was ever happier than he was in that moment; although, to be fair, he felt so about every moment with you – Jungkook hugged you tighter, spinning you around in a half-circle so unexpectedly, you squealed at the feeling of your feet leaving the ground for a full second.

“I love you,” he said once he put you down and pressed his forehead against yours. “My destiny isn’t just a few more years with you. It’s a few more decades. And now that I’ve said it out loud, it has to come true.”

Closing your eyes, you tried to catch your breath and felt yourself smile even though your stomach contracted unpleasantly when Jungkook purposefully chose to voice his thoughts in the cheesiest way he could manage.

“I love you more,” you told him and then, realizing your recklessness, rushed to add, “and don’t you dare—”

“No, you don’t.”

He was provoking you and you knew it but, honest to all that was holy, you didn’t mind it one bit.

Pressing a kiss to his lips to distract him and change the topic, you felt Jungkook hold onto you tighter as he smiled into the kiss, thus confirming that this was precisely what he was hoping would happen.

“I’ll take it I win, then,” he said after you pulled away to take a breath and felt the cold breeze on your face.

“Let’s talk about that home,” you replied. “I’m cold.”

“Yeah?” he let go of you so he could zip your jacket up to the very top and then unfold your collar so it would cover up more of your neck. Then, once he was content with the amount of warmth your jacket could provide, he took your hand again. “Let’s go home.”

fin.

masterlist

#bts reactions #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts college au #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #fanfiction #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook fanfic #college au #jungkook college au #jeon jungkook fanfiction #jeon jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #fluff #bts fluff

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itstheimpossibledream · 3 years

Text

Only A Play -Part 1

Word count:1297

Pairing:AU Henry & FemBlack! Reader

Warning: Angsty Drabble.smut to come (series ?)

Summary: AU Henry is rehearsing for a Broadway show but, but isn’t living up to expectations. It will be a smut series so just hold on. Request and advice always accepted. I literally haven’t thought of a name for the series yet so any suggestions are appreciated !😊

" I've never wanted anything this much before." you said looking down at your hand, feeling the pads of his fingers lightly draw your chin up until your eyes met his gaze.

" Then come with me." he bellows, blue eyes forcing their way into your memory forever.

"HOLD!" you hear from the back of the room as the lights draw up. Henry takes a step back from you,dropping his acting face and allowing a shy smile to seep across his features.The director made his way to the front of the rehearsal room, sighed to himself and dismissed everyone. " Great work today guys, thank you for your patience. Really need you to nail those beats down Henry. Important stuff.... Important stuff." You could tell he was not pleased with this particular piece, having worked with him before you noticed a stark contrast from the man who was the life of the party when you had been an assisting lead in his breakthrough play just a year prior. It would be too much to say you had started a friendship but, a work-related understanding was absolutely within reason.Steve was a solid director, who tried to be as fun as he was professional. You quickly gathered your things, and headed to the door of the studio, to find some solace in the nasty habit of smoking, you knew you should quit. But it was just one of those things that you had started in college and the stress relief of anything else legal had never been quite the same. You exhaled in annoyance, annoyance with your performance, your day, the fact that it could be so blisteringly cold in New York on a February morning. But, enjoying the feeling of laying your head against the brick wall, it was sunday morning that was the quietest it got in manhattan. You find a twinge inside yourself finally able to muster up the courage to walk home but you turn your head when you hear your name.

"Yeah- Hi, look I'm sorry for all of this my agent thought I would be a good fit for the play and I fell in love with the piece but, I really just can't seem to get anything right for him huh?" Henry awkwardly half smiled at you shifting his weight from one foot to another, digging a hole with the toe of his shoe into the snow. He had an effortless way of looking like he just left the gym.He must go regularly, you couldn’t put a finger on why that annoyed you but it did, it made you even more frustrated that this nervous,quirky hot guy routine was working.

"Well-" you began quickly inhaling a breath of cold air "you could start by being off-book. And not movie off book, like actually off book. He knows you don't know the show." you say moving your eyes up from his shoes to read his expression. You took a long drag of your cigarette,he didn't move. He seemed somehow stuck by your words.It seemed,moving the snow with his foot was becoming more of a tick.Maybe the insecurity was more genuine than you were giving it credit for.

"You know, it must be so comfy knowing you can always secure a job because of your face." You said almost laughing and tilting your head in his direction.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he snorted, he was really working on that snow cavern now.

"That means we all know you booked this job, because for some reason horny housewives can't seem to stay away from you. You have to admit your name on a marquee is guaranteed ticket sales and the producers value that over actual art anyday." you say smugly.

"Is that what you really think of me?" he asked.

"That's what I know. " you responded not missing a beat or avoiding his eye contact for a second. " Do you know the actor you beat out for this role? He's a Tony award winner, a purely brilliant performer and on top of that he's gorgeous but you beat him out. Because he's black and in America a mediocre white guy wins everytime." you stepped closer into him and continued , wondering if you were digging into him too hard.But, finally being able to say the truth you had been feeling for so long was too cathartic. "See, what I think of you doesn't matter, because I'm going to be professional, and I'm going to do my job. And I'm going to fuck you onstage infront of thousands of people everynight and none will be the wiser but, I want you to know. I want you to know that your position has not been earned and everyone knows it." you say really laying into him " So, the least you could do is act as though you cared about the project and learn your lines. Some people don't have their own homes and multi-million dollar bank accounts to go home to, for some of us this is our lives." You finish stomping out your cigarette and turn on your heels to walk away.

"I'm not as bad as you think" he says, you spin back on your heels to face him.

" You are though.” you shrug “ See I do my research, I know about your weird,sordid history with the me too movement, with having to apologize to co-stars during a sex scene. Dude-you dated a college student and then broke up with her in front of the whole world! And if you really cared about this project you would have more of an understanding of the societial implications of being in an interracial relationship to begin with. The fact the the dramaturg sent us endless links and information and you obviously had the time to read none of it doesn't bode well for you as far as not being an ass hole."

"So you think I'm an ass hole?" he whispers, raising his eyebrows.

"I don't know what to think of you. I don't know what I should think of a man who admits in interviews that the best part of being an actor is the money. I mean god- do you even like it?" you scoff, knowing your face must be burning with rage at this point.

"Truthfully, no." he shrugs, the city falls exceedingly quiet as you meet his eyes and realize it must be the most honest thing he has said in a long while. Your eyes trailed back down to the hole at his feet, you chuckled to yourself. Of Course he didn't care about acting.

" I used to though-" he says,his deep baritone breaking the silence "Before I got the big jobs,that's when it was real for me. I think - I don't know the - the money and the fame, and the parties" he laughed to himself " It started becoming about more than just the art. Started becoming about being popular, being liked, gaining fans all the shit that makes you an ass hole I guess. " a smirk begins to play at the corner of his lips.

You pull your jacket sleeves further down over your hands,and see him adjust his hat to protect from the breeze. It was raw, it was honest, it was exactly what Stephen had been trying to pull out of him the entire time.

"Bring Kal." you said switching your weight to your back foot "Steve likes dogs." you shrug, stepping on your cigarette butt again before turning on your heels to leave.

You see him break into a large smile. It hadn't exactly been an ideal first two months, but with a dog in the mix at least rehearsals may be more fun.

#smut #henry cavill reader #henrycavill rp #henry cavill au #henry cavill fic #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill smut #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill one shot #henry cavill superman #geralt of rivia imagine #daddy cavill #the cavillry #geralt smut #henry cavill fandom #Henry cavill black!reader #black reader #onlyaplay

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arambleaway · 3 years

Text

Okay, so like Ace Attorney recently ate my brain. And I have never played any of the games. This is the true potential of the internet at work people. Anyway.

I keep thinking about my very specific images of Phoenix Wright, Miles Edgeworth, and the relationship therein. This is gonna be a long one because I can't be assed to make it more coherent than the mess it is in my brain.

So. Phoenix is obviously from a very loving and supportive family except they absolutely loathe the law and law professionals. Phoenix is trans and his family is super supportive, allowing him to express himself even from a young age. Unfortunately, Phoenix's new teacher isn't so great. Is actually a bit of a piece of shit and has been isolating Phoenix and so the poor boy has spent the first couple months of being out being harassed by his teacher and classmates. And that is part of why the trial sticks with Phoenix so much. Because Miles stands up to not only the students, but the teacher and all of the vitriol they've been leaking as well. And he doesn't just drop Phoenix after. He still wants him around and as a little kid that shit sticks with Phoenix far longer than it does with Larry and Edgeworth. Also, unfortunately, if you've got one asshole teacher, you've likely got a few nearby, so Phoenix's family does their best to support him and they offer to transfer him and do what they can, but Phoenix as a child is afraid to move and never see Edgeworth or Larry again so he doesn't. And then when he starts writing letters, he finds he can't stop because they become confessionals of a sort and a place where he doesn't have to be on guard and can know that the person he is writing to is accepting of his identity even if he does wonder from time to time if maybe Edgeworth no longer accepts him.

Anyway, then canon, yada yada. Lets talk about Miles now. Miles is depressed, okay. And he writes that note (you know the one) completely literally. But here's the thing: Miles knows the trauma of finding dead bodies. Has probably seen the mess they leave, and doesn't want to cause more harm than he already has. So he writes the note and packs the pills/blade/etc into a suitcase and takes a flight to Europe where no one that knows him will have a chance to stumble upon him. The turnabout is this: on the plane over he gets into an argument with his seat buddy. Its no one important, but the key info on him is that he is in therapy and sort of off hand brings it up and Miles, who was not raised with a pleasant idea of therapists and such starts an unholy row with him, blatantly projecting his own insecurities and perceived weaknesses on this poor man. The flight attendants have to separate the two and the man spends the rest of the time in first class. Miles spends the rest of the flight getting dirty looks from everyone else. By the flight's end he is frothing at the mouth and the man's assertion that therapy is not something for the faint of heart has been burrowing under his skin. He gets off the plane and rather than immediately commit he thinks he might as well make the source clear and winds up at the empty von Karma estate. He spends the night with a blade on his wrist and voices in his ears. But he doesn't move.

He falls asleep and he wakes from a nightmare he can't recall and it is noon the next day. He doesn't eat, he doesn't move. He just lays there and thinks. He thinks about Phoenix, Franziska, His Father, von Karma, all the lives he's sent to prison after measuring them against a false scale, and he thinks of the man on the plane. He thinks of the things he said, the ring he noticed on his finger, and the husband that was brought up at some point in their altercation. He thinks a lot about what it means to be and Edgeworth and what it means to be a von Karma. He picks up the blade and he puts it in his suitcase. He starts to research Therapists. Because he is going to have the best therapist in the business if he is going to do this. (He just kinda goes for the one with the most academic accolades that is willing to do home visits or move of some shit, anyway) Miles Edgeworth starts therapy and it goes horribly. Miles hates it viscerally and he doesn't feel like his therapist understands. (Which they don't. They keep trying to convince Edgeworth to see and actual trauma specialist and find someone that he clicks with rather than coming back to them). His therapist is worth their name though, and Miles is actually hospitalized due to being a danger to himself. For all that he loathes this, it does eventually allow him to meet with an actual trauma specializing therapist and finally maybe understand what the big deal is. He still hates it, but he finds the therapist that actually suits him and things get a little better.

The first thing is he stops living in the von Karma estate. He admits its a bad place for him to be at the moment and so he moves closer to his therapist and gets a rental flat. Second he gets a new wardrobe. He's been using his stuff left at the von Karma home and all of it is his flashy very "von Karma" wear. So he goes and gets new suits tailored in his preferred style and he pays for them and wears them because he realizes he likes them and not because he is trying to emulate his Mentor. This step is especially a big deal because it is the first moment where he is able to really define who "Miles Edgeworth" is outside of the confines of the courtroom. In all this, of course, he is also figuring out who he is within the courtroom as well. After committing to his therapist and recovery, he goes back into Law in Germany and really tries to define why he still wants to be there. I like to think he spends some time in small courts as a defense attorney assistant while trying to redefine his place. Anyway, eventually Miles decides he wants to remove his old stuff from the von Karma estate. He might move in his new stuff but for now it is merely removing the old, giving him the space and option of a new start. In clearing his stuff he winds up in the storage space on the household and there he finds an old suitcase.

The suitcase is Miles's from when he first came to the household. Von Karma had told the staff to pitch it when they first arrived and apparently whoever was on duty that day was kind enough to save it for later. Miles has a bit of a breakdown on seeing it and has a rather sharp set back in his improvement. He finds himself staring at the knife again. Because he never put it away. He still doesn't. But he doesn't touch it, just looks. Miles fights his way back out of the hole and in doing so removes all of his things from the estate except that little suitcase. Its the last thing and he opens it to slowly deal with the contents. Most of it is children's clothes, some expired toiletries, but buried in the deepest part of the case, wrapped lovingly in an old bowtie is his Father's defense attorney badge. Miles doesn't have a breakdown this time (yay!) but he does spend the next week unable to sleep for the sheer intensity of his nightmares. He carries on though. He slowly and surely patches together who exactly Miles Edgeworth is and what he wants to stand for. And that little gold badge stays folded in the bow tie and tucked in the deepest corner of his latest suitcase. He throws out the knife.

Once again back to canon, he returns doesn't tell anyone shit, and slowly relearns Phoenix Wright and what that man means to him. Hazakura temple, all the gay vibes, until the disbarment era. Lets stop by Phoenix again, shall we?

Phoenix is disbarred and for the first so many years he is genuinely friends with Kristoph Gavin. None of this "oh i always suspected shit", he believes in Kristoph, because that's who Phoenix is. At this point Edgeworth is still in Europe and a large part of that is so that he can continue with his therapy. But he does drop everything to talk to Phoenix once he hears the news. He immediately knows that something is up because Phoenix would never and he believes in him more than anyone else and he is offering to do everything in his power to make this better because Phoenix is worth it and Miles love-- woah. that's a new emotion. what the fuck is up with that. So anyway Miles realizes that he has some less than platonic feelings and he wants to run back to Europe and his therapist and figure out what it all means, but above all Wright is his Friend dammit and he owes him so much. But on Phoenix's side, he sees how far Edgeworth is offering to go and he turns down all of the things that would cause Miles's life to be disrupted. He does accept the knowledge and shoulder to lean on that Edgeworth offers, but Edgeworth doesn't need to move continents or anything. Besides he has Kristoph here to help. And Miles kind of hates all of this situation, but he knows that he truly doesn't have the kind of knowledge and pull to really be of service not to mention his new discovery is not doing his health any favors. So he goes back to Germany and Phoenix stays with Kristoph.

Now Miles is in Germany figuring out how to manage complex emotions and romantic relationships, while Phoenix is working with Kristoph, who becomes Kris, who could maybe be more except Phoenix isn't sure it would be fair to him since he has become more than a little hung up on Edgeworth since he came back from Europe. And because when Edgeworth asks him to Europe he jumps with no forethought. He gets Kris to watch Trucy and jets off to spend time with Miles. They do their amazing duo routine and Edgeworth comes away from the encounter knowing that yes, he very much would like a romantic relationship with Phoenix. Okay. Now how to go about it. Meanwhile Phoenix gets back and sees Trucy and this is when he realizes that Kristoph is dirty. Trucy tells him about something she saw while she stayed with him and something clicks and Phoenix has a mild breakdown because of how much danger he just realizes she might be in. He calls Miles at some point during this and Miles talks him down. He falls asleep and in the morning he doesn't shave. He smiles and gets Trucy to school, then sits in the office and tries to figure out where he goes from here. That afternoon there is knock at the door.

Miles Edgeworth does nothing half way and has flown to Phoenix just to be able to help him figure out the next steps and comfort him. Phoenix is officially gone for this man. The two talk and scheme and eventually hatch their mad plan to rebuild the entire fucking system. Miles will use his distance to research and provide information, Phoenix will keep an eye on Kristoph and start building what he can here. In all of this Trucy's safety comes up. Phoenix actually considers sending her with Miles. Miles puts that idea to a stop real quick, though he does mention doing more visits and such. Trucy is very happy to hear about this and demands to go every time. Phoenix says something along the lines of it being more expensive for two people to fly and joking that it would be cheaper if they just let him keep her in his suitcase. This is how Miles Edgeworth returns to Germany with a solid plan for the future and one Magician more than planned. Trucy obviously sneaks into his luggage and somehow makes it with him to Germany. In doing so she finds the badge in his bag, and despite the intense scolding she gets, the two are finally able to really connect and bond as Miles opens up to her a bit about his Father and what he has gone through.

Eventually Trucy gets back where she belongs and despite a few more hijinks over the years things progress via canon. Edgeworth and Phoenix have both accepted their feelings but have yet to act on them as neither is in a position to properly be with the other as they wish. So they flirt and argue and love each other intensely as only the best of friends and trauma buddies can. It all pays off and Kristoph is arrested. Phoenix is innocent, but he is unsure about going back into law. In this case, Kris was kinda the last proof of where blind belief will get you and it isn't just a façade, Phoenix is a lot bitter at the larger world and himself. So he isn't in the greatest place mentally, and Edgeworth sees it. And for the first time he thinks about reaching out to someone. Especially because this is Phoenix not just a random stranger on a plane. Then he finds he has the option to take the Chief Prosecutor position, and he finds himself staring at his Father's badge. He thinks on the years and his growth, and he talks with his therapist. And he decides to move. He takes the new position and seeing Phoenix struggle so close he finally shares about therapy. Not all of it. Nothing really just that he goes and has since the year-they-do-not-speak-of and that he is looking for a new one in the city and maybe Phoenix would like to help him. Because he values Phoenix and his opinions. Phoenix does eventually wind up in a therapists office and it is a mess, but it helps.

The two reconnect more strongly than ever and shortly thereafter Phoenix agrees to take the Bar again. Miles supports him in this and watches as he struggles and groans but makes it through. And at the same time he watches him heal a bit from the atrocities of the past 7 years. When Phoenix passes he is over-joyed and that night finds him holding his Father's badge and slowly thinking. Turning the idea over and over he can't bring himself to ignore it. He walks up to Phoenix in the office the next day and with all the drama of a marriage proposal give Phoenix his Father's badge. Apollo starts to realize exactly what sort of shit he signed up for. Especially when Miles turns up a couple weeks later and attempts to strangle Phoenix with his own tie and demands having the badge back because What The Fuck. An Orca. You Absolute Dumbass.

This is the point where my ideas dry up. Because where I leave them is pining idiots that are actually doing pretty ok. I figure they eventually get their shit together, but only after inflicting immense suffering on their co-workers and the legal system as a whole with their obvious pining and flirting. I barely know Apollo but watching him suffer is just more amusing than it should be. Also Miles is Autistic and it actually is part of what allows him to bond with Trucy.

#ace attorney #narumitsu #wrightworth #holy hell #what the actual fuck.#this was just like #bouncing in my brain for a few weeks and wouldn't leave #why is it so much #maybe #i feel like i blacked out #seriously #what the fuck #miles edgeworth #phoenix wright

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wingsofkpop · 3 years

Text

Hiraeth - I.VIII: These Paths We Walk

pairing(s): Hybrid!Im Jaebeom x Reader, Witch!Mark Tuan x Reader, Werewolf!Jackson Wang x Reader, Vampire!Park Jinyoung x Reader, Supernatural!Got7 x Reader

genre: Supernatural!AU, Dark Magic!AU, heavy Angst, light Fluff, eventual Smut

warnings: Mature language, mentions of death and murder, violence, gore and blood, some satanic themes, etc.

word count: 7,1k

synopsis: How far are you willing to go to find out the truth about Moon Dye Bay?…

chapter directory

Necromancy is a form of spiritual divination in which the executioner acts in the summoning of and communication with the lost souls of the dead. Its origins date back to the ancient Greeks, as the word necromancy is composed of Greek terms νεκρός (nekrós), "dead," and μαντεία (manteía), "divination." During the European Middle Ages, necromancy grew to be associated with black magic by traditional witches. As a result, its practice became strictly forbidden due to its disruption in the balance of nature. History recalls only one powerful witch ever held the ability to raise the dead at will—

“Still doing research for that special project?” Your mind snaps back to reality at the sudden inquiry. Tearing your gaze from the textbook, you look up to find none other than your favorite student in front of your desk. Hyunjin offers his usual crooked smile at your newfound attention and raises a questioning eyebrow.

You can’t help but roll your eyes before answering, “You know the point of a study period is to—I don’t know—study? Preferably by yourself?”

He snickers. “I have a question that requires your extensive mastery in the literary arts, Ms. (L/N).”

“I’m sure you do.” You release a heavy sigh, not bothering to voice your annoyance at the use of your surname. Instead, you deliver Hyunjin a shake of your head before gesturing his continuance with a wave of your hand.

“I’m a little confused by the ending of The Grapes of Wrath,” Hyunjin pauses, “okay—a lot confused. I mean, why would Rose of Sharon breastfeed a stranger she literally just met? It’s weird…”

You chuckle at his scrunched expression. “You’re right. It is pretty weird.”

“So why’d she do it?”

“Well, Rose of Sharon knew the stranger was starving to death,” You begin, leaning back in your chair to better hold Hyunjin’s gaze, “so you could say she wanted to give him a second chance.”

“But why? She doesn’t even know him.”

“Maybe not, but if you had the ability to save another person’s life—be it a stranger—wouldn’t you?”

“But even after all her and her family went through, I don’t understand how she was able to find it in herself to do that. Especially after the loss of her baby.”

“Humanity is a complicated, yet beautiful force, Hyunjin.” You hum gently, “Even among all the cruelty, hatred and hopelessness, it still manages to find a way to prevail—that ending is proof that against all odds, humanity will always win.”

“I never thought about it like that…” Hyunjin shakes his head in disbelief, “Thanks, (Y/N)...”

“It’s what I do, kiddo.”

While the student grows silent to scribble down his realizations, you take the time to skim over your own notes—or lack-there-of, that is.

After Youngjae agreed, albeit rather reluctantly, to assist you in your mission to return Jackson Wang to the land of the living, you spent the past few days cornering the bookstore and mausoleum’s supply of resources about raising the dead. But just your luck, every text thus far has proven to be less than helpful. According to the siphoner, necromancy is one of the more rare magical arts that is only practiced by specialized, powerful witches, which, unfortunately, also means there is limited access to such information. Neither you nor Youngjae have been able to find a spell or ritual that can guarantee Jackson’s resurrection without some kind of dire consequence.

Who knew magic could be so complicated?

“You know, you’ve been out for the past week…” You lift your head to meet Hyunjin’s gaze once again. “Is… Is everything okay? I don’t mean to pry, but it’s just so unlike you to miss any classes…”

The typical university student probably wouldn’t give a damn about a missing professor, much less an absent TA. Hyunjin’s visual apparent concern spreads warmth throughout your chest—you are powerless to hold back the small smile that stretches across your lips.

“A couple of my roommate’s friends disappeared out of the blue last week, so I just needed a few days to help her out.” You raise a playful eyebrow, “Don’t tell me you missed me?”

“What? No way.” Hyunjin scoffs, “Though I did have to use Sparknotes for the past few reading assignments and barely passed Wednesday's quiz—” You burst into laughter, reeling your companion into the same fit only seconds later. After a brief moment, Hyunjin manages to collect his composure and finish, “—I am glad everything is okay… and that you’re back.”

You nod with a smile. “I appreciate that.”

Aside from the daily meetings with Youngjae and nightly cry-piles with Sana, the past few days have proven to be quite uneventful. Jackson has not appeared in your bedroom since that first night, and true to your word, you haven’t told Mark about your quest for his revival. God knows what kind of Hell would break loose if that were to happen. You also haven’t visited the Prime residence since the day you caught Jaebeom with his drop dead—mind the pun—gorgeous vampire conquest. You’ve been meaning to call Jinyoung, but between your hours pilfering through useless research texts, comforting your distraught roommate and attempting to track down your M.I.A. best friend, you haven’t quite found the time.

And though you’d never admit it to anyone, you needed some time alone—to think.

A rather obnoxious bout of laughter tears you from your thoughts, which is quickly followed by a scold from Professor Park. In an attempt to find the source, you peer past Hyunjin’s form and the sea of other students to the very back of the classroom where a group of young girls are utilizing the period as social hour. Amongst the familiar faces sits a pretty female student you don’t quite recognize, having never encountered her around campus before.

And although you can barely see her, something about her demeanor seems… off.

“Hyunjin? Who’s that girl back there?”

Hyunjin turns to examine the subject of interest before returning with a shrug, “According to my sister, she’s some exchange student from Taiwan. I haven’t met her, but I think Yeji said her name is Tzuyu.”

“And she transferred here this week?”

He shakes his head. “Actually, today is the first day anyone has seen her.”

You go to inquire further, but the booming call of Professor Park announcing the end of class beats you to it. Hyunjin bids you one final thank you and a goodbye before sprinting off to meet his friends at the classroom exit. It is not until him, Professor Park and the remainder of the students are long out the door do you return to your research. However, the moment you manage to relocate your place, a sugary-sweet voice commands your attention once again:

“If I could bother you for a moment, Ms. (L/N), I need your help…”

“Of course.” You mask your annoyance with as genuine a smile as you can muster and turn your gaze to the student. “What can I do for…” Your smile immediately falters at the sight of the young woman from earlier in front of your desk—only in this instance, you can definitely recognize her…

It’s none other than Miss Aphrodisiac herself from the Project Estate.

She offers a radiant smile, but the feature seems less than friendly.

“Hello again, (Y/N). I don’t believe we properly met during our last meeting… I’m Tzuyu.”

“Yeah, um, I-I wasn’t expecting to see you in my class…” You chuckle nervously, cautiously sliding your notes inside your book before closing the cover. “What… What are you doing here exactly?”

“With how much the student body rants and raves about their newest teaching assistant, how could I pass up the opportunity to see you in action?” Tzuyu elegantly takes a seat on the edge of your desk before running her fingers through her flawless, auburn locks. Something about the dexterity of her fingers sends goosebumps budding across your skin. “Plus, it’s not everyday I meet one of Jaebeom’s… human companions.”

“It’s not like that.” You insist, “Jaebeom and I barely know each other—”

“Ah. Right.” She giggles, “You’re close with the other brother. My mistake.”

You bite your tongue, holding back the snide comment that would likely lead to the dismembering of your head from your body. Instead, you swallow what little remains of your pride, rise from your seat and ask stiffly, “You said you needed help with something?...”

“You’ve read Macbeth, haven’t you?” Filled with both anxiety and confusion, you watch as Tzuyu takes a pencil from the container of writing tools perched on the surface of your desk. She twirls the utensil between delicate fingertips, gazing at it as if it is the most interesting object on the planet. You don’t need your gut to remind you something is most definitely off with her behavior.

“There’s this one piece of advice that Lady Macbeth tells her husband before he goes off to commit murder: ‘Your hand, your tongue: look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under ‘t’... ” She pauses, “Tell me, Ms. (L/N)... What exactly could that mean?”

Your blood runs cold when she fixes her dark gaze on you. No longer interested in the pencil.

You bite the inside of your cheek, attempting to ground the frantic beating of your heart before it literally leaps from your chest and into the palms of your company. Out of instinct, you chance a quick glance at the door—you may not have a mug, but a nine-hundred page, hardcover book to the face might make a pretty good distraction.

“Hm, I suppose you’re more of an expert with prose.” Tzuyu says, lowering the pencil into her lap before hopping to her own feet. “Let’s try a bit of Frankenstein then…”

She begins to stalk toward you, her eyes still locked onto yours like a vice. Your body immediately shuffles backward, attempting to keep as much distance between yours forms as possible. You only get so far—your back meeting the surface of the wall behind you as Tzuyu centers herself a few mere inches away. You can feel her crisp breath on your face as she murmurs:

“‘I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine and rage the likes of which you would not believe. If I cannot satisfy the one, then I will indulge the other’...”

“What are you—”

Before you can finish your thought, a searing pain paints your vision white. The agony spreads through your veins like wildfire, stealing every ounce of oxygen from your lungs and rendering your knees weak. With a trembling hand, you’re able to save your form from buckling completely to the floor—but not before catching a glimpse of the same pencil impaled in the side of your waist.

“Poetry is much more tasteful, in my opinion.” Tzuyu sighs, licking the blood from her nails as she backs away. You want to say something—scream and call her a plethora of less than appropriate names—but your mind is literal mush between the shock and the excruciating pain. You collapse to the floor with a breathy gasp, cupping your bleeding side with your opposite hand.

The vampire saunters toward the exit. Just as she makes it to the doorway, she whirls around to throw one final innocent smile in your direction: “Do us both a favor and stay away from Jaebeom… I wouldn’t want to scar that pretty face.”

With that, she’s completely gone. If it weren’t for the pencil in your midriff and the blood seeping through your clothes, you would have thought you’d dreamt up the entire encounter.

“Shit…” You gasp, attempting to dislodge the wood from your flesh. It doesn’t budge, deeply embedded between what you assume to be your ribcage. A pained wheeze spills from your throat as you reach for your bag, paying little mind to the bloodied prints your fingers leave in the fabric. After numerous attempts and anguished movements, you manage to fish your cell phone from its pocket. Crimson smears across the screen as you pull up the first contact you can think of.

You really should have taken the rest of the week off.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

From his perch behind a tree, Jinyoung silently stalks the movement of a burly stag as it parades across the forest floor. The creature, unknowing of the predator that hunts from a far, approaches a wild berry bush and begins to feast off its bearings—unknowing that its end is fast approaching.

Jinyoung usually does not like to draw out these moments and would have killed the deer by now. Whether it is due to the absence of his physical strength or the tornado of thoughts tearing through his mind, he simply cannot bring himself to end the animal’s life just yet. There’s something so pure about watching the stag go about its existence, he realizes—he must allow its innocence to prevail a little while longer.

It’s been days since his recovery from the huntress’s attack, but he can still sense the weakness lingering in his bones. While Jaebeom’s blood chased away the fever of the wolf venom, it was not enough to regenerate his body to its full power. If he were to do so, he would need human blood… but that can never happen again. Not in this lifetime.

Animal blood keeps him mobile, and that is more than enough.

A loud snap of breaking branches returns Jinyoung to reality in time to watch the stag tear off into the trees. He makes no move to chase after it, not desiring to waste his strength. After one final glance to his escaped meal, Jinyoung turns and greets the approaching figure with a tight frown:

“I already told you, hyung. I have no interest in accompanying you on a hunt into town.”

“You know, it would be a hell of a lot easier than tracking down food out here…” Jaebeom snickers, “Not to mention, one human equals a dozen squirrels.”

“And as I said, I much prefer the squirrels.” Jinyoung meets Jaebeom’s gaze with a heavy sigh, “I am perfectly fine, hyung.”

“You’re a shitty liar.” Jaebeom shakes his head. “You need human blood.”

“What I need is to find a new fare.” Jinyoung pushes off of his perch to traipse deeper into the forest, but the appearance of a hand on his shoulders halts his pace. He allows Jaebeom to maneuver his form back against the trunk of a tree, welcoming the slight relief the support brings to his muscles. He makes sure to keep his expression blank to mask his instability. But like always, Jaebeom sees straight through him.

“You’re weak, Jinyoung…”

“Nothing a nice rabbit can’t fix.”

Jaebeom purses his lips. “You can’t deny it forever. At least try a blood bag—”

“Why did you give me your blood?” Jinyoung interrupts his companion’s lecture, peering at Jaebeom with unwavering, unblinking eyes. “I thought you wished to punish me?”

“I was going to—I mean, I wanted to…” Jinyoung watches Jaebeom very carefully, noting the frivolous nature of his typically cocky features and hidden message behind his gaze. If he knew any better, Jinyoung would actually believe there to be some shred of humanity left behind those dark irises.

“But you couldn’t.” He finishes.

“Don’t think it means you’re off the hook for working with Tuan.” Jaebeom huffs while taking a few paces backward. Jinyoung opens his mouth to respond, but the hybrid’s hushed murmur emerges instead, “(Y/N) came by last week… to see you.”

Jinyoung holds back a smile. “Did she now?... I suppose you told her about your change of heart then.”

Jaebeom remains silent.

“Jaebeom-hyung…” Jinyoung’s eyes flutter shut as an audible exhale blows past his lips, “You need to tell her.”

“It won’t change anything.” Jaebeom says with a frown, “She made it very clear that she already hates me.”

“(Y/N) is much different than others, hyung—”

“What do I care anyway?” The hybrid tsks, his sullen expression transitioning into one of indifference. “She can hate me as much as she wants. I don’t give a shit.”

“Hyung, please—”

The shrill ring of a cell phone introduces a bout of silence. Jinyoung has never been so annoyed by modern technology since now, grabbing his phone with a less than pleased sigh. He eyes Jaebeom while lifting the device to his ear, wordlessly communicating that the conversation is far from over.

“Hello?”

“Jinyoung?... H-Hey, it’s me.”

“(Y/N)?” Jinyoung’s annoyance completely dissipates at the sound of your quivering voice. He notices how Jaebeom also reacts to your audible presence through the stiffening of his broad shoulders. He shakes it off as unease from your previous encounter and focuses back onto you, “Are… you alright? You seem a bit stressed.”

“Yeah, you can c-call it that…” Your inhale picks up over the line, and Jinyoung cannot help but grow concerned by its unusual heaviness. “You are not going to believe the shitty day I’ve had.”

“What happened?”

“Well, the barista at my campus cafe accidentally made my usual decaf, my boss is seeking revenge for my time off through hundreds of ungraded essays… and I was stabbed… with a pencil.”

Jinyoung’s eyebrows furrow. “I apologize, but I don’t think I understand…”

“Long story short, Jaebeom’s scary, yet incredibly sexy girlfriend paid me a visit and literally stabbed me with a fucking pencil—” Your explanation cuts out into a yelp, which is followed by an array of stuttered curses, “And it—shit—hurts like hell.”

“I’m on my way right now” Jinyoung, heart racing and head spinning, forces himself to his feet and hurries back toward the manor—Jaebeom hightailing close behind, having picked up the entire conversation.

Before Jinyoung can inquire more about your condition, Jaebeom snatches the phone from his grasp and lifts it to his own, “Where did she stab you?”

“Jaebeom?... My-My side… The pencil is wedged between my ribs, I can’t get it out…”

“Don’t worry about removing it. Just try to control the bleeding as best you can.” Jaebeom explains, “Jinyoung and I will be there soon.”

“Wait! Why are you—” Your voice cuts out as Jaebeom ends the call. Jinyoung notices the whiteness of the hybrid’s knuckles as he silently returns his phone. If it were any other situation, Jinyoung would have brought up their chat from earlier, but your wellbeing is on the line. He delivers his companion a dark glare. To his surprise though, Jaebeom’s expression mirrors that of pure, unadulterated anger.

Jinyoung pinches the bridge of his nose before releasing a sigh, “Do I even wish to know why your mistress attacked (Y/N)?”

“I’d like to know too,” Jaebeom scoffs, running a hand through his jet black locks, “considering I told her that (Y/N) was off limits.”

“You find out then.” Jinyoung hisses, “Or I will deal with her myself, and I won’t be as kind.”

“Oh, trust me.” Jinyoung can practically sense the murderous lust spilling from Jaebeom’s pitch black irises—far from the light of humanity. “Kindness is the last thing on my list right now, Jinyoungie.”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“—and then she just acts all innocent! As if she did absolutely nothing wrong! I mean, what kind of self-serving, sadistic bitch does she think she is—Mark? Are you there?”

“Huh?” Mark flutters his eyes open at the sound of his name. He blinks at his surroundings in confusion, still dazed from his abrupt wake-up call, before remembering his phone and the person currently speaking on the line:

“Mark? Don’t tell me I put you to sleep?”

“Nope, nope. I’m here.” Mark replies hurriedly, wiping the remnants of his nap from his eyes. “Luna’s a complete and total bitch, I got you.”

Lia sighs, “Yuna, Mark. Not Luna.”

With a silent yawn, he lifts his arms over his head and expels the kinks from his shoulders. Once his muscles are taunt and stretched, Mark releases a heavy exhale and murmurs, “I’m sorry, Lia. It’s just… been a long week.”

“I get it, Mark.” She hums softly, “But I wish you wouldn’t stress so much about this. Minho made his choice, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“I don’t believe that.” Mark rises from his chair before pacing across the room to the mausoleum’s lone window. He pulls the curtain aside, peering out at the vacant hills of the graveyard. “If he would just talk to me, then I’m sure we could figure something out.”

Hundreds of phone calls later, and he still hasn’t spoken with Minho since the night he claimed to be leaving the coven. No one has. Not even Jisung. And Mark can’t figure out what’s bothering him more: the fact that Minho won’t pick up his phone, or that you have been purposely avoiding him for the last week.

He’s trying to give both you and the young witch time—truly—but Mark can’t help but feel as if something is off.

“Minho needs to figure out what he wants himself.” He forces himself away from the window, receding across the room to lean against the lectern as Lia goes on, “You can’t be there to hold his hand every time he goes through one of his moods. It’s not good for him or for you.”

“What am I supposed to do then?”

“Nothing, Mark. You do nothing.”

Mark shakes his head, “You know I can’t do that.”

“Just give Minho some more time to get it together.” Lia says, “He’ll come around eventually.”

“I hope so.” Mark goes to grab his coffee mug from a nearby table, but accidentally knocks his elbow against the corner of the lectern. A mass of papers and books slide from its surface, crashing to the floor in a rather vocal descent. He releases a quiet curse, tucking his phone against his shoulder before lowering to the floor to begin tidying the mess.

…How long does he have to wait until you come around?

Lia continues to speak as he gathers the escaped pages, “Have you talked to Yugyeom lately? I heard that one of their wolves just up and disappeared.”

“Yeah. That kid, Changbin.” He says, “Gyeom thinks he probably took off after our fight with the huntress. Remind you of someone?”

“In this town? A lot of someones.”

Mark goes to respond, but the title of a particular document clears the thoughts from his mind. Pushing aside a couple other pages, he grabs the flimsy packet before raising it into better view. At first, Mark is confused, unsure why this type of reference would be out and about. But as he surveys the other fallen objects, his confusion gradually shifts to realization…

Then rage.

He doesn’t bother to look up as the door opens, nor does he spare the puzzled newcomer a glance. Still clutching the document, Mark rises to his feet and takes the phone from his shoulder with his free hand. He pays his companion no mind as he quietly murmurs:

“Do you mind if I call you later?”

“Not at all. Just try to think about what I said.”

Mark bids a final farewell to Lia before disconnecting the line. He takes a moment to drag a hand down his face before turning to a wide-eyed Youngjae. As soon as Mark raises the document into view, his expression immediately shifts to a panic.

“So…” Mark tilts his head with a tight frown, “You want to explain why the hell you’re looking up resurrection spells?...”

Youngjae shakes his head, “Hyung—”

“Explanation, Youngjae.” Mark watches the siphoner’s face shift through a rainbow of emotions. From terror, to anxiety, to dread, before finally settling on guilt. Keeping his gaze to the floor, Youngjae eventually delivers a shrug and whispers:

“...To try to bring Jackson back.”

Mark’s heart practically splits open.

He stares at the younger witch with incredulous eyes. “Are you fucking stupid, Youngjae!?”

“It looks bad, I know—” Youngjae hurries forward to stand in front of Mark and lifts his hand in good faith, “—but I’ve been doing a lot of research and experimenting with a couple spells and I really think that we can—”

“You aren’t thinking shit.” Mark spits, rounding toward the siphoner until their noses are a mere inch apart. “We don’t screw around with necromancy, Youngjae… It’s dark magic.”

“We just have to find the right spell! (Y/N) and I are searching—”

“(Y/N)? What does (Y/N) have to do with this?”

Youngjae immediately closes his mouth, his eyes growing glassy in the evening light.

It takes a second for the puzzle pieces to fit together—your inquiries about Jackson, Youngjae’s daily trips to the bookstore, your evasion—but once the realization hits, Mark feels his entire body go numb.

Youngjae rushes forward to grab Mark’s arm, “Hyung, I’m so, so sorry! (Y/N) thought it would be better not to tell you, so I just—”

Mark shrugs his hand away, refusing to meet Youngjae’s pleading gaze. “Get out.”

“Just let me explain—”

“Get the fuck out!” A loud crash echoes throughout the mausoleum as Mark flings his mug across the room, causing the object to meet the opposite wall before shattering to a million tiny pieces. Youngjae doesn’t persist, grabbing his bag and beelining straight out the door. Mark pushes the sounds of the younger’s sobs from his mind as he goes, unable to see past the anger boiling inside his body. But even against all the rage, a sense of sadness remains at the forefront of his mind.

His best friend betrayed him—again.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“You find and take care of (Y/N).” Jaebeom commands, slamming his car door shut with a little more force than necessary. Then again, he can’t seem to bring himself to care above the red-hot fury coursing through his veins like venom. He ignores the curious stares of a nearby group of female students and proceeds to move around the car, “I’ll catch up with you later.”

“And where exactly are you going?” Jaebeom bites back a glare as Jinyoung halts his movements. His entire body thrums, as if physically yearning for vengeance, but he masks his temper with a sharp inhale and a promise to release his frustrations out later.

He nods at his companion, “I’m going to do what I should have done before.”

Jinyoung merely stares at him for a moment, and Jaebeom can only hope he can’t see past the bloodlust in his gaze. Fortunately, Jinyoung doesn’t question him further. He releases Jaebeom’s shoulder and delivers one final nod before turning in the direction of what both can only assume is your classroom. Jaebeom allows himself a moment to watch Jinyoung—his noble brother—sprint off to save the day—to save you. Again.

Jaebeom swallows the bitterness accumulating in his chest and heads in his own direction. It won’t be hard to track her. He can already smell her Chanel perfume—she’s close by, he realizes.

She wants him to find her.

Sure enough, Jaebeom recognizes her silken auburn hair and Louis Vuitton coat beside a towering oak tree, staring down at her phone. He doesn’t bother to check if those students are still watching him and speeds over to his target’s perch. Even when he’s a mere few inches away, she continues to mindlessly scroll through her phone. Jaebeom’s anger grows when he notices the amused smirk etched across her pink lips.

“It’s about time you showed up.” Tzuyu says, “You know how much I hate to wait.”

“Give me one good reason not to rip your fucking head off right now.”

“Not even a ‘hello’?”

Jaebeom growls, “You think this is a game?”

“Perhaps.” She raises her calm gaze to his own before offering a sultry smile. “Beautiful evening, isn’t it?”

Her flirtations only add fuel to the outrage raging through his body. He speeds forward again, snatches her wrists and slams her smaller figure against the trunk of the tree behind them. Tzuyu winces at his aggressive movements, but Jaebeom feels no sympathy. Your trembling voice and pained breathing echoes in his ears like a siren, tempting him closer to the point of no return.

It would be so easy to plunge his hand into her chest, to squeeze her heart until it's nothing but bloody ash. Or maybe he should tear her limbs off one by one, make her suffer until she’s begging him to end her—

“You really do care about her, don’t you?” Jaebeom awakens from his imaginary rampage at the question. Her usual smirk is no longer along her face, but instead replaced with a thoughtful frown.

He growls, pressing her wrists further into the bark of the tree. “I told you to stay away from her. You said you wouldn’t touch her.”

“I never thought I’d see the day the big, bad hybrid, Im Jaebeom falls for a human.”

“Shut the fuck up.” His tone is quiet—murderous. “I’ll kill you.”

“No. You won’t.”

“Yes. I will.”

“No, Jaebeom.” She shakes her head with a sigh, “If you kill me, (Y/N) will never forgive you.”

As if she had taken a red hot iron and plunged it through his heart, Jaebeom lets go of the vampire and stumbles backward. He barely catches himself before he collapses to the ground, and even then, his legs feel like they’ll give out at any moment.

Tzuyu, still leaning against the tree, tilts her head with a hum, “She’s a good one, Beom. I feel it… that aura that carries around her.”

“Stop it—”

“And it’s because she’s good that she’ll never belong to you.” She murmurs, “But you already know that… don’t you?”

“You’re fucking sick.” Jaebeom hisses.

To his surprise, Tzuyu’s expression softens. “I’m sorry, Jaebeom.”

There’s too many emotions swirling through his mind. He can’t think—can’t breathe. His chest feels like it’s caving in on itself, and his hands won’t stop shaking. He can’t get your face out of his head—your beautiful eyes looking at him with such betrayal and hatred. It hurts. It hurts so much. Why won’t his hands stop fucking shaking? It’s too much. It’s all too much—

He can’t help it… He has to turn it off.

A switch flips inside of his soul, immediately locking out every ounce of pain. His lungs inhale each new breath smoothly, and his limbs remain as still as a cat. With a clear head, Jaebeom returns his eyes to Tzuyu, who is still gazing at him with such tenderness and understanding. For a moment, the warmth of her gaze reminds him of you.

Tzuyu cautiously takes a step forward, “Jaebeom…?”

“You’re right.” He nods, “I’m not gonna kill you.”

“What are you—ah!” Her inquiry elevates into a scream as Jaebeom whirls forward and sinks his teeth into her shoulder. His fangs plunge through the fabric of her expensive coat before piercing deep into her flesh. She attempts to struggle, but he is stronger… and the damage has already been done.

He pulls away, licking the blood from his lips as Tzuyu collapses to the ground. She clutches her wounded shoulder, staring up at him with eyes of betrayal, confusion and fright.

“You… You bit me.”

Jaebeom smirks, “I suggest you spend the next day or so wisely… it’s going to be your last.”

Tzuyu’s expression turns rabid. She scrambles to her feet before sneering at the hybrid, “The sooner you learn to accept your fate, Jaebeom, the sooner you’ll find peace—”

“Meh. Fate’s overrated.”

“Just remember this—” The vampire growls, “—after you turned me, you murdered the love of my life… at least I had the kindness to keep yours alive.”

He snickers, turning to leave. However, just before he takes a step, Jaebeom throws one final comment over his shoulder, “Thanks for all the sex.”

With that, Jaebeom smirks to himself and saunters off into the glow of the setting sun.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Jinyoung rushes down the hallway, careful not to speed for fear of running into a professor or student working after hours. The fragrance of your blood builds with each step, and he can’t help but grow more concerned with that knowledge. At the very least, he can still hear the faint beating of your heart.

He follows the scent past a couple corners and down another long corridor to a massive, dim lecture room. Fearing the worst, Jinyoung quickly steps through the doorway before immediately spotting your incapacitated form through the darkness propped up against the opposite wall. He doesn’t hesitate to speed across the room and kneel in front of you. You’re unconscious, he realizes, but breathing—that’s enough to lift the heavy weight from his chest.

“(Y/N)?” He calls gently, lifting his hands to cradle your face in his palms. “Come back to me, my dear… Please.”

“Jinyoung?...” He’s never been more grateful to hear the sound of his name until now. Your eyes flutter open and dart around the area before drowsily settling on Jinyoung. The vampire in question breathes a sigh of relief, caressing the apple of your cheek with his thumb.

“There you are.” He murmurs, “How do you feel?”

“Like I was stabbed…” You raise an eyebrow before peering down at the pencil protruding from your abdomen, “Well, would you look at that.”

Jinyoung holds back a smile at your sarcasm, appreciating that even wounded, you still manage to bear your usual fiery charm. His own eyes turn down to the object jabbed within your waist. He carefully analyzes the damage, determining the best possible solution to its extraction. As you said on the call, the pencil itself is trapped inside your ribcage. Jinyoung will have to be careful not to accidentally fracture your bones.

He bites the inside of his cheek before returning his attention back to you. “I need to remove it, but it’s going to be painful. Very painful.”

You roll your eyes, “It will also hurt a lot less when it’s out. I can handle it.”

“I know you can.”

Jinyoung keeps his gaze connected to yours as he wraps his fingers around the wood of the pencil, taking extra care not to brush against the swollen skin of the lesion. Your expression remains fatigued, yet indifferent during his preparation. He waits for your nod before he continues.

In order to prevent as much further damage and to make it as painless as possible, Jinyoung removes the pencil as quickly as he can. Your furrowed brow and teary eyes slice at his soul, but he doesn’t stop until the object is completely taken out. Once it's free, Jinyoung tosses the pencil into a nearby trash can, pulls the sweater from his body and utilizes the garment to cover your slightly bleeding wound. He ignores the crimson of your blood staining his fingers, instead lifting his clean arm to his mouth before biting down.

“What… are you doing?”

“My blood will heal you.” Jinyoung answers, offering forth his bloody wrist. “It’s how I saved you after your assault in the alleyway.”

“If I die with your blood in my system, won’t I become a vampire?”

“You aren’t going to die.”

You shake your head, pushing away his wrist. “Thanks for the offer, but I’d rather not risk anything.”

“At least allow me to bring you to the hospital then.” He insists, “You’ve lost quite enough blood for one day.”

Jinyoung curses at the mischievous smirk that spreads along your lips. “You have got to stop saving my life.”

“Stop putting yourself in danger, and there would be no need for me to.”

“Last I checked, I had no idea Vampire Victoria Secret was gonna show up and stab me with a fucking writing utensil.” You snort, gesturing over to your desk, “Grab my stuff before we go, please.”

Just as you requested, Jinyoung goes about gathering your laptop and assorted belongings before sliding them into your bag. One book, however, catches his attention. For a moment, he pauses to stare at the title, then flips open the cover. His mouth runs dry when he discovers numerous pages of notes in your handwriting.

Jinyoung closes the book before turning back to you, who is struggling to climb to your feet. He moves to help you, stabilizing your body against the wall while asking, “Why are you researching necromancy?”

“It’s a long story.” You inhale deeply, “But to keep it short… Youngjae and I are going to try to resurrect Jackson Wang.”

At the mention of the alpha werewolf, Jinyoung’s muscles grow stiff. He stares at your face, attempting to read the stars in your dreary irises. After what seems like a long moment of silence, he eventually speaks, albeit quietly, “You understand resurrecting someone from the dead is no simple task… Why would you even attempt such a thing?”

Your expression softens. “Because Jackson didn’t deserve to die, Jinyoung. The pack lost their leader—Mark lost his best friend.”

“Resurrection is a dangerous craft, (Y/N).”

“Not if we find the right spell.” You argue, throwing your bag over your shoulder with a sharp inhale. “I know it sounds bat-shit crazy, but I have to try, Jinyoung. For Jackson and for Mark.”

Jinyoung inhales a heavy gust, before releasing an even heavier breath. He curses himself at being so affected by the hope in your eyes. Your determination is too alluring—you are too alluring.

“I have a collection of grimoires kept by a coven of Dutch witches who specialized in necromancy back in the 15th century.” He finally says, “I will gift them to you as long as you grant me one request.”

Your eyes immediately brighten. “Of course. What do you need me to do?”

Jinyoung grabs your hands. “I want you to forgive my brother.”

“Jinyoung—“

“After you left, Jaebeom fed me his blood.” He explains, “He cured the werewolf venom, so I wouldn’t have to suffer.”

Your face first contorts to confusion, then to Jinyoung’s surprise, guilt. “He didn’t tell me…”

“As I told you, Jaebeom has a good heart.” His lips upturn into a sad smile, “He just… has difficulty revealing that side of himself to others.”

With that, Jinyoung carefully gathers your body into his arms. He manages to cover your soiled clothes with your jacket before heading for the door.

“It is your choice. I will give you the grimoires no matter what you decide.”

Jinyoung’s heart leaps when your head collapses against his chest, right over where his heart proceeds to race. Judging by your silence, he expects your mind to have descended into unconsciousness once more, but is pleasantly surprised when your slurred voice reaches his ears, “Hey, Jinyoung?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks for saving me. Again.”

Jinyoung smiles, “It was my pleasure, (Y/N).”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“Such a fucking idiot!...” Youngjae hisses, stomping his way past gravestones and monuments through the light of the setting sun. Usually, he would stop to appreciate such a beautiful moment in nature, but his mind is too preoccupied with thoughts of remorse and anger.

Youngjae knew better than to keep something like this from Mark. His heart immediately drops when he thinks back to the older witch’s furious outburst—Youngjae hasn’t seen him that angry in a long time. Not since Jackson was alive.

He shakes the thought from mind. He should have never agreed to your idea in the first place. Jackson Wang is dead. And he can’t be brought back. End of story.

A faint murmur of voices awakens Youngjae from his self-loathing. He hadn’t realized how deep he has traveled into the forest until now, so deep that he’s very close to the shore of the bay. His curiosity expands when he notices a strange light emitting from behind a group of closely placed trees. Against his better judgement, Youngjae decides to investigate.

The nearer he approaches the site, the louder the voices grow. With a closer view, Youngjae can barely make out two figures conversing in front of a large bonfire. Due to the shadows of tree cover, he can’t recognize their faces, but something about their voices seems familiar to him…

“You’re sure this is going to work?”

“I’ve been planning this for years. There’s no way it won’t.”

“Doesn’t this spell need a crazy amount of power?”

“There will be a blood moon tomorrow night.” Youngjae watches as one of the figures retreats to the opposite side of the fire. If he is a bit closer, he might be able to catch a glimpse of his face. “I will have more than enough power to complete the transformation.”

“And it won’t kill me? The transformation?”

“You sound like you’re having second thoughts…”

“I’m not!” The second figure insists, “The Primes deserve to pay for what they’ve done.”

“And pay they will.” Youngjae’s blood runs cold as he finally gains sight of one of the figures. “The Primes and Mark Tuan.”

“Holy shit—” Youngjae moves to make a mad dash back through the forest, but just as he takes a step backwards, his foot catches a large divot in the earth. He crashes to the ground with a faint yelp, cursing the new ache in his ankle. Panic skyrockets through his veins at the sound of approaching footsteps. Even against the slight pain, Youngjae manages to force himself to his feet, ready to make a break for it, but a broad chest halts his movements.

Youngjae’s heart stops when he meets the gaze of Changbin, the temperamental omega from the werewolf pack.

He smirks, “Your mother ever tell you it’s rude to eavesdrop?”

Youngjae hisses, “Screw you.”

Changbin remains unbothered. “What should we do with him?”

“Well… we can’t have him warning anyone of our plans.” Minho comes into view, wearing a similar smirk to that of the werewolf. “And besides, he might turn out to be pretty useful to us.”

“Why are you doing this!?” Youngjae demands as Changbin shoves him back to the ground. “Are you that desperate for revenge that you’d actually kill Mark-hyung!?”

Minho shakes his head, “I’m not gonna kill him. That special gift is reserved for the Primes.” He chuckles, before lifting his shoulders in a shrug. “I’m just gonna take back what I rightfully deserve…”

Youngjae sneers at the witch, “You’re a fucking traitor! A sick, selfish—”

The siphoner immediately grows silent when Changbin lands a harsh hit against his cheek. At the heavy impact, Youngjae goes flying to the earth and doesn’t rise again.

Changbin glances at Minho, “You sure about all this?”

Minho only smirks.

“I’m dead sure.”

53 notes · View notes

artxyra · 4 years

Text

Another DC TA Marinette | #2

*So I’m still not good at fighting sequences, so if the fight scene towards the end seems off and not quite right, I’m sorry. Also if you asked to be tagged and don’t see your name please tell (DM) me so that I can add you to the next part. I’m aiming for at least 5 parts for this version, so we shall see how this will go.

Part 1 | Part 2 (here) |

Part 2: Dupont Meet Gotham

Caline was very, very sorry for her class. They haven’t been in Gotham for a single day and Lila’s already causing trouble. The trouble that cannot be fixed if something goes wrong here. There was no Hawkmoth to save her or to validate her emotions. It was no secret that Caline has Marinette on speed dial, but she knew how much the graduate loves her time away from this class. Maybe it was best to bring Marinette in and give the class a shock, but it may be too late for that.

“No, no, I’m Damian Wayne’s girlfriend, there must be a special or something for your boss’ heir.” Lila tries to spin her web of lies to the barista as the class gathers around at a nearby cafe.

The barista stares boringly at the Italian native waiting for her to make up her mind and order already.

“Look girly, you’re holding up the line. We don’t do specials for Wayne’s here, and if you’re truly Damian Wayne’s girlfriend then you would know that.” The barista states gesturing to the long line full of Dupont’s students and actual customers.

Lila’s eyes began to get teary-eyed, “I will have you know…”

“Lady, if you don’t order something in the next five seconds, you will be kick outta here.” The barista firmly states glaring at Lila with no room for negotiations.

Lila scoffs and runs into Alya’s waiting arms, crying her eyes out. Alya glares at the barista, who gave zero fucks about what just happened and takes the order of the next person.

“Shh...everything will be okay, Lila. Besides, don’t you have that date tonight with your boo?”

Lila sniffles a laugh and nods. Oh, how she has them deeply entangled in her web. “Then let this one incident go and let’s go out the strip, you can spend some of my earning for ice cream or something.”

Caline along with everyone (meaning two people, maybe four people) in the Marinette protection squad could do is either roll their eyes or shake their heads.

Chloe with her coffee in hand scoffs at the scene in front of her and looks over to Adrien. “At least she’s not hanging onto you every second of the day.” She jokes remembering the times when Lila’s lies were small and surrounding around the Agreste name.

Adrien softly groans, “Don’t remind me. For she had to be my date to one of my father’s fashion shows which were quite weird considering that I was already with Luka when it happened.”

“Yeesh,” Chloe grimace at the thought of that situation. Her phone buzz signaling an incoming message. It’s from Marinette.

“Bug is texting. I’m surprised she didn’t send it to the group chat.” Chloe states before taking a sip of her drink and opening the message.

Multi-Bug: Hey did you get to Gotham, alright?

Melitta Bee: Yea, y weren’t u w/ us?

Multi-Bug: You’ll see why soon ;)

Multi-Bug: Anywho, how’s the class goin?

Melitta Bee: Gettin worse by the min

Multi-Bug: It will be good soon

Chloe scoffs at the message and shakes her head. “Bug will be the death of me., literally.” She groans opting to not reply to the message.

“What did she say?” Adrien asks keeping a firm eye on Lilia, looking to see if she does anything stupid to get them killed.

“You know how cryptic she can be. All I got from that was that everything will be fine. Like how she’s going to get here? Seriously, this trip is utterly ridiculous, ridiculous.” Chloe vents to the model.

Adrien nods, but then quickly nudges Chloe seeing that Lila is heading there way.

“Oh look, trouble.” Chloe jokes as Lila stands very close to the two blondes.

“Do you always complain about stuff, Chloe. I only came here to befriend you seeing that Mari isn't here to corrupt you.” And there goes the dramatics.

“The only thing that is corrupted is you and this fucking class.” Chloe turns around, grabbing Adrien’s hand, and walk out of the cafe.

Chloe B. @queenbeeyellow Hey, wish @mdcfashion is here with us. It’s boring here w/ only @adrienagreste

Attach is an image of Chloe and Adrien in front of the cate wearing sunglass and making funny hand gestures towards the camera. It was clear that it was a selfie.

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

Marinette smiles at the tweet before returning her attention back to the Headmaster of Gotham Academy, Mr. Collingwood .

“Miss Dupain-Cheng, where are your key cards for access to the building of both here and to your class’s residential stay. Will you be joining them at the hotel or be staying with Mr. Wayne?”

“I’ll be staying with Mr. Wayne, Mr. Collingwood .” She answers with a soft smile.

The headmaster nods and leans back into his chair.

“I’m I required to participate in class sessions as a student or am I just there to observe?” It was an honest question seeing that she is the teacher assistant rather than a student.

“That would depend on your class’ homeroom teacher. It is most likely that you and that teacher’s T.A. would work together and demonstrate whatever projects are and hand out paperwork.” He answers clasping his hands together as his focus remains on Marinette.

Marinette nods and takes the small stack of supplies into her arms.

Marinette: I have gotten everything ready

Marinette: Everything should be set for Monday. I’ll see you then.

Mme. Bustier: Oh thank you, Marinette.

Mme. Bustier: Your classmates will be ecstatic to know that you’ll be here.

Marinette: I doubt that.

Caline Bustier closes her messenger app and turns to the class and gasps. The core Lila group is missing. No longer in the cafe, just great, great. They barely know their surrounding area despite what Lila said about being here, but if that was true it wasn’t recently. Places change and Gotham is no different.

“Chloe, Adrien, do you know where the core group went?” Caline asks, turning her attention to the two blondes drinking, perhaps coffee, maybe even tea.

Chloe shrugs while Adrien shakes his head unsure how to answer. It was no secret that the dislike the Lila group.

“First day here and I’ve already lost some teens.” Caline huffs and walks out of the cafe to find her so-called perfect students.

“Did she look panic to you?” Adrien asks setting his drink down.

Chloe nods, “Should we go help?”

“It’ll lessen her panic attack later.” Adrien agrees as the two of them get up and follow their teacher.

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

Tina @thepinkmistress #anotherdayingotham so apparently Two-Face has a bunch of foreigners held at gunpoint. They’re officially now apart of Gotham

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

With Lila and her small crew of loyal followers, they were just stirring up trouble. It all started when Alya offered to take Lila out to the strip for shopping not realizing how dangerous it was to be. Well, it’s not like they cared. To them, this was a vacation with added on classes.

“Oh, I can’t believe my Damibear texted me saying that he was excited that I was back in town. We can finally rekindle that long lost love we had.” Lila gossips about as the two were entering a nearby storefront.

“Girl, you’ve waited long enough, let’s go prep you for your man,” Alya exclaims dragging the twin tail girl further into the store. Nino unsure why he is with them just sighs and looks for something to give to Alya as he wasn’t able to for their anniversary.

“What do you mean, he doesn’t have a discount here?” Oh great, here we go again.

“Look, lady, Damian Wayne may be a big name here, but we don’t do discounts for people like him.” The store attendant spoke up about rubbing her hands against her face.

“Surely, he would have a tab open or something. He knows this is one of my favorite stores to shop in when I’m in town.”

“Uh...we just opened our stores, like, two years ago. That and we’re strictly located here and in Metropolis.”

Lila pouts and begins to throw a fit. If only, Hawkmoth was here.

“Girl. I sure this is some kind of mishap. I’ll pay for the clothes and then we can go sightseeing in this part of town.” Alya offers, showing her a credit card in her hand.

Lila squeals and jumps into Alya’s arms. Little did she know that it was actually Nino’s credit card instead of Alya’s. Alya’s parents were very concern about their daughter’s spending habits and put a cap on it that she clearly maxed out before the trip.

Ivan walks over to Nino seeing as the poor DJ was lonely and that Mylene was trapped in the web of lies, well he is too, but he hides it well under the impression that it’s to make Mylene happy.

“You okay?” Ivan asks catching the Dj’s attention.

Nino grunts and shakes his headphones off. “No--yes-maybe, I don’t know.” He admits staring off to the empty space that was his girlfriend and her best friend.

Before Ivan could answer, a loud scream can be heard from outside the store.

“Shit, do not leave this place.” The store attendant gasps, only to be ignored by the remaining students of Dupont. The store attendant sighs and ducks behind the desk.

“Lila!” Alya screeches.

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

Miraculously Safe GC:

Melitta: How quickly can you lose a spider?

Ryouko: Quick why?

Musical Viper: That depends, when did you see the spider? How big was it?

Melitta: Mme. B lost the spider and her trapees

Multi-Bug: WHAT!!!

PunNoir: Yeah, she lost them so now we’re out searching for them.

Melitta: It’s not like they went that far?

Multi-Bug: You’re in Gotham, crime central, and she lost some students!!!

Ryouko: I’m sure everything will be fine, Bee.

Musical Viper: Keep your eyes open, Punn, if things do go wrong we’re only a plane ticket away.

Melitta: SHIT!! Lila started up another mess.

Muli-Bug: WHAT!!!

Chloe and Adrien quickly hide their phones and disappear behind a building, hoping that the shadows cover them from the watchful eyes of Two-Face and his minions.

Mme. Bustier apparently didn’t get that message and wounded up wrapped into the mess her students have caused.

Two-Faced stares menacing at the teens as his men surround the group all at gunpoint.

Lila being the idiot she is started crying how her Damibear would pay him, save her even. The man was not swayed.

“Clean, we shut the girl up; scarred, we kill her right here and now.” He murmurs drawing out his lucky coin to do his bidding. “However, we don’t have much time. That bats would be here any minute.”

As Two-Face explains his plan to his men, one of the guns goes off. Everyone shrieks in terror. Alya stares, frozen as her phone lays died with a bullet hole on the ground. Blood seeps through her hands.

“Boss, she was filming us.” One of the henchmen explains with steam oozing out of his gun.

“Dumb girl, did she really think it was smart to film right in front of us. At least be like every citizen here and do it in secret.” Two-Face groans, gesturing for the men to fire a new round.

Everything freeze, while Lila screams her head off naming off every possible hero she could think of.

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

Marinette runs through the city at a hasty pace. She’s maneuvering her way through the large crowd of citizens all trying to get away from the lastest villain attack down near the shopping strip. Marinette comes to a barreling stop.

She could hear the cries of Lila Rossi from a block away and it was painful to hear. Her naming every hero only to get knocked upside the head by one of the henchmen. This will not look good for the exchange program in the future. Mme. Bustier tries—and fails—to negotiate with Two-Face.

Two-Face keeps playing with his coin deciding what misery he shall put these foreigners through just to grab the Bat’s attention. Then again would he even care, that just means new toys for him and his men.

Marinette looks around searching for a distraction. Nothing comes up. She needs to think fast seeing as the Batfam and they are currently being held up. Not that the public needs to know that. She got it. Getting closer to the range. She then pulls out her traveling yoyo and readies a swing.

Just as Two-Face flips his coin, Marinette throws the yoyo.

The yoyo knocks the coin away, just as the string wraps around it as she pulls back. The Parisians students look up hoping to see a familiar hero in red and black. They saw no one.

“Find my coin you fools and kill however took the dang thing.” Two-Face shouts out in a fit of rage.

Marinette yelps and disappears around the corner. She finds Chloe and Adrien hiding spot not far from her. Unwrapping the coin from the string, she tosses it up into the sky and takes off before gunshots are heard near her way.

“Thank god you guys are okay.” She pants out, scaring Chloe in the process as the Bee miraculous holder shrieks out and attempts to roundhouse kick the graduate. “Chloe! It’s me.”

“Multi?” Chloe gasps out in shock as she finally takes in the appearance of her leader. Marinette wasn’t in her usual Paris getup but instead in a pair of black leggings, an over-the-shoulder tee with all the Batfamily emblems. Ankle boot thick heels, good for running. The biggest difference being her hair as it’s half up and half down with pink lowlights covering the once fully black, nearly blue hair. “Damn, hun, you look fine.”

Marinette chuckles, “I’m sure ‘Gami would love to hear you say that.”

Chloe shrugs as Adrien comes out of his shocked stance. “Mari, what? How? When?”

“At ease Chaton, I’ve been here in Gotham for the past few weeks. However, that is not our issue right now. The class is being held hostage by Two-Face, a villain with a mess-up sense of justice. An excellent attorney but he has a few loose screws. I bought the class time from being publicly executed for the Bats to get here. I just hope that they do it quickly.

From the corner of her eye, Marinette could spot the familiar colors, that she very much hate but haven’t gotten the time to screech at them for, appearing on the rooftops of a nearby building.

“Thank kwami, they’re here.”

“Who’s here?” Adrien and Chloe chimes together. Marinette smiles at the two with a twinkle in her eyes.

“Two-Face let the students go?” Batman demands, appearing on the scenes with little to no room for negotiations.

“And where’s the fun in that, Batman?” Two-Face asks as a new coin is placed into his hand. It may not be the one that Marinette stole but it will do. “Clean says I leave, but scarred says I will kill every one of them.” He tosses the coin up.

The coin lands in his hand, lifting his hand up it shows the scarred face of the coin. “Oh look at that, they’re dead anyway.”

Immediately, the henchman readies there guns only for bat-a-rangs to knock them out of the out of their hands.

“They never come alone do they?” Two-Face mutters as Robin and Nightwing jumps down into the scene.

Robin with no hesitation attacks and disarm whoever comes his way. Batman could only facepalm seeing his son basically ignore the plan. Nightwing shrugs and joins in. This only left the big Bat and Two-Face at a stand-off. Two-Face readies his own gun and shoots a couple of rounds at the dark knight.

It wasn’t long before the fight ends and the paramedics come in to help the injured students. Marinette motions for Chloe and Adrien to follow. She walks over to Robin with her arms folded against her chest.

“You shouldn’t be here.” He whispers to her when she was in earshot. Marinette huffs and rolls her eyes before playing the average Batfamily fangirl.

“Oh my god, Batman, you saved my class!” She squeals. Her voice catches the attention of her conscious classmates.

“Marinette?!” They shout in disbelief as Mme. Bustier smiles in relief.

The paramedics gave Mme. Bustier a slip as the class minus Aly and Lilia, both who are still in custody of the paramedics, run over to their missing classmate.

Marinette quickly gives Robin a knowing look before focusing her attention on the class.

It wasn’t long before she’s surrounded by an overwhelming amount of questions. So, now they care about her.. Yikes. Marinette turns to Chloe and Adrien for help. Chloe scoffs and shoves through the class.

“Leave the girl alone, besides you just went through something most people would consider traumatizing but knowing us this is nothing compare to dealing with akumas.”

Marinette smiles at Chloe.

The class disperses.

“Maybe it’s time for us to head back to the hotel.” Mme. Bustier pipes up knowing full well that she’ll have to report this incident to the board under the predicament that it was due to Lila’s compulsive lying that put them through struggle.

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

At the Dupont’s homestay--well it was more of a hotel than anything, Lila and Alya were ushered to their rooms while the rest of the class goes to comfort the two in the best way possible. While that was going on. Marinette decided to have a meeting with Caline about the issue.

“She can’t be alone in this city.”

“I know that, Marinette.”

“On a different note, I’ll be attending your class session at the academy.”

“That’s good, isn’t it? “I suppose, but it’ll be slightly harder to keep my status as a lycee graduate under wraps.”

“You’re what!” The familiar sound of Chloe’s shrill voice echos in the room.

“Hi Chloe,” Marinette meekly greets one of her best friends.

“Don’t hey Chloe, me missy. When were you going to tell us that you graduate?”

Caline took this moment to exit the room leaving the two teens to their demise.

“Do you want the real answer or the answer that will satisfy you?”

Chloe glares down at the teacher assistant.

Marinette sighs, “I’ve been done with lycee since last quarter. Instead of making a big deal of graduating early, I volunteered to be a teacher assistant for the rest of the year while I start my university courses online.”

Chloe looks down before hugging Marinette. “Thank you,” She whispers into the graduate’s neck. “You could have left Adrien and me to the spider but you chose not to. Thank you, Multi for everything.”

Marinette blinks the tear away and returns the hug.

Marinette left the hotel with the promise of catching up tomorrow when they have class. The only thing good that came through was that she didn’t have to deal with Alya or Lila that night, the next day, she wasn’t so sure yet.

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

“That was really stupid of you, Angel, to get involve like that,” Damian states bringing his girlfriend into his arms when she’s safely located in his bedroom.

Marinette giggles and kisses his cheek. “It wasn’t like I was directly involved., my Prince.” She whispers into his ear. A faint pink blush against Damian’s cheeks.

“If it wasn’t for Robin and the rest, you could have been killed if Two-Face found out that it was you that took his coin.”

“You know I’m stronger than what I look. Besides, I have better things to worry about than a villain that isn’t my foe.”

Damian groans, “Angel, you will be the death of me.”

Instead of speaking, Marinette kisses him, allowing him to pull them onto the bed.

“Use protection!” One of his brothers shout out, it was most likely Jason.

“Kill him in the morning, when I’m not around.” Marinette murmurs before preceding with their original plan.

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

The next morning, the Dupont class along with Marinette stands outside the booming gates of Gotham Academy.

“I wonder if my Damibear is here, too. The last I heard he was overseas on a family vacation.” Lila blissfully wonders to get the reassurance from her loyal friends.

Marinette rolls her eyes and looks to the person walking towards the gate.

Manette @gothamsfashionsense Hanging out in GA for the next couple of days. Does anyone want to join?

In the image attached is a photo of a coffee cup in one hand with the gates of Gotham Academy in the background.

As of 12/9/19, the Tag List is CLOSED

Any asks before that will still be added. After that, I’m sorry but can follow my fic tags.

#daminette #marinette x damian #teacher assistant Marinette AU #teacher assistant au #maribat #dc x mlb #ml x dc #dc crossover #ml crossover #miraculous ladybug fanfic #miraculous ladybug

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tirednotflirting · 3 years

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i'm all butterflies (i'm sky-high for you)

just found this lil thing in my wips and i’ve decided (like two months after not thinking about it) that i actually like it.

title from feels like this by maisie peters

read here on ao3

It’s too early to be thinking like this, Ashton keeps telling himself. He can’t be thinking like this so soon. It’s asking for complete and total disaster, for running back up and checking to see if you lit the fuse on the firecracker kind of disaster. It feels terrifying but it’s the kind of feeling he’s found himself craving as of late.

Some 20 or so feet away he can Luke smiling brightly as he tells a story, his hand not holding a glass of wine waving through the air, those in the little circle around him laughing like he’s telling them the funniest thing they’ve ever heard. Luke tends to do that, he can capture the heart and attention of anyone around him in seconds with his bright smile and wide blue eyes. He makes coming to these kinds of things easier. And not just because Ashton suddenly has someone to smile beside rather than forcing himself back into the role of the class clown. He wants to listen to and look at Luke just as much as everyone else in the room.

He had been hesitant to ask Luke to join him for the several weddings and showers he had been invited to that summer. This thing between them was still new. It was intimidating to ask a new love to attend one wedding let alone five in the span of two months. But when Luke had come back to Ashton’s after a movie for a coffee and a finish to their never ending conversation, he had seen the save the dates on the fridge and practically begged Ashton to take him along as a plus one. Helped search through registries and everything. When Ashton had teasingly asked about his interest in attending so many celebrations of love, Luke had only smiled lazily and spewed a few wine drunk poetic lines about love that had Ashton diving across the couch to press their lips together and fit his fingers in the spaces betweens Luke’s.

The summer of weddings had been fun. They had danced and sang and drank their way through May and June, giggling through cheesy slow dances after too many spritzes and shared blushed looks when reaching for sweaty hands during vows that hit just a little too close to home. This was so so new, Ashton kept reminding himself every time Luke would finish his sentences when speaking to old high school friends or when he would wrap his arms around his middle once returning from the bar with another glass of wine, blue eyes meeting his own hazel before a kiss was pressed to the tip of his nose in thanks.

In his earlier twenties, weddings had been a bore for Ashton, even when he managed to find someone else going stag to spend time with, he still felt very on his own. Which he always justified to be as okay; it was a celebration of the love between two other people, he didn’t need to be trying to force that emotion into his own life. But then a bubbly blonde quite literally tripped his way over his own legs in a coffee shop and into Ashton’s life and suddenly the idea of navigating any part of life without him, even after just under four months, made no sense at all to Ashton.

They’re at an adoption party now. The summer of weddings was over though Luke had a countdown on his phone to the winter destination wedding Ashton’s friend from his cohort was having in December. It was early September so classes had started up again but no one was really too thick into the courses they were teaching to have an excuse not to attend the celebration for Michael and Calum’s little one that had just arrived into their life. How anyone had the time for babies during graduate school was beyond him, but Ashton was over the moon to see his friends so happy.

His focus returns to Luke then, his story obviously coming to a close now as Kaylee, one of Ashton’s past colleagues in the lab, sets a hand to his arm and smiles up at him as Luke nods, his focus settled intently on the shorter girl. Luke laughs brightly then and nods and before he knows it, both of their faces turn to where Ashton sits at a baby yellow draped table. Ashton feels a blush creep up to his cheeks as he tries to playfully roll his eyes as he gets up to meet the small group.

“What are you kids getting up to over here, huh?” Ashton jokes as he lets a hand drop to the bottom of Luke’s back, not missing his way he leans just slightly into the touch.

“I was just telling Kaylee about how much of a zombie you turned into last month the week those grant proposals were due,” Luke smiles as he leans over just the slightest bit to press a kiss to Ashton’s temple. “And she was telling me the story of when you slept in a sleeping bag in the lab when testing those catalysts during your rotations. Said it looked like you were having a bit of a slumber party.”

“Oh come on,” Ashton scoffs with a laugh. “If Henderson had just had the guts to ask that post-doc to split the measurements with me this wouldn’t have been a problem! God, I was barely a person that semester.”

Kaylee shakes her head, excusing herself from the conversation to go grab herself a drink. Luke smiles his goodbye, thanking her for the conversation, before turning to face Ashton, his arms moving to drape over his shoulders. He lets his glass of white wine dangle somewhat precariously between his fingers as he pulls Ashton closer in, the other boy’s arms moving to wrap around his waist. “Feel weird yet that you’re going to be a whole Dr Irwin in a few months?

Ashton hums at the feeling of Luke brushing his fingers through the curls at the back of his neck. “Probably won’t feel real until I’m handed the diploma. Or when a student shows up scared at my office hours and says it for the first time.”

“You’re ridiculous.” “I don’t know,” Ashton smirks up at his boy. “You ready to hear Dr Hemmings yet?”

Luke lifts the hand that holds his glass of wine and waves it around at nothing while smiling at Ashton’s playful tone. “It’s different for musicians. We always call each other by first names. Nothing like this nonsense you guys have over in science. Too stuffy.”

Ashton raises a brow at the comment. “I’m stuffy?”

“Oh hush,” Luke shakes his head with a pout. “You know you’re not like most of them. You’re special to me in every definition of the word. Come on, I want to meet Aleena.”

Ashton lets Luke reach down for his hand, their fingers tangling together as he pulls them in the direction of the table where Michael and Calum sit, a tiny bundle tucked against Calum’s chest while they speak with their mothers. Calum seems to be doing much more of the talking while Michael smiles softly at the baby in his husband’s arms, his finger tucked inside her tiny fist.

“Hi boys,” Calum greets them warmly as they approach while the mothers wander off toward the tables of food set up on the opposite end of the lawn. The signs of parenthood already show on the couple, their eyes just a little bit more tired than a typical graduate student. Calum rubs his hand against the back of the tiny human tucked against him, his upper half gently swaying back and forth some.

“Congratulations, guys, happy she’s finally here,” Ashton smiles warmly as Michael tucks an arm around him to pull him briefly into his side. The three of them had started their program together what felt like a lifetime ago. Ashton had felt a particular joy getting to watch the couple come together and start their own family.

“You know I was thinking about it the other day,” Michael muses as he steps around Ashton to greet Luke in a similar fashion. “And all of the paperwork combined probably weighed more than our child does. It’s mad.”

“To be fair, Mike, babies are small,” Ashton laughs. He turns then to see Calum handing over the tiny bundle to a now sitting Luke, softly instructing how to support Baby Aleena while he adjusts the fleecy blanket around her tiny frame. From where he stands, Ashton can see the baby is fast asleep and his eyes glitter at the way Luke looks down at her.

He feels something akin to a fight or flight response as he carries on the conversation with his two friends, discussing their projects and what the start of the semester has looked like for him. He can’t help the way he tucks himself a bit closer to where Luke sits, letting the blonde lean his head against his hip while a hand moves to fix the collar of his shirt. More than once does Ashton catch a knowing look from Calum.

Eventually Aleena starts whining some, her nap seemingly over and her confusion at the number of people around her evident. Luke gently hands the baby back up to Michael and the couples part ways, the new parents heading in the direction of the backdoor into their house. Luke stands then, his hands dropping to Ashton’s shoulders as he presses a kiss to his forehead.

“Gonna grab another one of those lemonades, you want anything?”

Ashton shakes his head, one of his own hands lifting to cover Luke’s on his left shoulder, his thumb running over his knuckles. “I’m good for now. Thanks, love,” he stops his thumb for a moment and moves to better hold his hand. “Hey, I’m glad you’re here. Like, with me.”

Luke lifts Ashton’s hand that had been holding his own up to his lips and pressed a kiss to his knuckles as he smiles dazedly. “Happy I’m with you too, Ash.” There’s something just a bit more ambiguous in the way he responds but Ashton isn’t given a chance to question him before Luke turns and heads in the direction of the drink table.

Ashton gets pulled into a different conversation then, getting asked about how his writing is going and the new project he’s started his undergraduate assistants on. He knows it's rude but he can’t help the way that he keeps looking to find where Luke has gotten up to in between his responses to questions. He finds it so curious how his eyes are instantly drawn to the tall, smiling blonde regardless of where he’s made his way to around the room. He considers for a moment if it’s just the more definable physical characteristics of his boyfriend that make the search easier on his eyes but as he catches Luke tossing over a quick wink, Ashton’s heart fluttering some at the action, he knows then that it’s something different.

It’s the ease in the way their love fits into Ashton’s life and the warmth he felt watching Luke hold his friends’ daughter. It’s the gentle touches and the way Ashton can hear Luke’s laugh the second it leaves his lips regardless of where he is in a room full of people without a moment of hesitation. It’s love, he thinks. And though it's still so early, Ashton finds himself thinking that that kind of love is something he could get used to.

#lashton #lashton fic #with some side malum bc come on #maisie series #...yeah im fucking doing it #i have another one also chilling in a doc but i requires more work than this so we gotta wait on that one + it's like sad #writing

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fairfieldthinkspace · 3 years

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Ignatian Spiritual Exercises at Fairfield University

Thomas J. Fitzpatrick, S.J.

Fairfield University

On January 1st, 2014, I joined the Jesuit Community at Fairfield University. I was 77 years old. I had been Superior/Director of the Jesuit Center in Amman, Jordan, for 14 years, and the Superior/Director of the Pontifical Biblical Institute in Jerusalem, Israel, for 10 years. These long years in the Middle East in the center of the Arab/Israeli conflict proved in an ironic way to be personally and professionally a significant preparation for what I was to do at Fairfield University. In the extended exposure to the extreme, tragic, human pain of the Middle East, I lived with a constant sense of inadequacy and helplessness; I failed in Arabic and Hebrew; I lost my theology.

Upon my return from the Middle East to the United States my Provincial Superior asked what I wanted to do. I responded I was too exhausted - depleted – to answer specifically, but I had the inspiration to say I know what I do not want to do: I do not want to be in charge of anything anymore, and then the particular grace - I just want to talk about God.

I joined the Fairfield Jesuit Community with the intention that maybe I could help out in spiritual direction or other pastoral endeavors for the community. I came with no official connection with the university, no paying job. I had the freedom to discover what I possibly could do, what I would like to do, where I could be a help. I was free of institutional and bureaucratic strictures. Guiding people in the Ignatian Spiritual Exercises captured my attention.

I began to look the place over, identify people who might possibly be interested in the doing the spiritual exercises. I wandered around the university and began literally to knock on people’s doors. I had no plan – just search out and relate to members of the university community.

One of the first persons I spoke with was the Vice President of Student Affairs. After several conversations he decided to accept my invitation to walk with him through the full Ignatian Exercises. That the exercises went so well for this vice president and that he talked with others about it, the door was opened to other administrators: top university administration, vice presidents, deans; eventually it bled over to members of the board of trustees.

I highlight in the success I experienced several factors: my health, my spiritual journey, my method in attracting individuals. I end with several developing programs.

HEALTH

Upon returning from the Middle East in the fall of 2007, I was burnt out more than I wanted to admit. I was granted sabbatical time to pray and think in peace and quiet. I for a good period of my life had been aware of the over consumption of our culture, but now returning from long exposure to extreme poverty I was now much more confronted by excessive consumption. But, in fact, I must confess I had long been an over-consumer myself. In the Middle East I payed little attention to my health – I ate and drank merrily. In this phase change from the Middle East, looking ahead into the now elderly and uncertain period of my life, I took a radical step and became a teetotaler and vegan – overnight. In becoming a non-drinking vegan the biggest difficulty was social: people close to me thought I was crazy. They changed when after a year and a half I lost 125 pounds.

The motivation of the radical change was multi layered. The state of my health was the immediate stimulus, but because of my long years in the Middle East, the motivation went deeper. I had been exposed to hungry people in the world – people who spend most of their time and energy seeking food. (In Amman, Jordan, I had a good friend, Sr. Annie, whose full time occupation was helping people obtain food. All donations I received for the poor I passed on to Sr. Annie for her continual quest for food for the poor). Now back in the States, I was confronted with the irony that in our over consumptive world many of us spend energy keeping food away. I, then, in becoming a vegan and non-drinker, in keeping food away, interiorly in the presence of God consciously identified with the poor. To be sure, the poor do not get what I deny but the gesture is humanly very significant for me. People sponsor running events for various reasons – running for cancer, for example, or gay rights. I was not drinking, not eating for the poor. This motivation deepened the reason for the restriction of consumption. Another insight was very helpful in staying with the discipline necessary for this new regime: the continuing mindfulness that in table fellowship people are more important than the food.

This change in consumption and the discipline necessary to maintain it was to become a very important factor in the flourishing of my spiritual life and apostolic work at Fairfield University.

SPIRITUAL JOURNEY

In the long years in the Middle East I did accomplish some degree of creativity; I founded the Jesuit Center in Amman, Jordan, assisting the local church in a number of ways. And then in Jerusalem, as director of the Pontifical Biblical Institute, I was responsible for the members of the Jesuit Community and 25 international students each year in their quest for higher degrees in biblical studies. I had close ties with Bethlehem University and Hebrew University. (At Bethlehem University I founded the Cardinal Martini Leadership Institute.) The struggle in doing ordinary daily work was within the larger social, economic, religious turmoil of the Arab/Israeli conflict which weighed heavily upon my heart, and was the on-going challenge for my faith journey. But that extreme human tragedy – with its pain – has happened to be a significant grace for my success at Fairfield University.

The only way I could have not only survived in the Middle East, but also attained some creativity, was through the depth of my journey with God. I know myself as having been graced by God over my whole life. It was the very movement of God that I went to the Middle East in the first place – at 50 years of age. God was nudging me to do something radically different in my service of him and his people – so I went off and immersed myself in the Arab world.

As a result of becoming a tee totaling vegan, I began to experience a pervading sense of ‘integration.’ In my life journey with God I now sensed an overarching grace – let’s call it – evenness with God. God had been always there in the darkness, the pain, the joys. But I do not know of any phase in my life when I felt more integrated – mind, spirit, heart, body – than in this elderly phase. Sparked by the radical change in consumption, I grew especially in a deep sense of harmony between body and spirit. I have in recent times, to the amusement of people, described myself as “this rather old, somewhat well put together, happy, sexually alive celibate.” Now, if there is any doubt, I stress very explicitly and strongly that the change in consumption and the sense of integration are most significantly founded in the on-going breaking through of God in my whole person.

So, I arrived at Fairfield University at 77 years of age to do what I could in leading people through the Ignatian Spiritual Exercises. I describe my spiritual journey and interior state because if anyone wants to know how the success could be repeated the spiritual aspect is the most important and that perhaps is not able to be institutionalized.

I had lost my theology in the Middle East—well, in fact, I had been losing it over decades prior to the immersion in the Middle East. I had been changing profoundly in a way of thinking about myself, the church, the world for a very long time. The Middle East put a cap on that. In the extremes of the Middle East it became easier for me to realize and accept that the symbolic world I had constructed out of my education did not help in meeting the realities of life for me and others today. There may be a helpful analogy from married life. A couple over years may be living out their lives with a verbal description of their relationship that has become a façade. And they maintain that inadequate image of themselves and project that to others. But then because of some very great trauma (perhaps the death of a child) the relationship may easily fall apart; their symbolic representation of their marriage is too weak adequately to include the experienced tragedy. The erosion of my symbolic universe – my theology – was significantly quickened by the tragedy of the Middle East.

Significant with the loss of a theology is the loss of an institution – the specific institutional form that was kept afloat by a specific theology. Notice, however, the loss of a theology is not the loss of faith – and the loss of the institution is not the loss of the church.

Therefore, out of a long spiritual journey, I arrived at Fairfield University in 2014, characterized by a spirit of joy, peace, a sense of integration, wanting to communicate with people, in an open honest way, the full sweep of belief in Jesus, putting together in an authentic freshness a joyful talk about God in the midst of over consumption and deteriorating institutions. That is how I describe most significantly my success in leading many trustees, administrators, staff and faculty in the Ignatian Spiritual Exercises.

GATHERING RETREATANTS

On the practical level, one factor in the success has been particularly important, and that is that I have personally invited people into the exercises. I knocked on doors, had brief, passing conversations at various socials, and asked about people. Sometimes the process of personal interaction took several years before the individual entered into the exercises. With some I engaged in spiritual conversation without doing the exercises formally. Some requested to begin the exercises after one conversation. In one instance a person said, “At last you have come.”

Someone asked me once if all these people entering into the spiritual exercises were prepared. I said ‘No!’ I don’t know who is prepared. When I did the spiritual exercises at 18 years of age upon becoming a Jesuit in 1955, I was not prepared. That month was the darkest period in my whole life journey with God. The exercises are very flexible because people are unique; the journey is unique for every individual; the relationship with God is unique. There is no absolute template for everybody. When I did the exercises as a very young Jesuit in a group of about 30 other young Jesuits, we were preached to about four times a day. There was the assumption that the result would be the same for all. That method of doing the exercises imaged the strength of the authoritarian institutional form of the Catholic Church at that time. That overpowering authoritarian, institutional method of doing the exercises was to collapse in about fifteen years, with the return to the original method of guiding people on a one to one basis.

I have wondered in guiding a few people whether I was actually guiding them through the Ignatian Exercises. Whatever, these retreatants did find God and lives were significantly changed. With some it did not matter if I called the process the Ignatian Spiritual Exercises or some other strain of mainline Christian spirituality.

After about two years of engagement in walking with many in the exercises, the Executive Vice President, Kevin Lawlor, who himself had done the exercises, informed me that I should be paid for what I was doing. I had along the way dropped some hints in this regard. I was giving more time and energy than for a full time job. So when I was 80 years of age the Executive Vice President created a special position for me. He said that the President and he were creating this job so I could continue to do what I was doing. What a dream job description: just do what you do!

CHALLENGES

After I began searching out possible candidates with concentration on administrators, issues quickly arose; for one, boundaries. I had no formal training as a spiritual director – a guide in the full Ignatian Exercises. In the early 1980s when I was Assistant Rector at Weston School of Theology in Cambridge, I engaged in much spiritual direction and retreat guidance for Jesuits preparing for ordination – I was learning on the job. As a part of my job I was coordinator of those priests on the faculty who were spiritual directors for the scholastics. We met monthly for conversations stimulated by cases I composed.

In 2014, at the beginning of my engagement in leading administrators in the spiritual exercises at Fairfield, I had a sense of how I should relate with them – keep my personal distance. I had this shadowy image that in the usual state of affairs people would go to retreat houses for retreats, after which they would never, or rarely, meet again with their guide. So I felt it appropriate after finishing guiding individual through the exercises at Fairfield University to keep my distance. But the people I was guiding did not go away after the exercises. We worked in the same community. After finishing the exercises people found it normal to continue relating with me in different ways. Continuing on in spiritual direction was fine, but then the challenge for me arose when relationships began to diversify.

The story that best exemplifies this issue arose in my relationship with the Executive Vice President. He had created the paying position for me in the university. For a few curious reasons I then reported to him. Soon after that he mentioned I was on his staff and he wanted me to attend his staff meetings. This was a surprise and I did not know if this was appropriate because of my relationship with him and the number of vice presidents on his staff whom I also had guided in the spiritual exercises. Would they be content to have me attend meetings on the running of the university when I knew them so very personally from walking with them in the spiritual exercises?

Well, I did begin to attend the staff meetings of the Executive Vice President. A bit uneasy about the very first meeting, I planned to arrive just a few seconds before it began; the participants did not know I would be joining them. Once I entered the room I knew immediately this would go well. The expressions on the faces of the Executive Vice President’s staff were of welcoming and joyful surprise. I have attended more than 60 meetings over the last 4 years, and have lead off each meeting with a prayerful reflection.

In dealing with this issue of diversification and complexity of relationships, reflections on Ignatius and the other founders of the Society of Jesus helped. Ignatius invited his student friends to do the spiritual exercises. They eventually did not only relate as retreatant to director of the exercises, but they stayed together as friends, companions. They continued and developed an on-going spiritual and working relationship out of which eventually emerged the Society of Jesus. In the Society of Jesus in the present era a particular position has served me well in describing relationships I enjoy with many who have done the spiritual exercises at Fairfield University: Formation Director. In becoming a companion with those I have walked with through the spiritual exercises, I am a sympathetic listener on all levels of human life. I am a personal and professional coach. I am a friend. In all these relationships consciousness of the presence of God is explicit, or just a smidgeon below the surface. Diversification of relationships is a continuing process of discernment.

A further thought has been helpful in reflecting about diversification of relationships. Culturally there is strong pressure to privatize religion. Business is here and religion is over there. So, in the board room, religion and spirituality would have very little, or no, place. With my presence and participation at staff meetings, business and belief are more integrated. There are boundaries worth breaking down if we define ourselves as a Catholic, Jesuit University.

Again another reflection of the positive aspect of my relationship on campus in a diversified way with those who have done the spiritual exercises, is that in our contemporary business world there is easily the feeling among employees that nobody really knows me here. The atmosphere of corporations and universities is easily one of anonymity. With the numbers of people I have walked with I enjoy an immediate and joyful human and even deep relationship in whatever circumstance I engage with them. We have become companions in a common endeavor.

DEVELOPING PROGRAMS

As the number of administrators and trustees doing the exercises began to increase - now at 47 - I grew in awareness of the significance of forming a community of those who have done the exercises. The Ignatian exercises were meant as an individual experience, an experience for the person to become as humanly conscious as possible of how God is present and of how they are present to God at this moment in his/her life. What is the communal message here? How does a community take shape out of this common experience? Again the experience of the early Jesuits is helpful. The founding Jesuits stayed together, they discerned out of their common spiritual experience, they founded the Society of Jesus.

As the importance of the communal aspect grew on me, I created a program to cultivate that: regular seminar luncheons for those who have done the exercises on prayerful/reflective discussions of the gospels. The lunches are funded by the President. The purpose of this seminar is to continue prayerful reflection on the gospels, but also in doing it communally to forge a community of administrators, faculty, staff, by hearing one another pray and reflect on their belief. As the first Jesuits stayed together and founded the Society of Jesus, so – I have joked – those of us at Fairfield University who have done the spiritual exercises, perhaps could found a contemporary religious order. This is not going to happen. But the example of what the first Jesuits created out of their common spiritual experience could be an inspiration and encouragement for us to consider what we could create communally in enunciating and living out the meaning of Fairfield University in the contemporary world. And this would be much larger and have far greater power than what we could do individually.

Discernment will continue at Fairfield University about diverse possibilities of integrating Ignatian Spirituality with all various aspects of university life.

#Ignatian Spiritual Exercises #Fairfield University #Thomas J. Fitzpatrick S.J.

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hoseokslefteyebrow · 4 years

Text

The Baby Project || M.YG || 23

Pairing : Min Yoongi X Reader

Genre : Angst, Fluff

Summary : What happens when you and Yoongi are supposed to take care of a baby for a month?

Wordcount: 0.6k

The Baby Project Masterlist | Next

Taglist :

@joyful-jimin @kisskissshutmydoor @nanie5 @jayhope88 @peachymochimochi

The apartment is silent as you and Yoongi were packing your own stuff and Jaehyuk's.

Today was the day that everyone would go their own ways, Jaehyuk would be send back to the adoption centre and you and Yoongi were going to your own home's. Altough you missed your family, you will miss this tiny apartment.

" Do I really have to go?" Jaehyuk asked quietly after a moment.

Both you and Yoongi turned to look at him, all three of you sharing the same sad expression.

" I'm afriad we'll have to Hyukie." Yoongi said, crouching down to his height and cupping his cheeks.

Jaehyuk released a few tears.

" But I don't want to go back." He muttered as he started crying.

You looked at him with an even sadder expression than you had before, tears brimming in the corner of your eyes.

" We don't want you to leave either Hyukie, but we're just college students. We can't properly take care of you." You said sadly, a stray tear leaving your eye.

Yoongi gathered you, Jaehyuk and himself in a bear hug, also sniffing.

Neither of you had expected becoming this close with the children you'd be taking care of.

After a few minutes of just sticking together, the sound of the speaker in the hallway ruined your cute moment.

' Attention please, will every student of Seoul University report to the reception with their assignment please? Thank you.'

It sounded over the speakers.

You all pulled apart from the hug.

" Well, this is it. I'll just-" You halted your sentence to swallow the lump in your throat.

" I'll just get your stuff Hyukie." You finished in a wishper as you walked off.

Yoongi watched you go with a pained expression before turning back to Jaehyuk, wishpering something in his ear and handing him something.

" ...... Promise?"

Jaehyuk nodded in response.

7 months later.

Yoongi huffed at he looked at the paperwork on his desk.

He's only started his training to take over his father's company, but he already felt drained, and wasn't sure if he even wanted to continue this job.

" Mr. Min? Your girlfriend is here. Shall I let her trough or are you currently busy?" His assistant's voice rang over the intercon on his desk.

Yoongi rubbed his face in frustration before letring out a sigh in annoyance.

" Let her trough." He told her in irritation.

A few moments later the door to his office opened and you walked trough with a plastic bag.

" Hey babe. How are you? You sounded irritated over the microphone thing on your assistant's desk." You greeted Yoongi as you walked in.

" I'm always irritated with that good for nothing assistant. Honestly, how many times am I going to have to tell her that you have the permission to walk in whenever except when I'm in some stupid meeting?" He complained as you pulled out take out from Mackey D's.

" I don't know. Maybe she didn't know that you weren't in a meeting?" You wondered out loud.

" That's the thing, she's supposed to know my damn schedule. That's what she's my assistant for. She's literally getring paid to do my dirty work." Yoongi complained.

" Okay, I suppose that's true. But did you call me just to complain about your assistant?" You asked Yoongi with a smile as you handed him his burger.

Yoongi shook his head while taking the burger from you.

" First, thanks for the food. And I called you because I want our kids back. My question is, do you want the same? Because I'm not doing this without you."

[ A/N: Someone please tell me why my stories with a prologue have no epilogue and why my stories with epilogue have no prologue.]

#bts #bts x reader #idkeitherman #min yoongi #bts housemates au #min yoongi x reader #bts fluff #bts angst

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kuratoki · 4 years

Text

Changes 06

Ooof finally! All the major characters have been introduced! Now we can get to the real fun :3

Do you agree that things change in time? Well four years abroad would tell wouldn’t it?

Pairing: Reader x Jeno ft. NCT

Words: 4163

Warning: Mild swearing

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5

Jeno leaned against his locker as he let out a big yawn while he waited for Jaemin. One of the instructors caught him before he left class and asked if he could talk to him so Jaemin had gone to fine Hana.

Turns out someone was under performing in class and he wanted Jeno to help that person catch up through private lessons once a week. He was surprised to say the least when he found out who it was and wondered if it was some set up since this person was supposed to be one of the top students. On top of that, he was reminded that today was the final day to choose partners for the semester project or else one would be chosen for you at the time.

He was knocked out of his thoughts when he heard someone calling his name and turned around to see you literally running towards him. It had been a few weeks since he joined you and Jisung for the early morning practice and saw first hand how you and Jisung worked as a unit, realizing Hana wasn’t bluffing when she said that you and Jisung had a lot of chemistry. He wasn’t sure if Jisung was intentionally or unintentionally flirting with you as you went over certain sections of the dance but the way you blushed at a few of his comments made him wary of his friends true intentions towards you.

Did he like it? Not really. Though Jisung was one of his best friends, there was a certain level of affection that Jisung only reserved for you and you only. Could Jeno do anything about it? Not yet. Not until he knew your feelings for sure. Not until he figured what he wanted out.

“What’s up?” he asked as you approached him, clearly out of breath. He held back his chuckle when you reached around him to grab his water bottle from his bag to chug down it’s contents before putting it back nicely.

“Please tell me you don’t have a partner yet for third period.” you said after taking a big breath, ”I totally forgot, Hana and Jisung betrayed me last night and partnered up behind my back.”

Jeno raised his eyebrows, so Jisung had actually done it. When the two of them talked about the project, Jisung expressed that he wanted to partner up with you since you practiced together often anyways. Jeno had told him that Yeeun wanted to partner with him but he had considered asking you as well since he and Hana had partnered the previous year. Jisung said he’d think about it and Jeno guessed this was his answer. Little did he know, Jisung had no intention of partnering with you and only waited for the last minute to tell you.

“I don’t have a partner yet. I was gonna ask you at lunch today so I guess it’s perfect timing.” Jeno said, moving a piece of your hair behind your hair as if he’d done it all the time.

This was his first time.

“Where’s Jisung?” he asked, clearing his throat as you both blushed from his action.

“Uhh...He went to nap in one of the practice rooms since it’s a study period. I’m actually rushing to the library right now. Jaehyun said that I can nap instead of work books if I beat him there.” you explained, “And thank youuuuuu. Hyuk asked me earlier and I said I already asked you.”

“So you were planning on asking me already?” Jeno asked with a smirk and you rolled your eyes, “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

“Cause told everyone that she’s partnering up with you for the project.” you shot, looking down at your watch and frowned “That’s why I checked first. But I have to go. Jisung and I gamed all night and I really need this nap. I’ll see you later.”

And just as fast as you came, you were gone. Jeno grinned to himself and told himself that he’d have to buy Jisung lunch sometime.

“Where’s Y/N going in such a rush?” Jaemin asked, appearing by Jeno’s side.

“Library. She said something about meeting with Jaehyun.” Jeno said as the two started towards the library where their class was supposed to meet, “I would’ve said to wait but she was running.”

“So she did take my advice.” Jaemin said smiling, “She said that she was having issues settling back so I told her to talk to Jaehyun since he spent four years in America.” he explained when he saw the confused look on Jenos face.

“She’s having issues settling back?” Jeno asked, scrunching his nose while pushing up the bridge of his glasses, “How did you know?”

“I asked.” Jaemin said, turning to look at Jeno with a straight face, “She seemed uncomfortable about something I did what any friend would, I checked in. I am technically her guide afterall.”

“Though like half the NCT members adopted her as their own.” Jeno said thinking about how easy his friends from the club integrated themselves around you so easily.

Jaehyun was your teaching assistant for Music Theory while Yuta treated you like the little sister he wished he had. The other members would greet you from time to time and often joined you and whoever was practicing in the morning. They liked the dedication and drive you brought when you were focussed, it was something they admired.

“Doyoung brought Y/N a chocolate bar last week. He hasn’t treated us out since nationals last year." he added.

“I mean, your body also doesn’t tell you that you aren’t pregnant once a month with severe pain so I mean…” Jaemin said looking to the side with a shrug, “Are you happy though? She’s back, things are okay?”

“I guess? She’s...different. Physically and mentally. There are things about her that haven’t changed.” Jeno started, ‘Like her ability to always see the good in things instead of the negative.’ he thought to himself.

“But there’s this whole side of her that I’ve seen when she’s with Jisung and Hana which is like woah...who are you. You aren’t the same girl I knew all those years ago.” he said with a sigh, “Like back then, it was the three of us and we were the only friends she had.”

“You aren’t the same Jeno either. You both spent most of your lives together and spent your transition from teenagers to young adults apart. She left and had to adapt to a different place, language and system while we were here. There are going to be things you don’t know about each other but isn’t that the best part?” Jaemin asked, “And from what Hana’s said, Y/N’s in the same boat except she’s trying to adapt back to life home too. Get to know her again and if it’s meant to be, you’ll know.”

“When did you get so philosophical?” Jeno asked with a pointed eyebrow and Jaemin shrugged, holding up the hand that had a ring on his middle finger.

“When I got a girlfriend and decided that I was going to use my club ring as a promise ring.” he answered and eyed the same ring on Jenos middle finger, “What about you? You know what they say, the person you give your club ring to is the person you’ll be with for the rest of your life.”

“And how sweet of you to know that Hana is already the one for you.” Jeno fake gagged, “I don’t believe in that stuff. If I give my ring to anyone, it’ll be on my terms and reasons.”

“Hey, we both know that if Y/N didn’t leave and everything went according to your little plan, you’d be thinking the same thing.” Jaemin stated with a pointed look, “And don’t tell me I’m wrong.”

“You aren’t. Cause you’re right.” Jeno admitted as they entered the library, Jaemin shoving his shoulder playfully.

“There’s two seats over there.” Jaemin pointed to a table where Yeeun and her friend were waving them over, “Jeno?”

Jaemin looked over at his friend who seemed to be focused intently on something else in the room and by following his gaze, his eyes landed on you and Yukhei sitting at a table towards the back and from the look on your face, having an intense conversation.

The two of you seemed to notice their presence since you motioned towards the door and Yukhei paled the moment his eyes met Jeno’s. Quickly getting up, Yukhei seemed to say one more thing to you with a slight glare which you only challenged with your own before he left and went back to his own table.

“What was that about?” Jaemin asked when you looked up at them and waved with a tired smile.

“Apparently Jeno’s been giving him a hard time and wanted me to tell him to lay off.” you said with a shrug unsure what he meant, “So I guess lay off?”

“He’s late two out of three times a week for practice and he didn’t even show up yesterday.” Jeno said rolling his eyes, “If he wants me to lay off then he should actually start showing that he wants to be part of the team. Taeyongs even on the fence about letting him participate at next weeks performance.”

“What else did he say?” Jaemin asked after boys sat down, you in between the two, “You both looked annoyed with each other.”

“Cause we were.” you scoffed and looked at Jeno, “He told me that you have no right to be mad at him when you don’t even know the full story. I told him he was lucky I didn’t tell you since I feared for his safety.”

“There’s a full story?” Jaemin and Jeno asked looking at each other then back at you curiously.

“One that you guys will never know.” you said with a nod before going back to the workbook that Jaehyun had given you. Unfortunately, someone tripped you in the hallways and Jaehyun beat you to the library, “What are you guys doing here anyways?”

“Research project.” Jeno answered, still wondering about the full story. The full story to what?, “I assume Jae beat you?”

“Someone tripped me in the hallway and I hit my knee against a wall so I ended up limping here.’ you said with a sad sigh, your lips in a small pout, “I was looking forward to my nap.”

“This is why you don’t stay up playing video games on a school night.” Jaemin nagged, “I’ve told you this.”

“And will she ever listen? Probably not.” Jeno concluded ruffling your hair, making you grumble and attempted to swat his hands away, unaware of the eyes watching your table.

A few minutes later, Jisung walked through the library doors and sat down across from you, taking the sweater you had on the table to use as a pillow.

“I assume Jae found you?” you asked as Jaemin poked Jisung, who laid motionless, with a pen, “Are you even alive?”

“Did you see me in first period? I’m pretty sure our instructor thought I was drunk.” Jisung mumbled, “Jae found me and then told me to come here. How can I say no to our lovely T.A?”

“You don’t.” you stated with a straight face before you heard Jisung’s soft snoring. With three packs of colored sticky notes and workbook forgotten, you, Jeno and Jaemin proceeded to play a game of how many sticky notes can you stick on Jisung before he woke up.

A few minutes later, Hana walked through the doors squealing as she made a beeline towards you.

“Y/N, Y/N! You won’t believe who I just saw in the hallways.” she said sitting on Jaemins lap, “And who the heck is that?” she asked, pointing at the person covered in sticky notes.

The game ended in a three way tie since Jisung didn’t wake up and now there was a timer to see how long it took for him to wake up and cause chaos.

“Hana, this is a library. Shut up.” Jisung said muffled from his faced down position, “What the heck is going on here?” he asked when he realized that he was covered in paper and shot a glare towards you, Jeno and Jaemin who all had innocent looks on your faces.

“What the fuck guys!” he whined when he realized what happened and you, Jeno, Jaemin along with Hana burst into a fit of giggles.

“Fifteen minutes and twenty three seconds. Not bad.” you said hitting the stop button on your phone, “This is what you get for passing out.”

“And why you don’t play video games on a school night.” Hana nagged and you burst out in laughter since Jaemin had pretty much said the same thing to you earlier.

“Like boyfriend, like girlfriend I guess.” Jeno said with a nudge as Jisung continued to glare at the group in front of him..

“Anyways, who did you see Hana?” you asked just as the door opened again and Jaehyun along with three others walked in and everyone turned to look.

“No way.” you whispered before you got up quickly followed by Hana leaving the three boys in confusion.

One of the guys saw you and grinned as he made his way towards you followed by the others.

“I didn’t know the school took in aliens and dolphins.” you said once you were face to face.

Shocked gasps were heard from the tables paying attention, including Jaehyun and Yeeun.

“Y/N!” Jaehyun said shocked but the person looked at Jaehyun with a smile, letting him know it was okay.

“Considering they accept ugly ducklings, I would assume they’d make an acception.” he shot back with a smirk.

“Can you two not do this now..” One of the other guys said massaging his temples.

“It confuses people.” the last one said.

“At least I didn’t leave before the program was over to join some stupid ballet.” you shot back.

“You would’ve had the same opportunity had you not fucked up your knee.” he said with a grin as you glared.

“Y/N…” Jaehyun warned again but the last person that spoke held his arm, telling his friend not to worry.

“At least I completed the program.” you stated and winced when you felt a flick to your forehead.

“That was lame. Where are those strong comebacks of yours?” the person reprimanded..

“I didn’t sleep last night so they’re currently back in Europe.” you said with a sigh before smiling again and you along with Hana enveloped the two boys in a group hug and you relished in that feeling of familiarity.

“Were you playing video games again?” one of them asked causing Hana to burst into giggles and you let out another sigh.

Around the room, people questioned so many things. A lot of them knew who two of them were, one was a student of the school while the other was someone who was well known to those who were in the ballet community.

Jaemin and Jeno looked at Jisung for answers while the boy; still covered in sticky notes, shrugged, not knowing who this mystery person was either. It was obvious that these were the people Hana was excited to see since the four of you were walking over, immersed in an amusing conversation.

Yeeun gaped as you moved past her, your arms linked with the newcomers, talking in what seemed to be Chinese.

‘How does she know them?” she heard her friend whisper to the table as their eyes followed the groups movement as they approached the table with the three boys.

“When did WinWin get back?” Jisung asked as he noticed the group walking towards them,” I thought he was supposed to return next semester.”

“Y/N said that he finished whatever needed to be done back home and was coming back early.” Jeno said with no hesitation, “I helped Y/N clean her house to prepare for his return.”

“Ah, so that’s what you were doing when you said you were too busy to work on our routine. Got it.” Jaemin said with a nod and knowing smile before looking up with a friendly smile, “Welcome back WinWin.”

“Hey guys.” WinWin said waving as the others greeted him, “It’s nice to see you all again.”

“Are you back back?” Jaemin asked and WinWin nodded.

“I brought back these two,” he motioned to the two others with him, “This is Huang Renjun-”

“The alien.” you coughed, making said boy pinch your side while WinWin rolled his eyes.

“And Zhong Chen Le.” WinWin said motioning to the other boy.

“Dolphin.” you coughed again, making the other boy hit your arm.

“I will end you.” he said with a glare.

“Try me piano boy.” you challenged as WinWin and Hana sighed.

“This is normal.” Hana said when she noticed the confused looks from everyone, “Y/N and Renjun went to the same academy in Europe. Chenle and I visited when WinWin and I were there and the five of us hung out and I’ve kept in touch with them since then. What were your nicknames? China Prince and Swan Princess?”

“More like ugly duckling and China Klutz.” Chenle snorted, making the people at the table laugh as two hands smacked him on the back of the head.

“Wait…” Jaemin said, making everyone look at him, “Someone with the alias China Prince was said to be one of the youngest dancers with the Chinese Ballet Association”

“That’s me.” Renjun said with a wave, “I auditioned and left Europe my third year before completing the program. Before that, Y/N and I were in all the same classes.”

“He was the partner that didn’t drop me.” you added looking at Renjun, “Then I refused to partner with anyone else after he left. I also introduced him to his current-”

“Dance partner.” Renjun interrupted making you give him a what the fuck look and he gave you that smile that said to shut the fuck up and he’d explain later.

“Right…” you said suspiciously glancing at your friend, “Dance partner…Also Ji, you’ve already talked to Chenle. He’s the one that we play games with almost every night.”

“You’re SirSqueak?” Jisung asked, looking at Chenle and the boy gave up the okay signal with his hands, “Dude, we totally needed you last night….” he started rambling to Chenle about last night's game while everyone else watched in amusement.

“So he is aware he’s covered sticky notes right?” Jaehyun asked Jeno and the boy nodded, “K, just checking.” he said before turning his attention to you and Renjun, “So the two of you went to the same ballet academy?”

“Yep.” you said as Renjun nodded once everyone else was seated,

“We had the same practice schedules and academic classes our first year so we became friends pretty fast.” Renjun said leaning on the table with his arms crossed, “Best study partner I had.”

“Only study partner I could tolerate.” you snorted, “Anyways, are you two transferring?” you asked once Chenle and Jisung finished talking about their games.

“We officially start tomorrow.” Chenle answered, “Are you guys free to catch up over lunch today?”

Words of agreement and nods flooded the table while Jaehyun shook his head.

“I’m kidnapping Y/N for lunch today.” he said as you nodded.

“Awe, come on Jae. You’ve literally spent every lunch with Y/N for the last week. Give us our friend back.” Jaemin whined as Jaehyun shook his head.

“Why don’t we have dinner once you guys are done with club activities today?” you suggested with an apologetic look, “I have something to do till about five but we could go after.”

“That sounds like a good idea actually.” WinWin said, “I checked the fridge, all I see are baked goods so I guess we’ll have to go grocery shopping tomorrow. We can invite some of the club members.”

“I’m in for dinner.” Renjun said as the rest agreed,

“I won’t be at club today.” Jaehyun said, “I have something to work on.”

“Me neither. One of our instructors asked me to help someone with the class routine today for a bit.” Jeno said and you turned to look at him.

Around the same time, Yeeun and her friends walked to the table with grins on their faces.

“Can we help you?” Hana asked, looking at the girls.

“R-Renjun, you played the Price in Swan Lake at the O2 theatre in London two years ago right?” her friend asked nervously as Renjun nodded with a charming smile that made her insides melt, “I wanted to know that I’m a huge fan. Congratulations on making it into the Chinese Ballet Association. It’s an honor to be a student with you. I hope that I’ll be able to learn from someone as talented as you one day. If you have any questions, I’d be happy to help you.”

“Uh...thank you.” Renjun said awkwardly, not used to the praise, “I actually transferred here so I could dance with a friend again so I’m unsure if I’ll be helping any classes out or anything. But I was already set up with a guide so I think things should be fine.”

You looked at Chenle from across the table as the two of you fought to hold in your giggles and you felt Renjun nudge you from the side which made it even harder to hold it in.

“Oh well...really if theres anything.” the girl said again as Renjun nodded and you put your head down, causing Jeno to wonder what was wrong with you but before he could ask, Yeeun asked him a question that stopped your laughter all together.

“Are you still okay with meeting after class today Jeno?” she asked as you gave him a side glance and his eyes met yours before he gave Yeeun a quick reply.

“Be in the practice room thirty minutes after classes and we’ll run through the routine.” he said with a curt nod when he noticed Renjun whispering something in your ear that made your eyes wide, “We’ll see how much help you’ll need from there.”

“We can always go straight from English.” Yeeun suggested looking for your reaction, though much to your dismay, you were currently distracted, talking to Renjun. “Oh by the way, do you have a partner for the project yet? The deadlines today.” she reminded.

“I have things I have to take care of before then.” he answered, his attention focused on you and not her. “And yea, I do.” he said looking to you in which you looked up from your conversation with Renjun to nod and he was thankful you were still paying attention to the conversation.

“Oh...I uh guess that’s great.” Yeeun said with a tight smile as the bell rang, “I’ll see you after school.” she said before leaving the library with a grin remembering that it’d be just the two of them in the dance studio.

“You and Yeeun?” Jaemin asked the question on everyones mind, especially yours though you did a good job at hiding it.

“She’s apparently failing third period and the instructor asked me to give her a few pointers. So yea, I won’t be going to club today unfortunately.” Jeno said with a sigh and touched your wrist to get your attention when he noticed you’d gone quiet, “Are you okay?” he asked, making you raise your eyebrows at him.

“Of course I am.” you said quickly and turned to Jaehyun, somehow, you felt uneasy at the mention of Yeeun spending time with Jeno after school. You knew you had no reason to since the two of you were even a thing but Yeeun reminded you of someone and you couldn’t shake off the feeling of uneasiness so you did what you did best. You ran.

“We should get going though. Can we take Renjun with us? I’d really like his feedback on what we’ve done so far.” you said, making Renjun and Jaehyun give you weird looks but nodded anyways.

“Great. Let’s go.” you said and grabbed Renjun’s hand where he interlocked your fingers through habit, catching the attention of three boys at the table, “See you guys after school."

Jaehyun was quick to follow, leaving everyone else in their wake confused.

Jeno looked at the spot where you disappeared from, the image of your fingers interlaced with Renjuns transfixed in his mind. The moment Yeeun mentioned meeting up with him after school, Renjun had pulled you into a conversation which he looked like he couldn’t wait to have with you. The confused look on your face and the excited look on his made Jeno wary. Renjun’s presence as a whole made him wary.

Just who was this guy and was he going to be a threat?

#nct imagine #nct #nct dream imagine #nct dream #lee jeno #jeno #jisung #jaemin #kpop #kpop scenario #kpop imagine #nct scenario #nct fiction #nct dream fiction #nct dream scenario #jeno imagine #jeno fiction #jeno scenario

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tc-obsessed · 4 years

Text

july tc challenge

this blog is most likely just for me to talk about him because i really can’t talk about this with nobody else, so i am actually doing all the question at once cause I don’t have that much time to do it once a day

this challenge is made by @baeby-tc

1. describe your tc’s physical appearance.

He is taller tan me, has a curly hair he lets it grow to his ears and a little long so he can handle it, I have always seen him with it thrown to the back, he has brown hair and brown eyes, he is a bit full but I think it makes him cute

2. what was the first thing you’ve ever said to your tc?

He said my name to know if I was in the class and I think I said like, “That’s me” and he proceed to smile like always.

3. is your tc single or taken? Or are you unsure? And are you single or taken?

So far as I know he is single, we met after I broke up with a toxic ex, and now I actually am in a relationship, which its kind of hard because its not a serious one and he also knows I am in love with H.

4. is your tc more of the athletic type, the nerdy type or the artsy type?

Super duper artsy, he is my teacher at an art college, and also super nerdy he is like such a geek for like games and stuff I really don’t have a clue.

5. if you and your tc were in high school together, do you think you’d be friends?

Not really, I don’t think he would be able to handle or want to even be near me, I was really depressed and was super mean, and he is an easy going guy who doesn’t barge in somebody else’s problems, also he is super into cute girls and I am totally the opposite

6. name one song that reminds you of your tc and explain why that song reminds you of them.

The song is one that I love, and H kind of didn’t like much but since we heard it together he always pops into my head when I listen to it, its Graduation by Hyukoh. I think its one the moment I appreciate of him cause we were just naming random songs we liked and he literally grabbed his computer and started showing his songs as I said which ones I liked, we started with like two more classmates then just the two of us, until he left.

7. is your tc fashionable or are they more of the simple type? what is one outfit you’d love to see them wear?

Fuck no, like he is such a bad dresser, I am so interested in fashion and he always wears this ugly orange jacket, I swear to god I would kill to see him in something more for his age, like I think it’s really nice how he likes but he has such a bad style, I think if we ever come to be together I would go out to shop for him and try to find other color that its definitely NOT orange.

8. would you be willing to become a teacher and teach your tc’s subject if it meant you two could be together?

Not really like a teacher, but I would be so down to be his assistant, though he already has one.

9. does your tc drink or smoke?

No, I have seen photos of him drinking but now he always avoids it. And he doesn’t like the smell of cigarettes.

10. name one item that is always on your tc’s desk.

It used to be like a mug with coffee or a coke, now its just water. And I like to think it was because of me, but that’s an story I’ll leave for another update.

11. has your tc ever done anything that has either thrown you off, annoyed you, angered you or bothered you in any way? if so, what did they do?

Its unfair cause he is really nice, he has never said or done anything, I just get plain angry or sad when I cant see him, and that isn’t his fault.

12. does your tc have any past jobs that you know of, before becoming a teacher?

None that I know of.

13. does your tc have kids or siblings? if so, how many?

I am sure he has a few brothes.

14. are you taking your tc’s class next year?

Unfortunately I cant, he only teaches first and second years, and I am already a third year, if I could I totally would do it.

15. has your tc ever met your parents? if you were there, what was the meeting like?

Thank god no.

16. has your tc ever given you detention? if so, what was it like?

Nope, we don’t have it at college.

17. has your tc ever failed you? if so, how did you react? if not, how would you react?

No, and I think I would just accept it, like he is a teacher for a reason, if he thinks I didn’t understand and I need another year learning, so be it.

18. what are your tc’s hobbies/interests? are they similar to yours?

He is into like a really nerdy rp podcat/talk show? I am so into tv shows, he draws characters form the rp, and I just focus on drawing homework and ocs. So not really, but we both enjoyed game of thrones.

19. have you ever spoken on the phone with your tc? what did you talk about?

I have texted him before, never called, and mostly is for my new animated project or things for the student council, once or twice we talked about something not related to college, but that’s also a thing I plan on explain into detail later.

20. if you had your tc’s class during quarantine, what were your zoom calls like? if not, have you spoken to your tc since quarantine?

No, and I don’t know if its good or bad, because I definitely want to see him, but its not like its private so I guess I would be really sad for not having his attention. And yes, we have talked, I asked him for advices in my new proyect, he is really sharp and has a good, and then he responded two of my ig stories, so I am happy he actually talked to me first.

21. if you had the chance to go anywhere in the world with your tc, where would you go? what would you do?

So, I know he has gone to japan a few times, and I would actually enjoy to go with him there, like, imagine him saying his experiences and helping me with things he had to learn.

22. does your tc have any nicknames for you?

Sadly no, he is really professional, so if he ever gave me a nickname it would be kinda wrong, tho he calls me by my name when he is talking about work and by my nick name (everybody at my uni calls me by that), when we ran into each other at the u. sometimes he switches it up.

23. have you ever cried in front of your tc? why? how did they react?

I been close to it, but he actually passed by and I turned around so he wouldn’t see me.

24. have you ever walked/drove to/from school with your tc?

No, sadly. I am always early and he is always late. But we have bumped into each other on the stairs.

25. do you know which teachers your tc is friends with at school? if so, do you like those teachers?

Yes, I mean most of them know each other, and they are all so friendly.

26. why does your tc’s voice sound like?

Hard to describe, he has like a confident lowish voice.

27. do you like your tc as a teacher? are they a good teacher?

He super professional and like strict, and soo picky, like he can give you so many advices and at the same time try to make room fot you to think about it and have a solution yourself, he is great.

28. does your tc prefer books, shows or movies?

Shows I think, he likes how a character grows from his past mistakes, but he likes reading too.

29. is your tc stern or easy going, in class?

Kinda both, like he is really nice and easygoing until he needs to be stern.

30. how would you describe you and your tc’s relationship?

Weird, like we are friendly, but he has always this way to push me away, but at the same time we always makes things that caught my attention or he talks to me like nothing.

31. do you address your tc by their first or last name?

Yes, its actually normal, everybody calls him by his name or a nickname, i personally call him his name with a rhyme

#tc crush #tcc #tc #tc blog #tc community #tc male #teacher crush #male teacher crush #teacher x student #teacher crush community #teacher crush challenge #student x teacher #teacher crush update #tc udpate

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inspired-by-the-music · 5 years

Text

Kai

requests are encouraged! please read my guidelines before submitting your request

Genre: university!au, features Sehun and Chanyeol as the reader’s longtime friends & SHINee’s Taemin as Jongin’s best friend (bc i never stop being taemin trash lol). not really fluff or angst, but happy endings abound!

Word Count: 3,140

Note: this is an idea i’ve been developing for a while. it ended up being pretty long because it’s about one of my favorite themes: inaccurate reputations.this is an idea i explored in depth in my bts social media Any Other Name, which is referenced as a novel in this story. please enjoy!

As far as you could tell from your first month at your new university, there was only one rule: avoid the boy named Kai. Your roommate, a girl named Soo-ah, introduced you to an anonymous girls-only blog that meticulously detailed dramatic confrontations between other students. In short, it was a gossip website; however, instead of discussing the lives of celebrities, it was devoted entirely to exposing students. And the general consensus from the website and Soo-ah was that Kai was nothing short of a monster.

“Apparently, he likes to befriend girls before breaking their hearts,” Soo-ah told you, her eyes burning with rage.

“But broken hearts are kind of a part of dating,” you observed quietly. It seemed wrong to hate some guy you never met, regardless of how many anonymous people swore they were moved to tears by his behavior.

“Didn’t you read any of that stuff I told you?” Soo-ah held her phone out to you once more. “He only likes for girls like us to stroke his ego, then he’ll drop up like we’re worthless.”

“But how do you know? We don’t even know who any of these people are—” You set her phone down on the end of your bed when she refused to accept it. “And they don’t include his last name or even a picture, so how would we even know if we saw him?”

“You would know Kai if you saw him,” she answered vaguely. Eyeing you suspiciously, she snatched her phone off of your blanket. “And why are you so determined to believe he’s such a good guy? Do you know him or something? Has he already gotten to you?”

A furious blush rose to your cheeks at her accusation, and you shied against the wall at your back. “No, I don’t know him, and I’m not determined to believe anything about anybody. Would you feel better if I was afraid of every boy in the school named Kai?”

“Honestly?” Soo-ah glared, “Yeah.” And when your stare clearly indicated that you were uncomfortable, she smiled and added, “You know— just so you’re safe.”

. . .

When you recapped the conversation to Sehun the next day over lunch, he stared at you blankly. “You mean to tell me that the girls have a whole website where they post what they really think about guys?”

Rolling your eyes, you ripped a used page out of your notebook and threw it at him. “Focus, Sehun.”

“I am focused.” Sehun hurled the paper at your face, but you ducked. “We’ll talk about your weird roommate after you tell me if my name is anywhere on that blog.”

“I don’t know, I didn’t look for you.” You picked the balled paper off of the ground as you answered. “Besides, to be on there, I think you have to be some kind of affront to women.”

“Oh,” Sehun nodded. “Well, I’m a total gentleman.” Satisfied with your mocking laugh, Sehun said, “Anyway, are you sure that your roommate doesn’t have some kind of grudge against this Kai dude— or whatever his name is?”

You shrugged, “I have no idea— I literally just met her a week ago when I moved in.”

Sehun shook his head at you. “Seriously, Y/N, that girl could be a psychopath for all you know. I told you to just move in with me and Chanyeol—”

“Excuse me, I only finally escaped you two when you went off to college.” You teased, biting your cheek to avoid laughing. “You know, I didn’t even want to transfer here, but the scholarship—”

Sehun kicked you under the table. “Cut it out, punk. Chanyeol’s heart would break if he heard you.” He scolded as if he weren’t pouting himself.

“Fine, fine. Anyway, I didn’t tell you everything so you could analyze Soo-ah or convince me to move in. Is any of that stuff about Kai true?”

As he shrugged, Sehun wrinkled his eyebrows. “How would I know? I don’t know anyone named Kai.” Then, more gently, he advised, “But Y/N, maybe don’t take a risk on someone with a bad reputation, ya know?”

Your tongue clicked in frustration. “No— I don’t know, actually. I mean, what if I listened to everyone in high who said you were a bully because of your resting bitch face—”

“Don’t play with me, Y/N, I know you had a crush on me and my mean eyebrows—”

Groaning, you complained, “Okay, first of all, literally nothing is sacred with Chanyeol.” Once Sehun finished laughing, you continued, “Second of all, that was back when I was a freshman and you actually seemed cool.”

“All these excuses.” Sehun smirked as he leaned across the table to ruffle your hair. Leaning back, he abandoned his jokes, and said, “Seriously, though, don’t be too naive. I know we think Soo-ah is a weirdo, but maybe she has some history with that guy, and she’s trying to protect you.”

Again, you refused to accept Sehun’s opinion that you should just be cautious. “But she didn’t even tell me who he is. And the blog calls him Kai— like some nickname.”

“Or a codename,” Sehun suggested. “Look, I’ve been to a lot of parties—”

“Is this really the time to brag about your social life?”

“ — Shut up! Anyway, I know almost everyone here, and nobody in my grade is named Kai. So maybe it’s just like a fake name everyone on the blog knows someone as?”

Your brow furrowed as you tried to rub the headache out of your temples. “But why warn me if nobody is going to tell me who to fear? The more I think about it, the more I think this is just some clever way for people to gossip.”

“Yeah? Well, welcome to college.” Realizing how troubled you were, Sehun recommended, “Don’t pry if you think it’s just girls being catty. What’s the point of going through the effort of finding out who the hell Kai is if they’re just venting?”

“Because it’s not fair for him to have a bad reputation if he didn’t do anything wrong.” You were about to begin your rant anew when your phone buzzed, signalling an incoming text. “Sorry, I gotta meet someone in the library. Group projects are so inconvenient.

“Yeah, don’t lie to me about meeting other guys, Y/N, it confuses me about the true nature of your feelings.” It would have been impossible to know that Sehun was joking if you lacked the years of experience in noting the slight upward twitch of his lips. “You’re coming to the party tonight, right?”

You nodded, “Yeah, sure. I have nothing else to do.”

“Obviously.” Sehun laughed when you shoved his shoulder. “Go ahead and invite your boyfriend so Chanyeol and I can run him off.”

. . .

Jongin was the only person who made a good impression that first month of classes— well, aside from his friend Taemin. As far as you could tell, the had to be the most popular guys on campus, judging by the whispers and stares that followed them everywhere. What were the odds, you wondered, that two seemingly perfect people would be inseparable best friends?

It was surprising to find him waiting for you alone in the library, since it was your first time seeing him without Taemin.

“Hey.” Jongin greeted you with a warm smile, just as he had on the first day of class.

While people obviously initially admired him for his stunning appearance, Jongin’s personality was more worthy of appreciation. And you knew it was silly to be yet another girl whose heart raced for him, but you couldn’t help it.

You returned his smile as you sat. “Hey.”

“So,” he raised the assigned novel, “what did you think of the book?”

“Actually, that was, like, my thousandth time reading Any Other Name,” you admitted bashfully. “It was my favorite book in high school.”

Jongin’s jaw dropped. “No way! It’s my favorite book too!” His excited volume attracted several hisses from nearby students and the assistant librarian. While his cheeks turned scarlet, he flipped his book open and displayed the colorful annotations. “It’s a little embarrassing, but I did most of this before the book was even assigned for that contemporary literature class.”

Hours slipped away as you and Jongin discussed your favorite parts of the novel. By the time you finished the project, and took a few selfies, and made plans to watch Any Other Name’s film adaptation, the sun had set. A quick glance at your phone confirmed that you were running late for the party.

Sehun had only been joking about you inviting Jongin, but at this point you were confident that he enjoyed hanging out with you, and you weren’t ready for your heart to calm. “You know, I’m about to go to a party at my best friends’ place. You may know them— Sehun and Chanyeol?”

“Yeah,” Jongin nodded. “I know them.” He laughed as he rubbed at the back of his neck and admitted, “And I know their parties are a little wild.”

You dismissed his concerns by explaining, “They’ve been my best friends since high school, that’s the only reason I’m going.” You blushed as you realized that he was likely politely rejecting you. “Ah— actually, it’s okay if you don’t wanna go—”

“Wait, you’re inviting me to go with you?”

Had it not been obvious? Jongin smiled when you nodded. “Okay, Y/N, I’ll go, and I’ll look out for you.” And he took your hand in his and allowed you to lead him out of the library.

. . .

The party was a chaotic blur. Evidently, Sehun decided to invite everyone he knew, resulting in little space to move and booming volumes. While the environment prevented a continuation of your earlier conversation, it didn’t discourage Jongin from remaining at your side throughout the evening, acting as your date and protector from the boisterous guests.

Sehun nudged you as he passed you near the blaring stereo and teased, “I can’t believe you actually brought him.”

And Sehun wasn’t the only person suspended in disbelief. You would have to be blind to miss the stares, which you attributed to envy considering Jongin’s popularity. Until the following morning, after Jongin escorted you to your dorm, when Soo-ah shoved her phone into your hand again, you didn’t consider that Jongin’s reputation could be more sinister.

“I told you to stay away from him.’ Soo-ah reminded— as if you could ever forget— while you examined the pictures displayed on her phone. They depicted you and Jongin dancing at the party.

“This doesn’t make any sense— his name isn’t even Kai.”

Yet the caption clearly read: ‘Kai picks his newest prey. Don’t be naive!’ and linked to Jongin’s account, where he had posted the pictures of you from the library. So it was as Sehun suggested; Kai was an alias for Jongin.

It wasn’t that you trusted Soo-ah or distrusted Jongin— so why was there a sudden sharp ache in your chest? Why was your stomach suddenly in knots? You didn’t know him well enough to suffer a broken heart, so your discomfort had to be caused by the embarrassment of having your pictures spread among anonymous strangers.

All you knew for certain was that nothing could come from confiding your feelings in your roommate, so you returned her phone and resolved to remain silent.

. . .

You spent the weekend trying to interpret your feelings alone without much success. When Chanyeol collapsed into the desk next to you and stole a concerned glance, you finally realized how deeply confused and upset you were by the entire ordeal.

“Hey Y/N, what’s the matter?” To comfort you, Chanyeol dug a cereal bar out of his bag and tossed it onto your desk. “Something happen with that guy you brought to the party?”

And you should have known better than to recount the situation to Chanyeol in that ten minutes before class; Taemin sat in the back corner of the classroom, and anything he heard would be repeated to Jongin. However, at Chanyeol’s compassionate provocation, you explained everything.

Like Sehun, Chanyeol fixated on what you considered a minor detail. “You mean you’ve managed to find the only guy in the world who’s obsessed with your favorite book?”

“That’s what you picked up on?”

“It’s just— it sounds like you really like him. And it sounds like he really likes you. And you have the same interests. And it’s dumb that you’re letting some stupid gossip blog ruin everything.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t like him anymore.” You glanced over your shoulder to make sure Taemin wasn’t listening; and when you were satisfied that he was listening to music, you continued, “I’m just not sure I’m okay with people taking my picture and talking about me just because I hang out with some guy.”

“Well, Y/N,” Chanyeol studied your expression as he leaned back in his chair, “If you really like him and you don’t believe what your creepy roommate says about him, maybe just avoid that website.”

Before you could respond, the professor began his lecture.

Maybe Chanyeol was right. You could easily forget about the blog, since you only knew about it and read it when Soo-ah was forcing you to read it. But could you really ignore the real world scrutiny? Even as you took notes, you lost count of how many girls turned around to stare.

If this was how they were acting after a weekend of ignoring all of Jongin’s texts, how could you believe everything would go back to normal if you swore off involvement with him? And, perhaps more importantly, why should you live to please a bunch of strangers?

As an act of defiance when that girl in front of you glared at you once more, you yanked your phone out of your book bag to ask Jongin to meet you to lunch, and you didn’t try to hide your smile when he immediately replied.

After class, Chanyeol rubbed your arm on the way out. “Everything will be okay. And if your roommate doesn’t back off, you can always stay with me and Sehun.”

You only nodded before heading to the campus cafeteria. A few steps later, a delicate voice called your name.

“Y/N?” It was Taemin, approaching you with a gentle grin. “Um, no matter what anyone says, Jongin really likes you. Don’t tell him I told you, but he’s had a crush on you since the first day of school, and he had a lot of fun with you the other day. So maybe don’t believe everything you read online.”

“You mean—” Your voice dropped below a whisper as you were almost too nervous to ask, “You mean you know what everyone says about him?”

Taemin nodded before confessing, “Yeah, we know what everyone says about us. They’ve been talking forever. But please don’t believe it.”

As relieved as you were to learn that your instincts were right, you were more consumed by sympathy for Jongin and Taemin. Despite the growing guilt of ignoring Jongin because of unfair rumors, you smiled softly at Taemin. “Don’t worry. I don’t believe it.”

Bearing that in mind, an apology tumbled out of your mouth the moment you found Jongin waiting for you at a table by the window. He already bought both of your meals and set your food at the space opposite him.

“For what?” He smiled at you, evidently determined to believe that you hadn’t deliberately avoided him all weekend.

You sat down and began, “I’m sorry I heard rumors about you— I didn’t even know they were about you—”

Jongin took your hand in his to interrupt your rant. “Y/N, don’t worry about it. I know all about that Kai stuff. Honestly, when you were actually nice to me and invited me to that party, I guessed you just hadn’t heard anything.” A frown yanked at his lips as he concluded, “I knew it was just a matter of time before you heard that I’m apparently some kind of jerk and decided to distance yourself.”

You appeared to have forgotten how to speak until Jongin released your hand and stood to dismiss himself. “I didn’t believe them—” You blurted as you grabbed his hand and tugged him back toward the table. “I didn’t believe the rumors before I knew they were about you. Before I even liked you.”

He stilled and sank back into his seat. “Really?” He narrowed his eyes at you curiously.

“Really,” you repeated. “It was just an instinct. But if you don’t mind me asking, why do they call you Kai? And why are people so determined to talk about you?”

“They’ve just always talked about me.” Jongin shrugged; it must be a part of life he accepted long ago, but that acceptance didn’t lessen his frown. “I don’t know why they call me a womanizer; I’ve never even dated a girl. I remember when Taemin had his first girlfriend, the other girls were so mean to her; I didn’t want anyone to go through that because of me. I really hoped things would change when I got to college, but— well, I’ve been here for a full four years, and people still whisper behind my back.”

Then, rather stupidly, you asked, “You still don’t date?” as if all you could think of was becoming Jongin’s first girlfriend.

Thankfully, he chuckled and you could release the anxious breath you were holding. “Nope. Until quite recently, I didn’t attract anyone I really liked. Actually— until this week, I didn’t attract anyone who actually liked me for more than my face.”

In a feeble attempt to distract from your deepening blush and an earnest effort to console Jongin, you said, “Well— for everyone who chose to believe rumors rather than get to know you, it’s their loss. Your kindness is way more impressive than your face, and you’re beautiful so that’s really saying something.”

Jongin caught his bottom lip with his teeth to keep from smiling, but the corners of his lips curved upward anyway. “Thank you. And to answer your other question, I went by Kai in high school. The girl who runs the blog, Soo-ah, ran it in high school too, and I guess she hasn’t stopped thinking of me as Kai even though I’ve been running from that name because of her.”

“Damn.” Your jaw clenched in anger as Jongin placed the final piece of the puzzle in your mind. “I hate when Sehun is right. My roommate is a psychopath.”

And, on a less infuriating but still annoying note, Sehun also accurately predicted that you would have to move in with him and Chanyeol— at least if you wanted to date Jongin without enduring daily rants from your deranged roommate.

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