#definitely going to research further in the morning but it IS after midnight and i am not chappell roan | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

alluringjae · 4 years ago

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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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theskywaslookingback · 3 years ago

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[AO3]

“Why do you even have that?”

Sasha looks up from her laptop to give Jon a quizzical look. They’ve been deep in a research hole for hours now, Jon with his files spread out before him like a buffet and Sasha picking her way through line after line of code to access things that she really shouldn’t be able to access - although, the government should have better security if it didn’t want to get hacked so she tried not to feel too badly about it. Jon’s not looking at his files now though, his gaze appears to be drawn to her shoe-box sized kitchen.

“Why do I have what?” She asks, “A kitchen?”

“No, the--” He flicks his fingers in a vague gesture to the counter, and his eyebrows pull together in a fetching little wrinkle that Sasha desperately wants to smooth away with her thumb, “the absolutely massive thing you have taking up half your kitchen.”

“Oh!” Sasha says, and then starts to laugh.

The stand mixer is large, honestly, too big to store in the meagre storage space of her cabinets and taking up half the countertop next to the stove. It’s also a garish bright red, loud against the backdrop of beige walls and a white lino countertop. She wonders why on earth Jon’s bringing this up now, they’ve been working for hours now and this certainly isn’t the first time he’s visited her flat, and decides the answer to simply be that ‘it’s Jon, he’s probably just never noticed.’

He’s fully scowling at her now, in a way she knows is defensive. He probably thinks she’s making fun of him. He can be so sensitive. “Sorry,” She says when she stops laughing long enough to speak, “I think you just caught me off guard. It was cute.”

“Cute?” Jon starts to sputter, the tips of his ears darkening and his nose wrinkling.

He is cute, Sasha thinks.

She waves it off. “It was a wedding present. That’s one of the big ones, I think, for most people. First thing I added to the registry.”

Jon couldn’t look more blind-sided if he’d been hit by a lorry. He even drops his pen, staring at her with wide eyes. “You’re married?”

Sasha snorts. “Don’t be daft. Does it look like I’m living with someone?”

Jon looks around anyway like he’s looking for evidence. “Divorced?”

“Nope.” She says, popping the ‘p’ with extra emphasis and grinning at the helpless confusion radiating from her friend.

“Then--” Jon trails off. He looks at the stand mixer again, like maybe it holds the answers he’s seeking. He looks back at her, and then down at his files. Suddenly his head jerks up and he says, “Wait, have you ever even been engaged?” He says this so seriously it tugs at Sasha’s heart. His eyes narrow like he’s caught her in some kind of trap, as though that wasn’t what she was expecting.

Sasha grins. “No.”

Jon looks at her incredulously, like he’s fitting together a bunch of puzzle pieces in his mind. It’s fun. Jon is so fun. “Sasha, did you fake an engagement just to get a stand mixer?”

“Yes!” Sasha slams her laptop shut and points at Jon, “But do not tell my great aunt that, do you understand? It took me years of work to get that stand mixer, Jon!”

Jon stares at her silently for just a moment, absolutely bewildered, before he dissolves into laughter, curling in on himself and digging his fingers into his sides. It shakes his shoulders and Sasha swears there’s tears in his eyes and before she knows it she’s laughing too, hard enough it hurts her chest and blurs her vision. To an outside viewer they must look positively loony. It takes ages for them to stop and gather themselves back together. Jon takes off his glasses to wipe tears away from his eyes while Sasha rubs at her face and tries to stop the giggles that keep bubbling up when she looks at Jon.

“God,” Jon says at last, “I haven’t laughed like that in--” he clears his throat, “anyway.”

“Yes,” Sasha agrees, “anyway.”

She looks at the clock and is both shocked and completely unsurprised that it’s after midnight.

Jon must follow her gaze because she hears him utter a quiet, “good lord.”

She’s dangerously close to laughing again.

Jon starts to shuffle his files away back into their folders. “Later than I thought.” He says.

Sasha hums in agreement, putting her laptop away and sorting her notes into neat piles. “No use trying to get home this late, you might as well just stay the night.”

“Ah,” Jon’s nose does that cute wrinkle thing again, and Sasha’s lips twitch, “that’s quite alright. I’m sure I can just find a cab.”

“Could do,” Sasha agrees, “but it’d be easier if you stayed. I’ve got an extra toothbrush and everything. Plus, tomorrow is Saturday so it’s not like we have to rush back to work or anything.”

Jon’s got all his things put back in his messenger bag, a solid olive green canvas affair that Sasha privately thinks is dreadful looking. “Wouldn’t want to spoil your weekend. I’m sure you have plans.” He’s stalling, looking for a reason not to go. Sasha wishes he’d just tell her what he wants.

She smiles, because Jon isn’t easy but she knows him and she likes him anyway, “Well, I was going to put that stand mixer to work and make myself some bread. But other than that--” She shrugs.

Jon’s eyes go once more to that bright red piece of kitchen equipment. “You make your own bread?”

“Sure. It’s cheaper and it tastes better.”

Jon makes a thoughtful noise. “Well, I suppose… that is, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Lovely,” Sasha beams, and then adds slyly, “I’ve even got some of Tim’s things you can sleep in.”

Jon goes properly red at that and buries his face in his hands with a groan.

Sasha busies herself with getting her ingredients together while Jon wakes up. Before they’d become friends she’d always just kind of assumed he’d be a morning person. He had that air about him at work, sharp and alert even when she was still trying to get her head on. The truth is that while Jon has difficulties getting to sleep, he would happily sleep until mid-afternoon if she let him, so she makes sure to wake him at a decent hour and then goes back to check and make sure he hasn’t fallen back asleep. Since her flat is basically a glorified closet, and Jon sleeps on the sofa, this is not a hard task to keep an eye on.

It takes a good twenty minutes before Jon comes and sits himself down at what she generously calls a kitchen table. His hair hangs in curls around his shoulders and he impatiently pushes a hand through it where it covers his face. He’s still sleepy-eyed, the sleeves of Tim’s jumper she’d let him borrow pooling around his hands.

“Good morning.” She says with amusement.

He grunts, flopping into a rickety chair. “Coffee?” He asks.

“All out. Tea alright?”

He nods.

“Great. Kettle is over there.” She gestures vaguely to the area next to the fridge, “Tea is top cabinet.”

Jon sighs, like it’s a great effort for him to make his own tea, but offers no further complaint as he retrieves the kettle and fills it with water.

With Jon out of the way Sasha appropriates the table for more space to set out her scale and bowls. She won’t need anything too fancy today so it doesn’t take long to get set up. She hears the kettle and turns around just in time to see Jon half-way climbing onto the counter. “Jon!” She scolds, similar to the way she would her cat when she was a child.

He freezes and gives her a sheepish grin. “You said top cabinet.”

She did, and she hadn’t thought about the almost foot of height she had on Jon. She snorts and waves him down. “Grab the mugs, I’ll get the tea then.”

He grumbles something about doing it himself but obliges, plucking two mugs from the drying rack.

“Green tea alright?”

Jon makes a dismissive noise. “Black?”

“Out.”

“I’m taking you shopping after this, Sasha James, this is downright unacceptable.”

“Yeah, sure.”

She hands him the box of tea bags and he rolls his eyes at her, muttering as he fills their mugs with water.

“Do you at least have milk?”

“Yes.”

“Thank god.”

Sasha rolls her eyes and gets back to her scale, weighing out her dry ingredients.

“Why are you doing it like that?”

“By weight?”

Jon hums.

“It’s more accurate by weight than by volume, typically.”

“You can’t just, I don’t know, eye-ball it?”

“Jonathan Sims have you ever baked anything in your entire life?”

She takes the jerky shrug he gives in response as a no. She shakes her head and dumps her flour and yeast into the mixing bowl of her stand mixer. Jon hovers there at her shoulder, watching, so close she can almost feel his breath.

It gives her a wicked idea.

She reaches a hand up, like she’s checking something, and then flicks the mixer on high.

Flour explodes from the mixing bowl in a cloud of white, covering her and Jon and the countertop.

The little shriek Jon gives will stay with her for a very long time.

“Why?” He asks, mouth agape and positively covered in flour.

“Because I knew it would be funny.” Sasha says, laughing. There’s flour in her hair, and she’ll definitely need to wash her clothes, but the look in Jon’s wide eyes and the slowly blooming smile on his face is worth it.

It takes less time than she thinks to get everything clean again, and the second time she even allows Jon to help her measure ingredients and start the mixer. He’s very serious about the whole thing, watching the scale with a grim kind of determination like it would mean death if he added just a bit too much yeast to the dough, but it’s the most fun Sasha’s had in forever. By the end of the day she has enough bread to wrap a loaf up for Jon to take home, and he looks at her like she’s just given him the greatest gift he’s ever received.

“Same time next week?” She asks as she wraps his scarf around his neck.

“I suppose.” He says, ducking his head to avoid the kiss she tries to plant on his cheek. “If you’re amenable.”

“I’m amenable.” She says, and kisses the top of his head anyway.

Sasha watches him leave and Jon turns back at the end of the hallway to wave, before disappearing into the stairwell. She laughs, bright and happy, and closes the door.

#fic #my fic #jonathan sims #sasha james #days before; unwinding

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lov3nerdstuff · 4 years ago

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Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 7.14}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 5.7k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

______________________________

The first few weeks of classes went by in a breeze. With potions and herbology out of the picture now, Robin had a lot of time to study for those four classes that she still had left to take, and she also got around to doing plenty of work on her own research on the side. The evenings however remained reserved for working in the lab or the office, for chatting and overall for spending time with Snape. Their work was either of a more experimental nature these days, or consisted of basic tasks imposed on them by the school. At the same time they tried to slowly work their way through the almost countless ingredients they had gathered over summer, experimenting with different modes of preservation and use.

During the day however, Robin soon found herself with an underwhelming amount of work to do, while Snape was obviously busy, as were her roommates, and she often found herself already bored by noon. Four classes… it wasn't a lot, even if she read ahead and did her assignments more thoroughly than anyone could expect of her. So she picked up an old habit and read up on random things in her freetime, whenever she had seen enough plants and dead animals on dusty book pages for a day. Whether it was books and articles on the dark arts, ministry decrees and political dealings, or something as pathetic as Cas' collection of glossy magazines… Robin read anything she could get her hands on.

Surprisingly enough, there had been no further issues with Morgan after the welcoming feast as of yet, and he merely gave Robin poor grades one day and the highest scores the next, as if he himself couldn't even make up his mind about what the situation between them was supposed to be like now. He did throw Robin the most bone chilling glances at times though, full of yearning and hatred and craze that even the other students commented on occasionally, but that was it. Honestly, Robin was glad about it and she knew that Snape was too. As long as Morgan stayed subtle in his insanity, they wouldn't bother with him either.

In the third week of term, Dumbledore had invited Robin to tea indeed, like he had announced before the holidays, and Robin had accepted for the sole purpose of finding out more about what the man was playing at. Of course it hadn't been that easy though, it never was, and she had left his office no wiser in the end, and with more questions than she'd started out with. The headmaster truly was ineffable by default, a mystery she just wasn't able to solve and that grew more complicated the longer she pried. But it had been painfully obvious to her at least that he knew something he was keeping from her on purpose, something that wasn't as simple as a reason for ignoring the assault on a student. However she had quickly come to realise that if she called out Dumbledore for protecting Morgan, she would cut into her own flesh, seeing as he was protecting her 'ties' with Snape just the same. In a way, Robin had admired Dumbledore for getting her caught up far enough in his system of liabilities that she wasn't in a position any longer to call him out for his wrongs. She had become a threat to him somehow, or an unpredictable factor in his game at least, and he had easily put her on a leash to keep her under control. It was a brilliant move, to her disadvantage admittedly, but brilliant no less.

One good outcome of having tea with the headmaster was that Robin had been asked to occasionally assist the professors in a few of the more practical classes for the lower years, such as herbology and care of magical creatures, but not potions however, which Robin had taken immediate notice of and was honestly glad about. She couldn't imagine working with Snape as anything but equals at this point, and it probably wouldn't be the best idea to showcase just how close they were in their friendship in front of a class full of his students. But assisting the other professors from time to time when they needed a hand would certainly take some access time off her hands and perhaps prevent her from going through Cas' collection of YA novels next, and that definitely was a gain more than a loss. Maybe she could mention it in her CV at the end of the year, when she would be done with school and left to find a job to pay for a living. Gods, she had no idea what she would do then… she didn't even know what kind of job she could do at this point. But she still had a few months to figure that out after all, and for the moment, she preferred to remain in blissful ignorance of the more distant future.

… … …

Before long it was the middle of October, or more precisely, the nineteenth thereof. A day prior to Robin's birthday, and in remembrance of the last one, she actually found herself excited for it this year. Not because of presents she might or might not receive, she honestly still didn't care about that all too much, but mostly because she'd actually had such a lovely day last year, and she hoped that she would have an even better one this time around. Actually she was quite sure that she would, because for the first time in all her years at this school she wouldn't have Morgan's class on her birthday, which in itself was already a huge improvement to any other year before.

For days on end, however, Jorien and Cas had pleaded Robin to celebrate into her birthday together, if celebrating even was the appropriate word for spending the evening in their room together doing whatever it was the two girls were thinking of, and after days of hearing their begging, Robin had finally agreed on a compromise. That's why in the evening of the nineteenth, Robin found herself in a sudden hurry upon catching a glimpse at her watch at half past ten at night, and she finished her coffee in one big gulp in return.

"Are you alright?" Snape quirked an eyebrow at her in question, obviously startled by her sudden jump into action after hours of calmly sitting across from him with her legs crossed on the chair.

"No, I'm late!" She sighed in return and gave him an almost sad half smile. "I told you I promised the girls to spend the latter half of the evening with them for once, didn't I?"

"Right… I merely hadn't realised that it was quite so late already."

"I feel like I should be more excited for this evening than I am. After letting them pierce my ears last year, I'm honestly not sure what they will try to do to me this time, and I'm not all too eager to find out. Especially since they insist on staying up until after midnight."

"Most likely they simply want to spend the evening with you because they care. But you obviously believe that whatever they have planned won't be all too enjoyable for you."

"Would you like to spend an evening with two overly excited fourteen year olds who have been planning this evening for weeks?!" She asked with humour in her voice. She liked the girls, very much so… and she was happy that they cared about her enough to want to spend this evening together. But she also knew how overbearing they could be in situations like this, and how they had a very much different idea of 'fun' than she did herself.

"Actually, I would rather drink poison." Snape replied in absolute neutrality, and only when Robin let out a snort he allowed himself to smirk as well. "Good luck. You have my utmost sympathy."

"Thanks…" She groaned under her breath in exaggeration, then smiled and finally made for the door. "See you tomorrow morning?"

"Obviously. Have a good night despite their efforts, yes?"

"I'll try. However if I don't show up for breakfast tomorrow, you should start being concerned." She turned around to him once more, and a part of her wished she didn't have to go. "Have a good night yourself. Perhaps you could use the opportunity to actually go to bed before 3 in the morning, it might do you good to get some rest after that almost-explosion in class you mentioned."

Snape rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, making Robin smirk as she forced herself to leave the office at last. While she made her way down the hallway towards the dorms, she tried to recall when she'd last parted from him this early. She couldn't actually remember; usually it was way after midnight when they decided to call it a night. Returning to her room this early now just felt oddly wrong. But on the other side, the closer she got to her inevitable fate of whatever sleepover scenario the girls had planned, the more she actually felt happy at the prospect of spending some time with them. Whatever immature things they were going to force her into, she promised herself to try enjoying it at least. Who knew… perhaps they would surprise her.

The very moment she entered her room, she was already welcomed by the smell of tea and chocolate cake, mingling with the always lovely fragrance of a burning fire in the oven in the middle of the room. So far so good! While both girls immediately started complaining that Robin was two minutes late, she moved to drop her bag by her bed, then undid her robes and finally flopped down on her bed and caught a pause in their rambling to bring out her own apology. Her sincerely apologetic expression along with it obviously appeased the girls quickly enough, and they moved on without dwelling on her miniscule delay. Both of them were in their pajamas already, but they didn't give Robin an opportunity to change into hers as they ushered her onto the only empty bed and already pressed a plate of cake and a teacup into her hands, then sat down with her to enjoy their own. Admittedly, tea and cake in the middle of the night was as normal to Robin as reading before bedtime was to others, and thus she enjoyed the start to their little celebration more than she had anticipated. They chatted about nothing particularly important, mostly about the remarkable mishap of a student in their potions class that day, which Robin had already heard about from the other perspective. Getting a full picture now however proved to be highly amusing to her, and together with the cake and tea, she actually felt quite comfortable in the situation. Happy, even. Perhaps she had underestimated the girls' taste in having fun… they weren't kids anymore, after all.

She stayed in that mindset until right after tea, when she realized that they weren't kids anymore indeed, but something far worse. Teenagers. Because as soon as her plate and cup were out of her hands, Cas supplied them all with some odd kind of facial mask, which she plastered thickly onto Robin's face before the latter could even put her hair up. It really was a messy endeavour; sticky, weird smelling, dripping onto her clothes and getting stuck in her hair, which perhaps was more due to Cas' less than expertly way of applying it to Robin's face than because of the substance itself. Meanwhile Jorien decided that it was absolutely necessary to paint Robin's nails, luckily deciding that Robin would probably prefer black over the glittery blue she herself wore, and thus got started on that while Cas was still busy smearing the mask onto every path of Robin's skin she could find. It was a living hell on earth in a way, but Robin just let the girls do and actually found herself so very amused by it that she actually had to try not to laugh out loud. It was such a cliche thing to do, such a stereotypical situation… but she would let them dress her up as much as they wanted tonight, for it was humouring either of them after all. Robin just happened to be amused by it in a different way than the girls.

For quite some time they continued their work on Robin, and finally also on each other in such a practiced manner that it left Robin guessing if they did this regularly. She never was around in the evenings after all, she had no clue what their nights looked like. Before long it was almost midnight, and Robin was sitting on the shared bed again after she had been allowed to wash off the mask as good as possible once the girls had been sure that her nails were dry enough for that by now.

"Say, do you ever miss your best friend these days?" Jorien asked Robin out of the blue, after previously discussing something entirely different. "You said you spent all summer together, so… you must be pretty close."

"Of course I do, I always miss him when he's not around." Robin replied with a small frown, probably sounding as surprised by the inquiry as she felt. "Why the odd question?"

"Oh, you know…" Cas shrugged in feigned indifference. "We were just wondering if we should keep trying to find you a date, or if perhaps you aren't interested in a relationship because you already ARE in a relationship."

Robin's jaw dropped for a second, then her brows furrowed to act over her rising embarrassment. "I can assure you that I'm not in any relationship other than entirely platonic ones, but I'm still not interested in you finding me a date."

"Well, you aren't getting any younger!"

Now Robin just straight out laughed at them. "Guys, I will be eighteen in five minutes, not eighty! You don't have to push me into any kind of relationship just for the sake of it, I'm not interested in that kind of thing."

"But you are interested in something else?" Jorien quirked an eyebrow at her, a smug expression on her face as if this entire conversation had been one big trap for Robin to fall into. And she most definitely just had, going by the grins on both girls' faces.

"Look, this really isn't-..." She tried, but was cut off immediately.

"Oh come on! You can't tell us that in eighteen years of being alive you've never had a crush on someone. Not even YOU despise people that much!" Cas argued, and Jorien nodded her approval to the statement. "This is a girls' night, which obviously is something you haven't done much before, alright, but let me assure you that we are supposed to talk about boys now!"

"I don't know any boys other than my classmates." Robin shrugged. "And they're all idiots not worth talking about."

"But what about your mysterious best friend, then? Tell us more about him. About your summer together."

"I already told you many of the stories of what we experienced in summer. I even told you about some of it twice!"

"Yeah, but you never spoke of what happened between you and him, only about the things that happened to the two of you."

"Nothing happened between us! Why do you even want to know about that? I'm sure you have plenty of stories about Simon to tell… And hasn't one of his friends been oddly nice to you lately, Jorien?" Robin tried to change the topic, feeling more discomfort in the current situation than she had while they had 'beautified' her. Not only was it already difficult as it is to keep her existing friendship with Snape a secret, but the girls' prodding about what exactly she felt for him just made it almost impossible to keep her feelings locked up. Perhaps they didn't understand that… couldn't know that having a crush was entirely different from truly and desperately loving someone. Hell, even that had to be different for everyone, love surely didn't work the same for all people. Either way, Robin didn't want to talk about it. Not with them, and not with anyone else.

"You always say you speak the truth no matter what… and you insist that you never break your promises. So tell us straight out that you're not crushing on anyone, and we'll leave you be." Cas argued back, entirely ignoring Robin's attempt at a change of conversational direction.

"I swear that I do not have a crush on anyone." Robin insisted seriously, locking gazes with both girls respectively. "And I would very much appreciate it if we could use the one minute left before my birthday to talk about something else now."

"Fine." Cas sighed sadly. "I believe you. Too bad though, crushes are fun. I honestly don't understand why nobody ever asks you out, you're amazing."

"Change of topic, idiot!" Jorien hissed at her friend and nudged her in the side. "It won't do to make her feel unloved!"

"Oh, I feel very loved. You painted my nails and smeared goo on my face, what more could I want?" Robin gave them a teasing half smile, and the girls couldn't help giggling in return. "And I really appreciate the efforts you made to make this evening a small celebration. Thank you."

"Oh, but it's not even over yet!" Cas grinned, and scrambled off the bed, almost tripping over the way too long tracksuit bottoms she had probably borrowed (or stolen) from Simon. Poor boy… Cas really was a handful, but as far as Robin could tell, he really did like her a lot, and he was absolutely lovely to her. The thought made her smile, just when Cas jumped back onto the bed with a surprisingly large box.

Just in time, the clock hit midnight and both Cas and Jorien started singing a desperately off-key but very much heartfelt happy birthday, which made Robin smile even more. Yeah, she did feel loved indeed.

"Happy birthday, you old person!" Cas practically squealed at her, then dropped the box on the bed and wrapped Robin into a tight hug to which Jorien followed, and both girls together squeezed all air out of Robin's lungs, which she happily let happen.

"Happy birthday Robin." Jorien added in barely audible words that were muffled by Robin's blouse.

"Thank you guys. You really got me to start liking birthdays." She smiled, then frowned a little as the two still wouldn't let go of her. "You're not trying to suffocate me, are you? I'd like to make it to nineteen as well."

"Oh, sorry." Cas said, and both finally let go of Robin to sit back down in front of her. "It's just… this is your last birthday we're celebrating together like this. And we want you to remember it in the future."

"I most definitely will, don't worry."

"Good! But to help you with that nonetheless, we got you a different gift this year. Not jewelry for once." Jorien explained, while she handed Robin the large box in an almost festive gesture. "So you will remember us."

Robin already felt sad before she opened the box. It was true, this was her last birthday they would celebrate together. Or was it? "Just because it's my last year doesn't mean we won't see each other again afterwards, you know that, right?" She asked even before she opened the box. This was supposed to be a cheerful occasion, not one filled with sadness about a future that wasn't as depressing as they likely made it out to be in their heads. "Perhaps we can't celebrate my birthday for a while, but you won't be in school forever either. And there's no rule saying that I can't come and visit you guys on Hogsmeade weekends."

"That's true…" Cas sighed, and her smile quickly lost the sadness to it. "But right now you're still here in the first place, and you're the birthday girl. So open the present already!"

Rolling her eyes for show, Robin still obliged and took a peek first before opening the lid entirely at last. Inside, underneath a layer of colourful paper, lay a beautiful wooden picture frame that held a moving photograph of her little group of people. Jorien, Cas, Simon, his two friends who Robin had actually almost grown somewhat fond of at this point, and also Robin herself right in the middle. They were all seated in the great hall on both sides of the table, smiling into the camera.

"I remember this…" Robin heard herself saying in astonishment. "A classmate of theirs… what was her name again…"

"Patricia." Cas was quick to reply, and Robin's smile widened.

"Right… She asked if she could take a picture of us because we looked so happy. That was just recently, in the second week of term, wasn't it?"

"Yep. It actually was Simon's idea to give this to you as a gift." Cas went on to explain. "He got Patricia to make a copy of it for him, and Jorien and I got the frame."

"Thank you, honestly, this is… wow."

"We actually managed to leave you short for words for once, hell yeah!" Cas laughed, giving Jorien a high-five. "It's probably not the most extraordinary present, but-..."

"It's perfect." Robin was quick to interrupt. "There hardly are any pictures of me as an adult, other than those in the paper, and none at all of my friends. Nobody ever bothered taking a picture with me, least of all frame one with me in it, and I honestly love it more than anything else you could've given to me."

"You're most welcome." Jorien replied with a smile. "But a third of the effort was Simon's, don't forget that."

"I'll thank him too, first thing tomorrow morning. But now we should probably call it a night, it's gonna be a long Friday for you guys and I don't want you to lose any more sleep over me."

"Yes, mom." Jorien rolled her eyes with a snort. "Morning's gonna come no matter when we go to bed, you know. But Morgan's announced a test for tomorrow, so we probably should go to bed indeed."

"Great!" Cas clapped her hands, grinning. "Now that we're talking about tomorrow morning, or rather… today's morning anyway, I have something fun to tell you guys!"

"There's something fun you haven't told me about yet?!" Jorien fake-protested with a glare at Cas, while Robin moved off the shared bed and back towards her own, where she placed the picture frame on her nightstand.

"Chill, I was gonna wait for you to see it yourself, but it's just too funny not to tell you." Cas giggled to herself, and Robin frowned when she sat back down with the girls. When Cas found something funny it was usually at the expense of others, and that always should make one weary at least.

"Out with it now!" Jorien nudged her friend in the side to stop her from giggling, while Cas almost rolled off the bed just laughing to herself. "C'mon, don't do this to us!"

"Yes, fine…" Cas sighed, as she tried to regain some composure. "So you know how Parker is friends with Dave, and Dave is Martin's friend, and Martin is friends with Gideon."

"Get to the bloody point already!" Jorien groaned, and the only thing Robin had understood was Gideon's name, who was one of Simon's friends. The one who didn't fancy Jorien; that one was Michael.

"I was about to!" Cas rolled her eyes. "Anyway, Simon told me that Parker and his friends are setting up this practical joke for tomorrow morning, and it's going to be absolutely hilarious!"

"What's it about?"

"They will put salt into the tea and coffee for the head table, and charm it so that people will only taste it two seconds after drinking it!" Cas was back to giggling to herself. "Just imagine, all the professors spitting out their drinks!"

"That's horrible!" Robin replied instinctively.

"That's hilarious!" Jorien laughed at the same time, and all three girls looked at each other for a moment of hesitation.

"I think it's going to be bloody hilarious indeed." Cas finally sighed, and made her way over to her own bed at last. "Our entire class could need the laugh before Morgan's stupid test, and I think he's set one for the sixth year NEWT class for the afternoon, too. But Simon isn't taking defense classes anymore, so I don't particularly care."

"Yeah… it's gonna be great." Jorien smiled and made for her bed as well. "Especially since nobody can hold us accountable for it."

Robin stayed sitting on the empty bed for a moment longer and didn't say anything at all. Practical jokes weren't her thing in general, but this one just seemed absolutely childish and unnecessary. Sure, it wouldn't do any harm either, but still… knowing about it now left her in a position she didn't want to be in. She could tell Snape about it and prevent him from getting pranked, but on the flipside that meant she would betray the girls, in a way. And it would be painfully obvious that she had been the one talking, at least to Jorien and Cas and Simon. For a moment, Robin felt angry with Cas for putting her into this situation in the first place. Then again, the girl hadn't meant any harm, and probably only wanted to share something she thought would humour her friends. But geez, couldn't they have done this any other day?! This kind of predicament wasn't such a great start to her birthday…

"Robin? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just… thinking." She replied evasively and finally snapped out of her head, only to see the girls already all settled into their beds. "I think I'll take a shower before going to sleep, some of that goo is still stuck in my hair. I'll be quiet when I come back, as always. Don't wait up for me."

"Alright." Cas sighed softly, and even as Robin got up and made her way to her own bed, she could see the girl smiling. "You're gonna have an awesome birthday, Robin. Don't worry."

Robin returned a quiet hum, not wanting to lie nor to spoil their enjoyment of this complot, and then she quickly gathered her things to make for the showers. Once alone in the dark bathrooms, she first tried to scrub the goo out of her blouse so that she could wear it again tomorrow without any pinkish stains, and once that was accomplished half manually and half magically, she finally went to scrub the goo off herself under the steady stream of hot water in the shower. Really, as soothing as the water was, as soothing as the night was, she still felt torn about the situation with the practical joke. Why, just WHY did that one piece of information have to put an otherwise very entertaining night on the line like that?! If she was honest with herself, Robin knew what she was going to do. But she still felt bad about it nonetheless. Then again, she shouldn't! It was her birthday and besides that she was very much in the right to spare her best friend from whatever kind of agony he was facing unknowingly. Telling him was the right thing to do.

Once she was cleaned up and dry again, she put on her pajamas and twisted her still wet hair up into a bun to fix it with her wand like she did so often by now. Then she grabbed her things and was on her way back to her room, still in full determination that she would find Snape before breakfast tomorrow and warn him of the impending doom at the head table. But after she had silently stored away all her items and taken a seat on her bed, that plan of action was shaken with a start.

"Robin?" Jorien's whisper carried over to her so very quietly that she barely even heard it in the first place.

"Huh?"

"Can… can we talk? While Cas is sleeping."

"Yeah, of course." Robin was quick to reply, frowning to herself however as she motioned to the door before stepping out into the hallway herself, with Jorien following two seconds later. Only once the door was closed entirely, the girl came straight to the point.

"I don't want that prank to be played, Robin…" She said in a quiet voice for they still could be overheard, especially out in the dorm hallway at one o'clock at night. "And I know you don't either."

"You seemed to be quite fond of the idea just an hour ago…"

"I certainly don't need to tell you out of all people what an act is." Jorien rolled her eyes, but the almost pleading expression still remained predominant on her face. "Sometimes getting along with people just requires adaption, and if it's not gonna be sincere, then an act will still do."

"Consider me impressed in that case." Robin raised her eyebrows at the girl in surprise for a moment, then came back to the problem at hand. "But why do you tell me this?"

"I know there is some weird understanding between you and Professor Snape… and I'm fairly sure you will want to warn him in advance, probably tomorrow morning. You see, I would like to spare Professor McGonagall the unpleasant experience, too, if I can… I really like her."

"Right… I remember that." Robin sighed under her breath, and then was back to frowning to herself. "And yes, I'm going to tell Snape about it tomorrow morning. Would you like me to tell McGonagall as well? I'm sure I can find her before breakfast."

"See, there exactly is the issue. You can't tell anyone before breakfast tomorrow."

"You can't talk me out of it, I-..."

"I'm not trying to talk you out of it, Robin! I'm trying to tell you that you literally will not be able to talk to Snape before breakfast tomorrow, because there's this plan that Cas and Simon and I have made, because of your birthday, and we will be around you at all times before the meal. You understand what I mean?"

"You mean I won't have an opportunity to tell him without Cas and Simon knowing what I did."

"Precisely." Jorien nodded, then sighed. "I know you can do things like this… And you've done things like this before…"

"Out with it."

"You have to stop that prank. Please… I know you can do impossible things, and I know you have way more to say in this place than anyone else I know."

"I don't have anything to say around here, Jorien. I wish I did, and I wish I could just call that Parker kid out without any evidence, but if I'll be caught up in you guys' scheme from my waking point tomorrow, I don't see how I could prevent it from happening without putting a serious strain on my relationship with Cas, and on hers with Simon."

"I know it's complicated… But that's why I need you to take care of it!" Jorien almost looked like she might start crying any moment now, and honestly Robin found herself surprised by how much the girl seemed to care about her favourite professor. It wasn't something she had seen in anyone but herself before now. "Please, Robin… I know it's silly to be so upset about it, but I know that letting it happen would make you as unhappy as it makes me. That's why I told you that we have these plans for the time before breakfast. Maybe play surprised at least when we tell you about it again tomorrow morning."

"Of course…" Robin nodded, then sighed, and her mind was already working on a solution. "I'll do what I can to stop the prank, okay?"

"Yes! Thank you!" Jorien let out a long breath in obvious relief, then tired a half smile. "I mean, at least you can be sure that Snape is still up at this time of night, huh? You usually return from your work with him way later than this."

"Yeah…" Robin replied absentmindedly, tracing the scar on her neck with her fingers as she frowned ahead at the hallway. Perhaps it really wasn't the worst idea to find Snape now and save him from the joke at least, if she already couldn't stop the entire thing; Jorien was right when she said that one o'clock at night was still early for them. He certainly wouldn't mind another brief visit from her even at this time, especially if it was to his own advantage. And if Robin bargained correctly, she could get him to warn McGonagall in the morning indeed, which would keep her ends with Jorien sealed. It wasn't even such a big deal now that she thought about it, and a decent solution to the problem. Why hadn't she thought about that right from the start?

"Earth to Robin!" Jorien said in that moment, drawing Robin out of her freeze even at the quiet sound. "You're daydreaming again."

"Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking about why I was once again being weird and trying to make things more complicated than they are."

"It's just who you are. But it always ends in something great, so don't worry about it. I should probably go back to bed now though, if I don't want to give myself away entirely tomorrow. You won't tell Cas that I actually hate this stupid joke, will you?"

"Of course not. I promise."

"Thanks…" Jorien sighed, then opened the door and waited for Robin to go in first, which however she didn't.

"You go to bed, I'll deal with the prank." Robin whispered to her, giving her an encouraging smile. "Goodnight."

"Night… And Robin? I love that you're weird, and so does Cas. Don't ever change that."

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hetacon · 4 years ago

Text

Midnight Stellar in the Making

Word Count: 2,400

Pairing: Logicality

Warning: Food mention (Let me know if I missed anything!)

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Summary: Patton knew that his boyfriend had always liked to work at the coffee shop down the street from their dorm but with all day essays, Logan ended up having to leave, only to spend the rest of the night writing at their little desk in the corner of their room, Patton tucked into bed. He had to spend some time away from his papers to make himself coffee at around 4 in the morning and it was a pain. With this in mind, Patton had a thought. What if Logan could’ve had somewhere to spend all-nighters where he didn’t have to spend time making coffee?

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Note: This is my Sanders Sides exchange gift for @oh-theatre based off of the concept I made in “Peanut Butter Cookies and Meaningful Conversations!” (Which you can find here though it’s not essential for this one!) It was a lot of fun to make so I hope you enjoy it too!

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“What I will definitely not miss is making coffee for all-nighters.”

That one comment set off an entire chain reaction for Patton and Logan’s lives and it was honestly astonishing how Patton had managed to create a successful local business with his college boyfriend.

Logan had made that comment in regards to them graduating from college. Patton had managed to make his schedule work out just fine but Logan’s was a little heavier than he expected, thus the relief from not having to pull more all-nighters.

Patton knew that his boyfriend had always liked to work at the coffee shop down the street from their dorm but with all day essays, Logan ended up having to leave, only to spend the rest of the night writing at their little desk in the corner of their room, Patton tucked into bed. He had to spend some time away from his papers to make himself coffee at around 4 in the morning and it was a pain. With this in mind, Patton had a thought. What if Logan could’ve had somewhere to spend all-nighters where he didn’t have to spend time making coffee?

The plan for a late night café was a plan a couple years in the making. Logan had gone on to focus on an ordinary desk job that got the bills paid, Patton was doing botanical research, and their lives went on as normal. While Patton wouldn’t have been able to afford much more than an apartment on his own, Logan’s parents had given them enough money to buy a decent house and the two got married sometime within that span. Any time that Patton wasn’t working though, he was researching, drawing up plans, making mock menus, trying out new recipes for pastries he’d enjoyed as a kid, and any work in between before he even considered bringing it up to Logan.

He knew his husband wouldn’t judge the idea or laugh but he might be a bit skeptical and wave it off, calling it nothing more than an unstable or impossible passion project that Patton had gotten attached to.

“So what you are telling me is that you want to put time and money into a late night café based off of a comment I made two and a half years ago at our college graduation?” Logan asked, raising an eyebrow at Patton.

“Yeah, I just... I don’t know, it got into my head and I just.. I couldn’t stop thinking about it!” Patton tried to explain, grinning nervously. “It’s stupid, I know, I just thought it could be worth a shot to bring it up...? Gosh, I don’t know, maybe this wasn’t worth it.”

“No no, hold on a minute.” Logan raised a hand, looking through the color code divided binder in front of him, reading through the laminated pages briefly. He took out a few sketches and designs Patton had spent an entire week making, running a finger over the lines slowly as his lips moved silently, mouthing words as he thought. “You’ve put a lot of effort into this, haven’t you love?” Logan finally asked, looking back up to Patton.

“Yeah, I suppose you could say that,” Patton laughed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“This is a wonderful idea. From what I’m briefly looking at, you’ve gotten a lot of major factors taken into account and they’ve been well-researched from what I’m gathering. Do you mind if I take a week or so to look over it and maybe work on some notes and thoughts about this?” Logan smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling in the slightest of ways that made Patton want to kiss the living daylights out of him.

“No, not at all, I don’t mind!!” Patton shouted, bouncing up and down with a broad grin overtaking his face. “You’re the best Logie, I couldn’t have picked a better husband!!” With that, Patton was tackling Logan to the couch, kissing him.

Logan spent a week reading through it as he had asked for and came back with some further research of his own, thankfully aided by his degree in business. It was therefore, an actual idea on the table rather than a starry-eyed vision in Patton’s head. They spent the next year looking further into it before Patton quit his job to devote himself to the café work full-time.

“I’m home,” Logan called from the front door as he took off his coat, taking a deep breath in.

“Hi sweetheart, how was work?” Patton asked as he came into Logan’s field of view, working on folding macaron batter, coconut if Logan remember correctly from their discussion last night.

“Fine, though it went slower than I wanted it to,” Logan sighed, rolling his head back to release the tension there. “Is there anything I can do to help you out right now?” He went over to where Patton was standing and kissed him gently, Patton happily returning the kiss.

“Yes actually! If you wouldn’t mind, could you make the filling I’m testing out for this batch? I have the rough instructions on the counter near the fridge,” Patton told him to which he nodded.

“Of course. How have the other recipes been going today?” Logan asked as he put on an apron, washing his hands before getting to work on gathering the ingredients his husband had listed on the post-it note.

“Well, the vanilla ones turned out well though a couple were a little messy looking. They taste good though! The mint chocolate ones tasted awful, I think I forgot to add something to the filling because I tasted pure Dutch cocoa powder. The worst thing I’ve ever put in my mouth. The others were decent but I made a few notes on fixing them so I want to try it out tomorrow. I’m just thankful I can make these in small batches, we’d be flooded in macarons otherwise!” Patton laughed as they worked.

“Are there any left that I can try?”

“Yeah, just be careful of the mint ones!”

They worked like that for a while, chatting as they went along with their day.

For Patton’s 25th birthday, Logan had gotten him an espresso machine to try out and while he had originally fretted over the price, Patton was soon working out new drinks that were ready for Logan to taste when he woke up in the morning for work. It was a little harder to gauge than pastries, since Logan was very grumpy and his comments weren’t exactly put together well due to it being his first coffee fix, but later in the day, Logan was able to give him more thorough notes on how his productivity was affected by it compared to his average cup of coffee. Patton of course made it a point to perfect his hot chocolate recipes as well.

Trying all sorts of recipes had been fun and with a box of handwritten recipes (mainly for the aesthetic) done and tucked away into one of the kitchen cabinets, design and theme planning came next. Logan had dabbled in a bit of graphic design while he was getting his degree so he was put up to that task when he had time after work. Patton had more of an eye for colors than he did though (which made sense considering his blue-yellow color blindness) so with a bit of input from Patton, they had a working idea of how they wanted to have everything looking.

A lot of the budgeting and finance aspects were taken care of throughout the whole process and after a year and a half, with a solid plan in place for nearly every aspect, they were finally ready for a really big step that would make this official. Location scouting and a name for the café were the only things left. They’d been having trouble with the name but figured that they’d come up with something when the time was right. In the meantime though, location scouting occupied their time.

Many of the buildings were gorgeous, Patton could picture each making a beautiful site for a café. He was a bit hesitant about prices, as he had always been prone to as a broke college student, but Logan assured him that they had enough money to work with. All they had to do was find the one they liked.

“We have one more place in mind in the morning, right Logie?” Patton asked with a yawn, pulling the blankets closer in his half-awake state.

“Mhm, none of them quite feel like the one,” Logan said softly, taking off his and Patton’s glasses and placing them on the nightstand before pulling Patton close.

“I’m sure we’ll make whichever one we choose absolutely perfect, just like we always do,” Patton mumbled out before he’d fallen asleep.

Patton saw Logan’s jaw drop as soon as they stepped inside, his eyes fixed on the rainbow of colors being scattered across the room from the huge glass dome directly over their heads, giving a perfect view of the sky above them.

This was the one, Patton knew this was the one as soon as Logan muttered out “We’ll see the stars.”

“Well what an absolutely stellar idea!” Patton joked with a light laugh to his voice.

Logan turned to him, snapping his fingers. “Midnight Stellar.”

“What?”

“The Midnight Stellar Café,” Logan explained, his pupils blown out wider than Patton had ever seen them, pure and unadulterated joy overtaking Logan’s irises as he grabbed Patton’s hands, pulling him in for a passionate kiss before twirling him around.

“Oh goodness!” Patton giggled, letting Logan lead them in an imaginary dance. He had never seen this before, Logan hadn’t ever looked so excited except for when Patton had proposed to him. He looked just as in love with the place as the subtle glint Patton saw in his eyes every day. It took his breath away. This was happening. He may have started this project out of his own wants but with the way Logan was looking and feeling right now, Patton could tell that Logan wanted it even more. Patton couldn’t possibly deny the man twirling him around in silly little circles, the rainbows of the glass ceiling catching in Logan’s hair and making him look luminous.

Logan was right about the stars, there was a perfect view, a wonderful stretch of the Milky Way striking right through the center of the skylight. It became their constant companion as they worked on getting everything ready. Lots of construction took place before they had sold their apartment and moved into an upstairs portion of the building. Luckily this building had a place for them to live in, a staircase connected to the back of the future café leading up to their new home. After the move and Logan quitting his job now, they devoted themselves full time to setting up everything. Painting, furniture, and the kitchen setup took a couple weeks but eventually it was all done and with Patton picking out some plants to add as well as various other decorations, it was ready. This was a reality.

Patton looked over the café from the front door, smiling to himself. A cluster of large black tables took up the middle of the room with various smaller ones lining the floor-to-ceiling windows. The walls were painted cobalt blue blending into indigo towards the ceiling, hand-painted constellation patterns covering the walls. Each table had a couple outlets imbedded into the sides of them, soft white lighting illuminated the café. The counter looked pristine and the pastry case would soon be showcasing months of recipe experimentation in the works. Of course, a glance up gave Patton another look at the now familiar Milky Way over their heads. By far though, Patton’s favorite part was the secluded little corner with beanbag chairs, a couple bookshelves full of some classic books he and Logan had enjoyed reading throughout their lives, and fairylights and plants lining the walls of the corner. As he finished his look over the café, Logan wrapped his arm around Patton’s shoulder and pulled him in close, kissing his temple.

The café opening honestly wasn’t too promising. No one showed up that first night. Patton watched the door insistently for hours. Logan at some point had to remind Patton that they were working on strange hours, since most people aren’t up and outside as late as 3 in the morning. The first 8 hours, from 10 PM to 6 AM, were the most boring and agonizing Patton had ever spent. Luckily though, business picked up. Within a few weeks, they had a few regulars, people who would pop in every few days or so. Some people would get something to eat before their graveyard shifts, some weren’t able to sleep because of insomnia, and some people just liked the night better. Patton enjoyed getting to talk with anyone that was willing to have a conversation with him while Logan managed the counter more often than not.

Getting off of their previous sleep schedules had been strange and working in the early hours of the morning had its drawbacks but overall, this was definitely not going to be something Patton would come to regret. Waking up in the afternoon with his husband, running errands while stores were still open, baking in the late evening after dinner, and watching as the stars started to peek out at them as they got the café ready for the night became such a simple joy for Patton. Watching Logan’s satisfaction every time he interacted with the customers or the two figured out a new recipe or when he helped someone with calculus homework while Patton took over the counter proved that this was the right fit.

Sure, it was unconventional. It might not have been anywhere near where either of them thought their lives would take them in their mid to late twenties. And maybe it had just started from a simple offhand comment by an entirely too tired college student.

For Patton, everything figured itself out just how it ought to be, and he was content.

______________________________

Taglist: @artissijules, @its-the-cat-queen, @myyoutubecorner, @virgils-paranoia, @anotheregofanficblog, @marshmallow-the-panda, @oh-theatre, @sanderssidesgiftxchange

#sanders sides #logicality #patton sanders #logan sanders #sanders sides secret santa 2020 #midnight stellar au #stan writing

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klynn-stormz · 4 years ago

Text

Written in the Stars

Hi everyone! Today is my day to drop my January Joy fic!! It was only supposed to be a one shot, but that didn’t work out so well, lol. I have split it into two parts and the second part should be posted within the next two weeks! So without further ado, here we go, I hope you enjoy it!

AO3: 1 |

Summary: Emma Swan is enjoying her small town life in Storybrooke, a place where she can raise her son, practice her magic, and lead a relatively normal happy life. What she doesn’t expect is Killian Jones moving to town for business and turning her quite life up on it’s head. She’s not about to let some stranger interrupt it, easier said than done when everyone, including her magic, seems to push them together

Part 1:

The snow-covered meadow glimmered under the full moon, a layer of untouched smooth snow had crossed the expanse of the forest Emma had walked through. There was something about the way the new snow shined brightly against the dark wood of the trees that made her think she had gone through a portal to a new enchanted realm. Under the watchful eyes of the moon and stars, Emma made her way to the middle of the meadow and took a moment to breath in the cold air. This was her favorite time, the sun had set long ago, the sound of the night animals was quiet and soothing, and not another soul was in sight. This was a time when she could be herself. She set her basket on the ground, it was already brimming with the herbs she had collected from the forest, and brushed the hood of her silvery white cloak off her face, then went to work on her favorite ritual.

The set up was easy; the symbols drawn in the snow, much easier than in the dirt in her opinion, the herbs needed laid on the outer circle, she stood with a goblet in the middle and uttered the enchantment into the still night. It was a little later this year than she normally preformed, but her duties in town kept her busy until nearly 10 days after the New Year. Henry had finally put his foot down and insisted she preform it tonight, seeing that it was affecting her so. Preforming it late wouldn’t stop the renewal ritual from working, as it always did, she had just felt off until she was able to perform it. The coven in town had performed one on at midnight of New Years, but she rarely participated in the coven activities, preferring instead to keep to herself.

Storybrooke was the perfect place for her and her son, from a young age her abilities had made it hard to stay in one home long. Left on the side of the road as a newborn she had been sent through the foster system, placed in families until her powers scared them to much for her to continue living there. Many hardships and trials had been sent her way, and each time she picked herself back up again. Eventually ending up in a quiet town of Storybrooke, finding others who practiced as she did. She wasn’t close to many of them, but they and all of Storybrooke had snuck their way into her heart and become family. Henry had taken to Storybrooke quickly, finding friends on the first day of school and worming his way into the hearts of all of the people there. His happiness at their newest home was what sealed her decision to stay, he needed stability and he needed a real home. Now, 5 years later, they were well settled in.

The ritual completed, the spell seemingly hanging in the frigid air, Emma breathed a deep sigh of relief. A feeling of comfort washed over her as the cleansing and renewal ritual did its job. She carefully picked up her basket and walked to the edge of the meadow, waving her hand the grooves she had created in the snow disappeared as if she had never stepped foot there. Making her way back through the woods to a cozy cottage at the end of town, one she was lucky enough to have a view of the forest and the ocean in, she could never have realized how the new year would change her life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You’re completely blowing this out of proportion!” Ruby complained.

“I’m really not.” Emma rolled her eyes while popping an onion ring into her mouth. She was having lunch with a few of her friends at Granny’s. Ruby was insistent on talking about the disaster that was Emma’s dating life, a topic that seemed to be a favorite among her, Mary Margaret, Ana and Elsa. “I’m not doing it again; I will not go through another Walsh incident.”

“That wasn’t my fault!” Mary Margaret exclaimed, flushing slightly. “How was I supposed to know that he was a creep? He seemed so nice as the bank! Besides, I’m sure that this new man, his name is James, will be much different.”

Everyone at the table stared at her till she muttered something about Emma becoming an old maid. Normally Emma would be put off and make them promise to stop setting her up, this would be met with mumbling and no eye contact. Normally. Today was different though, it was a cold fresh February morning, and there was something in the air today that made her feel content and almost… safe. It was a rare feeling for her, even in Storybrooke she rarely felt that way. She wasn’t quite sure she could trust the feeling, not one to get her hopes up.

“I think we should get back to talking about Ruby’s date.” Elsa suggested. She was reserved, much like Emma, while her sister Ana was the most people person Emma had ever met. She gave Mary Margaret a run for her money on talking and gossip.

“I’d rather talk about the new ship that just sailed in!” Ruby deflected.

“Storybrooke has a fairly large port, why would a ship be anything special?” Ana paused, then hurriedly continued. “Not that ship isn’t special, I mean everyone is special so that must make it sort of special. Although, if everyone is special no one is right? Wait no, that’s from the Incredibles isn’t it, I need to stop falling asleep watching movies. What I’m trying to say is what makes this particular ship interesting? I’m sure it’s very interesting, but we do get ships in and out of port all the time, and they are all interesting too, especially the ones that trade in magic, but you never want to talk about those ones. I think that we need to discuss—”

“Okay, that could go on for awhile so I’ll just answer your question now. The Captain and his brother are major hotties and we definitely need to find out more about them.” Everyone at the table was aware that once Ana got started it was best to interrupt her before they spent an hour listening to her ramblings. The current record was actually an hour and twelve minutes before they couldn’t take it anymore.

“Of course, it would be because you think they’re attractive.” Elsa rolled her eyes at Ruby’s wiggling eyebrows.

“Oh, believe me, if I wasn’t in an exclusive relationship, I would eat them up.”

“I knew it! I knew you and Victor were finally serious.” Mary Margaret’s gleeful cry made Emma’s ears ring.

“As fun as this is, I better get back to work.”

“Emma you’re the sheriff you can make your own hours, it’s a Monday, nobody wants to work on a Monday!” Ruby whined.

“And as the sheriff, it’s my responsibility not to spend three hours talking about potentially hot newcomers at lunch and instead protect and serve.” She responded drily. Turning towards the door, she was met with a loud chuckle and vivid blue eyes staring into hers.

“I assure you, love, I wouldn’t mind if you continued to talk about my attractiveness.” The man gave her a grin that might have stopped her heart, she wasn’t quite sure at the moment, to lost in his eyes. His dark hair brushed over his forehead, she wanted to run her fingers through the strands and brush her palms against the stubble lining his jaw. When she got ahold of herself, she prayed that she hadn’t been staring to long.

“As I said, I have better things to do.” She sniped, her defenses up, even if they felt different. Normally her magic would be on edge with a stranger near her, but now it seemed to lean towards him.

That was ridiculous, she was just imagining it.

She hoped.

“Well, then it’s best I introduce myself to the law enforcement of this lovely town. Killian Jones at your service.” He bowed slightly and her eyebrows went up.

“Planning on needing the Sheriff’s department anytime soon Mr. Jones?”

“Only if the Sheriff is the one to respond.” His wink sent a shiver through her that she worked hard to keep hidden.

“Emma Swan then,” Forcing her voice to sound clipped and uncaring. He reached down and took her hand; the reaction of her magic was immediate. Bursting around her in little near fireworks that only she could see, she panicked and attempted to reign it in. Her magic never showed itself to other people unless she willed it to; not even Mary Margaret, Ruby or Elsa had ever seen it, though they knew she had it. He didn’t help any by lifting her hand to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. The magic continued to burst around her until he dropped her hand.

“I should be going.” A quick mumble and a nod of her head was the last thing he saw before she rushed out the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For the rest of the day Emma stewed over her magic, it had taken her a long time to come to terms with what she was, and even longer to learn to control it. As light magic was magic that was inherited and based on emotion, it was harder than dark magic. While dark magic took practice, research and patience, it did not require emotion; Emma’s magic was some of the strongest that Storybrooke had seen in a long time and they relied on her control over it to keep their little town off the radar of those who would exploit it. The local coven worked hard to protect the town, and expected her to do the same.

She needed to know why her magic reacted differently to him. A flash of Neal went through her mind and her stomach curled at the memory. A man who had taken advantage of a young girl all alone in the world, who had made her believe she was special. The only good thing she had gotten out of that relationship was Henry, and Henry would always be her top priority.

“Hey mom!” Henry barreled through the door, eyes bright and full of his adventures from school. Her shift finished, she grabbed her jacket, phone and radio, and hugged him.

“Hey kid, ready for some dinner? I was thinking pizza.”

“Works for me! We have a new project in English, we get to write a short story.” He dumped his backpack on her desk, then sheepishly picked it up at Emma’s raised brows. “I was thinking I could interview you about some of your magic and—”

“How about we get some dinner, go home and you can tell me your story over dinner?” Emma asked, grabbing the phone to order.

Later at their apartment, while they ate their dinner and had the tv playing in the background, Henry told her about his idea. He had gotten nearly to the end when he paused. “I don’t want to spoil the whole story for you.”

“I thought your teacher said you were supposed to write a short story kid.” She teased him, impressed with his imagination. He’d always had such a wonderful view of the world; Emma was pretty sure she would be buying copies of his books one day. “Why do you need to interview me?”

“Well, if the princess, Evil Queen, and Dark One are going to have magic I need to know how to write it! I don’t want to make any mistakes.”

“Alright, tell you what. You get all of your homework done on Friday, and on Saturday and Sunday we will go through a few basic.” He grinned and hugged her tight. When he was all tucked into bed and Emma was reading in her room, she couldn’t help but think of blue eyes and dark hair. Her magic sparked again, a light skittering across the room. She would worry about everything tomorrow. Banishing thoughts of him, she willed herself to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Killian Jones had seen much of the world in his days, he had seen wonders and mysteries, magic and mayhem, good and bad people, and most everything in-between. As a Captain in the Navy, before he lost his hand in a tragic storm that he nearly lost his brother in, and as a sailor building a business with his brother when they left the Navy. He had been everywhere he’d ever dreamed. Yet, none compelled him as much as the blonde haired, green eyed sheriff that had magic bursting around her as he kissed her hand.

He’d heard the lasses at the table talking about him and his brother. The long-haired brunette excitedly exclaiming their attractiveness and looking for gossip about them, while the blonde goddess rolled her eyes and looked for an excuse to leave. Seeing her had nearly stopped his heart, he was quite sure of that, only to have it pounding in his ears when their eyes met and time stopped. He could have stared into them forever, wanting to lean closer and brush his lips over hers. He wanted to gather her in his arms and find a private room to kiss her till neither could breathe, after all he wouldn’t need air so long as he had her. He was brought back to himself by the sound of her voice, a bored tone with a hard edge, as if she was putting on a show with it.

Her eyes shined out at him and he was sure she felt the same as he had, though he was no less embarrassed at where his thoughts had gone immediately. He reigned himself in, flirting just enough with her to get her name. Emma Swan. Fitting, he mused, she had the elegance and grace of one, with high enough walls he knew he’d get pecked if he pushed.

He didn’t think he’d mind much.

The moment his lips touched her hand, the white sparks of magic had lit around them, fascinating him. He would have asked her what they were, but for the panic in her eyes when she realized what was happening. He pretended he saw nothing; it could wait till a later date. He had a feeling it would be long till the next meeting.

When she was gone, he’d ordered at the counter, found a table and waited for his brother. All of his thoughts revolved around Emma.

“She’s totally single you know.” Came a voice from behind. He turned in his chair to see the group of woman Emma had been with staring at him, a little bit of mischief in their eyes. The one who spoke gave him a wolfish grin. “In case you were wondering.”

“The sheriff?” He clarified.

“That’s the one, utterly single and refusing any sort of set up.” The woman with a pixie hair cut and the kindest eyes he’d every seen, replied. “She’s naturally suspicious of people, so you’d have to try pretty hard if you wanted anything to happen.”

“That is,” Now a woman with frost in her hair and ice in her voice spoke up. “If you’re planning on sticking around.” He smiled at that.

“My brother and I recently moved our business headquarters to this town, as it’s a good port and unique. We’ll be here for a long while.”

“Oh that’s just lovely! Emma takes awhile to warm up to people, but you’d definitely want her on your side since she’s the sheriff. Just don’t break any laws and annoy her and you’re good to go.” The final woman had a voice that sprinted instead of walked, he wasn’t sure her mouth was even moving at the speed the words came out.

“Thank you, ladies, for the advice. I’ll take it into account.” His brother walked through the door then and he was distracted greeting him, nodding a farewell to the women as they left. He smirked slightly when the icy woman ran into his brother and uttered a quick apology, the moment couldn’t have been more than ten seconds and his brother looked starstruck. Looks like they’d both have better reasons to make Storybrooke their new home.

Liam and he spent the next hour going over some of the logistics of moving the company. It was almost done, the last thing to deal with was selling the old building they’d had back in England. The move to Storybrooke would be better in the long run, while the port wasn’t as big as the one they’d been at, most of their business and suppliers were closer, saving them money in the long run, and they’d just signed three new contracts with new contacts.

Having heard of Storybrooke’s… unique circumstance, they were drawn to wanting to experience it for themselves. Their mother had been open about her magic from the time she had met their father, he had never really liked it, but dealt with it to be with her. She raised Liam and Killian to believe and practice as well, and though she had died when both were still young, her lessons had stayed with them when their father did not. Neither Liam nor Killian practiced regularly, feeling there were others much more talented that could keep the balance better. However, they preferred a place where they felt comfortable and free. Both had stepped off their ship onto the Storybrooke dock and could feel the rumors had merit. There was magic here, and it seemed to welcome them.

“Well little brother, it’s time to find some housing I believe. I’ve scheduled a meeting with a realtor tomorrow who will walk us around some of the houses they have here.” Liam clapped his brother on the back, heading towards the back that led to the Bed and Breakfast rooms they’d booked for the week.

“You mean younger brother,” Killian corrected. “and as long as you know I’m getting my own place then that should be fine.”

“Of course, you’re not living with me anymore. It’s time for you to stop mooching off of me and get your own space.” The teasing tone made Killian roll his eyes as he bumped into his side a little harder than necessary.

“Goodnight Liam, see you tomorrow.” Killian went to sleep and dreamt of green-eyed swans and magic.

#captain swan fanfiction #cs ff #klynn-stormz #cs january joy 2021

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jingabitch · 5 years ago

Note

O o o o can you do one with the boys of fucked up were one of the punishments goes to far and she not really feeling it that day and readers like they hate me and I’ve been a really bad girl there going to get rid of me and I’ll be alone again so she gets all depressed and tries super hard because she thinks she’s been bad

hi anon, sorry it took me a while to write this, but i hope you enjoy it! the first part of your ask sounded like subdrop but when i researched subdrop it didn’t really cohere with the second half of your request, so i just wrote it as a subdrop fic. Hope this is okay! :)

Word count: 4.5k-ish

Warnings: yandere | explicit language | descriptions of sexual acts (BDSM) | description of subdrop | angst

Series index

You bite your lip and cling on to Hoseok’s shoulders desperately, trying to will your limbs to stop trembling. Just a little more, you think to yourself, clenching your jaw as you push your forehead into his collarbone.

Tonight had been the most intense scene you’d ever done with the boys, Hobi and Jin tag-teaming you. It was unusual, since one of them at a time was usually more than enough for you, but when the boys had come home from practice today, past midnight, you could tell that something was wrong between the two of them. Your hesitant question had resulted in a massive punishment, although you know by now that they’re really just working out their own stress.

From what you could tell based on their sniping at each other initially, even as both of them snapped orders at you, they’d had a fight during dance practice. You don’t mind helping them work through the tension, but if they don’t finish soon you’ll literally pass out on Hobi’s lap.

He’s deep inside you, the plug with the tail he likes so much in your ass, and you’re full almost beyond bearing, but it wasn’t enough for them. Jin is behind you, one hand stroking your hip while he croons soothing words into your ear, his other hand busy stretching you out further to take him.

He’s leaning as close to you as he can without touching your back, which you appreciate, because the sweat on his chest would definitely sting the cuts on your skin from his brand new cat-o-nine-tails.

“Jin… it’s too much,” you pant, your nails digging into Hobi’s skin. If he notices that you forgot to call him ‘master’, which you’re supposed to do during a scene, he doesn’t make a big deal out of it.

He pauses. “Use your safe word, then,” he murmurs into your ear. You sob and press your face deeper into Hobi’s neck, but don’t say it.

Hoseok’s hands settle on your body, one on your waist and the other stroking the back of your head. “Good girl, you’re such a good girl for us,” he croons in your ear, and if you weren’t so strung out at the moment you might have made a quip about how it was easy to say that when you’d gotten yourself off on his shoe.

Of course, at that point in time he’d been calling you a bad, disgusting, dirty whore who didn’t deserve to be touched.

Finally, Jin decides that you’re prepped enough, and lines himself up against you. Your body is tense as you lean against Hobi for support, causing Jin to chuckle, his breath puffing out against your skin. “You need to relax, baby,” he says, and you let out a deep breath as you concentrate on doing just that.

“Good girl, you’re such a good girl,” he says, encouraging you as he slowly splits you open. You whine and squirm, full beyond bearing, but he doesn’t stop, holding your hips still even as your nails catch on Hoseok’s back.

When he’s finally all the way in, you rest your head on Hobi’s shoulder and pant as your body adjusts to the overwhelming fullness, and they just make soothing noises at you. After a moment, you nod once, just enough that they can see it, and they start moving, timing their thrusts so that at least one of them is always inside you, and Jin reaches around to stimulate your clit.

Almost against your will, you feel the orgasm building, and you whine and whimper, gritting your teeth against the sensitivity that borders on pain.

“You gonna cum for us, baby girl? You’re such a nasty slut, aren’t you, so happy to have your holes stuffed,” Hobi says in a dangerous tone, right in your ear, and that’s it, the degrading words sending you stratospheric. For a moment, everything is white as you orgasm harder than you ever have in your life, all your muscles locking up as you throw your head back, bracing it against Jin’s chest.

Then everything goes black as you pass out.

When you open your eyes you’re back in the bed you share with Yoongi, cleaned up and snuggled under the duvet. When you roll over to check the time on the wall clock, you see that it’s late morning, and as you lie in bed, slowly becoming more aware, the soreness of your body starts to filter in.

Groaning, you struggle into a sitting position, leaning against the headboard as you massage your temples. For some reason you have an awful headache, in addition to the soreness in most of your body, especially between your legs, and the cuts on your back are stinging, aggravated by the contact with the headboard.

“Yoongs?” you call out, wincing at the dusty sound of your voice and the pain that shoots through your throat. When there’s no response, you reluctantly toss aside the covers and stand up, wincing at the protest of your muscles as you stretch, then go to the drawers to fish out one of Yoongi’s shirts.

When you open the bedroom door, Yeontan immediately runs over to you, his tail wagging, and you look down at him, smiling. “Hello,” you murmur at him, leaning down to pet him. “Where’s everyone?” you ask, as if he could give you an answer.

He just barks at you then pants, and even though you know it’s completely ridiculous, you feel a little hurt. “Just hungry, huh,” you say a little bitterly as you go to grab his food and scoop it into his little doggy bowl.

While he’s digging in happily, you drift over to the fridge. You aren’t that hungry, but usually Jin prepares something for you to eat during the day when they have to leave you alone, especially after a scene.

Pulling the door open, you look for the neatly stacked Tupperware containers that usually have food in them. There’s nothing.

The pain lashes through you, and you fall to your knees, still holding on to the fridge handle, looking up pathetically at the fridge shelves. It’s not empty by any means, but there’s no food that’s ready to eat, just a bunch of ingredients and sauces. You could cook something for yourself, but you’re too tired and besides, you don’t have much of an appetite.

Forcing yourself to your feet, you go to pour yourself a glass of water, and notice a small pile of cash next to the pitcher. There’s a Post-It note attached to it.

Sorry I didn’t have time to cook for you before we had to head to the studio, baby girl. Buy yourself some nice takeout, okay?

You rip the Post-It note off the money, which you completely ignore, and chuck it angrily in the bin, stomping back to your bedroom and slamming the door shut as you go. You can barely hear Yeontan whining in confusion outside at your uncharacteristic behaviour.

You don’t fully understand why you feel so awful either, physically sick and so unenergetic, but it’s all you can do to curl back up in bed and pull the covers over your head. The urge to cry overwhelms you, and you sob quietly, feeling so alone and sad.

When you wake up again, it’s to Yeontan whining and scratching outside your bedroom door and you open it reluctantly, letting him prance around your ankles. You still feel awful, worse than you ever have, but the dog needs to eat, so you go to feed him and change his pee pad.

While Yeontan is eating, you go to check your phone, sighing deeply when you see that there are no text messages. You know it’s not uncommon for them, especially with the comeback coming around, to not use their phones while at the studio, but for some reason today it feels especially like a rejection.

“Tannie…” you whine to the dog when you come out, sitting next to his food bowl. “Why don’t they want me anymore?”

Yeontan’s ears prick up, so you know he’s listening, but he doesn’t stop rooting in the bowl for the last pieces of kibble.

“Is it because I’m dirty? I probably liked being punished a little too much, there’s something wrong with me, what kind of pathetic person likes something like that…” you continue as he finishes his food, licking his chops as he sits back to watch you, head cocked like he’s really thinking about it.

You go to pet him, and he licks your hand for a moment before abruptly getting up to use the pee pad in the corner.

You still haven’t eaten, but you’re not hungry, so you just go to the fridge to grab a handful of strawberries and a bottle of water, avoiding the pitcher because you don’t want to see the pile of cash they’d left there like you’re a whore.

Taking your phone with you, you go to sit on the floor in front of the couch, feeling a little like you don’t deserve the comfort of the sofa. It’s getting late, so they should be coming home soon, and everything will be all right again. They’ll shower you with kisses and affection and stop the voices in your head from getting too ugly, because try as you might you really can’t shut them off.

Yeontan comes to sit on your lap, pleased that you’re on the floor so it’s easy access, and you pet him mindlessly as you wait for them to come home.

Lost in the increasingly negative spiral of your thoughts, time slips away from you. The next time you snap out of it, it’s to the obnoxious buzz of your phone against the marbled floor. You flip it over and see the text from Namjoon on the group chat.

Kim Namjoon [22:05:08]: sorry baby girl, we’re going to stay over at the studios tonight to catch up. :( take care of yourself, okay? We miss you!

Without bothering to open the text or reply, you lie down on the floor. It’s cold, but that’s okay.

It’s not like someone like you deserves to be comfortable.

You manage to fall into a light doze, even on the floor. When you wake up, it’s completely dark and your phone keeps buzzing against the floor, making that awful noise.

“Fuck,” you growl, picking it up and flinging it across the room. It flies into the wall with a satisfying sound and then drops to the ground, and you hope for a second that you’ve broken the goddamn device, but it continues vibrating, the force of the motion causing it to rotate slightly.

No matter; at least it’s not next to your head. You clench and unclench your left fist a couple of times to try and get the feeling back in your hand, having lost it because you’d been sleeping on your left arm, then settle back onto the floor.

Yeontan is gone, probably having had enough of the cold floor. It’s fine, though. Everyone leaves in the end. You should have realised it by now; all the relationships in your life play out in the same pattern. Why would things have been different with the boys or the dog?

You’re so fucking stupid, for letting your guard down, believing that someone like you could ever be loved. You, with your sick, twisted desires.

Maybe this is what you deserve.

Yoongi scowls down at the cell phone in his hand. He must have called you twenty times by now, and you’re not picking up, which is rather uncharacteristic of you.

“Give it up, hyung, she’s probably asleep,” Jimin advises him.

“I just want to check on her. She didn’t reply Namjoon’s text,” Yoongi counters. It bothers him, the fact that you’ve gone radio silent all of a sudden. They’d just finished dance practice five minutes ago, and he immediately made a beeline to his phone to see what you’d replied on the group chat. Sometimes it’s cute emoji-laden encouragement, other times it’s a selfie of you cosied up in the bed with Yeontan. He was shocked to find no response from you at all.

“You shouldn’t wake her up, hyung,” Hoseok pipes up.

“Yeah, she probably needs her rest after last night,” Jin says with a greasy smirk that he shares with Hoseok.

Yoongi scowls. “You shouldn’t have gone that hard last night,” he reprimands them.

Jin shrugs. “She liked it.” He still shivers at the memory of how hard you came around him and Hobi that last time. It had triggered their orgasms too, and they hadn’t noticed that you’d passed out until they were done cumming their brains out.

Brow still furrowed in displeasure, Yoongi doesn’t give in. “Still,” he mutters, although he has to admit that they have a point. If you’re resting he shouldn’t disturb you.

Maybe he’ll try calling you again tomorrow morning.

The next time you wake up, it’s not dark anymore, and Yeontan is back, insistently patting your face with his paw to wake you up. You push him away with a frown.

“Just want me for food, huh?” you say in a raspy voice and a sniffle. You’re not sure if it’s because you still feel a little teary or because of the cold you’re sure you’re coming down with after spending all night on the floor without even a blanket, but it’s not like it matters.

Yeontan, oblivious as always, just barks happily at you.

With an annoyed sigh, you get up to feed him, because as displeased as you are with the way he - and everyone else in your life, apparently - treats you, you can’t just let him starve.

Watching him wag his tail as he eats, you roll your eyes before picking up his water bowl to refill it. Usually your love for the little dog is overwhelming and you find him cute all the time, but today his enthusiasm for life is incredibly grating.

Grabbing another bottle of water from the fridge, you try not to look at the empty spot where the Tupperware containers containing Jin’s cooking would normally be stacked, or the pile of money still sitting on the counter.

You don’t need the reminder that they don’t love you.

Wiping your nose on the collar of the T-shirt you’re wearing, you take a few steps back towards the living room before just giving up and collapsing in the hallway, facedown. Yeontan, wondering if this is a new game, comes to stick his nose in your ear, snuffling and wagging his tail.

“Stop it,” you groan halfheartedly.

Yeontan doesn’t listen, barking as he continues to nose at your face.

“Go away!” you shout, throwing your hand out to shove him away from you. It collapses to the ground, outstretched, and Yeontan, shocked from how roughly you hit him, sits down and whines in confusion.

You don’t move from your position until the boys come home that night.

“Baby girl, we’re home!” Jin yells once he steps through the front door, surprised that you didn’t come to greet them like you usually do. It’s not even that late, before your usual bedtime. You’ve been acting weird since yesterday, and all of them were concerned when you went completely radio silent. None of their calls today even went through, and you wouldn’t reply to any texts, so they decided to come home earlier than they normally would to check on you.

Yeontan comes sprinting towards the front door, barking urgently, and Taehyung, sensing that something is wrong, bends down to tend to the animal. “What is it, baby?” he asks, letting the dog jump on him and wriggle around before trotting back to the kitchen, looking back to make sure Taehyung is following.

He almost trips over you, lying in the hallway, barely conscious.

“Y/N-ah!” he exclaims, falling to his knees and putting a hand on your back. His loud cry draws the attention of the others, who thunder after him after hearing the panic in his voice.

Yoongi curses when he sees you lying there, and you can hear him, but you can’t quite muster up the energy to turn over and greet him.

You aren’t sure you want to, either. He’ll just send you away, and you don’t need to hasten the inevitable. Maybe if you close your eyes really hard, time will stand still and you can stay there with them.

Your wishes go unheard, however, as Yoongi skids to a halt on your other side and kneels down, turning you around roughly. You can feel his terror in the trembling of his hands, and you feel a sudden sick sense of satisfaction that he feels even a little bit as bad as you do.

“Jesus, you’re burning up,” Yoongi mutters, pulling your torso onto his lap as he presses the back of your hand on your face. Yeontan, seeing that Taehyung has stopped following him, comes back to tug on his sleeve.

You feel a little bad - you hadn’t managed to get yourself into an upright position to feed the dog all day, and his water bowl is probably empty too. Taehyung gets up to follow Yeontan, and seeing him pacing in front of his empty food and water bowls, immediately snaps into daddy mode.

“Noona, let’s get you to bed, okay? What happened?” Jeongguk picks you up off the ground into a bridal carry, letting your head rest against his chest as he carts you off to Yoongi’s bedroom, the rest of them following somewhat haplessly.

He places you down on the bed so, so gently and the care he takes with you opens the floodgates. All of a sudden, you can’t stop crying, and the boys around you look alarmed. Jimin, ever the affectionate one, immediately climbs onto the bed next to you and hugs you tight, rubbing your back as you sniffle unattractively into his chest, probably getting your gross tears and snot all over the undoubtedly expensive shirt.

All the crying causes you to cough loudly and violently, until it feels like they’re going to rip your chest apart. Namjoon runs to get you some water and approaches you uncertainly, handing you the mug like he’s giving something to a wild animal.

Jimin takes it for you and holds it to your mouth, tilting it just enough so you can sip slowly. After you’ve drained the whole thing at his insistence, he hands the cup off to Jeongguk and continues rubbing your back.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks quietly, and you blink up at him with swollen eyes.

“Oh, sweetie,” Yoongi sighs, grabbing some tissues from the box on the nightstand and wiping your face gently. “What’s gotten you into such a state?”

“I… I don’t know!” you cry, bursting into tears once again and they just hug you. You explain through sobs and fits of coughing how you felt so awful when you woke up yesterday but weren’t sure why, how unloved and unwanted you thought you were when you realised there wasn’t any food in the fridge when there usually was something waiting for you, the fucking money on the counter, and the way your thoughts had spiralled out of control over the past few days.

As Yoongi rocks you in his embrace, he glares over your head at Hoseok and Seokjin, who look increasingly ashamed as you continue telling them your story. Seokjin’s shoulders are by his ears now, and Hoseok won’t look up from his feet.

“Baby girl, we’re so sorry we made you feel that way,” Namjoon says quietly, reaching out to stroke your hair. “We should have been more conscientious of your feelings.”

“Yeah, Y/N-ah,” Hoseok adds. “It was our fault for pushing you so hard when we knew we were going to be away the next day. We should have been around to take care of you when you went into subdrop.”

You look up in surprise. Subdrop? You’ve never even heard that term before, and the confusion is clear on your face.

“It’s okay, love. We’ll explain more about it later. For now, just know that none of it is your fault, okay, sweetheart?”

Sniffling, you nod.

Seokjin finally steps forward and takes your hand. “I’m so sorry for neglecting you, baby,” he says, pressing apologetic kisses to your knuckles. “It will never happen again.”

For the first time in days, you crack a small smile at him.

“Now, have you eaten anything today?”

You think about it. “I ate some strawberries yesterday,” you finally offer.

The boys’ expressions vary from shocked to horrified. “You haven’t eaten anything all day today?!” Seokjin fairly shrieks.

“I guess not,” you shrug.

You can hear his ranting as he sprints to the kitchen to cook you something. Too tired to have much of a reaction, you just sink back into Yoongi’s embrace, letting him prop you up against the pillows like a doll as he presses kisses to your temple.

“I love you so much, baby,” he keeps repeating to you.

When the soybean stew is ready, all of you migrate to the dining table. Seokjin, impressive as always, even managed to rustle up some side dishes - leftover kimchi, kelp salad using the seaweed he used to make the stock for the soybean stew, and rice.

You don’t feel hungry even as you sit down and pick up your utensils, but once the first bit of soup and rice is in your mouth, you realise that you’re actually ravenous. You stuff your face with the food, nearly scalding your tongue more than once on the soup. Hoseok, sitting next to you, rubs your back and laughs. “Slow down, love. You’re going to hurt yourself,” he advises.

You ignore him - you haven’t had a proper meal for two days - focusing on how amazing Seokjin’s food tastes. The last time they had time off, he made his own doenjang and you can literally taste the difference between his homemade goodness and the storebought stuff.

When you’ve cleaned out your bowl and all the side dishes, you sit back with a little sigh, only now noticing that all of them were watching you and getting a little awkward.

“Um…” you hum nonsensically to break the silence.

“Baby girl…” Namjoon sighs. “Why didn’t you tell any of us you weren’t feeling well?”

You look down at your hands curled in your lap, ashamed. “I didn’t want to be a burden,” you confess finally.

“Sweetie… you should always tell us if you feel bad,” Jimin admonishes you gently.

“I didn’t think you wanted me anymore,” you say in a small voice, looking down to avoid making eye contact with any of them, which is why you’re caught off guard when Seokjin lifts you off your chair and into his lap.

“Baby girl, you never need to worry about that, okay? We will always want you.” The certainty in his voice makes it difficult for you to continue doubting his words, so you just nod in response.

“Good girl,” he says, stroking the back of your head with his big hand. “Now, take your medicine and go to bed, you’re still sick.”

You start to acquiesce, then jerk upright in his lap, even though the motion makes you woozy. “Oh no, I was so mean to Tannie,” you gasp in horror, squirming away from him. You make your way as quickly as you can to the kitchen, where his treats are kept under the sink. Rummaging around for the rawhide bones you know he adores, you grab one from the plastic bag and sit down, shaking the bone at him.

“Come here, baby boy,” you coo at him, smiling when he runs straight to you. Yeontan is not the kind to keep grudges, but you still feel bad, stroking him and pressing kisses to his head as he starts gnawing on the bone.

“I’m sorry for being mean just now,” you repeat over and over again while showering him with affection.

Taehyung huffs in amusement. “I’m pretty sure he’s forgotten all about it,” he says, watching you rub your face in Tannie’s soft fur.

“Do you? Do you forgive me for being a big meanie, my fluffy baby?”

Yeontan ignores you, too focused on the rawhide bone.

“Okay, I think you should get to bed now,” Namjoon nags, seeing as Yeontan is way too busy to give you any attention anyway.

“Okay, good night baby boy,” you say to Yeontan in your pet voice, petting him one last time before getting up to go to bed.

When you’re all tucked in, Jeongguk comes in with a cup of water and medication for your cold. “Here you go, noona,” he says, hovering over you anxiously while you down the pills. The boys pile on to the bed one after another, curling up comfortably in their usual positions.

“Hobi-oppa?” you ask in a small voice.

“Hmm?”

“What’s subdrop?”

He hums. “It’s when subs get really sad after a scene.”

“Oh…” you say thoughtfully. There must be more than that, you think.

Thankfully, Namjoon jumps in with a more detailed explanation. “There’s two aspects to it - the emotional and physical. Some subs get really depressed and sad after a scene, especially if there’s no aftercare, for various reasons. But after such an intense experience the hormones in your body can drop sharply and that causes the physical symptoms.”

That makes more sense, you think as you nod along. It would certainly explain why you had that inexplicable headache yesterday morning, and how upset you got over what you’d done with them.

“Is there a way to prevent it?” Yoongi asks, concerned for you. He knows what Hoseok and Jin are like, and asking them to dial it back might just prove impossible.

“Not that I know of, and I think it varies from person to person. I guess you just have to figure out how to get through it,” Namjoon says, rubbing his chin as he tries to recall what he’d learned from that long-ago Google session.

You hum along, half-asleep now. “It’ll be fine,” you say, cracking a giant yawn.

“We’ll be more careful next time,” Jin says contritely, wriggling closer to drop kisses to your forehead. Jimin squawks in indignation as he’s crushed under Jin’s weight.

It occurs to you briefly as you fall asleep that this wouldn’t have happened if you’d had a more normal relationship - you’d have researched everything way more thoroughly before trying new kinks, especially ones that were so extreme. You tamp down the thought ruthlessly.

This is what makes your boys happy, and it’s fine. You like it too. It’s fine.

#yandere bts #bts yandere #bts yandere au #request fic #fucked up #ot7 x reader #ot7 fic #bts #min yoongi #park jimin #kim taehyung #jjk #kim namjoon #jung hoseok #kim seokjin #bts idol au

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jemelle · 4 years ago

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reflections {ncis}

rating: g

pairing: n/a, ziva david & abby sciuto

summary: 'Family. That’s what they are, aren’t they?' (or: Ziva & Abby celebrate Hanukkah)

a/n: set season 3 aka 2005. written for day 10 of the holiday special organized by @blakes-dictionxry, though i did stretch the prompt (when do i not?) i’m not Jewish, so if i’ve misrepresented something, please let me know! thank you for reading and chag chanukah sameach!

my masterlist

you can also read this story on ao3 here!

“There are two ways of spreading light: to be the candle or the mirror that reflects it." – Edith Wharton

Ziva is supposed to be on vacation. Right now, she should be at a nice hotel outside of Annapolis, taking a bubble bath and reading the kind of magazines that Tony would never let her live down. It’s the day after Christmas, after all. Judging from the way some people in this country act, if anyone should be able to convince people to hold off on committing crimes for a few days, it’s the Christian God. Yet somehow, she’s still at work.

The phone call had come at eight in the morning, jolting Ziva out of a rare lie-in. She had reached for the receiver in the darkness, cursing loudly in Hebrew as her hand banged into the lamp on the side table.

“What is it?” she had groused without bothering to check the caller ID, voice still heavy from sleep. There was only one person who would dare disturb her this early, and she already had a good idea of what Gibbs was going to say.

“We got a case,” was the response, much as she had expected. Ziva had sighed, hanging up and running a hand through her unkempt hair. She really did not get paid enough for this.

In the end, it had turned out to be a simple case. One hard look at the brother and he had confessed, a jealous rage taken too far. No red herrings, no international crime syndicates. A waste of their investigative skills, if she’s being honest.

The case itself had finished around four in the afternoon, but then there was the paperwork, and it was entirely possible Ziva had been putting off last week’s work as well. By the time she’s finished all of that, it’s too late to drive to her (non-refundable, she feels the need to add) reservation if she wants to arrive at a reasonable hour.

She’s getting ready to leave, promising herself that she can still salvage what’s left of this day, when McGee tells her that she’s needed urgently in Abby’s lab. As far as Ziva can remember, she hasn’t asked Abby for anything recently, so she approaches the lab carefully, half-expecting to find a sobbing Abby on the floor. Why Tony and Tim expect her to be able to deal with emotions, she’ll never understand. She may be a woman, but Ziva thinks she’s proven time and time again that emotional connection is not her forte.

The lights are dimmed when Ziva rounds the corner into Abby’s lab, but Abby herself is nowhere to be seen. Instead, Ziva sees a neatly set table with two place settings and, strangely, a hanukkiah.

Tonight is the second night of Hanukkah. Ziva knows that– she had packed her own hanukkiah in her suitcase, intending to light it and pray when she reached her hotel room. But, to the best of Ziva’s knowledge, Abby isn’t Jewish.

Ziva raps lightly on the door to the lab, watching as Abby emerges from a shadowed back corner of the room. She sure can hide, Ziva will give her that.

“What is this?” Ziva asks, gesturing at the spread in front of her.

“Happy Hanukkah!” Abby says, as if that answers the question. She steps further out of the shadows and Ziva can see that she’s holding a frying pan.

“Thank you.” Ziva is confused, to put it mildly. While she appreciates the sentiment, she's still no closer to understanding the rationale behind Abby’s actions.

“Well, I thought… you don’t really have any family in D.C, so I researched what to do!” Abby approaches the table, depositing what Ziva can now see are latkes on the plates. Leaving the pan on the nearest lab surface, she flicks on the lights, displaying blue and white garlands hung around the room. “I even got you a present!”

“Oh, Abby.” She really is touched, especially given the rocky start their relationship had gotten off to. This is a gesture she might expect from Jenny (well, at least the dinner portion. She doesn’t think Jenny has ever been one for tinsel), but Abby doing this is a true testament to her giant heart.

“But?” Abby prompts, and Ziva forgot that while Abby is kind, she is first and foremost always willing to speak her mind.

Ziva feigns innocence, the best she knows how to. “But what?”

Abby pouts. “There’s a but, I can tell.”

No one is immune to the Abby pout. Ziva relents, sitting down in one of the chairs and motioning for Abby to join her.

“It is just that Hanukkah is not very big in Israel.”

If Ziva were home right now, she would probably be helping to light Rivka’s family menorah, saying her blessings, and (Ziva’s personal favorite) having latkes and sufganiyot. When she was eight, Ziva had eaten so many sufganiyot that she’d sworn off them forever. Naturally, her family had never let her live that down. They had been a family once, before Eli had left and Tali had died and Ari had become someone she no longer recognized.

“It’s not?” Abby’s voice pulls Ziva out of her memories.

“No. It is a big deal in America because Christmas is such a big deal. Children see all their friends getting presents and they want them too. In Israel, Hanukkah is about family.” Sure, there are parties and festivals, but none of this extravagant gift-giving she has seen in America. Ziva has nothing against adapting traditions, but the American celebrations hold nothing of value to her.

Abby’s face falls, and Ziva mentally kicks herself. “It is lovely, though,” she says, reaching past Abby to dim the lights again. There. Without the garlands in sight, it reminds her much more of the Hanukkahs she remembers.

“I know I wasn’t always… the nicest to you,” Abby says, and Ziva laughs, because that is the understatement of the century. “But… I really like you, Ziva David, and even if I didn’t, you’re part of our family now.”

Family. That’s what they are, aren’t they? Though they are her team by definition, the word team can’t possibly encompass all they meant to her.

Gibbs is the only one who knows her secret and the only one she would have trusted with it. Tony and McGee are always by her side, ready to insult or defend her at a moment’s notice. Ducky is an ever-friendly ear and Jimmy a kind presence. Ziva includes Jenny in her count as well, though she isn’t sure Jenny would have included herself; she is always watching out for them, playing the games none of the rest of them want. And here is Abby, so different from Ziva in almost every regard, trying to make her feel at home.

If she were more sentimental, Ziva would call it a miracle. She had lost her first family a long time ago, even if Eli and Rivka are still alive. That a group of people are willing to accept her, to give her a second chance, makes her heart swell and her eyes water in an utterly un-Ziva fashion.

A tear must escape her eye, because before she knows it Abby is handing her a tissue. Ziva takes it, only slightly mortified, dabbing at her eyes until they’re dry.

“I am okay,” she says in response to Abby’s unasked question.

Wordlessly, Abby pulls a square box out of her pocket and slides it across the table. It’s wrapped in patterned paper, sparkling white stars against a midnight blue sky. Ziva slides a careful finger under the seam of the paper, trying not to rip it.

Inside is a plain white mug. Ziva picks it up with two hands, spinning it around to reveal a simple Z printed on it.

“Thank you, Abby,” she says sincerely, before chuckling. “Now Tony will not be able to pretend he accidentally forgot which coffee mug is his.”

Abby’s smile drops, and she looks as though she might cry. She opens and closes her mouth a few times, but no sound escapes. Ziva waits patiently, because getting information out of Abby when she’s not ready to speak is like trying to get an internationally wanted criminal to talk.

When she finally speaks, Ziva has to strain to hear her. “I’m sorry… it’s just that the way you said that reminded me of Kate. I miss her.”

“Kate sounds like a wonderful person,” Ziva says. When she had first joined, that might have been a lie. She had quickly gotten sick of hearing how amazing Kate had been, of trying to measure up to a ghost. Now, Ziva knows that she can’t try to be anyone but who she is, and she only wishes she could have met the woman who apparently was more than a match for Tony.

“She was,” Abby responds, and now she’s the one who’s crying.

Ziva leans across the table, letting Abby hold her hands while she sobs. After a little while, Abby lets go, wiping her eyes with another tissue pulled from the depths of her lab coat. Absent-mindedly, Ziva picks up the matchbox lying by the hanukkiah, turning it over in her hands.

“Do you know the story of Hanukkah?” she asks. Abby shakes her head, eyes still watery. Ziva smiles, letting her head fill with memories of Hanukkahs past, she and Tali and Ari all clamoring to be the one to tell the story.

“Well,” Ziva says, striking a match against the box and using the match to light the shammash, the tallest candle in the hanukkiah. She removes the candle from its holder, using it to light the first and second candles, before returning it to its place, Abby watching her raptly the entire time. “Although I could begin in many, many places, our story really starts with a temple in the city of Jerusalem...”

tags: @robins-gf, @chmpgneprblms

#ncis #ncis fanfiction #ziva david #abby sciuto #evas holiday special #ziva x abby #shippy if you squint #*mine #*fic

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sanktnikolais · 4 years ago

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Maybe The Night

A/N: tbh i should really stop writing college au but KLJHSDFKASDF this au is my poison so have this 7.6k mess i’m so sorry for being distracted as always

for @wafflesandkruge‘s college au (tiff where’s my injured zoya)

Word count: 7616

AO3

Zoya winced at the sound of the infuriating blond’s excited voice on the phone.

“Three days alone with you, Nazyalensky? Is this a blessing in disguise?” Nikolai, the biggest idiot she’s known for years, practically cheered. How could he have such endless energy even at night?

"I'd say it's a curse, Lantsov. I'd have to endure a week's worth of you babbling," Zoya muttered as she zipped her suitcase close. "I still haven't forgiven you for taking the midnight flight."

"But it's the last one available if we want to make the plant visit in the morning," he reasoned out. "Well, aside from the fact that Professor Juris might set our asses on fire if we don't make it there in time."

Zoya laughed darkly. "I'm his favorite student," she said with a bit of pride. "So basically the only ass in danger here is yours."

"Harsh."

"Honest." And before Nikolai could even say something that would prolong their conversation again, she quickly added, "Where are you, anyway?"

"Look outside."

Zoya raised a brow, setting the phone beside the suitcase on the bed. She stomped to her apartment window and looked out.

The curb below was empty.

She frowned and, as if Lantsov could see her, he let out a loud laugh.

"Wait, my bad. I said that too early. The cab is just rounding the corner to your street."

Zoya was in the mood to murder a certain blond tonight. "Why did the saints put me in this situation of being your research partner?"

Nikolai chuckled. "Maybe because we're both one of the top tier students in our program?"

"Ah, yes. Thinking highly of ourselves again, yeah?"

"But you ask for a reason, so I gave it," he said, and then there was a shuffle and muffled voices. After a moment, he said, "Alright, I'm outside of your complex. For real this time."

Zoya narrowed her eyes and looked down the window again. True enough to what Nikolai said, their cab was parked in front of her building. She could already see his blond hair standing out under the light as he got out from the car.

"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes," she said. "I'll see you in a few."

With that, Zoya ended the call and grabbed her suitcase, double-checking if she had forgotten anything else before leaving her place.

They had been tasked together to visit a certain geothermal power plant on the other side of the country that could help them in their plant design in their last year of their program as per Professor Juris’ words. Visits were usually conducted by incoming fourth year students during the summer term, but the both of them were only in the beginning of their third year. So it was definitely in their advantage.

What Zoya hadn’t anticipated was being paired with the biggest idiot on the planet. She had been talking with their professor quietly in the faculty room and then Nikolai came in with his signature grin that became even wider when Juris told him that they were paired up for the trip.

Perhaps it’d be a blessing in disguise because Zoya would probably let him do all the talking and questioning.

Nikolai was already meeting her halfway down the steps of her building and getting her suitcase when she stepped out. She frowned as it was snatched from her hand and he put it inside the trunk.

“Are you being a real gentleman or are you going to plead for the window seat again?” Zoya eyed him suspiciously as he opened the car door for her as well. She wasn’t the type to ignore kind actions, but she’s also not the type to fall for it easily. “Because it’s not going to happen.”

His smile faded. “I am deeply hurt, Nazyalensky,” Nikolai said a bit too dramatically, putting a hand to his chest for emphasis. Then with a pout, he said, “Please?”

Zoya only snickered and got in. “Probably next time,” she said.

***

The flight was an agony to get through. They were expected to arrive at eight in the morning, and it meant having to endure Nikolai having to babble for at least another six hours. By the fourth hour, Zoya was starting to feel more irritated as the lack of sleep from yesterday came back to hit her. She had never been comfortable to fall asleep during flights and the book she had been reading had hit a boring point, so she just slammed it close with a huff.

“Bad mood, eh?” Nikolai asked, looking at her above the thin frames of his glasses. He showed no signs of exhaustion even though it was almost five in the morning. She figured she’d ask his secret for staying lively the whole day. “Tired of reading? You try to get a bit of sleep. We still have a few hours.”

Zoya snorted. “I would already be if I could,” she mumbled, leaning back in her seat more comfortably. “I can feel sleep around the corner but it won't come.” She made a move to grab the glass of wine on the small table in front of him, but his hand was faster and he held it out of her reach.

Nikolai wiggled a finger. “Na-uh, you’re not yet twenty-one, truffle.”

“Oh, really now?” she said, her eyebrows furrowing. “Who could tell?”

“No one. But I’d rather not let you succumb to the temptation of underage drinking.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“A good one, that is.” Nikolai downed the drink in one gulp and set the glass back on the table. He gave her a wink. “Now the temptation is gone.”

Zoya only rolled her eyes and looked away. Her head was already throbbing as she put a hand up to her temple and began massaging it. There were still a few hours of agony to go.

It was then that Nikolai offered an earbud to her, a small smile on his lips. “Music helps me sleep sometimes. It might help you too,” he said. When she didn’t take it right away, he added, “Don’t worry, I have a great music taste.”

“If this doesn’t have any The Fray, I’m suing,” Zoya said, making Nikolai laugh as he showed her the screen on his phone. She huffed in approval and put the bud in her ear. “Alright, I’ll bite.”

Nikolai grinned. “That’s the spirit,” he said. “Just try to get a bit of shut-eye. If it still doesn’t work, I’ll tell you my whole life story so you won’t be bored.”

Zoya wrinkled her nose at the thought. “I’ll definitely force myself to sleep because that sounds horrifying.”

“Harsh.”

“Honest.”

“Now sleep, I’m ignoring you from now on.” Nikolai pushed his glasses up his nose and went back to reading.

“Idiot,” Zoya mumbled, but closed her eyes anyway. It took only a minute for heaviness to finally wash over her. Perhaps the infuriating blond did have an effective way for inviting sleep over.

She let sleep take her with Rainy Zurich echoing in her ears.

***

Zoya woke to a nudge on her shoulder and a gentle voice saying, “Rise and shine. We’re here.”

She opened her eyes groggily, and she looked up to meet Nikolai’s hazel ones that were twinkling with amusement. “What—” she stopped abruptly when she realized that she was clutching on his arm and she had fallen asleep on his shoulder. And his jacket was draped around her. She quickly let go of him, feeling her face heat up as she handed him back the garment. “You should’ve woken me much earlier.”

Nikolai had the audacity to chuckle. “But you looked comfortable enough. It’d be a crime to disturb you,” he said.

The next half hour was a blur through her still-hazy mind, and then they were out of the airport. Nikolai had bought them coffee from a nearby vending machine as they waited outside for their ride to the hotel they were going to stay in.

“Took me ten minutes to find one that was willing to go through the shit traffic,” Nikolai said over the rim of his small cup. The steam from the coffee clouded the lenses of his glasses with moisture, and he immediately reared back with a wince. Zoya stifled a laugh. “It should be here any minute now.”

Zoya took a sip from her own cup, feeling the warmth of the drink soothe her morning mood. It was already quarter to nine, but she felt like it was way earlier than that. “What time was the visit again?”

“Around ten, I think? Hold on, let me check.” Nikolai pulled out his phone and began scrolling. “We have at least an hour to unpack our things and—oh, what the hell.”

“What?”

“They moved it tomorrow,” he said with a wince, showing the email to Zoya.

She closed her eyes as her head pounded. “Saints,” she muttered. Not having the two-day visit schedule happening today meant having to spend the whole day with the infuriating blond. Merely thinking of that made her question everything she had done to get this. “That’s a pain.”

Nikolai sighed, putting the phone back to his pocket. “At least we have the whole day free,” he said. And then, as if he remembered something important, he cursed under his breath. “With free, I really meant review. I keep on forgetting about the midterm in Heat and Mass Transfer on Monday.”

“Wait, that’s on Monday?”

“Unfortunately.”

Zoya made a face. “What the fuck,” she muttered. If things could get any worse, she hoped that it’d end after the next one. Erase that—she hoped there’s no next. “Let’s start the problem set. Come over to my room in the evening. ”

“Such a bold declaration, Nazyalensky.” Nikolai wiggled an eyebrow, and then winked at her.

Zoya frowned, and it took her a moment to realize how her previous statement sounded. She kicked his leg. “Idiot.”

Nikolai laughed as he feigned being hurt from the kick. Thankfully, their ride finally arrived and it saved the infuriating blond from being beaten up further. He automatically got his suitcase, and also went to get Zoya’s in his other hand before walking over to the car’s trunk.

“Acting the gentleman again, eh?” she said as she opened the car door and got in the backseat.

He slipped in a moment later, telling the driver the name of the hotel they’re going to. He turned to her after. “It’s for having to endure me for the rest of the drive to the hotel. Traffic sucks.”

“Who says I have to endure you when I can sleep instead?” Zoya scooted a bit further, making sure to put a good distance between them. She wasn’t falling asleep clutching him again. “I can sleep easier this time.”

“Whatever you say.”

***

Nikolai checked his watch for the nth time since they left the airport. It’s almost an hour ago, but they were still on the road. Also not to mention that his right shoulder had gotten numb from the weight of Zoya’s head leaning on him.

So much for ‘sleeping much easier’; he was being made as a body pillow. Not that he was complaining.

After several more minutes, the car finally pulled over the front of their hotel. Nikolai turned his head slightly to the side and was immediately met with the sight of ebony hair. She surprisingly smelled of wildflowers.

He shook his thoughts away as he nudged her gently with his other arm. "Rise and shine, Zo," he said cheerily.

Zoya jolted awake, and, when she realized that she had fallen asleep on his shoulder again, she practically jumped back as if she had been burned. The redness on her cheeks didn't escape his eyes.

Nikolai stifled a laugh as he looked her over. A stray hair had stuck on her cheek, and he fought the urge to brush it away. "You did fall asleep easier this time," he said, and then he tapped at his cheek.

She seemed to understand the gesture and she tucked her hair back to her ear. "That didn't happen," she said, but it sounded more to herself than to him.

"Ah, but it already happened twice, Zoya dear," Nikolai said with a grin. "It'd be much harder to forget it."

Zoya rolled her eyes and kicked his shin again, then got out of the cab. Nikolai shook his head as he paid the driver before following the raven-haired storm out.

The lobby was a bit lively as both people and valets were bustling around. Looking at the number of guests, Nikolai felt a wave of unease in his stomach. He didn't know where it came from, but he knew better than to ignore a gut feeling.

They walked over to the front desk and Nikolai instantly put on his signature grin.

"Room for two please," he said.

The receptionist smiled back, but he noticed that it was apologetic. Oh no. Nikolai dreaded her next words. "I'm sorry, sir, but I'm afraid that the guest before you had taken one of the last two rooms currently available."

Nikolai blinked. Oh no, indeed. "So basically, you're saying that there's only one room left," he said, though he already knew the answer beforehand. He just needed to hear it for a second time to make sure he wasn't imagining things.

"Yes, sir, that is what I meant."

So this was the gut feeling from earlier. He didn't know what to make of it.

Zoya appeared at his side a moment later. "Can you please double-check?" she asked the woman. "You might have possibly missed one."

Nikolai looked at the receptionist expectantly as she peered over the screen. After a long moment, she only said, "One queen room on the fifth floor." She shook her head, her apologetic smile returning. "That's really the only one available."

Whatever the world had in store for them both was definitely not amusing.

Without much of a choice, Nikolai said, "We'll take it."

He immediately felt Zoya's sharp gaze on him the moment the first word came out of his mouth, so he turned to her with a grimace.

"The next one is far more distant from the plant, Nazyalensky," he said sheepishly. It was actually true, but the way she was glaring at him made him forget whatever explanation he was about to add. "Stop murdering me with your eyes."

Zoya's jaw twitched in annoyance. "Why didn't you make a reservation earlier in the week?"

Nikolai could only answer with a wince. "That's my bad."

"Yeah, that's definitely your bad."

"Hey, at least I don't have to come over to your room to review this evening."

It was most likely the wrong thing to say. Zoya Nazyalensky could make anyone cower with a mere raise of an eyebrow, but a glaring Zoya Nazyalensky? It only meant murder.

Nikolai was saved when the receptionist gave them the keycard.

"Enjoy your stay," she said, oblivious of the murder-by-glaring that was happening between them.

If she doesn't murder me by tonight, I probably will. But he could only give a smile as thanks before he turned to Zoya.

Nikolai held out the card to her. "I'll buy you coffee for next week?" he offered with a sheepish smile. He could only hope that she would accept.

She considered him for a moment, and then she snatched the keycard from his hand with a huff. "A week," she echoed, pointing a finger at him.

A grin appeared on his face; he knew he was already forgiven. "Of course," he said. "I know you can't be mad at me for long."

"Whatever," she mumbled before walking past him.

Nikolai only smiled at her retreating form. Why did she have this certain effect on him? He'd never know.

It's probably just the way it always had been.

***

Evening came, and they already had settled nicely in the room. It was great, cozy and a bit too big, except for the fact that it only had one bed. Nikolai was hogging the whole desk, while Zoya was on the bed beside it.

Both places were a mess of notebooks and papers and two frustrated students.

Nikolai was furiously scribbling over his own copy of the problem set he had printed, the organization of his solutions in absolute shambles as he fought against the time to answer a problem.

A few moments later, Zoya let out a string of curses.

"What?"

"I used the wrong value of heat capacity,” she said, and then she was shuffling through the handbook nearest to her.

Nikolai tossed a thin stack of paper at her. “Don’t use the handbook’s data, it’s evil. Van Ness’ data is more accurate.”

“Isn’t he using the one from the handbook?”

“He doesn’t. He just says he does but when I checked, it’s all wrong. Such crimes.” Nikolai got distracted from his momentum, and his mind ended up shutting down. He slammed the pen down on the table, removing his glasses. “I have no idea if the postponed visit is a blessing or a curse.”

Zoya huffed. “Probably both, but more on the latter. Because I’m stuck in the same room as you,” she said, turning back her attention to the paper he gave her.

Nikolai turned his chair to her direction, feigning a hurt expression as he did. “But it’s economical to have one huge room instead of two.”

“Good for the economy, yes. But for me? Probably not.”

“Harsh.”

Zoya waved the pen at him. “Honest.” She began scribbling on the paper on her lap again. After a long moment, she beamed, her grin lighting up her whole demeanor. Nikolai fought a smile on his lips. “I got it.”

He raised a brow as she handed him back his data sheet along with her solution. He eyed the paper with surprise, glancing at his watch. “Eight minutes,” he said, regarding her with respect. “I got lost in the sea of numbers.”

“Eight minutes in hell, yes. When it’s actually the exam day, those eight minutes will be twenty.”

“Blink, and five minutes will pass.”

Zoya laughed darkly. “That is one way to say it,” she said, leaning back on the headboard and closing her eyes. She looked exhausted, Nikolai noticed. The dark circles around her eyes were already prominent.

“Why don’t you try and get some sleep first?” He looked at the clock on his laptop screen. “It’s almost midnight. We’ll have to get up by eight.” He paused, and then added, “Don’t worry, I’ll take the floor.”

“Don’t be stupid, the bed is big enough for the two of us. And the floor is cold, for sure,” Zoya said, cracking one eye open to glare at him. “Just make sure to stay on your side of the bed.”

Nikolai put a hand to his chest. “I am definitely moved, Nazyalensky. I think this is one of the rare times you considered my well-being,” he said jokingly.

“Stop being annoying or I’ll take it back and make you sleep on the balcony.”

“Such cruel intentions.”

“Only for you,” she said, giving him a wink that caught him off-guard. It wasn’t usual that Zoya would answer back to his playful remarks. But whenever she did, it always surprised him. She began fixing her things in a neat stack. “Aren’t you going to sleep?”

Nikolai blinked, shaking himself out of his thoughts. He didn’t realize he had been staring at her; his lack of sleep was catching up to him. “Maybe later. I’m not tired yet.” He smiled, gesturing to the coffee mug beside his notes. “Besides, I still have fuel.”

Zoya put her things on the space at the other end of Nikolai’s table. “I need to know your secret of having endless energy.”

“Unlimited supply of coffee and optimism usually do the work.”

“I only have the former.”

Nikolai laughed and put his glasses back on his eyes. “I can probably pass some of mine to you,” he said.

“I’d take it.” Zoya settled at the far right side of the bed, crawling under the blankets and putting it until her shoulders. And then she mumbled, “Don’t overwork yourself too much.”

He had barely written anything on the paper when he stopped again. Nikolai glanced over Zoya, who had already begun snoring, a soft smile twitching on his lips.

Perhaps being stuck in one room wasn’t so bad after all.

***

Two hours and endless yawns later, Nikolai felt sleep pulling him from his work. He was almost done with his problem set that had twenty problems, but he figured he’d continue it sometime later after they got back from the first day of the plant visit. He thought that they’d get free time to stroll around or lounge in their room. Or just sleep in throughout the day, as they had always lacked sleep due to their tight schedule.

But the midterm in one of their major subjects wasn’t getting extended or moved, and like the very punctual students they were, they’d only started reviewing less than a week before the actual exam.

With a tired sigh, Nikolai took off his glasses and put it on the top of the messy stack of papers. The clock on the lower right of his screen showed 2:05. Six hours sounded enough.

He looked at the bed, seeing Zoya sprawled across the bed and almost occupying the whole bed. Nikolai scratched the back of his ear with a grimace. So much for staying on their own sides of the bed.

“Stay true to your words at times, Zo,” he muttered, already considering sleeping on the floor. But when he looked down at the carpeted floor, it didn’t look as inviting as the sheets on the bed.

Nikolai sighed as he settled on the other side, near the very edge, trying to balance himself on whatever space was left for him. He made sure to not wake up the sleeping dragon beside him as he pulled the covers around his shoulders. Their close proximity only added to the warmth he felt all over his neck.

Zoya shifted, and he felt her presence much closer on his back. Nikolai sighed exasperatedly.

Saints, he’s probably going to die early.

He shook his head. He was going to stay on his side of the bed until morning, and he’d make sure to do it.

Nikolai moved a bit closer to the edge, maintaining a distance between him and Zoya, before closing his eyes and letting sleep take over.

***

The sound of the blaring alarm echoed through the room, and Zoya groggily cursed under her breath. She had forgotten to set off her usual early alarm during weekdays.

“What the hell?” a voice mumbled. Why did it sound very near?

She looked up with squinted eyes narrowed due to sleep, her gaze meeting the very familiar, and also groggy hazel eyes. It took Zoya a moment to process everything. When she finally did, her eyes widened.

Her head was nestled on Nikolai’s chest.

And his arm was wrapped firmly around her shoulders.

A beat, and then Nikolai was literally jumping out of the bed as if he were burned, his face sheepish and apologetic at the same time. A wince was evident on his face as he opened his mouth to speak. “Saints, I’m so sorry,” he said, terror lacing his voice. He raised both arms in surrender. “I didn’t—” He stopped, shaking his head. Then he repeated, “I’m sorry.”

His usually combed back hair was sticking out in all directions and she had the strong urge to brush it back from his forehead—

Zoya averted her gaze, mentally chastising herself. “It’s fine,” she said, though it felt too forced for her own liking. Her heart hammered in her chest and she took a deep breath in hopes to calm her down. But it still seemed futile. With much more conviction, she said, “It’s fine.”

She rubbed at her arms, feeling the absence of extra warmth from him fade in the coldness of their room. The alarm was still blaring, and Zoya reached over the nightstand to turn it off. When she finally did, she stayed on her place with her back to Nikolai, whom she felt his gaze trained on her even without looking.

She knew that the infuriating blond had slept late again, just as he always did, she felt bad having to cut his sleep off for at least two more hours. Nikolai could never get back to sleep once he woke up from his slumber.

“I’m sorry, I forgot to turn it off.” Zoya looked at the numbers at the top of her screen. 6:02. Too early. She glanced over her shoulder, still not trying to meet his eyes. “I’ll get some early breakfast. You can shower first.” She narrowed her eyes at him, her usual snarkiness not going so well. She was really caught off guard with what just happened. “Make sure you’re done when I get back.”

Zoya got up and quickly left the room before she could even hear his reply. She had no idea what she would say if she stayed for a bit longer.

It was nothing, she told herself. But the still pounding of her heart said otherwise.

When she got back half an hour later with their breakfast, Nikolai was shrugging on a dark button-down shirt and combing—more of attempting to—his hair at the same time, clearly in a hurry. Zoya almost laughed at the sight.

The blond seemed to notice her presence by the door and turned to her, offering her a grateful smile as he went over her and took the coffee from her other hand. “Let me guess,” he said, “black coffee?”

“Black as my soul.” Zoya could still feel the awkwardness between them, but it wasn’t as heavy as earlier. “Be a dear and set up the table on the balcony while I shower, will you?”

“Of course,” Nikolai said, taking the brown paper bag from her hand. “Anything for you.” He gave her a wink before walking to the balcony, whistling in his usual off-key tune.

Zoya eyed his retreating form with a tired sigh. It was going to be a long day.

***

“Seriously, I feel like a week has already passed since we arrived,” Nikolai complained over the bed, making Zoya snort from her place from the table. He frowned, eyeing her above his glasses. “Alright, whose alarm blared at six in the morning and cut off my sleep to three hours?”

“Are we playing the blame game now?” Zoya tried to forget the night before, but it seemed branded into her mind. “It’s good to wake up early sometimes, Lantsov.”

Nikolai wrinkled his nose. “Easier said than done, dear.”

The first day of the visit lasted for a few hours; it covered mostly the overview of the whole production and the kinds of equipment used. Nikolai handled most of the talking and asking, effectively pleasing their guide Mr. Grigori, who was the head engineer.

Zoya was more focused on the concepts and the actual process, which would be covered in the next day.

After their visit, they had a late lunch in a small diner near the plant, because Nikolai was complaining about his growling stomach that wouldn’t last until the trip back to their hotel. So it involved them lounging there far longer than necessary as they had begun arguing—again—on something about the process mentioned to them by Grigori. Anyone who was within earshot probably had frowned and looked at them weirdly.

Now evening came and it was time for them to review or just pretend to review, but Nikolai decided to hog the bed this time because it was ‘his turn’ as per the infuriating blond’s words.

Zoya shuffled through the stapled papers that were Nikolai’s solutions from last night. “You’ve finished all twenty items?” she asked in bewilderment. “What time did you sleep?”

“Three,” he replied with a wince. He was putting away his things from the bed. “I’m retreating for the night. The numbers are already flying out of the pages and I can’t get them back.”

“It’s ten in the evening.” Zoya glanced at the clock on her laptop screen to confirm. It was only five minutes past ten. She raised a brow as she turned back to him. “And you’re sleeping? Is this a miracle?”

Nikolai sighed. “Yes,” he said, “and also because you might hog the whole bed again and I’m left dangling on the edge.”

“No, I didn’t.”

"Yes, you did, Nazyalensky."

Zoya's mind decided to make her remember about their position earlier this morning, and it immediately made her face heat up. "Alright, I admit my mistake," she said, closing her laptop.

"Zoya Nazyalensky, admitting her mistake?" Nikolai said, removing his glasses for more emphasis and dramatic effect. "Is this a miracle?"

"Shut up, or I will smother you in your sleep."

"Such cruel declarations."

"Only for you."

Zoya stood up and went to her side of the bed, crawling under the covers with a contented sigh.

"You're sleeping too?" She heard Nikolai ask beside her.

"Obviously, you idiot," replied Zoya with narrowed eyes. "And also because I'm making sure you won't hog the whole bed."

Nikolai gasped dramatically. "I don't splay myself in an undignified manner like you." He arranged some of the extra pillows in a line between them. "There's our boundary, okay? Make sure you stay on your side."

Zoya rolled her eyes and scoffed. "I'd say the same to you, Lantsov."

***

Apparently, it still happened again.

Zoya woke up to the sound of soft snoring, the smell of mint immediately invading her nose and waking her mind up. She looked up to see Nikolai’s still-sleeping face inches from her own, his arm wrapped around her waist as hers was around his torso.

She had a second to admire his peaceful look before she realized that they were snuggling again.

With a firm tug, Zoya pulled away from his arms, effectively waking the blond. His eyes widened instantly and he reared back.

"The pillow line didn't work," Nikolai said, wiping a hand over his face. He gave her an apologetic smile that looked more of a wince. "Sorry."

Zoya waved a dismissive hand. "It's fine," she muttered. She was taking the couch tonight.They were flying home tomorrow, anyway. She got up from the bed and turned to him. "Your turn to get breakfast. I'm going to shower."

Nikolai raised a brow. "Just like that? No 'good morning'?"

Her reply was throwing a pillow over to his face before disappearing to the bathroom.

***

The second visit was a bit better, though it went longer than the one they had yesterday. Zoya was completely engrossed in the processes Grigori was explaining, and it earned an amused chuckle from the infuriating blond to which she answered with a stomp to his foot.

When the tour was over, Grigori had adored the both of them enough for him to give his business card and tell them that they could intern in the plant in the near future.

Zoya finally considered the trip as a win after the hapless events that happened to them in the past few days.

But the bad luck seemed to return right after they left.

It had been sunny for a while, and then suddenly the skies decided to rain down heavily. And, of course, being the good students they were, they hadn't bothered to bring an umbrella on their way here.

After a long, shivering ride back to the hotel, they made it back to their room.

"I swear, the world is throwing shit at us on purpose," said Zoya the moment the door was shut. "The rain came out of nowhere."

Nikolai laughed lightly. "Ah, yes. Always expect the unexpected, truffle."

"I always expect the worst, Lantsov."

"Then consider this as one of the worst scenarios." He gestured to the bathroom. "You go first, you might get sick."

Zoya raised a brow, taking in his appearance. He was much more drenched from when he covered her head with his jacket the moment the rain had fallen. She eyed him with concern. "Are you sure?" she asked. "Your state of dress is much worse than mine."

Nikolai only waved a hand, a smirk evident on his lips. "Go on, Nazyalensky. Don't go soft on me now."

She only rolled her eyes in disbelief. Still the idiot.

***

Nikolai felt exhausted. But the trip was over and they'd be heading back tomorrow. It didn’t take that long for them to pack as they were both a bit organized with their things—all except in their notes and solutions.

He was just closing his laptop after writing a brief introduction of their plant visit report, as he wanted to retreat a bit earlier because they have the morning flight tomorrow, when he noticed that Zoya had been too silent. It was only ten in the evening, but she was already curled up to her side of the bed.

"Zoya?" Nikolai tried calling out to her, and, as he had initially expected, there was no answer.

He felt concern twinge in his chest as he went to check on her. When he was near enough, it was only then he realized that she was shivering despite the blankets wrapped tightly around her shoulders.

Nikolai eyed her with worry. "Zoya?" he asked gently, and then he reached a hand to her forehead. She was burning up. He quickly knelt down beside the bed, brushing her hair away from her face. "Zoya, love, you have a fever. Have you taken any medicine yet?"

Zoya's eyebrows were drawn tightly, her face scrunching up as if she were in pain. "Already did. . . .an hour ago. ." she muttered. She clutched the blanket tighter around her. Then she added, "I feel like shit."

Weirdly enough, it made him laugh in relief. At least she was still herself. "That's already a good sign of recovery," Nikolai said, tucking the covers around her more. "You'll feel a bit better in the morning."

"Hmm…"

He considered it for another moment, but he figured that Zoya was in no shape to travel as early as five in the morning even if her fever broke after a few hours. It would still be hard for her.

Giving a quick call to the airlines, Nikolai requested a reschedule on the next flight in the afternoon. But all the afternoon flights back home were already booked, so the result was them having another red-eye flight at eleven next evening.

Zoya would probably axe him again for it, but it was better than having her force out of her rest while she was recovering from her fever.

Nikolai slipped under the covers when he got the new finalized schedule of their flight. He looked over Zoya's still-shivering form. He only hesitated for a second before reaching out and wrapping his arms around her, tucking her head under his chin.

She was warm enough to suffice for the coldness inside their room, and Nikolai pulled the covers tighter around them.

Even in her state, Zoya made an attempt to move away from his arms. "No," she mumbled weakly. But then after a short struggle, he felt her shift closer to him as if she were finally convinced. "You'll get sick too…"

Nikolai laughed lightly. "I'll be fine," he said softly. "You were actually the first one to shower after being drenched in the rain but you were still the one to get sick." He paused before jokingly adding, "And besides, you're hogging the whole blanket all to yourself."

"...idiot."

"Don't worry, I'm your idiot," he said. "Now go to sleep."

"Whatever."

A moment later, Zoya was already snoring. Nikolai pressed his cheek against her hair and closed his eyes.

Sleep came comfortably this time.

***

He woke several hours later to some gentle nudging. Nikolai groggily opened his eyes and met Zoya's tired ones, his eyebrows furrowing.

"What?"

"Our flight home, what time is it again?"

Nikolai leaned back with squinted eyes, putting a hand to her forehead instead of answering. She still had a slight fever, but at least she was able to speak straight now. "Don't worry about it, get some more rest," he said, feeling the heaviness on his eyes coming back. He tucked her back under his chin and closed his eyes. "You can still sleep in."

He had momentarily forgotten that Zoya wasn't easy to convince. "I remember you mentioning something about an early morning flight. What—"

"I rescheduled it."

There was a short silence and then she said quietly, "Oh," He felt her arms snaking around his waist. "You could've just said so right away."

Nikolai chuckled. "I doubt you would have believed me if I said it right away," he reasoned tiredly. "How are you feeling?"

"A bit better than last night," she replied. "And warm."

"That's good." He tightened his arms around her. "Go back to sleep."

Zoya only hummed as a reply.

***

Zoya hadn't realized that when Nikolai told her to sleep in, he also meant that she wasn't allowed to get up from the bed. He had insisted not to worry about anything and did most things like going down to get breakfast and lunch, and even buying her favorite energy drink that she had been mulling over whether to ask him to buy or not.

She ended up not able to ask that of him because he was already out of the door when she worked up the courage. But, somehow, Nikolai had still come back with two cans of it.

So here she was, stuffed under the blankets and glaring at Nikolai as he switched the channels back and forth on the TV they'd barely used during their stay.

"Please don't tell me that you booked another flight in the dead of the night," she said, stuffing a pillow on her back as she leaned on the headboard to see the TV better.

It was five in the afternoon, and she was feeling a lot like her old self now, except for the occasional throbs of pain in the back of her shoulder from lying in the same position for a while.

She glanced at the blond, who was still busy frowning on the remote.

"Joke's on you, Nazyalensky, but I booked a flight in the dead of the night," he said without looking at her. "Well, in my defense, all the afternoon flights were packed. It's the only time available."

"You shouldn't have rescheduled it," she said under her breath, but he seemed to have heard it.

Nikolai raised a brow to her direction. "Trust me, when I woke up at three in the morning to check your temperature, it was still quite alarming," he said. "I doubt you'll be able to get up without passing out on the spot."

Zoya blinked, suddenly reminded of how he had kept her warm and took care of her throughout the night. She only remembered flashes because of her hazy state of mind, but she was sure of those images.

"Are you feeling better now?" he asked after a moment.

"Yeah, sure," she replied, wrapping the covers tighter around her shoulder. "Never better."

Nikolai chuckled. "That's good news. At least I don't have to carry you on my back on our way to the airport."

Zoya kicked his leg, earning another laugh from the blond. "Idiot," she muttered.

"A fine idiot, I am," he said with a wink. He switched the channel again, and beamed. "Ah, there you go."

"What—oh no, you're not." Zoya glared at Nikolai, who only had a grin on his face as he looked at the TV screen. His eyes were alight in amusement. "A reality tv show? Really?"

"It's good to have some trashy shows in your system at times. It's fun." He held the remote out of her arm's reach when Zoya tried snatching it away from him. "Na-uh, we're definitely watching this."

Zoya huffed. "You know, we still have the midterm on Monday, and it's already Friday. So why don't you stop wasting your time and review?"

"But you're sick."

"So?"

"No study buddy means no review." He gave her a toothy grin. "There's no 'I' in 'team', truffle."

"But there's two in 'idiot', though."

"Harsh."

"Honest."

***

Zoya got a bit engrossed with the show, despite trying her best not to, even coming to a point that the two of them were already doing angry commentaries as it progressed.

And true enough to Nikolai’s words, it was quite fun. Or maybe they had just been too focused on reviewing in whatever time they had in the past days.

Soon enough, the episode ended in a way they didn't expect because they were agreeing—one of the rare times—on the most likely ending of tonight's episode. But when it didn't happen, Zoya cursed aloud, and continued to even as the credits rolled.

"What the hell was that? That wasn't supposed to—" she stopped abruptly when she looked over at Nikolai, who was already fast asleep, still leaning on the headboard with the remote in his hand.

So that was why he was silent for the last ten minutes. Zoya thought that he had just been too focused on the show like she was, but it had been entirely the opposite instead.

She couldn't help a small smile from twitching on her lips as she eyed his sleeping form. It was only one of the rare times he wasn't being annoying or blabbering; she might as well bask in the moment.

Nikolai shifted for a bit, and his glasses fell down slightly on his nose. Zoya only hesitated for a second before reaching a hand out and removing his glasses from his eyes. She set it down on the nightstand beside him, and, with a bit of effort, draped a part of the blankets around him, moving closer to him as she did.

Zoya had to admit that he was a great snuggler; not that she would admit it aloud to his fathead.

A moment later, she felt Nikolai turn to her, mumbling, "You doing okay?"

His eyes were still closed, and Zoya had to laugh lightly at his look. "Of course, I wouldn't want to reschedule our flight again." She paused, and before she could lose the courage, she mumbled, "Thank you."

Nikolai seemed to understand, and he chuckled, nudging her head with his affectionately. "Anything for you," he said, and Zoya felt her cheeks heat up. She was going to kill him for having this effect on her. "Get some sleep."

"As if we haven't been getting that all day."

"Our flight is at eleven."

Zoya scowled. "Saints, I'm never forgiving you for that."

Nikolai gave a tired laugh as reply, though it sounded more of a hum instead. "Oh, please. You adore me."

She stopped at that, feeling her heart hammer in her chest. He was silent after that, followed by the sound of his soft snores.

Zoya pondered over his words with slight panic. Maybe she really did.

Shit.

***

Hours later, they were finally at the airport. Zoya had been mumbling at him all throughout their way here that she was going to make him buy her coffee for two weeks instead of one. And Nikolai only laughed loudly in reply.

"Hey, can I borrow your phone for a bit?" he asked, just before they boarded the plane. "I'll send a quick text to Professor Juris to inform him we're heading home. My phone's dead."

Zoya was scribbling something on her notebook when he asked, and she only nodded before fishing out her phone from her pocket and handing it to him. She remembered a certain detail about their visit out of the blue that might be useful in their research later, so she wasted no time trying to jot it down for reference.

A light chuckle from the blond caught her attention, and Zoya looked up from her notebook, her eyebrows raised.

"So, Zoya, did you like sleeping with me?" Nikolai asked, wiggling his eyebrows as he showed her an email from her phone.

It was from the front desk two days ago saying that another room had opened up.

And her reply saying that they were fine with their single room directly below the email.

"My, my, Nazyalensky, you could've just told me," he said with a knowing grin.

Zoya felt her face heat up as she snatched her phone from his hand, and then also kicking his shin for good measure. "It's cheaper to stay in one room," she said defensively, but she knew otherwise. But she wasn't going to admit that. "Stop thinking too highly of yourself."

"Harsh," Nikolai said, dramatically putting a hand to his chest.

"Honest."

"Then can you admit that you didn't actually mind cuddling with me for the past few nights?"

"Shut up, or I'm changing your deal to three weeks."

Nikolai's hearty laugh echoed in her ears as she brushed past him, climbing up the plane.

She was definitely getting back at him.

***

When she successfully snatched away and downed his drink on the flight later, she considered it as a win.

"The Zoya Nazyalensky engaging in underage drinking?" Nikolai said.

Zoya chuckled darkly. "Nobody would notice, anyway."

"You snatched my drink, why not snatch my hand and hold it too?" he said after a long moment, giving her a wink.

She immediately kicked his leg with a muttered curse, her face heating up. "Shut up."

***

Zoya still held his hand, anyway.

#zoyalai #zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #king of scars #my writing #i should really be doing something else #but #cOLLEGE AU UGH #LKJHSADFLJASF #OH NO THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED #these idiots #blame them for making this long HAHAHLSKJFA #tiff where's my injured zoya #plot what plot #only cuddling idiots #college au

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therainroguefanfiction · 4 years ago

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⚘ Karasuno Alumni (Daichi Sawamura)

Genre: Slice of Life, AU, Fluff, Friendship

Word Count: 3,132

Pairing: Reader x Daichi

World: Haikyuu

Prompt(s): A bought the last piece of [item] that B was about to get. / “I have nothing to lose.” / Tattoo Artist AU

Author’s Note: This was written for the weekly-prompt (08/19/20) over on @hqbookclub ‘s discord server – you should check it out if you haven’t It should be noted that I do not have tattoos and I know nothing about tattooing. I asked a couple different people and watched a couple videos, but it’s hard to understand if you haven’t experienced it yourself so I kinda just wrote what I imagine would take place and how it would feel. So yeah.

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You didn’t get cravings very often, but when you did, they drove you absolutely batty until you got the object that you suddenly desired so badly. This was especially annoying at midnight when all you wanted to do was sleep but your brain wouldn’t stop craving for some strawberry flake pocky which, not so conveniently, was sold only at the quick mart about twenty minutes away from your house.

With a groan, you forced yourself out of bed, throwing on whatever clothes you could find quickly as you grumbled under your breath about how much you hated your brain and its ability to act like a damn toddler. And nearly thirty minutes later, you found yourself approaching the quick mart, still grumbling under your breath, though, at this point, it was more noises than words.

The glass doors slid open, a burst of cold air hitting the top of your head and causing a shiver to go down your spine. The cashier, a young girl that should probably be in bed and not working at one in the morning, smiled brightly upon your entrance.

“Welcome!”

You nodded at her before heading toward the back of the store where your precious pocky was located. The pocky was lined up at the end of the aisle, appearing in your line of sight as soon as you turned the corner, but the lack of flavors was startling. Normally, the shelf would be packed with the treats, but they had clearly become much more popular than normal. The shelves were nearly empty, offering only a few boxes in varying flavors. Your eyes scanned what was left, praying to whatever deity you could think of that they had the flavor you so desired.

Just as your eyes landed on the strawberry flake pocky, a large hand shot out, fingers curling around the very last box before pulling it from the shelf. Time seemed to move in slow motion as your eyes trained on the box like a hawk, watching as it was placed into the plastic basket being held by the perpetrator.

The man in question was pretty tall, standing probably around five-foot-nine, and his body was well defined with muscles. You could just barely make out the tattoo of a crow in mid-flight peeking out from the collar of his sweater. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think he was attractive with his messy raven hair and dark brown eyes, but the only thing you could focus on was the fact that he had just taken the last feckin’ box of strawberry flake pocky.

He finally noticed your intense stare, turning his dark eyes to meet yours. “It’s not polite to stare, you know,” he teased, the corner of his lips twitching up.

You scowled at him. “It’s also not polite to steal someone’s pocky!”

His brow quirked at that, amusement dancing in his eyes. “I didn’t steal anything. It was on the shelf, free for anyone to take. Maybe you should have been faster.”

In your tired, annoyed state, you didn’t recognize the teasing tone he was using and took it as a challenge. When he tried to step past you, your hand shot up, palm flat against his chest to push him backward. You resolve faltered for just a moment when you felt his toned chest tensing beneath your hand, but you quickly shook the thoughts from your head. “Give me back my pocky, you jerk!”

His eyes darkened, smile turning to a scowl as he grabbed your wrist to remove your hand from his chest. You could feel how strong he was from the amount of restraint he was showing. If he wanted to, he could easily hurt you, but his grip was soft, just enough to hold you back. “Maybe if you asked nicely I would have considered it, but since you’re being so rude, I’m gonna say no. Have a good night.” He released his grip on your wrist and headed for the front of the store.

Your eyes widened a bit at his words and you realized that you were being a complete jerk. Sure, you could use the lack of sleep and your shitty day as an excuse, but it was just that – an excuse. Shaking your head, you bolted toward the front of the store, intent on apologizing to the man, but he was already gone. You could only stand there feeling like a shitty person for being so rude to a man you had never even met before.

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“Y/N!” Tsuko, your childhood best friend, burst into your dorm room without knocking and, since you were in the middle of erasing a failed equation, you ended up jumping and tearing the page.

You groaned, slamming your face onto the desk. Math was bad enough, but now you had to recopy everything because of the torn page and that did not sound like a good time for you. “How many times do I have to tell you to knock, woman?”

“Sorry~” She giggled, not sounding the least bit sorry. “I have the best news!”

You hummed as you tore the page from the notebook, beginning to re-copy the notes on a fresh, clean one. You were not really interested in whatever gossip she had to offer this time because this was a regular occurrence with her and it was mostly about other student’s relationships.

“Okay, so,” she plopped down on the side of your bed. “I met a guy in class today that knows Anne, you know, the exchange student from the states, who is good friends with Ako, that really cute football scholar in his third year, who heard from Carl, the half-Japanese kid that’s weirdly obsessed with tomatoes, who is best friends with Nia, that girl that was featured in Art Monthly in January, who happens to know -”

You slammed your head back on the desk, the notes completely forgotten as her word vomit swirled in your ears. First off, you didn’t know any of those people and you really didn’t care about them or what incredible thing they had passed along to a million different people. It was like one of those chain games you played as a kid – one person says something before passing it on to another and, by the time it got to the end of the line, it was something completely different from what it once was. “Tsuko, please spare me any further pain and just get to the point.”

She rolled her brown eyes, “You’re so dramatic, Y/N. Anywho, let’s get tattoos!”

“Heh?”

“Nia knows a guy that does tattoos at a discounted price for Karasuno alumni!” She clapped her hands excitedly. “I set us up with an appointment tomorrow afternoon!”

“You -” your eye twitched in annoyance as you looked at her, but your gaze softened when you saw how excited she was. She had always been super into tattoos and had dreamed of getting one since she was thirteen-years-old and her mom married a guy that was covered in them. You were happy she was finally getting one, but why did you have to get one, as well? Sure, you thought tattoos were absolutely gorgeous and you could definitely appreciate an attractive man with them, but you had never actually considered getting one yourself. “I don’t know… What would I even get? Aren’t tattoos supposed to have meaning behind them? It’s not really something you just decide on the fly, you know?”

“That’s true,” she agreed, tapping her chin. “But you really loved your time at Karasuno, right? You said it was the best time of your life! So why not commemorate that with a tattoo?”

You frowned. “Getting the name of a high school tattooed on my body sounds super tacky.”

“Not the name!” She clicked her tongue in annoyance before pulling out her phone. After a few taps, she stood up to thrust the device in your face, showing off various drawings and designs of crows. “You can get the school’s mascot – a crow!”

You hummed as you took her phone, scrolling through the various images she had found on google with a simple search. Some of them did look pretty cool and you had loved your time at Karasuno. Sometimes you even found yourself wishing that you were back in high school when things were so much simpler and easier. The more you thought about the idea, the more you liked it.

“So~, what do you say?” Tsuko clapped her hands together, giving you the best puppy dog eyes she could manage.

“Well,” you answered after a moment’s pause. “I guess I have nothing to lose. Sure, let’s do it.”

“Yes!” She threw her arms around your neck, squeezing you against her chest. “You’re the bestest friend in the world, Y/N!”

You slapped her arms frantically, “Then let me breathe!”

“Oh, oops.” With a giggle, she released you, allowing you to take in a large gulp of air.

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Tsuko parked the car in front of the small tattoo shop nestled between a used bookstore and a fast-food chicken place. This did little to boost your confidence and you grabbed her arm before she could leave the car.

“Are you sure this place is legit? Did you research it? Look up reviews? What’s the -”

“Y/N!” She rolled her eyes. “This place comes highly recommended. Don’t tell me you’re going to chicken out at the last moment.”

“I’m not, I just…”

“Come on, we’re gonna be late for our appointment!”

With a sigh, you climbed out of her car and followed her to the door, glancing up at the bell above the door when it chimed loudly. On either side of the door were metal chairs lined against the class walls. Directly across from the door was an L-shaped desk with a computer on the right and various drawings scattered across its surface. A wall hid the tattooing area, offering a small opening on the left to pass through.

Tsuko stepped up to the counter while you hung back a bit, staying near the door. A moment passed before a tall man with a shaved head appeared in the doorway, covered in head to toe in various tattoo styles, piercings in both ears and on the left side of his bottom lip. He honestly looked terrifying.

His small eyes fell on Tsuko and his face brightened, a streak of red crawling across his face as he practically skipped over to the counter. “Hey, babe! You lookin’ to get a tattoo?”

“We are!” Tsuko chirped, clearly interested in this man even though she had only just met him. “We have an appointment, actually.”

“I gotchu,” he winked, stepping behind the counter to check the computer. “Ah, you two the Karasuno alumni?”

“Yep!”

“Perfect! Come on back and we’ll get to work!”

Tsuko didn’t hesitate to follow him and you sighed, trailing behind as you chewed on your bottom lip. Honestly, you were feeling kind of scared, but you didn’t want your best friend to think bad of you for chickening out, as she called it. How bad could it be, really? You weren’t afraid of needles and your pain tolerance was pretty high, so you were confident that you could make it through. Plus, you’d have a pretty bomb tattoo to show for it.

‘Hopefully,’ you thought as your eyes scanned the framed drawings lining the backroom. ‘These drawings look amazing, but there’s no way to prove that they did these.’

The man led the two of you to one of the plush chairs, motioning with his arms as his eyes stayed trained on your friend. “Have a seat, princess, and I’ll be right with you!”

She giggled in response, falling into the chair with a flushed face.

“As for you,” his eyes fell on you and you swallowed at how darker they got. “Follow me!”

You glanced at your friend, but her eyes were trained on the man’s back, offering you no support as you followed him a few chairs down on the opposite side of the room.

“Have a seat,” he grinned at you before turning toward the back of the room where a lone door sat, cupping his mouth. “Yo, Daichi! You got a customer!”

“Coming!”

You pulled out the folded piece of paper in your pocket that had several printed illustrations of crows in various poses. You had printed it out last night to try and help out the tattooer rather just saying, ‘I want a crow.’

“Hello, my name is Daichi and I’ll be -”

Your eyes met dark ones that widened in time with your own. Standing before you in a tight, black muscle shirt was the man that had taken your pocky the other night. Without any sleeves, you could see the dragon tattoo curling around his left arm, a light pink lotus flower clutched between its claws. On his right bicep was a crow sitting atop a volleyball and, of course, the crow in mid-flight could be seen more clearly on his neck.

Daichi cleared his throat, putting on an obviously forced smile. “I’ll be your tattooist today. What are you looking to get?”

“O-Oh, umm…” You handed him the paper with a shaking hand, unable to look him in the eye. Your face was burning with embarrassment and you were torn on whether or not you should mention what happened that night. You really wanted to apologize, but you weren’t entirely sure how, especially when one wrong word could land you in a world of hurt.

He took the paper, careful not to touch your hand with his as he glanced over the printed designs. “You want a crow?”

“Y-Yeah,” you cleared your throat, shifting in your seat. “I really enjoyed my time at Karasuno, so…”

He smiled down at the paper, settling himself on the rolling stool as he grabbed a sketchbook from beneath the counter. “Is there a specific design you want?”

“Not really. Umm… whatever you think would look nice.” You rubbed the back of your neck, glancing at your friend, but neither her nor the other man were paying either of you any mind.

“How about this?” He held up the sketchbook, showing off a small crow in mid-hop, its eyes trained on a butterfly flying above its head. Small feathers were spread out around it. It was such a simple design, but you fell in love the moment you saw it.

“Yes, that looks amazing!”

“Cool. I’ll be right back.” He stood up, tearing the drawing from the book before returning to the room at the back. When he returned, he was carrying a thin piece of paper that he held gently between his fingers. “Where do you want to get it?”

You glanced at the paper, taking note of its small size. “My upper arm?” You lifted the sleeve of the t-shirt on your left arm, looking up at him for approval.

“Can you take your shirt off, please?”

“W-What?” Your cheeks burned at the sudden request.

“The sleeve might get in the way of the tattoo and ruin it. It’s better if it’s not in the way.” Daichi explained, setting the paper on the table beside the chair before setting up the tools.

Swallowing your nerves, you glanced at him before pulling the shirt over your head, holding it across your chest. He didn’t even spare you a glance as he rolled over to your side, slipping his hands into black gloves before cleaning the area where the tattoo would be placed. The stencil was cold as he carefully smoothed it out across your skin, pressing hard to ensure that the ink transferred. When he was satisfied, he slowly peeled it away, the ink stuck to your skin.

Daichi’s dark eyes met yours as he picked up the ink gun. “Are you ready?” You nodded, taking a deep breath. “Remember to breathe and try not to tense up, it’ll make it hurt worse. If it gets too much or you start to feel lightheaded, let me know and we’ll take a break. I’m going to start now.”

“Okay.” Your eyes followed his movements as he clicked on the gun, lowering the needle to your skin. You sucked in a breath at the strange stinging feeling upon your skin, as if you were getting a shot multiple times. You found yourself focusing on the pain and it was making you feel light-headed – you had to distract yourself. “Hey, I uhh… I’m sorry.”

“Hm?” He didn’t glance away from his work, carefully tracing the lines with the needle. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, it’s just… the other night in the quick mart…” You chewed on your bottom lip as you searched your brain for the proper words, meeting his dark eyes when he paused his ministrations to glance at you. “I want to apologize. I was such a jerk to you even though I didn’t know you and… I’m sorry.”

Daichi hummed, the corners of his lips twitching up as he returned to the tattoo, his tone teasing. “Are you just apologizing so I won’t mess up your tattoo?”

“What? N-No, that’s not -” You paused when he started laughing, bringing the gun away from your skin so he wouldn’t mess up the tattoo. “You’re teasing me.”

“Yup,” his dark eyes sparkled with amusement. “Don’t worry, I’m not so petty that I’d mark up someone’s skin over something like that. To be honest, I had forgotten all about it until I saw you.”

Seeing him so close to you made your heart pick up speed because he was a really gorgeous man and you adored his laugh. You wanted to get to know him more, so you threw caution to the wind, looking up at him through your lashes. “Can I… make it up to you? Maybe I can buy you some lunch or something.”

“That sounds nice,” he smiled warmly, his eyes lighting up.

“Way to go, Daichi!” The other man waggled his eyebrows as he looked at the two of you, a smirk upon his lips. “And you always yell at me for trying to date the clients!”

Daichi scowled over his shoulder, a light shade of pink coming to his cheeks. “Shut it, Tanaka! Focus on your client.”

“Oh trust me, I am~” Tanaka wiggled his brows again, this time at Tsuko who giggled in response.

“We should go on a double date!” She suggested happily, to which Tanaka nodded enthusiastically.

Daichi sighed, giving you a sheepish look. “You up for a double date?”

You glanced at your best friend and her new love interest before giving him a smile. “Something tells me we don’t have a choice.”

“Definitely not,” he laughed.

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📜 Read more by checking out my masterlist 📜

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basementsushi · 4 years ago

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Cinderella - movie reviews

Movie: Cinderella (1950)

Would I recommend: Yes - it’s another classic that’s still quite enjoyable today!

Had seen before: Yes (but couldn’t remember it)

Main movie, prequel, sequel, or midquel: Main movie

Theater or straight to video: Theater

Keep reading below for fun facts, my thoughts, and origin details (contains spoilers)!

Also further below are my reviews for the sequels!

Thoughts:

Why do all the mice and birds have clothes? BIRDS DO NOT NEED SHOES

Cinderella’s rant at the clock tower truly shows the universal hatred of being woken up by a clock in the morning

Cinderella certainly has more attitude than I remembered! It’s wonderful

I can’t help wondering why the prince’s baby portrait shows him as a blonde, and from a toddler on he has black hair

What’s going on with the fever dream bubbles? What was in that tea…

I love how much the mice care about Cinderella, they truly do everything they can to help her prepare for the ball

There’s a lot more humor in the movie than I remembered - a lot of it is a bit subtle, I think some may have just gone over my head when I was little

I love the prince’s attitude (hiding a yawn while meeting some of the ladies, and rolling his eyes at the step-sisters)

The king is a bit creepy, he’s so obsessed with having grandkids, to the point that he says some of the ladies must have potential to be great mothers (before correcting himself to say wives)!

It’s wonderful that Cinderella is so appealing to the prince because she’s not fawning over him or his position - he first notices her because she’s admiring the palace beauty instead of trying to gain his attention, and becomes more fascinating with her later when he realizes she’s interested in him (she doesn’t even know he’s the prince at the time!)

While spending time with the prince why does Cinderella splash her GLOVED hand in the fountain?

The poor grand duke.. He may be my favorite character, he’s so sweet and trying so hard. I feel so bad when he’s so panicked about telling the king Cinderella has disappeared (though of course he’d be panicked, the king threatened to kill him if anything went wrong!)

Another reason to love the grand duke - he is literally the only character who acknowledges the very real concern that the slipper may fit many women!

I have noticed that Cinderella wears a black choker both with her ball gown and with her wedding gown. I don’t know what to do with this knowledge.

Fun facts:

Cinderella’s prince is the one known as “Prince Charming”

While the Brothers Grimm wrote a tale about “Cinderella”, the Disney movie draws inspiration from Cendrillon (Cinderella, or The Little Glass Slipper), a tale by Charles Perrault, first published anonymously in 1697 in Paris (over a century before the Brothers Grimm tale, which differs in many ways) - for my research I read both versions, and highly recommend you do the same! The movie stays mostly true to Perrault’s tale, though personally I prefer the Grimm version.

Cinderella was originally going to be a short, but the ideas were too complicated to fit, so instead they made it into a movie

Origin: (Cendrillon, or The Little Glass Slipper, Charles Perrault tale) In this tale a gentleman, who had an incredibly sweet and good daughter from his first wife, married again, this time a haughty woman with much pride. She showed these traits almost immediately after the wedding. The step-mother disliked the man's daughter, especially since her goodness made her own daughters pale in comparison, so she made the girl clean and do the most horrible of tasks and sleep on a horrible straw bed, while her daughters had only the finest of things. The girl dared not tell her father, for he was completely under the influence of her stepmother.

Her step-sisters began to call her names, among them Cinderella, because she would sit among the cinders and ashes.

It then was that the king's son announced a ball, and that many young ladies were invited. The step-sisters were quite excited to attend, and spent much time planning their appearance, and Cinderella, in her goodness, helped them prepare. On the day of the ball Cinderella saw them off, then began to cry. Her godmother, who was a fairy, saw her crying and came to see what was wrong. When Cinderella told her she too wished to attend the ball she said that she would make it so.

She had Cinderella bring her a pumpkin, six mice, a rat, and six lizards, which she transformed into a fine, gold-gilded coach, fine horses, a coachman, and footmen. When Cinderella asked her about a dress she touched her with her wand, transforming her rags into cloth of gold and silver, covered in many jewels. Her godmother warned her before she left to leave before midnight, when everything would transform back into what it was before.

When Cinderella arrived all were stunned by her beauty, and admired her grace when they saw her dance. A fine meal was served, and Cinderella surprised her sister's by sitting near them and giving them some of the fine fruit the prince had given her (they did not know it was her). Shortly before midnight she returned home, and when her step-sisters returned home they told tales of a beautiful and kind princess who had been in attendance.

The following evening she attended again, dressed even more magnificently. She was having such a wonderful time she nearly forgot to leave before midnight, and had to hurriedly flee as the clock began to strike twelve. In her hurry she left a glass slipper behind, which the prince found. By the time she returned home she was once again in her dirty clothes, with the exception of her single glass slipper.

A few days later the prince announced that he would marry whomever could fit into the slipper. Many tried, including the step-sisters, but no matter how hard they tried none fit. Cinderella, watching all this amused, said they should see if it fit her. The gentleman whom the prince had set agreed she should try, as the prince had given him orders to let everyone try.

The slipper fit her perfectly, and her step-sisters were astonished, even more so when she pulled the matching flipper from her pocket. At that moment Cinderella's godmother came in and touched her wand to Cinderella, dressing her in things more fine than she had ever worn before. Her step-sisters, now recognizing her, threw themselves at her feet begging forgiveness. She raised them up and embraced them, forgiving them completely.

Cinderella was taken to the prince, and after a few days they were married. Cinderella, in all her goodness, gave her sisters homes in the palace as well, and that same day matched them with lords in the court.

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Movie: Cinderella II: Dreams Come True (2002)

Would I recommend: Yes*. You can definitely feel the ideas/influence from when this was going to be a TV show, it feels closer to three separate episodes rather than one overarching movie plot. *Overall it’s not as good as the first movie, but if you enjoyed the first and want some silly stories about events that take place after this may be a fun watch.

Had seen before: No

Main movie, prequel, sequel, or midquel: Sequel

Theater or straight to video: Straight to video

Keep reading below for fun facts and my thoughts (contains spoilers)!

Thoughts:

Cinderella is still rocking a choker with all of her gowns

Ball gowns are Cinderella’s Clark Kent glasses - with a gown on everyone immediately recognizes her, with no fancy gown she blends and no one recognizes her as the princess

I like that Cinderella questions many of the customs at the palace - that she shouldn’t make her own breakfast, that people can’t just choose where they sit at dinner, or wondering about essentially same colored napkins - it’s quite relatable

WHY DOES PART OF THE PLOT INVOLVE JAC BECOMING A HUMAN

There are color changing strings of lights at the Spring Festival - historical accuracy be darned

The fairy godmother needs the get “bippity boppity boo” embroidered on her sleeves or something, it’s her only spell and she still manages to forget it half the time

Well the movie has mice romance sub-plot, now all it needs is the kitchen sink… [edit from later in the movie: LUCIFER AND POM POM? That’s it, they’ve covered every possible love sub-plot]

Quite a 180 from the first movie, I actually am liking Anastasia (one of the step-sisters), and the other begins to seem better as well

Fun facts:

This was originally going to be a TV series, but it got cancelled, and the ideas adapted into a movie instead

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Movie: Cinderella III: A Twist in Time (2007)

Would I recommend: Yes - it’s certainly a fun sequel to the original, I’m finding myself debating whether I like it or the original better, and honestly, I think this one might be winning!

Had seen before: No

Main movie, prequel, sequel, or midquel: Sequel

Theater or straight to video: Straight to video

Keep reading below for my thoughts (contains spoilers)!

Thoughts:

I’m not 100% sure, it’s pretty subtle, but I think from the opening song this movie takes place a year after the first one

Lady Tremaine is so much more evil in this one! It shows in her use of magic too, hers is green, while the fairy godmother’s and Anastasia’s are white/blue

I love how much more independent and clever Cinderella is in this one - she’s taking control of her life, a true fighter!

SHE WEARS A SIZE 4.5? What is she, a fae?

Aww, Anastasia reminds the king so much of his wife (who I can tell through inference as passed away)

It’s amazing how some genuine kindness and care changes Anastasia’s personality and outlook, I sympathize with her so much in this movie - it really shows how much she just wants to be loved and appreciate for who she is

Good prince, questioning the weird animal interactions

OMG the prince is dramatic as heck, when told he was forbidden to take another step down the stairs he just yeeted himself out the window instead

#cinderella #movie #movie review #charles perrault #brothers grimm #sequel

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writerwaage · 4 years ago

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Entry One 11:45 am 10/17

I’m starting this journal after my computer decided to have the biggest meltdown I’ve ever seen in my life. I lost all of my digital copies of research, so I’ll have to sift through my papers to see what I can salvage. I’ve only been doing research for a few months, so I haven’t lost too much. In the meantime, I think it’d be best if I started with my own encounter with The Creature.

general content warnings for horror, including horror surrounding difficulty hearing. if you think there needs to be a content warning for something not listed, please let me know!

I was in my senior year of high school when things had started to go screwy. I had just come home from my last homecoming and was eager to get the tight dress and pinching heels off. It wasn’t any later than midnight. Jonnie had dropped me off and gave me a little peck on my cheek, wishing me a good rest and pleasant dreams. They’re always sweet like that, caring for me when I’m at my most miserable. Once I had made my way to my bedroom, I took out my hearing aids, dropped off my dress, and cuddled into the most comfortable pajamas I could find. I dropped my dirty clothes into the closet and climbed into bed, turning the lights off on my way and finding the path to bed by memory. Then I fell asleep.

What was so unusual was that I woke up in the middle of the night from hearing a low, grumbling noise. It was (seemed) much quieter than I would have expected to be woken up by, so I figured it would have woken my parents up as well. At first I thought it could have been a minor earthquake, though I didn’t feel any shaking. After a few minutes, it had stopped, and I didn’t see any movement from the gap under my door, so I shrugged it off and rolled back over to go to sleep. If it were anything, it was probably just my imagination playing off a nightmare I woke up from but don’t remember having. The rest of the night passed without any more problems.

In fact, I didn’t have many more problems until almost a week later. I wasn’t particularly exhausted like I was the night after Homecoming, so I can definitely rule that out as a contributing factor. It was maybe two in the morning when the grumbling returned and woke me up. I sat up and grabbed my phone, flicking on the flashlight. Crawling out of bed, I don’t remember feeling off in any way. I just had the strangest sensation of being watched. Considering this was the second time I had been woken up by it, I wanted to know what it was and make it stop. If it woke me it must have woken up the whole house. I pushed open my bedroom door and glanced down the hall in both directions. My parents didn’t seem to be awake. I remember thinking it was a bit weird, but nothing troublesome. I went downstairs and through the kitchen, wondering if the garage had been opened. Sometimes I could just barely hear it, given that my room was directly above it, but no. It had been closed and even locked, just the way dad left it when he came back home from work.

It dawned on me that downstairs, the grumbling had stopped. Even when I had made my way down the staircase, the disturbing sound had faded. As long as it had stopped and I could go back to sleep, I didn’t care too much about what it was or why it was so loud.

Two nights later, the grumbling began, right at two. It was infuriatingly loud this time, louder than I could have thought was possible without waking up my parents, the dog, hell, even the neighbors. Even though I didn’t exactly need them at that point, I turned on my lamp and put on my hearing aids, switching them on the fastest I could. I wanted, no, I needed to know how loud this thing could genuinely be. To my shock, it didn’t seem to be any louder, no matter how I fiddled with the controls. I turned them off and sat them back down before climbing out of bed. Investigating had made whatever the hell it was shut up, so I reasoned that another investigation would do so again.

From between the slats that made up my closet doors, I had caught a quick glimpse of something red, almost metallic and beady. Everything in me told me that whatever was making that noise was in here with me. My forehead was suddenly slick with a nervous sweat. How many nights had this thing been with me? At least three, given how many times it woke me up. I rationalized, in the moment, that if it wanted to hurt me, it would have by now. I stood up and started to make a slow, deliberate walk toward the door. I’d go look at the office, then come back and go to bed. I was careful not to be too hasty in my return. If it were too soon, maybe it would think I was faking it. It would have been right.

While the office had been a silent sanctuary from the incessant grumbling of the creature, it was soon to return to its sounds as soon as I stepped back into the hall. It hadn’t been convinced and in fact seemed to be waiting for me to return. I swallowed down my fear and put a hand on my doorknob. From under the door, I could see that my lamp had been turned off. Did I do that, or did it? I turned the handle and walked in. The grumbling was almost unbearable, putting more pressure on my ears than I was used too.

Moonlight crept through my blinds, falling onto the door of the closet with a hint of malice I had never seen before from such a beautiful source. I clamped my hands over my ears, failing to muffle the sounds, and shuffled over. The pain grew more and more, each step a blend of unbelievable pain and pure curiosity. Whatever it was, it wanted to be seen, and I was going to see it.

Just as I prepared to reach out to the handle, the door flung itself open and unleashed a nearly debilitating ringing. I fell to my knees, pushing my hands against my ears in futile desperation. After a few moments, the intensity subsided and I was able to look into my closet.

In front of me was a horrendous amalgamation of slick, slimy, oily black, almost like thick, bubbling tar, and eyes. Red, metallic, with every beady pupil centered right on me. Its shapeless form hoisted itself upright, stacking boil after boil on top of one another, the supposed gaps between segments oozing the tarry black down and onto the carpet around me.

I can’t remember the rest of the night after that. My mother says that I was late to breakfast the following morning, and when she came up to check on me, I was curled up on the floor with my head in my hands, sleeping, and with a large cut on my thigh. It wasn’t too deep, just a little long, so we felt comfortable treating it at home. When I asked about the grumbling, my parents just shrugged it off. Said it was a thunderstorm last night and the thunder must have woken me up. I thought it was impossible, due to the moonlight, but I just kept my mouth shut.

Although I didn’t know it at the time, this was my very first, and only, encounter with The Creature. I wrote it off as a combination of bad nightmares and some freak sleepwalking accident. After that last night, I’ve had no further problems with grumbling waking me up in the middle of the night or sleepwalking, so surely these are both unique to The Creature. I will look for strange reports of grumbles in the night paired with unexplained bouts of sudden sleepwalking.

Jonnie swung around with lunch while I was writing this. They seemed disappointed that I moved to physical research after my computer gave up. I told them I was fine, and that this was just a hobby while I looked for paying work. They dropped it, but I could tell it wasn’t enough. I love Jonnie, I really do, but this research is important to me. They even had an encounter with what I believe to be The Creature!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading! if you feel so inclined, please leave me a message, ask, or reply with any sort of feedback!

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#writeblr #writeblr community #writer #writers on tumblr #original writing #My writing #Original WIP #nanowrimo #nano #nanowrimo 2020 #nano 2020 #nano wip #horror #the journal of adelaide goodspeed

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shoeshoecin · 5 years ago

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I recently requested a prayer from Skippy when my mothers was seriously ill. Skippy and Brewster both contributed to the prayer and they really got through me through difficult times. We buried my mother aka Nana today and we all said goodbye. My daughter read her this letter at the funeral today and I wanted to share it with you. I never post on tumblr I enjoy all #megxit posts and appreciate your insight and research regarding MM.

Dear Nana,

The last time that we talked you told me that you don’t like funerals. When I asked, “why?”, you said, “at funerals people just say a bunch of nice stuff about the person that everyone knows wasn’t really true.” To that I ensured you that people only have nice things to say about you because you are simply the best. Although, you didn’t seem convinced, but you can put your fears to rest because I promise I am only going to say things that are 100% honest.

On the topic of honesty, you are the most honest person I have ever met. A bit brutally honest actually. For example, I remember coming back from the beach one day and you asked me if I gained the “freshman 15” after going away to college. A bit perplexed by your sudden question, I replied, “umm..I don’t really know, I haven’t weighed myself…why? Do you think I’ve gained weight?” You said, “well yeah. You look like you’ve gained some weight. Maybe not a full 15...maybe more like 5 or 10. You still look good though.” Even though that probably wasn’t what I was looking to hear while I stood in the kitchen in my bikini, I can appreciate the honesty. Another example of your honestly was the time that I painted you a watercolor painting of a cat (because I know how much you love cats). I was so excited to give it to you after working on it all night, and when I presented it to you, you look one look and said, “what happened to the tail? The tail is too short it looks like something happened to it.” I said, “oh yeah, I guess the tail is a little short, but do you like it?” You replied to my hopeful question with, “well, it’d be nicer if the tail was longer, but I’ll still hang it up.” Yup, you are definitely not scared to speak your mind. If I ever need an ego check, you know where I’ll be. With that being said, despite the small blows to my self esteem, I’ve always admired your honesty as it was quite refreshing and always consistent.

Speaking of consistency, you are one of the very few people that I can always count on to be consistent. For example, everyone always looks forward to going to Nana’s for dinner because everything you bake or cook is always amazing. From your angel hair pasta, to your lima beans, to your brownies, zucchini bread, pies and magical (almost too perfect) assortment of Christmas cookies every year, everything you make is always consistently delicious. Even from the youngest age, I always knew that I could look forward to dinner and dessert at Nana’s. You are also extremely consistent when it comes to buying anything marketed as “NEW!” I know that if I walk into your kitchen there will always be a package of the newest limited edition of Oreos sitting there…unopened. Even your response to the question, “Nana why did you buy these?” was consistently, “it’s new!” You’ve never failed to tell me how much you dislike the fact that my jeans are ripped and I actually bought them like that. I can always expect to see clean clothes perfectly hanging on the clothes line in the yard. You consistently wear Keds and cashmere sweaters while eating a sticky bun from the bakery in the morning. You are also pretty consistent with feeding the dog at family parties even when my mom and Johnny Z asked everyone not to. Watching you feed Marsden huge chunks of cheese and crackers under the table right after being asked not to always made me laugh. You always keep a pitcher of iced tea in the fridge, fresh peaches on the counter, and mint chocolate chip ice cream in your freezer (never the white mint though because according to you the white mint does not taste the same as the green mint ice cream, and you will not eat the white mint). I’m really glad that mint chocolate chip is your favorite flavor of ice cream, because it’s my favorite too.

Sometimes I wonder where I got my sweet tooth, but if you’ve ever stayed up past midnight with Nana, you would know that the timeframe of 12 am to 3 am is filled with candy, sour cream and onion chips, popsicles, Cheetos, and ice cream sundaes. People always think that you don’t eat very much, but you and I both know that they just don’t stay up late enough to witness the late night snacking that happens over a game of scrabble, while baggage or family feud is playing on the TV. These late nights have been some of my favorite memories over the years, and you always gave your best advice during these times. For example, I vividly remember one summer night at age 16. I was on my second bowl of what was now melted mint ice cream and losing pretty bad at a game of scrabble. To make matters worse, all the letters I was left with were all vowels and my mind drifted to the break up I had earlier that day. Shockingly, I began to cry for probably the 7th time that day, and you said, “Oh god what are you crying for? You should be happy. Now you can play the field. Playing the field is much more fun than having just one boyfriend.” Like I said, you always give the best advice.

As I’m thinking about all the advice you’ve given me, I am reminded of all the other things that you’ve shown and taught me. For example, thanks to you, I know what its like to walk into a room with a celebrity. I remember it like it was yesterday, one rainy night my mom and I drove down to play a game of bingo with you. When we walked in the door, I was immediately stopped and questioned by the tight security who asked to see my ID because I apparently looked “12” – which would be a no-go considering that apparently the bingo staff takes the age restrictions of bingo very seriously. Just as I was about to show the security my proof of ID to confirm that I was in fact above the age of 18, you came to our rescue. A simple, “they’re with me,” and all of a sudden we were treated like royalty and all further questions turned into staff members offering us refreshments. I learned something else that night too. It was brought to my attention that my mom and I are really bad at bingo, like really bad. It’s a good thing that you were there to inform us that our cards were upside down and we had been playing the game completely wrong for the first half hour. By the end of the four-hour bingo game, you were playing all of our cards for us alongside the 20 that you had laid out in front of you, while my mom and I resorted to eating gummy bears and counting the number of sneezes for every minute that went by. Watching you play bingo was honestly an honor because that takes a level of skill I most definitely did not inherit. When I think about you, I think about good times like these, and how honored I am to be your granddaughter.

Although above all, when I think about you, I think about how strong you are. A particular moment of strength was the time that you broke your hip on the fourth of July. Most people would probably be crying or at least deeply concerned with the physical pain they were experiencing, but you were much more concerned with the deviled eggs that were in your hands when you fell along with who was going to make the pie if you went to the hospital. Unfortunately for us, the blueberry pie was left in the hands of Uncle Jeff…and I’m just gonna go ahead and say, your concerns were all too valid. To be honest I’ve always thought about my mom and wondered how she became such a strong, independent, and amazing woman, but now I can clearly see that its because she always had you to look up to. And I want to thank you for being someone that I could also always look up to. Thank you for teaching me all about the virtue of honesty. Thank you for being someone I could always consistently depend on to be there. Thank you for all of the late night chats and all of your priceless advice. Thank you for passing on your love of baking and sharing a sweet tooth with me. Thank you for gracing me with the honor of learning how to play bingo from a real pro. Thank you for showing me what a strong, kind, and beautiful woman looks like. Thank you for everything.

I started this letter by referencing the last time we we had the chance to talk. You explained why you don’t like funerals because of the apparent lack of honesty. Well, I hope this letter delivered the kind of authenticity that you were hoping for because I just have one last thing that I would like to revisit. In that same conversation, after we had discussed the flaws within funerals, I told you that I love you. You replied by saying, “aw I love you too, and I hope that I can love you from heaven. I think I can.” Your response to my statement was one that I will never forget. So, I just want to say that I will always love you, no matter where you are. Thank you for being you.

Love,

Ella

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iamartemisday · 5 years ago

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90 and 32 for Loki and your choice?

Is there really a choice? lol

Pregnancy Fic + Unexpected Virgin

...hoo boy.

Okay, so Loki decides one day to go to Midgard. No real reason why. He’s just bored.

While there, he meets some mildly interesting people, including a young woman about to graduate college named Jane Foster. She’s just escaped an incredibly painful blind date and Loki further helps her avoid the hapless human by pretending to kiss her in an alleyway. Her hot breath on his face actually makes him think of kissing her for real, but that’s a ridiculous notion. What kind of prince would he be cavorting with mortals?

Regardless, as they talk about life and Jane’s plans for grad school, he finds himself intrigued by her. She’s highly intelligent for her species and while her grip on the Bifrost could not be more basic, if anyone was going to figure it out, he’d say it was her.

Over the next month or so, Loki starts visiting Midgard and Jane more and more. As far as she knows, he’s another student like her home for summer break. As they grow closer, Loki thinks more and more about what it would be like to kiss her. Finally, the day comes and by Odin, can she ever kiss.

Of course, there’s no way something like this can last. Even putting aside Loki’s greater longevity, there are so many people out there he’s pissed off. If they know a vulnerable mortal woman has caught his eye, no way they won’t take advantage.

That’s how Jane ends up a hostage of one of Loki’s many enemies. He is able to save her and kill the perpetrator, but he realizes now that their relationship can only end in pain. He knows now just how deeply in love with her he’s fallen. He loves her so much that he can find it in himself to erase every trace of him from her memory. Everything from their first meeting to the day they first kissed. He gives her one more kiss before he leaves her, pouring all his love and magic into it. Along with a wish that one day, somehow, their paths would cross again.

And so, Loki leaves her. Jane wakes up the next morning in her apartment with no recollection of her harrowing adventure or the prince she once loved. It’s as if nothing ever happened.

Except as the days go by, Jane starts to have some odd symptoms. She’s weirdly sick in the morning and feels faint during the day. She’s moodier than usual, only wants to eat food she hates and gets random headaches.

There is an obvious answer that is also completely impossible. Jane is not ashamed to admit she’s never had sex (like it even matters how long someone waits). In fact, she hasn’t dated since that one awful blind date a few months ago (every time she thinks about it she feels sad for no reason, and she still can’t figure out why). Days later, the symptoms persist. As a joke, she buys a home pregnancy test. Not like it’s going to mean anything.

The test comes back positive.

Jane buys three more. All positive.

She goes to the doctor, who confirms it.

Pregnant.

Now, this is a major problem because again, Jane has never had sex. She rarely drinks and hasn’t been to a bar recently. A few guys in her department like her, but there was no way they’d ever do something like that to her. Right?

The time frame of conception is determined. Jane recalls a day during that time when she did go to the bar, and now that she thinks about it, her memory of that week is a bit spotty...

At that point, Jane, being the determined woman she is, decides she can’t worry about what might’ve happened right now. She needs to think about what is happening. The obvious answer is abortion. That or adoption. How can she, a grad student going into astrophysics of all things, take care of a child? It’s not that she doesn’t want kids, it’s the idea never even crossed her mind because she’s just that focused on her goal.

Now, motherhood is an actual reality. It’s still early enough for her to make an appointment at the clinic. She’s online researching, still unsure if she’s actually going to call, when she feels something. At first, she thinks she’s imagining it. She feels her stomach and there it is again. The tiniest movement. Maybe not even a movement at all. Maybe just a heartbeat...

At that moment, something fundamental within Jane changes. She closes her current web search and opens a new one on pregnancy guides and nearby baby stores.

A few months later, Jane’s daughter is born. While it’s definitely a bit on the nose given the circumstances, Jane can’t resist writing Christina on the birth certificate.

It’s not as hard as she thought it would be. Erik and her mother are both huge helps. They immediately fall in love with the baby and watch her while Jane is at school and studying. By the time she gets her degree, Christina is five and has spent the last few years providing constant encouragement for her mother. She walks at Jane’s side during her graduation. She gets a little stuffed bear with a cap and gown while Jane gets her doctorate.

The next few years are a bit hectic. Jane tries to give Christina as much stability as possible. They live in one place for a few years while Jane teaches at the university and builds up goodwill with the staff in order to get the grant money she needs to fund her research. Her efforts finally pay off when Christina is about to turn nine. Jane sets up her lab in New Mexico and they move there for the summer. They might stay longer depending on what Jane finds, but she doesn’t tell Christina that just yet. She’s already complaining about how boring Puente Antiguo is.

To entertain herself, Christina reads and writes about all sorts of fun adventures she could be having. She’s never showed her mom this, or anyone for that matter, but she has a few strange little talents no one else seems to have. For example, she can sometimes move things around without touching them. One time, she swears she turned a mean kid’s hair blue when he was bullying her and her friends. Snakes seem to really like her. She can’t talk to them like Harry Potter, but they do follow her sometimes. There are tons of snakes in New Mexico, but she’s not too bothered by it. They all seem pretty nice.

Soon Darcy arrives and she more or less bonds with her new boss’s kid. When some guy in town starts hassling Darcy, Christina asks one of her snake friends to make him go away and the guy never comes back. Another guy makes fun of Jane on the street, calling her a crackpot. He rather suddenly trips over nothing and knocks a few of his teeth out.

Jane does notice a lot of this stuff, but not once does she think to connect it to her innocent daughter. Meanwhile, Christina is well aware that she’s the one doing this. Somehow or other, she does have powers no one else has, and she’s starting to realize just how strong those powers might be.

It all comes to a head with the arrival of Thor. Jane went out with Darcy and Erik to watch for an incoming storm. Christina had to stay home, as this could be dangerous. So, of course, she snuck along in the back hidden under a blanket. She’s right there when Thor falls from the sky. Terrified that they’re all about to die, Christina unleashes a HUGE wave of magic. Big enough to disrupt the bifrost and send Thor flying into a nearby rock formation. He hits his head hard, and as he is now human. this is not an insignificant injury.

In fact, when they get to the hospital, the poor stranger has already slipped into a coma. Jane is left to comfort her hysterical daughter who won’t stop blaming herself for what happened, She finally admits the truth about her powers to Jane and demonstrates by summoning a pen from the nurse’s station. Jane is shocked and has no idea what to do. Christina interprets this as her mother being scared of her and runs away. Jane chases after her. By the time she turns the corner, Christina is gone. Jane searches the entire hospital, but her little girl is nowhere to be found.

Now comes Loki. He’s been pretty out of it ever since losing Jane. Though it’s been close to a decade on Earth, that barely feels like a week to him. Now Thor has been banished, he has some truly uncomfortable questions to ask Odin about his origins, and to top it all off, one of his old enemies has just randomly appeared with a little girl in tow.

(NOTE: I honestly have no idea who the enemy would be. If I actually wrote this I’d just figure it out later)

His enemy mocks him for growing soft and not protecting his progeny like he should have. Loki has no idea what the hell this guy is talking about until he gets a better look at the girl. Her midnight black hair, terrified blue eyes, that face just like a younger Jane.

Jane...

He hadn’t looked in on her since he left. He just couldn’t bring himself to. Now he wishes to all his ancestors that he had. The enemy issues a challenge, daring him to come and save his newfound daughter. He disappears with Christina, and try as he might, Loki can’t trace where they’ve gone. He has a few ideas, but he’s going to need some help.

And he’s going to need to correct some old mistakes as well.

At the hospital, the police have arrived and are searching for the missing girl. Jane curls up in the waiting room, thinking of everything that led them to this point. If only she hadn’t accepted the grant money. If only she’d gone somewhere else to search for bridges. If only she’d paid enough attention to her own fucking child to know that she was literally psychic. Or magic. Or something!

While she cries, a shadow appears over her. When Jane looks up, a tall man with dark hair and eyes like Christina is watching her.

It all comes flooding back.

She remembers Loki. She remembers their kiss, that monster thing that kidnapped her. Loki saved her, and then he told her they’d never see each other again. Then she woke up at home as if from a dream and it was like he never existed at all.

But he had. She knew now that she had, and she had a daughter to prove it.

Which still begs the question of how. She knows now that they definitely didn’t have sex. Loki’s theory is that his magic somehow infused with latent abilities within Jane herself (she might actually have a small percentage of Asgardian in her) and created a child born of them both. It’s a tenuous idea at best, but it’s all he has right now, and who even cares how Christina was conceived. Point is, she exists and she’s been kidnapped and Thor is in a freaking coma now and can’t help them. Time to gear up and save their kid!

Not going to go into too much detail here as I’ve already written way too much. Basically, Loki teaches Jane to harness the magic within. She already knows a few knife tricks from self-defense classes, so Loki gives her a new knife that never dulls and is virtually indestructible. When she’s ready, they strike out to find their daughter in the enemy’s secret hideout. At some point, Thor wakes up and rushes to help his brother. His willingness to go to a far off planet and fight to the death for a child he’s never met makes him worth of Mjolnir again at just the right time. Loki and Jane rescue their little girl, who instinctively knows her father the moment she sees him. The enemy is defeated and now they’re free to start over and live as the family they were always meant to be.

#Lokane #Loki #Jane Foster #fic prompt #fic I won't write

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hollandroos · 6 years ago

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How Could I Not? | Five

Playlist | Wattpad | Prologue | Series masterlist

Summary: You and Tom are only supposed to be friends... friends who sometimes take things a step further and friends who can’t seem to spend longer then a few days apart. But that can all change with a positive pregnancy test. Suddenly you have to work together more then ever to prepare for the new life you created. But is it really that easy?

Words: 3.7k

Warnings: Nothing really :// | Please remember to reblog/comment/send an ask if you enjoyed this!!

Traces of your evening lay scattered on bare skin, small memories taking you back to every movement and ragged breath. from the sweat that dried against your forehead to the fingerprints almost ingrained into your waist. They sat in little splotches, rising with every even breath.

Then Tom – oh boy. Beautiful marks were drawn down Toms back. As if he wasn’t beautiful enough, you had to go and make your mark and Tom would be lying if he said he hated them. Those red and raw blemishes that painted his milky skin the colour of grapes and blue skittles. Blue skittles were sour on the first bite and never necessarily anyone's favourites, but with every one following, they grew sweater. They were surely your favourites.

His brown curls were a little frizzier then usual – the result of your fingertips tugging at the strands desperately for some kind of support. Brown was a difficult colour because it was the colour of pecans and caramel, two things good – two things to be desired. Much like chocolate, rich in flavour or the earthy wood that lit the fire in your home. But it’s also the colour of worms after going for a swim in the dirt and spiders.

Now, he lets out a sigh at the feeling of your fingers ghosting over his back. Every touch is gentler then the last and he’d lost count of the hours it’d been since he’d found himself in that very spot. The small amount of moonlight creeping in through the slit in the curtains illuminates the bedroom, telling him that it’d possibly been around three hours. It was never enough to show off the entirety of either of your features, but enough to create a midnight like haze across the duvet and down the sides of the cotton pillows.

“How do you feel?” He speaks, voice raspy and dry and with what little energy he can muster, Tom rolls onto his side, holding himself up slightly with his elbow.

“I feel fine, don’t worry.” You hum, warm breath tickling the glistening skin on his bare chest. “That was really fun.”

Tom allows himself to smile coyly for a second before your touch is replaced with his. “Not about that, about earlier.”

You sit up slightly, feeling the sheets fall around your waist. “I don’t want to talk about it, Tommy, please.”

“You’re going to have to talk about it eventually, I know you’re hurting over what happened.” His fingers run down your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake but that doesn’t phase you – what does is the small talk. Because small talk surely wasn’t common between the two of you. Every conversation happened to be bustling with jokes and filled with laughs or at least longer then seven words long. Most of the time you couldn’t get the other to shut up.

It’s just small talk– embarrassingly empty words shared between the sheets.

“Eventually isn’t tonight, got it?” You prod at his shoulder with the point of your finger, suddenly feeling the urge to bury yourself in the sheets where your problems and stresses couldn’t touch you. “We just had sex, ‘m not going to spill my guts to you after sex of all things. Let me at least regian myself first.”

The space between you and him feels ghostly as warmth escapes the deepest crevices of his sheets. But there’s no trace of awkwardness or an obscene longing as Tom grabs the duvet and lifts it up and around your shoulders. It was to hopefully ease the goosebumps that rose on your skin.

Your eyes are no longer rimmed red and for that you’re thankful.

“Regain yourself?” He questions snarkily. “Am I really that goo–”

“No!” You snap, turning your head fast enough for loose strands of hair to fall over your shoulders. “God, you’re such a goof.”

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with that.” He remarks, feeling himself – and you for that matter, ease out of that post sex haze. You were slowly becoming your snarky, sarcastic selves again. “So, when are we getting you moved in?”

“As soon as possible, hopefully before the cravings really settle in and my feet start to ache.”

“So you can send me out to get you whatever you’re craving at all hours of the day? Nice.” Tom remarks, snorting at the last bit. However, he was beyond willing to rush out of bed at four am to get you peanut butter and hot chips. “I’m not letting you lift any boxes, by the way.”

“Tom, I’m hardly two months pregnant.”

“You’re nine weeks, by the time we move you could be twelve at the most. I’m going to do the lifting.”

You groan but kick your legs over the side of the bed anyway, stretching your limbs out after hours of lazing around and your body makes a few satisfying cracking sounds. And then you feel it in your bladder– the undeniable urge to pee… again. As if you hadn’t already been up three times in the last couple hours.

“I need to pee.” You complain, throwing a shirt over your head. It wasn’t your own, it was him and you’re immediately enveloped in his scent. Some kind of cologne he’d been dousing himself in for the last few years now overtakes your senses. It makes you screw your face up this time and you remember to ask him to change his cologne.

“That’s a symptom of pregnancy.” He tells you, sounding rather blunt.

You roll your eyes, stepping over piles of discarded clothing to reach your door. “It’s a symptom of being human – how do you know about pregnancy symptoms?”

He shrugs his shoulders, opening the instagram app on his phone. “Googled it.”

A part of you is surprised that he’d taken the time to google it, but the other part knows that Tom was always more prepared then you. He wanted to be prepared for what was to come. To be aware and alert. You imagine him staring down at his phone, ingesting information that not even you had had the courage to search just yet.

“Whatever, dork.”

And true to his word, Tom hardy let you lift a box– well, him and Harrison. Harrison who had let it slip that he was aware of the thing blossoming to life in your womb thanks to Tom who for the life of him couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

You had sent Tom a harsh glare and he had thoroughly thanked whoever was above that you weren’t further along in your pregnancy and the mood swings had yet to settle. You were, however, glad that at least someone supported the two of you.

There was a bump beneath your hoodie at this point, one that could easily be mistaken for the aftermath of a heavy desert and initially you’d frowned at the sight. You knew because you’d spent a long time observing it in the mirror this morning, poking it even as if it’d poke back – more like kick. And at twelve, nearly thirteen weeks that little bump had long become a place that Tom would rest his hand at the most – and least intimate of moments.

But this morning bright and early, right before you were meant to take your first lot of things to Toms you had nearly cried to Laura over the phone about how your pants don't fit the way they used too and unbeknown about your pregnancy, she told you not to worry– that they’d fit again soon enough.

You gave them ten months and pulled out a pair of leggings with a scowl.

Google stated that at 12 weeks pregnant, your baby would be as big as a plum. Around 2.1 inches long and a small .49 ounces. Almost excitedly, you’d sent Tom a picture of a plum with the message ‘12 weeks’ under it. He had replied with a ‘wow!’ and a text telling you to hurry up and get to his – soon enough, yours.

“I’m not completely incompetent you know, I can do something.” You had complained during the process, watching Tom place a set of boxes on the empty floor that once belonged to Harrison. You had long turned your nose up and blocked out the smell of boy the overtook the room. Something you thought that by now, you’d be used too after hanging around Tom so much. “If there wasn’t even a bump you wouldn’t know I was pregnant, let me do something.”

Tom seems to ignore the last line and turns to you with one brow raised. Only then he drops the box. “You have a bump now?”

“I do – Tom, be careful, don’t break anything.” You grimace, eyes falling to the box that now lay on the floor.

“Sorry, sorry. I just – Wow, you have a bump.” He winces, hearing the box rattle as he picks it up. Something was definitely broken.

Let me do the lifting, he said, I don’t want you to hurt yourself he further exclaimed.

“That happens when you’re pregnant, ‘ya know? I thought you did all the research.” The corners of your lips curl up and Tom doesn’t move so you huff, stepping towards the boy until you’re only separated by the oversized box that was pressed against his chest. "There's a baby growing in side of me, surely it was bound to happen."

“I just didn’t think…”

You rest two hands on the box and take it from him, settling it down gently incase there was anything worth saving. You hoped that there was between broken pieces – probably those of photo frames and a pot plant.

“Tom, c’mere.” You instruct. He does so, taking a step forward and you take one his hands, resting it over your small bump. It sits on top of your t shirt, teasing the cotton. “Can you feel?”

Tom had left many, fiery touches on your skin before. He’d ghosted fingers over the skin below your breasts all the way down to where your underwear begun and woken up with a hand on your waist – but this time he notices the change. It’s only just there but he notices it and bites back a smile, piercing the inside of his mouth with his teeth.

“There is a bump, wow. That feels…”

“Weird, I know.” You suck in a deep breathe, the mess that currently suffocated the living room going right over your head. It was like you were both in your own little bubble and you allow yourself to reminse over the last few months – even the last year, infact, and how your world had changed because of the plum sized being growing inside your womb. “Do you remember why this all started? Not our friendship but… the agreement?”

“How could I not?” Tom thinks for a moment, shaking his head at the memory. It was one he doubted he’d soon forget. “It was when–”

You interrupt him, feeling the bitter words sitting on the point of your tongue. “When Amy screwed you over.”

“She screwed both of us over.” Tom agrees. You can’t argue with him on that one. “Funny that, we always end up in bed with one another when something goes wrong. Right from the start.”

You stifle a laugh, thinking back to that moment a few weeks ago where you’d ended up slick and between sheets. “Maybe sex isn’t the way we should be dealing with our problems.” You think, screwing your nose up.

“Maybe not,” He decides. “But it works.”

You hesitate before asking the next question, knowing it could end one of two ways and allow it to simmer in your mind for a second. But the words pass your lips before you swear you’re ready to hear the answer.

“Do you regret this?”

Tom doesn’t look up but is sure of his answer, even if it wasn’t what you wanted to hear.

“It should’ve have happened under the circumstances it did but… no, I don’t regret it.” He looks down. “I don’t regret… this.”

Flashback ahead - how the friends with benefits agreement came to be.

Tom furiously tapped on the door of your ragged apartment– scratch that, he didn’t knock. He went straight for the spare key under the pot plant right outside and pushed the door open with a thud. If he hadn’t of text you to say that he was coming over then you would’ve been terrified. Still, you jumped at the slamming of the door.

Internally you’d been thankful because reruns of modern family had long become boring and all your cat did was sleep. Even if Tom was raging, red faced and closed fisted he was better company then the pet and your television set right now. That seemed to be all your apartment contained. Well, that and the thing you called a bed.

“You’re not going to believe this.” He huffs. “She actually tried to make me get rid of you.”

You don’t even get a ‘hey’ in because he’s just that mad. Veins, icy blue and purple and hidden beneath fiery skin.

“She what?” You question, mind foggy after hours of nothingness.

Tom slams his phone and keys down on the kitchen table, watching you swing your legs over the side of the couch. “Said I spend too much time with you. She deleted your fucking number from my phone, unfollowed you on instagram–”

“Unfollowed me on instagram? On your account? That’s so petty.” You scoff, your berry flavoured ice cream long was forgotten. “Why’s she so jealous? I set the two of you up in the first place.”

It was true, you snuck Amy a card with Toms hours on it and told her to give him a visit at the bar. Claiming that after spending so long alone he deserved someone that made his days easier and she seemed to be the key – keyword seemed to be. Amy was bright and bubbly, with a knack for saying the right thing at the right time and you just knew Tom would be charmed by her smile – and he was. From the pink that lined her lips and the rim of the glass that night to her stories about her travels.

“When I told her that nothing was happening she told me that if nothing was happening then I would just cut you out of my life – then she claimed that I was cheating on her with you when I said I wouldn’t do that.” He huffs. "She went ballistic... I didn't even know that was possible."

You choke, because that was far from the truth. If anything the two of you hadn’t gone further with one another then a few drunk kisses but that was before he got with Amy. Before you sent her to the bar to win him over which she did in an instant. Tom was nothing less then loyal.

“What a bitch!” You exclaim, scoffing at the statement.

“I’m just… I’m angry! I’m angry at her because I thought she was different then that and I’m angry at myself for nearly going through with it.”

“Woah woah woah, wait up.” You stand up, the blanket falling from around your waist and it pools at your feet in a woollen pile. And there it would stay. “You nearly went through with it? You’re such an idiot.” You roll your eyes and then your mother's voice is drowning out any other noise – telling you that one day your eyes would get stuck in the back of your head.

“For a split second.” He tries telling you. Your mouth falls open and Tom grimaces. “She was convincing but I swear it was only for a second! I was never going to get rid of you, please.”

“For fuck sake, Thomas.” Taking a step, you forget about the blanket and trip up, stumbling on the cotton and you’re own two feet but he’s there – and you fall into Tom, gripping each of his arms to steady yourself but that doesn’t wipe the heavy glare off of your features, if anything it merely makes your cheeks heat up. “So you left her and came to me?”

“Well… yeah? Where else was I meant to go?” He raises a brow, not mentioning the fact that your hands remain around his biceps. The ring on your right hand, hugging your finger is hard against his cotton.

“Home.” You reply. A snarl takes place on your face, one that makes Tom shrink back before he regains himself.

He smiles a coy smile, curls – the longest you’d seen on him hanging over his forehead. “But you’re my home.”

For a moment your heart sings a chorus of tunes, but then you snort. It was sometimes hard to tell when Tom was being genuine considering the boy had a sense of humour that could outlive yours. You often chucked cliche lines back and forth, quoting films such as Titanic and La La land but this time you couldn’t decide if he’d pulled that straight from a film or if the words had come from him.

“That is the cheesiest thing you’ve ever said to me in the entirety of our friendship.” You snort.

Toms' cheeks are painted a light shade of pink and he finds himself struggling to come up with his next set of words.

“Are you sure? I’m pretty sure the other week I said something about how you can make my day go from a three to a nine and a half.”

“C’mere,” You chuckle, throwing your arms around his shoulders. Tom is welcoming and you breathe in the scent of his cologne on his collar. It was the same one he wore the day you met. He leans into you more, head in the crock of your neck. “Seriously though, are you feeling okay after what happened? I know you really liked her.”

Tom purses his lips, speaking softly against you. “I’m okay, things had been falling apart for a bit anyway.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” You murmur into his shoulder, pulling away only slightly to look him in the eyes. Tom gazes down with loving, brown eyes you’d come to memorise. Speaks of green dot the outside, a gentle emerald.

He lets out a breath, mind reeling. “What do you want to do?”

A small laugh etches past your lips. “You’re the one that just ended a relationship, you tell me.” You push your lips into a smile and ignore the pounding of your heart. You hope Tom can’t feel it. That’d result in endless teasing, you asume, but little did you know Tom's was beating profusely too.

Maybe it wouldn’t have happened if the fire wasn’t crackling and popping in the corner, warming your left sides or if you hadn’t downed a cup and a half of wine that evening making you a little more confident that what you usually were. Tom however, hadn't had a drop of alcohol.

“I kind of want to kiss you?” He says as more of a suggestion then anything.

And Tom had always been pretty good at speaking his mind but holy shit now he’d gone too far and holy shit he really shouldn’t have said that and holy shit! You’re staring at him like you want to hit him… or kiss him? He can’t decide.

Every part of you heats up, like flares igniting from your chest to your cheeks. “Are you supposed to say that?”

“I don’t want to kiss you if you don’t want to kiss me because… that’d be unfair.” Tom says, swallowing back his embarrassment. He was growing warmer then the flames that licked the inside of the fireplace.

"I'm not going to stop you if you wanted to try it." You merely suggest, curiosity peaking. And that's enough because Tom can hear the genuine in your voice, leaking from your words and he closes what little distance was wedged between the two of you.

It only goes on for a few seconds before the kiss grows furious and full of points to be proven. His lips don’t taste like bitter alcohol like last time - and instead taste of the remains of the mint he’d chewed on the way over. It’s a soothing scent, one that has you leaning into him for more before the realisation settles in.

“Tom- wait,” You stop, hands moving from around his neck and instead press against his chest, allowing just a little bit of distance between the two of you. “What about your girlfriend?” You question. You pant lowely, attempting to get your breathing straight but it’s harder then you expected when the tips of his fingers are leaving little marks on your waist. Leaving gentle reminders for tomorrow.

“I broke up with her before I left, it’s for good this time.” Tom says it with a sigh of relief. You allow the remorse to simmer away. This was about you and him and releasing the pent up frustration. “I don’t want to lose you – I can’t. I meant what I said you know, you’re my home.”

The silence of your living room engulfs every word, swallowing them whole never to be spoken of again. Every word seems to be another promise between best friends. Best friends long restricted. Up until now and up until now, you hadn’t realised that you were hungry – hungry for him.

There was a fire in the pit of your stomach blazing, craving more and Tom would be lying if he said he didn’t feel the same.

“You won’t.” You tell him, fingers crawling up his chest until they reach the collar of his shirt. You tug at it, feeling the material collect in your hands. “You won’t lose me.”

Maybe this should be wrong because it’s your best friend and this was something that best friends didn’t necessarily do – but with Tom you couldn’t help but feel like it was so right. And to a degree, Amy had been right about the two of you but you told yourself there was no feelings besides friendship involved.

But from there on out you were no longer just friends.

And maybe Tom had hoped that you’d fully received his confession. That you understood that he couldn’t lose you because his feelings had surprised what he would say was normal for friends but it was late and maybe the words just went in one ear and out the other.

Part 6

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