🕷❘ Ⲛⲓⲛⲉ ❘ 𝖥𝖾𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐 𝖡𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗆

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˚ ༘ ⌇ 𝟸𝟶𝟷𝟼 ༉‧₊

๑՞ ° 𝙰𝚐𝚎 : 𝟷𝟻 *·˚

๑՞ ° 𝙰𝚐𝚎 : 𝟷𝟻 *·˚

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After your training periods, you often spent the rest of the time in the library, finding peace in it; a trait you had gained from both your father and mother.

Wong, the librarian, had recognized you quickly, without even the need for you to introduce yourself to him.

"Jasmine, can you help me with this pile?" he had casually asked you one day, not even realizing that he had addressed you by your mother's name.

You snapped your head up at him; Not even your father had mistaken you for your mother, but Wong had. 

You blinked at him a few times, a smile growing in your face as a small spark of happiness flickered in your heart in being referred to your mother.

"I'm talking to you," Wong rested his hand on his hips, raising his eyebrows, still not realizing his tongue slip.

"Uh," you stood up form the chair,  "Yes, sure, of course,"

You took the stack of books in your hand, pausing to balance, and walked over to Wong. After handing it to him, you bid farewell and walked out of the library.

As you hadn't paid attention to where you were going, you felt yourself run into a wall of muscle, letting out a groan

"Careful there," a deep voice chuckled.

You raised her head to lock your E/C eyes with a pair of chocolate ones. The boy in front of you had his hair trimmed short, almond skin and chiselled jawline. He was wearing a traditional tunic and pale sleeves overcoat that accentuated his biceps.

"Don't want someone pretty like you getting hurt," he smirked down at you.

"And who the are you?" you muttered, narrowing your eyes in suspicion.

"Just a fellow bookworm," he nodded towards the entrance of the library behind you.

"Might wanna add 'creepy' to the list," you remarked, raising your chin at him with a fake smile.

The boy chuckled, running his tongue through this teeth, "Greg Dargan," he introduced himself.

After a moment of hesitation, you decided to introduce yourself and caught his hand with yours, "Y/N Strange,"

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Soon, you and Greg developed a casual friendship, with you often putting up a sarcastic remark to keep him at a particular distance.

As much as you enjoyed his company and it felt to have someone around your age, something about him didn't feel right. And you weren't one to give into and trust people immediately.

"Say, I've been thinking," Greg dipped his head down shyly and your raised your eyebrows, "That, um—" he chuckled aimlessly, swaying from one foot to another, "Can I take you out for a da—"

"Who are you?" Wong cut in, walking into the library and making you both turn to him, "What are you doing in my library?"

"I'm Greg Dargan. I'm actually from the New York Sanctum—" Greg tried to explain.

"I don't care," Wong deadpanned, making you stifle a snort, "Get out,"

"Damn," he winced, "Okay, wow," he turned back to you, "Guess, I'll see you later,"

You grinned, watching Greg walk out of the library with an offended, confused expression.

Slowly, you turned to Wong, your grin never leaving, "You gonna kick me out too?"

"No," Wong's lips twitched in a smile, before setting back into the thin line it was, "But I just know that your father, or even Jas, would've wanted me to shoo him away," he sauntered over to your side, "And beside I need help arranging that shelf," he pointed at the bookshelf at the far end of the library.

"Astral Projection," you read out from the title of a book on the counter, reaching out towards it.

But Wong snatched it away before you could get it, "Which is a big 'no',"

"Why ?"

"You're not ready for it," 

"Thought you had a soft spot for me, Wong," you grumbled at him, crossing your arms.

"I do," he admitted, with a jerk of his head to the side, "Which is exactly why I'm not gonna let you use it. Just not yet, at least. Now go, get to work,"

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