#i literally added another college to my list two days ago because i heard they had a good film program

[alluringjae]

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.”

[unchartedsailors]

the more college applications i do and the more times i have to mark down “aerospace engineering” as my projected major, the more i realize i really dont give a fuck about it and all i really want to do is make movies

[the-most-slytherin-hufflepuff]

Wildcards

Hello peeps. So I found this little thing in my drafts and decided to post it. It was supposed to be the start of a coffee shop AU that I started writing ages ago and forgot about. So here you go, I may write a part 2 at some point. 

cw: mentions of food and some cursing

Finn was walking towards his favorite bookstore, because he somehow had already finished reading almost all the books on his shelf and, like the nerd he is, needed to go buy more. 

He arrived at the store without any idea of what he wanted to buy, he never did. He just went and looked for pretty book covers and hoped they were good, infallible logic if you asked him. By the time he finished looking around he had found five books, two of which he already had on his reading list but had never actually bought, the other three were wild cards since he had never heard of them before. He sent a quick text to Logan that he would be home soon and went to the register to check out. 

Finn was not someone that got caught off guard by people’s looks easily, except for his boyfriend who looked like a god, in his humble opinion, but the boy behind the counter was really testing that fact. He had curly blonde hair and baby blue eyes and— Finn needed to stop staring because staring is weird. 

“Hi, did you find everything you were looking for?”. Finn cursed all the gods, demons and deities in existence for giving the stranger such a nice voice.  A fact that did nothing to help his panic over the cute boy. 

Finn realized he should probably answer since a few seconds had passed, “Yeah, I wasn't really looking for anything, just walking around to see if I found something interesting.” 

The cute boy hummed in acknowledgement before responding, “ Do you come here often, I don't think i’ve seen you before”, he paused for a second before adding, “then again I have been working here for about two weeks so maybe that’s why”.    

“I come here a lot actually. Books and coffee,  what more could a college student need”, the cute boy looked at Finn with an unreadable expression before answering. “Money, sleep, and the will to live”.

 Finn burst out laughing at that and the cute boy soon joined. When the laughter subsided to light chuckling the cute boy continued. “I’m kidding, but yeah this place is pretty cool and I get free coffee so win-win” They talked for a little longer since the bookshop side of the store was pretty much deserted. Finn finally managed to ask for the guy's name. 

Leo. 

*~*~*~*~*

By the time Finn got back to the apartment he shared with Logan it was almost dark outside. He opened the door and walked to his and Logan’s room. He put the bag with the books near his shelf, he would have to organize them later, and walked out to the living room. 

Logan was sprawled on the floor staring up at the ceiling, tapping out the beat to the song he was listening to with his fingers. Finn came into Logan’s line of sight, waiting for his boyfriend to pause the song. 

“I’m going to make dinner.”

“Do not burn the kitchen O’Hara, we don’t have any fire extinguisher in the apartment”, Logan yelled, from his place on the floor. 

“Shut up Tremz”, Finn yelled back, a bright smile taking over his face when he heard Logan’s laugh. 

Finn went about preparing dinner, his mind going over his day. He woke up early, got ready, kissed Logan goodbye and went to class. He and a few classmates discussed whether or not Patroclus and Achilles dated, Finn would die saying that they had and no one would ever change his mind or history. Remus and Lily helped him with his homework for creative writing and then he left for the bookstore. 

The bookstore with an incredibly cute cashier named after his favorite constellation with the most beautiful blue eyes Finn had ever seen. That had thrown him for a loop, Finn had a boyfriend that he loved more than life itself, and yet Leo had taken his breath away. 

“If you think any faster you’re going to get a headache.” Logan hugged him from behind, wrapping his arms around Finn’s torso. He placed a kiss to the top of Finn’s spine. “What’s wrong?” 

“What makes you think something’s wrong?” 

“You have your ‘life is confusing me right now’ face. So tell me”, he moved so he could look at Finn’s face, “what’s going on.”

Finn sighed, putting the temperature of the stove at medium so the pot wouldn’t boil over and dropping the pasta in the hot water. “Nothing is really wrong. It’s just that”, he took a breath, trying to force his mind to put his feelings into words. “I just thought that having a boyfriend was supposed to stop me from having gay panics when I see cute boys in public.” Logan snorted amusement dancing in his green eyes. “Alas, there was a cute cashier in the bookstore. And I am very gay.” 

Logan let his forehead drop to Finn’s shoulder, trying very hard to not laugh. “You’re such a disaster, love”, Logan’s voice shook with barely suppressed laughter. He looked back up at Finn, who turned to face him with a small pout. 

“It’s not funny Lo. I literally stood in front of the poor guy for like five seconds staring like a fucking idiot.” 

Logan couldn’t hold it in anymore. He burst out laughing, standing on his tip toes to kiss Finn’s pout away. “So basically, exactly what happened the day we met?” Logan said after the last of his laughter faded away.  

“No”, Finn responded indignantly. “Maybe”, he conceded when Logan raised an eyebrow at him. Logan nodded, gave his boyfriend another short kiss and left the kitchen so Finn could finish making dinner.  

After dinner they sat curled up on the couch. Logan turned on the TV, the episode they had left unfinished last night began playing. Halfway through the next episode Logan spoke up, “So, a cute cashier huh?”

Finn blushed lightly at Logan’s teasing tone. “In my defense, he was very cute and funny.” 

“What, like, Remus cute or me cute?”  

“The word cute is losing all meaning to me”, Finn said. “But to answer your question, it was more you than Remus.” His nose scrunched up, “Remus is adorable the same way puppies are adorable.” 

 Logan nodded in agreement. They settled into comfortable silence. He had laid his head down on Finn’s lap who was playing with Logan’s soft curls. The words from the TV had stopped making sense and Logan found it very hard to keep his eyes open. He heard Finn whisper something, but he couldn't make out the words. 

When Logan managed to open his eyes again Finn was standing in front of him. “Sit up baby.” 

Logan whined in protest. “I don’t wanna walk.” 

Finn laughed softly. “I’ll carry you if you want, but you’re not sleeping on the couch.”

Logan sat up with a tired groan, making grabby hands at Finn. The red head lifted him off the couch and began walking towards their bedroom. Logan had let his head fall on his boyfriend’s shoulder, pressing lazy kisses to Finn’s jaw. “I love you”, he murmured sleepily. 

“I love you too”, he said, laying Logan down on the bed. He went to the dresser, chuckling when Logan whined sleepily at him to come back. “I’m just looking for something, don’t worry.” He threw one of his hoodies at Logan, who gave a huff of indignation when it hit him in the face. 

“Rude”, Logan muttered, pulling the hood over his face, pulling on the strings and laying down with his back to Finn. He smiled when he heard his boyfriend’s bright laugh echo through the room. The bed dipped and he felt a warm weight settle in front of him. Finn pushed the hood from his eyes and looked at him. He grabbed the back of Logan’s neck and kissed him. “I’m sorry”, he whispered. 

“You have to make it up to me.” Logan kept his voice low. 

“What do you want?”

“Cuddles,'' Logan answered. 

“I can do that”, Finn said, opening his arms so that Logan could scoot closer. He wrapped his arms around the smaller boy and placed a soft kiss on his forehead. “Good night my love”. 

“G’night”, he murmured sleepily. Finn held Logan a little closer, falling asleep minutes later, lulled by Logan’s soft snores. 

[itsmeevie01]

A Moment in Time-Ch 5

I'm back! lots of things to come, and a slightly longer, Tim centered, chapter! and...the build-up to the Timari subplot! 

Yay!

 I know that is what everyone is actually here for lol.

Tim was tired of looking for Jason.

He wasn’t at any of his normal safe houses, and none of his usual contacts had heard from him in the last few weeks. Three weeks after the ridiculous scandal had broken, the press had all but forgotten Tim for the time being. As he ducked through alleyways, the teen couldn’t help but be thankful as he climbed back on his bike and sped back towards Wayne Manor.

He was done waiting for his brother to show up. There was something sketchy going on in their city, and if Jason wasn’t going to show up, then it was no longer his concern.

When he got home, Tim found Bruce waiting for him in the study looking over the side gardens. The older C.E.O.’s face was grim.

When Tim approached the desk, Bruce handed him a stack of papers. As Tim started to page through them, he had a flashback to when Jared Stone had brought the pile of tabloids.

As he flipped through the new stack, Tim realized that it was Jason’s credit card statement. And-was that…? “did he buy a ticket for Paris? Why didn’t we get notified about his passport passing through customs? Why is Jason in France of all places?” when he looks back at his adoptive father, the man’s face was grim.

“I don’t know, Tim. But we sure as hell are going to find out. Go to his apartment. I know you have a key. We need to see if he left anything out from before he left.” Bruce paused before adding, “he’s been gone for two weeks. There has to be a reason.” Tim nodded as he moved to stride from the room before Alfred spoke, shocking both Bruce and Tim.

“Maser Bruce, did you by chance call Master Jason? Last I remember, his cell phone was still working.” The father and son froze, before turning to the family Butler, slack-jawed.

“We really are stupid.”

 Damian didn’t see anything wrong with Todd being gone. It was quieter around the Manor and it meant that the 13-year-old was allowed to patrol through Crime Alley by himself, something none of his predecessors had been able to do at his age.

As the young teen flew over the city, his mind raced. He found this the most relaxing part of his time with his father.

At the manor, there was always something going on and there was always someone looking over his shoulder. Here, as he went rooftop to rooftop, arching over this city, the boy was able to finally find some peace.

A sound over his earpiece broke Robin from his quiet elation. “Robin, how are you doing? Is everything clear?” oracle’s voice filtered through, bringing him to relax. Oracle he could handle.

“it’s a regular night, Oracle. A few of the regulars. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“perfect. Finish up and head back, B wants you back before 2 because you have school tomorrow.”

The annoyed “Tch” that came down the line made the redhead laugh from where she sat at the computer.

 Tim had texted Jason before he had left for patrol. When he got back, there was a response waiting for him.

Jason: in Paris. I’ll be back soonish

Tim: Jay, what’s soonish?

Tim: there’s a situation we need your help with.

Jason: kid, I'll be back when I can.

Jason: if B cares, tell him Gina kidnapped me. I’m staying with her right now.

Jason: otherwise, just wait. It's personal business.

Tim: Jay, we are your family. Doesn’t that make it our business too?

Jason: in this case, no. fuck off, replacement

Tim: See you when you get back Jay

 The teen sighed. It was just like Jason to try and handle everything himself. This time, Tim couldn’t play interference either, he was stuck across an ocean. He just hoped this Gina person wasn’t as impulsive as his older brother. If she was, they would all be in trouble.

 As he made his way to his room, having showered and gotten himself ready for the next day, Tim paused by his desk.

He had taken the time to compile a file on the girl from a few weeks ago but hadn’t read it yet. He knew that if he was to read it, it would be violating her privacy, but he did that every day, so was this any different? To Tim, the only difference was that this girl wasn’t someone to watch or take in. she was just a normal girl with a normal life, who had run into him for a split second.

It wasn’t like he was going to meet her, right?

The teen shook his head and flopped onto his bed. It wasn’t worth it tonight. He could have the moral debate with himself when he was properly rested.

 Maybe he should have called in sick. Tim was definitely finding a way to leave early, as he looked at the list of meetings that he had been scheduled for.

Why had he agreed to this again? He could have sworn that he had told his assistant that Wednesday was his day to go home and work on his college classes. Instead, Tim had a feeling that he was going to be at the office late.

On his off night too.

 Partway through the day, he noticed an email that he didn’t recognize in his personal inbox. The inbox that he probably shouldn’t have been checking on the company computer but…

After a moment of hesitation, the young C.E.O. had clicked on the new email and blinked at what pulled up.

  From: Mari_Beri2001@gmail.com

To: timdrakeeeee99@gmail.com

Mr. Drake,

My name is Marinette Dupain Cheng. I believe that we ran into each other quite literally a month and a half ago, approximately. As I am sure that you have at least seen the fictitious stories floating through the media, I assume that you are aware of the interaction that I am referring to.

Originally, I had no intention of reaching out, but a friend of mine encouraged me to reach out. (had actually was the one to give me your email. Does the name Jason Todd ring a bell?) I do hope that this whole press fiasco hasn’t hindered you too terribly.

Kindest Regards,

Marinette Dupain Cheng

 Tim blinked once before rereading the short email that the girl had sent. No. no way. She knew Jason? And what did she mean, Jason was the one to encourage her to reach out? Opening up a new draft, Tim hesitated before flicking his wrists to rid himself of tension and trying his reply.

 From: timdrakeeeee99@gmail.com

To: Mari_Beri2001@gmail.com

Miss Dupain Cheng,

I was surprised to receive your email, but it seems that it came at a fortunate time. Yes, I do know Jason Todd. I know him quite well, actually. He and I were adopted by the same man, Bruce Wayne. If you don’t mind me asking, how did you meet my brother?

I must apologize, for the whole scandal from last month. I know that neither of us were directly responsible, but I do feel bad for any trouble it may have caused you. If it is not too much of an intrusion, I might also ask, how were you able to respond so quickly? The only reason I knew about the incident was Bruce’s old friend Jared. The man came into my office in a fit about the nerve of the photographer.

(if you ever meet the man, you will understand what I mean when I say that he never does things halfway. He had picked up a copy of every magazine or tabloid that ran a story about it. When he came in, he actually brought his crocodile as well. Fang scared the lobby staff more than anything has for the past bit, I believe.)

I hope this finds you well,

Timothy Drake Wayne

 After reading through his email one more time to make sure it sounded professional enough, Tim hit the send button and let out a deep breath that he didn’t know he had been holding. He didn’t know why, but he had a feeling that this was the start of something important.

Suddenly, Tim was very glad he hadn’t read the girl’s file.

 As he was preparing to head to yet another meeting later that afternoon, Tim glanced at his personal email again. To his surprise, the teen was met with another email from the French girl.

 From: Mari_Beri2001@gmail.com

To: timdrakeeeee99@gmail.com

Mr. Drake (or is it Drake Wayne?)

Jason was sitting next to me when I opened your last email. Imagine my surprise when he panicked. Apparently, he had decided against informing any of his family of his departure. I must say, his reaction was quite entertaining.

Onto your question from your email, Penny Rolling, a good friend of mine, dropped off a box full of the tabloid trash that her husband, Jagged had shipped to her as soon as she got it. After my initial reaction, the two of us got a good laugh out of the whole situation. Especially when we heard that Jagged tried to bring Fang into your office! I guess to you, he would be Jared, but to me, he will always be my Uncle Jagged.

In other news, I thought it would be polite to pass on that Jason will be returning in the next few days. He has been fretting over a family emergency, not that he will tell me what it is but, there is only so much I can do. However, I thought it might be prudent to forewarn you that he will be bringing my grandmother back with him. Nona said it was something to do with one of his ‘side hustles’. Knowing those two, however, makes me think that Jason has gotten himself into something significantly illegal this time.

No need to apologize for something that neither of us could control! You did not ask for the photographer to take that ridiculous photo, nor did you ask for the fiction writers who work for the tabloids to write a piece of the photo. That said, I do feel that it has opened many new avenues. I know that Jason and I reconnected because of the photo, and it has given my lawyers something to focus on while we wait on proceedings for other matters.

Have a good day,

Marinette Dupain Cheng

 Jason was coming home sooner than he planned. It seemed like Tim’s text had actually gotten through to his older brother.

With a sigh, he marked the email as important so that he would remember to respond to it before he started on his homework.

The teen C.E.O. snagged his thermos of coffee on the way out the door, he had a meeting to go to.

And...there it is! this week I'm going to try and work out my posting schedule. what did everyone think of the emails?

  i know that there are a lot more people in the Wayne/bat family, so I'm going to work them in a little bit at a time. as far as Dick Grayson is concerned, btw he knows about the scandal but not about Jason's sister or that he's not in Gotham.

MasterPost

Tag List

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[moon-mirage]

uhhh I don't know how many prompts I get for your cresswell drabble thing, but it's exam season so how about an "I know we've literally never spoken but my roommate has their partner over and I have an exam tomorrow and i CAN'T focus when they're around so please can I hang out with you until then?" AU 👀

You can enter as many prompts as you like. :) It would be good to have just one word because then I can maybe manage to write a drabble only. But only maybe. 

But since you gave me more than a word, you’ll also get more words back ... 2,7k actually. :P I hope you have some time to spare. ;)

---

It was one thing to see her crush from far away, maybe even in a group of shared friends.

It was a whole different matter if he actually walked around her little apartment as if he owned the place even though he had never been here before.

"You like Vietnamese food, right?" He asked over his shoulder as he looked though the little kitchenette for some cutlery. Scarlet had organised the place well, so he easily found it. "You know Wolf, so there shouldn't be any cilantro in any of the dishes. Not sure what his deal with cilantro is since he usually eats everything that can be chewed. Weird if you ask me," he told her with a shrug.

"I do," Cress piped up. "Like Vietnamese food, I mean," she added lamely. After he said it was weird, she didn't want to reveal that she didn't like cilantro either.

Why oh why, couldn't have Scarlet warned her?

Although what could have prepared her for the sight of Carswell Thorne in her open door with two big bags of takeout, asking her if he could come in?

A devilish smile, a wink and Cress lost her ability to speak. Or behave like a normal human being.

She wanted to hide in her bedroom, change into something pretty and practice a conversation. She would like to be smart and witty and maybe a little bit sexy so he wouldn't know what hit him. He should be impressed by her, fall in love with her but instead she hardly could say a word.

He gave her his best smile. "Great." He hummed a few notes as he arranged the dishes on her counter, and she saw him glance at the pictures at the wall.

Oh stars!

It's not that she was particularly embarrassed by the fun pictures with her friends, when they had dressed up for a Disney-themed party (although with quite some booze which was hardly Disney-approved). But she certainly was now that her crush saw her in a full-blown Rapunzel costume, including the braided wig!

She cleared her throat, relieved when he turned his attention on her instead.

Well, that relief was short-lived now that he looked at her.

With those dreamy eyes that haunted her since her first college party.

Since then, Carswell Thorne had crossed her path more than once though she had to to speak with him more than ten words.

"What are you doing here?" She blurted out.

"Um." For the first time since he entered her apartment, Thorne looked sheepish. "Right. So, Scarlet is at our place."

Cress nodded. That wasn't anything new. Since Scarlet and Wolf got together, they had been almost inseparable. Wolf had come by their apartment a few times but tall as he was, he always looked caged in their small apartment, almost afraid to move and accidentally break something. Even sitting on their couch had been a sight. Cress and Scarlet fit snuggly into it but when Wolf sat on it, he used the whole space for himself. He had tried to make himself look smaller - an unsuccessful endeavour.

So, Scarlet was usually at his place that he shared with Thorne.

Which still didn't answer why Thorne was here.

In her apartment! With takeout!

Rubbing his neck, he seemed surprised that his reply hadn't answered her question. "So, Scarlet and Wolf are at our place ... together." When she didn't say anything, he gave an exasperated sigh. "I mean, together-together." He gave her a pointed look before folding a few napkins. "And I could hear everything. I mean, my bedroom is next to Wolf's so they know that I can hear them. They just didn't care."

Cress blushed furiously. Scarlet had been considerate enough not to bring Wolf to her place to be, as Thorne had put it, together-together but it had never occurred to Cress that they would go to Wolf's place instead since he also didn't live alone.

"But um, don't you also bring... girlfriends over?" The words were difficult to say with ease and she hoped he didn't notice. Thorne was many things - a charmer, very smart, good-looking and fun - but also, to her detriment, quite popular among the female students for all the reasons she just listed. She knew he went out with Shan from one of her classes for a while, Scarlet's friend Émilie had also talked about dating Thorne during their first semester and she had  seen him with Elia from Cress's dancing class as well. And those were just the ones she knew about.

Maybe if he flirted with her, if she at least got the chance for a date ... She never wanted to be another girl for Thorne, she wanted to be the girl for Thorne but he never extended his excessive flirting to her. More often than not, she had wondered if he even knew who she was despite sometimes hanging out together with Scarlet, Wolf, Cinder and Kai and Iko.

He gave a short laugh. "We usually have a kind of understanding ... or a schedule." A wink. "And I'm more discreet. I tell you, Scarlet brings out the wolf in Wolf," he said with a snicker. "Dinner is served!"

With flourish, he revealed the counter where he had strategically placed all the dishes, the rice, the sauces and even some candles she recognised as the ones they usually placed on the little shelf next to the door.

When she didn't say anything, he faltered for a second, his proud smile turning into a frown. "Oh wait." He looked through one of his pockets until he found a lighter and proceeded to lit the candles. "What do you say?"

Cress's heart was beating hard in her chest. "It's beautiful," the told him truthfully.

He preened at her compliment. "Well, the stuff you have is quite nice. The table pretty much set itself." Reaching for her, Cress felt his warm hands on her shoulder as he led her to the counter and helped her sit on one of the barstools.

This wasn't happening. Was she really eating dinner with Thorne?

When he looked expectantly at her, she reached for a summer roll, dipped in one of the sauces and hoped she wouldn't spill the whole content on her shirt as she bit into it. It was delicious and she hummed in pleasure.

"I take it tastes good?"

She opened her eyes, trying her best not to blush. "Amazing. Where is it from?"

"It's a few blocks from our place. Next time you come over, we can order from there again. Although there is also this great Indian restaurant you've got to try."

Cress munched on her roll, trying to figure out if he had indeed invited her to his apartment. Probably along with their other friends but still. She had only seen his place once not too long ago when he and Wolf had a little housewarming party.

A thought occurred to her. "Wait. If you, Scarlet and Wolf ordered it ... and you brought it here ... did you steal their food?"

He gave her an innocent look that could fool nobody. "I wouldn't say steal. I told you, they were otherwise occupied. Food is the last thing on their minds right now. And why let it go to waste?" He dug into one of the rice dishes, chewing thoughtfully.

They ate in silence but somehow, it wasn't awkward. At least, Cress didn't feel it was. But she was usually silent, so maybe it was awkward for Thorne?

Gathering all her courage, she asked him about his classes. An easy and safe topic for her and though he answered, he was more monosyllabic than she was used from him. He must have noticed himself because he gave her an apologetic smile.

"Sorry, Cress, it's just ... I'm doing okay but I'm no match for the golden child from campus. I doubt I could tell you anything you don't know already."

"That's not true." They shared a literature class together and he had eloquently interpreted a piece of fiction with ease. His view on the book had impressed her, despite having read on it and knowing the many ways to interpret the book. But he had made it his own and expressed his opinion, while Cress was usually too shy to raise her hand and join the discussion.

When she told him, he laughed warmly. "Ah, that pulp fiction story, I remember. Honestly, Cress, I was just bullshitting. I haven't even read the book."

"But then it's even more impressive."

There was a short silence during which she carefully evaded his gaze and focused on some fried vegetable. "That's sweet of you to say. But still, you're the genius who is acing pretty much every test without trying from what I've heard. I'm jealous," he said with a conspiratorial wink.

She blushed but didn't deny it. She wanted to let him know that it wasn't anything special, that learning was easy for her and that studying had been the only thing she had ever been good at - but no, it would come off as haughty or patronising. "I would like to be more like you," she confessed before she could stop herself.

"Sure you do. Who wouldn't?" He meant it as a joke but Cress didn't miss that there was a sombre tone to it.

She shrugged, trying to find the right words. "I'm good at tests, so I do well at college that's true but I'm not ... one day, we'll have our degree and then those grades won't matter much. I suck at personal interviews and my soft skills are really bad. I freeze up when I'm asked questions even though I know the answer. I'm not someone you remember among all those other college students aside from my grades."

"I remember you," he said without missing a beat. Cress blushed furiously at that and had no answer. Before the silence stretched on for too long, Thorne spoke again. "I'm actually relieved. I always saw you and heard the way people talked about you and thought, wow, there's someone who doesn't have to worry about life after college."

"I wish."

He nodded. "I actually excel at interviews. I can bullshit my way through them. Hey, I could teach you!" His eyes glinted with honest pride. "It's all about confidence."

"I don't have much of that," she murmured.

He waved her concerns away. "Just pretend you do then. Believe me, if you go into an interview, thinking you deserve the job and they have to convince you to take it, you'll automatically act all confident. It's easy, I'll show you how." He tipped at his temple, as if an idea had just occurred to him. "And in return you help me studying for my tests, deal?"

Thorne was all smiles and Cress couldn't help but grin back at him. He was so genuine and kind, in ways she was never able to discern from away. It just made her heart ache more. "Deal."

From that moment on, their conversation flowed more easily and Cress learned more about Thorne, his dreams and ambitions she had ever thought possible. Shy at first, she was nevertheless gaining some confidence as she talked to him and wasn't embarrassed when he pointed to the picture of her, Scarlet and Cinder in their Disney dresses.

"Please, let me borrow it. I need to make fun of Cinder, please, Cress? You can't deny me that one chance to one-up Cinder."

"She would so kill me."

"But Cress, she's wearing a dress. A poufy one, with glitter! And a tiara! An ugly one but still. Maybe I should take her shopping for a new one. See, I need that picture to help Cinder. That's me being a great friend."

"How selfless of you."

He nodded earnestly. "Selfless is my middle name. Right after suave and daring."

Cress giggled as she finished the last bit of her rice pudding dessert. With some sadness, she realised their nice evening together would be soon over. She didn't want it to be but takeout was what he came here for and now nothing was left.

Even Thorne was quiet, as he looked at all the empty boxes, cleaning a few specks on the counter with a napkin.

Cress wondered where he would go now. It was unlikely that Scarlet would return tonight or that she and Wolf would not take advantage of the empty apartment.

As if he read her mind, Thorne asked. "Would you mind if I crashed here for tonight?"

Cress stuttered. He wanted to stay the night? Here? At her place? Where she was?

"Or not!" He laughed. "Sorry, I didn't want to make you uncomfortable. I just assumed Scarlet's room is empty and since it's already late... I'm sorry, Cress." Reaching for her hand, he squeezed it lightly. His usually mischievous grin was replaced by something more soft and sweet and she knew he would leave if she asked him to.

Cress had never invited a guy into her apartment. She wasn't prepared. The bathroom was a cluttered mess and she desperately tried to remember if she left her underwear somewhere he could see. Or the braces she wore during the night. Aces, he would see her in her spaceship pyjamas! Her cute flowery ones were in the laundry. She was just not prepared for Carswell Thorne staying the night.

And still... "I-it's fine. I'm sure Scarlet won't mind." From the stories she heard, they had already shared a tent when they went hiking with Cinder and Iko. Cinder had absolutely refused to share the tent with Thorne but Scarlet and Iko didn't have the same issues (though for different reasons, she remembered).

His smile was soft but there was a touch of nervousness that was so unlike the Thorne she knew that she felt flustered and busied herself with cleaning up the dishes. "Thank you, Cress. I promise to-"

She didn't let him finish. "Is that why you came here?" She had actually wondered about that. Thorne could have went anywhere after leaving his apartment. Iko and Cinder's apartment was much closer to his place than hers, and Kai's place was really fancy. It was the apartment they would hang out the most since it was the most spacious one and had lots of anemities. For a group of ever-poor students, it was a dream come true.

The silence went on a heartbeat too long. "Yes. Right. Scarlet's empty room. I mean it makes sense right?" His laugh was a touch too loud before he helped her cleaning up the counter. "I promise you won't even notice I'm here."

Somehow she doubted that.

---

"I can't believe you actually thought I randomly came by with dinner."

"How could I think you were not? You were at my door with takeout, I didn't think ..."

Thorne tugged playfully at one of her locks. "- I wouldn't come by under pretense just to spend a bit of time with the girl I had a crush on?" He finished for her. "Come on, Cress. You are supposed to be the smart one in this relationship."

"But you were so convincing!"

His finger tips ghosted over her cheek and she leaned into her touch. "Just as I told you then ... I pretended to be confident. And apparently, it worked."

The kiss that followed still made her heart race. She laced her hands behind his neck, drawing him closer, his taste now so familiar to her.

It stopped way too soon. She looked up him questioningly, her eyebrows furrowed when she saw his mischivious grin. "What?"

Leaning closer, he whispered into her ear. "You want to know another secret?" She knew he would feel her nod. "Scarlet and Wolf had left for the weekend to visit Scarlet's grandma. I didn't see - or hear - them for two whole days."

She gasped and he bit his lips playfully. "You planned this?"

"Yes." He drew her in for another kiss. "And I'm glad I did."

Her heart warmed at his confession. "Me too."

---

Don’t ask me why but I feel this oneshot pretty much wrote itself (during working hours but no one needs to know that). It’s actually my first AU oneshot and it was a fun challenge. I hope you enjoyed reading it. Thank you again for the prompt. :)

[cakesunflower]

Just My Kind [Teacher!Calum AU] Part 5

Previous Parts: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

           “Seriously, Ms. Kline—you two look so cute!”

           Odessa let out a light laugh despite the heat pooling in her cheeks as one of her students, Marci, who was dressed as Padmé Amidala, grinned before pulling away from where she stood between Odessa and Calum after they posed with her for a picture. It was Halloween, and almost every student and teacher was dressed up, and during gym or lunch or the few minutes between classes, people were posing for pictures with one another—and many, mostly the girls, had approached Odessa and Calum so they could take a picture with the school’s Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy. They were almost as popular as the four gym teachers who dressed up as KISS.

           She and Calum had decided on recreating costumes from the scene of when Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth dance at Mr. Bingley’s ball, Odessa’s white dress and dark hair done in an updo remarkably resembling Kiera Knightley’s costume from the film. Odessa had felt a bit strange, walking into the school in a long white dress that was so soft against her skin, hair done up in braids and curls, but when she noted the costumes of her fellow teachers and students—seriously, the gym teachers had gone out with their outfits and makeup—Odessa had felt a bit more relieved.

           Especially when she saw Calum.

           Just like her, his costume starkly resembled Mr. Darcy’s suit from the very scene they were dressed up as. The dark coat with the white ruffled shirt underneath was a simple outfit, yet there was nothing simple about Calum. Although his blonde hair didn’t match Mr. Darcy’s traditionally dark locks—Calum had lamented about the lack of his natural hair color—he still looked classy and dangerously prince-like—and Odessa knew she wasn’t the only one who thought so. She was pretty sure she’d seen some of the young girls quite literally swoon at the sight of him, which was more amusing than disturbing.

           Just a few hours after school had let out, Odessa arrived to Luke and Sierra’s place, noting the cars that were already in the driveway and parked along the sidewalk. As she unbuckled her seatbelt, Calum grinned from the driver’s seat. “Ready to head in, Ms. Bennet?”

           Odessa scoffed, an amused smile upturning her lips. Calum had taken to calling her that throughout the school day, referring to himself as Mr. Darcy. Apparently he took Halloween pretty seriously, into it as much as the students were, and it was refreshing to be around his excitement. As the two of them approached the door, Odessa mused, “So what’s the prize for the costume contest?”

           Yes, Luke and Sierra were holding a costume contest, which Odessa had found out a few days ago when Luke had reminded her to use that as motivation to get a good costume. When Odessa had asked him what the prize was, he had promptly told her it was a secret—but Odessa knew him well enough to know that was his way of stalling because at the time, he hadn’t thought of a prize yet.

           “Pretty sure it’s one of those Visa gift cards,” Calum snorted before shrugging. “But it’s for a couple of hundred bucks and I wouldn’t say no to that,” he added with a boyish grin and quick raise of his eyebrows, and Odessa chuckled in agreement, her breath fogging in front of her in the cold night air.

           The house, as expected, was filled with people dressed up obscurely, the spirit of Halloween alive as some remix of the Monster Mash played. Odessa was fairly certain it was the same one Principal Howell played that morning prior to the first bell ringing. People all around her were dressed as fictional characters, as their own versions of different occupations, video game characters, and she was pretty sure she’d caught a glimpse of two people dressed in the classic salt and pepper costume. Halloween related decorations were up as well, decals of spiders and bats on the wall, Jack-O-Lanterns placed around the house, and even a damn smoke machine in certain places that had people’s feet disappearing below the ankles.

           They decided to find their friends first, all of them gathered in the back den around a beer pong table, and Odessa suppressed a laugh at the sudden sensation of feeling as though she was back in college. Not that she’d ever played much beer pong; it wasn’t her sort of thing.

           Sierra was the first one to catch sight of them approaching, eyes lighting up with a wide grin as she gasped, her voice traveling over the hum of the music and everyone else as she exclaimed, “Oh, my God—your costumes look even better than I thought!”

           Her words caught everyone’s attention before they all looked over to Odessa and Calum approaching them, earning enthusiastic greetings as Michael raised an eyebrow at them. “Who’re you two supposed to be?”

           Odessa could ask him the same thing, but she vaguely remembered Calum telling her that he and Crystal were dressing up as some anime characters. “We’re Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth from Pride and Prejudice, you uncultured shit,” Calum responded with a scoff, bumping his fist with Ashton’s as he came to stand next to him. “Our students loved it,” he added, a proud grin on his face as his gaze met Odessa’s. She couldn’t fight back the smile that quirked her lips in response.

           “Yeah, I’ll bet,” Paige said with a smile that, just by giving her one glance, Odessa knew was strained.

           Paige’s eyes met Odessa’s then, and she instantly recognized the irritation that darkened her hazel eyes. Odessa bit the inside of her cheek, taking a breath and instinctively breaking her gaze with Paige’s, not wanting to actively be on the receiving end of her silent scowl. No doubt Calum essentially dressing up in a couple’s costume with anyone but her was grating at Paige’s nerves, and Odessa had a strong feeling if she wasn’t on Paige’s shit list before, she definitely earned a spot now. The glare Paige had practiced into a look of neutrality—one that Odessa was too familiar with—rested on her face, razor-like eyes settled on Odessa.

           Adamant on keeping her gaze averted from Paige’s, Odessa looked at Luke and offered a smile. “Weren’t you a vampire when we were seniors?”

           Luke scoffed, clearly unperturbed by his repeated costume. “Yeah—but now I’ve got someone to complete the look,” he reasoned with a dimpled grin, dropping his arm around Sierra’s shoulders. Odessa smiled at the sight, taking in her matching vampire costume and makeup, noting the clever detail of fake blood trailing down the corners of Luke’s lips to match the painted on red bite marks on the side of Sierra’s neck.

           Ashton rolled his eyes, giving the couple a pointed look as he said, “If you two win the costume contest, then this shit is rigged.”

           As Sierra told Ashton that wouldn’t happen, KayKay, who was appropriately dressed as Winona Ryder from Beetlejuice, looked over at Odessa and Calum, a smile on her face as she raised her eyebrows and asked, “So your students understood your costumes’ reference?”

           Odessa huffed out a laugh. “I would’ve cried if they didn’t.” Though, it wouldn’t be too surprising, she figured. Not every, if any, high school student knew the beauty of Jane Austen.

           Next to her Calum chuckled before, leaning closer, he asked, “I’m gonna grab a beer—you want anything?”

           She wasn’t in the mood to do any heavy drinking tonight, so she opted for one as well. “I’ll have the same, thanks.”

           He acknowledged her request with a boyish wink, one that foolishly warmed Odessa’s cheeks, before he turned to head towards the kitchen. Odessa tuned back into whatever conversations her friends were having upon his leave, only to have Crystal lean close and smile, “You two would honestly be so cute.”

           She said it quietly, only loud enough for Odessa to hear, and although Crystal’s words had Odessa’s heart stopping for a moment, she also pressed her teeth together when oblivious to Crystal, Paige shot the blonde woman a glare behind her head. Clearly she heard what Crystal said, the idea of Calum with Odessa not one she was in support of as her jaw tightened before her sharp eyes met Odessa’s blue. Her stare was firm, intense, as if she was silently challenging Odessa to agree with Crystal’s statement.

           Odessa’s stomach twisted. The subtle giddiness she’d felt over Crystal’s comment was overshadowed by the anxious guilt—guilt for what? She had no reason to feel guilty!—that stirred in the pit of Odessa’s stomach under Paige’s irritated glare. She didn’t even look hurt at the thought of overhearing someone else would ‘look cute’ with the guy she supposedly had a claim over—just downright annoyed.

           In the back of Odessa’s mind, she wondered if Paige genuinely liked Calum, or just liked the idea of him.

           “No, no, we’re just friends,” Odessa told Crystal, a light yet nervous laugh accompanying her words. She wasn’t sure if she was defending, protesting, denying so she could ease her heart rate or subsequently let Paige know she wasn’t trying to step on her toes. Or feelings. Whichever. Even if the thought of her and Calum made her heart flutter. “There’s nothing like that going on.”

           Crystal shrugged, still unaware of Paige listening in, as mirth danced in her blue eyes. “Maybe there should be,” she hummed.

           One look at Paige and Odessa knew she vehemently disagreed.

           Before Odessa could swallow the small lump that had formed in her throat and reply to Crystal, Calum reappeared next to her, handing her a bottle of Stella Artois with a smile. He held his own out, waiting for her to clink her bottle with his as he greeted, “Miss Bennet.”

           She looked at him, felt some of the tension ease from her muscles as he pulled out a smile from her so effortlessly. Calum was smiling, as always, dark eyes glimmering against the dimmed lighting of Luke’s house. With an amused shake of her head, Odessa asked not for the first time, “You take this seriously, don’t you?”

           Calum grinned, bringing the bottle up to his lips as he offered a shrug. “Just a little.”

           Conversations continued along with the music that was playing, and as Odessa watched Calum engage in a round of beer pong against KayKay, Luke leaned against the wall next to Odessa and asked, “So are you chaperoning that field trip Cal was telling me about? To Big Bear?”

           “Oh, yeah,” Odessa answered with a hum as she remembered. It was a weekend trip for the juniors and seniors between Thanksgiving weekend and Christmas break, and Odessa had signed up to be a chaperone, and given that Big Bear was going to have snow around this time of year, she needed to do some winter packing. “I’m excited.”

           Luke raised an eyebrow at her, although her gaze remained on the beer pong game going on in front of them. “Do you even know how to ski?”

           Rolling her eyes, she told her friend, “I don’t have to ski to enjoy the resort, Luke.”

           Paige shook her head, sipping her drink before asking, “If you don’t even know how to ski, why bother going?”

           She sounded unimpressed, patronizing, and Odessa had a feeling she was the only one who picked up on it—and maybe Luke, who knew Paige almost as well as she did. Inhaling a silent, calming breath, Odessa kept her expression relaxed and offered a shrug. “I want to see snow.” God, there was no reason for her to even have to explain herself.

           Paige rolled her eyes, hiding her sneer behind the rim of her cup as she took another sip, and Odessa clenched her jaw as she looked away from her. Her annoyance with Paige was mixing in with the ever present nerves that made themselves known when she was in her presence, and Odessa did her best to just focus on the beer pong game going on.

           It was a close game, both KayKay and Calum good at the act of tossing ping pong balls into cups, letting out a chuckle as KayKay tossed the ball in the last cup standing and missing. Her groan was drowned out by everyone’s exclaims, and as Calum picked up the ball, ready to toss it into the single cup left for him as well, his brown eyes met Odessa’s blue. Then, with a boyish wink, he said, “This one’s for you, Miss Bennet.”

           Odessa’s eyebrows shot up, unsure if she wanted to laugh or have the ground open up beneath her. He definitely wasn’t making things easier for her against Paige—not that he was under any obligation to.

           He certainly wasn’t making it any easier to completely discard Paige’s glares and revel in the warmth he spread throughout her own cheeks.

           Calum tossed the little white ball, and everyone let out a cheering exclaims as it landed in the cup with a muted plop! that had him smirking triumphantly. Odessa let out a laugh as Calum came to stand next to her, arm dropping around her shoulders as he smirked, “Think you’re my good luck charm, Essa.” He frowned at himself momentarily before shooting her a sheepish smile. “In a way that’s not objectifying at all, I mean.”

           She snorted with a shake of her head, though Odessa definitely found it endearing that Calum would think she’d ever find anything he said as objectifying. Still, as amused as she was by him, she couldn’t entirely ignore the warmth in her cheeks at their sudden proximity—or his sentiment of her being his good luck charm. They stood closely together, his heat seeping into her skin through the thin material of the dress she wore, and Odessa hoped her makeup and the dim lighting of the den would mask the pink blush she could feel spreading through her face. The knowing smirk Crystal shot her way didn’t help.

           “I don’t really have any winter clothes,” Odessa chuckled as she watched Sierra make herself a drink, leaning against the counter. “I think I need to buy at least one coat for the cold.”

           It was some time after watching Calum and KayKay’s beer pong game, and Odessa had ended up in the kitchen with Sierra, the party continuing around them. There was a girl in an Elsa costume making out with a guy dressed up as a firefighter next to the fridge. Meanwhile, Odessa and Sierra were discussing the field trip Odessa was going on soon, and how her lack of winter clothes was going to make it a bit difficult for her to stay warm in the snowy mountains. Truth be told, Odessa hadn’t even been aware California had those, so she was wholly unprepared for the trip to Big Bear Mountain.

           “Oh, you can borrow one of mine!” Sierra offered with a smile. With a laugh, she added, “I’m from the east coast, so I’ve got a couple of coats. I’m pretty sure we’re the same size.”

           Odessa’s eyes lit up in hope. “Really? You sure?”

           “Yeah, of course,” Sierra answered with a shrug. “It’s not like I need to wear ’em anyway. Plus you won’t be wasting money. No big deal.”

           Letting out a sigh of relief, Odessa held her nearly empty bottle of beer to her chest as she said, “You’re a life saver.”

           Sierra grinned before taking a sip of her drink, tasting it. When she was satisfied with it, her dark eyes met Odessa’s blue, and she saw the mischief spark in them. “No problem—although I’m sure Calum would be more than happy to warm you up if you get too cold.”

           Unfortunately, Odessa had been taking a sip of her drink too, and she wished the music and people chattering muted Sierra’s words because as soon as they registered in Odessa’s head, she coughed in surprise, eyes widening as she gaped at her amused friend. Heart drumming within her chest, Odessa gave a shake of her head as she sputtered stupidly, “What?”

           Sierra shot her a look, one that was silently asking Odessa who she was trying to fool, and it only made her cheeks flame up. God. Was it everyone’s goal tonight to make her face permanently red? She folded into herself, lips pressing together as Sierra scoffed. “Come on, Odessa—you two are so obviously into each other in, like, the most wholesome way. I say instead of waiting for him to make the move, you do it. Cal’s way above the average clueless man but, y’know, he’s still a guy and they can be clueless.”

           Odessa had no idea what to say or do except stare at her friend in mortified shock, and Odessa kind of hated that she felt embarrassed at all. Like she was in middle school and someone just exposed her crush on the popular boy or something. The worst part was. . . Odessa wasn’t sure if she was flustered because Sierra was right to conclude that Odessa liked Calum, or because Odessa knew that other people’s acknowledgment of it would make whatever the hell her situation with Paige was all the more complicated and stressful. Stepping on Paige’s toes was the last thing she wanted to do, and in wanting to avoid it, Odessa was somehow doing just that.

           Her throat worked as she glanced away from Sierra, only for her gaze to land on their friends in the living room. She caught them all by the couch and instantly Odessa’s gaze locked in on Calum sitting on one end of the couch—and Paige sitting on the arm rest, as close to him as she could be without literally being on his lap. The sight tugged something painfully in Odessa’s chest and she frowned at herself; she had no right to feel jealous.

           Was this how Paige felt when she watched Calum put his arm around Odessa, how she felt when she was subjected to Odessa’s closeness with Calum? When Odessa first moved into town, Paige had made it quite clear, in just a few words, that Calum was basically off limits—which was gross and territorial in Odessa’s opinion, but she truly had tried her best to respect Paige’s so-called claim—ew. But it wasn’t easy, not with Calum and her working together and their friendship developing within the school and out of it. Being friends with him was so effortless, and falling for him had happened somewhere in between. Odessa couldn’t ever hope to pinpoint when exactly her feelings for him grew—it had happened quickly, blindly.

           Maybe she was in the wrong. For someone who hadn’t wanted to encroach on Paige’s feelings for Calum, Odessa was doing just that splendidly. She didn’t know whether what Paige felt for Calum was purely physical or something deeper, and it wasn’t any of Odessa’s business in the first place. Either way, she should’ve respected whatever feelings Paige had for Calum and kept her distance, for all of their sakes. She’d screwed up.

           As if feeling her gaze on him, Calum glanced away from where he was listening to Ashton talk to the group, his gaze searching past the bodies moving in the space between where he sat and Odessa stood until his eyes met hers. Odessa froze where she stood, watching as a smile upturned Calum’s lips and he nodded at her boyishly, the mundane gesture prompting her to suck in a silent breath. But before she could return the smile, Odessa felt another pair of eyes on her, and her gaze flickered just a bit for her blue eyes to meet Paige’s sharp hazel ones; watching, challenging, narrowing. She’d clearly seen Calum’s little acknowledgment to Odessa and hadn’t liked it too much.

           Oh, for fuck’s sake.

           Odessa looked away from them, catching Sierra’s eye and offering a smile that felt too nervous. “No one’s gonna be making any moves, Sierra,” she told her, not unkindly. “It’d be too complicated.” Finishing off her drink, Odessa tossed her empty bottle in the bin told her friend hastily, “I’m gonna head to the bathroom.”

           “Oh, here,” Sierra stopped her, digging into the pocket of her leather pants and handing her a key. Odessa took it with a raised brow and Sierra laughed. “It’s the key to our bedroom—I’d rather you use our bathroom than face whatever mess in the others.”

           Odessa let out a small chuckle, taking the key with an appreciative smile before exiting the kitchen hastily, letting out a breath as she reached the stairs and headed up. The distance she was putting between herself and her friends made it easier to breathe as she made her way around the dressed up party goers and found the master bedroom, using the key to unlock the door and step inside.

           The room felt significantly cooler than the rest of the house, the lack of body heat making the air conditioner a lot more effective as Odessa walked to the ensuite bathroom Sierra so graciously provided her access to.

           The sound of the flush momentarily muted the music blasting throughout the house, and as Odessa washed her hands, she let out a long sigh. She gazed at her reflection, took in the subtle glittering of her cheekbones and bright blue eyes framed by long eyelashes, and Odessa eyebrows knitted together in an involuntary frown. In the quiet of the bathroom, the party beyond the bedroom muffled, Odessa gave herself a moment to erase the image of Paige and Calum merely sitting by one another—God, how pathetic was she to be bothered by that?—and mull over Sierra’s words, as well as Crystal’s.

           Odessa desperately wished her friends’ comments were just teasing, were derived from, to put it grandly, their shared delusion that there was something between Odessa and Calum. But she had a sinking feeling that it wasn’t, that if both of them were picking up on something, then it was because there was something to pick up on. Despite Odessa’s attempts of not acting on whatever she felt for Calum out of respect for a girl she barely considered a friend.

           She didn’t even to consider the slim possibility of Calum returning her feelings. Odessa genuinely would not know what to do then; she wasn’t a selfish person—at least, she liked to think she wasn’t. But she had a feeling if she found out that Calum liked her back, she would become one, Paige be damned.

           That’s how it should’ve been in the first place. Odessa clenched her jaw, shushing the voice in her head that normally sounded reasonable. Right now, it was just asking for trouble.

           After drying her hands and smoothing down her dress, she exited the bathroom while bracing herself to head back downstairs, eyebrows raising when she heard a knock on the locked bedroom door. When Odessa opened it, she fought to keep her expression neutral when she saw Paige standing in the hallway. “Hey—I have to use the bathroom. Sierra said you’d let me in.”

           “Oh.” Odessa blinked, nodding. “Yeah, sure.”

           Paige stepped inside and Odessa glanced down at the key in her hand. Deciding she’d rather hand it off to Paige than wait for her, Odessa made to turn towards her, only to be cut off by Paige’s sharp voice. “Are you, like, into Calum?”

           Odessa gaped at her, mouth drying at the sudden question. She shouldn’t be surprised at Paige’s bluntness at this point, yet she still found herself freezing in shock. “I’m not—”

           “Come on, Odessa—don’t lie to me,” Paige cut her off with an empty scoff, shooting her a blank look. “It’s so obvious you’ve got a thing for him—you’re not doing a great job in hiding it.” She crossed her arms over her chest, even further accentuating the tight bodice of her Cruella de Vil costume. Odessa tried not to find irony in her costume. The smoky eyeshadow only seemed to intensify her sharp gaze and Odessa hated that she had to fight the urge to bristle. “So, seriously—what the hell is going on?”

           “I—nothing,” Odessa told her, stressing her answer. It was true enough—nothing was going on, not between her and Calum. But her own thoughts and feelings were her own. Odessa didn’t owe Paige any insight on what she was feeling. She hated that she even felt guilty about something she couldn’t quite control, but it wasn’t like she had acted on it. She was doing everything she could to respect that—and it was hard when she saw Calum five days out of the week; sometimes more if they saw each other on the weekend. The line between feeling platonic fondness and actual attraction—more than in just the physical sense—had blurred and Odessa couldn’t hope to figure out when. “Calum and I are just friends, Paige. It’s not like that.”

           Paige scoffed again, utterly unimpressed as she rolled her hazel eyes. “Either you think I’m an idiot, or you genuinely have no idea how obvious your feelings for him are.” Her tone turned mocking. “The whole work husband-wife thing, these costumes? It’s pathetic, Odessa.”

           Air caught in Odessa’s throat, and she wasn’t sure if it tightened from anger or her suppressing the need to harshly scoff. She was calling Odessa pathetic? It was both ironic and hypocritical of Paige to deem Odessa as such, not when she practically latched onto Calum whenever they were in the same room. Paige wouldn’t be mouthing off so much if she knew whatever she was trying to accuse Odessa of was actually all Calum’s doing.

           And, God, Odessa absolutely loathed that she was shitting on another woman over a guy—hated that she was thinking lowly of Paige at all, despite the other having no problem in making Odessa feel like that. She never did—not back in college, nor now. But Odessa had never stooped to Paige’s level; she always kept her bitter and annoyed thoughts to herself, and even then, scolded herself for ever thinking them. She wanted to be better than how people like Paige treated her. And, sure, no one would know what Odessa was thinking but herself, but it still made her feel guilty.

           Her aggravated thoughts and the music playing throughout the house did little to drown out Paige’s words from Odessa’s head, and she bit the inside of her lower lip at the heat flooded her face once more. No. She couldn’t let Paige get to her. At the very least, she couldn’t let Paige show that she did. She wouldn’t let her have that kind of power over her.

           Odessa took in a breath through her nose, willing herself to calm down, at least for a moment. She didn’t like hurling insults and vicious words to someone else. Pushing past the guilt, anger, and embarrassment, she calmly repeated, “Calum and I are just friends, Paige.” With a lift of her chin, she added, “If you can’t accept that, then it’s not my problem. I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

           Paige’s lips parted, clearly caught off guard by Odessa’s words, a short huff of a breath escaping her. But instead of giving her the chance to respond, Odessa placed the key on the dresser next to her before turning and stepping out of the room. “Make sure you lock the door behind you,” she added before shutting it behind her and reintegrating herself into the thriving party.

           It was once the door was clicked shut behind her that Odessa let out a deep sigh. Some of the tension she inherently felt whenever she was around Paige left her body—not just because a door now separated them, but because the words Odessa had uttered seemed to have edged off some of her body’s rigidness permanently. Not all, but it was a start.

           Odessa frowned to herself as she made her way down the hall, moving around the few people lingering. She had no doubt that Paige’s words were coated in jealousy, she’d heard it in her voice, but that didn’t mean they didn’t startle Odessa. Especially adding onto Sierra and Crystal’s—albeit kinder—assumptions. When it came to letting her feelings, specifically in the romantic sense, be known, Odessa wasn’t an expert. She didn’t often get into relationships, mostly because she wasn’t the best in expressing who she wanted. Her last serious relationship had been in college, and although since then she’d taken her fair share part in hook up culture, true romance hadn’t really knocked on her door.

           Not that it had now, either. But even she couldn’t ignore her constantly growing feelings for Calum. And despite her efforts in trying to hide them, she hadn’t been entirely successful. Her childish embarrassment stemmed from her friends figuring out her feelings without her meaning to, and it led Odessa into wondering if Calum picked up on it, too. That’s what was embarrassing; not her feelings.

           Odessa shook her head as she went down the stairs. When was she going to stop letting Paige get into her head?

           More importantly—when was she going to move past the habit of keeping herself from indulging in her feelings?

           She reached the bottom of the stairs and her gaze went right to where she’d last seen her friends by one of the couches. Calum was grinning, drinking a White Claw, the smile on his face bright as he animatedly laughed at something deaf to Odessa’s ears. The sight of him made her chest tighten, her heart yearn. Odessa was completely oblivious to when and how she’d fallen for Calum so quickly, so fucking hard, and that sense of losing control was kind of terrifying. He made her smile so easily, made her feel at ease despite her roaring thoughts. Acknowledging the extent of her feelings for him should be exciting, right?

           She failed to swallow the lump in her throat. It seemed as though allowing herself to indulge in her feelings wouldn’t start tonight.

*****

           “You didn’t have to get up so early, Grams. I have Lettie to keep me company,” Odessa laughed lightly, scratching the top of the feline’s head as Grams poured herself some tea.

           “True, but this one doesn’t talk back much,” Grams responded, sitting down at the small table across from Odessa. It was early on Friday morning, and with it being a county holiday, it made for the perfect day to get a head start on the three day weekend trip to Big Bear Mountain. She would have to get to the high school soon to receive her bus roster and make sure all the students who were supposed to be in attendance were present. Grams’ eyes met Odessa’s. “There’s been something bothering you, baby, and I wanted to see if you wanted to talk about it before you left.”

           Odessa paused in absently stirring her bowl of Cheerios, frowning at her grandmother. “I don’t—I’m fine, Grams,” she said with a breezy laugh, hoping it sounded convincing.

           Her grandmother was perceptive, gazing at her unconvincingly. It was still early in the morning, the sun just slowly rising, and Odessa could see orange and red painting the sky as some sunlight streamed in through the window above the kitchen sink. “Something’s been on your mind, Odessa,” Grams pushed gently, the concerned look reappearing in her blue-grey eyes. “I don’t want you going away on this trip with something weighing you down. Maybe I can help.”

           Chewing her cereal, Odessa’s grip on the spoon tightened as she considered her grandmother’s words. She was right, of course; something was weighing her down, had been since Luke and Sierra’s Halloween party where she’d had her little confrontation with Paige. And where Odessa and Calum had won the couples part of the costume contest. Man, that had only pissed Paige off more, and Odessa kind of really hated she let the girl affect her so much.

           She really was pathetic, wasn’t she?

           “It’s just. . . Drama,” Odessa sighed, throat feeling dry despite the cold milk she was drinking. “Boy drama and girl drama and me being an idiot.”

           “You’re not an idiot,” Grams instantly chastised, a disapproving frown on her softly weathered face. “What drama?”

           Odessa twisted her lips to the side, frowning down at her nearly empty bowl. She’d been keeping all of this inside for so long—maybe talking to her grandmother would lessen whatever burden she felt on her shoulders. And heart. Maybe she’d see the light of herself being so fucking dramatic.

           “I like Calum.” It was a fact. A firm and true as the earth being round and the sky being blue. And yet, uttering out loud in the otherwise quiet of the kitchen, of confessing it to even just her grandmother—it felt like the fist that was wrapped around Odessa’s heart had loosened substantially. She thought of Calum, and she not only pictured his warm eyes and kind smile, but his love for Toni Morrison and talent for writing beautiful songs as well as his loud passion for teaching and coaching. She saw the enthusiasm he taught with, the leadership he coached with, and the kindness he never left home without. He was gorgeous inside and out and Odessa liked him with every fiber of her being.

           As frightening as it was to admit that, it was just as freeing.

           “But so does Paige. I mean, I think she does—”

           “What do you mean, think?” Grams asked with a frown. Before that, though, Odessa hadn’t missed her smile when she uttered her own confession.

           Letting out a sigh, Odessa briefly explained the way Paige presented her attraction to Calum—how it seemed more physical and territorial than consisting of true feelings. Of course, Odessa also acknowledged that all of that was conjecture, because she didn’t truly know how Paige felt. She merely stated what she saw when she watched and listened to Paige talk about Calum. Odessa wouldn’t hold her own feelings above Paige’s, no matter how much she didn’t like her. The only thing Odessa could be sure of was her own feelings.

           “And I don’t—” Odessa let out a tired sigh. “I don’t want to have issues with another girl over a guy. It’s so juvenile and just not what I stand for, you know? But I like him a lot, Grams. Him being my coworker is complicated enough—but other than that, how could I even act on my feelings knowing that Paige is interested too?”

           Not to mention the fact that she and Calum had slept together already before. That was a fact Odessa tried to keep out of her mind as much as she could. Because if she were to dwell on it, the realization of Calum wanting to be with Paige over her would suffocate her unforgivingly. But, God, what if she was already setting herself up for an inevitable heartbreak?

           This is why she didn’t do feelings.

           “You’re making this far more complicated than it is, sweetheart.” Odessa’s eyes widened, gaping at Grams in disbelief. She was what? Grams’s expression sobered up, eyebrows lowering as she adopted a serious expression. “You’re not the other woman in this situation. As far as I can tell, there is no relationship between Calum and Paige that you’re disrupting. If you want to be with Calum, let him know, see how he feels. The worst he can do is tell you he wants to be friends, and you can stop focusing your attention on someone who doesn’t deserve it.” Grams scoffed, then. “Call me biased, but that boy would be crazy to not be interested in you, baby.”

           Odessa could feel her heart in her throat, despite logically knowing it was impossible. But some of Grams’s words had struck a chord—you’re not the other woman. Memories of her parents’ marriage falling apart flooded Odessa’s mind, remembering the unforgettable moments of her father’s secret family coming to light, watching as her parents’ already crumbling marriage turn into dust. Was that what Odessa was doing? Painting herself to be some kind of intruder infiltrating on Calum and Paige’s relationship—one that was very possibly just construed by Odessa’s own imagination and Paige’s fleeting comments—the way she always viewed her now-step-mother as in her parents’ marriage?

           The shaking guilt she felt suddenly made sense, and Odessa gasped before she could help it. Oh, yeah. Adolescent trauma loved screwing with one’s head, didn’t it?

           Her conversation with Grams was all that replayed in Odessa’s head as she drove to the school, not even bothering with the radio. Odessa chewed on her lower lip as she drove, frowning at herself for her behavior for the past week. She’d kept her interactions with Calum as minimal as she could; brief conversations in the teacher’s lounge, only passing hello’s in the hall, not waiting for him to come by her room after school when he didn’t have to coach soccer practice so they could walk to the parking lot together. If Calum picked up on her distancing actions, he didn’t make a comment on them, yet Odessa hadn’t missed the occasional frowns that drew together his eyebrows when she’d cut their conversations short by making up some excuse or another to get away.

           She was being childish. Unreasonable. Scared. Paige’s comments from the party had stung more than Odessa would care to admit, and she let it influence the way she was around Calum. Maybe, she had hoped, it would dull some of what she felt for him. It only seemed to do the opposite.

           What now, though? They were two of the six teacher chaperones for this trip. She couldn’t quite avoid him for the entire weekend. Did she even want to? Perhaps. Despite being vocal about her feelings—even if it was just to Grams—Odessa still needed to figure out whether or not she wanted to act on them, feeling the need to reconsider her course of action. In a confusing and twisted sense, being around Calum would only make the deciding process all the more muddled.

           Odessa sighed. She was being crazy. But it made sense to her and, at the end of the day, she was learning that that’s what mattered.

           Between seven-thirty and eight-thirty, the time passed quickly as students and teachers arrived to the school, all carrying duffels and small carry-ons containing their weekend belongings. Odessa stood by Diana Vogel, a biology teacher and one of the other chaperones, as the two chatted about the trip and having to sit on a two hour bus ride with dozens of students. Hopefully the early morning would allow for many of them to get some more sleep.

           Slowly, as the parking lot filled with more students arriving, it grew bustling, the air filled with a low hum of chatter as everyone waited for attendance and to board the waiting charter buses. Odessa passed her time by chatting with Diana, with some students, and at one point her gaze wandered over to a familiar black SUV pulling into its designated parking spot, and Odessa was only absently listening to Diana talk about her excitement to see snow as she watched Calum step out of the vehicle. He looked comfortable in black track pants and a red hoodie, a small suitcase in hand as he greeted some of the soccer players who immediately went over to him.

           Their eyes met from where they stood, a distance between them that could easily be closed, but Odessa remained put. Her moment alone with her thoughts on the drive to school hadn’t really helped her reach a decision of what she wanted to do. Distance was good. Distance would help.

           Even if the frown on Calum’s face she caught before breaking their gaze had her chest tightening.

           Soon enough, once everyone had seemed to arrive, Mrs. Greggs—who was also the freshman advisor and who was ultimately in charge—distributed lists to all of the other chaperones which consisted of which bus was theirs, which students were to be on it, and who their chaperone partner was.

           Odessa glanced down at the list and bit back a curse. Calum’s name stared back at her and at this point, Odessa wasn’t quite sure if the universe was on her side or against it.

           She glanced up, as if feeling Calum’s gaze on her, their eyes locking for a moment. He offered a small smile and Odessa hated that he hesitated in showing her it, a reminder how her self imposed distancing from Calum was effecting him too, and she mustered up a smile back. It was always so easy to smile at Calum. Why was she making things so difficult for them? For herself?

           “Alright—load ’em up!” Mrs. Greggs announced after anyone who needed to quickly go to the bathroom returned, gesturing towards the buses.

           As she neared the bus she was to go on, Odessa saw Calum standing by the compartments where everyone was going to toss in their carry-ons and duffel bags, and he looked at Odessa as she neared them. “I’ll help them with the bags, you go on the bus?” he questioned, raising an eyebrow to see if that was okay with her.

           Odessa nodded, pressing her lips together and offering a smile at the same time. “Sounds good,” she said, pulling her carry-on forward.

           Calum reached out. “I got it,” he said, and Odessa’s heart thumped as he took it from her before carefully placing it in the compartment.

           She thanked him quietly, unsure if he even heard as he helped one of the girls with hers, and Odessa boarded the bus with a smile towards the bus driver. She and Calum were to sit in the front, so she claimed the two front right seats, back against the window and list in hand as she watched students board the bus. They were all talkative as they did so, some making sure to greet her, and Odessa smiled in return as she took in some of the faces that were familiar and others that were not. She only taught freshman and sophomores, and since this trip was for juniors and seniors, the only students she knew were ones she’d occasionally see in the hallway, the soccer players, or the students she’d see at the games.

           She watched as students settled next to their friends on the seats, chattering away in a quiet excitement about the trip. Though, she had been right—Odessa definitely picked up on several students looking forward to sleeping on the drive there.

           Calum was the last one to get on the bus, and once he stood by Odessa, he called for all the students’ attention, effectively silencing them, and Odessa then proceeded to call out attendance to make sure everyone who needed to be on the bus was present. Odessa focused on the task at hand rather than Calum standing right next to her, until it was done, and Mrs. Greggs came by to check if everything was ready.

           About five minutes later, they had left the school, which meant for Odessa and Calum to be seated together for the next two hours and fifteen minutes. She kept her gaze out the window, watching as they passed by buildings and cars and people, trying her hardest not to focus on the tension between her and Calum she knew she was at fault for. Why was it difficult for her to continue to just act normal, be friends, instead of making things awkward by instilling some distance between them? How was that going to help?

           She knew she was being kind of ridiculous. And yet, she didn’t stop herself.

           Odessa couldn’t block out both of her ears to listen to keep herself occupied, given that she had to chaperone the students, so she merely put an earbud in her left ear, the closest to Calum, and began watching an episode of Dead to Me. She’s all too aware of Calum next to her, who’s pulled out a book to read. Odessa wished she could read something—the only transportation she could read a book on was a plane. Reading while in a car, bus, or train left her feeling lightheaded. Which, as a woman who enjoyed reading more than anything else, was quite frustrating.

           A little over an hour into the drive, Odessa was still watching her show and Calum was still reading his book, and despite herself, she wondered why he hadn’t tried to make conversation yet. The bus was relatively quiet; most of the students opted to catch up on some sleep, and those who were awake conversed in hushed tones. All Odessa could really hear, apart from the hum of the bus engine, was the audio from the show she was watching and the occasional scratch of a page turning when Calum was finished with it. His focus was only on what he read, never glancing at her once. And wasn’t that what she wanted? For there to be space?

           Odessa’s grip on her phone tightened. All she could do was watch her show and try not to think of Calum’s familiar cologne wafting over to her, or focus on the way his thigh occasionally brushed against hers where they sat. Grams’s words from earlier echoed through Odessa’s mind, overpowering the audio of the show. If you want to be with Calum, let him know.

           She glanced at him. His gaze was lowered to the book he was reading, features settled into a soft neutrality, eyelashes brushing his cheekbones every time he blinked. Blonde curls fell across his forehead and her fingers itched to brush them away. Odessa quickly looked backed to her phone just as his head ever so slightly turned towards her, cheeks on fire when she knew he’d caught her staring, could feel his gaze on her. Her throat worked, purposefully freezing her gaze on the screen.

           Fuck. What was she doing?

--

tags: @irwinkitten​ @sweetcherrymike​ @astroashtonio​ @loveroflrh​ @meetashthere​ @loverofhood​ @captain-what-is-going-on​ @angelbbycal​ @singt0mecalum​ @hopelessxcynic​ @lfwallscouldtalk​ @bodhi-black​ @findingliam-o​ @softlrh​ @highfivecalum​ @malumsmermaid​ @erikamarie41​ @quintodosuniversos​ @longlastingdaydream​ @babylon-corgis​ @lukehemmingsunflower​ @miss-saltwatercowgirl​ @pastelpapermoons​ @conquerwhatliesahead92​ @rotten-kandy​ @metangi​ @neigcthood​ @ohhmuke​ @mindkaleidoscope​ @5sos-and-hessa​ @trustmeimawhalebiologist​ @vxlentinecal​ @pettybassists​ @vaporshawn​ @lu-my-golden-boi​ @visualm3nte​ @isabella-mae13​ @dontjinx-it​ @lifeakaharry​ @neonweeknds​ @antisocialbandmate @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave​ @calpalbby​ @grreatgooglymoogly​ @sunnysidesblog​ @miahelizaaabeth​ @dramallamawithsparkles​ @kaytiebug14​ @hoodskillerqueen​ @bitchinbabylon​ @empathycth​ @xhaileyreneex​ @inlovehoodx​ @bloodlinecal​ @sublimehood​ @madbomb​ @raabiac​ @britnicole11​ @outofmylimitcal​ @wildflower-cth​ @wildflowergrae​ @bloodmoonashton​ @vxidhood​ @gosh-im-short​ @thesubtweeter​ @mycollectionofnuts​ @cthwldflwr​ @everyscarisahealingplace​ @socorroann​ @talkfastromance4​ @calumftduke​ @musichoney​ @treatallwithkindness​ @partlysunnycal​ @dead-and-golden​ @kaeleykaeley​ @harrys-sun-flower​ @br-hoe​  

[di0rtaeyong]

1 Sided Love

➸ summary: Mark breaks up with you, leaving you reminiscing. finally having the courage to face him again, you both to rethink your situation. based on ‘1 Sided Love’ by blackbear. 

➸ genre: college nct!, angst, drama, fluff

➸ word count: 9.5k

➸ warnings: breakups, crying, alcohol use and mention, marijuana use, suggestive scene (?).

➸ authors note: thank you for reading this! this is my first time writing a story this long, i hope you like it!

➸ media:  click here for song

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

 ACT 1

I swear lettin' you down, lettin' you down is hard enough…

… When it's one-sided, one-sided, one-sided love…

…Our time is, our time is, our time is up…

…Is your heart worth breakin'?

 “We need to talk”.

Everyone resents those dreaded words. They are never followed by anything positive and more often than not left someone in tears, especially when your boyfriend of two years says it to you, nervous energy radiating off of him and refusing to make eye contact.

Mark had always calmed you down. Even when he was the one mad at you, there was something about him that allowed you to keep your cool and listen to him. You were an easy crier, so having someone like Mark allowed you to practice keeping your cool. In a way you had thought Mark was your soulmate.

“Hi,” he barely whispered, still refusing to make eye contact as you both settled into your chairs in the corner of the room. He nervously twiddled with his fingers, so you reached out to grab them and interlock fingers as you had done millions of times before.

Only this time Mark flinched away which cause you to pull your hand quickly and a deep furrow form between your eyebrows.

“You okay?” you asked Mark cautiously, trying to offer a comforting smile. He had never refused to hold your hand before. It was one of the only PDA action’s that both of you felt comfortable with, the innocence in your relationship still giving you both a youthful glow.

“You wanna get a drink? I’ll get you one. The last time we came here was with Hyuck, remember? You guys got the lemon tea; I knew none of you would like it but you both insisted… I’ll get you the choc- “

“Y/N.” he said firmly. He had never used this tone with you and frankly you were more curious than scared. Mark didn’t scare you. Mark was a lot of things but scary he was not. He was always there for you. He would alw-

“I think we should break up.”

If the world had ended right there and then it wouldn’t have made a difference to you because what you felt like inside was a hundred times worse.

“I- Uh- What?” you asked stupidly.

“Do you not feel it, Y/N?”, Mark asked finally looking me in the eye. The tears were starting to well up and Mark knew how much you hated crying in front of other people. But he wasn’t just ‘other people’. He was Mark and you would allow yourself to cry in front of him because he loved you and you loved him. Right?

“What are you talking about, Mark? Is this some stupid joke Donghyuck is making you do? Because it’s not funny.” You said through your teeth trying to swallow the lump in your throat that seemed to really want to ruin your strong demeanor.

Watching you try to keep yourself composed and doing nothing about it was one of the hardest thing’s Mark has ever done. He so badly wanted to reach out to you, brush away the hot tears you fought so hard to blink back and hold you against his chest as he had done over a thousand times over the past two years.

You had fallen for Mark a while before you had started dating, begging Jeno to introduce you to his ‘cute older friend’ who just so happened to be working as a children’s basketball camp coach the summer before you went off to university.

Jeno finally caved when you annoyed him enough and introduced you quickly and with no enthusiasm (“Y/N this is Mark, Mark this is Y/N, can we please go now?”). And it was that moment where you knew you wouldn’t be able to get rid of the hearts in your eyes that easily.

You had initially thought Mark was way too perfect if you were being honest. He was fit (played on his school’s basketball team), he was smart (he had gotten Dean’s list), he was good with kids (hence summer camp coach), and he was nice. He was so many things that you could go on and on about (which you did, which led Jeno to literally pay you to shut up about Mark- “Here’s a ten, it better be enough.”- which you happily allowed him to do).

After Jeno had introduced you, you and Mark had instantly hit it off. Never before had you felt like this around any boy. Of course, you had your fair share of crushes, but Mark felt different. He made you laugh in ways that made your stomach churn with more than laughter and made your head spin with happiness and your heart ache every time you parted. It was early but if you were being honest, you were in love. And you had fell hard.

But as the summer ended, you were forced to part ways with Mark. You were both getting ready to go off to university, Mark entering his second year, you your first. Countless nights spent with Mark were full with the both of you sharing your fears and dreams as you sat in the trunk of his dad’s van looking up into the sky eating melted ice cream he would buy you from McDonald’s every Monday and Wednesday night after work.

You had heard so many reassurances from him since the day you met him, that when he suggested something negative it really took you by surprise. Him telling he thinks you two should break up? Surely there must have been something you misheard.

“Y/N? You still there?”. Your gaze snapped to Mark and you finally took in his appearance.

His hair was pushed back off his face but under his eyes were dark circles from late nights and his nose was slightly red. He was wearing a black hoodie, one of your personal favourites to ‘borrow’, paired with his worn-out jeans you silently loved on him. You couldn’t see his feet but you knew he was wearing the pair of black and white Converse you had bought him for his birthday using your whole pay cheque the summer you worked together at the community centre. Jeno had laughed at you, saying you were ‘whipped’ and the expression on Mark’s face when you gave him the shoes definitely made you realize that yes, you were whipped.

Mark had spent the whole month of July talking about how he wanted new Converse, but he was trying to pay for some stuff for school, so he was waiting it out. The day after he had brought it up to you, you couldn’t help but go off to the mall and buy his size. You had regretted it the minute after you did it thinking it was too overbearing, too affectionate for someone you had just met. But when you saw the look on his face when you gave them to him eased your worries as you mirrored the smile he gave you.

What your eyes decided to focus on was his left hand, more specifically his ring finger.

The steal band still wrapped around his finger, the more delicate equivalent present on your own ring finger. The engraved initials inside the band seemed to burn against your skin.

“You’re wearing it.” You stated simply. You didn’t want to talk too much in case your voice decided to crack.

Following your line of vision, Mark focused on the ring. “Yeah. It’s a habit now I guess.”

Mark and you had exchanged these rings on the night of your second anniversary. You had mentioned you had wanted something to show Mark off (‘as a joke’ you had insisted) even when he wasn’t there, and Mark suggested rings. Sputtering out an explanation about how you were both too young to get married and to ignore him, you grabbed his hand and interlocked fingers with him. “I think that’s a great idea”.

The memory left you smiling, meeting Mark’s eyes seeing him holding a reminiscing smile as well as he played with the ring.

“Y/N…” Mark started.

“Why do you want to break up, Mark? I thought we were happy?” you whispered.

“I know, I know Y/N, we were, uh, we are, but… like… there’s so much on my plate right now you know school and the team and internships and summer jobs and you! You’re going to be even more busy and we’ll hardly see each other and- “,

“Mark, that sounds so stupid. We can just work with each others’ schedules, its not a big deal.” You said, trying not to sound desperate.

“Y/N… I don’t know how to put this…” he said, struggling to find the right words.

You were getting agitated. “Well spit it out. Say what you want then,” you said angerly.

“Okay well… umm… I umm…” he said looking down at his lap.

“Mark. Just say it.” You said blankly.

“Well… um… I’m not in love with you anymore.”

“Mark- “, but your words were caught in your throat. If earlier you felt like the world was ending, right now would be described as one million times worse.

Your ears started ringing and the room suddenly started feeling way too hot for an early September night. Your vision blurred slightly as you felt hot tears stream down your face uncontrollably.

“I have to go.” You said standing up way too quickly. The room spun with your actions and black spots danced in your vision.

“Y/N, wait, can we just talk?” Mark pleaded quickly, standing up.

A few minutes ago, you would have found your height differences endearing, adding to the long list of things you loved about him. He was always a few inches taller than you which you had always loved but now it made you feel as if he was further away than ever.

“Mark, I think that’s all you needed to say. Maybe we can talk again another day?” You proposed, knowing full well you would not be able to face Mark again without feeling that horrible lump in your throat.

Staring deeply at you for a while, he said “Yeah. Yeah, yeah that’s fine. Can I walk you home? It’s late.”

It’s 8:30, you wanted to say. It’s not late. Its not too late to think about us.

But the words didn’t come out. You just nodded your head knowing Mark wouldn’t take no for an answer and you also didn’t trust your voice.

Quickly picking up your stuff you rushed out before you could hear Mark say something about you going to fast.

‘That’s not us anymore’, you thought. You would no longer hear Mark complaining close behind you as you walked at a quick pace, would no longer laugh as he ran up and grabbed your hand swinging your arms in pure bliss.

Hearing rustling behind you, you glanced behind to see Mark rushing out to catch up with you and tears brimmed your eyes. What went wrong?

As you walked in silence for a while, focused on only the road ahead you tried to block out Mark’s warm presence next to you and the cold wind biting at your uncovered arms, the t-shirt you were wearing not doing anything to block the wind.

“Here take my sweater, you’re gonna get sick.” Mark said already pulling it off his body and handing it to you.

Weakly shaking your head in protest, you tried not to focus on the heat radiating from Mark and tried to focus on the road ahead. You were almost home. Just a little longer and yo-

“Y/N.” Mark said. You were starting to really hate this tone. He grabbed your hand and forced you to turn towards him. He struggled to slip your arms through the holes as you left your limbs limp, refusing to look at his face.

Pulling the sweater over your head and pulling your hair out cautiously he muttered, in his own world not aware that you could hear him mumbling to himself. Nothing coherent but you were always aware that Mark talked to himself a lot, a sound that used to soothe your mind now making your heart twist in a way that could only be described as immense pain.

When the sweater was on and Mark retracted his hands, you didn’t hesitate to turn around fast on your heel and continue your borderline run home.

Quicker than usual you arrived home. The porch light seemed to be almost mocking you as it shone in the autumn night. ‘Almost there.’ You thought to yourself. You wanted to be inside your warm house so bad. Wanted to be in your bed, despite knowing you would not be able to control your tears once your head hit the pillow. You just wanted to be anywhere that wasn’t with Mark.

Turning around you finally looked at his face. His eyes were red, and hands curled into fists in order to keep his fingers warm. This would usually be the time you reached out with a laugh and hug him, rubbing his arms and back of his neck as you tried to share your body heat. But those times were over.

“Here, take your sweater back.” You said breaking the staring contest you were both participating in. As you went to pull it over your head, he stopped you.

“Keep it, its going to keep getting colder.”

“I have my own sweaters.”

“I know, but I know you loved borrowing this one.”

Love, you thought bitterly.

Sighing, you blinked quickly to get rid of more tears that started forming. Turning to face your house you muttered, “Bye then.”.

Staring at you for a long moment, a deep expression on his face, you knew he was going to say something that would only break your heart further. Something like “One last hug?” or “Can I at least get a kiss goodbye?” so you didn’t wait for him to say anything at all.

You made your way to the door, and while unlocking it, you paused.

Taking a deep breath, you used any and all strength in your body to turn around and see if Mark was still there. You knew he would be. He always waited until you got inside and would wait for a text to see if you got in alright. Tonight, he would wait for you to go inside but there would be no text following.

Making eye contact you mustered up the best smile you could, a small quirk of your lips, as you waved to Mark.

“See you when I see you!” He called, sad smile on his lips.

“See you when I see you,” you repeated lowly, turning back to open your door letting yourself in. You didn’t stop moving until you were inside, door locked, ignoring your mom’s questions about how your night was, wondering why you were back earlier than you told her.

You didn’t stop until you were in your bedroom, shutting the door quietly and climbing into bed.

You didn’t stop crying until there were no tears left and you could see the sun rising in the sky.

You didn’t stop loving Mark even though it caused every piece of your being to ache because he was Mark and no matter what he did you knew he was going to be a presence in your soul no matter how much you hated to admit it.

One-sided, one-sided, one-sided love.

                                          ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ 

ACT 2

You’re too busy talking over me to hear what I’m sayin’

You’re too high to realize I see through the smile that you're fakin’

You're so into yourself, everyone else is overrated

And everything’s changing; is your heart worth breakin'?

 You opened your eyes, sun peaking through your blinds, causing the throbbing in your head to worsen. The buzzing from your phone also didn’t help and your roommate/ friend seemed to agree.  

“Pick up your damn phone before I throw it out the window.” Snapped Raven, pulling the blanket over her head.

Groaning, you stretched your arm across the bed with your eyes closed trying to feel for it under the mess of blankets.

Letting out a sign of relief when you finally grasped it, you swiped, accepting the call with your eyes still closed, hitting the speaker button by accident.

“Y/NNNNNNNN!!!”, sang the most irritating voice you could have possibly heard at 10 am, hungover on a Saturday morning.

“Tell Donghyuck to shut the fuck up, Y/N, I can hear him from over here!” shouted Raven angerly, muffled by the blankets.

“Donghyuck do you have to be so fucking loud? Its early and I have a huge headache,” You said into the phone, cracking an eye open to glance at the caller ID. “, Also why are you calling me from Jeno’s phone?”.

You heard some shuffling and some yelling that sounded faintly like “give me my phone back you fucking-“ and then you heard what you assumed to be a pillow hitting a body and finally Jeno’s voice.

“Y/N! Good morning!” He chirped. You wanted to wince at his tone, but his positive energy always made you smile no matter the mood you were in.

“Hiiiiiiii”, you drawled, resulting in a groan from Raven and laugh from Jeno. “, To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Well I wanted to ask- “

“WE!!! Wanted to ask,” yelled Donghyuck.

“Ugh well, I guess we wanted to ask on behalf of Johnny- “

“Y/N you have to come to Johnny’s birthday party! Its gonna so fun and he’s gonna have drinks and- oh OW!” yelled Donghyuck followed by the sound of a pillow whacking a body again.

“Anyways, I wanted to know if you would come to Johnny’s birthday party with us. It’ll be fun and he’s gonna have drinks and food and stuff.” Said Jeno calmly.

“Hey! I literally just said that!”

“Yeah but she doesn’t want to listen to you, you fucking idiot” commented Jeno, hint of humour evident in his tone. You could practically see Hyuck pouting.

Johnny Suh was about five years older than Jeno, Donghyuck and yourself. You had first met him by accident when you ran into Jeno at the store back in seventh grade and you had decided to race shopping carts while your families did groceries. Picking a spot in the store where you thought there was no one you quickly started racing. Looking back to see if Jeno was going to beat you, you smiled triumphantly when you saw that he had stopped quite a few feet behind you. Turning back to the front you wondered why Jeno had stopped when you were faced with a tall figure and a display for toilet paper.

Desperately trying to stop your cart before you crashed into the display, or the tall boy, you managed to skid to a stop but not without taking down a few rows of the display. You had fallen right on your bottom, ache quickly spreading through your body as you heard Jeno run up behind you.

“I’m so sorry we didn’t mean to, we were just- “

“It’s fine. Just clean up. Are you okay?” Was he talking to you? You couldn’t tell through the stinging pain on your palms and ache in the bottom half of your body. His voice was deeper than you expected and his hair way too long, covering his entire forehead, swept to the side reaching his left eye and his outstretched hand looking way too big for his lanky body.

Looking from his hand and back up to his face you couldn’t stop the blush spreading across your face. You knew him. You had heard your older family-friends who lived in the area talking about ‘John Suh’, who went by Johnny to friends, and how he was so nice, so involved, so handsome and a senior in your future high school.

Hearing Jeno scoff made you snap out of your trance, charming smile (as charming as a twelve year old could muster) on your face as you grabbed John Suh’s hand and he pulled you up.

“Thank you so much! I am sorry about the display, Jeno and I will fix it!” I exclaimed quickly, smile never leaving my face.

Fixing his grocery store uniform shirt and flicking his hair off his face, John Suh offered you what you had thought at the time was the most amazing smile in the whole world, and agreed to let you do so as he had to go to the registrar’s.

“Hey, thanks again, um sorry, I didn’t catch your name?” John Suh asked looking directly in your eyes.

“Um- I uh- uh…” I stuttered. Was a senior really asking for my name? The senior in question being John Suh?!

“Its Y/N.” Jeno answered for you, annoyance laced in his tone. You could practically feel him rolling his eyes but that did nothing to ruin your mood.

“Well thanks Y/N! Be careful next time!” said John Suh. Smiling you nodded enthusiastically, not missing the way John Suh walked past Jeno, ruffling his hair, telling him to stay out of trouble.

Waving to him until he was gone, you turned angerly on your heel to face Jeno. He was making retching sounds behind you, acting out throwing up.

“Y/N, you are so lame! ‘Thank you so much, Johnny who I am most clearly in love with! I will clean up anything you ask!’” said Jeno, raising his voice a few octaves in imitation of yours.

“Shut up! First of all, why would you not tell me you know John Suh?! And that you’re close enough to call him Johnny?! Also, second of all, I do not talk like that!”

Making the talking motion with his hand, Jeno just walked by you and started picking up the toilet paper you had forgotten about.

Following his actions, you bent down to pick up a few rolls, not waiting a moment to keep bothering Jeno. “Hellooooooooooooooo. Please tell me how you know John Suh! Why wouldn’t you tell me?!” you asked as if it was vital information tethered to your life-line.

“Ugh, Y/N, I don’t know it just never came up. I’ve known him for a few years, our moms are friends. Happy?”, picking up the last roll and stacking it the same way it was before your cart collided with the display.

“Delighted.” You said.

Now in present day, you now called John Suh ‘Johnny’, much to the delight of your twelve-year-old heart. He was now one of your closest friends and confidants, or perhaps was. You had run into Johnny a few times after the grocery store incident but at the end of your seventh-grade year Johnny was to head off to university. Girls in your area, including yourself, were saddened by the loss, Jeno pretending to be disgusted whenever you complained. It wasn’t until the summer you worked at the community centre that you had gotten close to Johnny.

Mark had brought up a bon fire his older friends were throwing, inviting you to come claiming everyone there would love if you came.

After some coaxing you finally agreed to go, not without Raven, Jeno, and Donghyuck (both who were already invited because they knew the host. Jeno wouldn’t tell you who’s party it was) by your side as Mark opened the front door to greet you guys.

“Everyone’s in the back, guys you can leave your stuff in Johnny’s room.” Said Mark to Jeno and Donghyuck.

Nodding and walking off, the two boys started walking away to leave their stuff in Joh-

“Wait, who’s house is this?!” you asked worried, looking nervously at Mark.

“Oh, I thought you already knew. Jeno said you guys knew each other. It’s Johnny’s house.”

You inwardly groaned. You looked at Raven for help, but all you got was a nervous smile. She was as nervous as you. This was a party. A party with college guys, and their college antics, and Mark, and-

“Lets GOOOOOOO!” yelled Donghyuck, bolting down the stairs towards the back door.

“You ready?” Mark asked you and Raven as you made your way to the door, nodding but not missing the insulting comment Raven made about Hyuck. Snickering as you crossed through the door back into the hot night of July, you walked smack into a brick wall.

Well this brick wall was much softer than a brick wall, and also just so happened to not be a brick wall and rather the strong and broad chest of John Suh.

“Y/N! I’m so happy you could make it! Mark has been talking about you all summer, I was so happy when he said you were coming!” exclaimed John Suh, arms embracing you like old friends. Awkwardly returning the hug you tried to calm your thoughts; ‘John Suh was hugging me. The John Suh. Wait till I tell- Wait Mark talked about me?’

Moving to greet Raven, you heard him introduce himself “Hi! You must be Y/N’s friend. Hyuck doesn’t stop talking about you. I’m Johnny!” he said to her charming as ever and you already knew the earful of gushing you would hear after the party.

During the party you had met many of Johnny’s university friends; Yuta, a quiet guy with the nicest hair you had ever seen, Taeyong, a shorter, skinner man who had a precious smile and Jaehyun, two years younger than Johnny with one of the most handsome faces you had ever seen and the most delicious build.

The bonfire had been a lot of fun. Mark hardly left your side which you didn’t mind at all, even offering you his sweater when it got chilly. Laughs were exchanged and everyone was so welcoming towards Raven and you, you couldn’t help but feel disappointed when it was time to leave.

All of the boys bid you and Raven goodbye, tights hugs filled with well wishes and see you soon’s and beer and expensive cologne. Mark insisted on walking you both out, accompanied by a grumbling Donghyuck who only got up when Jeno elbowed him in the stomach with a pointed look.

Walking slowly behind Raven and Donghyuck, trying to block out the sounds of their bickering, you turned to Mark, speaking in a low tone. “Thanks for inviting us tonight. It was really fun.”

“I’m glad you came… it was really nice to have you here with me- uh I mean with us! It was really nice to have you here with all of us you know all the guys a-“

Laughing, you gently nudged Mark with your shoulder. Feeling brave you replied, “It was really nice to be here with you too, Mark.”

Finally reaching the front door which was left open courtesy of Raven and Donghyuck who had taken their bickering to the front lawn.

“Y/N… umm what I umm really wanted to umm say to you was… umm….” Began Mark, rubbing the back of his neck with his left hand.

You were about to prompt him to continue when you were both interrupted by a semi-drunk Donghyuck, “Mark did you confess already? I really can’t keep talking to this one, she’s annoying the shit out of me,” jutting out his thumb in Raven’s direction.

With your ears ringing, you watched as Mark turned to you slowly, eyes wide and mouth agape, while Raven scoffed and started a string of curse words directed at Donghyuck.

“Um so yeah… I wanted to tell you that umm… I like you. Yeah, umm you don’t have to say anything right now… damn, I’m sorry, I really didn’t want it to be this way, I- “

You suddenly grabbed his right hand, pulling him down to your height and planting a quick kiss to his cheek.

A blush spread almost instantly at the contact across Mark’s face to the tips of his ears and started opening and closing his mouth like a fish.

Face hot you whispered a quick goodbye to Mark walking briskly out the door to your car. Hearing rustling as you tried to pull out your key, you were about to ask Raven why she was coming to the driver's side, but you were met but a warm hand on your wrist-twisting you around and warm, nervous lips meeting yours.

You took in Mark’s face for a few milliseconds, bangs blowing in the summer night wind right before closing your eyes and enjoying the feeling of Mark’s lips on yours.

Everything seemed to be happening in your own world, you almost missed Donghyuk yelping and pulling out his phone. Flash going off, Mark and you separated, sheepish smiles on your faces as you avoided eye contact with each other.

Taking the keys from your hand, Raven pushed you away from the driver’s door and plopped herself down behind the wheel. “Bye Mark! It was great seeing you!” she quipped with a smirk, starting the ignition.

Walking to the passenger’s side, Mark and you talked quietly and minimally.

“I’ll text you? See you Monday?”

“Eight am, as always.” you had replied happily.

“Y/N? You still there?” spoke Jeno, bringing you back to the present day.

“Ah, yeah Jeno I’m here, sorry just spaced out. What was the question?” you asked. ‘Ugh why does everything make me think of Mark? Its been months…’ you thought to yourself.

“Hyuck and I wanted to know if you were gonna come to Johnny’s birthday party. It's not formal, just at his house but he would love to have you there. We haven’t seen you in ages.” Jeno said, a hint of sadness in his voice.

It was true you had not seen your friends in a while. The last time you were all together was at the end of August, followed by the… Mark incident in September. After that, you had limited interactions with mutual friends (including Jeno) and skipping out on birthday’s (including Yuta’s; you told him you were swamped with work and would make it up to him, to which he just responded with a thumbs-up emoji) and even the Christmas and New Years parties.

You knew Johnny would definitely be disappointed if you didn’t go…

“Yeah Jeno, of course, I’ll come! Can’t wait!”.

                                                   ~

 You now stood in front of the floor-length mirror hanging on your shared bathroom door pulling at the hem of your short black dress the following Friday night.

“Raven, are you sure this isn’t too much? Or too short? Jeno said it was casual…” you complained to your friend for the hundredth time that night. And you hadn’t even left yet.

Stilling her hand that was applying highlighter she groaned. “Y/N for the millionth time, you look fine. But you know if you really want to change go ahead. But you look great.”

‘That’s because you picked the dress,’ you groaned inwardly.

Slipping on your shoes, you waited for Raven to finish up. You both debated bringing jackets but opted not to because they would just ruin your outfits and be a hassle to carry.

The cab ride to Johnny’s house was uneventful, just on your phone, watching Snapchats Jeno had already sent you.

Midway through the long thread of videos you witnessed Donghyuck snatching the phone out of Jeno’s hand and running off. He was probably already drunk from the way he was talking but the laugh you were about to let out got stuck in your throat.

“MAAARRRRKKKKK!!!!” you heard from your phone as you watched the video. The camera turned to face Mark who laughed at the camera and wrapped his arm around Donghyuck’s shoulder.

Shutting your phone off you took in a deep breath. Of course, you knew Mark would be there. You knew but you refused to acknowledge. Living your life in ignorance since Jeno told you about the party had worked all up to this moment.

“It’ll be okay.” You heard Raven whisper, but you didn’t stop looking out the window until you were parked outside of Johnny’s house.

Paying the driver, you fiddled with your dress as you made your way up to the front door.

“Y/N, you’re completely sure you’re okay with this right? If not we can go home, its not a big- “

“No, its fine. I said I would be here so I’m here right? Besides we’re gonna get wasted!” you said, forcing a smile on your face.

With one last look at you, Raven rang the bell.

The thumping bass of the music could be heard from the end of the driveway, accompanied by loud yelling making you doubt that anyone would hear the bell until you saw the door finally crack open.

“Fin-allyyyy. I was waiting for youuuu.” Slurred Donghyuck as he opened the door for the two of you, Jeno following close behind him. The entire house smelt like alcohol and weed and sweat which suddenly had you feeling a lot more confident.

Hugging Donghyuck and Jeno, you made your way into the house, surprised Donghyuck and Raven had hugged and were actually talking civilly.

The kitchen was filled with faces familiar and not. “Y/N! Raven! You came!” yelled Johnny. He was currently standing over a shorter man who was lying shirtless on the island, pouring tequila into his belly button.

“Of course we came! We couldn’t miss John Suh’s birthday, could we?” you teased.

Groaning but holding a drunken smile on his face, he wrapped one arm around your shoulder and his other around Raven.  

Taking in his familiar cologne along with the scent of alcohol calmed your nerves a bit. You had almost forgotten what you were nervous about until you heard his name.

“Mark! Let’s take shots!”, yelled a good-looking boy (everyone here seemed to be attractive) who was sporting a nice shade of pink hair. You had never seen him before but by the way, he had himself practically hanging off of Mark made you think they were close.

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath. You were here for Johnny. To have a good time. You would not let your ex-boyfriend ruin that.

But when you opened your eyes, you found the familiar brown ones staring back at yours. He now had added blond highlights to his brown hair which looked surprisingly good (although you would never admit that out loud). He was wearing what looked like a varsity jacket and you instantly thought about how he was doing on the basketball team. Did they make it playoffs?

Seeing his mouth open shocked you back into reality. Looking ready to say something to you, you panicked. Spinning on your heel you looked back to see the shirtless man waiting impatiently for Johnny to continue the body shots.

“So, when can I start drinking?!” You laughed as you approached Johnny, back turned in Mark’s direction.

“Y/N…” you heard a voice whisper. You knew who it was.

“Ah, Johnny, where was she this whole time? Finally, some fun.” The man lying down said coyly. The smirk on his face would normally make you feel uneasy but was now the most amazing distraction.

“Y/N”, you heard a little louder now.

“So, where’s my drink?!” you practically shouted, trying to get away from any contact with your ex-boyfriend who you just so happened to still be in love with. Great.

“Right here, pretty girl.” Said the smirking, crazily attractive man, still lying on the counter and pointing to his belly button. There was a line off salt between his pectorals leading down to his navel, his defined but slim tan torso looking absolutely sinful.

“Y/N!” the dreaded voice said a bit louder, sounding way to close for you to think rationally.

Panicking and seeing no other way out, you stepped forward to the man on the countertop who was holding his head up with his hands behind his neck, smirk looking almost teasing as it did lazy.

You leaned forward to start at the bottom of the salt line, not forgetting to wet your tongue before sticking it out and licking up the salt all while holding your gaze with the man.

His body was warm and smelt slightly of what could only be a very expensive cologne. His gaze was inviting, combined with his scent making him almost so intoxicating you almost forgot the reason you were doing this.

You paused when your tongue reached the end of the salt line, spot closet to his face. Not saying anything he just jutted his chin out, reminding you to finish your mission.

Moving to his belly button you leaned your head to the side, landing it in the space between his navel and hip bone. Holding eye contact you noticed some of the tequila had spilt across his torso, moving to lick it up before it fell off his body. When you finally reached his navel and started lapping at the alcohol you felt his let out one shudder when you started, the only action in your whole interaction that led you to believe he might not be as cocky as he wanted to come off as.

Finally, when you were done you stood back up and took the lemon he handed you. Sitting up he finally spoke. “Damn, didn’t think you had it in you, pretty girl.”.

His voice was higher than you expected, and held intoxicating tone, almost sounding like a cat talking to its prey. Trying to return the cool attitude, you tried to ignore the heat you were feeling all over your body. “Well, I’m full of surprises,” you said, voice coming out way more confident than you felt, much to your delight.

“Hm, well I hope I can be a witness to more surprises,” eyes never leaving yours, almost hypnotizing. “I’m Ten.”, he said, his hand reaching out to shake yours.

“Y/N.”, you returned, taking his hand.

Eyebrow quirked; he gave you a look that you really could not decipher. Then his signature smirk reappeared. You had almost started to think it was his permanent expression. “Enjoy the party, Miss Y/N.”, he practically purred as he slid off the counter and disappeared into the crowd.

You didn’t turn around to see if anyone specific was waiting for your whole spectacle to be over and practically skipped into the living room to find Raven.

Finding Raven was not a problem as she was standing on top of the living room table dancing to the Rihanna song that was blasting through the speakers at the moment.

As she danced, Donghyuck surprisingly close to her, she spotted you and let out a sound of happiness. Pretending to pull you with an invisible rope, you made your way over to her, laughing on your way there.

She was quick to pull you up to the table, but you didn’t plant your feet properly causing you to slip.

Certain you were going to land straight and knock your head, you were quickly caught by a pair of strong arms around your waist. Head falling against your hero’s shoulder you heard their voice, familiar velvet enticing your ears for the first time in months.

“You gotta be more careful, princess.” Yuta whispered in your ear, low tone wrapping its ways around your mind, fogging your thoughts.

“Yuta. Hi.” You said as he helped you down from the table. He looked almost the same as every time you saw him, handsome as ever with striking features and perfect teeth almost as if someone had taken the time to draw him to the utmost perfection. The biggest difference in his appearance was his hair; much longer than you remembered and dyed a bleach blond, only contributing to his good looks, and the lack of red tint and glazed over look in his eyes.

“Didn’t smoke yet?”, you asked really hoping he hadn’t.

“Was just about to head out. Joining me?”, he asked, lips curling up into his signature Cheshire smile. You had always thought he was hiding something when he smiled like that, always feeling like he knew something you didn’t.

Tapping Raven’s leg and signalling that you were going outside with Yuta. After she nodded you followed him to the back door, remembering the first time you ever walked through the doors and met Yuta for the first time.

Not saying anything you watched Yuta take out his blunt and light it, smell not waiting a second to infiltrate your nostrils.

Taking a deep breath in as Yuta took a drag, you basked in the smell, patiently waiting your turn.

Yuta turned to you, placing the blunt between your lips. Moving your hand up to reposition it, you brushed against his. Trying to block the wind with one hand, he brought the lighter up to the blunt keeping it there for a good few seconds.

“Surprised you came”, he said as you inhaled deeply.

Taking your time, you moved the blunt from your lips and inhaled as much as you could before letting the smoke out.

Feeling it immediately in your lungs, you started your coughing fit, handing the blunt back to Yuta, him just lighting it up again, waiting for you to recover.

When you were done, you turned to him expectantly. Taking the blunt from him, you placed it between your lips waiting for him to continue.

“Wasn’t sure to expect you or not,” he said as he lit the ashy end of the blunt for you.

Inhaling again, this time more smoothly, you made a confused face at him. Tapping out the embers that were starting to ruin the taste you replied, “I said I was coming, so of course I came.”

Yuta shrugged, hair falling around his shoulders, either the moonlight or the weed making him look like an angel.

Yuta just looked at you, face not saying much, or maybe it actually said a lot and you just had trouble reading him. You weren’t sure.

“Glad you did.” Was all you heard as you watched Yuta start to sway slightly.

“Was taking a tolerance break,” you explained when he raised his eyebrows at you. Two hits were usually not enough for you, but that was back when you were spending much more time with Yuta and did not have to pay for weed because he would never let you. “, That’s also strong as fuck.” You giggled.

Reaching out to take another hit, Yuta ignored your hands and just placed the blunt between your pouted lips. Opening them lightly to place the blunt properly you looked up to see Yuta much closer than you expected. Eyes that seemed to be staring into your soul, he leaned away to light the blunt and waited until you pulled the almost burnt out blunt away from your lips. Then he was back to his original position, so close that if you shifted a bit forward you would bump noses.

You slowly let out smoke from your mouth as you continued to stare at Yuta, always curious about his next actions, not really ever knowing what to expect.

Which never came because you were interrupted by the one person you were avoiding.

“Johnny wants everyone to come watch him cut his cake.”, said Mark, standing at the door, blatantly staring at you and Yuta, eyeing your proximity very carefully.

Stepping away from you, Yuta sighed dramatically, tone sounding almost teasing. “Ah well, we better go. Don’t want to miss anything important.” You didn’t miss his infamous smile, looking like he could see right through you.

He walked towards Mark who was still standing at the door frame, giving him the same smile he gave you and slipping past him into the warm house.

Despite feeling the cold wind prick at your exposed skin, you couldn’t bring yourself to move as Mark and you just stared at each other.

After what felt like hours but what must have actually been a few seconds, your gazes were broken but Yuta popping his head through the door, not minding Mark’s startled stance.

“Coming, Y/N?” he asked, faux innocence dripping from his voice.

Snapping out of your trance, you twisted your lips into the biggest smile you could muster and nodded and Yuta. Making your way towards the door you inhaled quickly before passing Mark so you didn’t have to smell his cologne when you walked by.

Mark turned to the side as you passed, your arm brushing his chest when you heard something about how you always forgot a jacket. Looking up to see if Mark had said something you saw his mouth in a thin line. Brushing off it as a part of your high, you grasped Yuta’s outstretched hand and allowed him to lead you to the kitchen where Johnny was waiting to cut his cake without looking back.

The kitchen was loud and hot, only accentuating your high. Donghyuck was quick to shove a red solo cup in your hand, demanding you finish it right this instance. Filled more than halfway, it reeked of vodka and about a splash of orange juice. There was so much vodka the juice only tinted the clear drink a very faint orange.

“You would be a horrible bartender,” you laughed at Donghyuck.

“I didn’t make you a drink to enjoy Y/N, I made you a drink to get DRUNK!”, words slurring together as he laughed with you.

Turing to Yuta, you saw him with a smirk and cocked eyebrow, challenging you. “Can you do it, Y/N? Or can you still not hold your drink?”.

Scoffing, you rolled your eyes. “I’m not an amateur, Yuta. You know that.”

Knowing the smirk would not leave his face, you smiled at Donghyuk. “Bottoms up!” you cheered as you downed the drink.

You didn’t stop chugging despite your body instantly warming and the feeling of bile in your throat. Finally reaching the end you slammed the cup down on the counter and let out a gag.

“Hyuck, that somehow tasted worse than usual.” You complained as Yuta kindly handed you a cup of actual juice.

“That’s because its Johnny’s Belvedere Silver! His parents gave it to him for his birthday, he was so drunk he handed me the bottle,” Donghyuck said, snickering in a sinister way.

“It’s not right to take advantage of the birthday boy.” Came a familiar, cat-like voice.

Ten, who was now wearing a white button-up (that was completely see-through), squeezed his way between Yuta and you, leaving you to press up against Donghyuck who did not seem aware of his surroundings at all. Returning Ten’s cunning smile with a genuine one of your own you felt the effects of the alcohol running through your system.

Looking around, a smile crossed your face as you recognized familiar faces. Johnny was currently deemed “unable to participate in festivities at the current moment and will rejoin the party in approximately ten minutes” by Jaehyun who didn’t fail to gather you in his arms when he finally made his way over to you. Two kisses pressed to your smiling cheeks, the feeling of guilt washing over you as you remembered you had not spoken to him since the summertime.

“Coming to my birthday party?”, he had asked you.

Handsome features struck you all over again, foggy feeling only increasing as you downed three shots while conversing with him.

After the third shot, you watched Jaehyun’s back retreat to go get Johnny when a head of yellow blond flashed before your eyes and were soon being pulled into a warm hug between skinny but toned arms.

“Y/N!”, exclaimed Taeyong. “I haven’t seen you in forever!” he hiccuped.

All you could do in response was laugh, hug him back, and tell him how good his hair looked.

“Let’s cut some cake!” yelled Johnny, practically being held up by Jaehyun.

Cheers were let-out around the kitchen as the crowd suddenly surged forward towards the counter. You were separated from Taeyong but spotted Donghyuck and Jeno from where you ended up. Attempting to make your way over to them, you stumbled, accidentally colliding with the very attractive pink-haired boy that was around Mark when you had first arrived.

“Careful now,” he smiled as he turned to you, gripping a shoulder so you didn’t topple over. Even if you were not as drunk as you were, you would have still smiled back just as wide as you were, trying to reciprocate the beautiful smile the boy was giving you.

“Johnny’s cutting his cake now, Jaemin.” Said the one person you were avoiding. Turning your head to the side so fast you could have got whiplash, you started up at Mark. Where had he come from?!

Before anyone could say anything, an off-tune rendition of Happy Birthday started, courtesy of Jaehyun. The pink-haired boy next to you, Jaemin, started singing loudly, smile still wide on his face as he watched Johnny laugh with glee, waving the knife a little too much.

From the corner of your eye you could see Mark, mouth moving with the words and eyes focused on his phone screen, recording Johnny. His lips were upturned slightly into small smile and hair falling into his eyes.

Snapping your eyes back towards the cake cutting in front of you, you chastised yourself for looking. You were supposed to be moving on, not staring at him!

Clapping with happiness after Johnny managed to cut his cake (not without whacking icing all over the counter) you turned around looking for your friends.

“Y/N can we talk?” you heard Mark say. Looking around you, you couldn’t see anyone you felt like sticking too, leaving you in a moment of panic. Not seeing a way out and senses hazy, you nodded at Mark.

Following him through the crowd you ignored his outstretched hand behind him to make sure you were keeping up with him and focused on the back of his neck.

He led you upstairs and into a bedroom you could only presume was Johnny’s; bikini calendar hiding behind the open closet door, high school graduation photo framed on the desk of him, Yuta and Taeyong. There were university photos including Jaehyun, Ten and many others you had seen downstairs. There was even some with you in them, the one standing out the most being the one taken at the first party you attended, the one where you were able to meet some of your favourite people in your life.  

It was a group photo, everyone standing far enough from the camera to make sure everyone was seen. You were sitting next to Mark on lawn chairs, hair in two French braids (courtesy of Raven who had given Yuta a braiding tutorial earlier that night) and wearing Mark’s grey zip-up hoodie. You had leaned into Mark, head titled, almost resting on his, broad grins across your faces. On the arms of the chairs, you could see yours and Mark’s hands resting very close to each other.

Not realizing you had been staring for so long, you were only knocked back to reality when Mark picked up the frame, shifting your line of vision.

“This night was really fun,” he started, smiling done at the photo. “, It was one of our favourite times together.” He said much more softly.

Sighing, you suddenly felt the room start spinning and a crushing feeling against your skull. Moving towards the bed you heard him ask, “You good?”.

You absolutely despised the genuine concern oozing from his voice.

Sitting on the bed, you attempted lying down but your dress kept riding up. Regretting the outfit choice for another time that night, you struggled for a few seconds trying to figure out how to lie down without flashing Mark until you realized there was no way. Letting out a huff you looked up to see Mark standing in front of you, varsity jacket draping across your lap before you could even protest.

Not saying anything, Mark sat on the bed next to you and then allowed his body to relax, head hitting the mattress with a soft thud.

Mimicking his actions, you lied down next to him, keeping your vision towards the ceiling.

Eyes meeting the night sky and not a popcorn ceiling, you remembered Johnny telling you that when he was younger, he had been obsessed with astronomy. Begging for a skylight, his father somehow managed to create a skylight type window in Johnny’s room. The light from the sky never seemed to bother Johnny, the bed even positioned specifically to look right out into the sky. Only child perks, you guessed.

You don’t know how long you both laid there. Unmoving, just breathing and staring into the sky. It had been long enough for the throbbing in your head to fade, leaving you with heavy eyes, fluttering closed with fatigue.

“I regret it.”

That snapped you awake.

Keeping your eyes forward to the sky, you hesitated in your response. “Regret what?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“Y/N.” he said, turning to look at you. His voice was firm like that day in the café, only this time it held another emotion. Sadness? Desperation? You couldn’t tell.

Unable to stop yourself, you turned your head towards his. The proximity between you two was very limited. You could smell the beer and mint gum in his breath, could see the specks in his eyes.

“Are you okay now?” he asked. You nodded.

“Y/N… I- I’m… I’m sorry.”, he said sadly.

And because you knew Mark you knew what he meant by that. ‘I’m sorry for making you cry.’ ‘I’m sorry for making you hurt.’ ‘I’m sorry I broke your heart.’

Mouth opening to reply, you quickly shut your mouth at the sight of Mark’s watery eyes.

“Y/N… I’m in love with you. I’m still in love with you. If um… you don’t umm… if you don’t feel the same I und- “

He was cut off by your lips meeting his.

You hadn’t realized how much you missed kissing Mark until this moment right here. Pure electricity seemed to instantly course through your veins as your mind was sent into an instant frenzy.

It wasn’t until you felt hot tears falling from your eyes that you pulled away, laughing and gasping for air.

Whipping the tears away, you looked at Mark. He was smiling widely at you, soon joining in on your laughter.

Soon after you both had finished laughing for so long and hard that you were clutching your stomachs, Mark grabbed your hands with his, little giggles still leaving his lips.

“I’m still in love with you too.” You said softly after you had both calmed down.

Smiling broadly, Mark stood up, signalling for you to pass his jacket.

Fixing your dress, you handed him the jacket, him holding is open behind you, waiting for you to slip your arms inside. Basking in the scent familiar scent from the jacket (it just smelt so… Mark) you allowed Mark to pull you up with both hands.

Intertwining fingers, he led you out of the room, back into the hot house and thumping bass.

“Be mine?” he asked nervously, pausing before descending down the stairs.

“I always was.” You stated with a small smile.

Smiling so wide his eyes scrunched, he let out a sound of glee and pulled you close.

Walking down the stairs with his arms around you took you back to all of the times before the… incident and made your heart flutter.

Walking into the kitchen hand in hand, you were pleasantly surprised to see many familiar faces.

“CALLED IT!” yelled Donghyuck, Raven whacking him on the arm for yelling in her ear. “Hand it over.” He said, hand out towards Yuta.

Huffing, Yuta reached into his pocket and handed a very happy Donghyuck a twenty.

“Did you guys seriously bet on us?”, asked Mark, eyes wide.

“Ugh I had really thought today was gonna be a test run. Thought you would actually make up at Jaehyun’s party,” grumbled Yuta.

“Well I’m verrrrry happy you guys are back together,” slurred Johnny, rolling his r’s very harshly. Jaehyun pushed his hand away from a pile of icing that had landed on the counter and smiled at you and Mark.

“Congrats guys. I’m happy you worked it out.” Ever the romantic, Jaehyun smiled fondly at the two of you, Taeyong giving you both a congratulations as well.

Jeno was absolutely ecstatic at the fact that you were back together, complaining to Mark about how apparently you were “mopping around without him”. You didn’t hesitate to punch him in the arm.

“Picture time!” called Johnny, setting up his phone on the stand with the help of Taeyong.

You were surrounded by the familiar faces that had all welcomed you that first bonfire the summer you met Mark.

Leaning your head towards his, imitating the pose from the original picture, you heard Mark whisper as the flash went off.

“I love you.”

And you knew everything would be alright.

 LE FIN

[we-are-inevitable]

modern art // javid (ch. 1)

A/N: hi !! so some of you may remember an old songfic i did in march of last year, titled ‘modern art’ after the song “IDK You Yet” by Alexander 23. well, i’ve always thought that that one shot would work great as a stand alone fic, and here we are! i have ch. 1 edited and SO MUCH of it as changed- like, for example, the fic is a chapter fic now !! regardless, i hope you guys like this !!

WARNINGS: depression, anxiety, self-deprecation, past addiction, mentions of addiction, just general Bad Times- pls be mindful when reading !! it’s just very Not Happy rn ADDITIONAL INFO: all characters are in their mid-twenties in the fic. oh also this is probably important but it’s a soulmate au !!

Read On AO3!

tag list: @bound-for-santa-fe @wannabecowboypunk @shippingcannons @yahfancyclamwiththepurlinside @smallsies @deliciouspeachpirate @newsies-is-my-erster 

Jack doesn't know what’s going on with himself, but he knows that he could really use his soulmate right about now.

They’ve communicated before. Never verbally, and never enough to reveal who they were. Perhaps they are both just... dealing with some unspoken fears, dealing with the worry of rejection sitting heavy in their chests. Perhaps they both like this mystery- the uncertainty that came with the notes scrawled across their bodies in a handwriting that isn’t their own.

Or perhaps they just aren’t ready to take the plunge. To grow up and face the harsh fact that, as soon as they meet, wherever and whenever that may be, a new chapter of their life will unfold. Consume them. Change anything and everything they’ve ever known or held dear.

They had been braver when they were children, that much was true. Jack remembers staying up late often, writing notes on his skin and watching in awe as the replies appeared. He remembers the giddy rush of trying to quickly wash off the ink on his wrist when they ran out of space to talk, and, oh, how they talked. There were school days when Jack would go to class exhausted, feeling like he’d been walking through quicksand for miles on end, but all of it had been worth it. The exhaustion he felt had been worth being able to talk to them until two, three, four in the morning. Sometimes he regretted it, of course, but only because it was harder for him to focus in class. Never because he was upset at them.

He could never be upset with them.

Even now, Jack remembers a lot about his soulmate. They liked music. They knew how to play the piano. They were into a few video games, even some that Jack had never played, and said that they always tried carrying a book with them wherever they went. Jack remembers that, as a younger kid, they liked Harry Potter and Percy Jackson, but also liked analyzing Shakespeare and Edgar Allen Poe and a bunch of other fancy authors that Jack had never even heard of. They were intimidatingly smart, and sometimes, would carefully correct Jack’s grammar whenever he misspelled a word or something- but they were never mean about it, they were just… there. A steady presence that he could count on.

Fifteen year old Jack dreamed of finding them one day. But now, twenty-five year old Jack is losing hope.

He can’t exactly help it. For starters, he and his soulmate haven’t communicated in… well, shit, it had to be nearly a year. Maybe nine months or so, but there’s no way to tell for sure, and even then, their conversations since reaching adulthood have been dull, for lack of a better word. A few positive comments here, a ‘have a good day’ there- it’s all so mundane, and neither of them can be blamed for it. They both have busy lives- or, well, Jack does, at least. His job as a graphic designer is hard enough on its own, but the added pressure of doing freelance work and commissions on the side has been eating away at him for weeks, coupled with debilitating self-doubt and lack of motivation for… anything.

Saying that he’s overwhelmed is the understatement of the century.

There is always another design, another client, another meeting, another deadline, another sleepless night as he stares at a blank canvas and prays for a spark of inspiration from whatever God is listening. Usually his inspiration comes from the world around him- his friends, city life, even the quiet confines of his apartment, but right now... Jack is stuck. He had holed himself up in his room days ago, trying and failing to get out of bed every morning when the time came to work- and thank God that the majority of his work could be done from home. His boss was understanding, too, to an extent.

Still, though, there’s a constant heavy weight on his chest that prevents him from moving most days, and he’s lucky if he even gets up long enough to shower or eat or do literally anything aside from lie in silence and count the cracks in his ceiling.

Nothing had happened to him recently to bring this on, from what he can tell. Jack has always been the happy-go-lucky leader, the man with a plan, the guy who always knew just what to say to motivate others into doing the best thing for themselves, but when that responsibility is reflected back onto himself, Jack feels helpless. There are words waiting to be said, sketches waiting to be drawn, designs waiting to be sent to clients… yet Jack lies there, motionless in his room for three days before he even has the energy, the willpower, to pull back his curtains and allow the sunlight to shine through. There is so much he wants to do, so much he needs to do, but he can't bring himself to do any of it.

In all twenty-five years of his life, through all of the things he’s been through, the ups and downs and foster homes and graduations and birthdays and funerals and therapists and rehab facilities and whatever the fuck else life decided to throw at him, Jack has never felt so worthless, so… lonely. His closest friends are all moving on with their lives. Many have already found their soulmate, have settled down and hidden their rowdy, rambunctious pasts behind skeletons in a closet. They’d all gotten their adventures done and over with in high school and college, and most are moving onto bigger and better things in life. They have careers. Families. Some have children, others have pets, a few have an insane amount of plants to care for.

All have seemingly left Jack behind in the dust.

No one told him when to flip the switch.

No one told him when he had aged out of adventure.

Now, they would never say it, but Jack knows. He knows. Saturday hangouts and trips to the bar had been replaced by Sunday church services and playdates for the kids. Rather than hearing yelling from his living room after his friends had all been teetering just on the edge between tipsy and fucked up, Jack hears the news, and documentaries, and podcasts, and the ghosts of a past life that he still seemed to be desperately clinging on to.

Katherine had been the one to tell him that he needed to grow up, though she didn’t put it in such a blunt manner. No, she’s just.... gently urging him to find a bigger apartment, or buy matching furniture from a place that is not a thrift store, or purchase dishes that weren’t of the plastic Walmart brand. She says it was because she wants to see him in a more professional, "adulty" lifestyle, but he knows it’s really because she can see that he’s a mess.

Deep down, Jack knows she’s right. She’s always right.

He just can’t help but feel cemented in place, dreaming of the past while dreading the new future ahead of him.

Jack never asked to feel so broken for no reason. All of the hope and optimism he had felt as a teenager was gone, lost in a sea of uncertain plans and shitty jobs and bill extensions and canvases dropped onto the floor with no rhyme or reason. And, yes, maybe Jack would look dramatic to someone who didn’t know his situation, but Jack knows what dramatic feels like. Dramatic feels like watching his best friend, Charlie, belt onstage in front of a backdrop that he helped create for the school play. Dramatic feels like laughing at the top of his lungs while walking through a random gas station at two in the morning, joined by Race and Al, all while higher than a kite. Dramatic feels like driving to the outskirts of the city with Katherine, climbing onto the roof of an old building and screaming about all of their stress, their anxiety, their insecurities, just to have some form of emotional release.

Dramatic doesn’t feel like sadness. It’s not supposed to.

Not for Jack.

He had been so… so happy, as a teenager. Proud and defiant and carefree. He was the kind of guy to skate and smoke weed in Central Park until midnight and take a math test at eight in the morning the next day. He was the kid who stood on a table in the cafeteria and came out as bisexual to everyone around him, just because of a dumbass bet that he didn’t even get paid for. He was the boy who wasn’t at all good in an academic sense, but who always knew how to talk himself out of trouble, who always came up with the most ridiculous- or most believable- lies to cover his ass when he needed it, who was always the class favorite, the teacher’s pet without meaning to be.

Jack had felt on top of the world back then, but now he’s struggling to even get off of the ground. The longer time goes on, the more lost Jack feels inside his own life. He feels like something was missing, something big. Something bigger than himself.

When his mother was alive, which now felt like lifetimes ago, she would often echo this old wives’ tale about how it’s best to find your soulmate while you’re younger, just to save them- and yourself- the pain of being alone for a long time. Jack had always kind of believed her; logically, he knew it was true, but he had always told himself that it wouldn’t happen to him. That he would be fine alone, though it wouldn’t be ideal, and that he would have plenty of time for soulmates after he got out and made a name for himself.

He’s starting to think, though, that maybe she was right. Maybe Jack had waited too long to make a move, to make contact again, because now, he just feels nauseous even thinking about it.

Don’t get him wrong, he knows the negative effects of self deprecation and not taking his own mental health seriously, he’s been to rehab before, blah, blah, blah, but, fuck, how could he put his soulmate through something like this? This fucked up state of mind he has now. Jack can’t even imagine talking to Katherine about this, and Katherine had been his best friend for over a decade. He can’t just meet his soulmate now- it’s been too long, he’s too messed up, they won’t like him, they’ll hate him for not trying hard enough, and Jack will just end up alone again, wasting away in his bedroom because no one fucking cares. No one cares. He has nobody.

That’s not true. He has Medda, his mom, his savior, his impulse control, but the thought of telling her that everything is acting up again makes him want to scream. He has Tony, but Tony has Al, and Tony and Al have a kid- a sweet little five year old girl who calls Jack ‘Uncle Jackie’ and takes no shit from anyone. He has Katherine, but Katherine has her soulmate- this dude named Darcy, who Jack doesn’t have much of an opinion on because they just met, like, a month ago, and Jack hasn’t exactly been emotionally ready for a hangout session between the three of them. He also has Charlie, and Charlie has certainly seen him in worse times- like when Jack was kind of hooked on pills for the entirety their freshman year of college- but Charlie has grad school to worry about and Charlie would hate him if he bothered him with this.

Still, there are other people who would listen, probably. He could easily talk to Elmer, or Romeo, or Specs, or Jojo or Finch or Sean or a fucking therapist but that’s just it, isn’t it? If he talks, he burdens, and Jack Francisco Kelly would rather run himself into the ground than be a burden anyone.

So, he makes a vow.

He makes eye contact with his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He’s gripping onto the sink, holding on for dear life, as he stares into his own sunken eyes. He takes in his appearance. Damp, messy hair, falling down to cover his forehead. Pale skin, which isn’t normal at all. Dark circles have taken their place around his eyes, and his smile- one of his favorite things about himself- is… nonexistent.

Distantly, Jack registers himself dumping a full bottle of ibuprofen into the sink. And then, he does the same thing with the bottle of melatonin from his medicine cabinet. The valium follows. He lets the water run for a long time. It's not that he doesn't trust himself- he'd done so, so good in rehab, and he doesn't even feel urges that often anymore- but it's better safe than sorry, especially since he's like... this.

This is not the Jack Kelly he’s used to anymore. This is not the Jack Kelly he wants to be.

But this Jack Kelly is the one who vows not to reach out. The one who vows to only answer when his soulmate is ready, and maybe not even then.

He doesn’t have to wait long, though.

Not when a heart appears on the back of his hand the next morning.

It’s there when Jack wakes up, and, honestly, it almost brings Jack to tears- but not necessarily for happy reasons. Sure, Jack wants to be happy. Who wouldn’t be happy after seeing something like this? A lopsided heart drawn in red ink, right on the back of his left hand- it was the definition of a symbol, of a romantic gesture, and Jack wants so badly to write back, to strike up conversation, to draw a goddamn heart, but… he can’t.

He can’t, and that’s horrible of him, and he knows it.

Right now, though… Jack can’t even work up the courage, the energy, to call his mom.

His soulmate, whoever they are, is going to have to wait.

[toddtakefive]

Can I Have a Ride Home? I’m at a Party and I Don’t Know Any1

fandom(s): Gravity Falls, Over The Garden Wall

pairing(s): Pinescone , Mabcifica (mentioned)

words: 5314

rating: M (reasons listed in trigger warnings + swearing)

work type: One-shot , AU

tw(s): homophobia , use of slurs , violence and references to past violence

Also on AO3!!

Wirt wasn’t entirely sure how Sara had managed to drag him along with her to Senior Prom, hell he wasn’t even sure how she had managed to get a suit for him when he’d refused to go in for a fitting, but now he was standing in a crowded gym full of high-schoolers and he already wanted to leave. In his defense, they’d already been there an hour and that was an hour longer than he was at most parties.

If he was going to be completely honest, the party wasn’t that bad. Sure the music would cut off whenever there was a swear - everyone would still sing it anyways -, and sure the punch tasted weird, but it wasn’t necessarily a bad party as most parties go. The reason it was a bad party is because it was a party full of nothing but high-schoolers, and high-schoolers are scary. At least to Wirt.

He lost Sara twenty minutes ago -he’s honestly starting to think she’s underneath the bleachers flirting with the girl from her Chem class- and he’s getting bored so he pulls out his phone and starts typing a quick text to Dipper.

‘Bored. Wish you were here :/’.

The reply is immediate, 

‘Lol r u a postcard??’ ‘Wish I wre ther too <3 drving rigt now txt you lter′. 

The next text he receives is a picture taken by the person in the passenger seat, likely Mabel, with a peace sign while Dipper attempts to get his phone back without taking his eyes off the road. The caption for the photo is ‘road safety laws are bogus B)’. He laughs to himself. Yup, definitely Mabel.

He looks up at the sound of steps approaching, expecting it to be Sara but instead seeing evil incarnate. He takes in a deep breath before plastering on a fake smile.

“Hello, Trevor.” he says. 

Trevor Martin. No offense to the British actor Trevor Martin, of course, but Wirt fucking hates this guy. He’s book smart, Wirt’ll give him that, but that’s his only redeeming quality. Not only is he a totally fuckwad, but he has the audacity to say he’s not and try to date Sara, a very loud and proud lesbian. Like, dude, at least Jason Funderberker had the decency to back off when she came out. Plus, never trust a guy with a first name for a last name.

Trevor, wearing his slimy little smirk like he always does, doesn’t even meet Wirt’s eyes. “So, where’s Sara? I figured she’d be with you, you know, since you’re like her fucking boyfriend or whatever.”

Wirt scrunches his nose just slightly, he doesn’t want this situation to escalate more than it has to. “I’ve told you this a thousand times, Trevor. She is not my girlfriend.”

Trevor rolls his eyes, “Sure. You get pissed off that I’m trying to date her because you aren’t her boyfriend. Got it.”

Wirt shakes his head, “I get pissed off that you’re trying to date her because she’s a lesbian. Which is literally common knowledge, by the way.” he throws away his plastic cup and walks out into the hallway. Trevor, being an idiot in everything but school subjects, follows him into the hallway.

“She’s not a lesbian, she’s just saying that to get me to leave her alone.” Trevor explains, causing Wirt to roll his eyes as he walks.

“That’s not how that fucking works, Trevor. Besides, if a girl is literally resorting to faking being a lesbian to get you to leave her alone, maybe you just don’t know how to take a hint.”

He hears Trevor scoff, “Well she’s dating you, so she isn’t a lesbian.”

“She isn’t dating me! And you do know people can be bi, right?”

“If she isn’t dating you then why are you always talking about your relationship in World Civ?”

Wirt, just wanting this idiot to leave him alone already, stops walking abruptly and turns around. Trevor runs into him and falls back a little bit, he has a look on his face that Wirt thinks is his ‘gotcha’ face, but he’s really had enough of the whole ‘Wirt and Sara are dating in secret’ thing when they’re both very out homosexuals.

“Because I have a boyfriend, Trevor.” he deadpans, and sees that smug look fall off of Trevor’s face. God he loves the look of confusion that floods his features, it’s pure poetry.

“What?” Trevor asks, with all of his genius.

“The reason you hear me talking about my relationship -in conversations that didn’t involve you, by the way- is because I have a boyfriend. He lives in California.”

Trevor looks as though his entire world view just got re-shaped. He’s between wanting to believe and wanting to think it’s a prank, but, to Trevor, Wirt isn’t cool enough to pull a prank like this with a straight face.

The long minutes of silence is starting to get awkward, but just as Wirt is about to walk away Trevor speaks up again, “Wait so,” he pauses, “you’re a faggot?”

Wirt tenses immediately. That word. God he hates that word. The first time he heard it was when he came out to his biological dad when he and Dipper started dating back in Sophomore year. It wasn’t a great conversation, and Wirt vividly remembers the bloody nose he got out of it.

“I- uhm. Y-yeah. I- yeah.” Wirt stammers out. Trevor’s entire demeanor changes.

“Wait, what the fuck?” he says, distancing himself from Wirt by a couple inches. This causes Wirt to snap out of whatever funk he was in. He raises an eyebrow.

“Me having a boyfriend isn’t new information, Trevor. You’ve heard me get teased for talking about him before.”

“Yeah, but I thought they were joking! I didn’t think you were actually. You know.” he makes a wild hand gesture in Wirt’s direction.

“Gay?” Wirt asks with a furrowed brow.

“That! That. I didn’t think you were that.” Okay, now Wirt’s getting pissed. Obviously the use of the slur pissed him off, but not even being able to say the word gay? Come on, dude.

“Is there a problem with that?” He asks, crossing his arms. He’s not entirely sure where this newfound courage is coming from, but he can think about it later.

“No it’s just, dude have you been checking me out in the locker rooms and shit this whole time!” Trevor asks, his stance becoming defensive.

Wirt flinches back a bit at the question. “No. Why would I do that?”

“Because you’re.” Another wild hand gesture. Dude, just say the word.

Wirt sighs, “Gay. Right, yeah. We’ve established that. But I don’t go around creeping on the guys in the locker room. That would be fucking weird. And, again, I have a boyfriend, and you also aren’t my type so we’re covering all the bases of ‘I’d never do that’.”

Trevor takes a step forward that causes Wirt to take a step back, “I don’t believe you.” he says, voice lined with anger.

Wirt, quickly realizing he should have just walked away while Trevor was confused, holds his hands up in defense, “Good for you, but I don’t really care.” he glances over Trevor’s shoulder to see if he could make a break for the door. That idea is quickly thrown out the window when Trevor grabs Wirt by the collar. Wirt laughs a bit to himself, “You know, this looks kinda gay.”

Trevor’s hold on the front of his shirt tightens, he brings his hands up higher to make sure he isn’t touching the other boy anywhere, “Okay! Okay, okay, okay! Okay. Look, honestly man, never watched you while you were changing! I don’t think we’ve ever even had a P.E class together, if I’m being honest. And besides, I don’t think watching sweaty teenage boys change is that appealing. Especially not you, cause no offense you’re not really anyone’s type. At least not any gay persons type I mean! I’m sure some girl at the college you attend will think you’re hot, she’ll probably have kinda low standards but a girlfriend’s a girlfriend, right? And she’ll marry you right outta college, and you’ll become a fucking accountant or something else just as soul sucking, and you’ll have two kids, and a dog, and feel free to cut me off whenever you like.”

There’s a crunch and a massive amount of pain that makes Wirt stop talking. His head is spinning faster than a tornado, but he knows the feeling of hitting the school floor well enough to know it happens somewhere within the time he gets punched in the face a second time and kicked in the stomach the first.

He’s not entirely sure how long he’s on the floor, but he does know that when he finally opens his eyes Trevor is standing above him, heaving, staring at his own hands like they’re covered in blood- oh they are. That is blood. That is definitely blood. That’s a lot of blood. Wow.

Wirt pushes himself off of the ground, there’s an ache in every fiber of his being but the floor is cold and dirty and he’d rather not be down there right now. As he rises, slowly, he can see a steady drip of blood coming down from his face. That’s not good.

By the time he’s fully standing, Trevor looks ready to burst. “Wirt! Oh my god, dude. I am so fucking sorry, I didn’t. I don’t know why I. I never. Fuck I didn’t, I just, shit are you fucking okay?” the questions are rapid fire. Wirt’s a little too out of it to be able to tell if they’re genuine or not, and he doesn’t really care if they are at this point. This guy eats paste.

“Trevor.” Wirt finally says, “Shut the fuck up.” his words are slurred, and it’s obvious he’s still scared if the tremor in his voice is anything to go by, but he really just needs it to be quiet right now. To his credit, Trevor does shut up, but he just stands there.

There they are, two guys standing in a hallway, five feet apart cause one just beat the shit out of the other for being gay. Prom night is great. In his delirious state, Wirt can faintly hear ‘Lover Is a Day’ by Cuco playing from the gym. The beats pulse under his feet, and it’s just adding onto the pain right now.

After maybe five minutes, Trevor speaks up again. “Wirt I really am sorry, dude. I don’t know why I did that. I was pissed and you wouldn’t shut up and I didn’t what else to do! Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!” Trevor hits the locker to his right with the side of his fist. The sound rings through the otherwise empty hall, and Wirt just stares at the first still on metal.

Wirt runs a hand through his hair, “That’s great and everything, but was the getting on top of me and repeatedly punching me in the nose necessary? Or, you know, any of it? You just fucking committed a hate crime dude, do you even realize that?” he’s talking slowly, his voice is tired and he would rather be anywhere else.

“I know! I know it was! But it honestly didn’t have anything to do with you being,” he pauses, and Wirt is about to finish for him before he continues on his own, “Gay. It didn’t have to do with you being gay, okay. I just. I have like severe anger issues. It’s some fucking long ass name, but the shortened thing is IED. It’s not really something I have any control over, and it’s been a while since I’ve had an episode that bad, and I promise it has nothing to do with you being gay or anything! That fucking chill, man! This stuff literally just happens, I swear on my motherfucking yeezys!” Wirt, who is finally coming back down to Earth and is able to process English language again, raises his brow, “ Okay, I don’t own yeezys, but you know what I mean.” He looks down to the floor, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Wirt sighs, wiping under his nose with his suit sleeve. It doesn’t help, the blood keeps flowing and now his suit is ruined. Fuck Prom night, dude. “Look, Trevor. If you actually have a genuine mental illness that does that, you get a fucking pass on the beating the shit out of me part.” Trevor flinches at that, “But you’re still kinda homophobic dude.”

Trevor looks up from the ground, “What? How?”

Wirt shrugs, crossing his arms again. “Assuming someone isn’t a lesbian when they say they are is pretty high on the list. Actually, assuming a gay guy is checking people out while they’re changing is also pretty high on the list. Both of the things you said are pretty high on the list, actually.”

This time it’s Trevor who furrows his brow, “But she isn’t a lesbian. I asked her why she thought she was a lesbian a couple weeks ago and she said it’s because she thinks girls are hot and that she wouldn’t mind kissing them, but that’s normal. Like, I know a couple guys in my classes that I wouldn’t mind kissing or like fucking or something and I’m not gay or whatever. Everyone thinks like that.”

Wirt’s mind just fucking imploded on itself. He’s joking. He has to be joking. Oh fuck he is not joking. Oh dear. Wirt cringes to himself, “Oh Jesus.” he whispers, “Trevor, you do know that isn’t a universal thing, right? Like, you know not every guy would be fine with fucking another guy, right?”

“Wait, really?” Trevor asks, his voice quiet. Wirt simply nods and watches as Trevor seems to contemplate his whole existence in front of him. “But I’m not. My mom told me that I couldn’t be gay, I just needed to find the right girl and it would be fine. I don’t like guys like that, I’m not.”

Fuck, why does Wirt have empathy. If he was a dick he could just walk away from this situation and not feel a thing, but he can’t leave this guy in a crisis. Even if he did just beat his ass.

“Trevor, why do you like Sara?”

“She’s funny, and kinda cool, I guess. I just want to hang out with her more, plus my friends kept saying I should go for it, so I figured why not.”

“Dude, you just want to be her fucking friend. That’s, what you want is a friendship. Jesus dude, you don’t even actually like her do you?”

Trevor shrugs, “I don’t know. I mean, she’s cool and everything.”

“Would you kiss her.” Wirt asks.

“What?” 

“Would you kiss Sara. Or any girl for that matter.” He asks again, slower this time.

Trevor rolls his eyes, giving Wirt a look that suggest the answer should be obvious, but when he opens his mouth, no words come out. It stays open for about ten seconds before he frowns. “No I. I wouldn’t” he lets out a dry laugh void of humor. “Holy shit, I fucking wouldn’t. What the fuck.”

Wirt sighs taking a few steps over to Trevor, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Go home, Trevor. You have had more than enough action tonight.” his hand slides off and he turns around to find the nearest bathroom, he about to round a corner when he remembers something and looks over at Trevor, who hasn’t moved an inch, “Try to refrain from using the f-slur before you figure out your whole mess, maybe?” He gives the other boy a quick smile before walking away.

The nearest bathroom is way too fucking far away, in Wirt’s humble opinion. And why are half of the lights off in these hallways? God, he feels like the character about to die in a horror movie. Thankfully, the light switch in the bathroom was easy to find so he isn’t completely in the dark.

He grabs some paper towels and wets them, and then he finally looks in the mirror. Jesus fucking Christ.

Trevor did a number on him, and if it were any other situation that required less brain power he would be kinda impressed. His nose is definitely broken, if the aching and gushing blood are any indicator, he’s got a black eye, a busted lip, bruises across his face and collarbone -and if the amount of times he was kicked in the stomach is as many as it felt, he’s got them there too- and, the cherry on fucking top, his suit jacket ripped a little bit.

His phone buzzes in his pocket as he finishes wiping the blood from his face, but his nose is still bleeding. Pulling his phone out of his back pocket he finds two new messages. One from Sara, saying she scored with the girl from her chem class and that she has a date next Saturday, and one from Dipper saying they’ve finally stopped driving.

Wirt texts Sara back congratulating her on her suaveness that she most definitely didn’t have (see: nearly puked on a cute girl for complimenting her shoes once) before opening up his texts with Dipper and taking a picture in the mirror holding up a peace sign. He masterfully captions the photo: ‘babys first hate crime <3′. 

His phone rings immediately.

He picks up right away, and is greeted with a very frantic, “Where are you?” there’s faint music in the background, they must be at their dance right now.

“Uhm. The bathroom in hallway E, I think. Why?” Wirt asks, throwing away the bloody paper towels.

“We’re on our way.” Is all he gets in response.

“What? You’re in California how are you supposed to. Did he fucking hang up on me?” Wirt pulls his phone away from his ear, “Wow, okay.” He pockets his phone and stares at himself in the mirror for a few seconds. It’s gonna suck having to explain this to anybody, and he knows his mom will go full Godzilla mode on the school board if he tells the truth, but he can’t just out someone. Fuck, man.

The door to the bathroom swings open and two rapid sets of footsteps approach him, he’s almost expecting to be beaten up again until he’s turned around and hugged tightly. His confusion only lasts for a second when his land on Mabel, but then it flares up again because what the fuck that’s Mabel.

He pushes away from the person hugging him and is met with a person he both did and did not expect to see.

“Dipper.” He not shocked that Dipper did actually find hallway E, they broke in last summer to investigate if the place is actually haunted (it is), so he learned the layout pretty well in that instance, but he’s shocked that he’s even in the room. “Wait. Am I concussed? Is this a hallucination?”

“Er, wrong!” Mabel says, pushing Dipper out of the way and hugging Wirt tighter than a strait jacket. He lets out a sound of pain and she lets him go immediately. “Sorry! I forgot you’re like, dying right now.”

“Not dying, per se, but getting there if my nose doesn’t stop bleeding soon. I didn’t even know I had this much blood, if I’m being honest.” Mabel laughs a bit and wow did he miss that sound. He missed them, really. It’s always better when they’re around.

“What happened?” Dipper’s voice finally enters the conversation, and it makes his heart flutter but also reminds him the situation in which they’ve been reunited. Especially if the pissed off tone is anything to go by.

Wirt shrugs, “I got into a fight?”

Dipper gives him a look, “You called it a hate crime, before.”

Wirt laughs, “Yeah, I know. But it wasn’t, technically? I don’t know I’m still having trouble processing the whole ordeal. But I just got into an argument with Trevor, you know who I’m talking about, and he got really mad so he fucking beat the shit out of me and,” Dipper turns to walk out the door but Wirt pulls him back by the arm, “don’t walk away, I’m not done yet. He has a thing called IED, or something? He didn’t know the full medical name for it, but he said it had to do with like uncontrollable anger? Like it just happens or something.”

Dipper nods, “Intermittent Explosive Disorder.”

“Yeah, probably. But he felt really bad after, and I can’t blame him for having something he can’t control, dude. That would be a dick move. But yeah, we talked it out I guess. I think I just made him question the entire universe.”

Dipper sighs, still tense but loosening now, “So you called it a hate crime, because?”

“Well, I mean, okay. At first I thought he did it because I was gay, but from our little conversation we had after, it was definitely not that.” 

Both twins raise eyebrow, “Are you gonna give us any more info, or?” Mabel asks and Wirt just shrugs. Dipper lets out another, deeper sigh. He’s known Wirt long enough to know that little shrug means ‘never in a million years ever’. 

“What are you guys doing here, anyways? I mean, I’m happy you’re here, but I live in Arizona? It’s like an eleven hour drive.”

Dipper shrugs, taking Wirt’s hand. “Guess I missed the ‘Team Roping Capital of the World’.” he teases and Wirt groans.

“Shut up! You know I think that’s stupid as shit.” He says, and as the twins laugh at him he takes a second to admire his boyfriends face. Dipper always laughs freely, and Wirt thinks that’s one of the reasons he fell in love with the younger (”by two days!”) boy at summer camp. His hair isn’t in his usual baseball cap with a pine tree on it, and is styled just the right way to cover his birthmark. He looks happy, if not still tense about the fact that Wirt got his ass beat. An easy smile finds it’s way onto Wirt’s face as Dipper calms down.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.” Dipper says, leading him towards the door. Mabel follows quickly behind, flicking off the light. She runs ahead of them, twirling around the hallway and nearly falling over herself in the process.

“So, I know Wirt is gonna wanna bounce because he’s covered in human juice.”

“Stop calling blood human juice.”

“Don’t interrupt me, Dipper. But what are we gonna do when we skedaddle out of here?”

Both twins look to the brunette for an answer, he huffs as he tries to think of something. “We could get burgers and shakes at McDonald's? And then head home, probably. Greg’s gonna be super excited to see you guys.”

“Oh! I can’t wait to see him! We’re here for the next four days, by the way, god I can’t wait!” She pushes open the doors to the gym and the music floods over them. Jesus, was it always that loud? How long had Wirt been away from the party?”

“What time is it?” He asks Dipper, trying to ignore all of the strange looks that are being sent his way. He can’t blame them, it looks like he got mauled by a pack of wild dogs.

“It is, nine forty-eight.” The other boy responds, Wirt nods as they exit the gym into the parking lot. Dipper’s car is still as messy as it was the year before, if not more, but Wirt thinks that just adds to the charm.

Sara, who had apparently been in front of the gym the whole night, drops her punch at the sight of Wirt. “Oh my god! Wirt!” she rushes over.

“I’m fine, Sare. Really. It’s all good.” He gives her a smile, but she doesn’t stop giving him a look.

“Trevor did this, didn’t he? You know he came out here like thirty minutes ago fucking covered in blood and looked like he pissed himself when he saw me. So don’t cover for him.”

“I’m not covering for Trevor! There were circumstances that I don’t know if I’m allowed to share.” Wirt says, gesturing wildly with his hands, thankfully Dipper doesn’t seem to mind.

“Wirt, if he’s blackmailing you just tell me. I can fix it!”

“Sare, I appreciate the thought, but this is really something that should be left alone, alright? I might tell you on a different day, but right now it is confidential. No I’m not being blackmailed, if anything the information I got out of him after everything could be considered blackmail, just. Not tonight, okay?” He can tell she doesn’t want to give up but he really can’t explain all of this right now, “Please?”

She sighs, “Alright. Fine. But I expect a detailed report of what happened tomorrow morning.” Wirt nods and it’s then Sara finally notices the twins, “Oh. You found him. Cool, see you guys.” The twins giver he simultaneous ‘later’s’ and she walks back to the girl from her chem class.

Mabel moves to get in the front seat before she’s stopped by Dipper, “Ah ah ah!” he says, gaining her attention. He passes her the keys and she whines but moves to the other side anyways.

“You fucking suck, Dip-stick.”

“Sorry that I want to be able to comfort my boyfriend in the backseat of my own car and can’t do that when I’m driving.” he opens the back door and motions for Wirt to get in, and once they’re all set they drive to the nearest McDonald's.

Ordering food had thus been the easier part of Wirt’s night, but he’s hoping things will start going up from here.

The food sits in the passengers seat in the quiet car before Mabel presses play on the car stereo. Wirt immediately looks up from where his head was buried in Dipper’s shoulder, a smile crossing his face.

“Isn’t this the mixtape I made you?” He turns back to Dipper, absolutely beaming.

Dipper’s face is red, but he nods. “Yeah. I listen to it sometimes.”

“Liar! He listens to it all the fucking time. I have it memorized by now.” Mabel calls from the front. Dipper kicks the back of her seat, “Shut up! At least I don’t have an entire folder dedicated to pictures of him on my phone!”

“My Pacifica picture collection is none of your business! And you have like eight hundred Polaroids on him on your wall, don’t even try that shit with me!” 

Dipper’s rebuttal is cut off when Wirt presses a kiss to his cheek. The younger boy turns and immediately presses their lips together in a kiss. It’s soft because of Wirt’s busted lip, but it’s still incredible. It’s never not incredible when it’s the two of them.

Mabel makes fake barfing noises, causing Dipper to flip her off, causing Wirt to laugh. They pull up to the drive way, walk through the front door, and are immediately greeted by Greg. He rushes into Wirt, giving him a tight hug. Even at ten years old, Greg still has as much energy as he did at six.

“Welcome home, brother o’ mine. How was, whoa what happened to your face?”

Wirt ruffles his little brothers hair, “I got into a fight with a dragon, dude. I won, obviously, but my jacket didn’t make it out alive.”

“I can fix that for you.” Mabel says taking his suit jacket, she’s almost knocked over when Greg charges into her next which makes her laugh. “Hey there, space cowboy. I missed you too!” She pulls him into a tight hug twirling him around the foyer before setting him back down. Dipper gives him a hug as well, just as tight but without all the spinning, and then Greg’s attention is back on Wirt.

“Okay. Why was this dragon mad at you?” He asks. This had become their thing ever since The Unknown. They would talk as if they were still there, or at least like they were in a fantasy world, and explain things to each other that way. Wirt thinks it helps them cope, but it’s probably just a result of being some weird kids.

“Anger issues.” Wirt says. That’s way too simple a phrase for it, and he knows that, but Greg is nine. He can explain it another day, but this is now and it’s ten o’clock.

Greg gives him a goofy grin, “Alright!” he says, skipping into the kitchen. The three teenagers follow him, Dipper once again takes Wirt’s hand.

“What were you doing in here little man?” Dipper asks, noticing that all of the chairs at the edge of the kitchen.

Greg picks up Jason Funderburker, the frog, and smiles again. “Well, Wirt was at his dance, and I wasn’t allowed to go with, so I made my own! Mom and dad are out tonight, too so I can play is as loud as I want!”

Greg being allowed to stay home alone tonight was a big decision. Not because no one trusted him but... okay yeah no one trusted him. Plus, it was dangerous! But, tonight was their mom and Johnathan's ten year anniversary and his mom didn’t want him to miss out on his Senior prom -no matter how much he assured her he could live without having gone- so it was the only option. No one was available to babysit, again prom night, and they couldn’t exactly take their nine year old to a bar. It doesn’t look like anything is on fire or broken yet, so Wirt can say it’s been a success so far.

“Alright then,space cowboy, lets get this party started!” Mabel says as she turns up the music. The song is ‘You Really Got Me’ by The Kinks, how Greg knows this song Wirt has no clue, and it bounces off the walls echoing up the stairs.

Greg does his weird jump step thing that he’s been doing since he could walk. It’s literally just jumping side to side to music, with the occasional dangerously fast spin, but it’s not a bad move. Jason Funderburker looks sick from all of the motion and Greg stops his movement just to let the frog go.

Mabel has always been a crazy dancer, just jumping around, arms flailing, hair going everywhere from her shaking her head. She’s probably going to poke someone’s eye out one of these days, but at least she’s having fun. Or, maybe she’s trying to poke someone’s eye out. Either way, she’s having a good time.

Dipper makes sure his arm movements hit every beat, spinning around for the parts where there are no hard beats to hit but smiling nonetheless. He looks like an idiot, and he knows he looks like an idiot, but what’s the point in being around all of your favorite people if you can’t look like an idiot in front of them?

Wirt, not much a dancer in normal circumstances, is going all out right now. He’s much more graceful than Mabel is being, but other than that they’ve got practically the same vibe. Except that Wirt actually did hit Dipper in the eye on accident earlier, but that’s in the past now.

The song ends and another begins and that cycle repeats for an hour until they’re all too tired for it anymore. Wirt sits down in one of the chairs, looking out over the kitchen. Greg is sitting on the floor with Jason Funderburker while the twins argue over what terrible movie to watch simply to make fun of it.

They both turn, “Wirt,” Dipper says, “What do you think?”

Wirt smiles. Maybe Prom night isn’t so bad after all. 

[noladyme]

Skip To My Lou, My Darling - Chapter 3, Too Perfect I

The road so far…

Deadly nightmares. Immortal countesses. Lulu thought she’d seen it all since she’d first met the Winchester brothers. Extreme circumstances pushed her into the arms of the eldest brother, Dean – and she hasn’t been able to stop thinking of him since. Now back to her every day life of bartending and the occasional visit from a certain angel, what will happen when she finally sees Dean again? Is there still a connection – or was it all in their heads?

Our story continues in season 5

Rated M

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added) @edonaspanca​ @wonderlandfandomkingdom​

8 years ago.

Night shift again. Luckily, it’s a slow one tonight. Only a few guests strewn across the place. “Lulu!”, Ricky calls from the kitchen. “Order’s up for 13”. “13 is Janice’s table”, I answer. “She called in sick again”, he shrugs. Dammit. I know it’s because it’s her boyfriend’s home from college. I walk over to the serving hatch; grabbing a large order of bacon, and a slice of cherry pie. Weird order for dinner, but who am I to judge. I’ll gladly throw back some jalapeño poppers at any time of day.

I walk over to table 13 with the order; placing the two plates in front of a dark-haired man, who’s in a deep conversation on his phone. “… no, Dean. Silver. Iron won’t do anything, I told you… yeah…”. I begin to walk away. “Miss?”. I turn around. The man at the table is looking at me. He’s cute, in an older guy kind of way. Much too old for me, but a girl can dream. “Can you top off my coffee?”, he asks, covering the mic on the phone. I smile, and nod; going to get the freshly brewed pot from the machine behind the counter.

I look down at my uniform, cursing myself that I didn’t chose the one that was just a tiny bit shorter, to show off my legs. As I walk back towards the table, I hear the man continuing his conversation. “Well read up!... Yes. Latin… No, I didn’t call him. If he wants to talk, he has my number… Ok. Call me when it’s finished”. He hangs up, as I pour some fresh coffee into his mug. “Kids, right?”, he mutters with a smile, before looking up and meeting my eyes. “Though, you’re probably a bit young to have any of those yourself”. I blush slightly. “Yeah… not really there yet”.

The man gives me a once over. His gaze isn’t leering, but it is appreciative – and I stifle a smile. “You must have someone out there willing to give you a few little ones”, he says. He takes a sip from his coffee. “You in college?”. “Saving up for it”, I smile. “Leave me a nice tip, and I’ll get there even sooner”. He chuckles. His voice is warm, and his caramel eyes glinting with amusement. “Tell you what. Get me another dollop of cream for the pie, and I’ll make that happen”, he says. I wink at him and walk away.

“Are you flirting with Daddy over there?”, Ricky jeers, as I come over to grab some cream. “Serving my way to the top”, I chuckle. “He seems nice. Nothing else”. “Sure thing, Lulu”, Ricky smiles.

I go back to table 13; and put a large dollop of cream on the man’s pie. “There you go, sir. Enjoy”. “Thanks, Lulu”, he smiles. I wrinkle my brows. “Your name tag”, he grins. “Oh!”, I giggle. “Yeah”.

He has a leather-bound journal in front of him. The page is opened to a picture of a pretty blonde woman. “Your wife?”, I ask. He looks up at me with a slight grimace. “Sorry… Not any of my business”. “No, it’s fine… Yeah. My wife”, he mutters. “She’s pretty”, I say. “Must have made those kids of yours some kind of beautiful”. “They’re not half bad”, he chuckles. “Good boys. Don’t see them too often. Work”. “Oh… too bad. They with your wife?”. He shakes his head. “No… she passed some years ago”. I frown. “Sorry to hear that”, I say quietly. “Me too… thanks for the cream”, he says.

That’s my cue to leave. I flash him a bright smile, and saunter off. “Oh, Lulu?”, the man calls after me. “Yes, sir?”, I ask. “Have you heard about those cattle mutilations, out at that farm?”. I frown. “No more than what was in the news… why?”. He shakes his head. “Never mind… Just… if you do hear anything, could you give me a call?”. I blush again. “I don’t have your number, sir”.

He pulls out a note from his pocket, and scribbles something down on it – then hands it to me. It’s a twenty-dollar bill, with a phone number now written at the bottom. “This is way too much, sir!”, I gasp. “Keep it. As a thanks for friendly conversation. And it’s John”, he smiles.

His phone rings, and he picks it up. “Bobby?... Yeah… I’ll be there”. He hangs it up. “Can you pack this to go?”, he says to me in a rushed tone. I run to grab a to-go box; and quickly pack up his food, handing it to him, as he gathers the papers he’s strewn upon the table. “Here you go, John. Have a nice evening”, I smile.

His tense body language relaxes a bit. “I will. Thanks, Lou”. He hands me another twenty. “Keep the change”. I let out a short laugh. “This is still too much”, I say. He tilts his head. “My youngest is in college. I know it’s expensive… Keep it. And take care”.

He puts on his coat, and leaves the diner.

---

Now…

Hurricanes. Successful nuclear tests in North Korea. Terrorists attacks on convents. Swine flu. The world seemed to be coming to an end – and I was wiping down a bar-counter in Denver. “I’m off”, our newest bartender – Pete – called out to me. “That offer of coffee still stands, Lulu”. I smiled. “Thanks, Pete; but I have plans”, I said. “Grab the trash, would you?”. He nodded, and grabbed two large bags; heading towards the back door. He winked at me; and closed the door behind him. Avoiding the dark spot on the floor we hadn’t been able to remove, after my encounter with Erzsebet; I walked over to the door Pete had gone through, and locked it. I didn’t really have plans; but going on a date with a coworker wasn’t high on my list of wants.

I checked my phone. The only message was a picture of Raul and Chad on their honeymoon. The two men had worked fast after Raul had avoided murder charges 6 months earlier. Once Chad had healed from the surgery to get rid of his little extra asset; he’d dropped down on one knee on a busy night at Buddy’s – and with tearstained cheeks, Raul had accepted his proposal. I’d been the maid of honor to both men – dateless, I might add; as the only man I wanted at my side at a romantic ceremony joining two paramours, was somewhere driving across the states, trying to hunt down monsters and ghosts – or stopping Armageddon; I wasn’t sure at this point.

Dean hadn’t been in touch for months. Not in person, anyway. I understood he was busy, but it hurt not to know where he was – and if he was ok.

Arriving at my small studio apartment that night, I brushed my fingers over the carving on my door – sending a warm thought at the two men who’d saved my life twice. Once inside, I got in my comfiest leggings, socks, tank top and cardigan; and went to read my current book – one about witchcraft and hoodoo. It was the middle of the night; but my sleep schedule as a bartender didn’t exactly make me a day person. I began reading from the part I’d gotten to, and sipping at a mug of cocoa.

There was a knock at the door. I glanced at the wall clock. 3 am. Looking through the peephole, I sighed, and slowly opened the door.

“Hello, Lulu”. “Hi, Castiel”, I said quietly. “Thanks for knocking this time”. The angel smiled gently. “Well, last time you were… undressed”. I moved out of the way, so Castiel could step into my apartment. “Yeah. Literally in the shower as well. I would have offered you a towel, but…”. “You were busy punching my face, and putting a knee to my groin”, the angel said. I chuckled.

Closing the door behind the angel, I went to sit on my couch again. Castiel had been coming around every few weeks – just for a few minutes – apparently to check on me. “So, as you can see, I’m alive”, I muttered. “Are they?”. Cass nodded. “They are working on… something”. “Vague as ever”, I smiled sarcastically. “He has my number. He could just call me”.

Castiel frowned. “I’ve come to take you with me…”, he said. I stood up, and held out my hands to stop him. “Whoa! No… Every time you do your… angel teleportation thing on me, I end up in some random place, without my shoes. And it gives me motion sickness”. “I’ve only done it twice; and one of the times, it saved your life”. I sighed. “Yeah, fine… but still. No thank you”. He stepped towards me. “I’m afraid I must insist”, he said. “Why?”, I frowned.

There was another knock at my door. I stepped over to check the peephole; but Cass held out to stop me. The knocking turned in to a pounding. “That’s why”, he said. “They found you”. My eyes widened. “Who?”, I breathed. “Who found me?”.

Castiel put his hand on my shoulder; and we were standing in front of a lit fireplace. My stomach was churning. “Lulu?”, a voice said. With wide eyes, I turned around, and saw Bobby Singer – seated in a wheelchair – looking at me in wonder. “I got her before they took her. You can take it from here”, Castiel said; and was gone. I looked down. “You forgot my shoes again!”, I snarled.

Bobby smiled at me. “How are you, kid?”, he asked. “Very confused”, I admitted. “Yeah, he does that”, Bobby said. “So, do I get a hug?”.

I grinned, and ran over to embrace the man; who – the last time I’d seen him – was standing. “What happened?”, I asked. Bobby shook his head. “Demon…”, he grunted. I laughed. “Demon…”, I said. Bobby raised a brow at me. “Seriously?”. Bobby gave me a crooked smile. “It’s a whole new world, darlin’”. He patted my arm; not able to reach my cheek from the chair. “I’ll have the guys fill you in when they get back”. I swallowed hard. “They’re here?”, I croaked. “About 30 minutes out. Coffee?”. “Please…”, I said, and followed him to the kitchen, grabbing two mugs from a shelf.

Bobby poured us both a mug of coffee, and I went to sit on a couch in the living room/study/something that looked like a place a fortune teller might set up shop. Bobby rolled over to face me. “How have you been?”, he asked. “I heard about what happened in Denver…”. I pulled up the sleeves of my cardigan, and ran my fingers over the slight scars there. “Turns out my boss was really sorry he hadn’t paid for security, and let a deranged serial killer get at his favorite employee; as he called me”, I grinned. “I think he was just worried I’d sue him. But he paid my doctors bill, and for a plastic surgeon to make the scars less visible”. Bobby winced. “Looks like you went through it”, he said. “I’m happy you’re better”. “Yeah”, I smiled. “No permanent damage, save for the occasional person thinking I cut myself on purpose”.

“Bobby!”, a voice called out – a voice I recognized immediately, and made my heart skip a beat. “In here”, Bobby answered. “We got scotch. Liquor store was out of bourbon”, Sam said, as he stepped into the living room. His eyes widened when he saw me; and he ran over to embrace me – lifting me off my feet in a warm hug. I heard the front door close. “Dude, are you gonna make me carry everything?”, Dean growled, and dropped two plastic bags on the kitchen table. Sam put me down. “Dean”, he muttered. “What?”, Dean grunted; and turned around.

His face went through a range of emotions – before, with three long strides; he stepped over to me. Just as I thought he was about to take me in his arms, he pulled out a knife. “Did you check her?”, he growled. “She came in with Cass”, Bobby said. “Did you check her!”, Dean repeated. Sam sighed, and handed me a flask. “Take a sip”, he said. I frowned – taken aback by the cold reception from the man I’d spent months missing. “What is it?”, I asked; looking at the knife in Deans hand. “Holy water. Just drink it”, Sam muttered.

With a cold look at Dean, I grabbed the flask, and drank the liquid inside. Dean looked at me for a few seconds; and seemingly satisfied I wasn’t going to burn up in flames or melt – or whatever it was he’d expected – he put away the knife. “Lulu…”, he muttered. “Cass brought you?”. “Just a little while ago”, I said quietly. “Thanks for the warm welcome, by the way”. Dean clenched his jaw in anger. “Dammit, he wasn’t supposed to bring you here”, he growled. “Maybe he was sensing how grumpy you’ve been”, Bobby grunted in response.

Dean did look extremely grumpy. And tired. “Sorry, Lou… This isn’t a good time”, he said. I made a scoffing laugh. “Well, just call Castiel. I’m sure he can take me back to my apartment”. “No”, he said. “You can’t go back there right now”. “Why?”, I sneered.

Sam cleared his throat. “Angels… and demons… They’re using the people we care about to get to us”. I shook my head in confusion. “I’m sorry, what?”. Dean sighed. “We got wind that they were coming to nab you. I asked Cass to bring you somewhere safe”, he said. “Not here”. I shrugged; trying not to seem hurt about Dean’s standoffishness. “So, what happens now?”, I said. “What happens now, is you stay here”, Bobby said. “Bobby!”, Dean snarled.

Bobby rolled his eyes. “Keep your pants on, Dean”, he sneered. “And I mean literally. At least until we’ve left the room”. He rolled towards us. “You don’t think we’ve noticed how you’ve been missing this girl?”. Dean met my eyes for a second. “It’s not safe”. “It’s never safe, son”, Bobby said. “But this place is warded better than any other I know. As long as Lulu doesn’t leave, she should be fine. And maybe you can get that stick out of your ass, and be able to do the job”. Dean scoffed. “So, now I can’t do the job?”, he grunted. “Not well”, Sam muttered. “You…”, Dean said; pointing at his brother. “Shut up!”.

I sighed and looked at Sam. “You said you brought alcohol?”, I muttered. “Give it”. Dean shook his head. “No”, he said. “No alcohol. Call Rufus. Have him take her”. “I’m really feeling the romance in the room”, Bobby grunted. “I’m beat. Going to bed”. He rolled out the door, and down the hallway. “And I’m going to go… away from here”, Sam said; almost running for the stairs. Dean and I stood for a moment in silence; before I stepped towards the kitchen. “Well, I’m having a drink”, I said.

Suddenly, his hand was on my wrist, and he pulled me towards him – wrapping me in his arms. I couldn’t fight the urge; and embraced him right back. “Are you ok?”, he breathed. “Yeah… just confused”, I muttered. Dean pulled back a bit, and looks me in the eyes. “You’re here… I should have… I don’t know what to say”.

“Try an I’m sorry!”, Bobby called from down the hall.

Dean looked towards the hallway, and frowned. “I’m sorry”, he muttered. “I know that’s probably not the welcome you had expected”. “I don’t know…”, I grunted. “It’s not the first time you pulled a knife on me”. “Yeah… sorry. Again”. I sighed. “Can open a window, and let in some air? This place smells like old farts”. He smiled slightly. “Hex bags. We made some earlier. The smell goes away after a while… How have you been?”, he asked. “Fine… I guess. It took a while to heal properly since… last time”, I said. Dean frowned. “But you’re better. Right?”. I nodded. “I’m… living. Moving on”. “Good”, he said. “That’s… good. That you’re moving on, I mean”.

He cleared his throat, and let go of me. The separation was almost painful. “Thanks for checking in, by the way…”, I said. “Castiel’s been a real hoot”. Dean didn’t meet my eyes. “I should have called”. “Yeah, you should have”, I muttered. “You didn’t call either…”, he said; a slight accusation in his voice. I looked at him in indignation. “You told me you were going out to stop the devil”, I said. “I didn’t figure I should be the one to check in”.

I sat back down on the couch and yawned. “Let me go put away the groceries, and I’ll show you where to sleep afterwards”, he said. “Sounds good”, I said quietly. I pulled my legs up under me, and leant my head against the armrest. The smell of the hex bags had dulled; and I now noticed another scent – one of gunpowder, wood and metal. The hunter smell, I thought to myself. My eyes began drooping, and the last thing I noticed was a soft kiss to my temple, and a blanket being tucked around me.

“Goodnight, Lou”, Dean whispered.

---

The sun hitting my face woke me up. “Mornin’ kid”, Bobby muttered from his table. “Fresh coffee on the pot”. “Thanks”, I rasped. I got off the couch, and stretched. “Where are the guys?”, I asked. “Checking on a lead”, Bobby grunted. “Grab me a cup?”.

I went into the kitchen, and filled two mugs with coffee; bringing one over to the desk. “Demon stuff?”, I asked. Bobby shook his head. “Ghost”, he said. “Yankton…”. I frowned. “Yankton… I’m in South Dakota?”, I asked. “Yeah… you’re about 600 miles from home”, he said. “Well, that’s just great”, I muttered. “And this is your place?”. “Singer Scrap”, he nodded. “Good cover”. A scrapyard owner. I knew it, I smiled to myself.

I looked over the many books and papers strewn about the room. A row of phones were hanging on the wall; each with a sticker on it, letting Bobby know what persona he’d need to take on when he picked up. The was an old cookie-tin filled with different fake id’s – FBI, Wild Life Service, Sheriff’s badges; the list went on.

“You have a pretty bad-ass setup here, Bobby”, I said. “Also 100% illegal I’m guessing”. “This job isn’t exactly easy to do if you follow the rules”, Bobby said. I sighed. “Is there anything I can help with?”, I asked. “What, are you bored?”, Bobby smiled. “Yes”, I nodded. “You can make lunch; it’s almost noon”, he said. “I don’t cook… but I know how to order a pizza”. Bobby frowned. “I’ll call the boys, have them bring something back”. I shrugged.

Bobby narrowed his eyes at me. “Did you… uhm… kiss and make up last night?”, he muttered. I chewed my lip. “Not exactly… He seemed preoccupied”, I said. Bobby chuckled. “That’s Dean for you”, he said. “Always so busy trying to save everyone else, he doesn’t see when his own salvation is staring him right in the face”. “I don’t know if I’m a salvation, exactly”, I said. “I’m a bartender from Denver with a teaching degree”. “Maybe you can teach him some manners”, Bobby grunted and returned to his document. “Grab me that magnifying glass over there”, he said, and pointed towards the coffee table.

I handed him the magnifier, and picked up an amulet that caught my eye. It was almost glowing in the sunlight. “Put that down”, Bobby yelled. I almost jumped, and dropped the chain to the table. “Sorry”, he muttered. “I haven’t been able to break the curse on it yet… and I’m pretty sure you’d be a lot less pretty with an extra nose stuck to your chin”. “It’s cursed?”, I asked. “Maybe you should lock it up somewhere”. “Tried that”, he grunted. “It reappears there every time I do”. I studied the amulet closer. “Hoodoo, right?”, I muttered. Bobby looked at me. “Is it?”, he asked. “I think so… It looks like a sigil I saw once, in a book”, I said. Maybe cover it in goofer dust, and bury it in an old grave…”. I met his incredulous eyes, and blushed. “Or, something else. I don’t know”.

He narrowed his eyes at me. “What do you make of this?”, he asked, and pushed an old newspaper clipping across the table. I read through the text. “Another strange case of a dead body in Yankton this month, when Thomas Clayton was found near Yankton Municipal Cemetary – his neck broken; and his lower body buried into the ground. He leaves behind a wife and two children…”. “Sounds like a myling”, I muttered. Bobby frowned. “How’d you know about those?”, he asked. “I read… a lot”, I replied. He looked at me disbelievingly. “You call studying Scandinavian ghosts leisurely reading?”. “I was almost killed by two supernatural beings”, I shrugged. “Thought I’d study up in case anything happened again”. “Huh…”, Bobby said. “So, you think it’s a myling”. “I’m no pro, so I wouldn’t know for sure”, I said. “But the half-buried thing? And just outside a cemetery… More like he was forced to carry a ghost on his back; but didn’t make it to hallowed ground”. The corner of Bobby’s lip raised in a crooked smile. “But you already knew that”. “Was beginning to come to that theory myself”, he said. “You have some knowledge in that head of yours, kid”. I blushed again.

There was a knock at the door. I looked through the kitchen window. Outside stood a darkhaired policewoman. “It’s the cops”, I muttered. “Crap”, Bobby groaned. “Woman? Looks like she eats nails for breakfast?”. I looked again. “Yup…”. Bobby began rolling away from the view of the windows. “I’m not here”, he said. I shook my head. “Fine, I’ll talk to her”, I said, and walked to the front door, opening it.

“Hello”, I smiled at the woman. She looked mistrustingly at me. “Miss… I’m sheriff Mills. Is Bobby Singer in?”. I shook my head. “He’s out…”. “Out cold?”, she grunted. “Bobby! Roll your ass out here”.

Bobby appeared behind me. “Sheriff…”, he grunted. “What did I do this time?”. The sheriff sighed. “Your neighbors have been reporting strange smells from your house”. “Stranger than usual? This is a scrap yard, sheriff”, I smiled. She narrowed her eyes at me. “And you are?”. I thought fast. “Ann Wilson”, I said brightly; and reached out my hand to shake hers. “My niece”, Bobby said. “She’s staying with me to help out since my accident”. “All right…”, the sheriff said. “If you say so”.

I cleared my throat. “You were saying? About strange smells…”. “Yes”, the sheriff said. “You can’t be polluting the air with methane gas, Bobby. Your neighbors say the smell was so rancid, their eyes watered”. Bobby sighed. “Look, my nearest neighbor is 3 miles away. If any of them have been reporting any smells, it means they’ve been trespassing – and I’d be in my right to shoot them”. The sheriff clenched her jaw. “With what weapon? I don’t believe you have a license”. “I do”, I said. She lifted her brows. “Can I see it?”. I smiled. “I never mentioned a gun, or using one for that matter. So, you don’t need to”. She stifled a smile. Under different circumstances, I might have liked her. “If there’s nothing else, uncle Bobby needs to have his lunch now”.

“All right”, sheriff Mills said. “Just, keep down the stench, all right?”. “Absolutely”, I smiled. “Goodbye, sheriff”. She walked off the porch, and got in her car. I waved as she drove away. I turned to look at Bobby. “That was fun!”, I grinned. “Yeah, a real giggle of a time”, Bobby grunted, and went back into the living room.

One of the phones rang – one labeled CDC. Bobby picked it up. “Fisher here… Yes, he’s one of mine. He in some kind of trouble?... That’s ridiculous, son… No, you listen to me. Let him finish his job… Put him on”. I heard him mutter idjit below his breath. “Garth? You moron. You told them it was a strain of the plague?... Yeah… Give him back to me”. There was a pause. “Officer. Agent Fitzgerald is right. Let him look at the autopsy report… Thank you. Bye”. He hung up. “Stupid son of a bitch”. I chuckled.

Bobby began rolling towards his desk, when another phone rang – the one labeled FBI. I looked at him pleadingly. “Be my guest…”, he grunted. I picked it up.

“Nicks here”, I said. “Yes, hello ma’am. This is detective Alan Jackson from the Yankton PD”, a tired voice said. “I have two men here claiming to be FBI…”. My eyes lit up. “Let me guess. One is a 6’3 puppy, and the other looks like he’d flirt with your daughter right in front of you, and not be ashamed of it?”. “That sounds about right”, the man muttered. “Yeah, those are mine”, I said. “What’s the problem?”. “They want to examine the body of…”. “Thomas Clayton?”, I asked. “Yes…”, the man said. “And what seems to be the problem?”, I asked. “Well they don’t have the right papers to begin with”, he answered. “The FBI rolls into town, asking to oversee a murder-case, and you refuse them?”, I said. “Won’t look good on your yearly report, detective Jackson”. “Ma’am…”, the man began. “Look, I don’t have time for this. Put me on with your captain”. Bobby’s eyes widened, and he shook his head fervently. “Ma’am, I’m sure that won’t be necessary…”, the detective muttered. I scoffed. “No? Well, you’re not being very forthcoming with my men…”. “I’ll let them look, ma’am. Right away”. “Thank you. Please put the pretty one on”, I said. “Your boss wants you”, the man muttered, and I heard the phone change hands. “Hello?”, I heard Deans voice. “Speaker?”, I asked. “No”, he grunted. “Good. Bring back lunch. Bobby’s hungry”, I said. “Yes, ma’am”, Dean grunted, and hung up.

I put the phone back on its hook. “That was even more fun”, I grinned. Bobby chuckled. “You could come in handy, Lulu”, he smiled. “Good job”. “Thanks”, I said. “Bobby… you wouldn’t happen to have some shoes laying around I could use?”.

---

A few hours later Dean and Sam came back from Yankton. Dean looked like a thundercloud.

“What the hell, Bobby?”, he growled. “You have Lulu doing jobs now?”. “Just this one”, he smiled. “And she’s done a fine job, as well”. Dean stepped towards me with and gave me a searing look. “You don’t ever do that again!”, he roared. “Why?”, I frowned. “You could have had us thrown in jail!”, he said. “Horse crap”, I said. “You were fine”.

Sam put down some cardboard boxes on the coffee table. “We brought pizza”, he said. Bobby groaned. “We were in a rush”, Sam muttered. I grabbed a slice, and sat down on the couch; putting my feet on the table. Dean looked at me with hard eyes. “Comfy?”, he grunted. “Very”, I smiled. He cursed below his breath.

“Lulu’s got a theory on the ghost”, Bobby said. Sam looked at me with pleased surprise. “Really?”, he asked. “Tell us”. “A myling”, I said. “An unwanted child, killed by its parents; and buried in non-consecrated ground”. Dean frowned. I handed him a slice of pizza, and he accepted it without thanks. “A mew-what?”, he asked. “Myling”, Bobby said. “Tell ‘em, Lulu”.

I took a bite, and chewed enthusiastically. “It crawls onto people’s backs; wanting them to bring it to consecrated ground to rest”, I said; mouth full. “Usually, the weight of it on the victims back will make him or her sink into the ground before they make it all the way. The ghost will be pissed, and kill them – strangling them or breaking their necks”. “How do you know this stuff?”, Sam smiled. “She reads… a lot…”, Bobby muttered.

Dean looked at Bobby’s desk. “Where’s the cursed amulet?”, he grunted. “Covered it in goofer dust, and buried it out back with my old dog”, Bobby said. “Well, Lulu did”. I smiled, and wiggled my feet – on which I was wearing a pair of old loafers Bobby’s wife had used when she was alive.

“You shouldn’t be meddling with any of this”, Dean growled. I shrugged. “Your pet angel kidnapped me, and brought me 600 miles away; without my shoes or my phone. Might as well keep busy”. “Don’t you need to go to work?”, Dean grunted. “Yeah, like 3 hours ago”, I admitted. “I’m probably fired”. Dean frowned. “And you don’t care?” I looked at him exasperatedly. “Of course I care, Dean. My whole life is in Denver”, I sneered. “But you’re also telling me that angels and demons are out to kill me. Being there right now would just bring people in danger. I’m staying away… To keep them safe”.

Dean raised a brow at me. I realized then that’s what he had been doing. In his own way. “I called Cass. He’s gonna take you somewhere safe”, he said. I frowned. “Bobby said…”. “You’re leaving, Lou”, he said. “That’s final”.

“She can’t…”, Castiel – who’d appeared from nowhere – said. “Cass!”, Dean growled. “Get her out of here!” “There’s no where I can take her”, the angel replied. “You wanted her safe. She is safe here”. “Hardly”, Dean said. “We’re up to our necks on this case, and Ironside over there can’t even get off his porch on his own”. He gestured towards Bobby.

Bobby frowned at him. “Where do you want her to go, son?”, he asked. “Rufus is buried in vamps in Wichita, Martin’s in the psych ward… Ellen and Jo? That’s the only people I’d trust her to be safe enough with; and they’re dead!”. Darkness ghosted Deans face. “Lulu is safest here, Dean”, Sam said.

Dean shook his head, and looked everywhere but at me. “If you didn’t come to take her away, why the hell are you here, Cass?”, he snarled. “To give you this”, Castiel said. He pulled out a knife I recognized as being an angel sword. “We already have one of those”, Sam said. Cas shook his head. “It’s not for you, it’s for her”.

Castiel went to hand me the knife. Dean stepped between us. “Whoa… no, no, no. That’s not happening”. “Excuse me?”, I frowned. He looked at me indignantly. “You’re not gonna be walking around with a heavenly weapon in your purse”, he said.

I put down my pizza, and stood up – fully ready to smack him across the face. “I’m a grown ass woman, Dean. I can make my own decisions”. “Not this one”, he grunted. “You can’t even shoot a gun”. “I can shoot a damn gun; I told you!”. “And fight with an angel sword?”, he asked indignantly.

He took the sword from Castiel. “I’m keeping this. Having two is always handy”. “Dean, Lulu needs to be able to protect herself from my brothers”, Castiel said. “No”, Dean said. I stepped up to him; and looked him square in the face. “Give me my sword, Dean…”, I snarled. “Take it”, he smiled; and held the sword over his head – knowing full well I wouldn’t jump for it like some child. I looked at him with sad eyes. “I really don’t want to do this…”, I muttered. Dean chuckled.

I walked behind him, pretending to give up. “Good call, sweetheart”, he muttered. Quickly setting my foot between his own from behind, my knee between his; I crouched, leant forward, snaked my arm across his torso – and flipped him backward over my thigh – making him land with a bang on his back. “Ow…”, he gasped. “Roller derby”, I growled; and snatched the sword from him. “Thanks, Castiel”, I muttered.

The three men still standing, all looked at me in surprise. Sam bit his lips to stop from laughing. “Not funny, Sam!”, Dean growled from the floor. “Dude, she just railed your ass!”, his brother grinned.

Dean got on his feet, and stretched his back. “Fine!”, he roared. “Take the damn sword… That was cheating, though”. “Might have earnt me a penalty back in the day; but still my favorite move”, I muttered. “You’re just pissed you got beaten by a girl”. “That has nothing to do with it”, he frowned. “Women can fight…”. “I just can’t, is that it?”. He shook his head in indignation. “We’ll talk about this later”, he grunted coldly. “We have a case to get back to”. I smiled. “No, Lou. We have a case. You don’t”. I rolled my eyes. “Roll your eyes all you want, sugar. That’s what’s happening”.

I went into the kitchen, and grabbed a beer from the fridge – opening it, and taking a large sip. Castiel walked over to join me. “I take it you haven’t had intercourse yet”, he muttered. I grimaced at him. “Cass. Stay out of my sex-life. Ok?”. He nodded, looking almost embarrassed. “I just meant – seeing as Dean is still in a bad mood – you must not have…”. “Stop”, I said, and held out a hand at him. “You’ve done plenty of damage as it is”. “I apologize for that. It wasn’t my intention”. I sighed. “I know… you were just trying to help”. I looked up at him. “Look, Cass…”. He was gone.

I couldn’t help but feel bad about how I’d spoken to him. He was a friend – not just to Dean and Sam – but also to me.

---

The three hunters spent the next hours researching mylings; and it seemed Dean had to relent and agree that I had been right.

“So how do we get rid of it”, he grunted. I was seated on a kitchen chair, pretending to read a book on the with trials of Salem. “Salt and burn, like every other spirit”, Sam offered. “Yeah, except we have no idea where the kid is buried”, Dean said. “Bobby? Any ideas?”.

The elder hunter looked towards me. “She knows more about them than any of us…”, he muttered. “Yeah, well; she’s not a hunter”, Dean grunted. “Just, give it a rest, Dean…”, Sam sighed. “Get over yourself, and let Lulu help”. Dean rolled his eyes. “Roll your eyes all you want, sugar…”, I sneered. “Just… help us out here, kid”, Bobby said.

I stood up, and walked over to the desk. “Putting the spirit to rest by salting and burning sound good enough. But you could also just give it what it wants”. Sam narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean? Carry it to the graveyard”. “I don’t think you need to throw yourself into the fire this time, Sam”, I smiled; remembering how he’d almost let himself get killed by the maren, who had been haunting my dreams when we first met. “Find it’s parents…”. “They’re probably dead too…”, Bobby said. I shrugged. “Can’t you, like… summon them?”, I asked.

Dean scoffed, and chuckled. “Great idea; except that’s impossible”. “It’s not…”, Bobby said. “There are ways”. “Of course there are…”, Dean snarled. “Why don’t you three do this job, and I’ll go hit a bar. Don’t seem like you need me here anyway”. “Dean…”, Sam began. “No, really; Sammy. Go ahead. Looks like Lou’s got this one”, Dean said. He grabbed his jacket, and left the house.

“I’ll go talk to him”, Sam muttered. “No, I will”, I said. “This is on me”. Sam nodded, and I went out the front door.

---

[pcttrailsidereader]

Four Months Alone of the PCT

I posted this on this website about six years ago and just recently re-read this interview from a blog called ‘The Hairpin’.  The interview, with Myla Fay, a 25-year old thru hiker, is a good read and I thought worth re-posting.  My favorite story was her account of the hiker who found chapstick on the ground and used it to counter crotch chafing. A few minutes later a woman walked by and asked if anyone had seen her pina colada chapstick. From that point forward his trail name was “Penis Colada.”

Myla attended Carleton College in Northfield, Minnesota as did my daughter … which came to light when I forwarded this interview to my daughter as part of my desire to have her hike a section of the PCT several summers ago (which she did join me for a lengthy stretch).

By Jia Tolentino

How did you get into long-distance hiking? I grew up in Maine and spent a lot of time outside, and when I was a kid, we went up to Blue Hill every summer to hike and swim, camping in Baxter State Park and backpacking in the White Mountains. And in high school I did some incredible trips with the Chewonki Foundation: one was a 400-mile white-water canoe trip that ended in the tiny Inuit village of Kangiqsualujjuaq in northern Quebec. I always liked the outdoors, and backpacking felt like a good fit. I was also always interested in long-distance hiking as a more structured way of traveling. I spent a summer alone in India once and felt overwhelmed by all the decisions and planning involved in traveling. With hiking, your trip is organized around managing food and water and covering distance, and there’s less of an expectation for fun and relaxation. I like the part of backpacking that’s monotonous and challenging. How long had you been thinking about hiking the PCT before doing it? I heard about the PCT my senior year in college, but during and after college I was focusing on school and work: I worked as a designer in Minneapolis and New York, which I liked. Then I wanted to work on my own projects, so I moved back to Maine and set up a printmaking studio in the basement of a rural Zen Center. But it’s difficult to make any money from printmaking and it’s also difficult to live and work in isolation. I felt unsure about what I wanted to do, so I made a list of things I never regret doing. I realized that I never regret spending time outside, traveling, and challenging myself, so I decided to hike. I don’t think any 90-year-old would look back on life and regret hiking the PCT. Did you know you wanted to go alone? I might have considered it if I had known someone willing to drop everything and go hiking for four months. But I liked the idea of hiking alone anyway. Being alone is wonderful because you never have to compromise. If I felt like swimming all day, that’s what I did.

How long did it take to get ready? I only had about three months to prepare. Most people spend around six to 12 months getting in shape, dehydrating food, and planning. For me, I bought gear and read “Yogi’s Guide,“ which has advice for thru hiking—tips for hitchhiking, choosing campsites, resupplying, etc. It also outlines motel and grocery options for each town. I bought my food in towns and mailed food ahead when the next town was too small to resupply.

Do you have to be in good shape before you start a hike like this? Or could you just tough it out and get better as you go? You don’t have to be in good shape to start a hike, but it helps. It also helps to be young. No matter what shape you are in, hiking 10 to 12 hours a day is going to be hard. I thought that after hiking for a week or two I would just be “in shape,” but I was surprised that my fitness continued to improve.

I also never stopped having some degree of pain.

What was the gear you started with and the gear you ended with? Anything you packed that you realized was useless? I started hiking in desert heat and ended my trip snowshoeing through six feet of snow, but surprisingly I used most of my gear in all situations. After a month I bought a solar charger on trail to charge my iPhone, which was a real luxury. I also bought a dress from Goodwill along the way. It was comfortable to wear hiking and convenient for peeing outside modestly. I added various warm layers as I went north—a rain skirt (which is lighter, more breathable, and easier to put on than rain pants), an emergency blanket, snowshoes, long underwear, and bread bags to wear on my feet for warmth. I eventually ditched my mace, bug spray, and a mouse-proof food bag because I felt they were unnecessary, but not everyone would agree. Now that I have a better idea of what I need, I revamped my gear for my upcoming trip on the CDT. I have a post on my blog about the new gear, and also have my gear list on my website, if anyone wants to read.

What about trail food? How’d you deal with it? Did you filter your water the whole time? What are the worst and best things you’ve tried on the trail? Food was hard to plan for because my preferences and hunger changed constantly. Sometimes I had five extra pounds of food when I arrived in town and other times I ran out. One of the benefits of buying food as you go (rather than mailing it) is that you can easily make adjustments. I hiked with a girl who mailed all her food and by the end, she literally gagged every time she ate a Clif bar or oatmeal. I think having a variety of food on trail is important. I cooked ramen with PBR once when I arrived at a road crossing where someone had left a few beers for hikers. I was out of water, so I used the beer, and it was surprisingly delicious. At the end of trail, I ate snickers dipped in cream cheese and I thought it tasted like chocolate cheesecake! One of the worst things I tried was cold instant coffee mixed with oats. I was trying to pack up quickly in the morning and didn’t want to heat water. Needless to say, it was disgusting. I also once ate a spoonful of dry protein powder at night because I was starving and low on food. It felt similar to the cinnamon challenge. How much more do you end up eating than normal? What are the cravings you develop after long hikes? I ate a TON of food. Granola bars, mini pies, peanut butter, Nutella, tortillas, ramen, Cheezits, candy, muffins (squished), pop tarts, nuts, and anything else that caught my eye in the grocery store. All hikers fantasize about food, mostly about fresh fruits, vegetables, pizza, and ice cream. I daydreamed about Slurpees a lot. There is no food guilt on trail. All notions of what, when, and how much is appropriate to eat disappear. Instead of cutting calories and dieting, hikers worry about not eating enough. I ate 3,000 to 6,000 calories a day, and it was incredibly refreshing. The downside of eating so much was the stomach aches. Sometimes I would eat a whole sleeve of Oreos, which tasted delicious, then I would feel awful for a while. It’s a lot to ask of your body, to process all that food.

Did you see a lot of other solo hikers? Did traveling alone made you more open to meeting random people? Travelling alone does make it easy to meet people. Most hikers start alone, and many hike in groups for various lengths of time. When I started, I wanted to hike alone to challenge myself and rely on my own decisions. I became more open to meeting people over time, and by the end of trail I found a balance between independence and community. Who were the coolest people you met along the way? Everyone I met had an interesting back story—one couple worked in Antarctica, one girl sold her house to live out of a backpack, there were Marines who hiked to deal with PTSD, and people who left their high-paying jobs because they didn’t want to devote their lives to work. One of my favorite characters on trail was a retired guy from New Jersey. He lived years without health insurance or hot water, and took ice-cold hose showers every day at home, even in the winter. He told only one person he was hiking the PCT and always camped alone far off trail. He didn’t own a phone, but carried a small radio to listen to baseball games. Every time he went into town to buy food, he bought a glass, because he only drank beer out of a glass. He was also a scavenger. Once in town I gave him part of a cookie and he just packed it away for later. Another time he told me that he carried a cube of bouillon for an emergency meal. I told him it didn’t have any calories, and he said, “But it sure does fill you up!” I should mention that there are more men than women on trail, and most people I met were white and middle class, so unfortunately trail culture is not too diverse. How many times were you ever truly scared, and why? Most of the time trail felt very safe, but I had a couple moments of being spooked. I almost stepped on a rattlesnake. I once got lost looking for a spring at night without my pack. I got dangerously cold during a snowstorm. These situations were all preventable had I been paying better attention. Some hikers do end up in truly scary situations. One girl had a mountain lion stalk her at night, and another guy ended up lost on a snowy cliff where he couldn’t go forward or backward. Oh my god. A lot of people on trail carry a SPOT device with an emergency button that activates a search and rescue response team. They are expensive and I personally felt safe without one, but a few people did use them on trail.

What about weather conditions? You had to hike at night sometimes because of the heat, right? The PCT covers a diverse range of terrains and temperatures. In the desert, it reaches 110 degrees, and water sources are sometimes 30 miles apart. I carried 1.5 gallons of water at a time. Hiking at night is much cooler and requires less water, so many people hike early and late (resting midday). Night hiking is beautiful but spooky. Some huge bugs and rodents that come out at night. And then there was the extreme cold: I’m reading a blog post where you did sit-ups in the middle of the night to stay warm. What’s your least favorite and most favorite weather to hike in? I still prefer hiking in desert heat over the cold Northwestern weather. In Oregon and Washington, I dealt with rain, hail and snow, which is dangerous without adequate food and gear. Most people carry down jackets and sleeping bags, but down is useless when wet. When it is cold, taking breaks is not an option. I knew one couple who hiked over 24 hours without stopping because all their gear was wet and it was snowing. They would have become hypothermic if they stopped. Can you tell me some hiker code? What’s the jargon like? There are lots of phrases specific to thru hiking. Some are practical (“slackpacking” is hiking a section without a full pack, “hiker hunger” describes the extreme hunger after hiking, “vortex” is when you spend longer than expected in town). A lot of them are meant to be funny (“Vitamin I” for ibuprofen). “Cowboy camping,” sleeping under the stars, is one of my favorite terms. It’s basically a fancy way of saying “I am too lazy to pitch my tent and I doubt it is going to rain tonight.” My friend “Scrub” has a more extensive list of hiking terms on his blog.

That’s his trail name: does everyone have one? Everyone gets a trail name, usually given by another hiker. Part of the idea is that you can leave your other life behind and be someone new on trail. And there’s other stuff like this: trail angels, trail magic, what does that mean? A “trail angel” is anyone who helps you by offering “trail magic.” It could be a day hiker who gives you an apple or someone who drives you to town. There are established trail angels who help hikers each year by leaving food or sodas on trail or even opening their homes to hikers. There are also some trail magic events, where angels make burgers or pancakes on trail for a day or two. It is hard to overstate how incredible it is to come upon fresh hot food or cold sodas after being out in the woods for a few days. The terms seem right. How was your emotional state going into the hike, and during it? What was the default state of each day? I was much happier on trail than I was prior to trail. Some of that may have had to do with the endorphins released from exercise. I also gained a lot of confidence in my body and my ability to troubleshoot difficult situations. By the end of the trail, I felt I could do anything. I certainly had moments of frustration, crankiness, and misery, but I always preferred trail to home.

Wow. What did you do to pass the time? It wasn’t too different from regular life. Sometimes I listened to music or books, sometimes I worried about logistics, sometimes I wondered what to do with my life. I thought about family and friends and remembered things I had forgotten. Sometimes I played games with other hikers, sometimes I counted my steps, sometimes I brushed my teeth for an hour. What are some good stories you heard on the trail from other people? There was a huge snowstorm in Washington that coincided with the government shutdown, and some hikers decided to road walk the last 60 miles to Canada to avoid deep snow. Rangers stopped them because it was illegal to be in the park during the shutdown. So after hiking 2600 miles, they quit because of a triviality. I also heard a story about a girl who saw a mountain lion sitting next to the trail. She roared at it, like you are supposed to (you never want to let a mountain lion know you are scared), then kept walking past it only to realize that there was a switchback in the trail and she had to pass it again. And then, there was a funny story about a hiker I never met who found chapstick on the ground and used it for crotch chafing. A few minutes later a woman walked by and asked if anyone had seen her pina colada chapstick. From that point forward his trail name was “Penis Colada.” That is a great story. What was your favorite part of the trail?

The last four days on trail were my favorite. I snowshoed on fresh snow through the most spectacular scenery on trail with a boy who I like very much. It was new and exciting and beautiful and romantic. What about the least? Southern Oregon was my least favorite part. Everyone talks about how Oregon is flat and easy, but my feet were hurting so it didn’t feel easy. In my opinion, it was also the least spectacular part of trail, just woods and ponds.

What was your favorite pit stop? One of my favorite stops was Buck’s Lake, a small town in northern California. I got off trail to apply for a job. I didn’t end up getting the job, but I stayed with the most incredible trail angels. They were welcoming and made burgers with heirloom tomatoes and peach cobbler and fruit salad. They also took me out on their pontoon for sunset to drink white wine and listen to the Beach Boys.

What did you miss most while you were hiking? Fresh fruits and vegetables, and my friends and family. How did this hike physically affect your body? I lost about 5 to 10 pounds by the end, despite gaining muscle. My breasts mostly disappeared and my feet grew a full size. Women usually lose less weight than men, which is an advantage on trail. What about your hair? My hair was crazy on trail. I was trying to grow it out, but it was a bad length for hiking: long enough to tangle and too short to pull back. I had dyed it before trail and wanted to let the dyed part grow out. I also decided to stop using shampoo, in part thanks to articles like this. Needless to say, my hair was a bleachy, greasy, tangled mess. I cut it off when returned home. Before or after, did you have a lot of people telling you that they wanted to hike the PCT too? Or were people more like, "You’re nuts!” A lot of people say something along the lines of, “Wow, that’s amazing! I could never do that!” But hiking is kind of like drawing. People say they can’t draw, as if it’s a mysterious talent, but both drawing and hiking are just a set of skills anyone could learn. If you are interested in hiking the PCT or another trail, I would encourage you to go ahead and do it. I think it is almost always a positive experience, although returning to regular life is difficult. People sometimes romanticize long-distance hiking, but I was just walking. Some people work 8 or 10 hours a day on spreadsheets or washing floors and few people say that is amazing. What’s your favorite picture from your PCT hike?

This is a campsite on an exposed ridge in northern California. The sky was smoky from a nearby fire, but I could see well enough to watch a meteor shower. It’s hard to choose one photo, but that was a good night.

[vinca-majors]

Michaela Brown, ScaryMommy:

Upon graduating college with my hard-earned degree to teach high school English, I almost immediately began planning for  my graduate studies. Lots of high schools around the country require their teachers to have a masters degree, so that was a motivator. Plus, it came with a pay raise. And, I truly enjoyed going to school. In fact, at the time, I hadn’t ruled out going on and earning my doctorate as well.

I did end up graduating with my M.A. in secondary education, after writing a thesis I’m damn proud of. My path changed a bit and I never went on for my doctorate, but you can be sure as hell if I had that I’d claim that Dr. title. That my students—even the grumpiest of teenagers whose eyes shot daggers at me as I made them read Shakespearean sonnets—would be calling me Dr. and not Mrs. or Miss.

And as I’ve encountered other professionals with that Dr. title, I’ve never hesitated to refer to them that way. My children’s formal principal went by Dr. Matthews. No one questioned it. I’ve had professors at the undergraduate and graduate level use the title. Again, that’s what we all called them. With respect. And without hesitation. Just as we refer to famous figures like a man we’ve all heard of—Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.— because each of these people put in the work, the years, the money, the commitment, and the dedication. Each of them earned their Dr. title.

So yeah, when Dr. Jill Biden completed her education and earned her Doctor of Education (Ed.D) from the University of Delaware, she rightfully earned the title “Dr.” and deserves to be referred to as such. Just as any other professional with that level of expertise does as well. Is she a medical doctor? No. Does she claim to be? No. Have professionals in academia added Dr. to their titles once they’ve earned their doctorate for centuries? Yes.

However, because some ignorant asswipes remain stuck in 1950, or don’t understand how higher education works, or simply are bound and determined to hate on the Bidens as they hated on the Obamas even though they are kind and supportive of others—regardless of political party, her title is under scrutiny.

The Wall Street Journal stupidly published an op-ed, which has now gone viral, that was moronically entitled, “Is There a Doctor in the White House? Not if You Need an M.D.” And, of course, this piece of trash essay included a byline that reads, “Jill Biden should think about dropping the honorific, which feels fraudulent, even comic.”

Joseph Epstein, the “writer” of this ignorant word vomit, opens by condescendingly calling Dr. Biden “kiddo” and offering her advice, as if he is in any position to advise the First Lady of the United States on literally anything. “Madame First Lady—Mrs. Biden—Jill—kiddo: a bit of advice on what may seem like a small but I think is a not unimportant matter,” Epstein mansplains.

He then goes on to insult her dissertation on student retention at community colleges, calling it “unpromising” and, in the same paragraph, refers to the idiotic but commonly used quip that no one can call themselves “doctor” unless they’ve delivered a child.

Let’s break this bullshittery down, shall we? First of all, Mr. Epstein, your piece reeks of envy. We’re sorry you didn’t have the… guts? courage? stamina? intelligence level? (who knows) to actually ever earn a doctorate, but you sound bitter. It’s not a good look. Also, it’s clear that you don’t respect the value of community colleges, which is where Dr. Biden has spent a large portion of her career. And, finally, the world now knows that you are threatened by smart women. Bravo.

Also, we’ll be sure to let all the medical doctors out there who’ve tirelessly fought COVID-19 this year, holding the hands of dying patients, and also those brilliant scientists who thankfully have brought us a vaccine that offers a beacon of hope, that they don’t get to call themselves “doctor” because they’ve never caught a newborn baby. I’m sure they’ll appreciate that tidbit of info from you—*checks notes*—a man with one single undergraduate degree, no earned doctorate, and zero medical expertise.

Basically, Mr. Epstein, it’s obvious that you have some personal issues you need to unpack. Maybe take some time over the holidays to do a little self-reflection? Like, why do you even care what title Dr. Biden goes by? Why are you so scared of women who are more successful than you?

Your piece then goes on a long, barely coherent rant about “honorary doctorates,” which is not what Dr. Biden has. If you’d like to blast the validity or point of bestowing honorary doctorates on celebrities like Stephen Colbert and Seth Meyers, for example, go right ahead, but that has nothing to do with Dr. Biden. This lack of cohesive argument is why I’ve referred to you as a “writer” a few paragraphs up, because it seems apparent that you don’t understand the need for basic textual support.

(Calling you a jealous asswipe, well, that’s just a reflection of your character.)

Finally, your last “supporting argument” (again, use of quotes intentional here) as to why Dr. Biden should drop her title is because apparently doctorates don’t count anymore. Back in the day, you explain, doctoral exams were far more grueling, but today’s candidates get off way too easy.

“One had to pass examinations in two foreign languages, one of them Greek or Latin, defend one’s thesis, and take an oral examination on general knowledge in one’s field,” your op-ed states. “At Columbia University of an earlier day, a secretary sat outside the room where these examinations were administered, a pitcher of water and a glass on her desk. The water and glass were there for the candidates who fainted. A far cry, this, from the few doctoral examinations I sat in on during my teaching days, where candidates and teachers addressed one another by first names and the general atmosphere more resembled a kaffeeklatsch.”

(I had to look up what kaffeeklatsch meant—it’s an informal social gathering at which coffee is served. Excuse my lack of knowledge there. I’m just a silly woman with a higher degree than you.)

And, as you end with, “Dr. Jill, I note you acquired your Ed.D. as recently as 15 years ago at age 55, or long after the terror had departed,” you not only insult her by addressing her as “Dr. Jill”, but you also imply that because she likely didn’t faint while taking her exams or defending her dissertation, that somehow her degree isn’t real.

That’s the crazy thing about education—it evolves. Today, kids even use these neat little things called computers! You wouldn’t believe it. Another way we’ve evolved is to realize that shockingly, our doctoral candidates don’t have to become physically ill to prove they are smart and worthy of their degree!

(I mean, you never even tried, Mr. Epstein, so I guess even today, doctoral programs are only for the toughest among us, like Dr. Jill Biden.)

Also, it seems that Northwestern University, where you were previously listed as “emeritus lecturer of English,” has scrubbed you entirely from their website, stating that it is “firmly committed to equity, diversity and inclusion, and strongly disagrees with Epstein’s misogynistic views.” Again, evolution! Change is good.

Hmmm. So one of you is a misogynist with no teaching history to even brag about as your previous employer has disassociated with you, and another is a successful educator committing to helping all Americans have access to a proper education. Oh, and the second one goes by Dr.

Looks like the real “comical fraud” is you, bruh.

And just so we’re clear, Dr. Biden has always been committed to ensuring that everyone (not just pretentious twats like you, Joseph Epstein) has access to a fair education. Earlier in her career, she worked in a psychiatric hospital where she taught English to adolescents with emotional disabilities. During that same time she also earned two (yes, TWO) master’s degrees, one from Villanova University and one from West Chester University. In 2009, after earning her doctorate, she began teaching English at Northern Virginia Community College, and advocating for community college education has since been her passion. “Dr. Biden has always said that community colleges are ‘one of America’s best-kept secrets.’ As a teacher, she sees how community colleges have changed the lives of so many of her students for the better,” explains former president Barack Obama’s White House website.

Sorry, Mr. Epstein, but not everyone can afford to enroll in an English class at Northwestern taught by a raging sexist who gets his balls in a bunch when women succeed. For many, community college is a better fit, and Dr. Biden is a big part of that.

“In 2012, she traveled across the country as part of the ‘Community College to Career’ tour to highlight successful industry partnerships between community colleges and employers,” the website goes on to say. “In the fall of 2010, she hosted the first-ever White House Summit on Community Colleges with President Obama, and she continues to work on this outreach on behalf of the Administration – frequently visiting campuses, meeting with students and teachers, as well as industry representatives around the country.”

Imagine all of the hard-working Americans Dr. Biden has helped by supporting community colleges. Future teachers just like her often get their degree while working full time, raising a family, and going to college at night. Who knows, some of them may even—gasp—go to grad school too. High school kids who choose to forego going away to a full-time university and instead, take classes at a community college closer to home, are given that option because of people like Dr. Biden. Kids who go on to be EMTs, police officers, technicians in trade industries, engineers, and find success in the business world. Or, they transfer those college credits to a larger university down the road when they have the means to do so. Single moms doing their best to give their children a good life often attend community college classes online, after their children are asleep, proving that they have the drive and determination to do more and be more.

So, what it all boils down to, Mr. Epstein, is that you really, really hate that there’s about to a woman in the White House who’s smarter than you. And not only that, but she inspires women everywhere to work hard, earn their degrees, and then they’ll be smarter than you too. Yikes. That’s a tough pickle to be in, Mr. Epstein. We’re sorry that you are so insecure and unhappy with your own lack of success.

At least you can still wrote those stellar op-eds though! Good luck with your “writing” career, kiddo.

[lovelyirony]

“Dance with me.” For brucethor please!

Bruce didn’t dance. Ever. For all of his illustriously short career as a human being, Bruce had danced probably once, and that was at his Aunt Rebecca’s wedding. When he was three. 

After that, there was no dancing. A little something along the lines of “my dad fucking sucks and I hate him a lot, he’s too controlling” etc., with added trauma blah blah blah. 

“You going to homecoming this year?” Tony asks. Tony Stark is someone who Bruce never thought he’d be friends mainly because a.) Tony Stark is not afraid to act like an asshole to literally anybody, and b.) Most of the rumors are not true and started by Tony himself, who likes to weed out the people he doesn’t want ot hang out with. 

“No,” Bruce says. “I have a college exam to study for.” 

“How many are you taking, fifty? There’s not that much. Besides, you want to go to Culver and they’re practically offering to pay you a livable salary to go there.” 

“No college pays a livable salary to students, they’re delusional,” Bruce says with a shrug. “But I want to make sure my back-up colleges will accept me as well.” 

“Just apply for a school in Florida, they take anyone. Case in point, Justin Hammer got offered a place at Florida State.” 

“I’ll check that one off my list.” 

Tony laughs, taking another cracker out of his lunch. 

“But seriously, you should go to homecoming. Everyone does, and it’s your senior year. You should get some new experiences in besides studying for a new biology course that you’re taking online.” 

“Harvard let one out, I think I might apply for that.” 

“Ugh, you’re so boring.” 

“You’re the one who sits with me at lunch every day,” Bruce reminds him. “I’m so sure that Bucky Barnes would just be dying to have you sit with him. Or just be with him.” 

Tony turns to see Bucky staring at him across the table. 

“That’s ridiculous. He’s probably looking at the lunch menu for tomorrow. Speaking of, if it’s cheese pizza I’m going to barf.” Bruce rolls his eyes, but doesn’t bother to tell Tony that Bucky thinks he built the universe. 

“You’re a millionaire, I’m sure Jarvis could get you some caviar or whatever it is our government officials eat.” 

“I’m not part of the government, darling.” 

“You’re made of money, you have more sway than the president,” Bruce says. 

Tony thinks it over, humming. 

“True. Think I could get sustainable energy bills passed if I make the conservatives think it’s their idea?” 

“Possibly. You’d have to dumb it down way more than you did for Rumlow.” 

“Shoot me,” Tony moans, slumping down on the table. 

Bruce snorts, glancing to the clock. He starts gathering up his things and taking all the trash and recycling to the correct bins. 

They walk together, and Bruce tries very hard not to see Thor barging down the stairs, laughing loudly with Brunnhilde Valkyrie and Carol Danvers as they go for the next lunch shift. 

“I think Thor doesn’t have a date to homecoming,” Tony says. “And you’d be great arm candy.” 

“About as good as Red Vines,” Bruce mutters. 

“Your hatred of that candy knows no bounds.” 

“It shouldn’t even be legally called candy, I think anyone who eats it is a freak of nature.” 

“Very true. We should banish them to Siberia.” 

Tony and Bruce don’t share the next class. Tony is taking some anthropology class solely so he can have a class with both Rhodey and Pepper. Bruce doesn’t know why people think Tony is this suave asshole who has no friends, because Tony is about the most affectionate guy on the planet. 

The last hour of the day is Bruce’s favorite. It’s a cinema class, one that’s required this year because Bruce has exhausted the school of every possible science credit and math credit. 

“You need to take some arts,” Bruce’s counselor, Mrs. May said. Melinda May is a very terrifying woman who has deceptively nice desk decorations that usually indicate a woman who likes to talk about tea. Mrs. May asked Bruce if he knew how to throat-punch someone, and if he would like to learn. 

“Um, how is that relevant?” 

“It’s not. But you do well in school, it’s clear you care about your grades. I have nothing to discuss with you since you’ve done college applications early and applied for financial aid and scholarships. You’re basically a very responsible eighteen year old. So, do you want to learn how to throat-punch someone?” 

He does learn, and he also learns that he needs at least one more art credit. 

But the cinema class is one of the easiest classes. Everyone knows that it’s basically just watching a movie, writing a one-page reflection, and you occasionally get to nap. Bruce usually finishes up some applications, gets a snack in, and stares at Thor. 

Not in that order. Sometimes he needs to stare at Thor first. 

Thor is a very attractive person. He is smart, compassionate, and has very nice arms. He also knows how to care for long hair. This is a plus in many people’s books, Bruce’s included. 

Thor loves watching the movies and talking with friends in low tunes. Bruce sometimes gets involved in this discussion if they’re watching an interesting movie. Bruce likes that, that Thor turns and asks him what he thinks. 

The movie they’re watching currently is a musical, something Bruce rarely likes because he was forced to take a theater class last year, and now he legally can’t be around theater kids if he wants inner peace. 

It’s The Sound of Music. Bruce likes looking at the scenery. 

“Bruce, what do you think about it?” Thor asks. 

“Um…I really like the scenery. And Julie Andrews is always a good choice.” 

“I agree.” 

It’s quiet after that, until the DVD player shorts out and the teacher runs to the IT department, which probably won’t do something unless they pull Tony out of his class to fix it. 

The conversations flow evenly over the classroom, and Bruce focuses back in on his application for a new science course for the summer. If he can fit in one more credit hour, it shortens his college by one year, meaning he can graduate in three years instead of four, and then look onto graduate school. 

“What about homecoming?” Sif asks Thor. “I’m taking Jane, we’re shopping for suits soon. Who are you taking?” 

“I’m not sure,” Thor says. “Haven’t found anyone since Val decided to take Helen.” 

Bruce perks up a little bit. He doesn’t know why he does, because it’s not like he wants to go to homecoming anyway. 

Well, he wouldn’t mind it. Sure he’d need to buy a too-expensive shirt, but then he could use that shirt again for any official business meetings when he applies for internships, so–

“Bruce, what are you doing?” 

Bruce blinks, looking at Thor. 

“Um, right now I’m trying to sign up for a new biology class, so uh…” 

“I meant for homecoming.” 

“Oh!” Bruce is surprised. “Um, I don’t know. I was thinking about staying, but I’m not sure yet. I heard that Pepper’s really trying hard this year to get better decorations.” 

“Dude, then it’d be totally worth it,” Sif says. “If Pepper’s in charge, that means this homecoming won’t be the fiasco it was last year.” 

Last year, they did not have a good homecoming, Bruce heard. Pepper had an extended leave due to personal circumstances. She’s basically the backbone of the planning committee, and she had not started seriously training the newbie, Darcy. The homecoming the worst in existence, especially since the principal chose the music and all of it was from the early 2000s. 

“I might, I don’t know. I have no idea what Tony’s doing. He wants me to go, but I think Bucky might ask him.” 

“Barnes thinks Tony Stark hung the world on its axis,” Thor says, grinning. “But hey, you could always come with us.” 

“Um…okay. That’d be great.” 

So Bruce has homecoming plans. 

Tony doesn’t know about this until a week later, when they’re sitting at lunch together and Tony is telling him all about the homecoming ask that he had gotten from Barnes, which was very ridiculous and completely made Tony cry when he got home. 

(Not that Tony would ever admit to this, but he snapchatted Bruce at least fifteen different videos of what were essentially keysmashes in vocal chords.) 

“So, have you changed your mind about homecoming?” 

“Um, Thor asked me to be part of his group.” 

Tony’s eyes bug out. 

“Thor asked you out?!” 

“What? No!” Bruce says. “He just told me I could join the group. So I need a shirt.” 

“If you decide to wear that ugly yellow one your grandmother got you two years ago, I will literally kill you.” 

“It’s not that ugly.” 

“That yellow is from 1978 corporate business in Milwaukee, it’s disgusting.” 

“I’ll be sure to find something else, then,” Bruce says dryly. “Maybe eggplant purple.” 

“I will make sure you go in Versace if you keep this up.” 

But Bruce goes shopping Friday afternoon with Pepper and Tony and Rhodey, who all have looks in mind. 

“What are you thinking about, Bruce?” Rhodey asks. 

“Um…I don’t know. A shirt? Maybe a tie?” 

“You’re not a tie guy,” Pepper answers. “We’ll find you a nice shirt that compliments your eyes. Also, how do you feel about a haircut.” 

“What kind of haircut?” 

“A good one, obviously,” Tony scoffs. 

So they sign him up for a hair appointment Saturday morning, and they look for nice shirts. 

Bruce will not dare wear anything that’s bright, like red or yellow or god-forbid the dark green shirt that Tony said made him look “amazing.” 

“That’s just…no,” Bruce says. “Green really isn’t my color.” 

“I think it fits you,” Tony says. “But whatever.” 

Bruce actually starts texting Thor, who is very funny and knows the memes that he likes. They talk about dinner plans for homecoming, and what restaurant to go to. 

“I just don’t want there to be a lot of people, you know?” Thor says at lunch. Bruce and Tony have started to merge their two groups of people now, who get along quite well after the initial groupchat make via Tony. 

“Yeah, me either,” Bruce says. “I really don’t want to run into someone like Rumlow.” 

“Well, what about fixing a dinner at someone’s house?” Pepper asks. “That way, it’s more cost-effective.” 

Tony agrees to host it because he and Rhodey are wanting to try a new pasta recipe and they can get the ingredients in bulk. 

“Did you end up picking out a shirt?” Thor asks. “I know that you hated the green one. I thought that looked good.” 

“You did?” Bruce asks, trying very hard not to blush. 

He failed. 

“Yeah,” Thor says. “Made the eyes pop. But you didn’t like it, so it doesn’t matter. What color are you wearing?” 

“Um, purple. A light one, though. Not anything that’s gross or anything like that.”

(Sometimes, Bruce really wishes that he could just. Speak normally in front of his crush. Actually, all the time.) 

“Cool. I bet you’ll look handsome.” 

“Thanks,” Bruce manages to get out, taking a sip of water. “And you’re gonna look great too. I mean, you always do, but like with a suit it’s different so–” 

“You think I look great?” 

“I’d be a fool not to,” Bruce answers automatically.  Then immediately regrets it because who the fuck says that???????? 

Tony gives him a look when he gives him a ride home. 

“You’re in too deep,” Tony says. 

“Quit quoting Sum 41 at me.” 

“Then quit avoiding the subject,” Tony says. “And I wasn’t quoting Sum 41. I just think you’re majorly crushing on Thor and you’re not going to do anything about it.” 

“Why would I?” Bruce asks. “This is the last year of high school, and he’s probably going to go somewhere else for college. You know I don’t like long distance.” 

“You don’t mind long distance, you do it all the time,” Tony says. “You push people away because you can’t imagine people wanting to care for you.” 

“Since when did you pass psychology with an A?” 

“Since I made Freud my bitch. I don’t wanna make you mad, Bruce, but I still think you should at least try with Thor. You deserve it.” 

Bruce sits in the car, sipping on his water. 

“I’ll consider it.” 

And he will. Because despite Tony usually making a joke out of everything and giving Bruce very useless advice all the time, he does have some moments of clarity. This is one of them. 

Tony’s one of the few people who knows why Bruce studies so much and wants to go far away from his house and why. Tony doesn’t blame him, because Tony hates being in the same room as his father and is uncomfortable when people show him affection without wanting something. But they’re both getting better. 

Besides. Bruce has a little bit of a feeling that usually people don’t say that they liked you in the green shirt if there’s not something there. But he’ll wait for the dinner. 

Bruce is glad that Pepper told him not to get a tie, he’s having trouble buttoning the shirt itself. He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous, or why he hopes to god that he doesn’t get pit stains on the shirt. He put on deodorant six times throughout the day, and nothing has happened, but he’s nervous. 

He gets to Tony’s half an hour early to help get the dishes and silverware out, and also hopefully be convinced that things are going to be fine. 

Dinner is nice. Thor sits next to Bruce specifically, and Bruce even gets so bold as to laugh out loud and ask if Thor will save him a dance. 

“For you? Of course,” Thor says. 

The dance looks beautiful. Pepper is making sure everything is good, make sure the sophomores deny Tony’s requests to play the most obscure songs he can think of, and that no one is getting too drunk with the drinks they smuggled in. 

Thor dances easily, while it takes Bruce a little bit to warm up. 

“Time for the couples dance!” A teacher announces cheerily. 

Bruce thinks to step back, watching as Bucky shyly takes Tony’s hand and leads him out. 

He’s surprised when he gets a tap on his shoulder. 

“Would you, ah, care for a dance? With me?” Thor asks. He seems nervous. Bruce blinks. 

“Um, shit. Yeah.” 

Bruce is not eloquent, but he feels it as Thor takes him around the room. He grins as he looks at Thor. 

“So. A couples dance. That mean anything?” 

“If you want it to,” Thor says. “I’d like to take you out on a date sometime, if you’re interested.” 

“I am,” Bruce says. “Most definitely I am. Besides, you said I still need to try the bakery by the bookstore off fiftieth.” 

“That can be our first destination.” 

They smile at each other, and for the moment everything is perfect. They don’t know what the future holds, but that’s okay. 

[vernonfielding]

Life Writes Its Own Stories

Chapter 5! (And AO3, of course.)

Amy had entertained the idea of becoming a cop for a while in high school. She’d been in her sophomore year, when all of the Real Life conversations were just starting at school: The AP kids were obsessed with the PSAT and everyone had to go to mandatory career fairs and Amy had even started getting a few college brochures at home. Amy’s plans – though thoroughly detailed and organized – only went as far as getting into a really good college, and then figuring out the rest from there. But she’d spent a lot of time imagining herself in different jobs, and her fantasies had carouseled around becoming an internationally renowned cancer researcher, the next Sonia Sotomayor, or the youngest captain in NYPD history.

(She’d occasionally daydreamed about life as a journalist, maybe working overseas somewhere. But an actual career had seemed profoundly unrealistic. Until, one day, it wasn’t.)

She’d eventually ruled out the first two careers – scientist and judge – because science kind of bored her, if she was honest, and she didn’t have the gravitas or the social intelligence to be a leader like Sotomayor. So by default she’d leaned into the captain fantasy.

At the same time, she started to notice how many late nights and weekends her father worked, and how some nights he came home with such a deep weariness in his shoulders that her mom just hugged him and held on. She saw, too, how cops were treated. Sure, there were the folks in their neighborhood who greeted Victor Santiago by name, who were proud to have a cop in their community. But she also heard the slurs shouted from passing cars and the hissed insults when she walked with him down the street. She knew what her friends in school said about cops. Some of their hate and distrust was earned – not by her father, but by other cops – but it still upset her. Victor Santiago was a kind, decent man, in a difficult, often thankless job.

Now, sitting at her desk at 10 p.m. on a Friday night, she felt angry on his behalf as she pored over the papers she’d been studying all week. Her father – and Jake, and other good cops – worked so hard for the people in this city, and these dumbasses in corrections were just blithely stomping all over people’s rights.

The irony of it, Amy knew, was that when her story ran most readers wouldn’t know, or care, that these jerks weren’t representative of all cops – they weren’t even part of the NYPD. Which meant that the good guys would get dumped on all over again. And there wasn’t anything she could do about it, other than write the truth.

Sometimes, Amy thought, this job sucked too.

The newsroom was quiet at this hour, the crackle of her police scanner unnaturally loud. Amy tipped the sound down a bit and stretched, lifting her arms over her head and looking around. Charles was the only other person in the newsroom, typing furiously. She assumed he was working on his personal food blog because the city desk deadline had passed an hour ago. Holt’s door was closed, the office dark beyond the blinds he’d left up. Amy sighed and flipped to the next page. There was another code she didn’t recognize so she added it to her growing list of numbers to look up later.

Beside the stack of papers, her phone suddenly vibrated, and Amy instantly smiled to herself. The screen lit up with a text from Pineapples: “OMG I have a killer story for you, literally killer. Call ASAP.”

Amy laughed out loud before she could stop herself, and slapped a hand over her mouth. She replied: “Stop it! You know I can’t write anything right now.”

“Oops sorry. Hold on, texting the Times.”

“Don’t you dare,” Amy wrote.

Jake replied with a shrug emoji, followed by a devil emoji and then a series of farm animal emojis.

Amy glanced at the time on her phone, and then the stack of papers in front of her.

She wrote: “What are you doing right now? I need dinner.”

“It’s 10 p.m.”

“I know,” Amy wrote. “Been a long day.”

She realized, belatedly, that she was acknowledging that she was working at 10 on a Friday night, and also that she had no friends to ask to dinner.

“Never mind,” she quickly typed. “I’ll grab something on the way home.”

“Meet me at Mario’s on Dekalb.”

Amy turned off her computer and stuffed her papers and her notebook into her purse and was out in three minutes. She called a goodbye to Charles over her shoulder but if he replied, she didn’t catch it.

Jake was leaning against the brick wall outside the pizza place when Amy walked up, slightly out of breath. He stood up straight when he spotted her.

“Hey,” she said. “Thanks for meeting me. You probably have way better things to do on a Friday night than talk to an annoying reporter.”

He grinned. “Usually, yes. But Rosa and I spent all day on a missing dog case for one of the Vulture’s gross frat bro friends so I haven’t eaten since- actually I don’t remember when.”

Amy gaped at him and said, “Is the Vulture a person?”

“Oh yeah, he’s our captain. Pembroke,” Jake said. “He’s the worst.”

“And Rosa is-”

“My partner.”

“The one who thinks talking to me is a terrible idea,” Amy said.

“That’s her,” Jake said, still beaming. “Shall we?”

He led Amy inside the pizza spot and up to the counter, where he tried to convince her to get the all-meat pizza that somehow had five different kinds of sausage on it. Amy opted for veggie instead. They took their slices the couple blocks down to Fort Greene, where they climbed a play structure, cold and empty this late at night, and ate with their feet dangling over the side of the slide tower.

It was an unseasonably chilly night, and Amy zipped up her jacket. Jake, she noticed, was wearing a leather jacket over his hoodie now, and for some reason the contrast made her grin – like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to be cool and sexy or cozy and sweet.

“What’s so funny?” Jake said, when she ducked her head to hide her smile.

“Nothing.” Amy took a huge bite of pizza, and Jake watched in what could have been alarm or awe as she chewed – and kept chewing – and finally swallowed. “This is really good pizza.”

“That was kind of disgusting,” Jake said, “but also impressive.”

“Thank you.” Amy made a show of dabbing her lips daintily with a napkin and Jake laughed. “Did you really have a tip for me tonight, or were you just messing around?”

“Totally messing with you.”

“Thank god,” Amy said. “This story is killing me.”

She droned on for a bit then, filling him in on the reporting so far. Holt had just that day given her another two weeks to work on the story, which Amy desperately needed and was grateful for, but it also added even more pressure. When she told Jake she was compiling a list of penal codes she still needed to look up, he offered to go over it for her to save her some time. Amy hesitated, because she didn’t technically need his help for that kind of work. Eventually she told him she could handle it, and he shrugged and focused back on his pizza. She got the sense he was disappointed.

“Everyone’s been really supportive at work, at least,” Amy said. “I was worried that they’d all be mad at me, since the other reporters have to pick up my slack while I’m busy with this stuff. But even Gina’s been leaving me alone, mostly.”

“Linetti?” Jake said.

“Yeah. You read her column?”

“Sometimes.” Jake popped the last bite of crust in his mouth and balled up the wax paper the slice had come on, tossing it toward a trashcan at the edge of the play area. “We grew up together.”

Amy grinned as the paper neatly landed in the trash. Then she frowned and said, “Wait, what? You know Gina? Gina Linetti?”

“Oh yeah,” Jake said. “All the way back to kindergarten. I actually sublet her apartment now.”

“How is that even possible?”

“Subletting isn’t that weird,” Jake said.

“Shut up, loser,” Amy said, when Jake grinned at her. “How is it possible that you are friends with Gina and I had no idea?”

Jake shrugged dramatically. “I guess you’re just not that good of a reporter?”

“Jerk,” Amy said, but she actually couldn’t help but feel a little bit like an idiot.

Gina was nosy as hell, and she’d known for a long time that Amy had a source in the NYPD who was based in Brooklyn. That she hadn’t let it slip that an old friend of hers was a detective at the Nine-Nine seemed like a deliberate omission. There was no way Gina would have been able to resist not lording that kind of connection over Amy.

She was also a little annoyed that Jake hadn’t said anything, though she wasn’t going to let him know it.

“Hey,” Jake said, contrite. “I was kidding, obviously.”

“Right, I know.” Amy tried to sound casual.

“Look, I would have said something but it didn’t even occur to me.” Jake leaned back against the play structure and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jacket. “Gina and I never talk about work – or my work, anyway. To be honest, I’m not sure she even remembers that I’m a cop.”

“That’s crazy,” Amy said, scooting back so she was sitting beside him.

Jake shot her a cynical look. “When she got her first reporting job, I told her that from now on everything I said about work was off the record. And she said, and I’m basically quoting here: ‘Fine, but you can’t talk about work anymore because it’s boring and I’m not going to be bored if I can’t even write about it.’ So I stopped talking about work. Like, ten years ago.”

Amy tried to process that but finally just shook her head. “Yeah, still crazy.”

“Well, that’s Gina.”

Amy didn’t get the sense that he was bothered by Gina’s lack of interest in his professional life – which was awful, because the line between personal and professional was incredibly blurred for most cops, to the point where it basically didn’t exist. In other words, if Jake was like almost every other cop she knew, his badge was his identity. It was everything.

But she supposed that indifference-bordering-on-negligence was a known hazard of a friendship with Gina. And Amy didn’t want to feel sorry for Jake.

Still, Amy wasn’t Gina – and she wasn’t bored.

“So, a missing dog case?” Amy said. “Really?”

“Oh yeah, it was such a waste of time. The Vulture’s always trying to give me and Rosa worthless cases but this one might have been the dumbest. The dog looked like a rat, Amy!”

Amy laughed, and Jake laughed with her, and then he launched into the Case of the Rat-Dog – capitalization noted – which had a surprising number of twists and turns, including a foray into a gelato shop that was really a mob front, and ended with the dog having simply run away to live with a better family than the Vulture’s frat-bro friend. Amy was in tears by the end and actually whooped in celebration when the dog found his forever-home.

“I can’t believe you spent your entire day tracking down a happy dog,” Amy said, wiping tears from her eyes. She was sitting cross-legged on the play structure, huddled into her jacket.

“I guess they can’t all be super cool undercover assignments,” Jake said with a sigh.

“You’ve gone undercover?”

“Sure, all the time. Once I spent six months with the mafia. But that story will wait for another night,” he said, and stood up, hissing and shaking his right leg as he got to his feet.

“Leg fell asleep?”

“Yeah,” Jake said. He pulled out his phone and his eyebrows shot up. “Which is what happens when you sit on a playground for two hours. Good lord.”

“We’ve been here that long?” Amy pulled out her own phone to check.

Jake nodded and held out a hand to her, and she took it and let him haul her to her feet. His hand was warm from his pocket and the touch sent a spark up her arm, making her shiver in a way she wasn’t sure was from the cold. He didn’t let go right away, and when Amy turned toward the stairs to climb down from the play structure, he tugged her in the opposite direction.

“You know we gots to slide,” he said, jerking his head that way.

“Jake, we’re too big-”

But Jake was pulling her in front of him, and he manhandled her onto the top of the slide and said, “Ladies first!” and gave her a shove. Amy screamed as she slipped down, surprised by how fast she was moving. She hit the lip at the bottom and toppled off, just barely managing to stay on her feet.

A second later Jake yelled, “Yippee ki yay, mother fucker!” He raced down, and when he hit the bottom he flew right off and slammed into Amy, knocking them both back into the sand.

Amy grunted as she landed hard on her back, surprised more than hurt. She felt Jake on top of her, and looked up to find his face inches from hers. She stared into his wide eyes, her heart pounding, and then he rolled off and scrambled to his knees at her side.

“Oh my god, are you okay? I had no idea that was going to happen, usually the kids’ slides aren’t that fast.” Jake’s hands hovered over her, like he thought he should be checking her for injuries but wasn’t sure if he should touch her. “Oh god, you’re hurt, aren’t you. Should I call someone? I should call 911. No, I can take you there myself. Can you walk? I can carry you to my car, I’m only a couple blocks from here-”

Amy bit the inside of her cheek. “Jake-”

“No, don’t talk-”

“I’m fine,” Amy managed before she broke down, laughing so hard she was practically wheezing.

Jake went quiet, and Amy sat up and tried to say something encouraging but just ended up collapsing into more laughter.

“I hate you,” Jake said, obviously fighting a smile. “Sincerely.”

“If you have a car,” Amy said, breathless, “could you give me a lift home? Or would you rather carry me?”

Jake smirked at her, then stood and brushed the sand off his legs before offering her a hand again.

+++

Late night dinners became a regular thing.

Jake got the feeling that Amy had reservations about how much time they were spending together, though she never said anything directly. She came armed every time with a question or request for him: a penal code she didn’t understand, his thoughts on something another source had told her, where she might track down some key piece of information she was missing. He helped when he could, but they inevitably ended up chatting about personal stuff after a few minutes.

He didn’t mind. They were both surprised to learn how similar their jobs could be, once they looked beyond who carried a gun and had the power to arrest people, and who actually knew how to use a semicolon and had the power, in theory, to take down the president of the United States.

They both regularly got phone calls from people who swore that airplane contrails were really secret government vaccination programs. They both had at least old person who sent them literal letters – like in envelopes, with stamps and everything – offering unsolicited advice on their jobs. Amy had an old woman who called her once a week to correct her grammar (“It’s not my fault! The copy desk is supposed to catch that stuff!”) and Jake had an old man who called every Tuesday to complain about the trash cans blocking his driveway after the garbage trucks came through (“I don’t know why he doesn’t call sanitation. Am I supposed to arrest the garbage man? Or woman?”). And, it turned out, both of them always answered those calls and listened and agreed that yes, their grandchildren should call more often.

“She just seems kind of lonely,” Amy said one night, as they shared a basket of deep-fried pickles at a bar all the way out in Bushwick. They tried to avoid the neighborhoods around the newsroom and the precinct and either of their homes, and though Amy didn’t always love the commutes, she had to admit it was kind of nice to shake up her routine.

“Yeah, Fred too,” Jake said. “Sometimes I wonder if he isn’t putting his own trash cans in the driveway just so he has an excuse to call me.”

They also shared somewhat pathetic dating lives. When Jake asked one night if she had a boyfriend, Amy shook her head and said she was determined to focus on her job for the moment. “I get it,” Jake said. “The NYPD doesn’t play very well in most relationships.”

They texted every day, and met up two or three times a week. Every now and then one of them would turn down the other’s invitation – they did have friends, or he at least assumed Amy did – but they usually made up for it in a day or two.

Only once did Jake hesitate with his reply, when Amy texted him late one Thursday afternoon. He’d had a rough day and he wasn’t sure if he could be his usual charming, and admittedly silly, self. After an hour, though, he texted back a thumbs up.

Amy had picked some weird sausage-based restaurant for this meeting, and Jake was relieved he didn’t have much of an appetite. He smiled when he saw her and gamely ordered a beer.

“You have to at least split a sausage platter with me,” Amy said. “My coworker swore this place is amazing but he has very questionable taste and I am not going into this alone.”

“Yeah, a friend of mine actually recommended this to me once but I couldn’t go through with it,” Jake said.

Amy ordered the platter and while they waited for the food she filled him in on the progress she’d made on the detention center story. Jake listened and nodded along, quietly drinking his beer. When he ordered a second pint, Amy looked him in the eye and said, “What’s up, Jake?”

He frowned and thought about saying nothing, nothing was up, but he didn’t really feel like lying. Instead he just shrugged, which felt passive-aggressive and pathetic but he wasn’t sure what else to do.

“Look, you don’t have to tell me anything,” Amy said, voice dropping as she leaned forward. “But you’ve obviously got something on your mind, and if you want to talk, you can.”

Jake was dismayed to feel the prickle of tears in his eyes, not from any particular grief or sadness but from the gentle tone of her voice, from the kindness she was showing him. He took a deep breath and turned away from her, willing himself not to cry. The waiter arrived then, setting a truly horrifying pile of sausage between them, and Jake couldn’t help but laugh. He blinked a few times, and his eyes were dry as he faced Amy again.

She answered his grin with a small smile of her own that didn’t reach her eyes. But as she picked up a fork and stabbed at one of the sausages – the look on her face could only be described as equal parts terrified, disgusted, and stubborn – Jake blew out a breath and decided to go for it.

“It’s not that big of a deal,” he said, opening his napkin and spreading it carefully over his lap just to have something to do with his hands. “One of my CIs died today.”

“That’s awful, Jake.” Amy dropped the fork, the sausage landing halfway on her plate and the table. “I’m so sorry.”

Jake shrugged, feeling a little like an asshole for coming across so callous, but he really didn’t do well with emotions. “He hadn’t been an informant for all that long, like three months maybe.”

“Still, you get to know them and rely on them,” Amy said. “They’re like your sources. Oh my god, I’d be devastated if something happened to you.”

Jake looked up at her and stared, feeling a little gut-punched.

“It’s not like that,” Jake said, softy.

“Not like what?”

Jake held her gaze, trying to ignore the tension that seemed suddenly strung between them, like a physical thing. He could feel his breathing coming too fast, could feel the slow flip of his stomach.

“Not like us,” he said.

He quickly looked down at his plate, coughed and cleared his throat.

“I mean, informants have a pretty short life expectancy as it is,” he said, trying to shift the subject. “They’re usually criminals, more often than not they’re talking to the cops just to keep themselves out of trouble or get a competitor off the street.”

“Right, of course,” Amy said. He glanced back up to see she was focused on her sausage again, cutting it up into bite-sized pieces but not actually eating. “Still, I’m sorry. Do you know what happened to him?”

“You mean, did he get nailed for snitching?” Jake said. Amy snapped her head up in alarm, already protesting, but Jake held up a hand and smiled faintly. “It’s okay, it’s the first question we ask. In this case, no, I don’t think so. He was found dead of an overdose.”

“Oh, that’s- good?” Amy said, flustered.

“Better than being shot, but that’s also an occupational hazard,” Jake said. He realized he felt hungry, for the first time since learning about his CI that morning, so he stabbed a sausage too. “One interesting thing, it looks like he OD’d on that new drug, Jazzy Pants.”

“Whoa, wait, new drug?” Amy said. “What’s this?” She was already digging into her purse, presumably for her notebook and pen.

Jake laughed and waved her off. “I swear, I don’t know anything else about it. The Vulture won’t let us investigate it because the Seven-Eight has a task force.”

“The 78th,” Amy muttered to herself as she wrote it down.

“Um, one more thing,” Jake said. Amy put away her notebook and looked back at him expectantly. “You won’t write about any of this, right? Like the CI, or, whatever?”

“Of course not.” Amy looked truly surprised. “Jake, this was personal. I would never do that to you.”

Jake let out his breath and nodded once. “I know. I know you wouldn’t. I just-”

“I get it,” Amy said. “Reporters have a certain reputation. But we’re not all vultures.”

Jake actually laughed at that. “Trust me, I know you aren’t a vulture.”

Amy rolled her eyes at him, but she also gave him a fond smile. They were both quiet for a while, a comfortable silence falling between them as they finally got to work on the sausages.

Jake realized after a few minutes that – despite the sausage already heavy in his stomach and the emotionally charged conversation they’d just endured – there was a lightness in his chest and his head that he couldn’t identify. It wasn’t quite happiness or relief, but something close to peace. He looked across the sausage mountain at Amy, and he smiled.

CHAPTER 6

[bloodiedskirtts]

Tripping For You | Part Two: Sweetener

Summary: It’s Y/N’s sophomore year of college, and she’s never had a boyfriend before. But all that will change when her best friend Steve finds out about her crush on him. Determined to prove she doesn’t care for him, bad boy Bucky Barnes comes up with a genius plan. To prove she’s over Steve and he’s not “pussy whipped”.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: Slow burn, fake dating, mentions of sex.

A/N: TAG LIST IS OPEN!

Feedback is always appreciated! Thanks for reading. I hope you guys like it! Gif not mine, credit to owner.

Tripping For You Masterlist

She was hiding in her room, she had raced out of the coffee shop without as much as looking at Bucky. She grabbed her coat and left as quickly as possible. And now she had turned off her phone and was re-reading Jane Eyre for what was probably the one hundredth time. Sharon was currently at a study group in the library and she was ignoring Steve’s knock on her door. Hopefully, he would think that she wasn’t home. 

A few hours passed, and she was well and truly absorbed by her book, another cup of tea in her hands. She heard the jingle of keys in the door, and yelled out a hello without thinking as her cousin returned. 

‘Hey, Y/N,’ Sharon called. ‘You have a visitor.’

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit! 

She couldn’t pretend she wasn’t there, she had literally greeted Sharon two seconds ago. She didn’t move, frozen to her spot, as her door handle opened and Sharon popped her head in.

‘It’s Bucky Barnes,’ she whispered. ‘Brush your fucking hair and put on some lipstick and oh my god, you look like a gremlin!’

She rolled her eyes at her cousin, placing her tea on her bedside locker. She didn’t care what Bucky Barnes thought of her, so that’s why she was frantically running her fingers through her hair and dabbing lip balm on. She pulled her oversized cardigan over her practically sheer  white shirt and booty shorts. She didn’t have time to change her outfit and she didn’t want Bucky to think that she cared too much about how she looked in front of him. So she shuffled out of her bedroom to see Bucky standing in the middle of her sitting room.

‘James,’ she teased. ‘To what do I owe the pleasure. Again.’

How the fuck did he know where she lived? 

Sharon had already retreated to her room. leaving them to talk in private. She motioned for him to sit on the couch and he slowly did.

‘Look, doll,’ he said. ‘I just wanted to make sure that you knew that we are not going to happen.’

Her mouth dropped and she couldn’t control the bubble of laughter in her throat this time. Bucky watched her carefully as she basically howled with laughter to the point that tears began to roll down her cheeks.

‘Y/N! I’m being serious!’

‘Oh, Barnes, you are too much sometimes. I do not and never will want to be with you or want to do anything with you,’ she said waving her hands in the air, a disgusted look on her face.

‘Well, it didn’t really seem like it took back there,’ Bucky said, referencing the kiss at the coffee shop.

Her face fell, going pale at the idea. 

‘Okay, look, Bucky. I was just trying to make sure that someone else didn’t think I liked them. That’s why I kissed you,’ she explained.

He raised an eyebrow, ‘Oh? And who is this mystery man?’

‘Oh no, James, I’m not telling you that,’ she said with a sharp laugh. ‘But thanks for coming. I’ll see you in class.’

‘No, no, no, doll,’ he said a smirk pulling on his lips. ‘You’re gonna tell me who this guy, that caused you to jump me in a cafe full of people, is.’

‘That is not happening!’

‘Okay, I’ll just post you’re little love letter to Twitter, and everyone will see how much you want to run your fingers through my hair and-’

‘Nope! Nope!’ she said, sighing out.

‘Steve...um...Steve Rogers...’

His eyebrows shot up, ‘Doesn’t Steve date your best friend?’

She nodded, ‘Dated. But that’s not...Look I wrote him a letter-’

‘Woah, woah, woah. I’m not the only one who got a letter?’ he asked in shock. ‘You think you’re special, and you find out that she’s written love letters to two guys.’

‘Five.’

‘What?’

‘I’ve written five love letters,’ she admitted, she wasn’t sure why she was telling him all this. But as he looked at her with those soft blue eyes and a small smile on his face, she wanted to talk to him for hours.

‘Five? You are a player, doll,’ he teased. ‘So who got these letters?’

‘You, Steve...um Sam Wilson-’

‘Sam Wilson is gay.’

‘You don’t know that.’

‘Everyone knows that!’

She rolled her eyes, ‘One of the foreign exchange guys and a guy from camp back in middle school.’

‘Okay, so you’ve been writing letters for that long?’ he asked, throwing his arm over the back of her couch.

She nodded, blushing deeply.

‘Okay, I think it’s your time to go.’

But he was smirking at her from ear to ear.

‘I have an idea, doll.’

‘Oh no!’

‘Okay, well, you need to make sure that Steve-o doesn’t think that you are madly and irrevocably in love with him. And I need people to realise that I am over Nat-’

‘Are you?’

‘What?’

‘Are you over Natasha?’ she asked.

‘Th-That doesn’t matter,’ he admitted.

She looked up at him, with a smirk. ‘Okay you need people to think that you are over Natasha and I need Steve to know that I don’t have feelings for him anymore.’

‘Right,’ he said. ‘So! What if we make them think we’re together.’

She laughed, ‘What?’

‘Like we pretend that we are in a relationship. Make everyone think we are madly in love,’ he said.

‘Bucky no one is going to believe that you are into me!’ she said, pulling at her ponytail.

‘And why wouldn’t they? You’re cute. We kissed before and everyone saw that kiss in the coffee shop this morning. It’s only been like four hours and Nat already knows about it,’ he said. ‘Please, doll? For me?’

She bit her lip.

‘Okay, okay,’ he sighed. ‘I’ll let you sleep on it. But seriously...’

He shrugged before making his way to the door.

‘I’ll see you in class, Bucky,’ she said, she couldn’t contain the smile on her face as she walked him to the door.

He kissed her on the cheek before he turned and left. And she couldn’t contain the butterflies in her stomach, her eyes flicked up to see Steve looking absolutely shocked. She slammed the door before he could say anything else.

The next day, she stomped over to Bucky before class. He was sitting with his friends, joking around, acting like the idiot he was. She was wearing a blush pink bomber jacket and a white slip dress. Her hair tied away from her face, swinging in a ponytail as she walked over to him, determination in her eyes.

‘Hey, Bucky,’ she said with a smile. ‘Can I speak to you, please?’

Nat was the other side of the lecture hall her eyes locked on the other woman as she spoke to her Bucky. Sure she dumped him at the start of the semester but he was still hers. And how dare that little bitch think that she had any right to speak to him? Let alone kiss him! She kissed him! In front of everyone!

Bucky smirked as Y/N stood in front of him, a small smile on her cheeks.

‘Sure doll,’ he said, walking outside with her.

‘Let’s do this,’ she said with a smirk.

‘Oh you wanna be my fake girlfriend?’ he whispered.

She laughed, ‘Sure. We can iron out the details after class.’

And that is why they were sitting out in the quad, under a cherry blossom tree discussing the details about their romance.

‘So when did we get together?’ she asked.

He shrugged, ‘Me and Nat broke up three weeks ago.’

‘Okay, well what if we met at a bar two weeks ago and we hooked up. And decided to make things official on Monday.’

He shook his head, ‘It can’t be Monday.’

She made a face, ‘Why?’

‘Well, I was with Nat on Monday night and we..’

‘Okay, okay. I don’t need to know the details,’ she said, putting her hand up to her mouth.

‘Right, well Wednesday. You went to Nat on Monday because you were freaking out about your feelings for me. But you realised after you and her...ya know, that you did want to be with me,’ she said.

‘Okay sounds good,’ he told her, a smirk pulling on her face.

‘Look, I also think we should put down some ground rules. No more kissing!’ she said.

After they had walked back into the room, Bucky had spun her around and pulled her in for a deep kiss. Nat’s eyes never left them as Bucky pulled away and brushed a loose hair out of her face.

‘Hey!’ he said. ‘You kissed me first! And how are people going to believe that we’re together if I suddenly cannot kiss you in public.’

‘Look you can kiss me on the cheek, on the hand, on the temple. Just not on the lips,’ she said with a shaky sigh. ‘This...Don’t laugh, okay? But I’ve never had a boyfriend before. And I don’t want all of my firsts to be fake?’

He smiled at her, ‘Of course, baby doll. No kissing. If you can control yourself.’

‘Ugh, as if,’ she teased, putting on her best fake valley girl accent.

He raised an eyebrow in confusion, ‘Clueless?’

‘Hey!’ he said in shock.

‘No. You idiot, the film Clueless!’

He shook his head.

‘You’ve never seen Clueless?’ she asked in shock. ‘Okay, that is going in the contract. Watch Clueless with me.’

‘Oh you have to drive me and Sharon to class everyday,’ he said.

He laughed, ‘No worries.’

‘And no one can know about this. It would be humiliating for both of us if people realised we were pretending this whole time. So tell no one.’

‘Of course, first rule of Fight Club,’ he said with a shrug.

She made a face.

‘Oh. My. God! You’ve never seen Fight Club? Put that in the contract. Double feature, Clueless then Fight Club!’ 

She laughed as she wrote it onto the page. 

‘Okay...um...I could write you notes everyday,’ he added.

She smiled, ‘You would do that?’

He nodded, ‘Nat was always asking me to do it but I never did. It would drive her nuts if I did it to you.’

She wrote it down.

‘Oh and you have to come to parties with me.’

‘I don’t really-’

He cut her off, ‘No one will believe that we’re together if we don’t go to parties together, doll.’

She huffed out but wrote it down anyway.

‘Okay, fine! Anything else?’ she asked.

‘Oh yes! You have to go with me on the ski trip,’ he said.

She folded her arms. The ski trip was infamous, it was organised by the snow sport society and every popular dickhead in the college signed up to go to it. Over a hundred teenagers and young adults descended on the slopes every December. Of course, couples loved to go on the ski trip. They had a room to themselves, they didn’t have to worry about annoying their roommates. It was pretty infamous for hook ups - more hook ups happened here than any party over the year.

Obviously, Y/N had never been.

‘That’s three months away,’ she said with shock in her eyes.

He nodded, ‘Okay. Yea, but no girlfriend in their right minds is going to let their boyfriend go on that ski trip alone. You know what happens on that trip. You know how many couples break up because people can’t keep it in their pants right?’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Okay but do you think that we’ll still be doing this in three months?’

He shrugged, ‘I dunno doll. But, just in case it’s better to have it in the contract.’

She nodded, watching him write it on the page in big sloppy writing. She smiled slightly as she sighed it and passed it back to him.

‘You are such a little nerd,’ he said with a smile on his face.

She blushed slightly, she didn’t know why she was so affected by him. 

‘Um...okay....I...I better get going,’ she said.

‘See ya around, girlfriend,’ he said grabbing her hand and kissing it softly. ‘Seeing as I can’t kiss you.’

‘And you won’t be, Barnes!’ she teased, pulling her backpack on and jogging away from him.

TAG LIST

@crybbysarahjane, @jitterbuck, @metalarmlover, @slender--spirit @the-crime-fighting-spider @anamcg317, @trekkingthroughmiddle-earth, @minniesugakookie @harrison-shot-first, @pingu89, @yetitty, @sexyvixen7, @nephalem67, @mia-at-work, @fruiterias, @writing-for-a-chance, @thatbibliophileravenclaw @hadesgirl1015 @gigistorm @kayleeflower, @savemesteeb, @rainbowkisses31, @valeriae2903, @sophiatomlinson23, @rhiisnotawitch, @mcuimxgine, @randomstoriesofabunny, @marsnothere, @myrabbitholetoneverland, @jessxxoxx @ka-x-in  @lovely-geek  @lizfawn @piensa-bonito  @rileyloves5 @funkenniffler @justmesadgirl​ @teawithbucky​ @tranquility-or-chaos​ @renanyx​  @marvelellie​, @justmesadgirl​ @mav-and-goose​ @anelaokalanii​ @siriuslyimmoony​ @novakkaia​ @mdgrdians​ @everythingisoverrated​ @jbarnes87​ @sebbydumbling​

[ayz8yf9q-blog]

Would you buy rapture insurance?””

Would you buy rapture insurance?

If you believe in the rapture, would you purchase insurance to be paid out to your family members you have left behind . I mean if you re the bread winner, and just vanish . Who is going to pay the rent, who is going to buy the food. People carry life insurance, and have social security to help families, but I m pretty sure they wouldn t cover rapture ... --not superstitious

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