#i feel emotional and I just wanna tell my moots that I love them. | 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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ssa-sapphic-inactive · 3 years ago

Text

hello, friends!

it’s that time of year again where love, envy and/or hopelessness are all seemingly at the forefront of our lives. so, with that thought in mind, i wanted to do a little something special to commemorate all of the many emotions that february might bring to all of us! :)

or in other words, i wanted to do a celebration thingy but didn’t really have anything to celebrate and valentine’s day is low key a bummer so this is the result lol [currently no deadline]

anywho, the lists under each category below are specifically targeted for the feelings and/or state you might been in during this month so far, so feel free to choose what you’re currently in need of <3

sad/lonely/heartbroken/depressed:

📕 - need someone to talk to? reassurance? tell me a bit about what’s going on if you’re comfortable, and in return, i’ll give you a personalized and encouraging message. or just vent to me on anon and i’ll provide a listening ear for you

👤 - wanna cry? sometimes that’s the best form of medicine. send me your go-to song to cry to and i’ll provide you with a mini playlist containing more that relate + songs that get me emotional so that we can cry together bestie

❤️‍🩹 - tired of being down and out? feeling numb? well not on my watch. it is now my mission to make you smile, even if for a second. memes, jokes, stories of embarrassing things i’ve done, etc. whatever it is, if it makes you laugh or provides you with entertainment than that’s what matters

yearning/dreaming/hoping/chillin:

👥 - i’m always in a perpetual state of yearning and dreaming for things, people, and realities that aren’t quite in my reach, and there’s always a song to convey those thoughts and feelings. send me three adjectives that describe what you’re feeling in this moment, and i’ll make you a playlist based on them

🕹 - just here for the fun of it? that’s totally fine! let’s play a game or two: fmk, would you rather, send me a ship and i’ll give you my honest opinion using only pictures from my pinterest meme board, most likely to, etc. whatever fun thing you can think of i’m down to play ;)

🦋- honesty hour has commenced, send me q&a’s about whatever it is your heart desires and i’ll do my best to answer truthfully if it’s something i’m comfortable with (my walls are down because i have nothing really to lose at the moment so do your worst)

crushing/romantic/cliché/lover:

💋 - want a friendly valentine’s day card? if you’re a moot, gimmie a kiss and i’ll make a personalized one just for you because ily 😙💌

🫂 - send me a cm themed ship along with an activity or date idea and i’ll make you a moodboard for it! (anything goes except for emilyxmale pairings. sorry not sorry <3)

🌹 - crushes suck sometimes, but they can also be sweet. if you’re feeling daring, anonymously (or not lol) send me a rose along with the user of your crush and i’ll add a little valentines day card attachment to it so that they can receive a cute little surprise 🥰

tagging some mutuals so this doesn’t flop: @ssajemilyprentiss @ellcsgreenaway @meganskane @originalvampireslut @alexbllake @sweetprentiss @arigotssomekinks @themoontaxi @deadravenclaw @sturmmhond @ssasimmonz @lilacsandfreesias @5raysofsunshine @thatfangirl42 @dalexandriag16 @gravelyhumerus @nocreditinthestraightworld

#just something simple because i’m bored #no pressure to do this!#also if i didn’t tag you i’m sorry! i haven’t been on here in a while and my mind is blurry #everyone is welcome tho :)#harley’s thoughts 💭#february feelings ❄️🤍

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butmakeitgayblog · 4 years ago

Text

City of Angels: Just a Little Doped Up

Also available on AO3

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Lexa ached seeing her wife in pain.

Ached.

The weeks leading up to the big day had left Lexa feeling emotionally drained; a jittery ball of nerves bouncing from one room of their apartment to the next, testing out any and every remedy she could come up with to alleviate her wife's discomfort. Weeding through half-hearted protests of, "I'm fine," and diligently argued pleas of, "I'll do it later," Lexa clawed, begged, borrowed, and stole her way to this particular finish line.

After a month of grumbled fights and empty threats of a contentious divorce if Clarke didn't stop rescheduling, Lexa could only manage a haphazard sigh at being on the receiving end of her wife's icy glare when they'd finally led her away.

Because Clarke had eventually agreed to the procedure, albeit with an air of begrudging resignation, having spent the days leading up to the appointment grumpily preparing Lexa for what to expect.

And she thought she did know what to expect. Lexa had fully anticipated the swollen cheeks and glazed eyes that greeted her when the nurse had called her back. She'd expected the blood tinted dribble of drool that leaked from the lax hang of her wife's mouth. Even the wobbly chin and glistening sheen of tears upon seeing her again didn't lead Lexa to think a single thing was amiss.

But this?

She certainly hadn't anticipated this.

"Who the hell is that?"

"Pardon?" Lexa mumbled in return as she continued to read through the clipboard in her hands, a sigh escaping her at the fifth question in a row.

"I thaaaid," Clarke pushed out with a glassy roll of her eyes, "who the hell is that?"

Slowly dragging her eyes up for a moment Lexa flashed a pleading, yet overly-saccharine, look of love at her wife.

"Clarke?" she said as sweetly as she could manage.

"Hu?"

"Shhh. Just for a little bit, okay?"

Lexa watched an affronted frown pull at her wife's lips, cheeks stuffed with enough gauze to render any threat from the look quite moot. Shooting the disgruntled love of her life another smile, Lexa turned back to the discharge sheet she'd been attempting to fill out.

"Is she always this… lively?"

A cough of laughter jumped from Lexa's chest as she dotted the final 'i' in her last name. Handing the clipboard back to the waiting nurse, Lexa grinned over at the woman now fighting through a series of torturous looking blinks.

"You have no idea," she whispered. "But this is rare form, for sure. You'd think a doctor would-"

"Oh no," the nurse, Monroe, interrupted, shaking her head ruefully as she moved to slip the clipboard in its holder. "Doctors make the worst patients. If they're not pulling the MD card on you, they--"

"Heeey you. C'mere."

"-- Act like a fool?" Lexa finished for her, tossing an exasperated look toward the caregiver in charge.

Turning to the sound of her wife's call, Lexa had to swallow the urge to laugh. Despite Clarke's best attempt at what Lexa knew to be her sultry voice of seduction, the growing puddle of spittle escaping the loose sling of her mouth was enough to kill any hope of that particular mood.

"Yes, my love?" she soothed anyway, rolling the wheeled stool she sat on over to catch her wife's searching hand. "You feeling okay?"

"Yeah," Clarke hummed, her words sticky, and slow, and slurred. "There's thit in my mouf."

"It's gauze, sweetheart," Lexa said, leaning down to press the whisper of a kiss to the swollen curve of Clarke's jaw. "You had your wisdom teeth taken out."

"They took my teef?!"

Seeing the flash of indignant anger in Clarke's eyes, Lexa immediately moved to intercept Clarke's free hand that had sluggishly tried, and failed, to fly up to her mouth.

"You asked them to, remember? They were hurting you."

Clarke shook her head, her eyes turning watery along with her words. "I wouldn't do that."

"I promise ya, hun," the nurse chuckled as she moved to Clarke's other side. "You did."

"But I hate doctorth."

"Amen, sister," Monroe hummed as she took Clarke's wrist and did a final check of her vitals.

Lexa watched as Clarke's eyes seemed to spin in their sockets for a moment before landing on her again, a smile blooming on Lexa's lips at her wife's adorable befuddlement.

"I lub you," Clarke slurred with doe-eyed conviction, picking her head up just to have it fall back a second later. Letting her wandering gaze loop around to her opposite side, baby-blues turned to the nurse instead. "I lub her, ya know."

"I should hope so," the nurse grinned as she placed Clarke's hand back down. "Otherwise the whole marriage thing would be kinda awkward."

"Yeah," Clarke said in a lazy sigh. "That'd be weird… Like we were straight--."

"Okay, Clarke," Lexa tried, shooting Monroe an apologetic smile. "Why don't we just-"

"But I'm in lub with her," she rolled on, pausing for a moment to noisily smack her obviously numb lips. "She's an angel, ya know?"

"She seems like it."

"No. No," Clarke shook her head defiantly. "You don't get it."

Releasing a nervous laugh, Lexa squeezed the hand in her grip in warning. "Clarke--"

"She's an angel. Like with the flappy wingth one. A halo and… 'N a harp, I think. Birkenstockth."

"Well those are certainly all words," Monroe smiled down at the babbling patient.

"She fell down a cliff to lub me," Clarke crooned in high-pitched broken words, her lip starting to tremble again with emotion.

Running a soothing hand through blonde hair, Lexa shook her head at the nurse holding back laughter as she stood to lean over her doped-up wife. "Clarke, sweetheart, shhhh, okay? We're gonna be going home in a minute, so just rest. If you talk too much, the swelling will be worse."

"Thee, look," Clarke said, ignoring Lexa entirely as she flopped a hand in the general direction of Lexa's face. "She's still got a lil thcar on her eye... I kith it when she's thleeping."

Head rolling back towards the nurse, Clarke looked up with a deadpan warning.

"Don't tell her that though."

"It'll be our little secret," Monroe winked before moving toward the door. "Okay, Mrs. Griffin, I'm gonna go get you the rest of your aftercare info and a wheelchair, and then you can get this one home."

Lexa breathed a sigh of relief and smiled. "Thanks, Monroe."

"No problem, just sit tight."

The door clicked shut as the woman left, Lexa taking her seat again to fire off a text to Raven to let her know they'd be done soon. A hush fell over the room as she slid her phone back into her pocket before lifting her head… and seeing her wife glaring daggers at the closed door.

"What?"

Blue eyes rolled to her with what Lexa supposed could be defined as righteous indignation.

"I think that bith was flirtin' with me."

"Clarke," Lexa gasped and her mouth dropped open. "Do not call her that."

"She got all winky with me," Clarke argued, mimicking the move by seductively winking with both eyes. "I know what that meansth."

"Sweetheart, she was not flirting with you."

"She's trying to busth up a happy home. Make me get a divorce."

"She wasn't. She just thought you were being goofy."

"I'm not goofy… You're goofy."

Lexa simply sighed. "I am goofy, you're right."

"I know," Clarke nodded as Lexa tucked back a wayward curl behind Clarke's ear. "... 'N fuckin' 'winky' out there-"

"Clarke, stop."

"You tell her to sthop," Clarke frowned. "I'm married and she nid- no- needs to knock it off."

"I'll tell her that, okay?"

Clarke merely sighed, head falling to the side as stared over at Lexa through several slow blinks. "I can't feel my lipth."

"They're still there. Pretty as ever."

"I think they took my tongue away."

"I hope not. Definitely need that for later."

Clarke perked up at that.

"Are we gonna have thex later?"

"No," Lexa chuckled. "You're high as a kite, love. And you're going to be in a lot of pain in just a little bit, so I think it's gonna be a while before-"

Her words cut off as Clarke's bottom lips scrunched together, eyes filling with tears yet again.

"Oh, don't cry," Lexa hushed through a laugh as she scooted closer, carefully cradling her wife's face in her palms. She swept the pad of her thumb along the delicate row of lashes, collecting the dewy droplets before they could fall.

"You don't wanna have thex with me anymore," Clarke sniffled.

"I always want to have sex with you, Clarke," Lexa assured with a smile, rolling her eyes at the entire trainwreck of a conversation. "But you just had surgery, so for now you have to heal first."

"... Heal first?"

"Yes," Lexa nodded definitively. "Heal first, then sex. I promise."

Clarke seemed to debate the matter for a moment, her eyes shifting in and out of focus as Lexa ran fingers through the tendrils of her hair.

"Okay," Clarke finally conceded, giving a lazy shrug of her shoulder as all traces of sadness suddenly vanished from her face.

Lexa snorted as she pulled back, glad to have seemingly navigated that particular minefield successfully. A quiet knock on the door pulled her attention away as the door eased open and Monroe walked backward into the room.

"Alright, Clarke," she announced, pivoting around to pull a wheelchair up to the side of the recovery chair. "Your chariot awaits, m'lady."

"Oh look, winky'th back. Mleeeh."

Monroe's face pulled to the side in confusion, her gaze darting to Lexa who could only close her eyes and shake her head in answer. Biting her lips to seemingly hold back an amused response, the nurse gave a tiny nod of understanding as she moved to help the patient currently losing a battle with a blanket.

"Alrighty. Anyway. Ready to head home, Mrs. Griffin?"

"Griffin-Woodth," Clarke immediately groaned as she lumbered to her feet, one arm hooked through Lexa's while the other elbowed the nurse away. "We're a team."

Monroe lifted her hands up in surrender when Lexa grunted against Clarke's struggling and gave up on their coaxing method of transport, instead moving to wrap an arm around Clarke's waist to bodily shuffle her into the wheelchair. Easing her wife down in the seat, Lexa dodged a sloppy kiss aimed at her cheek.

"Hang on, sweetheart, you're bleeding again," she rushed out before Clarke could become emotionally unglued at her rebuff, mechanically moving to ransack the sterile tray still off to the side to grab a few fresh bundles of gauze.

Squatting down, Lexa tipped Clarke's head forward by her chin, thanking everything holy when her wife let her mouth fall open at her urging. Swapping out the soaked gauze for fresh ones and escaping unscathed from the teasing nip of teeth at her fingers, Lexa tenderly wiped Clarke's chin clean before tossing the rolls in the biohazard bin and moving to wash her hands.

"Well at least we know she's all set for home aftercare," Monroe said with a grin as Lexa shook her hands off and wiped them dry on a few paper towels.

Ears pinking at the statement, Lexa ditched the towels in the bin as well and made her way back over. "Yeah, sorry. Force of habit. Working inside of a hospital and being married to a doctor for four years, you just kinda get used to it."

"A lot of spouses can be a little put-off by the blood and drool."

"She drools when she sleeps anyway," Lexa shrugged, gathering up the paperwork they needed and stuffing them inside Clarke's purse. Placing the bag over her shoulder, Lexa leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her wife's forehead. "You ready to go home, love?"

"Mhmmmm," Clarke hummed with a dopey bob of her head.

Lexa held the door open as the nurse started wheeling Clarke out, her eyes doing a scan of the room to make sure they had everything. A quick jog let her catch up to the pair as they neared the patient checkout, Clarke babbling Monroe's ear off the entire way.

"Hey, sexy," a voice shouted as the doors of the clinic slid open. "Get your fine ass over here."

Lexa smiled at the call as she looked up from the soggy flow of words her wife was directing at seemingly no one in particular.

"Wabeeeen," Clarke called back in a throaty haze of excitement, her head and hand not holding an ice-pack wobbling back and forth in a bizarre kind of drugged-up celebration dance. "Baby, Waben's here."

"I know," Lexa said as Monroe wheeled them toward the SUV parked by the curb. "She drove us here. And now she's gonna give us a ride home, remember?"

"That'th nice of her... She's tho nice," Clarke sniffled as they pulled to a stop. Lexa could barely hold back a sputter of laughter at that, giving Clarke a conciliatory nod.

"Sure she is. We'll go with that."

"Jesus, Griff, what'd they do to you?"

Lexa's head snapped up to level their friend with a warning glare after blue eyes turned to her and started welling up all over again.

"Because ya look great!" Raven very expertly added, pulling her lips back in apology before spinning around toward her car and opening the door. "Okay, let's get you up and in, princess. Chop chop."

Scoffing at that pathetic display, Lexa pulled the purse off of her shoulder and shoved it in Raven's general direction as she rounded to the front of the wheelchair.

"You ready to get in, love?" she asked as she squatted down in front of her wife. "Me and Monroe are gonna help, okay?"

"No."

"Clarke--"

"I can walk mythelf."

"Let us help."

"You really shouldn't walk by yourself, Mrs. Griffin."

Clarke scowled at the nurse, a mumbled "Griffin-Woodth" floating between them as Lexa straightened back up.

"Don't make me do it, Clarke."

Blue eyes swung back around to her, a defiant glint coloring them… once they'd stopped rolling in Clarke's head.

"You're gonna be mad at yourself later," Lexa reminded. She waited a long moment as her wife stubbornly stared back. Shoulders slumping in defeat, Lexa stepped aside with a sigh and nodded toward the car.

Raven smiled and shook her head as she raised a knuckle and rapped twice on the darkened window.

"You owe me five bucks, Woods," Raven said as the door popped open.

"Yeah, yeah," Lexa frowned and shuffled aside to make room. "Excuse me for siding with my wife."

"Well in all fairness, it was a really dumb bet."

"Thank you," Lexa drawled as her friend stepped out.

Anya only shrugged as she closed the door behind her. Stepping to the wheelchair, she pulled up the sleeves of her long black coat and smirked down. "So we meet again, Clarke."

"Anya!" Clarke cheered, throwing her hand up to awkwardly pat the woman on the arm. Twisting around to look at the nurse behind her, Clarke hushed her voice and added, "She's an angel too, ya know?"

"Is that right?"

"Mhm. Our guard- our garden- our gardenia angel. But she kinda thucks at it. Don't tell her I thaid that though."

Anya's spine snapped to attention at the words, her glare darting between Lexa and the nurse eyeing the strangeness of her thick, dark outfit in the middle of L.A. heat with curiosity. Letting out a nervous chuckle, Lexa minutely shook her head and grabbed Clarke's hand to get her attention.

"Yes, sweetheart, everyone here's an angel. Let's get you in the car now, 'kay?"

"Yes," Monroe said as she seemed to blink herself out of whatever thoughts she'd been having, instead walking to the side of the wheelchair and flipping on the breaks. "Time to go, Mrs. Griffin… Woods. Griffin-Woods," she tacked on at the narrowing of Clarke's eyes before glancing up at the woman across from her. "You wanna grab that side?"

"Don't worry about it, just step back," Raven said as she helped Lexa guide the nurse up and away. "It'll be easier this way 'cause grouchy ass likes to fight anyone helping her."

With that, Anya crouched down and slid one arm beneath the bend of Clarke's knees, the other snaking between her arm and waist to wrap around her back.

"Up we go," Anya murmured and lifted Clarke out of the seat, ignoring the lazy protests from her passenger as she kicked aside the wheelchair with ease. Monroe grappled to grab and right the seat as Lexa refused to look at her, instead letting her head fall into her hand at the entire display.

Raven opened the backseat door as wide as it would go when Anya stepped forward.

"Clarke, tuck your head into me like you do Lexa," Anya said as she bent to scoot the woman through the door of the car, only to yank back a moment later with a garbled yell of disgust. "Not like that!"

"Anya--"

"She licked me!"

"You thaid like Lexa."

"Why did I agree to not film this?" Raven groaned and flopped back against the side of the car.

"Can we please get this shit show on the road," Lexa sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as she took control of the chaos and began rattling off instructions. "Clarke, no licking. Anya, just get her in the car. Raven, you agreed because your friend, my wife, is a very well-respected doctor and teacher, and having a video of her licking a random woman's neck wouldn't be great for her career. Now, go start the car. Monroe… I don't even know. Thank you? And I'm sorry about all of this."

The nurse simply smiled as she reached down to unlock the wheels again and looped around back toward the clinic. "Don't worry about it. Happens more often than you'd think. She'll be out of it for a bit, but just roll with it. Keep everything clean, read the aftercare instructions, and call if you have any questions."

Exchanging a final nod of goodbye, the nurse left the group and went back inside.

"Okay, put her in, Ahn. I'll meet you on the other side."

With a disgruntled huff, Anya gave the woman in her arms another wary glance and moved to settle her into the backseat. Lexa rushed around the back of the SUV and flung the door open, slipping in and across the bench seat in the back as Anya leaned in and set Clarke down.

"Hey, Clarke? I'm gonna buckle you in now," Lexa said as she accepted the seat belt clasp Anya stretched out for her.

Clarke glared between the two of them, her hands swatting at her sides. "I'm not a child. I can do it mythelf."

"You just licked Anya's neck in the middle of a parking lot," Raven pointed out as she started the engine. "And that was after you told a random stranger that she's a whole ass angel."

"Yeah, she told her I was one inside as well," Lexa said as she clicked the buckle in place.

"Hence why we're not exactly trusting you or your motor functions right now, babe."

"But she is an angel. You are an angel," Clarke hummed, sending a hazy look of adoration to her wife while Lexa draped a blanket over her lap. "You're my angel."

"Say angel again," Raven snorted and slipped on a pair of sunglasses.

"... Sure doesn't fuck like an angel though."

"Ew, no!" Anya thundered and flung herself backward out of the door frame, dramatically heaving twice before slamming the door shut hard enough to rock the entire car.

"Clarke," Lexa hissed as her wife continued to leer.

"Huh?"

Anya grunted as she whipped the front door open and climbed in. "Why did I agree to come to this?"

Clarke's lips pooched as she sent a very wet sounding smooch in Lexa's direction. "Don't be mad, baby. I like that you're nasty in bed."

"Oh my G-- Lexa, will you please muzzle her. No one wants to hear this."

"Speak for yourself," Raven gleefully cut in as she started to pull away. "Get it, Griff! Tell us the really freaky shit."

"She lets me--"

"Clarke!" Lexa yelled while leaning forward to get her attention. Glazed eyes blinked at her in slow passes as a pout spread across Clarke's face. Sighing when she was sure she had her wife's attention, Lexa reached up and tugged a curl of blonde behind her ear. "... I promise you, whatever it was you wanted to say just now, you would wholeheartedly regret saying it later. Especially to Raven."

"That's fair actually," Raven called back as she moved them through midmorning traffic.

Clarke shifted to reach for Lexa's hand, assuring her in what Lexa supposed could be a valiant attempt at a whisper. "Don't worry, baby. I wasn't gonna tell 'em about the butt stuff."

Eyes sliding closed as a chorus of retching mingled with cackling laughter from the front seat, Lexa sat back in her seat and ran a hand through her hair.

"Not a word."

"I'm not saying anything," Raven choked out through the dying rolls of her laughter.

The car fell quiet as they drove, Lexa looking out the window and letting her mind drift. She watched the cars and hills of the outskirts of L.A. fly past as they wound their way home. Despite… well, everything, she was glad this was finally over; the final expense officially checked off of their list of 'to-do's'. She idly tapped her fingers on the leather of her seat and admired the green hillsides, smiling to herself as she thought of what came next.

They hadn't told anyone when they'd made the decision to start looking through private listings, Lexa having sworn Anya to secrecy until they'd figured out an actual plan. She wondered if she'd miss the familiar drive to their apartment, the only home she'd truly known on Earth. She was excited, if not a little nervous, but ready to take the next step with the… absolute mess of a woman beside her.

Letting her head lull back over to check on her patient, Lexa startled a bit to find watery, blue eyes already staring back.

"What's the matter?" she hushed in a soft and concerned voice, scooting closer as she reached up to brush away a rogue tear.

"You're really hot... And tho pretty."

Rolling her eyes at the dreamy words, Lexa grinned back. "Not as pretty as you."

"My wife'th gonna be tho mad at me," Clarke whined and shook her head.

"... Why is your wife going to be mad at you?" she asked with a quirk of her brow.

"'Cause I think you're really hot," Clarke confessed through a fresh wave of tears.

"Seriously can you like, knock her out or something?"

"Shut up, Anya," Lexa said as she scooted the remaining distance between them. "Clarke, darling, I promise, your wife won't be mad at you for thinking I'm hot."

"How do you know?"

"Because she's your wife, genius," Anya drawled. "I still can't believe they trust that woman with human lives."

"You're just a little doped up right now," Lexa soothed even as reached out to flick her friend on the ear. "Don't worry though, I'll take care of everything. You just relax."

Clarke blinked owlishly at her for a minute, Lexa clearly able to see the cogs grinding to life through the fog of the drugs. She smiled and nodded as Clarke's face suddenly lit up, eyebrows shooting upward as her mouth dropped open.

"Oh yeah," Clarke beamed, her head wobbling back and forth as she flopped around a little in her seat. "That is you, innit. I forgot, ha. That'th crazy."

"It is."

"Man, I am high."

"You are."

"You should kith me."

"I should not."

Lexa nearly groaned as soon as the words left her mouth.

Clarke's face fell into a devastated frown, her lip trembling as her head fell to her shoulder. "You don't wanna kith me."

"Clarke, no, that's not it--"

"I knew it. I'm tho ugly now you won't kith me anymore."

"Oh my God, stop. Just, hang on," Lexa huffed. "Raven, do you have napkins or Kleenex in here? Anything?"

She waited as Anya rifled through the glovebox, accepting the fistful of napkins along with a deep look of disdain when she passed them back. Gently cradling her wife's chin, Lexa tilted her face back up.

"I'm gonna make you a deal," she murmured as she dabbed away as much blood and spit from Clarke's lips as she could. "I will kiss you. But. You have to let me kiss you. You just sit there, okay?"

Clarke bobbed her head in a tiny nod, Lexa's heart squeezing tight at the sad but hopeful face still cradled in her palm. Once she deemed those lips as clean as she could ever hope for given the situation, Lexa tossed the soiled napkins into the seat beside her.

Bringing her other hand up, Lexa held her wife's face between her palms, a smile spreading over her lips as she took in the sight of her. The sight of laugh lines that had begun reaching out from the corners of baby blues, their recent appearance reminding Lexa how happy their life together had proven to be. She admired the few twists of grey that weaved in and out of silken blonde, the effect of them making the woman look all the more distinguished.

Running her thumbs over the apples of delicate cheekbones, Lexa leaned in and gently pressed a kiss to her wife's lips. She hummed at the familiar feeling, soft and sweet as ever, her movements steady and light so as to not cause any pain. Pulling away, she left a last peck on Clarke's upper lip, forever a slave to sealing the little beauty mark with a kiss.

"Better?" she whispered as she watched Clarke's eyes flutter back open.

Clarke was quiet as she stared back, a long moment passing before she heaved a defeated sigh.

"I couldn't feel it."

Lexa did her best to bite back a snort of laughter, head dropping forward as her chest shook with the effort. "Don't worry, sweetie. I'll kiss you plenty to make up for it when you feel better, I promise."

"We're here, lovebirds," Raven announced as she pulled to a stop outside of their apartment building. Lexa squeezed her shoulder over the top of the seat in thanks as she reached for the handle. "I'm gonna stay here so my lazy ass doesn't have to find a place to park, but I'm gonna call you guys later, okay?"

Grunting in acceptance as she opened her door, Lexa hopped out and ran around the back of the car to meet Anya on the other side. A few petulant protests and a very one sided bartering war later, Lexa pressed the button to shut the doors of the elevator in their building.

Sighing as she all but collapsed back against the rail of the elevator, Lexa reached out a hand to nudge her friend's shoulder.

"Thanks again, Ahn."

"Yeah, whatever," Anya grumbled, adjusting her grip on the woman sagged at her side.

If Lexa had had the energy she would've laughed at the pair of them, knowing full well Anya was supporting every inch of the woman's weight despite Clarke's staunch insistence that she could walk.

She reminded herself that her wife's stubbornness was part of why she loved her.

"Okay, here we go," Lexa rallied as the doors slid open on their floor. "Last stretch, love, and then you can rest."

"I wanna make nachos."

"Yeah, we'll have to see about that," Lexa shook her head as she jogged ahead to unlock the door, holding it open as Anya all but dragged Clarke through the entrance of their apartment.

"Where should I put her?"

"Bedroom."

"No," Clarke said with enough ferocity it startled the pair, taking Anya particularly by surprise when she elbowed her way out of the hold and launched herself toward the couch.

Lexa felt her heart jump up into her throat as Clarke nosedived toward the cushions, landing face first into the set of pillows.

"Clarke!" she yelped, darting around the couch and crouching over her. Biting back a twitch of annoyance, Lexa pulled the woman upward and helped her flip over. "Jesus, you have got to be more careful. You could've really hurt yourself."

"I'm fine, baby," Clarke slurred, glassy eyes shining behind the low droop of her lids. "I don't feel anything. You could punch me right in the mouf and I'd be fine."

"I'm not going to punch you."

"I might."

"Goodbye, Anya. Thank you for helping," Lexa blindly called over her shoulder, "but you can go now. Raven's waiting."

"Right, right, right," Anya said, rapping a knuckle on the wall as she turned to go. "I'll leave you to take care of the little missus. Call if you need anything. Feel better, doc."

"Byeeeeeeeeee," Clarke sing-songed out to her before the door closed, shimmying in place as Lexa helped her adjust on to her back. "She's gonna go makeout with Waben."

"What else is new," Lexa grinned and pulled the blanket off of the back of the couch.

Lexa moved to take off Clarke's shoes and socks, leaning down to peck a quick kiss to the wiggly toes before tucking them under the blanket as well. After placing the shoes in their home along the front hall of their apartment, she moved to ditch the balled up socks in the laundry despite the disgruntled yowl from the plump feline stationed on top of their washer.

The jingle of Penny's collar followed her as she went about collecting the supplies listed on the aftercare sheet, piling a tiny tray up with gauze squares, water, pain medicine, and snacks.

"That'd not nachoth," Clarke said with a sleepy grump of a frown as Lexa laid the tray on the coffee table beside her.

"Not nachos. No crunchy stuff, unfortunately. Doctor's orders. But may I offer you a bowl of our finest applesauce?"

"This is bullthit."

"I know."

"You did this to me, and I'll neber forgib you."

"I know."

"Will you cuddle wif me?"

Smiling down at her wife, Lexa simply nodded and quickly tied her back into a ponytail.

"Scooch," she hummed, toeing off her shoes before gingerly climbing over to the opposite side. Lowering herself as gently as possible, Lexa fit herself into the snug space between her wife and the back of their couch. She wriggled down enough to make sure she was safe from knocking into the already swollen jaw.

"Better?" Lexa whispered as she rested her head on Clarke's chest and draped an arm around her waist.

"Mhm," Clarke said, the drowsy weight of her hum sounding peaceful and warm.

"You can't sleep with those things in your mouth."

"Not thleepin'."

Giving up that fight before it could start and deciding she'd just slip them out once the woman dozed off, Lexa snuggled in deeper, breathing in calming lungfuls of her wife's scent.

The day had been insane, which after four years of marriage she was generally used to, but overall Lexa couldn't help but pat herself on the back. She knew when the medicine started to wear off they'd both be in a world of pain, but for now, she let herself relax into the peace of the moment.

Which was promptly broken by the faint buzz of Clarke's phone.

Sighing in annoyance, Lexa dug her hand under the blanket and into Clarke's pocket to pull it out. She thumbed in the passcode, muscle memory having her click 1203 for their anniversary without a thought, and tapped to open the notification.

Asshole (11:42 a.m.): so... you're gonna tell me about that butt stuff thing later right?

"For fuck's sake, Raven." With a disgusted sigh, Lexa closed out the message and slapped the phone on the table.

Snuggling back into the snoozing body beneath her, Lexa decided she'd just have to deal with that later.

#sorry for the ugly ass moodboard just go with it #clexa #clexaweek 21 #clexaweek 21 day 6 #day 6 magic #CoA

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lovelytetsuro · 4 years ago

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If you haven’t done it already, ship your moots ! <3

ooo omg omg okay !! lmk if i forgot anyone <3

@katsdni + shinsou — they just match you know. he 100% is such a ridiculous blushy mess for her and they’re both just the epitome of cozy couple vibes. also?? they both swap sweaters every now and then and they’re closets are just basically a fusion of their styles.

@katsucookie + midoriya — RAHHH CUTEST PAIR IN THE WORLD, it’s very much (oblivious) friends to lovers because they’re both blind to each other’s feelings but when they do realize they’re the cutest ever? definitely the smartest pair ever too

@katsukissy + megumi — they give off chill couple vibes but i feel like if you really get close to them and they’re just doing weird shit all the time JSBSJS but mm they give off like moon and the stars kinda vibe <3

@lilsparkyswife + bakugou — no bc von would be the only one to calm his ass down and sass him around like it’s nothing. she probably makes fun of his fashion sense and he’s just like ╰（‵□′）╯ but it’s so endearing?? also he’s probably the clingy one in the relationship JEJSJJE

@luvmojii + asahi — she braids his hair and takes him on camping trips and he’s just like :) ‘i love her :)’ so many soft vibes AND YET she’s also the one blasting mother mother and he’ll always give her back the exact same energy every single time, he feels at comfort with her.

@planetoru + bokuto — ENERGY BOUNCING OFF THE WALLS, they both replicate enthusiasm so much. em is there if bokuto is ever feeling down and vice versa. also i feel like they would have good communication skills so not too many fights as well? yeah :) they’re the super fun couple !!

@prince-kags + midoriya — chaos nerds. they would geek over so many things together and always hear each other’s rambles out. also both are so scarily smart and hardworking so they both work theirselves to the bone, but nag the other to take care of their self and that’s just. how they end up surviving. because the other keeps getting them to care of themselves despite it all.

@avis-writeshq + denki/nishinoya — once again, THEY ARE THE HYPE COUPLEEE !! they’re fun, chill, and you just wanna hang out with them. noya saw you around the school once and he was like i am in love <3 no one perceive me <3 AND JUST HH SO CUTE <3

@artof-apollo + kirishima — WHOLESOME VIBES ALL AROUND IM TELLING YOU !! he spams your with as many heart memes as he can find and is always there for you no matter what. he always confides his thoughts and insecurities to you and you guys are just. a good healthy couple <3 also definitely has workout dates LMAO

@aelbedo + lev — YELLS WHAT DID I SAYYY, he just loves you so much <3 he would think you’re intimidated by him bc you’re quiet around him at first but he thinks you’re so pretty so he’s like ヽ( `д´*)ノ I MUST CONVINCE THEM I AM FRIENDLY and so he tries his very hardest and he’s oh so clumsy around you, but from then you hit off <3 also definitely listens to you ramble about video games even if he has no clue what’s going on

@nicira + itadori — MIRA IS DOTES ON HIM SMMM and he’s just so cheesy and loves her so much? like you can tell he loves her so much because she’s all he talks about. probably gave sukuna every living detail about her too. they’re both just super in love w each other <3

@m1s0-s0up + hawks — YELLS CHAOS ONCE MORE, they wreak havoc but they still care about each other sm. he absolutely spoils her and is just like ‘mm yeah that’s my rumi’ all smug n stuff >:)

@mattsunbae + atsumu — dude these two probably roast the shit out of people together JSJSJWJ #GiveOsamuABreak2K21, before atsumu does a serve he always looks in the crowd to find her and do his dorky hand fist thingy, they’re like the best friend couple yk yk

@weebybermuda + ushijima — 100% he will listen to anything bermuda talks about bc this mf is so whipped. literally so in luv w her and even though he always looks like 😐 inside hes just ‘aAAHHHhaauiHHJ SHE <3’ also he probably talks about her to tendou all the time JSJDJSN

@tomuswrld + jirou — she teaches him how to play the guitar, OOHH SHE PROBABLY WROTE A (few) SONGS ABOUT SPIRIT BUT IS STILL SHY ABT IT N ALL ! they’re like ‘indie’ couples you see on pinterest and you’re like ‘hahaha so cute 🥰 *blocks*’

@yuujisbby + denki — theyre so chill and just <3 all around great vibes omg, denki would definitely just go around bragging that he had sasha as a girlfriend and be like yeah that’s my s/o >:))

@bukojuiice + todoroki — the puts her emotions on a sleeve and doesn’t express his emotions pair. julie is like his soft cottagecore gf and you can visibly see the softness and care shoto holds for her.

@lovelytarou + inumaki — if you can’t find one of them chances are they’re with the other. they’re always just near each other, and inumaki always has a hand on her. since he can’t talk, he always displays his affection with light touches to show that he loves franz dearly :)

@ch0s0 + choso — they give pinterest couple vibes tbh, theyre super casual and just fun to be with all around tbh, he definitely makes playlists for her because that’s the best way he can show his affection without saying it and goes out of his way to get her embroidery supplies even if he ends up getting the wrong things AJSJJS

@pockydays + kuroo — mmm they fit each other so well. kuroo definitely has heart eyes for her, and silla is just like tossing him bad puns and he’s giving her those bad science puns JSJSSJ and they’re just perfect for each other?? they’re always teasing each other as well LMAO

@denji-core + yamaguchi — they understand each other so well! they probably met during class, maybe they were passing notes to each other and just instantly hit it off. it took them a while to actually get together, but once they were they were always with each other. comfort couple <3

#— letters ✉️#— anon.#i am so sorry i cannot think i don’t think these made sense HSJDJE

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monellabella · 4 years ago

Text

In honor of my favorite boys’ birthday, I thought I’d share a little preview of the fic (would I even call it that??? Idk) I’d started writing for @amourtentiaa‘s sleepover bash. Enjoy!!

Fight or Flight

Fred Weasley x Fem!reader

Warnings: cursing, alcohol/drinking mention (really short), food mention

Tagging some moots just because: @krasivayadarling @wonderfilworld @fictionalwhores @amixedwitch @rorybutnotgilmore @ronbrokemyheart @mullthingsoverinthehotwater @mitsukui @pineapplesandpinas @darthwheezely

Well, fight or flight I'd rather die Than have to cry in front of you Fight or flight I'd rather lie Than tell you, I'm in love with you

Fred and y/n hated each other when they first met.

He thought she was just a boring little teacher’s pet and a pompous know-it-all who didn’t know how to take a joke.

She thought he was an immature, lazy, conceited asshole who played horrible, unfunny pranks on innocent people.

The fact that in every class he hardly paid attention only to get perfect marks, while she was studying her ASS OFF to get the same grade, PISSED. HER. OFF.

“It’s completely unfair!” y/n explained to Angelina, “I’ve never ONCE seen him pay attention. He doesn’t even look at the blackboard!” Angelina hummed in acknowledgment as she continued to doodle on one of her textbooks. She was used to y/n’s daily “I hate Fred Weasley” rants and tended to just tune her out and let her rant as she acted as emotional support. “Are you even listening?” y/n asked. “Hm? What?” Angelina replied, breaking out of her trance.

Y/n didn’t like George very much either; admittedly, he was the more level-headed of the two, but he was still just as much of a good-for-nothing troublemaker as his twin.

Y/n and Fred were CONSTANTLY competing in EVERYTHING.

Bragging whenever they got a higher mark and reminding the other every chance they got for the rest of the day.

Not letting the other hear the end of it when their team won a quidditch game- Fred supported Ireland’s Ballycastle Bats, while y/n rooted for Scotland’s (far superior) Montrose Magpies.

They’d get into drinking games at parties- taking shot after shot until their friends had to drag them away before one of them died of alcohol poisoning.

When Fred had mentioned gobstones to her, he refused to explain the rules- so y/n quickly ended up with the marble’s putrid liquid being sprayed in her eyes. George later explained the rules to her, and after a bit of practice, she managed to hustle Fred out of the bag of sweets he’d just bought at Hogsmeade.

Y/n had been the one to smugly introduce Fred to various muggle card games. She played a lot with her friends for fun, but with Fred the stakes were always raised. Once in a game of blackjack, y/n was on a winning streak and Angelina had to stop her from betting away the £200 she’d gotten as a birthday present.

They were constantly bickering. Always about stupid things, too. Like, she’d give the wrong answer in class, Fred would say something smug about it, and they’d go on insulting each other until someone told them to stop. Fred bumps into y/n in the hall? they stand there for a good few minutes hurling insults at each other until y/n is dragged along by Angelina. Fred messes up y/n’s potion? Bickering. Y/n takes the last piece of toast at breakfast? Bickering. The list goes on.

They’d play a lot of chess (both the muggle and wizard versions). When they played the wizard version, it usually gathered a small crowd as they’d both get extremely competitive and pelt each other with both various insults and broken chess pieces, it would usually end in a screaming match as they kept insisting that the other somehow cheated. But when they played the muggle version, they weren’t quite as excitable. They wouldn’t tell anyone when they’d go and play, and it was usually somewhere they wouldn’t be bothered (the common room late at night or sometimes even the library).

With muggle chess, they were quiet and calculating. Fred was always so bursting with energy, that sometimes it would overwhelm him. Chess was one of the few things that could calm him down. It was the type of thing that allowed him to concentrate deeply without feeling for a moment like he had to think about anything else. Y/n just enjoyed the game. She loved how despite its simplicity, there were infinite ways a game could go.

They’d usually end up playing when they noticed the other had had a rough day, and one would suggest a game of chess. Sometimes they’d ask what was wrong, and it would either be the simple answer of “I don’t wanna talk about it.” so they’d play in silence. But other times, they’s go on to explain what happened while the other listened. Either way, neither of them seemed to look up from the board the entire time. Sometimes they’d play late into the night when everyone else was asleep. When they’d sneak back into their respective dormitories, if anyone asked, they’d come up with some sort of excuse as to where they’d been.

Playing muggle chess against y/n was probably the only time Fred couldn’t care less whether he won or lost; he’d never admit it, but when they weren’t biting each others’ heads off, he quite enjoyed her company. And while she’d rather die than say it to him, y/n felt the same way.

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eremiie · 4 years ago

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do you realize how much damage you're doing to other minors saying you're "special" to nsfw blogs lmao not like being "special" is a term groomers use

.... okay let’s talk about this

first you know what the crazy thing is? nowhere did i say i was special— i said i was an exception when it comes to some blogs because that’s literally my case; not that i’m “special”, when you put it in those terms that doesn’t sound pleasing to the ears lmao

there’s some factors that play into me being able to interact with certain blogs, it’s not solely because i am a minor and i’m “special”, so let’s go over them shall we?

first let’s talk about the fact that some mutuals i do interact with know me personally, for example take @murmikaa ; we facetime, text all the time, and we’re both writers, she knows me personally and i know her, so she feels comfortable enough for me to be on her blog— compare me to some random ass minor that happens to be on her blog... see the difference? bc if you don’t idk what to tell you friend

in knowing me personally they know how mature i am, they know what i can handle and they know what i can’t— and regarding that let’s not fail to mention the fact that i write smut myself (and i’m damn good at it if i do say so myself), i write content in general, which a lot of minors don’t do, so it’s kind of like a writer to writer heart to heart kind of thing if you want to put it that way

there are many of my mutuals that i don’t interact with their nsfw content because they are 18+ blogs and i don’t know them personally so i’m not gonna bend their rules and make myself an exception and— let me use your word real quick— make myself special, because in their lives, i’m not special! just another blog!

there are many blogs that are strictly 18+ and like my content but i don’t follow them back because guess what? they are strictly 18+ and guess what i do? follow that rule because i’m not nobody to them, unless they wanna make me somebody

you ever had an older cousin let you hang out with them and their friends because thats your cousin, they know you, and y’all are cool like that? think of it like that if my explanation was too hard for you to understand

also, if you search up the definition of grooming;

“Grooming is when someone builds a relationship, trust and emotional connection with a child or young person so they can manipulate, exploit and abuse them. Children and young people who are groomed can be sexually abused, exploited or trafficked.”

.......... if we’re reading the same thing, i don’t believe i’m being groomed, especially when i’m not that far apart in age for most of my moots that let me interact with their nsfw content lmao

and for the moots that do if you’re trying to groom me pls lmk rn😔

anyways have a lovely day

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chaoticpete · 4 years ago

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One Year Writing Celebration

Hi! So I am so excited that it has been about one year since I joined this amazing community and started writing for all of you amazing, special people!

So far I have met nothing but kind and amazing people in this community and honestly you guys made my 2020 all that more tolerable. So I would love to have the chance and make some more amazing moots and read what you wanna write!

I decided to have a writing celebration! And the best part? It doesn't even have to be anyone from Marvel, I just wanna read more amazing people's works!

Below I shall provide some prompts, tropes, whatever you would like to pick. I’m so excited and I hope you guys have as much fun as I will with this and I hope you can participate!

Rules:

*Please send me an ask if you’re interested in joining. Make sure to include which topic you would like and what person you will write for.

*Tag me when you finish and post (if you don’t hear from me please feel free to message...Tumblr is very wonky)

*OC’s are welcomed

*M o s t ships are welcomed...most. (If you know it’ll make people uncomfortable...please don’t write it. In fact, I’ll probably tell you.)

*Two things per person

*Please pick a prompt or trope from the list. If you prefer to write your own idea that’s okay but just please tell me when telling me who you would like to write for and what so I can add it.

*Smut/ Dark fics are fine but please NO underage characters. If there’s any like dub-con, non-con or just anything that you feel will make others uncomfortable please tag properly! (If not I won’t post)

*Please make sure to tag me and use to tag #ChaoticPete1year so it’s easier for me to find and when I post it on my library 💖

*If there is a line through the prompt, it means two people are already doing that one.

*Just have fun!

Ending date is July 23rd, 2021!

Prompts:

*First date

*First dance

*Bodyswap

*Haunted

*Magic

*De-ageing

*Merpeople

*Supernatural AU

*Alternate Universe

*Barista/Coffee Shop

*Punk AU

*Royalty AU ( @kitkatd7 w/ Bucky or Loki)

*Historical AU

*Arranged Marriage ( @cocoamoonmalfoy w/ Peter Parker)

Highschool/college AU

Tropes:

*Enemies to lovers

*Friends to lovers

*Enemies to friends to lovers

*Childhood sweethearts

*Mutual pining

*Requited love

*Unrequited love

Dialogue Prompts:

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?” “...what are you on? But yes. Yes, I would.”

“Babe! I can’t find the dog.” “We don’t have a dog?” “...surprise?” ( @cocoamoonmalfoy w/ Peter Parker)

“Do you ever look at someone and wonder “why are they like this?.” “Yeah, you all the time” ( @spideyspeaches w/ Peter Parker)

“Well, that’s one thing off my bucket list.” “Who has something like this on their bucket list?!” ( @buckys-other-punk w/ Peter Parker) ( @theofficialzivadavid w/ Tony Stark)

“What are you thinking about?” “How to take over the world.”

“You’re one insult away from starting a war.” ( @kitkatd7 w/ Bucky or Loki)

“Now if you excuse me, I have a scene to go make.”

“Oh no.” “What happened? Is everything okay?” “I think I just felt...an emotion.” “You have got to be fu-”

“Pleaseee. I’ll do anything.” “Even a kiss?” “Okay, maybe not anything.”

“Hang on. Where’s (person’s name).”

“I don’t...exactly hate you I guess.”

“So, you broke my favorite mug...and you’re breaking up with me?”

“Not everyone could be born with brains and beauty...just be happy you have one of them.”

“Wait...wanna run that by me again?”

“Dude. We talked about this. Boundaries!”

“In what universe is this ever okay?!” ( @cocoamoonmalfoy w/ Peter Parker)

“Wait...that’s what that means?”

Tagging any of my writing babes who I think might be interested...and if not, that’s okay🥺

@tommyunderoos @allegra-writes @cherry-hyejin @spideyspeaches @cocoamoonmalfoy @ambivalent-anarchy @kitkatd7 @buckys-other-punk

...I need to annoy more writing moots omg 😭

#tom holland #marvel #x reader #peter parker #peter parker x reader #spiderman #peter x reader #tom holland spiderman #mcu peter parker #avengers #marvel fanfiction #fanfic celebration #fandom fanfiction #tom holland fanfiction #music fanfiction #movie fanfiction #fan fics writing #chaoticpete1year #writing celebration

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greyhavensking · 4 years ago

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100 Followers Celebration!

God, I’m late with this, but I finally passed the 100 follower milestone and I wanted to do something for it to show my appreciation. That something turned out to be almost 3000 words of emotional hurt/comfort and dumb boys in love, so I hope someone enjoys it.

I can’t even express how grateful I am to have (over!!!) 100 people think I’m worthy of following when mostly I just reblog other people’s posts and scream in the tags, but this is me trying to get the point across. Thank you, thank you, thank you to the people who continue to tolerate my bullshit and occasionally encourage my sad stucky edits and my angsty fluff fanfics. You’re all amazing and wonderful people!

Also cross-posted on Ao3 here.

you left your mark on me like footprints in the snow

“Buck, you awake?”

It’s sort of a moot point, seeing as Bucky — light sleeper that he is — would have woken up the second Steve stepped across the threshold of the living room, but he feels compelled to ask nonetheless. His ma was a stickler for courtesy, especially when it didn’t cost anyone a dime, and while he can’t quite manage to defer to politeness when it comes to aggravating superiors, it comes easy as breathing with most everyone else.

Bucky isn’t everyone else, and half the time Steve doesn’t bother filtering himself around him, but tonight—

Tonight’s a bad night.

But it’s not Bucky’s night for a change.

As Steve pauses at the back of the couch, arms crossed and head ducked, he sees Bucky smoothly push himself up into a sitting position from where he was stretched across the cushions, rolling his shoulders back as he scrubs his flesh and blood hand over his face. He was awake, judging by the dog-eared book he lets slide to the floor; Steve can’t make out the cover from this angle, but he’d bet anything it’s one of those YA novels Sam recommended to him that he refuses to thank Sam for. Something about Greek gods and terribly unlucky teenagers. Steve doesn’t go for fantasy often, but he knows Bucky’s been plowing through the series for the last few weeks.

“I’m always awake,” Bucky says once he’s gotten a good look at Steve, despite Steve’s best efforts to tuck all the visible hurt away behind an admittedly shaky smile. He’s joking, mostly — when Bucky first came home, he rarely got more than an hour or two of sleep before some imagined threat had him prowling the confines of the apartment, checking and rechecking the locks and the security system. Nowadays his sleepless nights are still disturbingly frequent, but not every night, and he can usually pass them by reading or watching whatever he finds most interesting on TV.

Bucky quirks a brow when Steve remains silent, tilting his head. Assessing. “You, though,” he continues as if he hadn’t paused at all, “you should be dead to the world, Rogers. Sawing logs, or whatever it is they say when you snore louder than a damn foghorn.”

“I don’t — I don’t snore,” Steve bites out, reflexive, which just gets Bucky’s other brow jumping up to join the first.

“So it’s one of those nights, huh.” Bucky nods to himself, twisting around on the couch to lean back against the armrest, legs spread invitingly. He pats the space between his thighs. “Good thing I’m a certified Steve Rogers expert and know exactly what you need.”

Steve considers refuting that claim, but he can’t bring himself to bother with it. A flare of indignation does pulse under his skin (he hates the idea that he needs to be managed), though it peters out just as quickly as it came, taking with it the last shred of warmth Steve’s been clinging to since he slipped out from beneath his bed covers. Bucky’s right, anyway; this is what Steve needs, something they’ve pieced together in the months after Bucky felt safe enough to put himself back into Steve’s orbit.

Rubbing briskly at his upper arms, more for something to do with his hands than any hope of warming himself up, Steve hesitates another moment before he sighs and climbs over the back of the couch to crawl in between Bucky’s legs. Bucky wraps his arms around Steve’s waist instantly, tugging him until his back is flush with Bucky’s chest. He noses at the nape of Steve’s neck, presses a kiss there that has a delightful shiver rippling down Steve’s spine, then wedges his chin into the space between neck and shoulder.

“What’s the threat level with this one?” Bucky asks quietly. Threat level is their established short-hand for how bad a nightmare was, what kind of toll it took on them. It’s easier getting that out than something like I woke up crying reaching for you can’t get my heart to calm down can’t breathe woke up alone and had to bite back a scream, and Steve can admit that Bucky’s nothing short of a goddamn genius for giving Steve a way to explain without explaining.

“‘Bout a seven,” Steve says, which means it’s closer to a nine than he’d like. He can still feel the phantom chill of wind and snow on his face, the ice-clogged water in his lungs, arms outstretched but grasping at nothing nothing nothing. Bucky’s face, frozen over and glassy-eyed. No air, no breath, no life in either of them — but Steve, undead, trapped below the ice, forced to watch it all play out on repeat—

“Uh-huh. Seven. Sure, I’ll go with that for now.” Bucky’s voice is right against his ear, his breath warm, the solid weight of him so very real that Steve shudders again, leaning into him even though there’s hardly space left between them to close. “You need me to do anything extra special?”

Steve shakes his head, then pauses, reconsiders. “Keep talking?”

His nightmares are — strange. They’re quiet, mostly, unless they involve the train, and then it’s the clack-clack-clack of the tracks, the high-pitched whistling of the wind, his own desperate screams. But when it’s the ice… it’s almost silent. Like an old film, the reels spinning on soundlessly around him. Colors are muted, too, shades of gray and blue and the occasional vibrant streak of red that could be blood, could be his suit, could be the afterimage of staring too long into a bright light.

Bucky huffs a laugh and tightens his arms around Steve, and in return Steve shifts to lay his hands over Bucky’s skin, one sliding along his forearm, the other reaching down to slip under the hem of Bucky’s shorts. He’d grab the metal arm (it doesn’t bother him, and it’s body temperature from being tucked under Bucky on the couch) but he needs skin right now, and he knows Bucky doesn’t begrudge him it.

“Talking,” Bucky murmurs. “You gotta pick the one thing I’m no good at anymore, don’t ya. No, no, don’t start,” he says, reading the tensing of Steve’s body all too well, and Steve slumps back into his hold, caught out. “I’m not sayin’ I won’t do it, and I’m not gettin’ all self-deprecating on you, either. Words are hard, sweetheart, you know that.”

“Sorry, Buck. We can just put the TV on, or—”

“I said it’s fine, Rogers. Relax. I’m not in the habit of doing things I don’t want to these days, even for you, which is a goddamn miracle considering all the shit I put up with for your benefit when we were kids. Christ.”

Steve rolls his eyes, which he knows is the exact reaction Bucky was going for. “Alright, I’ll bite. What’d I talk you into that was so bad?”

“God, Steve, Snow White? How many times d’we see that in theaters?”

“What? You loved that movie!”

“No, you loved that movie, despite being fuckin’ colorblind. I went because I’m a goddamn sap and I couldn’t get enough of the wide-eyed baby deer act you pulled every time you got to see all that animation in action. You sparkled, Steve, it was addicting.”

“What?”

“Whaddya mean, what? Can’t a guy get all sentimental over how cute his best guy looked staring adoringly at a cartoon?”

“No, I mean— you went for me? We weren’t even…”

“First of all, jackass, I don’t gotta be in love with someone to wanna see them happy. Second, I honestly can’t tell you if I realized that I was in love with you back then. It’s all mixed up with how I definitely felt during the war, and then with everything that came with thawing out here.”

Hold on—

“Bucky. Bucky. The war?”

Steve’s half-twisted around in Bucky’s arms now, staring at him, slack-jawed, because they’ve never had this conversation before. Nothing even close to this has ever come up between them. When they got together this century, they only acknowledged that they’d never considered doing so back in the thirties, that their feelings only really surfaced now because they finally had a moment to rest without the fear of discovery hanging over their heads. Bucky has never breathed a word of loving Steve at any point before that.

But Bucky doesn’t seem to understand what’s running through Steve’s head, because his brows furrow as he stares right back at Steve. “Why are you acting so surprised? You think I curled up with you every night just ‘cause I was cold?” He pauses. “I mean, alright, yes, I was freezing and you were a goddamn furnace all of a sudden, but—”

“You have never said shit about this, Barnes, what the fuck?”

And there’s Bucky rising to the challenge in Steve’s voice, lifting his chin and narrowing his eyes. Refusing to let go of Steve, though, for which he’s grateful; he needs the grounding weight of him all the more in this moment.

“I ain’t exactly proud of it, Steve. You and Carter? Fuck, you made my blood boil with her.”

Steve blinks. Blinks again, shakes his head like that’ll make Bucky’s words fall into a neat little line he can actually understand. He feels Bucky’s chest expand as he breathes in deep, feels it deflate as he lets it out in a heavy sigh. His eyes are nearly silver in this light, and so sheepish that Steve just wants to set this aside and kiss on him until he’s smiling again. But — he wants to know, fuck, he doesn’t like secrets between them anymore, and he knows Bucky’s the same way. It’s not the best time to get into this, but really, in the grand scheme of things… it’s as good a time as they’ll get.

“God, alright. I was jealous, okay? Whether or not I knew what you were to me while we were still in Brooklyn, I sure as hell knew it then when I was watching you two dance around each other for months. The way you’d stare after her, the way she tucked herself right into your side whenever you were in the same room… I was sick with it, hatin’ her and hatin’ myself for feeling that way when I didn’t have a fuckin’ claim to you. When you were happy with her and I couldn’t make myself be happy for you. You think I like admitting I couldn’t put my best friend’s happiness above my own bruised ego?”

“Buck…”

“Aw, don’t look like that, sweetheart. Was my own fault for never saying anything. And, well, for all I knew back then you were straight as an arrow. You thought you were pretty straight, as I recall. Maybe it woulda just driven a wedge between us if I’d said something.”

“Fuck that.” The words are whispered, but they get Steve’s point across just fine — it’s Bucky’s turn to blink, leaning away from Steve slightly like he needs a better look at him to process what he’s just heard. Steve just follows him, getting his knees under him so he can cup Bucky’s face in both palms, holding him close. “Fuck that. I always loved you, Bucky Barnes. Platonic, romantic, doesn’t fucking matter. If you think for one second I woulda left you over something like that—”

Bucky laughs again, a quick, sharp little thing that barely interrupts Steve’s vehement protests, but the kiss Bucky plants on his lips does the job of getting his attention.

“What a stubborn asshole you are, sweetheart.”

Scowling, Steve kisses Bucky again, harder this time but still achingly sweet. “You think I’m lyin’?”

“Do I look like an idiot? No, I don’t think you’re lying, but that’s what you’re saying now, with the glorious gift of hindsight. You can’t say for sure that’s how you would have reacted, and I wouldn’t have blamed you for it.”

“One more time, Barnes, ‘cause I do think you’re a little slow on the uptake tonight. Fuck that. You got my ass through every fuckin’ illness that so much as looked at our borough, got me through ma’s death… you think you catchin’ feelings was gonna scare me away? I was afraid of you leaving, god, I woulda clung to you forever if you let me, even if you got married, had kids, whatever. I probably wouldn’t have believed you could like me, but I wouldn’t have been mad at you over it.”

It’s quiet between them once Steve’s gotten it all out of his system, save for his heart thudding in his chest and their quickened breathing, the tick-tick-tick of the ceiling fan above them. Steve refuses to look away from Bucky’s searching gaze, and god, yes, he’s a stubborn asshole, but he’s also right! He’s right and he’s going to prove that to Bucky, one way or another, because this is too important to let go. He doesn’t want Bucky thinking even for a second that there is a scenario where Steve would throw him over for someone else. Anyone Steve loved — anyone who loved Steve — would have had to accept that Bucky came first, always.

In hindsight, Steve maybe should’ve figured out his own damn feelings long before he reached the 21st century, but that wasn’t exactly his point right now.

Steve doesn’t know how long they sit there like that, holding one another without saying a word, but he doesn’t tear his eyes away from Bucky’s for a single moment of it, willing him to understand that he’s always been Steve’s anchor, his touchstone — that absolutely nothing short of death could ever come between them, and fuck, even that didn’t stick. And he thinks Bucky might be getting there, the way a slow, tremulous smile spreads across his face, a flush high on his cheeks that does things to Steve’s heart.

“I love you.”

Steve’s eyes crinkle as he smiles, automatic, ducking his head down to press into Bucky’s neck, the fabric of his worn t-shirt soft against Steve’s cheek. It’s far from the first time either of them have said it, but Steve still gets so giddy over it, knowing he gets to have this, have Bucky, to hold and kiss and adore this man in his arms for as long as they’re both alive… it’s heady, and something Steve doesn’t want to take for granted, not even for a second. The road they took to get here was too brutal for Steve not to be damn grateful for every moment they have together.

Which means he doesn’t mind the teasing they get from the rest of the team, the not-so-sly remarks and gratuitous eye rolls that Sam and Natasha are so fond of, the downright lewd shit that gets thrown right back in Tony’s face when Bucky reminds them all that neither of them are innocent grandpas.

It’s all part of getting to love Bucky the way he deserves, the way he’s always and will always deserve, and if there’s one thing about the future that Steve unequivocally loves, it’s that he can be as open as he wants about just how much he loves Bucky. And, if people do have a problem with it, Steve can kick their asses — mostly over Twitter, but still. He’s a fan.

“Love you too, Buck.”

Bucky hums, content, and readjusts so that Steve is mostly laying flat on top of him, the both of them stretched out across the couch. He snags the blanket from where it’s half-spilled onto the floor, draping it over Steve enough that it covers the majority of their bodies. Steve snuggles in, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s back, giving him a gentle squeeze to show his appreciation.

He’s all but forgotten the phantom cold that drove him out here in the first place.

“Wanna try going back to sleep?” Bucky murmurs, rubbing circles into Steve’s back.

“Nah. You’re still gonna be here, don’t wanna sleep alone.”

“Mm, fair point. You just gonna lay here, then?”

He could, Bucky won’t protest his weight or the company. “Yeah. Right where I wanna be. You could read to me, though?”

“I’m in the middle of the book, Rogers, you won’t have any clue what’s going on.”

“Just like the sound of your voice, Buck. It’s soothing,” Steve argues, and he’s slurring his words a little, he knows, but he doesn’t care and Bucky doesn’t call him out on it. “Read to me?”

He feels the rumble of Bucky’s laughter in his own chest, pressed right up against him, then the shift of the couch as Bucky grabs his book from the floor and braces it against the dip in Steve’s spine so he can read.

And yeah, Bucky’s right — Steve couldn’t tell you a thing about what’s happening in the book right now (there are gods and monsters and quippy teenagers, but none of it settles quite right in his brain, none of it takes any recognizable shape) but he couldn’t be happier regardless.

Turns out it’s not so bad of a night after all.

#stucky #stevebucky #steve rogers #bucky barnes #stucky fanfic #fanfic #my fic

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seijch · 4 years ago

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ANNOUNCEMENT: NOT A HELLO, BUT NOT A GOODBYE EITHER

omg hi ... im like . ashamed to come back after saying brief hiatus in october and then disappearing off the face of the earth til FEBRUARY but under the cut i will be explaining myself and the following, if youre interested (and a tl;dr at the very bottom if you don’t wanna scroll thru this obnoxiously long post):

the reason(s) i was gone for so long

what i was doing during that time (its just a personal account yall can scroll past this idrc)

the status of those um . halloween requests

the future of this account

i. so . Hiatus .

i know. i know . i probably mentioned it when i made the announcement post, but my mental health likes to go on one of those rides. yknow the ones where you go like up rlly fast then down maybe and then up then DOWN .... its like that. i needed a break and every time i wanted to come back or thought about it, something would happen and i would get stuck in my own head.

a big reason for getting stuck in my head was (and i hate to admit this ... i hate to admit that i have Insecurities On The Internet) my feelings of inadequacy regarding my writing. i love to plot fics, i love concepts and characters and making little headcanons but i dont ... know if i love writing rn. and i thought for the longest time that like . whatever ill just push thru it its fine ill be fine but it kinda wasnt lmao you can kinda see it in my halloween reqs and what become of them when i get to that but i began to feel like nothing i had put out or would put out would hold up prose wise (and normally i dont feel like this im much more “idc its my life im living it” but thats not a rant for tumblr LMAO). i still feel like that -- like im better as a reader than a writer. but . You Know :-)

tl;dr: mental state go brrrrr

ii. anywhere here’s wonderwall

when i left, i was in a steadily decreasing mental and emotional state, made worse by a situation at work that really was a case of petty jealousy on my end and rlly isnt very consequential now despite how much pain and resentment it gave me when it Was a problem so i wont get into it. the tl;dr of november and december was me using work as an crutch and distraction -- i know my job, i do it well, it helped me not think about my responsibilities and obligations and inadequacies. of course, as the holiday season grew busier n busier i was scheduled so often that i moved 88 or so miles (according to my apple watch, which i ONLY wear at work since im never anywhere else outside my house) and fell into a cycle of showering n sleeping at my house before going back the next day. (theres definitely something to be said abt capitalism and “grind culture” here but once again its not the time or place snsjkdfds)

at the turn of the new year, i happened to remember a birthday card i hadnt filed away for safekeeping from a friend of mine that id been horribly out of touch with til that point. i started crying because i realized how out of touch id been in general up until that point. the month of january was great for me: i was focused, happy, and in a much better place than i had been before. the end of it brought me down focus wise and im hoping that enough time away from my distractions will refocus me bc i ... need it LMAO and though ive burned out from that level of productivity and gotten distracted again im ... trying to stay positive which i think is the most i can do 😁👍🏼

media wise, i got real into stardew valley (but burned out bc i played it extensively as a way to wind down after work), the pokemon platinum romhack renegade platinum (still havent finished it bc of school n i played it w the intent to see if i could nuzlocke it ... bitch its so hard but its so fun bc of it), briefly assassins creed: odyssey (im one of those ppl who completes an entire region before i move to the next so you can tell i burned out of that one + wouldnt have the time to properly devote to it even if i didnt), got back into genshin impact after pulling for xiao (after not touching it for like . months), and danganronpa. yes . danganronpa 😐 i Know. i stopped playing it after the second trial of the first game bc i was so hurt by the outcome and picked it up in late january only to get sucked in (thank god i had the foresight to buy the second and third games during the steam winter sale). rn im at the start of chapter 4 if anyone wants to come in my asks and um . talk to me abt danganronpa

tl;dr: I’m Into Danganronpa Now

iii. you realize halloween was three months ago right

i mentioned this in the first section, but i love to plot things. every request is plotted or at least has a solid foundation. i had fun detailing what concept i wanted to go with considering what i was given, and there were some bangers i might touch up in the future. but heres whats going to happen to the requests themselves:

there are two finished requests. one will be posted tomorrow and the other will be touched up (just bc i finished it doesnt mean its good 🧍‍♂️) and scheduled for next saturday. as for the ones i never got around to ...

i will not be finishing those requests. i hate to be That Person, but i feel like we all expected this 🧍‍♂️ what i will do is post all of my notes for each request in batches -- requests that have an @ to go with them will be mentioned in the post proper, but anon asks will be pictured. (there are some asks that came from blogs who are now deactivated but i wrote down all the prompts and remember most of those askers so ill cross that bridge when i get there) there will most likely be an excerpt or two simply bc i think i mightve written a few plot points or interactions in the form of bullet points. i rlly am sorry about doing this but i remember looking at my notion doc with all the prompts and feeling ... like i wasnt measuring up n it wasnt just to myself or to some intangible concept of “other” id constructed but it was instead to those who requested n actually WANTED to see and hear and read my writing and i ...... im gonna admit thats another big reason i avoided this site.

regardless, youll definitely get what i have (and likely more than just my bullet points and illegible handwriting).

tl;dr: im sorry. what i have in terms of plot, concept, and interaction for every request will be posted, but i cant say ill ever complete them and mean it.

iv. so what now?

well i mean . im not entirely sure how sold i am on haikyuu in the content creation department (as a creator n to a lesser extent, as a consumer). as mentioned previously, its no longer my primary focus. it doesnt mean im not into haikyuu anymore; i have a lot of love for those boys but i cant rlly say im even caught up w recent fandom activity and also havent even finished s4 pt2 LMAO thats on my to do list

and despite all that, i still want to share my plots n concepts and snippets and maybe even fics. it wont happen anytime soon. it might not even happen. but i mean . its better than me saying i wont write ever again shjdkfs but either way ill probably use this blog as a personal blog w the occasional ask game for dialogue prompts (those are always so fun i love making up aus to fit like . the most mundane prompts)

as for my works (past and any potential future), ive opened an ao3 acc here n ill be editing n possibly expanding on my old works to post there. tumblr, to me, is The x reader hub, but i figure more x reader fics on ao3 is never a bad thing.

ill be deleting/posting drafted posts to the queue since they were all meant to be queued anyway as well as (sorry again 🧍‍♂️) deleting or answering asks in the inbox. (moots if you get a notif from me saying i rbed your post from months ago ... mind your business) im very hard to get ahold of and its ... a problem. expect an overhaul of the nav n shit to reflect my new direction n also because i feel like i cant tell if my passion for carrd is shared by the majority HSDKLFS maybe its better to read my info in a normal post ykwim .......

and of course . if youve read all this n decided im no longer worth the follow, i sure as hell cant stop you. thank you for wanting to, at some point, hear what i have to say -- it means more than you think.

tl;dr: writing will be edited and reposted to ao3, this blog will be a personal blog with a hint of writing (sometimes)

the tl;dr to end all tl;drs:

im back! i wont be as active as i used to due to a lessened interest in haikyuu in general, but i have an ao3 acc now where all my past work will be edited, possibly expanded, and reposted. any future work will also find itself there. my halloween requests will be posted in batches as incomplete concepts, plots, and snippets of scenes; i wont be promising to finish any of them.

there are still fic concepts im attached to and want to finish, but i cant promise any more writing on my end. this blog will be a personal blog with maybe writing, not a writing blog with my personal thoughts all over it.

regardless if you stick around or not, its been crazy sexy cool (equal emphasis) being on haikyuu tumblr even tho i wasnt around for long ... even tho its not my main focus anymore, im still excited to see what the future might hold 🤝

love, ari 💌

#did i have an announcement tag #announcement #also regarding work hsjkdfsd the company i work for didnt give my location the opening for the full time position i wanted #my managers all agree id be promoted if we had it but we dont so i . hee .#anyway um i hope everyones doing well #some of my moots changed urls while i was away and now i have no idea who anyone is #its like when you see your familys friends and theyre like omg youre so big now! i remember when you were a baby and youre like 🧍‍♂️#and you have to play along bc apparently they remember you hskdfsd #im not very funny in this post but i figured id rather be honest considering my lengthy absence #consider this my comeback stage

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colorseeingchick · 4 years ago

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Someone say SIKE RN I-

WE HIT 100 FOLLOWERS AHHHHHHHHHH

Ok y’all already know its about to get reflective for no reason but bare with me. If you don’t wanna read the sappy stuff I understand, so just be ready for an Event announcement later today or tomorrow.

First off, I’ve realized I never really introduced myself so let’s do that briefly. Hello! My name is En, and I’m 19.

I started this blog because I’ve loved writing for a very long time, but I struggled a lot with story telling (I’m actually a poet more than anything else). But writing has always brought me so much joy and happiness in my dark and troubled times, and I just want to share that happiness with other people as well. So I thought, why not? Let’s see what happens.

Best choice I’ve made in a while honestly.

I want to start off by thanking you guys. You all probably follow me just for the fics, but I really do appreciate all of you. If you guys want to be friends or moots, please just tell me! I’m more than happy to get to know any of you, or support you in any way I can. I like to think I’m a fun person :D so we will have good times hehe.

I’ve already made a few amazing friends on here, and they’ve made my life so much better. So its appreciation time LOL

@kirislut : Meg’s my first friend on here, and single handedly made making a tumblr so worth it. I still remember the fun and goofy conversation we had our first time talking. Meg’s so easy to talk to, writes really fun and feel-good stories, and has been very supportive of me whenever I need it. It was for those reasons she also acted as my inspiration to start writing on here in the first place. I have so much love and admiration for ya, Meg. You’re the best 💕

@katsushimaa : Yssa was my first mutual! And also my first follower LMAO. She followed me and I just sat there like :O. But Yssa, since when I found her blog, has always been a ray of sunshine. The amount of constant positivity she puts out is so captivating, and it comes through in how receptive her friends are to it. Yssa is a living example of “what you give is what you get.” Any time I talk to you, Yssa, I feel so much happier. Mahal kita, Yssa ❤

@sasukelore : Freya is simultaneously the baddest bitch and the biggest troll I know on this app (I have not forgotten the Salad Fingers fanfic, babe. It still haunts me at night). In all seriousness, Freya is one of the realest people I know. When it comes to real world shit, she’s got my back. She’s so strong and has strength I do not, its so admirable. Not to mention, her fics are 👀🔥 yk what I’m saying LMAO. Freya I love you sm BB 😘

@animatedarchives : I have not been friends with Soph for long, but she’s always been super kind to me. From our first interaction, to like, literally yesterday, I’ve made some DUMB mistakes in front of Soph. But she never ridicules me for it. She’s very good about making a safe space, and is super receptive to the emotions and behaviors of the people around her. Its a superpower, I’m telling ya. Send me more food pics, okay Soph? Love ya 🥰

I’m so thankful for all these wonderful people. And if you don’t follow them already, you should check out their blogs (they’re all INSANELY talented way better than me). I’m so happy they’ve been by my side for this journey so far.

I hope you all will stick around as this journey keeps going! As I grow as a person and as a writer, and make some friends along the way. Thank you, lovelies.

#colorseeingchick milestone #CSC@100 #into the void

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tibbinswrites · 5 years ago

Note

For the prompt list, I'm gonna go with destiel, numbers #9 and/or #20 💙 and congrats on the followers!

Hiii! Thank you! And thanks so much for your request. I’ve already done #9 so I’ve done #20 for you.

I really struggled with this one, not gonna lie. I had a plan for it but I’m not super sure I managed to balance both sides of the argument and come up with a satisfying solution. Let me know what you think! All concrit is welcome.

I’ve now done prompts for: #1, #2, #4 and #16, #9, #10, #20, #33, #77, #78, #170 and #502 and I’ve got two still left to do. I’m not accepting any more at this time.

Also, if you wanna check out a fantabulous destiel anthology I’ve had the privilege to write for, our indegogo page is live here

Enjoy ^_^

20. Rules

There were rules to sharing Dean’s bed, Cas had found. Many of them. The main one, of course, was ‘Don’t tell Sam.” Followed by the next rule, ‘Don’t tell anyone’, which Cas argued made the first rule moot, seeing as Sam was part of ‘anyone’ and so didn’t need a separate rule. In fact, most of the rules Dean hurled at him were about keeping what they were doing secret, make sure he wasn’t seen sneaking into or out of Dean’s room at night, no touch lasting longer than two seconds outside of the bedroom, stay quiet unless they were alone in the bunker.

Cas didn’t like these rules, but he respected them. He kept his distance, didn’t touch Dean when he wanted to, didn’t brush their hands together when they walked side-by-side or hold him while they watched movies with Sam and Jack; he didn’t slide his arms around Dean’s waist while he stood at the stove, pressing in close, dropping kisses along the line of his neck. He wanted to do those things, wanted to stare unabashed and happy at how beautiful Dean looked in the early-morning light, wanted to lace their fingers together in line at the supermarket, wanted to hear all the glorious sounds Dean bit back while they made love.

He understood Dean’s reservations, and yet he didn’t. He didn’t resent the rules, and yet he did. Being with Dean was wonderful. Beneath the covers they would talk through their anxieties, their hopes for the future, they would always be touching, they smiled, they joked, they kissed. They discovered every inch of each other and Castiel at least fell more in love with each new piece of revealed information. But if he ever brought up the idea of telling Sam or Jack, Dean instantly clammed up and rolled away, all easy smiles vanished.

“I’m not ready,” was all he said. And really, it was all that he needed to say. Cas knew that he couldn’t force it. Dean being ready was important and Castiel vowed to wait.

But sometimes the waiting was very difficult. He didn’t want to hide his love like it was something shameful, it hurt every time he did. It hurt every time Dean acted like it was something shameful. He tried not to think about the implications, that maybe it was the fact that it was Cas that Dean was ashamed of, rather than any internal hangups about his own sexuality. It wasn’t true, he was almost certain, but there was enough room for doubt that it was a constant battle not to let it take hold.

After all, Dean had raised Sam, how could he have any doubt that he would be anything other than fully supportive of Dean’s happiness? Unless he was just pretending at happy, of course.

As the weeks passed he felt himself growing smaller. That niggling concern that perhaps he didn’t mean as much to Dean as Dean did to him kept niggling, and all his arguments for the contrary weren’t strong enough to hold up. Outside the sanctuary of his room, Dean was no different; they still fought, still talked, still went hunting together, except that Dean didn’t seek out Castiel’s company anymore, instead waiting in his room for Cas to go to him. And any affectionate touches or looks were now reserved until they were behind closed doors. The first few weeks this has been exciting, it had been something to look forward to, to sequester himself in Dean’s room where he would be met with open arms and comfort. But that meant after a disturbing hunt, or a close call while they were still in the field, or a worrying piece of news, even if it affected Dean deeply, he would pull away from Cas’ touch as though it were something dirty, avoid his eyes like Dean had used to avoid his eyes, back before Dean trusted him with his vulnerability. Holding eye contact too long was against the rules after all.

He held Dean close most nights, writhing beneath him, panting his name, pressing sweet words into his skin, or with an arm slung over Cas’ chest while he slept, Cas’ fingers threading through his hair, and yet he had never felt so far away.

Eventually, around six months after the rules had been laid out, Cas realised that he couldn’t go on like this. Perhaps he had been idealistic in what a physical relationship entailed but if this was it then Cas wasn’t sure he wanted it anymore. He missed knowing that Dean would be at his back when needed, he missed feeling secure in his place with the Winchesters, he missed being able to sit comfortably in a room with his family and not be on edge about whether he was staring too long or sitting too close, or stating an opinion that would lead to a hushed argument cutting into the only time they had to be honest. Seeing Dean naked was nice, bringing him pleasure was a worship of which he would never tire, but compared to the bond they used to share, the one that wasn’t contained within four walls and a list of rules, where the passion and trust and care between them was solid and certain, it paled to barely a watermark.

If Dean had been truly happy with how things were then Castiel might have been able to bear it, but as it was, Cas had to say something.

“Dean,” Cas said one evening, gently pushing Dean away from where he was kissing his way down Castiel’s throat. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this anymore.”

“Can’t do what?” Dean asked, barely listening as he tried to get back in close. When Cas didn’t yield though, he sat back with a frown. “What?”

Cas shifted himself to a seated position and stared at his knees. “I want to go back to not sleeping together.”

Dean just blinked at him for a few moments before he said anything. “Oh,” was all he came out with, followed by a much smaller, “how come?”

“Because I understand that you want to keep this secret,” Cas said, his throat closing around the words. He swallowed. “But I don’t, and it’s not fair to try and force that from you, so there needs to stop being a secret.”

“You’re kidding me?” Dean said, irritation flaring in his voice. “This is because I won’t tell Sam.” He scoffed loudly and got off the bed, bending to find the shirt he had tossed aside mere moments before.

“We spend more time hiding our relationship than having one,” Cas fired back, already hating how this was going. “And you know, you know that Sam won’t give a crap about your sexuality so the only factor that you have to be ashamed of is me.”

“Oh, yeah, you really got me sussed, huh?” Dean snarked, yanking the shirt down over his head as though preparing to leave, as if this wasn’t his own room. “Like you won’t leave the second that this thing becomes real.”

That struck deep. “It wasn’t…?” Cas began, the question mark hanging there like the rope that life was supposed to be. Then he cleared his throat and stood too, gathering his own clothes and pulling them on, all without looking at Dean. He would not let Dean see how much that had hurt him. “I understand. It was never real for you. That’s why it’s been so easy for you to separate. That makes sense.” The anger hit him then and he spun violently around, his eyes beginning to sting. “If you had just told me that that’s what this was I could have saved us both the trouble! I’m sick of being used, Dean. Ever since I was created I’ve been somebody’s tool. I thought it was different with you, I thought—” He squeezed his eyes shut. No, of course. Dean never loved him. Cared for him perhaps, as a friend, and wanted to explore his sexuality in a safe environment with someone convenient. That’s all this was.

“If you think I’m indulging this pity-party, you’re wrong,” Dean snapped. “You knew what you were getting into, I was upfront. It’s been six months and not a word that this isn’t working for you but all of a sudden it’s so bad that you wanna cut and run!?”

“You said you weren’t ready,” Cas reminded him. “Was I supposed to pressure you?”

“You weren’t supposed to pretend!” Dean shouted. Then he winced and lowered his voice to a hiss. “That’s how relationships work. You talk about the things going wrong so you can fix them.”

“And how do we fix this, Dean? Because I can’t contain my love for you in this room and you can’t love me anywhere else. What are we supposed to do?”

Dean hesitated at that, then he said, slowly, like he was replaying Cas’ words, “You think I don’t love you?”

“I think that our friendship has suffered since we started having sex,” Cas said bluntly. He had to be blunt or the sorrow caused by that fact would overwhelm him. “We practically avoid each other unless it involves a hunt in order to abide by your rules. I didn’t realise that the price of a relationship would be to sacrifice everything the relationship was built on. Turns out that’s not a price I’m willing to pay, you’re too important to me.”

“Yeah, I feel real important right now.” Dean snapped. He folded his arms and turned away, and Cas knew he’d hit a nerve.

“Dean—” Cas reached out to touch him on the shoulder but Dean shrugged him off. He sighed. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be what you wanted.”

“What? Happy?” Dean shot back, his voice thick with emotion. “Yeah, me too.”

He felt a pang in his chest at that.

“I love you, Dean. No matter what we call our relationship, that will always be true.”

“Whatever.”

Taking that as a firm dismissal, Cas turned to leave.

“Cas, wait.”

He stopped, his hand on the doorknob.

“I’m not scared about what Sam would think about be being with you, not really.”

Cas turned back around. Dean’s back was still to him; his shoulders were hunched over, curled in on himself. Cas longed to stride forward, gather him up and place a kiss to each of his freckles.

“Then what are you scared of?”

Dean faced him then, his eyes open and terrified. “This. You taking off again. If I told Sam then I couldn’t ever take it back. And if something happens, and they know… it’ll just make everything so much worse.” He scoffed, a wet, sad sound. “Besides, if he saw how gone I am on you… he’ll start trying to get to me to retire, to take you and just get out and make a happy, apple pie life of our own. I can’t leave him, and I’m not ready to stop hunting.”

“I’d never ask you to,” Cas said gently, a little confused.

“I know. But honestly? I’m kinda terrified of how easy it would be.” He smiled then, a soft, wistful thing. “I’ve actually been thinking about it, making plans for what comes after.” He made a self-deprecating sound “Like I get that lucky. Like I haven’t known since I was five years old that there is no after for me. I’ll die a hunter. At the end of a spell or a blade or a set of claws, that’s how I’ve always wanted it, that’s what always felt right.”

“And now?”

“Now… as long as you’re there with me, I don’t really care so much how it ends.” Dean’s eyes were on his, and they mirrored the longing that Cas himself felt, the magnetic pull that drew him in. “That’s what scares me, Cas. If I tell Sam, it’ll change the way I look at my life, I’ll start wanting something more than what my dad planned, what I was so sure was the only path I had.”

“Dean,” Cas said, reaching for him, and Dean came easily. “Since when have you ever followed a plan set out for you that wasn’t your own?”

xxx

The next morning, Dean dropped a kiss to Cas’ hair at the breakfast table, right in front of Sam, who did nothing more than roll his eyes and mutter something that sounded suspiciously like, “Finally.”

#supernatural #prompts #prompt #spn fanfic #Destiel #relationships #argument #writing #fanfiction #TibbinsWrites

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blackfemmecharacterdependency · 5 years ago

Text

07. Attack in the Pumpkin Patch

AU Grace and Simon story. Takes place in the instance that they never got on the train, but crossed paths and became friends. Installments can be standalone pieces. Word Count: 3904 Trigger Warnings for this one include: racism, classism, and violence.

Simon arrived with a satchel and a big gym bag, but Grace was still asleep. He looked at her and the way that her makeup was a little smeared on her face, but she still looked so incredibly pretty that it just didn’t make any sense. The alarm on her phone went off while he was hovering and gawking. When her eyes opened, his eyes widened. She shut off the alarm and smiled sleepily at him, “You’re just in time for my wake up photo shoot,” she announced and handed him her phone.

“Your… what?”

They spent several minutes with her posing in various positions in the gown, in bed and getting up and heading for her lavatory. She let him know when it was the last one and said that she needed him to edit them and post them to her social media with the hashtags “iwokeuplikethis,” “belleoftheball,” “beautyrestchamp” and “apexbeauty." She also got him to tag everyone who had anything to do with her look the previous night with a cutesy apology that she delivered for him to type, calling out their names through the door while she washed her face and brushed her teeth, to his annoyance in trying to spell some of these people’s names or handles. He would have complained that he didn’t work for her, but Grace probably purposefully did this right now because she knew that he wasn’t going to interfere with her getting ready today.

The way that Grace simply tossed her gown onto the floor whenever she went to get ready, how she spent far more time than reasonable on her hair and hygiene, and then went through a tedious procedure to pick the perfect outfit was a level of blatant disregard that Simon was definitely used to. He brought along figures that he needed to work on and set up his workspace at her reading bench, with a drafting table that she let him stash in her huge closet, specifically for times like this.

Simon would focus enough on his hobby that Grace's dancing around her room in a tank and boy shorts was… ignorable, while not necessarily the easiest thing in the world to turn his attention from. If I don't look, I won't stare, he'd remind himself whenever he heard her say something, sing something or do something that might elicit a glance at any other time. "Aha!" She said, grabbing her fourth attempt at a shirt selection.

If he paid attention to her, she'd milk it. If he tried to rush her, she'd slow down. Simon didn't react at all and left her to her own devices, because he had known her long enough to know that anything else would keep them in this room longer than her typical antics. "Ppbbbbbbrrrrrrrrr!" She sputtered, looking in the full body mirror. Simon glanced up and winced, immediately regretting doing so, because not only was she still not dressed, she noticed him in the reflection and smiled. He put his head back down and began vigorously painting his figure. "Simon," she called, "You're doing okay waiting, right?"

"I am," he lied, but this time not looking up.

"Good. Because I think that none of this is working for me. It's chilly outside and I need a new fall wardrobe," she whined. "I should have gone shopping specifically for a pumpkin patch date outfit." Simon looked up at the mention of the word "date," but she had gone back into the closet and came out with an armful of clothes.

"That's it!" He said. He set his figures down to dry, slid from his seat and grabbed his new skateboard (same skateboard he stole the previous night, but now it was officially his). "We go to the pumpkin patch every year. It's not some kind of new event and I'm not waiting all day for you and missing out on stuff because you wanna be the fashionista of the pumpkin patch this year!"

She rolled her eyes and slowly sorted through the clothes. Simon paced for a moment, then he sat back down, like she knew he would. Go by himself? Somewhere that other people would be? Simon wasn't doing that. He hated other people. And doing stuff like this wasn't fun by himself - only with her. He fumed and asked, "Could you please hurry up?"

"I'm going as fast as fashion greatness will allow! Don't you WANT me to look good?"

Simon blushed and groaned, "I don't care how you look!"

"The cuter I am, the more free stuff they give us," she reminded him.

"I get free stuff all the time and I never have to be ‘cute’ to get it," he complained.

"Noted… but, I don't feel like robbing farmers and stuff. They're nice, good people just trying to sell their wares. Now, if they GIVE me their delicious treats, that's another story. A story that starts with how cute I am. Which one?" She asked about two sweaters. Simon looked between the two, selected one and she set it down to put on the other. Joke's on her. I picked the one I didn't like as much. I know exactly how she is. Which was moot because she looked good in anything.

It hugged her curves and fell just to her thighs and she gave herself a nod before grabbing her leggings. Simon sat by the window and looked out of it. Her locs were down again and she slid a tam hat over them and purposefully set the number of locs she wanted to hang out.

Nobody had brought up last night's kiss. He was awake all night thinking about it and what she meant by it. He’d stayed in the shower until the water was freezing, he’d laid down and stared at the ceiling, asking Samantha everything that he needed to know, “Was she just caught up in a moment? Does she actually like me? If she likes me, would she even really ever date me?...” Samantha eventually left him and he just thought more questions, vowing that the cat was a traitor that always left him whenever he needed her. She ran past his door and he jumped up. She ran the other way and he rolled his eyes and laid back down. Cats were weird… Like that kiss from Grace. Because, that was weird, right? They weren’t… like that. They were friends. The best of friends, but… friends, yeah?

He would ask her, but they didn't need to elongate her preparation time. He'd ask her at the pumpkin patch. Maybe over some pie and cider…

"All set!" She announced. “I look good, right?” He begrudgingly nodded. “Totally worth the wait!” She added. Now, he just threw her a look of disbelief and she smiled at him, already convinced that her look was worth the wait, whether or not he agreed. It wasn’t like they’d be late. He always arrived much too early to everywhere, including her place when she had to get ready.

Grace's driver dropped them off at the entrance and Grace let him know where and when to get her, many hours later and many miles away. She was on her third driver since her hair incident and this one she knew wouldn't last long, because he bothered her parents too much. The last one didn't touch base enough. The one before that didn't like Simon. She couldn't remember these days how she got rid of him, but not liking Simon was indeed a deal breaker for her. What if he’d told her parents about Simon? What if he’d said something that would prompt them to forbid her to see him? She didn’t think the guy would, but if he might, he had to go.

Whenever they went through the patch, she noted that Simon seemed deep in thought. "Dude, if you're thinking about student council or the cub scouts or something nerdy or pretentious, like war reenactment or your engineering grade; I'm un-dating you today."

He furrowed his eyebrows. "We were cub scouts as little kids. It's just called a scout, now."

"That's all he heard," she said, shaking her head.

"I heard you," he said, rolling his eyes. "Addressing it seemed non-essential. All you did was make a list and throw it at me. You're not leaving me at the pumpkin patch. We do the pumpkin patch every year."

"You're just really not gonna tell me what's on your mind, then."

He opened his mouth, shut it, tilted his head in thought and said, "Last night."

"Last night? Last night was amazing! How can you think about last night and make this face?" She imitated his face but totally exaggerated it to be far more sullen than he knew he looked. He was troubled, but not like THAT. "This is the face I make when I think about last night." She smiled as big as she could smile and pointed to her smile with both of her thumbs. He couldn’t help but to laugh. “You’ve got it, now.”

He stopped laughing and sighed, back to his broody self. “Simon, listen to me. As far as the time we spent together, as far as I’m concerned, last night was THE BEST NIGHT that we’ve ever had!” He nodded his head in agreement. “So, don’t stress yourself out. Be thankful that what started as a really crappy night, thanks to Mom, ended on such a high note!” He blushed.

A high note. They ended the night kissing. It was small, but there was no such thing as a small kiss as a teenager with precisely one friend. She tucked her arm into his. This wasn’t necessarily new, but it felt so different to him now. It felt more romantic. It felt more emotional. He looked at Grace’s smiling face and she looked exactly the same as she always had, but she somehow looked totally different, like he was looking at her with somebody else’s eyes now… somebody in love with her and not just loving her as a friend. Oh God! Was he… in LOVE with Grace? Was that why he was so preoccupied with what that kiss meant? He’d presumed he just wanted clarity of her intentions, as to not taint the friendship or make things incomprehensible, but… He was feeling love feelings!

Within moments, she broke the physical connection and he immediately craved it, but she was rushing towards the line for a hayride, doing a jazz run and chanting, “HAYRIDE, HAYRIDE!” with her fist in the air. He laughed and followed, just running like a regular person, not some kind of pumpkin patch fairy, but also cheering, “HAYRIDE, HAYRIDE!”

Later on, she got a phone call, while she was trying to stuff a handful of popcorn into Simon’s mouth, despite him playfully shoving her away. They both knew he wanted to eat out of her hand. She placed a single finger up to indicate “wait,” tossed the popcorn at his face and only a few pieces went in, while the rest slapped various parts of him. He dusted himself off while she looked at the phone, hesitant. He was going to ask who it was, but she answered, “Hi, Mom?”

She listened for a moment, then her charming voice kicked in, explaining, “Sorry about the gown, I went to this exclusive after party with the best of company and… Oh! Of course you don’t care… Sorry I. Yes mother. Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. Oh?” She was listening for a little while longer, then said, “Well, I have plans with Sim… uh… some friend…” Simon heard it and instantly turned red, staring at the ground with a dejected glare. “Yes, of course, I’ll be there. Yes. Thank you. I appreciate everything that you do for me.” She hung up and put her phone away, instantly noticing Simon’s change in mood.

“After meeting her, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that that’s the way that you sign off of a phone call with her,” he said, shoving the bag of popcorn her way.

“So, good news!” She cheered, not addressing his comment, but accepting the bag of popcorn.

He looked up and she just KNEW, he was not about to let this go easily. She tried to graze over it anyway. “My mom was just setting up this video chat interview for me for later on…" He raised an eyebrow. "Apparently someone contacted her about the pics you posted this morning, and I just might become a brand ambassador for this holistic health and beauty company to tap into the teen market!" She was extremely excited for a moment, then her excitement died. "But that's stupid. It's skin and hair and makeup and fashion… Like, I'm a dancer? I'm a musician…" his face hadn't changed. "Sorry about the uh, the other thing. It's just… I mean, you've met her now. You can see how she'll act towards you…"

"So, I'm supposed to not feel it whenever you throw me under the bus to save face in front of your mom?"

"I mean… she's not important, to us, Simon. How I have to communicate with her is fake. You shouldn’t feel it. Don't worry about it." She flicked his little ponytail with her fingertips and watched him blush, but he was still glaring at her. She handed the bag of popcorn to some kid passing, and reached under Simon’s hoodie.

“What are you?...” He didn’t get to finish asking, and his widened eyes shut, though he was just as red from her reaching under as he was from her tickling him. “STOP! THAT’S NOT FUNNY, GRAAAAAYYYYEEECE!” She stopped and he fumed for a quick second, then rushed at her and began to tickle her back. She tried to jump over a pumpkin to begin running but he caught her mid jump and declared, “Tickle fight!” She squealed and laughed and fell back onto him and they both crashed to the ground. He groaned and she continued laughing.

“Are you okay?”

“She asked, after laughing very vigorously at my pain.” She got up and held a hand out to help him up. He rubbed his back. “Who’d have thought that a tickle fight could get so rough?” They laughed and continued.

Even later still, Simon was in line for pie, Grace was going to get the hot cider, and they were gonna meet up to have their picnic before selecting pumpkins. She went along, humming to herself and lightly dancing towards the line whenever she bumped into someone. “My bad,” she said, with a smile.

“Is that supposed to be an apology?” He asked, roughly. She glanced around, noting that Simon was out of eye shot, and decided not to escalate, because of it. It was a big guy, older than her. She’d venture to say this was actually a grown man by his features, and he looked like two things - like one of those dudes that flew a Confederate flag from his truck, and also like he had a gun on him.

“I apologize,” she said through smiling teeth. She turned to leave and he mumbled a word at her. She still heard him clearly. Her eyes stung and she turned to glare at him, but he simply gave her a daring smirk until she left.

Shaken up and angry, she got into the line and ordered drinks and a cup holder. She traveled back over to meet Simon, who was setting down stuff for a little picnic, but she shook her head and reached into the bag for her mask. He became alert almost immediately as she took off her sweater. “What happened?” he wondered. This was the pumpkin patch. They kind of were known here and the way that she looked, her mask wasn’t going to hide her identity today. She shook her head, angry and ready to fight as she put the mask on and picked up two of the four ciders.

Simon had just realized that there were four ciders. She had her mask… those two ciders were weapons in her hands “Grace, your interview!” She was breathing hard when she stopped and looked at him. "Don't let someone take that away from you." He walked over to her slowly, removed the mask and took the ciders. “Tell me what happened.”

Breathing hard, she repeated the story for him and he nodded his head. She could tell that he was livid, even though he seemed to be keeping his cool. She got back into her sweater, now that she wasn’t fuming, the undershirt was nothing for this wind. “Where is he?” Simon wondered, with eyes darting around the area. She described the guy, but she didn’t see him around or anything. They sat in silence. She didn’t seem hungry anymore and Simon couldn’t enjoy himself with her like this. “Wanna go?” He asked.

“I’m Grace Monroe,” she said. “I mean… He was some null who probably barely scrapes by for a living, and he calls ME the N word?” She shook her head, “I’ve gotta get away from here. I don’t even feel comfortable here right now.” Simon nodded and packed up his bag. He handed her a leftover cider and she accepted it, but wasn’t drinking it.

He couldn’t ask her more about the kiss and he felt kinda bad that he was even thinking about that while she was going through… something. He couldn’t really tell what she was going through. He only understood this experience in passing and from reading about it. It wasn’t really something applicable to his life, but he was guessing from her reaction that she had not had the experience herself, or she just didn’t often and it shocked her system or something. If she had ever been called that before, she'd never told him about it. She was really… upset. He hated how much. He knew that she would feel weak for it. It hurt him to watch.

They walked for a little bit longer, heading towards the exit when she stopped and narrowed her eyes. Simon looked at somebody who fit the description of the person she described earlier. He was larger than she made him seem, and he just looked extremely mean and probably violent.

Simon passed her up, slid the cider out of her hand and beat her to the punch… or rather, the splash. Simon was so quick the man didn't know he was coming at him until the cider was in his eyes. Dude went down. Simon swung his skateboard at him and hit him with it. Grace looked around, making sure nobody saw him and picked up the bag that Simon dropped.

Nobody seemed to notice them yet, but the guy was screaming, although, she was sure that the cider had cooled down a lot, maybe it was Simon cracking his head with that skateboard. Simon slammed the butt of it into his throat and he started coughing and gagging, but he wasn’t screaming anymore. “We gotta go, Gray Eyes,” she said. Simon nodded once, reached for her hand and she took his, smiling triumphantly as they took off running. They made it far enough away to feel okay pausing and she laughed. “Oh my god, I know you like SERIOUSLY hurt that guy!”

Simon held out his hand, smiling, “And I got you a gift.” It was a lighter. He put it in her hand and closed her hand around it.

"Are you alright though?" She wondered, not smiling now. Simon had been vicious. She had definitely seen him mad before, but this was the most aggressive that she could remember him being and she wondered if… if it wasn't something else.

“I’m never gonna let anybody get away with making you feel bad like that. I've never seen you so upset and helpless. It was like he'd taken your power, and I had to be the one to get it back. You have too much going for you. If somebody noticed you... I don’t know what I’d do if you got into trouble.” It was partially that, partially he felt protective and possessive of her, partially he wanted her to look at him exactly the way she was right now… like he was her king.

“You’re the best friend that anybody could have… You… I’m gonna bring you home to my mom and dad. I’m gonna present you and I’m gonna DEMAND that they treat you with kindness and respect.”

He held out his hand for hers again and she took it, and leaned in closely to him. “I don’t… know if… I want to be your friend…” Simon said.

She frowned and nodded her head. “I definitely get that feeling… But… I think we should. I mean… I think we work really well like we are, and that we shouldn’t mess that up. People turn into boyfriend and girlfriend, then when something bad happens, they hate each other. I can’t have my one person hate me. That would hurt me more than getting caught burning some null.”

His face went through a range of emotions that she wasn’t looking at. She was avoiding seeing his face at the moment. “Are you sure it’s just that?”

“What do you mean?” She asked and stopped walking.

“The way you talked about that racist null… Like he should’ve known better because you’re rich and he’s not. It's the way that the rich kids at the academy talk about me."

“Oh.” She shook her head, “Whenever I say stuff like that, I don’t mean YOU, ever. You were right when you said you deserve to be one of the elites. It’s not your fault that your parents don’t have as much as some of ours, just like there’s nothing I’ve done to deserve it. But, you should know that whatever is mine, anything that I have power over is yours, too, Simon. Anything that I get, I split with you, always. You’re my other half.” She intertwined their fingers and he squeezed them together. He smiled at their hands, but her face suddenly changed to one of... contempt.

She knew that something was bothering him at school, but every time she asked him about it, he’d tell her that everything was fine and that he was glad that she was happy. She should have known that people where being mean to him. They were all just fancily built nulls, flagrantly trying to assert their dominance. Well, not over her Simon. Not on her watch. “Why aren’t we RUNNING the Academy, by now?” She asked him, flustered with thoughts of the past few months being hard on him and her... not even noticing...

“Because you’ve been playing nice and being everyone’s friend instead of showing them who you are and using them like stepping stones,” he said with a shrug. "You’ve hidden your power every time we step on campus."

“Yeah… I’m not doing that anymore. They're not gonna disrespect you as long as I exist. The Apex is taking over the Academy.” He smirked at her and she smirked back. Maybe he didn't need to have her romantically. She had a point - they were still a team, even without a title or the responsibility of romance… no, not just a team… she’d said before, and even tonight that he was "her other half."

They were one.

#If They Didn't Get on the Train #AU Infinity Train #Infinity Train #Nesha Fanfiction #Infinity Train Fanfiction #fics #Attack in the Pumpkin Patch

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