#and hades pulls away. because she’s leaving him and he’s terrified. he’s terrified and turns it into anger because otherwise he’s helpless. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

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.”

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thefanficmonster · 4 years

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You Call It A Mess, We Call It Baking

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Tons of fluff

Summary: A friendly argument via Discord leads to a baking session. Said baking session leads to a kitchen looking like it was the victim of a tornado. The lesson here is: don’t leave Corpse and Y/N in the kitchen together.

Requested by Anon, thank you so much for your request, hope I captured what you wanted well and I hope you enjoy reading it.

Corpse’s POV

I’ve been sitting in a Discord call with Y/N for about three years now, keeping her company as she’s editing some footage Sean sent her earlier. In the meantime, I’m reviewing the recently submitted stories by my viewers, reading some lines I find funny or downright terrifying to her.

“When I went in the kitchen to check on the cake, it was already out of the oven, a sticky note next to it on the counter that read: ‘smells nice’. My blood ran cold.“ I read the eerie sentence that is suggesting one of my most frightening scenarios - a stalker getting inside your house. I get chills just imagining what was probably going on in the sender’s head when they saw that.

“Jeez, it’s been so long since I’ve cooked something other than omelet.“ I hear Y/N reply absentmindedly, completely neglecting the fear factor of what’s going on in the story.

“Good job missing the point.” I chuckle, my eyes continuing to scan the email until my brain actually comprehends what she said, “Wait, you mean to tell me you have baked anything ever?! No offense, Y/N, but I was honestly doubting your ability to make an omelet as well. In all the years we’ve been friends I can’t remember you ever not saying ‘I hade takeout’ when I asked you what you had for dinner.”

The scoff that comes through my headphones is the most adorable thing ever. She’s one to easily take a joke and never get offended by anything, but I know how heated she can get with her sarcasm. If I’m being honest, I’m always here for it.

“There are many things you don’t know about me, Corpsy. A girl’s gotta have some aces up her sleeve.“ I can just imagine the narrowing of here eyes and the tilting of her head as she says that. She has a very specific way of expressing her thoughts. When we first met I accidentally made the comparison to one of those children’s books that have pictures, stories and small buttons for audio. That comparison has stuck with me and I look back at it very often. To fully catch her point, you don’t just listen to her. No, no, no. You focus on every change in her face and body. The way she looks away during certain parts of her speech, the way her voice plays with several different tones at once. Her posture while speaking. Just like those books - you don’t just listen to the audio, you look at the pictures and read the text.

“Well you know how much I like playing poker, why don’t you come over and throw those aces down.“ The last thing you should ever give Y/N is a challenge. She won’t only homerun it, but will never let you forget it either. When we met she was a girl with self esteem in the negatives, so seeing her brag about her achievements to me always brings me joy.

The details I’ve listed are pretty in-depth, aren’t they? That’s because I don’t want to let anything slip when it comes to her. This realization hit me early in our friendship and it was only like two years in that I finally connected the dots - this investment in her of mine was not simple nor platonic. Come to think of it, I reckon it never was.

“No way, I’m not changing out of my pajamas just to come to your house.” She laughs, once again making me picture her full body reaction to her statement.

I smirk, knowing I’m about to bring out my main weapon, “Oh come on, I’ve seen you in pajamas countless times. You can just admit you don’t wanna embarrass yourself. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

I can sense her fuming even though she’s like two miles away. “I’ll be there in 15.”

She hangs up before getting the chance to hear me lose control of the laughter I’ve been suppressing.

Man, I love this girl.

Y/N’s POV

“It’s on.“ I say as soon as the door in front of me swings open to reveal the smug smirking face of my bestfriend. The foundation of my tough, unbothered act is shaken up by the outburst of butterflies in my stomach which occurs every time I see him. I can never look at this man and not turn at least a little red in the cheeks.

It’s been long since I self-diagnosed with the malicious ‘falling for someone who would never reciprocate my feelings’ illness. I’ve been living with it for a while. What medication do I take? Dating other guys. One bad relationship after another, scolding myself that every one of them has been a desperate attempt to get him to change his gaze on me from ‘best friend’ to something more. Hell, I don’t even know how to define that ‘something more’. I once even tried to admit my feelings, but I was so vague and so incoherent that I didn’t understand myself, so how was he supposed to grasp my downright sad excuse of a confession.

“No ‘hello’, no nothing?“ He moves aside to let me in. I walk right past him with a sassy flip of my hair to mask the nervousness of being aware that his eyes were on me, “Rude.“ He murmured with an obvious smile in his tone.

He looks as cute as ever, black sweatpants and a black tee, hair messy as though he has just rolled out of bed. I can say with the upmost certainty that he’s the only one who can pull of that hairstyle.

I hide mine as I throw on the apron that’s hanging by his fridge, ready to take over his kitchen and put those aces of mine to use. I can’t help but furrow my brows when I see him enter the kitchen behind me and lean against the counter. That’s when I notice the counter is lined with all the ingredients I’ll need for the cake I had in mind.

“OK, what do we do first?“ he claps his hands together, straightening his posture as he gives me a expectant look.

It takes all my brain cells to prevent me from freezing up completely. I’m not usually like this, mind you, I’m a lot better at keeping what’s going on inside my head camouflaged. I don’t know what’s happening to me, but I don’t have much time to dwell on that. If I do, he’ll pick up on it right away.

“Um, we are not gonna do anything. I will be here baking, and you will remain outside the kitchen until I’m done. If you need something, ask and I’ll bring it to you. I can’t have you sabotaging my project, impostor.” I narrow my eyes at him like he’s the most dangerous of threats. And he is, for my mental sanity.

He fakes a hurt expression, clearly fighting to the best of his ability to hide how much he’s enjoying messing with me. “We’ve known each other for five years, Y/N. Don’t you trust me?”

I lean over the counter to where we’re about two feet apart and whisper, “Not. Even. A. Little. Bit.”

He smiles, “You’re just trying to get away with making this cake by watching a YouTube tutorial. Admit it, you can’t even crack an egg properly.” His eyes are now as narrowed as mine as we stare each other down at a proximity that’s rapidly raising my body temperature and heartbeat. It’s not fair. I’m a mess around him so he automatically has the upper hand.

As expected, I give in, “You better not mess around though.”

After I force him to give me several different oaths, we start. I’m working on the batter, he’s working on the frosting. We decided to decorate it with crimson and dark purple frosting. We’re both really pick about the color shades so he’s currently struggling to get the crimson perfect.

“Let’s make it a layer cake.“ He suggests out of the blue, “Two layers, nothing crazy.“

I think it over for a moment or two before shrugging, “OK, but then you better grab a bowl and help me with the second layer. You know how to make the batter, right?”

He confirms that he does and walks out of my line of sight. I hear him open the fridge as I whisk the eggs I have cracked with the sugar.

“You want something to drink?“ He asks while rummaging through the fridge.

I decline, try to focus on the recipe that I have somehow memorized to the smallest of details. As I’m reciting the it silently to make sure I didn’t skip any steps with the batter, I feel something cold run down my back causing me to scream.

“What the fuck was that?!“ I turn around and glare at him just as the ice cube slips out from under my hoodie and falls to the floor. The fucker’s laughing whole heartedly, not giving a damn that he just gave me a mini heart attack. Mainly cause I thought it was a roach or something, and he know I hate bugs.

“You do realize how boiling red you are, right? You look like a lobster. I thought you needed something to cool you down.“

Instead of being annoyed, I do a full 180 and decide to play his game, “Yeah, I know...” I trail off, reaching my hand back towards the bowl of flour. Grabbing a a handful of the white powder I throw it at him before he can even catch on. Needless, to say, his outfit and hair aren’t so black anymore. “Ah, I knew your hair would look good with snowflakes in it, but you can never be too sure.”

“This means war, Y/N.” His smile is borderline malicious, getting me excited for what’s to come.

Him and I have always had these so called wars, but never like you’d imagine. We are silent, strategic, subtle. Neither of us knows when the other will attack until it’s too late. That’s why instead of going for a counter-attack right away, he heads to complete his mission of making the batter for the second layer.

All is quiet except the noises of the utensils clinking together every now and then. I keep a close watch on him out of the corner of my eye and I notice no sus behavior. That is until I see him take a spoonful of his batter and eat it. I whirl around at the speed of a gust of wind, eyes wide, “Do you want to fuck up your guts.” He ignores me as he takes another spoonful, bringing it close to his mouth. This time, I grab onto his arm causing the contents of the spoon to spill on my hoodie.

I roll my eyes, unbothered by the brown stain that by some miracle missed the apron and fell on my grey hoodie, “Don’t. Eat. The. Batter. Copy?“

“Paste.“ He nods, smirking with pride as he puts the spoon aside.

I sigh and return to my side of the kitchen, focusing on the next task: poring the batter into the circular baking tray which he, for some reason, has two of. He repeats the task soon after me and we put the two trays in the oven. I help him with the frosting, getting the shades close enough to what we had in mind.

After about five minutes of the crusts baking, a wonderful smell spreads throughout the kitchen. At this point, all we have to do is wait for the oven to signal that our cinnamon crust is ready to be taken out, wait for it to cool down and then frost the cake.

“It smells really good.“ He comments, turning his head to look at me.

I’m sitting atop the kitchen counter and Corpse is standing next to me. This is the only time him and I are at approximately the same height. The realization brings a thought to my mind, one that makes me feel like an evil mastermind.

“Hey, remember earlier when you said I couldn’t crack an egg properly?“ He hums affirmatively, “Well...“

The carton of eggs is within arm’s reach. I grab an egg, chip it off the side of the counter and crack it apart above his head, its contents coating his hair. “How’s that for a proper egg crack?” I ask victoriously.

He lets out a surprised sound, something between a gasp and a laugh. Shaking his head to get the yoke to fall down, he says amusedly: “I don’t know...you tell me.”

Too late for me to do anything. There’s milk all over me.

The malicious smile on his face is replicated on mine and now it’s really on. However, as we reach for the items meant to be out weapons, the oven dings.

Frosting the cake goes about as well as you expect: there’s more frosting on us than the cake itself.

“Let’s make amends, please. I’m so not looking forward to taking three showers tonight.“ I say, raising a white napkin and waving it around.

“Fair enough.“ He shrugs and we shake hands.

As I’m about to pull my hand back, he holds onto it, making me look up at him. Our eyes lock and I suddenly regain that same shakiness and vulnerability I always have around him. It never leaves me, I just manage to ignore it. The sound of my panic is muffled by the sound of my heart thumping the loudest it has ever.

Expectedly, he is the bold one who makes the first and final move. The move to end one era of us and start another. His lips touch mine and all fades. It’s just him and I. The friends who were never just friends. The cowards who suck at dealing with emotions. The fearful little kids that are afraid of rejection because we both mean so much to each other, to the point of suffering to prevent the possibility of losing one another.

We embrace who we are, finally admitting that friends is not what we are meant to remain forever.

The kiss might’ve been brief, but the meaning it carries makes it the most valuable moment of my life. One I’ll cherish forever. Something in his eyes tells me he will too. That’s all I need. That’s all we need. No words are necessary.

Suddenly, our bubble bursts as a result of his ringing phone. He lets go of one of my hands and takes his phone from the counter.

“It’s Dave”, he smiles, picking up the call and turning to get me in the camera frame. “Hey Dave, look who’s here with me.“

I wave at the camera and at the baffled face of Dave. “Hi!”

“What, in the name of God, is that mess?“ He raises both his eyebrows as his eyes scan us and the kitchen behind us.

“You call it a mess, we call it baking.“ Corpse and I look at each other and smile, blushing as red as the streak in Dave’s hair.

“Am I missing something here? Did I call at a bad time?“ He asks, still struggling to rationalize what he is seeing.

“Yeah, you actually did. I’ll call you back.“ Corpse dead-ass hangs up on him, putting his phone away before turning to me, “We have more important matters at the moment.“

He kisses me again, this time more confidently. His arms wrap around me and prep me up on the counter, insinuating that this kiss won’t be as short as the last.

#corpse husband #corpse #husband #corpsehusband #corpse husband fanficiton #corpse husband fanfic #x reader #reader #fanfiction #fanfic #corpse simp #request #requests open #romance #friends to lovers #love

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dizzydancingdreamer · 3 years

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Persephone’s Symphony | Prologue | Hades

Hey lovelies— this will either be a long fic or a short series, depending on how it best plays out. I decided to upload a sneak peak— let me know what y’all think and do enjoy!!

Synopsis: In which he is the bad one— the dangerous one, the clunky one, the one who only knows how to break things— and she is the good one— the fragile one, the soft one, the one who knows how to put things back together— and he has to keep her alive long enough for anyone else— anyone who can do more than kill— to save her like she deserves to be saved— to save her from him. There are no pomegranates, no three headed dogs, and no requirement to stay— that is, if they don’t count an assassin on the loose out for her neck. In that case, three days in a safe house doesn’t feel like a long time— just long enough for Persephone and Hades to remember why opposites attract.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader (third person)

Warnings: Mentions of death, at times semi-graphic, eventual smut

Word count: 2.5k (and counting)

Master List

“Barnes, you’re on protection detail.”

He must be dreaming— he must have fallen asleep with the tv on again. That’s been happening a lot lately; he’s trying to catch up on normal life. On all the shows and movies and music he’s missed throughout the years. He’s trying to catch up. Or maybe he’s just trying to drown out the silence. It doesn’t matter why, to be honest, all that matters is that he is asleep and what he is hearing and seeing are the workings of a bad dream. There was a marathon last night. Yeah, there was. Movies— a few of them. Something about bodyguards. He’s just dreaming about the movies.

Right?

Wrong.

“You’re to make sure she is secured at all times during the next three days— do not leave Miss Y/l/n’s side under any circumstances. Understood?”

Bucky blinks twice, his brows creasing as he stares down his commander, a stubby, burly man with beady eyes. It’s a trial run— he can’t say no. He wants to, he just can’t afford to. Not if he wants a job. Still, he sees no reason for this to be on him. He’s a soldier— a good one. A dangerous one. Watching over little girls isn’t in his job description. He’s a fighter— a monster.

“I need an affirmative, Barnes.”

He bites back a scowl. He’s not trying to get demoted, he knows he’s on thin ice. But, like, isn’t there anyone else? Hell— Wilson is right next to him! Surely he’s better. He’s charming, at least. A flirt. He would be perfect! Wilson would keep her safe. So would he— maybe. Definitely from the threat. From himself, though— well, three days is a long time to avoid sleeping. Even for him.

“Barnes!”

Damnit.

“Understood, sir.”

Wilson’s amused chuckles sound from beside him, his hand landing like a ton of bricks on Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky contemplates the repercussions of punching the smug bastard in the middle of a briefing. It can’t be more than a pay dock. He isn’t making that much anyway, it wouldn’t be a huge loss. It would be worth it to wipe that grin off his face. But, no, he can’t. He’ll have to do it later.

“Someone’s on babysitting duty.” Wilson snickers, pressing his fist to his mouth to hide his goading from the commander. “Remember Barnes; no candy after seven.”

“Shut up, Wilson.” He grunts back, just barely stopping his metal arm from flying out and smacking him— from squashing him like the bug he is.

“Think she has a bedtime?”

“Think you could shut up?”

Wilson flexes his fingers, holding them up slightly. Just enough as to not get caught ignoring the briefing but also enough to make sure Bucky notices. “Woah—” he says under his breath, that stupid smirk still heavy in his tone— “someone’s touchy today.”

“It’s a bad decision and you know it.” He says it simply— gruffly— it is the truth after all. He’s dangerous.

Wilson’s face softens, the glee filtering from his tone. “You’ll be fine, Buck.”

Bucky doesn’t answer, he just clenches his jaw. He doesn’t want to have another conversation about this. You’re a good person. You didn’t mean to do it. It’s not your fault. It might not be his fault but he still did it. He still feels it. That makes him bad— if not morally than at least physically. He’s a liability.

“Y/n Y/l/n—” Bucky focuses back on the commander; he may as well learn what he needs to do— “the twenty-five year old heir to the biggest communications technology manufacturing companies in the world. They do dealings with a range of chief institutions including our own White House—”

If Bucky’s teeth weren’t pressed together hard enough to make him wonder if they’re going to disintegrate, then his jaw would be on the floor right now. She’s the what? Did he just say twenty-five? He can’t even remember what he was doing at twenty-five— whatever he was doing it certainly wasn’t that. Granted, he probably doesn’t really want to remember what he was doing. Soldier things. Dangerous things. He shakes his head, huffing out a breath of air.

“Her immediate family have all turned up dead within the last six months—”

Bucky flinches— this time his jaw does drop.

“Holy shit.” Wilson mutters from next to him— Bucky can only nod. No more jokes about babysitting then.

Some pictures appear on the screen behind the commander, each one more gruesome than the last. It is nothing overtly sinister— nothing he hasn’t seen before— nothing worse than anything he’s seen before. Or worse than what he, himself, has done. He shivers, staring at the photos. Two men and a woman, each with a scarlet circle blown through their foreheads. What the fuck.

“Other executives have been found dead as well—” more pictures, more bullet holes— “She is the last one. We don’t know who or why— our mission is to find out, execute, and above all keep Miss Y/l/n alive—”

The pictures change, finally showing the woman who is to be in the soldier’s care, and his heart stops. Not for any normal reason, though— not because of how obscenely beautiful she is or because of the way her eyes pierce through the junky projector as though she were actually in the room with him. Not because of how soft she looks or how he can see the pink sheen of her lip gloss or the way those glossy lips are curved into an open mouth smile— like the picture had been taken mid laugh. No. His heart stops because of how god damn fragile she looks.

In the picture she seems to be at a University with some friends of hers. They’re backed against a brick facade, shoulder to shoulder like some sort of preppy mugshot. It’s probably supposed to be comical— Wilson lets out a hmph next to him, clearly seeing it as well— but Bucky can’t find it in himself to laugh. Not given the circumstances. Regardless though the picture gives him the information he needs to know; that she is a head shorter than the males in the picture. That seems normal— a head isn’t much in the scheme of things. The size difference is nothing.

Nothing unless, of course, you’re a giant super soldier whose genetically modified to be larger, stronger, and faster than the average man. Deadlier than the average man. He won’t be just a head taller than her— he’ll be at least two. Maybe more. And that’s just the height— he doesn’t even want to think about the rest. He is going to be stuck for three days, in what will most likely be a cramped safe house, with a girl who he could potentially break by bumping into her too hard. He can see it now: he takes the corner too fast and the next thing he knows she’s sprawled at his feet, her limbs bent at grotesque angles and her glossy lips flattened. All because he didn’t think to check.

This is going to be a long three days.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

As it turns out, there are no safe houses— not legitimate ones at least. What there is, however, is the Wilson’s old family home in Delacroix, Louisiana— a semi falling apart, two-story build with robin's egg blue, fading paint. It is nestled deep into the bayou, hidden meticulously between towering trees. It is miles from any main roads and on the bank of a mostly dead river. Foot traffic is scarce and boats rarely pass on sunny days, let alone during the rainy season— the season it just so happens to be. Perfect.

Well, the location is perfect. The rest is a god damn shit show.

“You ready?” Sam doesn’t look at him— he knows better than that, opting instead to continue staring out at the bayou from behind the wheel.

Bucky, hunched over in the passenger seat, eyes also locked on the blue home, shrugs his shoulders. “Don’t really have a choice, do I?”

Sam sighs and Bucky tries not to tense at the sound. Please, not another lecture— not right now. He tries to ignore the man, gaze pouring over what he assumes is supposed to be a charming porch. Under a dim but sturdy awning there waits a white swing with a long bench seat and some floral pillows. Across from it are two rocking chairs swaying softly in the Louisiana breeze. One has a matching blanket draped over the back. It is supposed to look cozy— he knows it’s supposed to and he is sure to everyone but him that it is cozy. To him, though, it looks like everything he doesn’t have. Like warmth and sunny days and peace. Things he wants and things that make his skin crawl because of how foreign they are to him.

“You’re not going to hurt her.” Sam taps his hand on the wheel, sounding out a pattern that plays more like bullets ricocheting through the cab of the truck than whatever melody it actually is.

Bucky grinds his teeth together. Now he’s looking at the window beside the porch. Is it a kitchen? A mudroom? A den? He isn’t sure, there’s a white curtain pulled across the frame, blocking his vision from whatever waits for him on the inside. Blocking his vision from her. For a moment he thinks he sees the curtain move— a shadow of a hand passing along the edge. He turns away— he doesn’t want to scare her if she’s trying to size him up before they meet. It’s the least he can do. God only knows how terrified she already is.

His stare lands on Sam— an invitation for the soldier to finally look away from the bayou. “But I could, right? That’s what matters here— I could hurt her.”

“No, Buck, you couldn’t— you wouldn’t. You aren’t evil or whatever it is you think you are.” Sam raises a brow and Bucky scowls— it always feels like he’s in his head.

Of course he would never tell Sam Wilson that— like a dog left to fend for himself, he would rather fight.

“Don’t pretend like you have any idea what I think.” He can’t find it in himself to feel guilty for snapping— isn’t that what wild animals do?

Ever the patient animal rescuer, Sam rolls his eyes at the bite. “You’re a good man, Barnes.”

Bucky stares back for a minute, not sure how to even broach an answer, before breaking, snapping his gaze back to the inviting home— his kennel for the next three days. He clenches his jaw, trying not to slam his head against the dashboard for being an idiot. Even Bucky understands that it’s bad when he breaks the stare first— he’s been told before that he has a staring problem. He just doesn’t want to look Wilson in his eyes and explain to him exactly why he’s wrong. Maybe it’s just easier to let him think what he wants.

“Whatever.”

Maybe he wants just one person to truly believe that he isn’t the bad guy— even if he doesn’t believe it himself.

“I thought old people were supposed to be mature.”

Bucky flashes him a forced grin, one that tastes like the three hours of sleep he got last night and the five hours of self-loathing, shoving open his door and following it with his foot. “That’s me— the mature one.”

Sam barks out a laugh; either Bucky’s grimace— grin— worked or Sam is choosing to ignore it. “You’re old, not mature— there’s a difference, pal.”

“Hmph.” Bucky jumps out of the truck, yanking the duffle bag over his shoulder as his boots sink into the spongy grass.

His skin dampens immediately, a combination of the marshy climate and the grey clouds hanging above his head. A few droplets fall against his face and he slings a hand over his brows, turning towards his fate for the next three days. Without the barrier of the truck between him and the house, he almost feels like a normal man again. The weak, destructible kind. Theoretically, if the house were to fall on top of him right now he would survive. He would be pinned under the rubble, yes, but alive. It just doesn’t feel like it— it feels like he would be crushed. It makes the hair on the back of his neck stand on end— his hackles rising as he tries not to bare his teeth— or fangs— at this new kind of threat. If only people could see him now; The White Wolf afraid of a charming, bayou home.

What a joke.

He shakes his head, pushing the passenger door shut with a sharp clang. Of course he isn’t afraid of a house— then he really would be an idiot. No, he is afraid of something else entirely— something much more sinister. Bucky is afraid of suburbia; of normalcy. What, with a metal arm and a brain hardwired to kill— it only makes sense he would also be programmed to steer clear of anything half-way decent. Especially pretty, fragile girls with glossy lips. Fuck. He squeezes his eyes closed, his vibranium fingers clenching around the strap of his bag. What is he even doing here?

A familiar, mechanical buzz fills the air and he cracks an eye back open in time to see Wilson leaning his head out of the passenger window. “Look, man— it’s three days. The fridge is full, the wifi is on, and it’ll rain so much she’ll probably nap the entire time. Pretend you’re at home doing whatever it is you would normally do. You’ll be fine.”

Bucky nods, sticking to his guns and letting the soldier believe what he wants. He tells himself again that it is because it is easier that way. “I gotta go, Wilson.”

With that he pushes his way to the door. His feet sink further into the grass with every step, curling around his ankles as though trying to warn him against entering the house— or trying to save the poor girl inside. He can’t decide. Warning or trap. Both. A warning for her— the princess; the little girl in the forest— and a trap for him— the rabid wolf. He steps onto the porch, his boots echoing off the concrete. To him it’s booming. He doesn’t want to think about what it must sound like to her, especially with everything the commander said she’s been through. A giant coming to kill her is his guess. Movement to the left catches his eye, the curtains shifting again, and his neck flushes.

“Hey Buck?”

He sighs— again— and turns over his shoulder for what he hopes is the last time— he just wants to get this over with. “What, Wilson?”

He knows before the man speaks that the cheshire grin on his face can mean nothing good— still he waits for the answer.

“Remember to tiptoe.”

#Bucky Barnes #bucky #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky fic #mcu #mcu fic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky imagine #mcu imagine #marvel cinematic universe #Persephone's Symphony

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mrsgiovanna · 3 years

Text

The Beguiling (Hades! Don Giorno x Persephone! Fem! Reader)

This concept has been on my mind for the longest time. This is loosely based off the lore of Hades and Persephone, set in a modern mafia AU, with Giorno as Hades and the reader as Persephone. 🥺💖🐞

TW: Kidnapping, yandere themes, manipulative behaviour, disordered relationship dynamics

Word count : 6.3k

“The truth of the matter I believe to be this. There is, as I stated at first, no absolute right or wrong in love, but everything depends upon the circumstances, to yield to a bad man in a bad way is wrong, but to yield to a worthy man in a right way is right.”

- Plato, Symposium

Being the Don of a mafia is a difficult task, being so far removed from everyone and everything else. Some would even say, its like being part of an entirely different realm…

Extremely beautiful but entirely unapproachable, Giorno didn’t appear in public very often, the burden of running the organization had brought many threats to his safety. Granted, he was able to thwart any plan to even remotely harm him, but one doesn’t have time for such annoyances when you wield as much power as he did. Taking over something so big at such a young age changes a person, and Giorno was no different, he was always seen as aloof and calculating, but there were other dimensions to his character that he was painfully aware of, but would not reveal to anyone else… yet.

“Don Giovanna, are you ready to go? The driver is ready for us,” his consigliere spoke in an even, respectful tone while addressing his don.

“Yes, we can leave, have you informed Fugo of the change in our plans?” Giorno’s voice was monotonous, soft and polite, but conveyed no emotion. The task at hand today was not a pleasant one… he hated having to deal with defectors and had avoided it up until this point. This case was different… the defector in question was your brother. You had always held a special place in his heart ever since he encountered you upon taking over Passione. You were always kind towards him, and all your conversations had brought about a sense of peace within himself. Nonetheless, he dismissed it as a simple juvenile crush, and continued with his mammoth task of remolding the diseased organization, excising the ‘tumors’ to allow for a healthier, better, stronger Passione to emerge. Sacrificing his youth, his personal life and precious friends in order to attain his dream, he was not going to let anyone destroy everything he had worked so hard to create.

As the years went on, there were many times that your path had unwittingly crossed with the young don’s which only intensified his feelings for you, but given the nature of his lifestyle, he tried to convince himself that loving you from afar would be good enough, but Giorno’s resolve- unshakeable in every other scenario- was quickly waning in this regard.

Meeting with your father was painful, his demeanor reminding Giorno of a shadowed figure from his past who had changed his life forever.

“He’ll have to be dealt with, you understand this, correct?”

“I’m aware of this, Don Giovanna. I… I’m willing to take any punishment you see fit… please keep my daughter out of this… I can stake my life on her innocence in all of this,” your father spoke emphatically, desperate to protect you, appealing to the don’s humanity. Giorno furrowed his eyebrows, surely your father knew he wouldn’t harm you in any way- was it normal for people to be this terrified of him? The sharp slam of a door and a greeting from a honeyed voice snapped Giorno from his thoughts.

“I’m home, I hope you’re hungry, I’m making octopus salad, squid ink risotto and I’ve got chocolate fondants for dessert… oh goodness! Don Giovanna- I’m sorry… I, um…” you stuttered embarrassingly as your gaze landed on the blonde’s handsome face and shifted to the ground immediately. Before Giorno could answer you to try and quell your discomfort, your father interjected, sending you away from the room. The young don was completely awestruck by your ethereal beauty, as if you had been crafted by the gods themselves, descended to create joy in an otherwise dull world. He made a silent promise to himself- he had to have you as his own.

“(Y/n), please give us a moment piccolina, I’ll come to you as soon as we have concluded our meeting,”

“Of course, please pardon my interruption,” with a small nod of your head, you took your leave, wanting to start making the dishes you had just rattled off. As you busied yourself with your preparations, your mind kept returning to Giorno, he was always calm and pleasant, but you hadn’t seen him with that kind of expression before. The fact that you hadn’t seen your brother in days didn’t bode well with today’s events… you hoped he was okay, but you experienced first-hand how aggressive he could be, something, you were told, he had shared with your mother. You didn’t have much of a relationship with her as her job had taken her away from the family a bit too much. You understood now that you were a young adult, but your emotions still vacillated between acceptance and resentment when you observed the families of your friends.

“You know… because of the difference in our ages, you’ve always told me that you cared for me as a father would care for a son, as a result, our relationship has always been cordial… its allowed us to speak frankly as we have always done in the past,”

“Yes, Don Giovanna… this is true.”

“Please, I’ve told you many times before, call me Giorno…”

“Alright… Giorno,”

“Good, good, see? That sounds better already. As I was saying before, if your affections for me run that deep… accept me as a son-in-law and allow me to marry (y/n) and you will never have to worry about her safety again. Nobody would ever think to harm her if they have to contend with me first,”

“What? Are you asking for permission to marry my daughter? I don’t think she has even considered something like that… you’ve barely spoken to each other…” your father was battling to make sense of Giorno’s request, if one could even call it a request.

“I don’t think you understand the situation you’re in… your son has singlehandedly created a colossal mess; we’d be in the middle of a turf war if it wasn’t for the quick thinking of my consigliere. That’s not to say other people wouldn’t want to exact their own personal brand of justice. I can guarantee you though, if she’s under my care, none of those things will ever reach her.” Just as the consigliere was about to speak, perhaps, an attempt to rationalize with the don, a sharp sideward glance from the latter had left all suggestions unspoken. The silence in the room was palpable… uncomfortable, until it was broken by Giorno.

“I’ve loved (y/n) for as long as I’ve known her, the best place for her would be with me, my strength is unparalleled… this is probably a lot to take in right now, I’ll allow you some time to come around to the idea, I’d hate to have to take her by force, but, if that’s what it will take…”

“Are you threatening me Don Giovanna?” asked your father with a restrained bite to his voice.

“Of course not, I’m merely making my intentions clear, my reach spans well beyond anything you could ever imagine… well, I’ve said all I need to in this instance. I’ll be back for her in three days, I trust you’ll be able comply with my suggestion. I’ll be taking my leave now.” With a flourish of his cerulean blue coat, Giorno and his consigliere left your home. Your father cursed his position, but there was little he could do about it. Finding you blissfully tinkering in the kitchen, his heart broke, knowing already that this was one of the last times he would be seeing you like this… or at all.

“You don’t agree with what I’m doing, do you, Lorenzo? You know I’m good at reading people, although you’re not even trying to mask your disdain,” asked Giorno, breaking the silence on the drive home.

“Well, if I’m allowed to speak freely, I don’t think you’re going about this in the right manner. She’s going to be terrified and resentful because you’re effectively abducting her, so in brief, I don’t agree with this at all,”

“Fair enough, and for the record, obviously I’m aware that she’s going to hate me… at first anyway, but she’ll come to understand eventually. Anyway, what’s done is done, in three days, I’ll be bringing home my goddess.” Giorno turned his attention to his phone and with that Lorenzo had backed off, knowing from years of serving Giorno that there was no talking to him when he resolved to do something.

“Father, you’re so quiet… did something happen?” you asked, part of you not wanting to know the answer to that question.

“It’s a mess, but don’t worry about that, I’ll handle it. There is something that I have to speak to you about though… it’s about Don Giovanna, he would like to see you in a few days, nothing serious, just be sure to keep your schedule open for the day,” your father explained, only divulging half the truth of your situation.

“He wants to see me? Do you know why? Have I done something wrong?” you were curious as to what Giorno could possible want with you.

“Of course not dolcezza, he just wants to have a chat with you, I think he’s just making sure that you’re alright… that’s part of why he was here today.

“Oh, alright, I’ll be available. Anyway, dinner’s ready, once you get washed up, we can eat,” you glanced up at your father to see his face contorted in grief. “What’s the matter? I know you don’t like talking about things that have to do with your occupation, but you’ve been like this ever since Don Giovanna left,”

Being too much for him to bear, he pulled you into a vicelike embrace, almost as if you would disappear if he let you go, which was not entirely false. “Aww, it’s okay dad, everything will be fine, come on, the food’s getting cold, you need to eat,” with that, you both ate in a comfortable silence as you always did, before you both retired for the evening.

While you tried to prepare yourself for your “meeting”, your soon to be captor was busy creating your sanctuary, or rather, overseeing the creation of your sanctuary- there was no reason why your surroundings couldn’t be as beautiful as you were, his aim after all was to get you to fall in love with him. Large, glittering mirrors with gilded frames adorned the walls of the hallways that lead to your room. Inside, was everything one could ever hope to have; an extensive closet filled with things that were made especially for you, various trinkets and baubles carefully selected for you, state of the art electronic devices, albeit with restrictions on the amount of things you could access… just for the time being though. If you were to start off as a bird in a cage, it should be a bejeweled cage worthy of a rarity like you.

As it got closer to the time you’d be seeing Giorno, your nerves started increasing exponentially, you knew that under normal circumstances, having to meet with someone like him without knowing what the subject matter would be was intimidating, but this feeling was something else altogether. As if something in your gut was telling you to cancel- to run- but you dismissed those feelings, and prepared yourself for the engagement.

“Buonasera cara, you look especially charming this evening…” he greeted you with a velvety voice that masked the true nature of him being there.

“Buonasera Don Giovanna, thank you for the compliment,”

“Shall we leave, (y/n)?”

“Um, okay… I just need to fetch my things and let my father know that I’m leaving…”

“Alright, perfect, actually, would you mind if I followed you? I’d like a quick word with him before we leave,” his expression was so charismatic, you felt guilty for not inviting him inside immediately.

“Of course, I’m sorry, please do come in.” you say as you stepped aside to make room for Giorno to enter. You lead him to the study and went to fetch your coat and purse to go, giving yourself a onceover in the mirror to make sure you were presentable and with that you kissed your father on the cheek and left.

The restaurant that you and Giorno went to was completely empty except for a single table set up for you both and the staff that were going to serve you, you found it odd, but dismissed it as one of the nuances of leading a mafia, privacy was of utmost importance. Ever the gentleman, the young don pulled out your chair for you and seated himself across from you.

“Thank you for agreeing to see me (y/n), I appreciate you taking the time to do so,”

“Of course, although I have to admit, I’m a little confused as to why I’m here,” you say with a nervous titter. The waiter brought a bottle of wine to the table, probably preapproved by Giorno already, and with a small nod, it is poured out into the awaiting glasses for the two of you.

“You will understand soon enough cara, come, lets toast to something… ah! To new beginnings…” he suggested with a sardonic smile.

“New beginnings? Okay… to new beginnings, salute!” with a confused smile and a delicate clink of your glasses you both took a sip of your wine. As the night went on, you were having a wonderful time, however, it seemed like your alcohol was getting to you faster than usual.

“Are you alright, cara, you look a bit out of sorts, come, I’ll take you home,”

“Thanks Don, I… I’m sorry I don’t know-” before completing the rest of your sentence, your consciousness faded and you fell into a strong pair of arms. Giorno sat you back down and made a quick call to his driver before picking you up again and placing you in the awaiting car to take you to your new home. As he gazed lovingly upon your face, he knew that the road is going to be a tedious one, but you would love him one day.

Your head pounded incessantly as you tried to open your eyes. The sensations on your skin were unfamiliar- soft, silken, so inviting, lulling you back into the deep slumber you were trying to break. Was this a dream? Your eyes finally opened to an unfamiliar room, you gathered the courage to sit up in bed, still unsure if you were in a dream or not and tried to rub the sleep out of your eyes. Looking around the room, feeling a sense of panic enveloping your very existence, you ran towards the large, ornately carved door to try and leave the room, but it was locked. The windows, it seemed, were crafted from reinforced glass as they would not break regardless of what was thrown at them. Left with only one option, you began to cry out for help, surely someone would be there, it was too well kept to be an abandoned building.

Listening to the commotion from outside the room were the guards and servants tasked with making sure your requests were fulfilled, but more importantly, they needed to ensure you were safe and didn’t escape. Giorno had a way with people, a charisma that both scared and enchanted those around him. Disobedience was not even a fleeting option for those who served him, partly out of fear, but mostly out of devotion to the young don. Giving each other a knowing glance, your guard decided to call his boss to come and subdue you before you had hurt yourself.

Your throat felt raw from the shouting and hyperventilating, your skin shimmered, veiled in a thin layer of sweat and your eyes shifted this way and that, trying to spot something you could exploit to leave the room while your captor was away. It dawned on you that as terrifying as it was to be in that place, it would be even worse if you had to face whoever was holding you there, choosing rather to contend with the fear of the unknown, than putting a face to your jailor. As if even thinking of something willed it into existence, your worst nightmare materialized as you heard the door being unlocked.

“Tesoro… please stop, you’re hurting yourself,” your eyes widened when you heard the velvety voice addressing you with such tenderness.

“Don… Giovanna? Where am I? What are you doing here? Please, I need to go home, I don’t know who brought me here…” you could barely articulate yourself with your shaky voice.

“I know that you’re extremely scared and confused… there’s so much I need to explain to you… but please, first, let me look at your hands, you are hurt, I can take care of that,” it was only after he spoke that you saw the bruises blooming on the delicate skin of your hands and arms. You still stayed rooted to where you were, but Giorno inched closer, materializing GE to heal your injuries. His heart stung when you silently grimaced at the pain of his ability rejoining the blood vessels that had broken, but he hated seeing your beautiful skin being marred like that.

“Don…”

“Please, call me Giorno…”

“Okay… Giorno… can we go now? I need to go home, if we stay any longer the people who put me here might come back or send others, I…”

“Tesoro… this is your home now… the person who brought you here was me… what is the last thing you remember from yesterday?” The young don circled around you and sat you down next to him at the foot of the bed.

“Why? Why did you bring me here? Are you insane? I can’t stay here, I… don’t understand what the hell is going on! I need to call my father,” seeing you start to get agitated again, Giorno pulled out his phone and motioned for you to take it.

“Here, call him, he has already agreed to this arrangement. You’re not safe my love, I’m sure you know about the recent transgressions courtesy of your cretin of a brother. People are angry and want revenge, and unfortunately you’re in the direct line of fire. So it was decided that you would come and live with me, you’ll find all your belongings here already, mixed with things that I believe you would like. I will give you anything your heart desires, lavish you with all the love and attention I can. All you need to do is stay here… near me… nobody can challenge me…”

You heard the words, but nothing was making sense to you. You decided to take up your captor’s offer to speak to your father, who confirmed his entire story. Feeling dejected, empty and completely alone, you sank to the floor as violent sobs wracked your body. Seeing you in this state filled Giorno with dread as he lifted you off the lushly carpeted floor, but he knew he would be able to get you to love him eventually. This was this the initial shock; he was willing to wait for you to acclimate to your surroundings.

Thus began your life of isolation… your routine, if you could even call it that, consisted of waking up in your palatial room, begrudgingly having breakfast with your green-eyed abductor and sulking around for the rest of the day. Giorno put a lot of effort into making sure that you were comfortable and tried to interact with you as much as his schedule would allow him to. Initially, all of his attempts to speak to you were ignored, you wondered if the awkward silence even bothered him at all, but he always had a peaceful expression on his face. If nothing else, he was very patient with you, and at times you tested his patience on purpose, goading him to anger, in those times though, he simply left you alone in your room, not allowing you to leave for a few days, instructing your handlers to confiscate your electronics, not even offering you a sliver of human contact… you needed to think about why you were in that position after all, so there could be no distractions whatsoever. Those isolation periods would thankfully not last long enough to tip you over the edge though, and like a ray of sunshine after a storm, he’d come to unlock your doors and add color back into your world. You always were more affectionate towards him after a few days on your own, which, you reasoned, was due to the lack of any interaction at all as opposed to having any genuine feelings towards him. Giorno wasn’t picky though, he accepted your gentle touches and embraces all the same, one day… soon… you would undertake those gestures solely on your desire to do so.

Surely enough, as the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, you had warmed up to him, settling into an oddly satisfying domestic life with the don. The more of yourself you gave to him, the wider your world had gotten, until you eventually had free reign over the entire estate. You soon had come to realize that if you had just played your part, and listened to him, complied with his simple requests, his kindness towards you was limitless. Giorno had remained as attentive as ever, picking up on every little change on you from the subtle change in the color of your blush to the miniscule changes in the length of your hair after its trimmed, nothing escaped his well trained eye. He beamed when you started to wear the clothes and jewels he bought for you, seeing it as a sign that you were slowly starting to accept him. The truth of the situation was that you had, against your better judgement, fallen in love with this living deity.

“Giorno… the weather’s warming up quite beautifully, why don’t we train outdoors from now on instead of working out inside?” you suggested while you kneeled on the bed behind a seated Giorno as you undid his elaborate hairstyle and brushed out the product from his hair before he took a shower.

“Hmmm… alright bella, I suppose we could do that, I’m sure the fresh air would do us both some good,” as he got up, he bent down to place a chaste kiss on your forehead before heading into the shower. For a fleeting moment, you thought about your old life, you had earned back the liberty to speak to your family, well, your father, and some friends, but the fractured relationships weren’t the same. Pushing those negative feelings to the back of your mind, you waited for Giorno so that you could both go to sleep, but your heavy eyelids fell shut. His patience with you was never more evident than in these moments, never once overstepping your boundaries or initiating intimacy that would make you feel uncomfortable. Emerging to see your sleeping form, he pulled up the covers around you and climbed into the other side of the bed, facing you, he clutched your hands in his, allowing himself to close his eyes as well.

“We’ve managed to locate her… you aren’t going to like this though,”

“Just tell me where my daughter is, I’ll decide the rest,” your mother spoke bluntly to her partner.

“She’s living with some mafia boss; I think he’s her boyfriend or something. You never see her out on her own, she’s always with him. I’ve got people watching your husband’s house, she’s only been there once, with the cocky bastard in tow. The security at his place is insane, worst of all, we think he’s a stand user,”

“Stand user? Don’t make me laugh, that means nothing, we’re stand users too, every ability has a weakness that can be exploited,” your mother lit a cigarette and took a long drag, musing on what her first move should be. After a moment of contemplation, she had her sights set on her old marital home, deciding that your father would be able to provide the most complete description of what is going on. She portrayed a nonchalant exterior, but your mother was very worried for your safety. She had a powerful stand of her own, in fact all the members of your family were powerful stand users- except you. Your mother worked closely with a foreign organization dedicated to studying supernatural phenomena as such, most of her time was divided between her travels on behalf of the organization and work that she would need to do onsite at their headquarters in Washington. Over her lifetime, she’s found herself in many precarious positions, so she decided it would be safer if she stayed away from the family in an attempt to keep everyone safe… upon hindsight, that was a fatal miscalculation. To describe her mood after speaking to your father as livid, would be an understatement.

Not wasting a moment, your mother called her associate and made her way to the don’s villa, hell-bent on taking you back from his dark clutches.

“Bella, are you ready to go?” Giorno called to you as he pulled on his coat while you put on your last accessory. You never turned down an opportunity to go out, even though your outings became slightly more frequent, you were completely captivated by discovering the different facets to Giorno’s personality. As much as he was fervently observing you and curating an ideal world tailored to you, you were learning a lot about him and the circumstances that fashioned him in this manner.

“Yes tesoro, sorry for keeping you waiting… what is it?” you were met by a wide-eyed Giorno, and it hit you… Tesoro… the name trickled so effortlessly off your lips, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t really thinking…”

“Don’t apologize amore, as long as it’s you, I don’t mind…” he softly replied, as he stroked your cheek with the back of his forefinger. You heard a faint clatter accompanied by the ring of Giorno’s phone, informing him that there had been a security breach. The soft expression on his face was gone, as he gripped you with a protective arm.

Before you had time to ask him what was going on, you heard your name being called out by a voice you barely remembered, one you didn’t think you’d hear again.

“Mother?” your voice was a whisper. Your mother looked at you, disdain skewing her features before turning her attention to Giorno, whose grip continued to tighten around you.

“(y/n), I’ve come to take you away from here, it’s obvious leaving you in the care of your father was a mistake. And you, step away from her this instant, you will regret it if you don’t,”

You hadn’t noticed the swarm of black suits that had surrounded you all, ready to pounce at Giorno’s command. His intense gaze had not left your face while your mother spoke, searching for the slightest tell indicating you might have known about this, but you were just as perplexed as he was… the guilt of him doubting you twisting his features even further.

“It’s alright, stand down men… while you really have a nerve of breaking into my property, I feel that this can be solved amicably, I’d hate for (y/n) to have to contend with any discord between us,” he spoke with a calm, even voice but that didn’t match the fury brewing in his eyes.

“Amicable? You take my daughter away from her home and you still feel like this is something that can be talked out of? You really are a piece of work!”

“Better to be the overbearing lover than the neglectful mother…” Giorno’s tone was dripping with cynicism as he handed you to one of your awaiting guards.

“You sick bastard!” your mother cried out. As if being pushed back by a glowing force that you couldn’t quite discern, the young don was thrown backwards. You hated feeling so powerless. Giorno sat up and smiled mockingly, before launching into an attack of his own you assumed, as you saw a similar golden glow envelop his body, and the bodies of the security personnel backing him up.

“Please, stop it! All of you!” you wanted to run out between them but you were restrained by your guard. It didn’t take long for Giorno and his men to restrain your mother and her associate, taking care to leave them largely unharmed while you were still present. Giorno had made one fatal error though… blame it on overconfidence or his need to constantly check on you, he had turned away and left himself wide open for a last ditch attack from your mother as she broke free. At that very moment, your body moved itself before you could even think, and faster than you ever thought possible, pushing him out of the way with only a second to spare, as the attack hit the very spot he had stood on just a moment before, shattering the marble flooring on contact. The room was enveloped in silence, Giorno motioned for his guards to leave the room, as did your mother to her partner.

“(y/n) … tesoro mio… are you okay? You… you saved me…” he said as he kneeled next to your shaking, winged form, combing his hands through your hair as he tried to get a look at your face. You looked up to see Giorno with a wide eyed golden figure hovering over him, approaching you was your mother, with a luminescent humanoid woman matching her footsteps.

“Tesoro, it seems you’re a stand user after all,” mentioned Giorno, still gazing at you, this time with an expression you hadn’t seen from him before. Completely overwhelmed by the recent events, you sat for a moment, trying to regulate your breathing with the exercises Giorno practiced with you when your anxiety overwhelmed you.

��So these are what stands are… they look terrifying…” you say, finally managing to normalize your breathing and take command of your senses once again. “where is my stand then? I presume these two figures belong to you and mother.”

“Yours is different amore… are you able to walk? Come with me…” Giorno lead you to one of the mirrors so you could see how your stand manifested; you had large wings that had sprouted from your back, your eyes glowed colorlessly, and you had luminescent geometric patterns running down your face and body, akin to the patterns you would find on a circuit board. “You have what is known as a phenomenon stand, this means that it changes your body rather than manifesting a separate entity,”

“I see…”

“We can figure out the extent of your abilities another time, for now I need to see those injuries,”

“Excuse me? You’re not doing anything further with her, I’m still serious about taking back (y/n),” interjected your mother sarcastically.

“Are you trying to anger me on purpose? I loathe having to repeat myself. Do not mistake my unwillingness to kill you this very instant on anything other than respect for (y/n),”

“Likewise…”

“You’re both so selfish!” surprised to hear you raise your voice that much, both parties were stunned to silence.

“I’m a person with my own will, I have feelings, thoughts, desires, dreams… but neither of you bother to consider any of that… Giorno, you essentially abducted me, under the ruse of protecting me, I’m sure you would have found a way to keep me safe while I lived my own life, if it was that important to you, but you weren’t interested in that… if you had just approached me like a normal person, I’d still have fallen for you… well I guess now we’ll never know … And you… mother- I use that term liberally- abandoned me… abandoned us, I don’t care what the reasons were, you left me to grow up without a mother, and now you come here and ridicule me with this dramatic display of affection,” your voice began to crack but you wouldn’t let them see you cry, not so soon after finally finding your voice, so you left them there and went off to your special spot in the far corner of the estate. You knew that Giorno created that little piece of heaven for you strategically, as it was visible from his study, but it served as your safe place, and it was what you needed right now.

Giorno’s mind was clouded and he felt an uncomfortable suffocating sensation in his chest. Glancing at your mother it was apparent that your emotional outpouring had affected her as well.

“I think its best if you leave,”

“Wait, Giorno… perhaps this approach wasn’t the best way to do this, I underestimated you…”

“For the sake of curiosity, what do you propose?”

“That’s going to depend on how you answer my next question…”

“For someone with as few options as you have, you’re incredibly brazen,” shot back Giorno, clearly becoming tired of the conversation.

“I spoke to her father before coming here… he told me about my son… is… is he dead?” speaking earnestly this time, your mother steeling herself for what the young don would say to her. He observed her intently, debating whether it would be safe to divulge any information to her.

“That’s classified information,” he said, knowing full well that the idiot was alive somewhere, unable to be a threat to anyone again, unfortunately he couldn’t divulge this information to anyone. If she was smart enough she would be able to figure it out for herself, any more than that he could not offer.

“I understand… Fine, I’ll back off, (y/n) can stay here… but I need to speak to her, to explain everything, when she’s ready though…”

Giorno contemplated for a moment, feeling oddly moved by the change in your mother’s demeanor, he found himself agreeing with her, “Fine… I’ll allow it, but I can’t have you here, never again, if you need to see her, we’ll come to you… if that’s all, I need to check on (y/n)” Your mother took her leave, thoughts of the bizarre events of the day dominating her thoughts.

You listlessly played with the water in the fountain you sat beside, eyeing the way the sunshine made the droplets that fell from your fingertips look like gems. Hearing the scrunching sound of grass being stepped on, you knew that Giorno was approaching you. Unwilling to turn around to face him, you continued to look at the water.

“May I sit with you?” his voice was tender and didn’t match his imposing figure. Looking up his striking face, framed by golden waves, you nodded wordlessly.

“Talk to me cara…”

“What do you want me to say?”

“What’s on your mind…”

You paused, thinking carefully before starting to speak. “There’s so much on my mind… I… I just can’t understand you. You bring me here under the most dubious circumstances, but treat me like I’m the center of your world. I want to hate you for taking me away from my world, but I’ve never felt as loved by anyone in that world as much as I do here with you. How can you look at me with eyes so gentle now, when those same eyes were ready to kill not even two hours ago? How am I supposed to make up my mind about you when your every action contradicts the next?”

“It’s simple bella… I love you… you’re above the rules I set for everyone else… my one weakness is you, I’m sorry, I just don’t know how else to be, it’s either everything or nothing. Perhaps, forget about what you think and focus on how you feel… You know, we aren’t that different, the two of us… so many parents between us and barely enough traits among them to make up one good guardian, having to basically raise ourselves, so much pressure from such a young age, being scared of what lurks in the dark, experiencing so much physical pain, you just become immune to it. I have to admit, I was jealous of that brave assault by your mother, I don’t know if anyone would do the same for me… except you of course… you almost died to get me out of harm’s way… and just when I thought I couldn’t love you any more than I do…”

The gentle way he cupped your chin, as if you were made of crystal, and the swirl of emotion in his eyes, compelled you to act on your impulses, kissing him passionately, releasing some of the pent up emotions and frustrations that have been building up for the longest time. His free hand curled itself around your waist, while your hands tangled themselves in his hair. Resting your forehead on his, you hear him murmuring affirmations of his love for you.

“I love you too, Gio,” the words just rolled off your tongue as if you were always meant to say them. Giorno, seemingly moved by your placid declaration, buried his face in your hair, inhaling the floral scent of your shampoo that he loved so much. What you didn’t see was the sardonic smile blooming on his handsome face. He always was a master at deception… although, it couldn’t be classified as deception if most of what he said was true… could it? He didn’t want to play the sympathy card today, but it was the only way he could firmly cement your place with him for good. Pulling away for a moment, looking at the love-struck expression on your face as you softly move your hand from his hair to his chest, he could see that you were finally complete- entirely devoted to him… there was no room for guilt this time.

#giorno giovanna x reader #giorno x reader #Hades!Giorno x Persephone! Reader #Hades x Persephone modern AU #yandere jjba prt 5 #yandere giogio #yandere giorno #giorno giovanna #giorno #yandere jjba x reader #kidnapping #manipulation

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thebigqueer · 2 years

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(1/6) Hi. I'm the guy who sent the ideas for a Dark!Bianca AU a few months ago (you can call me Paul for now (:). There's another detail about it I want to share that I didn't have time to put in first time around, something to amplify the angst of what’s going on. As I said in my original series of Asks, Percy and Bianca fight several times in BotL while she’s an unknown masked assassin. This continues into the mission to the ship in TLO, only their confrontation here is more defined by

(2/6) Percy trying to talk Bianca down while she just keeps wailing on him. Percy doesn’t want to fight Bianca, but Bianca’s too caught up in her own baggage to consider turning away from the Titans (at least right now). Then comes the battle at the bridge. Since I basically replaced Etna Nakamura with Bianca in this story, SHE is the one that stabs Annabeth. And just like Ethan in canon, Percy makes a FOOL out of Bianca and probably would have killed her had the rest of the army not shown

(3/6) up. Once everyone regroups, Percy reflects on what happened and comes to a terrifying realization (as if all the canonical angst wasn’t enough); As skilled and powerful as Bianca is, he’s just so much better than her, and the only reason their fights are lasting as long is because he’s holding back. Not only that, but she’s completely unwilling to listen to any of his pleas to turn away, to the point where she will come after him in ways that’ll press just the right buttons for him to

(4/6) apeshit. Percy realizes to his horror that any future confrontation can only go 2 ways. Either A, he keeps holding back, pointlessly trying to get through to her, and she kills him, or B, something prompts Percy to stop holding back and he kills her. Percy, who wants to save Bianca without hurting her, is drowning in anxiety. That is, until Nico shows up (who, as a reminder, comes back early after giving Hades an ultimatum). Percy now realizes he has an Option C to gamble with;

(5/6) Bianca may be willing to stubbornly keep going and hurt Percy, but she would never, *NEVER* hurt Nico. And Nico knows Bianca better than anyone else and understands what she’s feeling. Percy can’t talk her out of leaving Kronos, but Nico can. And of course, the gamble pays off. While the siblings do have a fight, Bianca can’t bring herself to go all-out, and Nico is able to gradually get under her skin by appealing to her morality (so, yeah, Nico vs Bianca in this AU is pretty much

(6/6) Luke vs Vader in Return of the Jedi minus the lightsabers)

YES WELCOME BACK YOUR AU IS SOOO WONDERFUL!!! its making me think about the afterwards too. i'm not sure where you're thinking of heading w this after the nico & bianca fight but i kind of wonder,,, is she gonna pull a nico? like eventually when nico somehow gets under her skin & manages to at least urge her to pull away from the titans, will bianca essentially become a bit of a wild card like nico did? (i dont remember if you addressed this in the first set of asks about your amazing au, so if you did i apologize.) and what kind of price would the gods make her pay for this? like would she face smth similar to alabaster (who was shunned from camp cuz the gods were afraid he'd eventually turn his own siblings in the hecate cabin - at least that's what i think happened; haven't read the alabaster story in a while)? and cuz nicos associated w her, would nico also end up going down the similar path he does in canon where he goes rogue and isn't seen around camp for a while? ALSO if nico does follow a similar path that he did in canon, we can't forget he was at camp for a few weeks before he left again - so how would bianca feel about that? would she be happy for him? id imagine that shed be morel like, "the gods have still done nothing for us, nico. im not sure why youre still associating yourself with a camp that's only going to shun us out again" but she doesnt really act out for him; she respects his decision but still doesn't like them. i think it would be so interesting after the big fight that even after nico reaches to her morals & convinces her to stop fighting for the titans she just eventually leaves and nico goes looking for her only to find that she's gone again.

there is so much to unpack w this au and it is so so good anon!! im not even sure my response is doing it justice but i think its amazing. im so glad you decided to share it w me its truly a masterpiece and you have such an amazing mind. i genuinely hope you get to make it someday i just KNOW its going to be revolutionary.

#i am also very sorry for getting to this very late #anon tag #asks #bianca di angelo #nico di angelo #percy jackson #riordanverse #rick riordan

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amchara · 3 years

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Road to Hell (Wait for Me, I’m Coming) Part Two - Kit / Ty Hadestown AU

(Part One)

Ty rubbed his face tiredly, as he stared at another chicken-scratch parchment in the Unseelie Court’s library. He looked up and saw that Dru was fast asleep, gently snoring into her crossed arms, while Anush was dazedly flipping through pages of a huge leatherbound book. Mark had left a while ago, muttering something about getting some food for them but he hadn’t returned yet.

Ty looked down at his research, the collected notes he had written over the last day and a half and suddenly it seemed pitiful, compared to the task ahead. Ty could feel the panic rising, his chest tight and he concentrated on the feel of the rough paper underneath his fingertips. He had to get Kit out of Hell and he was taking notes, like he was back in the Scholomance and this was an assignment, instead of… instead of the most important fucking thing in the world.

He hadn’t told Kit how he felt yet. They had only just re-entered each other’s lives over the past two months and were still doing a wary dance as they relearned each other’s steps after three years apart.

There had been a hesitant scene in the L.A. Institute’s atrium when Kit had strolled in, almost as if he had never left, all sunshine gold hair, eyes the colour of a clear autumn sky, and a husky voice with just the slightest hint of an English accent.

There had been the angry, sparse time when Helen had sent them on a patrol together and they had strode along in miserable silence until Kit had finally stopped him and asked where Livvy was- and Ty had snapped back at him, the wound still raw, that he was trying to make amends for everything he’d done but he’d had to do it alone and he wasn’t ready to talk about it. The fragile moment when Kit’s face had crumpled briefly and he told Ty he was sorry he had left and that Ty had had to do it alone. And the appearance of the Raum demons a minute later, interrupting them- but then the glimpse of how it could be, as Kit had stopped him after the attack and insisted on drawing the iratze on Ty’s forearm, his face a study of concentration as they sat in the car before driving back to the Institute.

There had been fleeting, glorious moments in the training room when they had sparred, the pretence of combat a freeing sensation for Ty, as he felt able to finally touch Kit and the look Kit had given him, his breath an uneven whisper on Ty’s collarbone after he pinned him to the floor, almost helping Ty make his decision. But it hadn’t been enough - and the agonising choice of whether to knock - and still being a coward and walking away, almost too quickly, from Kit’s door.

And then that moment in the clearing. When Kit had done the stupid, honourable Herondale thing and sacrificed himself for the rest of them. Ty didn’t think he’d do the same if the situation was reversed - but then again, he was a Blackthorn.

From far away, he could hear a tearing, ripping sound and he came back to himself, noting the confetti of yellow parchment floating down to the ground around him, as he paced back and forth, paper strewn around him and his hands moving almost mechanically as he shredded his carefully taken notes.

Anush looked over at him, finally noticing Ty’s pacing and his eyes widened. And just then, Mark re-appeared in the doorway, carrying a large tray. He let out a curse as he saw Ty, almost knocking over the tray in his hurry to put it down. He crossed the room quickly to stand in front of Ty, gentle as he placed his hands over his brother’s as he clasped them a firm grip. This time, Ty let him in and he drew in a few deep, shuddering breaths as he let the small remains of paper drop.

“It’s all right,” he told Mark. “I have them all memorised.”

Mark nodded. “It’s wise to not leave the notes to Hade unguarded,” he said. He paused. “Although perhaps a bit unkind to the brownie cleaners - but no matter, I’ll arrange to speak to them.”

There was a stretch of silence. “I’m leaving tomorrow morning,” Ty said. “I can’t wait too long- we don’t know if time moves differently in Hades compared to the rest of Faerie and I can’t risk it.”

Mark’s eyes searched Ty’s face - not seeking eye contact but a different kind of reassurance. He seemed to find it, and he dropped Ty’s hands. “Then we’ll prepare to go together - you’re not going alone,” he said. A chorus joined in - a rousing if slightly terrified response from Anush, and a sleepy affirmation from Dru, who appeared to have just woken up.

Ty felt a brief moment of terror that he was bringing more people into what his research told him was likely a suicide mission… but the ice cold shiver of memories and Livvy’s pleading, drained face swam into view and he swallowed his protests. He didn’t think he could go through it alone again.

—

The ivory keys of the grand piano were always immaculately polished and Kit wondered whose job it was to clean them. His job was to play the music and he thanked - well, it wasn’t God and it wasn’t the Angel Raziel - but he thanked his lucky stars that he had picked up some basic songs from Jace the previous summer when he had visited the New York Institute, and that Jem had considered learning to read music by sight an essential part of a well-rounded education, alongside Kit’s Shadowhunter training and mundane school.

In contrast to the bright electric fluorescence that lit the warren of overly warm machinery-filled rooms that Kit had started to refer to as Hadestown, Persephone’s conservatory was different, with its faded white, latticed walls and high glass ceilings letting in the smallest fraction of outside light.

It reminded him of where he had lived with Jem, Tessa and Mina - in… C- In Cir- Kit’s mind stuttered. He didn’t know how long he had been here - the days were starting to blur together and he was worried he was starting to forget more than just the little things.

He stared down at the piano keys as the large ornamental clock on the wall struck eleven. Like clockwork precision, Persephone waltzed in, her movements sultry but sulky as always. She threw some new music books at Kit and he caught them awkwardly, balancing them on his lap.

“These ones - I don’t care which one you play first today,” she said, sitting down on the long fainting couch across from him, her black hair spilling over the white satin fabric as she rested her head. Kit tried not to stare at her deep decolletage, which was prominently framed by the tight red dress she was wearing. She noticed as he turned away and her gaze was hungry as she looked at him.

Kit looked down as he chose a music book and blindly opened it to a first page he saw. He started playing, a crooning jazz number singing out underneath his fingers. He didn’t know if it was because he was in Faerie or the spell he could feel he was under but he was a much better musician here than in the mundane world. The tight, lost look on Persephone’s face began to relax as the melody echoed in the conservatory.

As he finished the first song and began another, his movements almost automatic, Kit allowed himself to think again, of escape - of returning to the land of the living - to his family, to the Shadowhunter institutions he was slowly becoming accustomed to again, to… Ty. To what might be between them, although he had almost strangled that hope, locked it away tight and deep inside his heart. What they had resurrected - if that word could be used - given previous circumstances was almost a miracle, Kit thought, hard fought for and one that he hadn’t been about to throw away on foolish too-soon declarations of love. Even so, when he had seen that faerie arrow aimed straight at Ty’s heart, he hadn’t hesitated. He might not be ever able to tell Ty how he felt but at least he had been able to show it in his actions, he mused.

And he wasn’t about to give up on leaving this hellhole, although each unrelenting day in this dull, dark and depressing place of dust and hollow-eyed workers pulled at that hope. But he clung to his memories - to the now-dimly lit memories of the outside world. Of his love for a black-haired, grey-eyed boy with his sharp intellect and fierce love of his family, who saw the world in a different light than most, and was - had been willing - and maybe, might be willing again to share it with Kit.

The last note rang out as he finished the song and he drew his hands back, muscles aching. He had been playing for nearly an hour. In the sudden silence, Persephone let out a ragged sigh.

“Who is the love that you play for, boy?” she said, her voice ancient and rough. She rose from the couch and crossed the floor, her dress swishing across the smooth marble. “I have heard many love songs in my years… but yours is one that I haven’t heard in an eon. Tell me their name.” Her green eyes glistened with unshed tears.

But Kit remained silent. He knew instinctively if he said Ty’s name, he would lose it. He shook his head, his lips pressed together.

Persephone narrowed her eyes, and she reached out, as if to stroke his brow. Kit evaded her and stood up. He had been coming to play for her for several times now, and he had started to learn her ways. He needed a distraction. “I saw that crack in the wall- is that new, Persephone?” Kit lowered his voice as he gestured across the room. “I know you’re a captive as much as I am. Let me help you- we can escape together and then I will tell you.”

Persephone’s laugh was as dry as a winter’s wind as she sized him up. “Oh, that’s adorable, my sweet-” she said. “But I made my choice long ago and it’s--” her eyes suddenly moved past him. “It’s the love I deserve,” her voice suddenly was filled with honey and springtime.

Kit knew that Hades had arrived, and he tried to quell the fear rising in him as he turned around.

The man - fae - god or whatever he was - was standing in the doorway, casually watching them.

“Leave him,” he said in his deep voice. “I desire your company.”

Persephone swept past Kit without another word and draped herself across Hades. “Of course my darling- I am here. What shall we do?”

Hades took a moment to whisper into her ear and Persephone looked uncomfortable but let out a deep, throaty chuckle. “Of course.”

Hades smiled, with a devilish twist and he pulled her away, starting down the hall.

But then he stopped and looked back at Kit. “Your shift here has ended - get back on the assembly line.”

Kit looked down at his rough worker’s uniform, smeared with rust and dust and he forced himself to nod evenly - he knew from past experience that it was unwise to argue with Hades.

Hades’ firelit eyes swept over him. “And once that is over - come see me in my office.”

And at that, Kit knew that he was in trouble. Hades had summoned him twice since his arrival to his office, after the initial contract signing. Each time afterwards Kit had found himself weak and gasping on the floor outside, his mind blank and unsure of what had passed behind the walls of the office. Nothing good, he thought grimly - and that was likely the cause of his increasingly fuzzy memory recall.

He needed to escape and soon. He nodded again and Hades left with Persephone. Kit started to make his way to the factory floor. On his way out of the conservatory, he bumped into a small, bird-framed girl with a luminous beauty and whose too-large eyes must have been lively once but were now faded and glazed over with the thousand yard stare that all Hades’ workers had. That he might soon have. “What’s your name?” Kit asked the girl, trying not to sound desperate.

She looked up at him. “I- Eu- I…” she looked puzzled and sad. “I don’t know.” she said.

Kit felt a stab of despair.

Tag list: (let me know if you want to be added / removed!)

@jesse-is-spiraling @dontmindmyshadowhunting @sandersgrey @thechangeling

#kitty fanfiction #tsc fanfiction #kit herondale x ty blackthorn #kit herondale #ty blackthorn #my fanfic

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abruisedmuse · 3 years

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I came across your acotar blog and saw you take prompts... mine is a little evil so if you want to ignore it then feel free :) So I had a headcanon that Feyre and Rhys' next kid was a girl. Nyx adores his little sister to bits too. When she comes of age, during a court ball, Tamlin sees her and decides he wants to claim her as his - especially since she looks so much like her mother (but with her father's powerful gifts)... so he steals her away to spring court. Nyx is devastated at losing his sister to *him* (knowing what he put his parents through). Like maybe Fayre, Rhys and Nyx have to rescue her - or maybe it turns out that their daughter is Tamlin's mate (I did say it was evil so sorry!!).... Anyway, this HC is cursed but I needed to share it with someone who loves ACOTAR. lol I asked someone else and realised they no longer like ACOTAR and hadn't posted since '19 *facepalm*

I'm gonna answer this incase anyone wants to take a spin on this. If its okay with you nonnie. I ship feysand. I adore Nyx but I'm not to a point where I can dedicate the time I need to for something like this. I also am not a Tamlin fan so writing him willingly lol

I do wanna weight in my thoughts. Starting with I don't think this is evil or cursed at all! I think this is a great drama filled idea. A little weird given Feyre and Tamlin's past but hey! I'm sure it's not the only time it's happened. I mean fae are immortal and this can't be the only time something like this happened.

Anyway, this kinda has a Hades and Persephone vibe so I'm for it. Sorry I don't have a name for her lmao. This more like an overview of an idea.

Imagine Tamlin being completely shook that Feyre is there only it's not Feyre when he sees her upclose. There's a slight purplish hue to her eyes not that of Rhys or Nyx but enough for him to know.

He takes her for a reason (an incident happens at the ball, he hasn't seen night court in years and thinks this is a ploy or a spy situation he takes her to question, simply takes her out of curiosity)

Some point she tries to escape, but she doesn't known the dangers that haunt the Spring Court. She's heard of course but it's different to be against them. Tam senses it and goes after her. Perhaps this is a mate moment where he realizes. Or not. Yeah let's say he feels a pull. Either way she's hurt and he needs to take care of her.

It's weird for him because she's so much like Feyre. It's stirring wounds, distant memories he long since buried but never healed from. He mutters something about her being too much like Feyre. She questions and pushes. He pulls well a Tamlin aka they argue and he leaves.

They don't see much of each other the next few days. Until he checks on her she asks about her mother, as a human. She apologizes for pushing but shes simply curious of her mother before the change. She wants to know about her being human.

He sighs and something in him caves. He doesn't know why but he tells her of his Feyre as a human. In this talk he assesses her bandages from the attack with gentleness speaks with kindness. Something he never does. It opens up a weird trust between them.

They talk more over the weeks leading up to Summer Solstice. Tam pulls a scene similar to one with Feyre in acotar..freaks out and leaves. She follows and pushes and pushes.

"Let it go." Tamlin snarls

"Have you learned nothing? I never let anything go."

They go away. Far away from the celebration and fight it gets ugly and Tamlin just goes off on his feelings about UTM and since then. She doesn't know what to think about it, so she let's him go. All she's told her life wasn't a lie, but one sided. They were her mothers views. Her mother, didn't seem to notice how deeply he suffered and still is. How terrified he was that she never came back. But she also knows the bad things, like Tamlin locking Feyre away.

Watching him leave she realizes she that she has feelings. Deep feelings for Tamlin and it doesn't make sense because he was her mother's lover. But she can't help heart and she can't, won't let him suffer in pity. So her heart guides her steps leading to his room. Something like this happens when he opens the door.

"Why did you lock her up against her will? My mother. Do you regret it?"

"It's complicated."

"It's not."

"Why are you pushing this?"

"Because I want. No. need to know." Her hand lays over his fist curled into the door frame. "Please Tamlin."

Their eyes meet and he can't deny her. He gestures for her to step inside. His rooms are scarce. Not much beyond furniture she holds her tongue about it.

"I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I was protecting her...."

He goes on to speak disturbing thoughts Amarantha placed in his head made true by visions Rhysand put in there. He knew they were false but still once there he couldn't let them go. Every time he looked at Feyre he saw those visions, Everytime he looked at Feyre he heard the crack of her neck. He was terrified of someone coming to get her.

"I do regret it. Had I not perhaps she'd be here still."

She nudges his arm, "then I wouldn't.'

He grins at the flooring before looking at her. Realizing all the grief and heartache from Feyre was all for this. For her. Feyre was never his, she was.

"When Lucien." He swallowed thickly another person he wronged. "Returned speaking of Feyre with Rhysand I think I knew then what it meant. I was driven by jealously and anger then."

They talk more and kiss. It gets hot and heavy but interrupted and she leaves.

Feyre, Rhys, and Nyx show the next day. It gets ugly between Rhys and Tamlin when Rhys smells his daughter off Tam, Feyre gets angry too. Nyx finds and takes his sister. She fights the entire way. Rhys tells Tamlin if he goes after her there will be punishment. Tamlin sees a glimpse of her kicking and fighting in Nyx's grasp reaching for Tam. Her eyes pleading.

The bond snaps in place as she disappears.

Feyre and Rhys try to tell her how terrible Tamlin is and she gets it and understands but tries to get them to understand him. They won't..feyre claims he's charmed her its not real. She doesn't believe her. They forbid her from leaving. She tries leaving and is caught. Now she's locked in her room and she's crying.

Annnnd this is where my thoughts stop lmao. All I know after this is Tamlin does go after. Reveals they're mates and hea. But not before Rhys and Tam fight it out

#Tamlin #feysand #nyx #acotar oc #now that I typed it out #or most of it #i kinda want to do it #what have you done nonnie #ask #answered #anon #plunny

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graysmiles-world · 3 years

Text

Depths of Insanity

so i was feeling pretty angsty, but i’m too tired to come up with something new, so here’s a oneshot i wrote based on a previous tumblr post of mine.

find the ao3 link here, and the tumblr post here

TW: major char death, suicidal ideation, and blood

Summary: In a fit of strength, Percy was able to pull up Annabeth while she was dangling over the edge, her feet reaching down into Tarturas. However, Percy then slipped, falling alone into the darkness.

Answering the question: What if Percy fell into Tartuaras alone?

Your memory is a monster. It summons with will of its own. You think you have a memory, but it has you."- John IrvinsIt

It was so sudden, so quick, that Annabeth didn't even have time to call out before her chin hit the stone.

Her feet were dangling over the edge, the web that was wrapped around her foot pulling her into the abyss. It was if as if the darkness itself was creeping forward, slowly consuming Annabeth as she hung on.

Percy was holding her hand, keeping her tethered to the sunlight, to him. But he was grunting and his forehead was beaded with sweat.

“Percy," she breathed. "It's okay." Tears dotted her eyes. Her fingers were slipping, falling away from his.

Sacrifices, beautiful sacrifices. The voice from the pit mused. Annabeth knew that she was crying, tears now flowing down her cheeks.

She didn’t think she would die like this, she had been so happy when Percy had appeared above her. Was that only moments ago? It felt like hours.

Seconds felt like minutes as if her mind knew that her life was ending soon and was trying to make it last as long as possible.

”No!" Percy said, his voice raw. "No!"

Annabeth desperately wanted to assure him that it’s okay. That everything will be okay. But the words got caught in her throat, blocking her ability to breathe as well as speak.

With a cry and a final bout of strength, Percy swung her up and over the edge, the web on her ankle-breaking. But the momentum made him slip, the stone cracking under him.

Annabeth felt her body hit the ground and her throat cleared. She was alive and safe. But when a strangled cry came from behind her, she knew something was wrong.

Percy fell before Annabeth could even move. His figure disappeared in the darkness. It wasn’t like how the darkness pulled her, slow and painfully. His fall was quick, only with a flash of a tanned hand reaching up before he disappeared from her view. It was as if he was never there.

The sound that Annabeth made was inhumane, it came out of the deep crevices of her gut, bursting out of her chest.

"Percy!" She screamed, falling to her knees. Her hands grasped the edge that she was just dangling off of.

Kneeling in the same place that Percy just was. He wasn't even there long enough to warm the stone, it as cold and inhumane as it was when she was laying on the ground, thinking of how to trick Arachne. But now, Arachne was in the pit, with Percy.

She screamed so loud that her voice left her, so loud that Percy must have heard it, no matter how deep in the earth he was.

Annabeth was restrained before she could jump in herself. Every single one of the other demigods had to pull her, still kicking and scratching and trying to get back to where Percy had just fallen.

"He'll die!" She cried. "He'll die!"

She had to go back, she had to go and save him. She had to go and tell him that she was sorry and that she loved him.

We’re together. Percy had said. Oh, how Annabeth wished that to be true.

She stood at the railing of the ship. Was it only that morning when she and Percy went around Rome?

Her fingernails have been bitten to the buds, now digging into the wood so hard that blood smeared when she moved.

The Athena Parthenos was supposed to protect them.

What complete and utter bullshit.

Piper appeared a little while later, holding a mug of hot chocolate.

“Here,” she said. Her voice was soft, and she looked at Annabeth as if she was made of glass. Annabeth wanted to scream at her, to tell her to stop with the pitying looks and soft voices.

She wanted noise. She wanted someone to make a joke and everyone to laugh. She wanted to pretend that Percy was still there. That if she didn’t turn around, he would be there - laughing. That if she didn’t turn around, he’d be fighting a monster or smiling with that stupid crooked grin.

When Annabeth did nothing but stare at her with an ugly frown, Piper left the hot chocolate on the railing next to her. On top of the smeared blood.

The last time she drank hot chocolate, it had been in New Rome.

It felt like dust was rolling atop her tongue, so she spit it out, and for good measure, chucked the mug overboard too.

It splashed and fell under the waves. Another pang hit her as she was reminded of Charleston. Of when she threw her dagger into the harbor and Percy appeared as if he’d been summoned.

Annabeth stared at the rolling waves for another hour before she knew for certain that Percy wasn’t going to appear.

The days continued in silence. Whenever Annabeth left her room, she was met with empty smiles and pitied gazes. Nico told her regularly that he felt Percy's life force, but with it came the same unsaid warning.

Don't get your hopes up, they were all saying. He may not survive.

But she knew he was lying. She had overheard him whispering to Hazel about they needed to keep her hopes up so she’d be more likely to help

The only thing he hasn’t lied about was Percy was one of the most powerful demigods, and if anyone could make it - it was him. He said it carefully, thinking that if said too fast - Annabeth would suddenly break down.

Annabeth did break down, she cried all that night from the comfort of her room. The next morning, everyone saw the eyebags that hung from her eyes, dragging them down.

The team slowly fell apart. Annabeth was the glue that had dried up. She just didn’t find the strength to care, let them take the mantle for once. She did her work quietly and efficiently, no one dared defy her.

When they finally did arrive at the House of Hades, Annabeth was forced to wait until Hazel could clear up the passage.

So she fought, and holy gods, she fought with everything she had. She clawed, she bit, she fought with every bit of anger that had been building up inside her since the pit grabbed a hold of Percy and pulled him down.

When the battle was done, she was tired and bleeding. Her arm was definitely broken and she had to limp to the others. But, when she caught sight of Percy - all her energy was repaired.

He was bleeding and bruised, dirt-covered him from head to toe. A groan escaped him every few moments, and she didn’t like the wheezing that accompanied it. But she just waited for him to wake, pushing his hair away from his face. When he opened his eyes, Annabeth felt her breath catch in her throat.

She was only able to see her own broken reflection in his gaze, his eyes darkening from seafoam to a hurricane. But when he whispered: "Annabeth?" in a scratchy voice and smiled, a weight lifted off her chest.

There he was, there was her Seaweed Brain.

She had sobbed and he had too. But that was okay because he was okay. Everything was okay.

They were together.

When they got back to the ship and things started returning back to how it was before, Annabeth noticed little things that began to pile up.

Whenever Percy struck down a monster, watching it crumble to dust, his eyes were a little too bright, smile a little too gleeful. His anger reigned unchecked. Sewage water ran through the hallways constantly. If he was alone, more often than not, his eyes would flash and the others would scramble to leave.

When Annabeth was with him, she would touch him slowly, like water lapping his skin. First a few fingers, then a palm, then after a moment - a hug. Percy would unravel slowly and carefully only when he knew that Annabeth was there to catch him.

Every friendship that he had formed slowly crumbled, his anger overtaking everything else. But sometimes, he would crack a joke and the broken pieces of her heart would start to be pieced back together.

Annabeth still prayed to the gods for him to be okay, to get better. Because her Percy was still there, in between the fits of madness, he was there. He made jokes and smiled in his lopsided smile and would wrap her up in his arms like he never wanted to let her go.

It wasn't until a few days later that Annabeth realized that Percy wasn't okay, and may never be again.

A flock of harpies had appeared on one of the nights that Percy was patrolling. (He had insisted that he was better and needed some normalcy back in his life, so Annabeth let him with a rueful smile and a nod. His grin at that had been worth it.)

When Annabeth had walked upon the deck that early morning, she was met with the convulsing bodies of a flock of harpies, slowly crumbling to dust. Percy was standing above them, just watching and listening to their anguished cries. It was like a broken piece of the wood railing came up and stabbed her in the gut. Her hands went to her stomach, where she was sure the wound was, where the cries of the monsters dug deep into her skin. Percy just stood there, the hurricanes in his eyes swirling with a vengeance, staring at the harpies as they cried for death.It wasn't until Annabeth looked at him with tears in her eyes and a broken " Percy," that he let them die. Annabeth cleared her throat and just stared at him, wondering if this was just imposter in his clothing.

They didn't tell the others about that morning.

Annabeth started sneaking into Percy's room at night. They'd sit his cot, heads resting against each other.

He'd tell her about what happened, how he fell into the Cocytus. How he thought of her, of their life together. He spoke about Achlys, how he poisoned her so badly she turned into a shadow of herself. How he convinced Bob and Damsaen to help him at the heart of Tarturas. How he didn't want to die.

Annabeth would be terrified and scared when he spoke. But the way that his head was nestled between her shoulder and neck, and how he clasped her hand as if he was afraid she would leave made the guilt curl around her heart and stay there.So she would sit and listen quietly, trying desperately to understand the boy next to her. To find pieces that she remembered and attach them to him. They would get through this, together.

Percy would slowly fall asleep, drool collected at the corner of his mouth. And Annabeth would just get an overwhelming feeling of love for the sleeping boy in front of her. She would press a kiss to his hair and then wet it with her own tears.

Annabeth fell, the wound on her leg bleeding red, it bubbling to gold as it hit the dirt. Before she rose to go back to her mother, to go back to help with the fight, she caught sight of Percy. He and Poseidon were fighting Thoon.

Percy turned towards her, she saw him - her Percy - for a moment in the madness. But it was gone in an instant, he raised his sword - pointing at something behind her. Annabeth turned and saw Periboia lumbering towards her. She stood and grabbed her dagger from where it laid a few feet away.She was able to dart around Periboia trunk legs even with her cut leg. She grabbed a stray piece of clothing and pulled herself up, grasping at anything and everything that could give her leverage. She climbed the giant like a spider, pulling herself onto Periboia's shoulder. Percy called out again and Annabeth was met with the giant's hand. She was swatted off like a nat.

Annabeth hit the ground with a thud. When her vision cleared, she was met with the sight of Thoon swinging his cleaver towards Percy. Percy rose Riptide to block it, but something happened and it flew from his grasp, hitting the dirt. Ares' curse. Annabeth knew immediately.

His weapon will fail when he needs it most.

Thoon sliced Percy's face. Thankfully, it wasn't deep enough to seriously hurt him, due to Percy's fast reflexes, but Annabeth was able to see his teeth through his cheek when he cried out in pain.

Annabeth let out a scream so close to the one on that cold stone floor, struggling to her feet.

Thoon hit away Percy like a fly, causing him to crash into the wall and fall with a pitiful thump. Her throat closed up when he didn’t move. But the ground began to shake and the sides of the stone walls to crumble. Dust rained down.

He rose, severely favoring his left, but no less powerful than he was moments before. Despite what the giants had claimed earlier, Percy was creating an extremely large earthquake right where Gaea was to be sacrificed to.

He glared at Thoon, his hurricane eyes becoming reality. The cut on his face missed his eye by a centimeter, sliding up his forehead before meeting his hairline. His teeth were gleaming, seen through the hole in his cheek. Blood dripped down his face and fell from his chin. The giant fell, the added weight of a falling giant only amplifying the already terrifying earthquake.

”The Earth goddess it awake!” Eurymedon cried out.

Percy gently touched his cut, the pain probably setting in. When he realized what had happened, his rage only grew.

Annabeth grabbed at the dirt, digging her hands into the mud underneath to stop herself from rolling around. Poetic really, clinging onto the very thing she was fighting against while trying to protect herself from the person she loved most.

All around, the giants were falling and failing about, but Percy was still focused on Thoon. With a yell of rage, he held up his hand as if grabbing something from the air, and then threw it down. Thoon let out a scream of agony, dust and ichor pouring from his ears, nose, mouth, eyes. The giant cried out in pain.The sight was too similar to the morning on the deck, so Annabeth turned away. When Periboia was finally only dust before her, she looked over.Poseidon was standing over where Thoon previously laid. He looked up to his son and even though Annabeth couldn’t hear what he was saying, his expression was one of heartbreak.

Annabeth knew that expression. She saw it every time she looked at her reflection.

When the battle was over and the gods and demigods were gathered, Percy was left alone. His gaze was on the wall behind them. Piper silently handed him some ambrosia that he chewed quietly. But Annabeth saw the way his jaw clenched, it didn't taste like his mother's cookies anymore.

His wound slowly healed, his skin melding together before their very eyes, but it still glimmered pink in the light. Dried blood surrounded it.

His aura had changed too, soured. Couch Hedge would look at Percy and then look away. His father just stared with a sad expression.

Zeus was the only one who met his gaze. His eyes holding flashing lightning. It was obvious he wanted Percy killed, but when Percy finally met Zeus’ gaze, Zeus looked away.

It didn't happen for a while. But one day, after Gaea's demise, Annabeth woke up and she knew.

Percy had left.

She didn’t blame him. But she knew, she knew deep in her heart that when he returned they will be on opposite sides. The moments between the madness have faded, becoming shorter and shorter with each day. The day they met again, the insane would have clawed into his skin and clung there. And he would accept it, let it burrow deep in his skin and mind.

An itch started at the back of her mind, whisperings of a situation that went this exact way - years earlier. She just didn't know if it would end the same way.She didn't know if he would show up with gold or hurricane eyes. She didn't know which one she would prefer.

She did not see him for a long time, but her memories of him never faded. Her gaze would wander suddenly and without warning when a memory from the deep abyss of her mind came forward. Those memories were terrible because whenever she thought of him, she thought of what he had become. She thought of the yell of rage and the earthquake. She thought of that morning on the deck.

Others started to leave her alone, seeing that she staring off into nothing more often than not. It was worst than when Hera stole him all those months ago because Annabeth knew that she could find him then. If Annabeth went off and searched for Percy, she would never find him. Not even if she scoured the earth for the rest of her life, he was gone. And that made her have to blink away the tears from her eyes.

But when she was alone at night, sitting on his bunk in the Poseidon cabin, she would call forward the sweet ones. The ones from before he was taken. Before each thought was lined with sadness. She would cradle the sweet memories in her hands, refusing to cry in case she tainted them.

She’d only relive them in the confines of his cabin when she could look around and see things exactly how he left them. When she could look under his bunk and see old coke cans. When she could open his drawers and rock back t-shirts would be staring up at her. She could look over to fountain’s constant bubbling.

Sometimes she would fall asleep, her nose pressed against his pillow. Sea salt and lemon. Him and her.

She once passed the Hypnos cabin and thought about wandering inside. Of falling on a bed and never waking up, of reliving the sweet memories until her mind and body withered to nothing. But a breeze moved her hair and the moment had passed.

They heard whispers, of a new threat on the horizon. And once more - Annabeth knew.

Despite the ache in her gut telling her that it's not true, that the 12-year-old boy who smiled at her so hopefully before that first capture the flag wouldn't do that. That the boy who whispered comforts to her in the back of that old trunk that smelled of hay with Oreos in his teeth couldn't do that.

But just like before, Annabeth knew.

Months, maybe even a year later, time was up. She couldn't ignore the whispers any longer.

There was a battle approaching. Wide eyes and fearful words made up camp as they heard who was leading it. More looked at her with pity, like how the other seven had looked the days and weeks after he fell.

And then finally, the day came.

It was bloody and terrible and the entire time she was fighting, there was a phantom ache in her heart. There was an empty space next to her, the air still despite the incessant screams and cries because there was no witty comment to cover them up. No kiss at the beginning. No laughter with at her refute.

But in the end, she saw him.

Annabeth loved him. She never stopped loving him. And seeing him for the first time in what felt like forever, almost broke her.

Percy stood in front of her, close enough to touch. But she knew that she couldn't run up to him and threaten him. She knew he wouldn't bubble up with laughter when she did it. Those days were gone.

She stared into his broken eyes, praying for them to return to the original happiness. He still loved her, she knew for sure, because of the way he cried.

”Please, Annabeth," he pleaded. "Come with me."

Tears leaked from his eyes, the eyes that were still too dark. The eyes that were still shattered beyond repair.

His scar on his face was stark white, contrasting deeply with his tanned skin. Ares had given him that scar.

And at that moment, more than ever before, Annabeth loathed the gods.The gods had done this.

They had taken the loveable idiot who collapsed on the Big House porch all those years ago and turned him into this monster.They had done this to him. They ruined his life and hers.

And Annabeth wanted to say "yes." She wanted to take his hand and go away. To go with him and try to change the world for the better. Because she knew that that's what he thought he was doing. He honestly thought that the gods would destroy them, and he was trying to save them - to save her in his own twisted way. Because that is what the gods did, they took his mind and heart and twisted them into something so unidentifiable that she couldn't see the boy she fell in love with. She couldn't see the boy she would say yes to. When she blinked, she saw golden eyes and a scar so similar to Percy's.

Annabeth was 16 again. Luke was on the floor in front of Percy, begging for the dagger. But now it was Percy before her, staring at her with his sad, broken eyes, and white scar, begging for her to come with him. She could kill him. He would let her. Because he still loved her.

And Annabeth did. She thrust the dagger that killed Luke all those years ago into Percy's chest. She killed him with snot and tears running down her face, but she killed him. She couldn’t help but think of the boy she met with the crooked smile and seafoam eyes. She thought of the boy with the bubbly laughter and fierce loyalty.

She had tried to help him so much, her own pride stopping her from seeing that she couldn't save him. She had lost that chance when he disappeared into nothingness all that time ago.

This was the second boy she loved, the second boy she killed. The second boy who laid dying in her arms.

And while Percy's eyes cleared for the first time in such a long time, Annabeth sobbed. For she had just seen the boy she fell in love with for the first and last time.

She cried and sniffled, wiping her stray tears away from his face. And as he laid dying in her lap, she ran her fingers through his hair. A ghost of a smile appeared on his lips.

The blood pooled in her lap, staining her hands, her clothes. Her fingers smeared blood against his cheekbones, his eyelids. Along his scar.

She wished that he didn't bleed blood but rather sand. That he was just another monster that she killed and that the cracks in her palms were filling up with dust.

She wished that he bled rivers. That the Lethe or even the Styx was running through his veins. That the liquid that was pooling around them would take away her memories, would burn her into dust herself.

But the blood was blood, it was human. He was human. It dripped from her blade and Annabeth stared at her blood-stained, distorted reflection before she threw it as hard as she could.

He never wanted to die, she remembered. He had never wanted to die like a monster.

With the dead boy in her arms, Annabeth mourned. She mourned for the boy with the gleaming eyes and the warm hugs. She mourned for the boy she loved. For the little kid, she met when she was 12 with the crooked armor and smile.

And she thought of Luke. More specifically, his mother. Annabeth used to wonder if May Castellan still burnt the cookies and made the sandwiches even though they molded. Now she had her answer. Yes, May Castellan kept making the sandwiches and the cookies because she believed that one day, her little loveable boy would return home.

Because Annabeth would have never stopped waiting too, and she knew that.

Slowly, the others came. Bloody and bruised, cuts littering their body and limbs in casts, they came. All cried when seeing the boy in her arms.

Even those who have lost someone. Especially those who had lost someone.

They mourned the boy they all knew before he was forced into the darkness alone, and afraid.

Piper sat by Annabeth as they moved the body, not caring that the blood, Percy's blood would be stained to her just like it was to Annabeth.

Thalia wiped the tears from Annabeth's cheeks. She pressed her lips against Annabeth's skuall and didn't mention how they lost another piece of their family, she didn't have to.

Hazel sat on the other side of Annabeth, her cinnamon hair barely reaching Annabeth's ear. They didn't care that they didn't know him long, that the man who came to mind when they thought of Percy, was not Percy.

Because the boy with the broken eyes and crazy smile was not Percy. The boy who watched monsters wither in pain before killing them was not Percy.

She wanted to tell everyone that, that Percy wasn't the boy that he died as.

"I hate them," she cried. "I hate them, I hate them, I hate them."

She didn't care if Mr. D or Chiron heard. She didn't care if Zeus came down at that moment and smited her on the spot.

”I hate you!" She screamed to the sky. "You did this! You did this to him!" Tears streamed down her face.

No one else was talking, everyone just standing around with stained cheeks. Zeus didn't even dare turn the clear day stormy. The gods knew she was speaking the truth. Perhaps they even felt guilty. But guilt didn't Percy back. It didn't change the monster back to the boy with the seafoam eyes.

And Annabeth sat, surrounded by friends, crying over a dead boy for the second time in her life.

Every one of the seven that were left came up to her.

They left her stories, little moments when they first fell in love with Percy.

Annabeth didn't talk, but she listened. She sat and she listened and she cried.

But everyone left, one by one, leaving her alone once more.

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thegoodgayshit · 3 years

Link

Luz’s mother really doesn’t want to send Luz to camp. She knows once she leaves, there is no going back. But Luz has a knack for getting into trouble, and one day she stumbles into the same type of people her mother would have preferred she avoided. After helping Luz dissolve her high school bully into dust, Eda and Lilith know right away that this kid is just like them - a child of the gods. So Luz hops on a Pegasus and heads to Camp Half-blood, where she embarks on a dangerous quest that makes her both friends and enemies... and she might even save Olympus along the way.

Chapter Thirty-One: The Underworld and It’s Airport Security

She woke up in the lobby of a doctor’s office.

At least, that’s what it looked like. It was eerily quiet, with those plastic chairs with the huge armrests and people milling about. Some were sitting in chairs, a few standing near the bulletin board on the back wall. She saw a woman in a red coat, a man in a tie checking his watch, and a little boy holding a five dollar bill tightly in his hand. They just looked like perfectly normal mortals. Nothing out of the usual, but something about them put Luz on edge. She couldn’t place why.

There was no line for the receptionist, which Luz found odd.

She took a deep breath, and inhaled stale air, trying to remember what had just happened.

The portal. Saving Amity. Dad…

She still had Aletheia, which was resting on her finger. Luz checked her pockets. In her right was Hestia’s flame/lighter, and she ran her thumb over protectively. It was hers to carry from now on. In her other pocket, the one Hermes had been fiddling with, was a huge gold coin, with a circumference almost the size of her thumb, embezzled with the symbol of the Caduceus. She had no idea what she was going to do with that. Maybe it was an advance on a birthday gift?

In her back pocket, she pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, and when she opened it, her eyes widened. It was a circle with a line in the middle, and three flames above each section. Alador had given this to her. He’d said that Hestia was the balance between worlds.

Maybe if she ever saw him again, she’d have to tell him he’d been right. But based on her last interaction with Amity’s parents went, she doubted she’d be welcome back to the Blight manor.

“Next!”

Luz jumped. Somebody behind the receptionist counter was waving for her impatiently, and before she even realized what she was doing, she was stepping forward.

The man behind the counter was… even more off-putting than the people in the lobby. He was wearing a very expensive-looking Italian suit, and he had dark hair that was slicked back. When she walked up, he was tapping his foot, like Luz should have known to walk up quicker.

“Name?”

Luz paused. Should she reveal that? She had no idea where she was. But the tapping of his foot increased the longer she hesitated, so she just threw caution to the wind.

“Luz Noceda.”

He looked down at a paper in his hand, frowning. “I don’t see you on our list. What was your cause of death?”

“Cause of death?”

He looked up and his lips thinned. She got the feeling people asked that one a lot.

“Cause of death. I hate to break it to you, but if you’re here, it’s because you're dead. If you can’t remember how you died, and I know some mortals like to block that out, could you at least tell me where you were at your time of death?”

So that’s where she was. Some kind of in-between world between living and dying. Now that she looked back at the other patrons in the lobby, Luz was kicking herself for not picking up on it sooner. All the patients in the room were sickly pale and seemed to have a shimmer to them that she now recognized as the reason Luz had been so thrown off. They were all dead, and waiting for their turn to move on.

But was she dead too?

Luz had been fairly certain Hermes hadn’t killed her, but if she was being honest with herself, she couldn’t really remember how she’d gotten here.

She didn’t feel dead, but she took stock just to be safe. Her heart was still beating. She was still gross and exhausted from the battle on Mount Pelion. She was sweating. All good signs of being alive.

“I’m not dead. I mean, I don’t think I am.”

The man rolled his eyes, eyeing her up and down. “Look I deal with a lot of mortals like you-“ He suddenly stopped, his eyes widening the longer he looked at her. Luz figured he finally picked up on the fact that she wasn’t, in fact, dead. The surprise left his face, and it shifted back to one of disinterest.

“I can’t help you.”

“What do you mean, you can't help me?” Luz asked, peering over at the name tag on the counter. “Charon?”

His eyebrows lifted, and despite his blank face, Luz had a feeling he was pleased. “You got my name right. Most people think I have the same name as that gods forsaken horse… look, kid. You’re at the entrance to the Underworld. I don’t know exactly how or why you’re here, seeing as you’re dead, but I can’t let any of the living past this point. Policy rules and all.”

Luz frowned. What was she going to do now? Hermes hadn’t given her any kind of instruction on what to do when she got here, or where she’d even go. But she couldn’t just leave.

She wracked her brain, trying to think of everything she knew about the Greek Underworld. There was the king, the god Hades, and his wife Persephone… Charon was a familiar name, but she just couldn’t place where she’d heard it…

Then, she turned and saw that the little boy had gotten in line, the five dollar bill still clenched tightly in his hand. It clicked.

“You’re the ferryman to the Underworld.”

He nodded. “Yes indeed. And I’m on strict orders to only take the dead across the River Styx. So, I'm sorry, but you'll have to come back when you’re dead.”

“I can pay you.”

Charon hesitated, his eyes narrowing. “With what?”

“I’m not here for myself,” Luz said, finally understanding what Hermes had done. “I’m a daughter of Hermes, here on behalf of the Olympians on official business. I need to be on your next boat.”

She took out the coin, placing it confidently on the table. Charon’s eyes widened.

For a second, Luz thought he might refuse her, and she froze. She'd never even considered that Charon might not like her father or any of the other Olympians. But then, looking quickly around the room, he swiped the coin, standing up with a tight smile.

“Of course, daughter of Hermes. We’ll leave right away.”

Luz paused, turning to look at the little boy who was still waiting patiently for his turn. “Make sure you check him in too.”

Charon grimaced, but shrugged, waving him forward. The boy walked up and stood next to Luz, dropping the five in Charon’s hands. It was bright blue and plastic-looking. Canadian money.

“Name?”

“I'm Cooper!”

He huffed. “Well, we only have one of those on the list today. All right, come on then, follow closely behind this Hermes kid.” Then, under his breath, so low that Luz almost missed it, “Hades knows I don’t want that god on my bad side again.”

Charon led Luz and Cooper out of the lobby and into an elevator. Horrible 80’s music was playing when the doors finally opened, and Luz got smacked with an entirely new sight.

The Underworld.

Luz had seen it in her dreams a few times through the portal, and it was just as bleak and as terrifying as she remembered it being. The air was stale, and probably didn’t smell that great, but Luz had gotten used to Death Mist, so this was nothing. They were on a dock, coated in rotting wood and Charon led them onto a gondola with a few other souls, batting extras away as he started to push it off into a dark black river. The Styx.

When Amity had sworn she’d free Hestia, she swore on this river. Luz wondered if she’d still have fallen off the mountain if she’d been the one to cut the chains instead of her.

She looked back toward Charon and recoiled, almost falling into the water from her shock. Instead of a suit, he now wore a thick black robe. His face was sunken and skeletal like he'd been dead for several days.

Charon started to push the boat down the black river. The boat rocked, and Luz quickly sat down, her heart hammering in her chest. She was really here, and it was terrifying. She wished she wasn't alone. Willow might have put an arm around her shoulder reassuringly, and Gus would be spewing facts too fast for her to process any of this fear. Amity might have held her hand as the boat moved, and squeezed it to remind her that everything was going to be okay. Now that she'd gotten used to having her friends around, she really forgot how lonely it was to be alone.

Cooper took a seat next to her, seemingly oblivious to the terror around them, instead just watching the sights with awe.

“It's so amazing!” He whispered to her. Luz frowned. Maybe he’d hit his head before he died. Luz could think of a scroll of places better than this, including the dumpster shoot behind her Mami's apartment. But he couldn’t have been older than seven or eight, so Luz wasn’t going to be the one to break it to him.

“Yeah, it sure is,” she said, forcing a smile and hoping it wasn't a grimace.

“My mommy would love to live in a place like this,” he whispered to her, “it smells like Nana’s house by the beach. And the man pushing the boat looks just like my daddy. They have the same color hair and everything!”

Luz frowned, looking to Charon and back to Cooper. They looked nothing alike. While Charon looked like he haunted funeral homes, Cooper was blond and bright-eyed. And she hadn’t been to many beaches before, but she was certain they didn’t smell like this.

“Where’s your mommy, Cooper?”

“I dunno! She told me I was allowed to walk to the convince store and buy candy and pop.” Cooper said with a shrug, too busy leaning over the gondola towards the river to pay much attention to her.

He reached forward to stick his hand in the water, and Luz leaned forward to stop him, her gut screaming at her that it would not be good. Behind her, Charon shook his head.

“Don’t touch! You’ll burn your whole hand off.”

But as he said that, Luz touched his hand. Instead of feeling solid flesh, her hand passed right through the murky layer around him, and her whole world shifted. For just a moment, she saw things the same way he did.

Now, Charon was a tall, handsome, blond man in colorful bathing suit shorts and a white tank top. He was gently scolding Cooper, “Don’t touch! You might fall in!” Cooper pulled back, laughing in delight.

The Underworld was beautiful. Clear blue skies, the air clean and fresh. They were riding in a pontoon boat over a clear blue lake, and there were ducks chattering in the water near them. In the distance, she could see the shore. People waited, laughing and talking, standing near a freshly painted dock and a cozy-looking cottage.

She quickly pulled back her hand out of his mist, her shoulder blade hitting the side of the gondola. Then, she was back.

“Holy Hermes…” she muttered, blinking to stay focused. She was thrown off from not being able to grab his arm, but then she felt stupid. Of course she wouldn't be able to touch him. He was dead. Then she'd seen his vision... what in Zeus' name was that all about?

“Some mortals just can't handle seeing the world as it actually is,” Charon whispered to her and chills shot up her spine at the sound of his voice right near her ear. “For poor folks like this one… ones who’ve barely lived, they don’t deserve to be scarred like that. Not that it matters, anyway. He doesn’t need a judge to tell him where he’s going to end up.”

The gondola finally knocked against the shore, and Charon pointed to something in the distance. There, she got her first glance at the real entrance to the Underworld. Lines upon lines of spirits, separated into two lines to pass through what looked almost like airport security.

One line was moving so quickly, Luz could barely keep up. It was like there was no security at all for this line besides the metal detectors. It was marked as the “EZ” line. But the other was in a totally dead stop, marked as a line towards the Judgement Pavillion. Luz shivered when she heard barking, and saw a massive, three-headed Rottweiler eyeing each of the spirits walking through the metal detectors like he was just waiting to swallow one of them up.

Beyond that, Luz saw the Fields of Asphodel. It went on for what seemed like miles, and in the distance, she spotted a giant obsidian castle. The palace of Hades. To the left of the Fields, Luz flinched and looked away. It was the Fields of Punishment. She was fairly far away, but she could still hear the shouts of agony in the distance. Maybe it was best she didn’t dwell on it.

But just to the right of the Fields of Asphodel, Luz’s eyes widened. It was an actual gated community in the Underworld, with beautiful, thick, trees, and the sounds of people laughing and enjoying a barbeque. It was such a shock from what was on the other side of the pathway, that Luz almost didn’t want to tear her gaze away.

Elysium. Cooper would be in good hands.

Luz, however, would have to take the more daunting trek. First, she had to find Amity. And in a realm with billions of souls, she had no idea how she was going to do that.

Thanking Charon with a low whisper, Luz climbed out of the boat as it docked. She had no time to waste. Amity hadn’t been down here much longer than Luz had, and if she didn’t want to completely lose her trail, she needed to find her and quick.

As she waded through spirits, she was desperately looking anywhere for a splash of mint hair. She checked the entire EZ line, careful not to get too close to Cerberus before she finally accepted that Amity wasn’t anywhere in the wafts of moving souls. Then, it hit her.

Of course Amity wasn’t there.

She had always been an overachiever and prided herself on being the best of the best. It was stupid of Luz to ever think she’d willingly take the boring Fields of Asphodel for eternity when there was another option.

So, she started checking the line to the Judgement Pavilion. As she walked through, she heard some disgruntled murmurs from the souls and was quick to hold up her hands.

“I’m not cutting! I’m just looking for someone.”

That seemed to be pretty unusual because souls didn’t bother her much after that.

Luz was thanking every god she could think of that the souls in this section looked much more lively than the ones she’d seen in line for the Fields of Asphodel. These souls remembered who they were, and we're proud to get in line and be judged. She hoped that when she found Amity, she would be feeling the same way.

Gods, if only she could find Amity. She checked every soul, walking up and down the line for what felt like hours.

Then, she saw her. Her back was to Luz, a few souls ahead of her, and she looked exactly as she did right before she fell down the mountain. Her mint green hair was tied up in its usual style, her clothes were ragged and battle-worn, and her arms were crossed impatiently as she waited. Despite the familiarity, she, like the other souls Luz had seen, were coated in a thin mist and had that same off look about them, but it was still so obviously Amity and Luz’s heart just about shot out of her chest.

“Amity! Amity!!!"

She sprinted as fast as she could, and Amity turned her head, her eyes widening at the sound of her voice.

“Luz?”

Luz slammed into her, fully planning to wrap her arms around her, but instead only managed to lose her footing, and fall right through Amity. There was no vision this time as she slammed into the coarse sand of the Underworld, groaning. Right, Amity was dead. She wouldn't be able to touch her.

As she crawled to her feet, she felt disappointment wash through her. It wasn't fair. All she wanted to do was hug Amity. She was standing stiff behind Luz like she couldn't believe her eyes.

"Luz, is that really you?"

The disappointment faded to something else entirely when she heard her voice. It was just as it had been before she'd come to the Underworld. Her knee was stinging, and there was probably another hole in her leggings, but she couldn’t recall another time she’d been so relieved in her life. She stepped towards her, reaching out only to slowly remove her hand before it touched her face. It wouldn't work anyway.

“It's me. It's really me." She said, though she could barely believe her own eyes. "I... I thought I’d never see you again," she whispered, her heart hammering tightly in her chest.

“Luz, what are you doing here?” Amity breathed out, clearly just as shocked.

“Oh you know, just some of the usual quest stuff,” Luz said with a chuckle, and Amity recoiled in surprise. She eyes Luz up and down like she was looking for any signs Luz had changed.

“Another quest? I… I didn’t think I’d been down here that long…”

“What?” Luz asked, blinking. “No! It's the same quest I’ve been on this whole time. Amity, I’m here to take you back.”

Amity’s mouth dropped open, before closing and reopening multiple times. “Luz… I… I’m dead. I can’t just… I can’t just go.”

“But you can!” Luz insisted, reaching forward to take her hand. Her fingers passed right through, and she looked down, frustrated. Amity flinched, pulling her hand to her chest. “You’re not at the judging pavilion yet. You haven’t been entered into the Underworld officially. Amity, I’m here to fix this.”

“You can’t fix a prophecy, Luz,” Amity said with a stern shake of her head, even though her eyes were dark with sadness. “Look, all this is over. I… I died, yeah, but that’s how it was meant to be. I knew that, and I know you do too.”

“We were wrong. Amity, we’ve been wrong this whole time! Look, I met my Dad just after you…” Luz swallowed hard, and Amity looked away, biting her lip. Luz took a quick breath and shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. He told me that this wasn’t over. What closes on one side has to close on the other too. I’m here to make sure the portal stays closed for good, and I need you to help me. Please, Amity. Just trust me.”

Amity looked back at Luz, and something in her face shifted. She sighed, giving Luz a tiny smile.

“I can’t even die in peace, can I? Are you always going to be like this?”

Luz's heartbeat once in her chest, hard.

“Am I always going to be like what? Charming and intriguing?” Luz asked with a grin.

“No," Amity scoffed with a shake of her head. "I meant annoying and persistent.”

“Well, that depends. Are you going to step out of this line?”

Amity paused for another moment, looking down towards the judging pavilion with a thoughtful look on her face. After another moment, she stepped forward, gesturing for the soul behind her to move up.

“Alright, you've convinced me. I'm in. What’s the plan?”

#the owl house #lumity #luz x amity #Percy Jackson AU #shelby speaks

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ladysarahsakura · 3 years

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Bucky Barnes X OC Ember

Note: Ember is my OC character for Marvel and is the daughter of Hades and Persephone. I also do not own anything here but my own OC I hope you enjoy!

They met in 1940, Sarah worked in a small flower shop in Brooklyn that James “Bucky” Barnes and Steve Rogers chose to pop into that one afternoon. When James saw her, he couldn’t fight the urge to talk to her. He asked her for her help with picking out flowers for his mom and all Steve could do was smirk at his friend for fumbling his words at first. After making their purchases and paying, she told James to let her know how his mom liked them when he could. A week late, he caught her on her way home and James offered to walk her. He grinned when her cheeks bloomed a soft pink against her fair skin as she accepted. As they walked, the pair got better acquainted and learned they had similar interests. Bucky started slowly falling deeper and deeper for her as he watched her enthusiastically talk about her childhood. Once at her doorstep, he chose to ask her out to dinner next weekend and was ecstatic when she said yes. Over the next year, dinner dates turned into dancing, beach trips, picnics in the park, even to a few movies,. They were very much in love, more than once Steve would hear his best friend tell him, his mother and his siblings about how she was the one for him and that he wanted to marry her. By December though, the young lovers’ plans made a drastic change. The U.S had entered the fight over and Germany and Bucky had been drafted. Soon he was being shipped off to Camp McCoy in Wisconsin along with the other young men in his regiment. The week before his departure was heartbreaking for them. H promised to come back to her after the war was won and to write to her every single chance he got. She promised to wait on him and to keep an eye on his family and Steve until he returned. She gave him a small, leather-bound journal to use and said it was an early Christmas gift. He smiled softly at her with tears in his eyes as he grabbed hers, a small necklace with her birthstone as the pendant. On the day of his departure, he huggled Steve, his mom and his siblings goodbye and when Sarah handed him his bags, he pulled his girl into a deep kiss and repeated his promise to her and told her he loved her. He watched out his train car window until they were all out of sight. Sarah waited a full year and a half but was sadly called back home by her father before her soldier’s return home. When James came home and she was gone, Steve gave him the letter she told him to give him which said how much she loved him and how she would be back in Brooklyn before he got back from the war, gave a new mailing address and a promise to be there when he got home.

Sarah had a secret, a secret she was terrified to tell James, and that was who and what she truly was. Her birth name was Ember, her parents were greek gods- Persephone and Hades. She did wish to tell James the truth as they were slowly talking about spending their lives together, even if it would’ve cost her his love. She returned to the Underworld realm due to her father being swamped with new souls and paperwork due to the war overseas in the mortal realm. She returned to Brooklyn in 1945, only to learn Steve had taken part in a military experiment and became Captain America only to crash a plane into icy waters and couldn’t be found and that Bucky- her Bucky- was gone. She mourned with his family and helped them however they needed her to until once again she was called to the underworld, to mourn on her own time.

Fast forward to 2011, now a member of S.H.E.I.L.D, being told by Director Fury that Steve was alive. He put her in charge of helping him when he woke up which didn’t go as planned. After calming her old friend down, she explained everything including what she was and why she never told Bucky. He assured her that he would’ve loved her no matter what. She longed to see him again to know if that was true, little did she know she would get that chance.

2014, she was just as shocked as Steve and Natasha to find Bucky not dead but brainwashed by H.Y.D.R.A. An ability she possessed was mind-reading and memory recovery which can only be used through direct contact with the person wishing to have their memories recovered. As Bucky- now the winter solider- went to grab her, she twisted his human arm behind his back and slammed him to the ground, before her hand could reach the back of his headache had flipped them around, grabbed her by the throat with his metal hand and was about to hit her when he was knocked over by Sam Wilson. She didn’t join Sam and Steve going against Bucky when they encountered the winter soldier on the Triskelion but did assist Steve in Romania when they finally tracked down his location.

Present time after the blip so much has changed. Sam is now the new Captain America and Ember and Bucky finally had a moment of peace to catch up. His memories were still hazy about her but he knew she was important to him. Each passing day he remembered her more and more, mainly as the girl at the flower shop and the girl he took to dinner a week or so after. He trusted her wholeheartedly and once learning what she was and of the powers she possessed, he trusted her even more. She didn’t shy away from him, she wasn’t scared of him even after their violent meeting again after almost 60 plus years, she sided with him against her other friends, and now that Steve had retired, he spent almost every day he could with her. He loved the city but for once he took his therapist’s advice and moved out of Brooklyn. Instead of living with Sam, he moved to Pennsylvania which was where Ember was. In a two-bedroom cottage in the rural part of the state with an attached Morticia Addams style conservatory that housed all matters of plant life, was where she settled. Buck lived in a studio apartment in the neighbouring town which was only a few minutes away from her however he felt as if he belonged beside her. The two shared a usual breakfast and sat at her kitchen island when more memories of her flooded his mind. By this time she had already told him the truth of who she was as well as her parents and they had even met Bucky. As she reentered the kitchen from watering a few of her plants, she saw the look on Bucky’s face and grew concerned, “ You alright, Buck?” His gaze rested on the pendant that was around her neck, “ I-I gave that to you. In 1941 before I had to leave for training, didn’t I?” He sounded scared almost. His memories of him and Steve had come back in droves after being woken from the cryostasis and with Shuri and the other Wakandan scientists help. His only memory of her was being the girl from the flower shop as well as her truth she told him after he was woken up and Bucky internally panicked thinking he messed something up somehow. “Yes. You gave it to me as an early Christmas gift because you wouldn’t be there. Bucky, an ability I have is memory recovery did Steve or Sam tell you that?” She spoke softly to him trying to ease his panic. When he said no she went on explaining what her ability could do. When she activated this ability, she could take someone into their own mind and show them the memories they oppressed or couldn’t remember. He stood slowly and walked to her side of the island and grabbed her hands, placing them on his cheeks, “I want to remember you. Please.” Ember studied his eyes for a moment before her hands glowed a soft blue. Suddenly, she and bucky were back in 1940’s Brooklyn and Bucky smiled, pointing out what places were still standing in the modern-day. The two took the path he and small Steve took every day until they spotted himself and Steve making their way home from work. A perk was nothing in your memory could be tainted so the pair followed through the crowd, not worried about getting caught. His hand instinctively grabbed hers as they followed young Bucky into the flower shop she worked at. Another perk was you could hear the person’s inner thoughts from that time so suddenly Bucky heard his voice talk about how pretty she was and he saw Ember’s cheeks turn that same soft pink again. Suddenly the memory shifted to him walking her home, asking her out to dinner, and a feeling of anxiety washed over them, ‘Bucky had been nervous about their first date’ she thought fondly. Memories played of them being in her apartment, of her meeting his family and the bear hug his mom gave her, Suddenly they were in his childhood bedroom with small Steve drawing away as Bucky got ready for another date with her, “ I’m telling you, Steve, she’s the one. I’ve never felt this way about someone before.” Small steve chuckled and told his friend that was the fifth time he’d told him that. Again the memory changed to Bucky at Sarah’s apartment, laying on the full bed she had, talking about the future as

she worked on a new yarn project. Present Bucky suddenly asked to stop and immediately the world changed back to their modern selves in her cottage. She went to let go of Bucky’s face, scared she’d done something wrong but he didn't let her go yet just had her back facing him. “ I fell in love with you quicker than I ever thought I could fall for someone. I remember going to the jewlery store to get your necklace that day and looking and engagement rings because I wanted to surprise you with a ring I had been eying fr months” there was a small pause,. “Why didn’t you tell me what you were back then?” His voice was soft as he turned her around to face him, slowing whipping the tears from her face, “ I-I didn’t know how. I-I thought you- you’d hate me or think I was lying or just some freak. When I finally wrote everything down the way I wanted to say it, you got drafted. I didn’t want you to hate me when you left. I wanted to make sure you were happy before you left.” She began sobbing, trying to shrink in on herself when he pulled her into him. “You really think that would’ve made me hate you? I mean it would’ve been a surprise, yeah but I fell in love with you for you not for what you are, that doesn't and didn't matter to me. I loved you then and I love you still.” Bucky suddenly felt very nervous, saying he loved her after decades apart wasn’t easy and letting people in wasn't easy for Bucky anymore, but he knew she was worth it still. He just hoped she felt the same way he did. He saw her fighting with her own brain, trying to think of how this would affect him now. He took her face in his hands and proposed something to her. Making new memories, a second first date and if after a few dates, they still wanted each other then they’d pick up where they left off. He saw her smile softly and it made his heart skip. Slowly leaning in, he kissed her softly, almost scared until she chose to deepen it. The memory of the first time they kissed popped into their heads along with all their other kisses. Pulling away he chuckled, genuinely happy again.

For once, he felt safe and at home.

#james buchanan bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #fluff #mcu #marvel oc

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btsslowburnfic · 3 years

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Chthonic Love Ch 15

Series Summary: A Greek Mythology AU featuring Yoongi/Suga as Hades and reader as Persephone. Olympian ruler Namjoon has delivered you, Persephone, as a gift for his brother, lord of Death, Yoongi

Previous Chapter here

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“Are you sure you should be doing this tonight?” Yoongi asked as he led you down a corridor to a part of the castle you hadn’t been to before.

“Of course. You said it was important. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Your hands. I forgot they were still hurt when I asked you to do it.” He looked down tenderly at your wrapped hands, lifting one up as the two of you descended a worn, obsidian staircase.

“I volunteered. I want to. If it hurts, I’ll stop.” You reassured him. He gave you a questioning look. “I promise.”

“Alright.” The two of you arrived at a large set of grey doors, covered in sigils and jewels. It was beautiful. Yoongi raised his hands, a purple light emanated from them, unlocking the doors,

“Nice enchantment,” you complimented. “Is it the sigils, jewels, or both?”

“Both.” Yoongi answered. “Can’t be too careful.” He led the way through what appeared to be an abandoned throne room. Cobwebs and dust littered the walls.

“What is this place?” You asked, looking over the ancient looking carvings.

“This was the original part of the castle. Like I said, there wasn’t much when I got here. This area was too prone to attacks though. You’ll see why in a few minutes. The underground tunnels led straight to here. Penthos and I closed off the tunnels and then I sealed off this part of the castle.”

“Why not just flood the tunnels? I’m sure Jin would be willing to do it.” You had only met the Sea King a few times, but he seemed perfectly reasonable.

“It’s not that simple. Arachne and her children live down there as well as other creatures. Additionally, we have defensive measures in place down there that would be difficult to replicate. Be careful on the stairs, and follow me.”

He opened a door that led to a steep staircase. You placed your hands on his broad shoulders as he led you down. There was no bannister and the only light that was available were a few sconces Yoongi lit as you passed them. You felt the temperature change as you descended further down into the Earth. The walls called to you, it had been weeks since you felt such a strong connection to organic material.

You felt hundreds of lifeforms burrowing in the Earth. Spiders mostly. Some worms. Nothing of note. Yoongi stopped, having reached the bottom of the staircase. He took your bandaged hand gently and turned around to face you. “I want you to stay behind me. If anything happens, go back to the castle and get Penthos.” You must have looked absolutely terrified because he amended, “There likely won’t be any problems. Just, please. Ok?”

“Ok.” You said. You weren’t sure if you actually would leave Yoongi behind.

You passed through a large earthen atrium covered in moss and cobwebs. “Arachne must stay busy,” you mused.

“Yes, she certainly does.” Yoongi agreed. It was quiet, he was surprised Arachne hadn’t come out when you two arrived. This made him even more nervous. This was a mistake. He shouldn’t have brought you down here when it was so unsafe. He turned around.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, quietly as though you sensed something in the air had changed.

“This is a terrible idea. Let’s leave.”

“Yoongi, I want to help. Come on. So far all I sense are spiders and worms. Big spiders, but that’s it.”

“You can already sense it?” Yoongi asked, slightly confused.

“Yes. I have life and Earth magic. The earth in these tunnels acts as an amplifier to my powers and makes it easier to sense.” You explained. You pursed your lips together while studying his face. He was afraid. `It’s ok Yoongi. Let’s keep going.” You squeezed his hand. You watched his Adam’s apple bob in the darkened hallway.

“Ok fine.” He agreed and turned back around, leading the way to the Northern passage. Arachne had definitely increased the amount of web traps. Yoongi easily sliced through them with his magic. The two of you arrived at a dead end a few moments later. Yoongi illuminated sconces, showing deep cracks in the wall that had been repaired with obsidian.

“Penthos patched these up this morning. I’m glad they’re still holding.” He said, running his hands along the wall.

You marveled at the sight. The earth and obsidian blended together perfectly. Penthos did good work, you thought. Even though he was still an asshole. You put your hand against the cracks and reached through the rock wall. Worms. Spiders. Snake-like things. Algae. Roots. There must be a forest nearby, you found yourself thinking. You shifted your focus. There was a large something. Not human. It beat against the rock. Yoongi couldn’t feel it, but you could. You pulled back.

“Are you ok?” You felt his hand along the small of your back. You nodded and pushed your hands against the wall again. Once again, you felt the large something digging into the earth. You frowned and pulled away.

“Did you sense anything?”

“Yes. There is a large something on the other side of the rock. It is burrowing into the rocks and dirt. It’s not human or a God. It could be an animal or Demigod. It’s hard to tell from back here.”

Yoongi shook his long hair out of his face. “Is it doing it on purpose?”

“It’s definitely burrowing on purpose. But it could be an animal getting ready to hibernate, or it could be a demigod trying to dig their way in here. It’s impossible for me to tell.”

“Dammit.” Yoongi put his hands behind his head, stretching his arms out and pacing.

Suddenly the ground began to shake and dirt began falling from the ceiling.

You heard rocks cracking. You had no power over rocks.

"Yoongi!" you yelled. You felt him reach for you in the growing darkness, he put his hands around your shoulders and pushed you up against one of the intact walls.

"Get down," you heard him yell over the crashing as he covered you with his own body. The shaking lasted for several seconds. You could only hope that the rock walls didn’t fall on top of the two of you. Suddenly the only sound in the chamber was both of your heavy breathing.

After several seconds of silence he asked, "Are you ok?" he asked, still crouched protectively over you.

You were scared. But other than that, you thought you were fine. You didn't respond at first, still in shock from the sudden cave in. Your hands were shaking. He stood up, pulling you along with him.

"Persephone?" he asked again, putting his hand under your chin. You could barely make out the outline of his face in the darkness.

"Sorry, I'm fine. Just surprised." you leaned up against him. You felt some rocks and dirt in your hair. He lit one of the only remaining sconces, casting a dim light throughout the cavern.

He reached a hand through your hair, extracting some of the debris. “It’s just some dirt.” He said, trying to reassure you. You were still shaking and thankful you hadn’t been crushed to death by boulders. It might take more to kill an Olympian like Yoongi, but it would have been lethal for you.

"Thanks." under different circumstances this would almost be romantic, you thought. You realized your hands were still up against his body and you slowly pulled away.

"Yoongi, hold on, your face is bleeding," you almost shouted as he turned his head to survey the damage.

He touched a hand to the dark liquid on his face. "it's fine. It doesn't hurt so it can't be that bad." He wiped the blood off on his shirt.

"You could have brain damage." You started to take off your wrappings.

He turned around suddenly and grabbed you by the wrists. "No. Your hands are still healing. It's just a cut."

"I can fix it." You tried to move your wrists. He pressed more firmly.

"No. And that's an order." he let go of your wrists and smirked slightly. You parted your lips incredulously.

"Seriously? This is when you choose to pull the ruler card?"

He chuckled warmly, stepping on top of a pile of fallen rock. He pushed down with his foot, seeing if it would move before offering you his hand. You took it and joined him on top of the heap.

" At least let me look at it when we get out of here. " You admonished him.

"You can look at it all you like but you're not going to use your powers. If you have some magic plant potion, be my guest." He slid down onto the other side of the pile and reached up to you. He planted his hands around your waist and slowed your descent along his body, placing you on the ground. You felt every inch of yourself pressed up against him and felt very aware of the fact all of you was touching, his hands still wrapped around your sides.

You looked up at him, pushing his hair back and looking at the cut along his hairline. He winced slightly even though he tried not to. "You're lucky. I do know some magic plant potions."

Yoongi blinked slowly, looking down at you. He was lucky. So lucky.

"Good. I feel better already." He said in his deep voice. He lifted a hand from your side and brought it to your face, rubbing his thumb along your cheek. You leaned into it, suddenly feeling like it was a million degrees. Gods you hoped you weren't wrong about this, you thought as you lifted up on your toes ever so slightly and pressed your lips against his. They were so soft. At first he stood there, not moving one inch. But then, you heard a slight moan come from him. Yes, you had been right about this. He returned the kiss, pressing back against your lips.

You lowered your arms, placing your hands up against his chest.

“Persephone,” he lightly whispered in the dimly lit cavern.

“[Y/N] call me [Y/N],” you said back as the two of you returned to kissing each other. They were slow and gentle.

“[Y/N],” he obliged in between the kisses. “Thank you.”

You started to ask him for what but then, the ground once again started to shake.

“We need to get out of here.” Yoongi turned away from you and started to pull you back towards the center of the cavern.

You couldn’t really see much, trusting Yoongi as he led you by the hand. When the two of you arrived back at the central chamber, Yoongi abruptly stopped, placing you behind him. You were curious as to why and you peeked around his shoulder. You were surprised to see about 800 eyes looking at you.

“My Lord, what is happening?” You heard a voice that sounded like scratching. You saw a large spider with the head of a woman speaking. Arachne.

“Something is burrowing on the other side of the tunnels. It’s causing some of the rock to fall.” Yoongi responded. You heard several hisses and squeaks.

“Oh no oh no this is no good.” Arachne clacked her main pincers together.

“Can you go and move the rock debris out of the way? I will send Penthos down to move the rocks as well.” Yoongi requested.

“I can but my littler spiderlings….” Arachne worried aloud. “They might be crushed by the rock.”

Yoongi pressed his lips together. It was so easy for him to forget that all of the little spiders were Arachne’s babies. He understood it abstractly, but at this point, it was no longer abstract.

“Couldn’t the spiderlings stay in the old part of the castle?” You whispered to Yoongi. He turned around and looked at you. Who else would suggest opening a castle up to spiders? He thought.

“Lady Persephone is right. Your children can evacuate up into the old part of the Obsidian Palace.”

“Ohhh? You would let my children into the castle? Even though they are spiders?” She said surprised. “Oh i don’t know I don’t know. They are used to the tunnels.” She tapped her many feet with worry.

You stepped out from behind Yoongi. “The tunnels aren’t safe right now. Please. We can take them right now before more of the tunnels cave in.”

“A LADY IS SPEAKING TO MEEEE?” Arachne’s brain short-circuited for a moment as she rushed to bow.

“Yes. It’s lovely to meet you. After we’re not being threatened with Earthquakes I would love to speak with you more. But for now, please allow me to take your children to the Palace.”

Yoongi stood there thinking about his next steps while you discussed this with Persephone. He would need to activate the golems before Hephaestus was able to conduct his repairs.

“Alright ladies,” he began. Arachne squealed slightly having not been called a lady in centuries. “Lady Persephone will take the spiderlings to the older part of the castle and then she will go get Penthos.” Yoongi turned to face you. He must have seen the confusion on your face. He spoke quieter now, “I have to stay here. I can’t leave this cavern wide open.” He took you by the hand.

You took a deep breath, “Yeah. Ok. I can do that.”

“And don’t come back down here until I get you.” He added.

“But Yoongi I can help, and your head is bleeding still.”

He held up a hand. “No. I don’t want you down here until I’m sure the walls are stable. You know it would take more than a few rocks to kill me.” He voiced your fear out loud.

“I know but I would still rather be down here with you.” You said quietly.

“I know. But please. Just do this for me.” He looked at you with his deep brown eyes.

You sighed. “Ok. I can do that.”

“Thank you [Y/N]. Here,” he brought his hands up in front of his chest and struggled to remove one of the many rings from his fingers. “This will allow you to undo the basic level of Enchantment to go in and out of the door.” He handed it to you.

You took the small black ring and placed it on your finger. A light purple light glowed at first. You were still worried about leaving Yoongi behind. But you knew it had to be done. You could be brave. “You got it.” You said.

He held your hand, gently rubbing his fingers over where the ring was, “Do you remember how to get back to the main part of the castle?”

“Yes.” You affirmed, looking up at him. You needed to do this now or you wouldn’t be able to leave. You pulled away, “Alright, Arachne. Please tell any of your children who are coming to follow me.”

“Yes yes thank you thank you they like bugs and dirt and they like it a little dark but not too dark you know they are spiders but also baby spiders.”

“Of course. I’ll make sure the accommodations are appropriate.” You said. You hadn’t expected to be on spider babysitting duty and yet, here you were. A lady must always be prepared to entertain whatever guests she may have, you reminded yourself of court etiquette. You had hated that class, never thinking you would ever be part of a court or live in a palace. Oh how Athena would be laughing now. You thought.

You took one last look at Yoongi who was already heading back to the site of the cave-in and headed back to the palace, with hundreds of tiny spiderlings following you.

You arrived in the older part of the castle and immediately removed your bandaging. These spiders would need somewhere to be. You placed your hands on the throne room floor, encouraging vines and foliage to cover part of the floor. The vines continued up the walls. You covered the windows with ivy, allowing some sunlight to enter, but much less.

“Alright babies. I need to go and get some help, but I’ll be back soon.” You said into the room of spiders hoping they understood you.

You walked down the hallway to the Enchanted doors and opened them. To your surprise Penthos was there, a sculpture in his hand.

You raised an eyebrow.

He looked sheepish and embarrassed. You had clearly caught him off guard, trying to break down the door. “I heard a loud sound and the whole castle shook. Where is Lord Yoongi?” He asked, suddenly his face changed to a mixture of fear and anger. “And how did YOU open the door?”

You were so over this shit. “There was a cave-in in the tunnels. Something is burrowing from the other side. Lord Yoongi and Arachne are working on clearing the debris. You are to go help them immediately.” You said with an air of confidence and turned around. He followed you and you shut the door behind the two of you.

“How did you get the door to work?” He asked incredulously.

“The throne room is covered in spiderlings. Don’t step on any of them or there will be consequences.” You had no actual authority over Penthos. You were technically not a member of this court. He seemed extremely confused.

“How did you open the doors?” He asked you once again. You stopped and looked him in the eyes.

“Lord Yoongi is down in the tunnels where he is in danger of a tunnel collapse and you keep asking me about the damn doors. Get down there and help.” You fumed. “If you have a question about the enchantments, ask Lord Yoongi while you’re fixing the rock pile.” You continued your walk into the abandoned throne room.

Penthos mulled all of this over as he followed you. He entered the throne room and carefully stepped around all the spiders.

You smirked as you watched him and made sure he went down the passageway to the tunnels.

“Now. Time to go find some dirt.” You said out loud to the little spiders. NEXT CHAPTER

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