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#like I went to college for film not everything else and I just can’t get myself to give a shit anymore

frostytherobot · 2 days

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Alright. Because I’m thinking about Creep as a film series because they just announced more Creep in the form of THE CREEP TAPES (I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR SO LONG… it’s not a movie but a TV SHOW!!!) I’m just gonna ramble a little bit about why those movies are so important to me.

First, though:

^ That’s my Creep tattoo. I got it over a year ago and show it off whenever I can.

So, onward.

I watched the first Creep movie for the first time during quarantine lockdown. It was like March of 2021? (Hold on, let me link the episode of my podcast for that.) (Yup. Don’t mind my pre-T voice.) That was like one of the loneliest times of my life. You know how it was, you were there, too. Fucking. Awful. I felt like there was just this bubble of sadness around me and nobody could get through to me. Sure, I had friends I could talk to over the internet, but that can only get you so far. Especially when they have their own lives and you can’t see them face to face.

One night, my two best college buddies and I decided we should watch it for our podcast. That was the one thing we could do that we could talk to each other consistently with, so we went for it. And, fuck. You can hear in that episode how freaked out that movie made us! We talk about human behaviors and the compulsion to kill and where that stems from, the relationship between politeness and gender roles, and lot of other related topics in that episode. It’s a smart film that knows how to suck you into the reality; you see these two men up close and personal, their odd behaviors, and the found footage formatting and intimate setting make you feel as though you are there witnessing all of this with them. As them. Those awkward moments make you cringe; watching Josef admit to stalking Aaron, catching Josef on the lies, tubby time. Oh, god, tubby time.

And then there was the ending. The moment where the camera is left in the car, you’re left in the car, and you just have to watch as Josef puts on the Peachfuzz wolf mask, flourishes his jacket, and buries that axe into Aaron’s head. The shot is static. It’s matter-of-fact, and that’s why it’s so horrifying. He’s dead. You followed this shy, awkward guy on his journey getting to know an oddball all the way to the lake, and he’s dead now. And then, the murderous oddball looks directly into the camera, and while he says Aaron’s name, he’s looking at you as he says, “That is why I love you. And that is why you will always be my favorite. Of them all.” Like he was thanking you for witnessing this event.

I felt like there was someone behind me for hours afterward. Josef had somehow gotten into my home. And that’s how it started.

Months later, we watched the second one. (Episode link here.) Of course we loved it. I loved it. It wasn’t as scary as the first one, but the intimacy and emotional connection was still there. That feeling of watching two people through their own eyes was still there. Only this time, they were trying to out-weird each other, or at least come together on a level they could both understand. The thing is, they were still misunderstanding each other. Sara is only comfortable with Josef’s Aaron’s freakiness because she thought he was lying to her when he wasn’t. The moment she starts to take it seriously is when she decides to leave, and that’s when Josef Aaron pulls out the lies and the deceit to bring her back in. And when she comes back in, that’s when she starts being genuine, letting her guard down, and that’s when she gets into trouble. She starts to believe in the watered-down version of Josef Aaron, seeing the front of softness as a vulnerability in him, and to a point, it is. But she totally disregards everything else that has happened during this day as some kind of ruse, when she should have kept those moments in mind. He’s still a killer, and dangerous, even if he plays it like he isn’t.

Sara ultimately pays the price for entertaining his whims. I guess Aaron did, too, but in a different way. While Aaron died and became a part of Josef, Sara now cannot get rid of him. He tries to kill her, and she runs, refusing his gift of death and absorption into himself, but now he follows her. She’s literally moved on, but like a ghost or a bad dog with attachment issues, he still follows her. He gave her his heart, after all.

And then I got to putting two and two together on why exactly all of this was appallingly appealing to me. I was alone. I was drifting further into this state of paradoxical nothing-pain. And suddenly, I was being welcomed into a dynamic in which I was wanted. It was an obsessive want, but I was wanted. He got me. They all did. Josef, Aaron, Sara. Suddenly I’m seeing aspects of my loneliness on screen. The slow reveal of the odd personality traits, the waiting to see the reaction. Pulling those traits back in when they’re not met with the tolerance I wish was there. The staying when I feel so uncomfortable because I want to understand. Upping the ante in an act of bonding. Feeling like I’ve found someone who’s on my wavelength, only to find they weren’t as okay with the whole me as I thought. The sudden urge to end it all. To kill the relationships. Move on, knowing they were dead, but I could still have the memories. They were getting distant. I could do it, you know. Just end it all right then.

Of course, I didn’t do that. But I felt it. I felt it a lot during that time.

I’ve not been super mentally healthy over my time being alive. I’ve been hospitalized for it. Not a fun experience, by the way. But that was another aspect that just drew me closer to Peachfuzz. He’s funny, and weird, and unstable. Always lying to appeal to the people around him because he wants them to stay, for sincere and sinister reasons. He’s terrible and lonely. I was terrible and lonely.

And there it was. Crystal clear. Los aguas milagros de corazón. I was taking comfort in a manifestation of something dark that I saw in myself. A mischievous, funny, isolated, totally fucked-in-the-head, murderous darkness. I wasn’t alone in that room anymore, and yeah, perhaps my company should’ve been something not so, well, creepy, but I thanked him for being there. I could put a face with the feeling, and the nothing-pain started going away.

He’s a friend of mine now. And I love him a lot.

#martyface #josef tag #creep 2014 #creep movie #creep 2

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bifuriouswaterbender · 6 months

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Can't Start A Fire (Without A Spark)

A Steddie Modern AU written by me and read by @aliteralgarbageheap for the @steddiebang

Steve claimed not to be a snob about different dance forms, but with his ballet background, he had a hard time looking at stripping as anything other than a money grab. He didn't see the beauty. Until Kas.

Rated E. ~21,000 words. No Archive Warnings Apply. Featuring Steve/Eddie and Robin/Chrissy.

Posting will begin on December 3 found in print form on my AO3 and in audio form on alitergarbageheap's. If you'd like to be notified when the story begins, feel free to subscribe to me.

For now, here's a teaser from Chapter One.

Someone was talking near him on the side with his earbud.

Steve looked up, taking it out as he turned around. “What?”

He took in a rather attractive man standing before him. Steve was good at spotting a dancer’s body, but he couldn’t tell if it was a sign or a coincidence with a man like this. His long curly hair hung down around his shoulders, and he sported a getup that looked as much like a costume as normal clothing thanks to the number of patches on his vest and holes in his pants. Steve had worn a jacket that was not dissimilar when he’d been cast as Riff in West Side Story in college—more for his ability to dance the dream ballet than his singing voice.

“I said this is quite the place to dance around like that,” the man said, a teasing smile sliding onto his face. “Most people save it for the stage or a pole.”

Steve frowned and squared his shoulders. “Excuse me?”

The man snorted and gestured toward Steve’s simple filming setup. “I’m sure your followers love it, but the park’s not really the best place, is it?”

This was a new one for Steve. “Are you trying to tell me I was dancing like a stripper?”

The man raised a brow. “Are you trying to tell me you weren’t? I’m sure it does well with viewers, but you could make a lot more if you took that to a club.”

Normally when people were dismissive of dance, Steve responded to them in his professor voice. He calmly explained to them the nuance, the skill, the history, and everything else that made dance an important tradition. Maybe it was the setting. Maybe it was because of the man’s tone, but Steve didn’t do that today.

“Fuck you,” he snapped. “If you don’t know what modern ballet looks like, you can look it up for yourself and leave dancers alone. What I was doing was a far cry from stripping.”

The man took a step back, mouth falling open. “Something wrong with stripping?”

And okay, Steve wasn’t proud for getting even madder, but he didn’t take well to people being dismissive and then taking the moral high ground.

“Nothing wrong, except that I don’t appreciate you comparing my highly technical training and background to a kind of dance that people do for the money. They’re a far cry from one another. Learn the difference.”

The man’s face went flat, but there was an edge to his expression Steve couldn’t read. “Just the money, huh? So you think your fancy pants dancing that includes some of the exact same moves is so much better? That you can’t have artistry when your skintight clothes are made out of spandex instead of tulle?”

“What is your problem?” Steve demanded, grabbing his tripod and starting to disassemble it to get out of there.

The man licked his lips but otherwise looked ready for a fight. “I was trying to have a conversation. Was even going to invite you to go to auditions next week at the Pearly Delight. Maybe you’re too scared. Maybe you think it’s too unskilled. But oh, show up some night. I dance. You’ll see what you’re missing.”

With that, he whirled around, leaving Steve standing speechless with his phone in one hand and the tripod in the other.

What the hell had just happened?

#steddie #steddie fanfiction #steddie big bang #st fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #modern au #steddie modern au #my writing

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moviemunchies · 5 months

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Before this movie came out, there were some reservations about it–whether it would be good, or if it would even be released. There were problems with the state of the DC movie universe, for starters, and the weirdness going on with Warner Brothers management. Despite all of that, the guys at Warner Brothers insisted that this movie was coming out, and that it was “one of the greatest superhero movies ever made.”

It is… not.

Barry Allen is the Flash–a founding member of the Justice League and the fastest man alive. Upon getting a better grip on his power to travel through time, Barry decides that he can prevent his mother’s murder and clear his father’s name through a very simple switch-up. So he does that; except he’s thrown out of the timestream unexpectedly to his eighteen-year-old self’s life, where his mother is alive and he’s in college.

Except everything’s changed! Because changing history isn’t only going to change the present, it also disrupts everything else, so Barry’s now in an alternate timeline. And in this timeline, Zod is invading and Barry can’t find Superman or the League around to help. So he’s got to figure out how to save the world, and then get home.

Yeah, it’s another loose adaptation of Flashpoint.

This movie was being billed as the thing that was going to reset the DC continuity for the movies and put it in the new state for Superman: Legacy. Except watching it, the movie is plainly not that at all–the way the universe is left at the end of this movie is not really compatible with whatever they’re doing with the new DC movies. The end result is that the movie feels pointless in its conclusion, a funny little one-off that affects nothing.

It’d be more forgivable if we’d had more time with this iteration of Barry Allen/the Flash. Instead, much like Superman in Snyder’s movies, we’re skipping straight to big stories without developing these characters enough to care. And now we’re getting no more of Barry Allen, or at least this Barry Allen.

Which is kind of a shame? Because I went into this out of curiosity, and I didn’t expect that much from it. I remember for the first third of the movie or so, I was having a surprising amount of fun. I liked this version of Barry. I enjoyed seeing his interactions with his fellow Justice Leaguers, and I thought about how I’d love to see more of these characters interacting. I’d love to see more stories about Barry, but I don’t think we will, at least not anytime soon.

Also, Ezra Miller went kind of insane in the last year or so, and that’s probably an admittedly good reason as to why they’re not rushing to make more anytime soon.

The multiverse is pretty weak here–people have written pieces as to why we’re all sick of the multiverse by this point, and that’s fair. Other than the main Plot itself, where Barry is in an alternate timeline, it only really comes up in the climax, to sort of say, “Hey! We remember all of these past DC iterations! Do you?” Okay, fine, that doesn’t make it good storytelling. It’s not terrible, it’s just not great, either.

Michael Keaton’s a fun Batman. I’m going to be honest with you–I never had much attachment to the 1989 Batman. I liked this take on Batman, though I don’t know if that means he should have replaced Ben Affleck, or even the Thomas Wayne from the comic; the decision to reference the Burton film felt more like fanservice than something that actually made sense.

Also! Question: why does Iris like Barry? By the end of the film, she’s clearly interested in him, and while we know he’s a great guy, the way he’s acted towards her throughout the movie isn’t very appealing from her point of view. She should be incredibly skeptical about his prospects as a romantic partner, if anything. It seemed like a typical ‘Nerd guy gets The Girl’ Hollywood trope than actually writing for the characters.

This movie feels like it’s had a dozen reshoots added to it, to try to make it appeal to more fans through references, and to try to make it fit or not fit in a new DC universe. And while it’s great fun at times, I’d have preferred if the movie only tried to tell a singular story. I would like an actual Flash movie that had Barry interacting with his own supporting cast and rogues gallery–because Flash has an amazing rogues gallery! Thawne! Zoom! Captain Cold! Mirror Master! These would be fun on a massive blockbuster budget!

And it’s pretty darn egregious that, with everything that’s going on in Warner Bros, that they canceled Batgirl, a film with a female Hispanic lead, and kept straight on with this, when its star has actually committed crimes and threatened people.

I don’t know! I had more fun watching this than I expected, and that was a nice surprise! At the same time, this far from “one of the greatest superhero movies ever made” that was promised–I don’t know how someone even arrived at that proclamation, unless the executives decided “nostalgic references to previous movies” counts as quality. Given the state of Hollywood, that’s a possibility.

If you’re a massive DC fan, or liked other movies in this iteration of the DC universe, than you’ll probably have some fun with this movie. But is it a must-watch? No. Not even close.

#The Flash #Barry Allen #Ezra Miller #Movie Munchies #DCEU #superheroes #DC comics

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acefms · 1 year

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MEET ATLAS !

basic info.

NAME: atlas doukas

AGE: thirty-nine

BIRTHDAY: december 24th

ZODIAC: capricorn

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: single

SEXUALITY: bisexual; female lean

OCCUPATION: stunt coordinator

[ tw: accident, death, injury. ]

• born on a cold and snowy christmas night, atlas was welcomed into the world by two teenage parents who had barley graduated from high school. it only took a matter of months for his mother to realize that she was nowhere near emotionally mature enough to raise a child. deciding that she wanted to peruse the dreams she once had for herself, she took off and left all responsibility to atlas’s young father.

• atlas’s father tried his best, but struggled to keep a steady job for the first few years of his life. however by the time atlas started school he found a janitorial job at a local boxing gym. after years of loyalty to the staff, atlas’s father became a cutman. growing up atlas spent a lot of time at time gym, and found a love of punching the bag. not long after he developed interest in other areas, including martial arts.

• during high school atlas excelled in athletics, a member of several clubs including track and wrestling. it was during these years he met his high school sweetheart and they remained together even when they both went to different colleges. atlas majored in directing and theatrical production, knowing he desired a career in film stunts. he minored in physical education.

• he and his girlfriend planned on moving in together when they both finished college, but sadly in their final year she was the victim of a hit and run and died of her injuries a few days later in hospital. he didn’t make it in time to say goodbye. atlas has never gotten over this, and has yet to be in a serious relationship since. he keeps everything very causal.

• graduating from college, atlas began his career as as stunt double on low budget films, slowly making a name for himself before he became one of the best in the business. it was only at the age of thirty-five when his body began to take longer to recover from all the bumps and bruises that he made the transition to stunt coordinator, though he still puts his all into every stunt and puts his body on the line. he can’t help himself.

• while atlas’s dad loved him very much, it was painfully obvious that he wasn’t happy with the way his life had played out, and atlas always knew that was because of him. they rarely see much of one another these days due to living in different states, but they make it a habit of speaking on the phone at least once a week. his mother tried to reach out once a few years ago, but he’d long given up any desire to have a relationship with her.

possible connections.

family member/s of his ex — he’d find it quite difficult being around this person as they’d remind him so much of her, and he blames himself despite the fact that he wasn’t there and there was nothing he could have done.

a potential half-sibling/s — very open to his mother potentially settling down later in life and having other children. would probably start off rather strained but eventually he’d come around to the big brother thing. taken by ripley.

casual fling — could have been one time or multiple, they could want more or not, or potentially try to get his walls to come down in a romantic sense but he’s like a brick wall, honestly. you’ll just get sass, ass and a cheeky smile and not much else (well, maybe if chemistry is there more with time)

I’m open tbh if there is anything you have in mind and I can see it fitting !

#chq;intro #intro | atlas.#this is my last muse I swear

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trappedwriter · 2 years

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Trapped - Chapter 1

March 3rd, 2017

Jessica’s POV

Standing in my closet pondering over what outfits look good, a familiar sound snaps me out of my deep thoughts. Abandoning the clothes, I rush over to my phone with excitement. “It’s only been up for 10 minutes, I wonder how many likes I’ve gotten” I thought.

Opening the app I felt a spike of excitement when I saw someone had left a comment "Go to www.Iwantabigdick.com to make your dreams come true." My heart sinks. Maybe I need more hashtags, I’m too fat I should take it down and edit it more, why aren’t I getting the same attention as other influencers, I’m practically copying them.” The same thoughts run through my mind every time. Throwing my phone back on my bed, I continue outfit planning.

An hour passed, and I finally have planned all my outfits for the next two weeks. I found this really cute denim patched jacket online and wanted to create multiple outfits with it. I paired it with a floral dress, some faux leather pants and even made a denim on denim look. I think Britney & Justin would be proud if they saw my outfit.

I check my phone again, only a couple more likes, and you guessed it more bot comments. “Ugh I’m so sick of them, why can’t Instagram just get rid of them. It’s not like they’re helping me get more exposure”.

My Instagram page is filled with brightly coloured clothes modelled against simple backgrounds. I��m very proud of my page. Long hours spent planning and researching. Pouring my heart and soul into it. Just trying to be best influencer out there. The potential for greatness is there, they just can’t see it. I gotta do something big, something bold. Then they’ll see. Then I’ll finally get the attention I deserve.

—————————————————————————

The weekend came and went really quickly. All the outfits I planned out yesterday are now photographed. I’ll have a busy editing week ahead of me. It was such a gloomy weekend. It rained all the time which resulted in me having to take my outfit pics in various establishments.

I live in a small town called New Market born and raised here, everyone knew everything about each other. Like me, my parents died in a car crash when I was 3. I had no other family, so I was placed in the foster system. Eventually, I was adopted by lovely Sarah and Tom Bell. They must have had a kink for wanting a big family cause although they couldn’t produce any of their own, they sure as hell had a lot of kids. 6 including me. Only 4 months after adopting me, they adopted another 5 more kids.

Last year Tom & Sarah decided that New Market was no longer their forever home and moved to California. I decided to stay as the little town held so many memories for me. Like when I fell off the slide and lost my first tooth, my first (and only) kiss, and my high school prom.

I had a part time job working in a thrift store. It’s not my ideal job but it meant I was able to provide for myself, plus I got first picks of new clothes that came in but I wouldn’t want someone else’s hand-me-downs. And yet, despite the fact that I graduated high school and I have a job, the locals still give me dirty looks as I set up my camera for the shots. Just because I didn’t go to college and instead decided to follow my dream meant that they could just sit there and judge me. No doubt gossiping about me too.

Being an influencer has been a dream of mine ever since I first started watching YouTube videos of beauty gurus back in 2015. Although Tom & Sarah never really cared about what I did, they were adamant that I finish high school before starting any silly projects. They didn’t understand that this wasn’t silly, I could get popular and become rich and famous. As soon as I got home from my graduation, I got straight to work. I tried the whole YouTube thing, but sitting down and filming took forever, the hours of filming and editing wasn’t worth the hundred or so views I got. That’s when I decided that Instagram was going to be my main focus.

Chapter 2

#sebastian stan x ofc #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan fanfiction #book blog #fanfic #sebastian stan

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witchsickness · 1 year

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hey, this might be a bit random but do you have any book recommendations? looking at your blog i just know you have great taste in literature

hi i love books and i love lists and i love book lists so here’s my top 5 books i read this year and then six of my most loved ever. my taste is the WORST btw. enjoy <3

scenes of a graphic nature by caroline o’donoghue: a young filmmaker gets invited to a film festival and takes the opportunity to visit her dying father’s birthplace — this one snuck up on me. went into it thinking it’d be a lighthearted crime story, but it ended up being so much more. it’s about feeling unmoored and rootless when everyone around you seems to have everything figured out, about gearing up to grieve something you haven’t yet lost. about finding a place to grow roots where you least expect it. fen by daisy johnson: a collection of interconnected stories dealing with the horror of living in one place all your life, and the monsters familiarity breeds — okay. this isn’t for everyone, i’ll give you that. but. oh, man. it’s transcendental. reads like poetry, while also maintaining a very grounded, fairytale-like storytelling. the language. the way it flows. WISH i could write like that the paying guests by sarah waters: a woman’s life is upended by the arrival of her new lodgers in post-wwi london — prose-wise, this is the weakest. it heavily relies on the plot and the world-building to impose an ominous, gloomy atmosphere on the reader. i still maintain that the last hundred pages or so could’ve been edited to something shorter, but up to that point, it’s gripping and oppressive and very, very gay mostly dead things by kristen arnett: in the aftermath of her father’s suicide, a young woman tries to navigate the changes in her life and juggle the new responsibilities she’s burdened with, while the rest of her family falls apart — deceptively comical. cloaked in witty prose that fools you at first, deflecting like its heroine, who drowns her worries in booze and sarcasm. one of the rawest explorations of grief and anger and stagnation in a life pre-decided i’ve ever read. now i know exactly how those poor flamingos felt rebecca by daphne du maurier: a young bride is haunted by the memory of her husband’s dead wife — this one needs no introduction, but i could write essays on how misguided most people’s perception of who the real villain and the real ghost of this story is. i loved the implications more than the actual story. it’s gothic, it’s atmospheric, it’s spooky. you could leave it at that, or you could take into consideration the oppression du maurier went through in her life as a female author, and her constant need to break free. much to think about.

franny and zooey by j.d. salinger: two siblings are dealing with the aftermath of their eldest brother’s suicide — see a pattern here? it’s bc i eat stuff like that up. i LIVE for fucked-up families. this is. my favorite book. of all time. read it when i was sixteen and i’m still recovering. say what you will about salinger, he could weave a family drama like no one else. no hysterics, no explosions. just broken people living broken lives. and me filling up oceans bunny by mona awad: a lonely college girl’s imagination runs wild when she gets accepted into the cool girls’ group and their rituals — one of my most intense reading experiences. visceral and violent in a way only not-yet-adult girls can be. sad and laced with a loneliness you can’t ever shake, no matter what impossible shapes you contort yourself into. it follows you, like the imaginary friend you never outgrew. the collector by john fowles: a woman is held hostage by a man steadily losing his grip on reality — this is. definitely not an easy read. both the book and the film made me, famously unfeeling, extremely uncomfortable. it’s also one of the most subversive examples of writing i’ve ever encountered, oscillating between reality and each of the two protagonists’ version of it. not for the faint-hearted, but SO worth it if one can stomach it. cat’s eye by margaret atwood: a woman’s recollections of the traumatic events from her childhood that shaped her into the artist she’s become — another extremely uncomfortable read. felt like i was holding my breath for the entire 500 pages. if ‘sticks and stones may break my bones’ was a book, this’d be it. cemented my belief that little girls have the capacity to be the cruelest creatures in the whole world. to the lighthouse by virginia woolf: a family’s visits to their summer house in the span of a decade — the plot is very loose, because, like most of woolf’s novels, it’s only there to provide a vehicle for all the ideas she had no other outlet for. reads like a dream, with prose so good it makes you want to take off your clothes and jump into the nearest body of water. no one will ever write yearning and upper-class ennui as beautiful as she did. vanity of duluoz by jack kerouac: kerouac’s semi-autobiographical novel — i LOVE kerouac. his novels are permeated by a freedom most people spend their whole lives chasing just a taste of. so this one, a glimpse inside his mind, his childhood, what shaped him, it’s like unearthing treasure aeons-long buried. apart from f&z, it’s the only book that’s ever made me bawl my eyes out. life is nothing more but a scratched blues vinyl.

#should i apologize for how long this got or are we past that point #i just love it when ppl ask me for recs 🤧#anon #ask

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drewoclock · 4 months

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I Considered Giving Up On My Dreams

Originally published September 26th, 2018

This doesn’t happen with everyone, but some people are lucky enough to know exactly what they want to do with their lives from the very beginning. I was one of those lucky people--maybe too lucky, because there was a lot I wanted to do. It’s always fallen under the umbrella of “creating your own entertainment” but I’ve wanted to be a painter, an actor, a songwriter, a filmmaker, a writer... I’ve wanted the opportunity to live my life making all of these wonderful things. Growing up, I devoted so much of my free time to pumping out artwork like this, always daydreaming of a time where I would be so good at it that people couldn’t look away. Growing up to be an artist, an entertainer, a creator, was never something I ever questioned. That is, until last night.

While having dreams is one thing, making them happen is another. Over the years I’ve definitely thought about this; how hard it’s going to be, what my odds are, how much luck I’ll have to have. I think most careers have their growing pains but with the one I was pursuing, you really start a lot lower. The path to working your way up is long, difficult, and not necessarily happy. Other people might not mind their first job in their field but for me, it’s more or less grunt work. And I famously joked about this for a while, saying how most people had a nice incline where they went from high school to college to getting a job in their field to getting an even better job in their field, etc. Whereas for me, after college, my incline dropped right to the bottom again, and I knew my journey up would be much steeper. I was very aware of this, and it didn’t really phase me. Because I kept daydreaming about my dream career, and what I had to do to get it just seemed worth it to me.

Recently, I took a very big step toward making my dream career happen. I went through the very frustrating process of looking for an apartment in New York City and I moved. I had tried finding the work I needed where I was at previously but, that wasn’t going to work and I knew it. I had to move to somewhere with more opportunity, and I did. And I liked the idea of living in New York City. In a very shallow kind of way, New York City seemed like a place you lived if you were particularly important. I wanted to feel particularly important. I thought I was ready. I--definitely wasn’t.

For one, I’m a lot more isolated here. I knew that I couldn’t live with my family forever in their house with many rooms and that I’d have to transfer to a scrappy apartment. But being mostly confined to one room is vaguely maddening. It has just about everything I need but it’s starting to make me feel like I’m caged. It also makes filmmaking in particular feel like more of a challenge. I hadn’t realized exactly how much I depended on using my parents’ house as something of a studio, being able to film things in many different rooms. Now if I want to do that, I have to make a three hour drive. There aren’t many spaces to film here.

And even if I tried filming here, privacy is a huge issue. These walls are thin, and I couldn’t even fart without everyone in the apartment hearing it. Every conversation that’s had in the apartment is essentially a conversation you’re sharing with everyone else in the apartment. I--really, really don’t like that. I hate the idea that I couldn’t even have a bad day and cry without people hearing it. And maybe it’d be a little more tolerable if I were living with friends, but that dramatically didn’t pan out and I’m here living with three strangers that I more or less don’t really interact with. It’s very uncomfortable.

And it’s also very lonely. Another thing I knew is that you can’t make a big move like this without leaving your family and friends behind. I had a taste of this in college. But in college, it never felt permanent exactly. Now, it does. I miss being able to just text my friends if I was bored and spontaneously hang out. I miss just being able to know I could see them with a ten minute drive. And I had not considered how comforting it was knowing that my family was around in the place I was living, and how nice it was just being able to talk to them. It’s not something I thought of as a kid; how warm and loved you feel being a part of a family. And while I’ll always be in the family--I’m not with it anymore. I’m alone.

And there are things about New York City itself that aren’t too nice. Yes, there’s more to do here and things are bigger. But I like having a car, and dealing with alternate side parking down here is nightmarish. And I barely get to use the car. Public transit is usually the best option for getting places since parking is so horrendous. I miss just the concept of driving a car and being in my own little space. Public transit means you don’t have to worry about driving, but driving was never something I worried about. Also, the gym’s more crowded and I don’t like it.

And on top of all of that, I don’t even have a job yet--which is awful! I’m basically broke. I was trying to apply for jobs even remotely related to my field but I guess I underestimated the competition. I thought waving around a degree would be the one thing about college that was genuinely useful but apparently it really isn’t. Now I’m going to need to find some temp job in order to make ends meet. And yes, some temp job is going to be a lot better than being unemployed. But some temp job is not what I moved to the city for.

And that is actually the biggest problem of all: What I moved down to the city for. I moved down here to start at the very bottom. Do grunt work in my field and claw my way up. I knew that’s what I had to do. I had joked about it. I had my eye on the future. But now, my eyes are also on the present. And the idea of doing this work--makes me really, really unhappy. Yes, after many years it’ll maybe finally pay off. But short-term happiness is valuable too, and something that up until now has been fairly secure for me. Now, I’m looking at the path to following my dreams and for the first time, I’m seeing how miserable it’s going to be.

And for the first time, I’m starting to feel how unfair it is that other people don’t have to be as miserable because they have different dreams. One of my friends is already married and more or less has his dream job while living in a nice apartment, with a move into a nice house pending. I can’t even fathom the kind of happiness he must be feeling. Another one of my friends just got engaged and is working a job he’s very comfortable with, while another one just got a job in a field he really likes. One of my friends just bought a house because they make a ton of money in their field. I have a cousin who’s younger than me and already doing so much better than I am living in the city. And it’s not fair. It’s not fair that I don’t get to be that happy.

So I considered giving up on my dreams. Finding some other career path I could take that wouldn’t be as brutal. Moving away from New York City to a place where I can get an apartment with some privacy. Being able to drive again. I still wouldn’t be living with my family. I might still live away from my friends. But I’d be more comfortable. I’d be happier. And I’d still work on my art projects on the side. I’d make them public. Maybe if I’m lucky, I could start my career that way. Just by being noticed and not by having to work my way all the way up. A lot of people don’t follow their biggest, loftiest dreams, but they’re still very happy with what they have.

But I’ve had the dreams I’ve had for my whole life. These dreams are a part of me. And even if I stop pursuing them, I’ll never stop daydreaming about them. I’ll never stop wanting them to come true. And it’ll make me sad, knowing that I traded them away. The trade would be more than reasonable. I’d get a lot more comfort by giving up on my dreams. But--they’re my dreams. They aren’t going away.

And for the first time, I started to feel cursed for having the dreams that I had. If I had wanted to be a restaurant owner or a barber or a data analyst or something, I wouldn’t be in this situation. I’d be happier. I wouldn’t have to decide between giving up on my dreams, or pursuing my dreams and being miserable while doing it. Because I want to be an artist, an entertainer, a creator, I’m doomed to this unsatisfying existence for however long it winds up taking for things to pay off. And they may never pay off.

So in a way, everything stayed the same after thinking all of these things last night. I still live in New York City. I still need to get a temp job as soon as possible. And I’m still going to pursue my dreams. I feel like I have to. It’s not often that my heart tells me things, but my heart is telling me that this is what I need to do. But what has changed is my awareness of exactly what I’m in for. I had been able to ignore it before because it wasn’t staring me in the face. But now--this is going to be my life. I’m going to be doing grunt work while most of the people I know are standing above me, feeling a lot happier. It’s maybe one of the most unfair things that’s happened to me. I hate it, and daydreaming about the future can’t make me stop hating it.

I’m trying to find a way to end this on a positive note. It’s stumping me because I’m very, very sad right now. It’s overwhelming how bad everything is, and there are constant reminders of it every day. I’ve been sitting here for a long time trying to figure out a way I can end this that’s happier. I had a thought of a life that might work out a little better for me. Where I moved back to where I came from. I know a lot of people from that area that have found the kind of grunt work I’m looking for down here. If I looked even harder, I bet I could find it for myself. I could work my way up and develop the skills I need to look appealing to the big jobs I really want. I could keep putting my art projects out there and try to get them noticed. And maybe I could get offers for big gigs in places like NYC or LA. But gigs would come and go, and I could always come back in between them. To a place where I have my own private apartment. Where I can drive a car. Where I get to visit my family that I love to pieces often. Where I get to be close to my best friends. Maybe there’s a way, to have both kinds of happiness.

It’s hard to know how things will play out. But maybe it’s not that thought of a happier life back where I was that’s the positive note to end on. Maybe the real positive note to end on is knowing just how much I care about my own happiness. That I care so much about giving myself the happiest future possible that I’m willing to sit here until I figure out how to end this on a happy note.

Life isn’t too happy right now. Not at all. But at least I know that I’ll always be striving to make it happy.

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mycharacterdump · 10 months

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My Eleven and a Half Days At Priory Hospital North London

16 May, 2021

I don’t reckon I’ll be any good at this, but my counselor here says it’ll help me. I was stuck in intake for six hours, strapped to a hospital bed and poked and prodded and all that uncomfortable shit. I asked if they wanted a bone marrow donation as well, and that I had plenty below the belt. The nurse didn’t find it very funny. I thought it was hilarious. Thankfully, my psychiatrist and counselors think I’m a real riot, but they also say my humor is a crutch. Dunno about that. It’s not like I’m always making dick jokes. It is kind of hard not to when they just about molest you in order for you to be cleared here.

Anyway, I don’t know what else to write. My brain is foggy from the drugs they have me on. The sedatives haven’t worn off yet. I’ll get back to it in the morning.

Micah.

17 May, 2021

I had my first group therapy today. Listening to kids who haven’t even made it to college yet talk about slitting their wrists and microdosing Adderall is pretty fucking bleak. Some of them brought the composition notebooks we’re given at the beginning of our stay and read out of them. It made me realize I don’t really say much in mine. I’m a musician, not a writer. But I should give it a try. I will tomorrow. The medication I was put on when I got here is finally starting to wear off. I almost feel like I belong in my own skin again.

Micah.

18 May, 2021

Priory Hospital North London is the best of the best. I get an en-suite bedroom with my own bathroom and television and everything. I’ve been assured that there is no better place my parents could’ve sent me — aside from home, I told the nurse, who again wasn’t impressed. I don’t know why I’m kind of vying for the validation of people I normally couldn’t give less of a fuck about. I guess I’ll unpack that with my counselor in half an hour. Until then, I was given direction to write about what I remember before coming here. How I felt and the like. I can give that a try. I have to actually remember it first.

Tomorrow.

Micah.

19 May, 2021

On 15 May, my older sister Tallulah was called to hospital as she was the first person in my contacts list. I don’t remember how I got there. All I remember is the feeling of my heart in my throat and my blood pooling in my head and the ache of my bones underneath the cracked skin. I guess I got into a fight? I felt a sharp pain in my ribs for a few hours but the doctors said nothing was fractured or broken. It wouldn’t be my first time getting myself into trouble like that, but it must have been the worst since I woke up in a hospital room instead of my bed. All I can remember from before that is driving myself to band practice in my Mum’s car since I’ve never been trusted to own one. I barely got my driver’s license. I used to get angry at the idea that someone I never met could deduce whether or not I was entitled to a basic freedom, but I guess I understand now. I’m a lot different than other kids my age. Even the ones here, who are all fucked up with fucked up stories I can’t stomach. Half the shit they talk about has to be a joke. If it’s not, then I must be seriously demented. I think I am, because that’s all I can remember about that day. The persistent hurt that spread throughout my whole body until I was just one fast beating pulse.

Now that I think about it, that wasn’t the first time I felt that way. Like I was made of livewire. I think it was just the first time I recognized it for what it was.

Micah

20 May, 2021

I earned myself a day pass! Very proud of myself. I used it to go to the cinema. I don’t remember when I last went and sat down and watched a movie. Must have been at least a year, I’ve been so caught up with the band and schoolwork. I bought popcorn and chocolate and a large Dr. Pepper and watched Licorice Pizza, since it was the only appealing film at the box office. I thought it was funny. I don’t know how long it’s been since I laughed. It almost hurt. I showed off my ticket stubs in group today and made a fourth year red in the face because I know how to keep my cool and he throws tantrums whenever they run out of the green flavor of jello in the cafeteria. I thought he’d start foaming at the mouth. When I told this to my counselor, she said, “We can’t dehumanize our peers, Micah.” I almost said:

“Does it count if they weren’t human in the first place?”

But I didn’t. I should get another day pass based on self-control alone. That isn’t how it works, though. Figures.

Micah

21 May, 2021

Tomorrow is my 18th birthday. Mum and Dad already called to say they would be here, but Tal is stuck in New York. I think the whole thing that happened with me traumatized her. I feel guilty about it, even though I don’t remember. My counselor says it’s a good thing. Feeling like shit is good? I guess it proves I’m not a sociopath like everyone else seems to think. I promise I’m not. Sometimes I think I feel too much, like so much it actually hurts. I’ve been forced to experience life with the volume maxed. It’s why I can’t trust anyone, family included. Everything is always so loud and everyone is always shouting at me to snap out of it. Why can’t they see what I see? Or feel what I feel? It’d make everything so much fucking easier.

I guess I know what I’m wishing for tomorrow.

Micah

22 May, 2021

I’m 18. I didn’t think I would make it this far, to be honest with you. I and all my family figured I would have offed myself at this point. But I didn’t. I am still stuck in Priory, though. I didn’t have a terrible day. My mum and dad came to visit like they said they would, so I guess I was wrong for staying up all night thinking they wouldn’t and it was all just a sick prank. They brought me my favorite jumper to wear, it’s black with a red star knitted on the front. Jae got it for me for Christmas this past year. I wore it to sleep almost every night before my accident. They also got me a vanilla milkshake from a nearby shop that I could drink while we hung out in the fields behind the building.

“Just four more days,” Mum said, a kind of tired smile on her lips. I reached out and kissed her cheek, which was unlike me, because normally I’m not a very touchy person unless I’m super happy or sad. No in between.

The last thing I got was a Walkman. I’ve been asking for one for months because I’d grown out of my vinyl collecting phase. I wanted to walk around all my favorite parts of London with headphones on and listen to the crackling of static from a cassette instead of just dancing around my room. I value both very much still, but I’m excited to have my own cassette player and Straight Outta Compton as my first tape. I’m listening to it now.

Oh, one more thing: I got to text Jae. My parents brought me my phone and I was immediately confronted with a bunch of texts I never replied to, but the only person I could think of that was most deserving of a response was him. I only said, “I’m okay,” but I’ll give him a better explanation once I’m home.

But all of that isn’t why I’m writing now. I’m writing now because my mum told me the reason why I’m writing at all. I was afraid to know the truth, to be honest, but it was now or never. I was sipping on my milkshake while dad tried explaining to me the mechanics of my old but new Walkman while mum kept herself together as best she could.

I left the house at 6 A.M. It was rainy out. I had worn my band practice clothes overnight, which was what I was found in hours later: a cropped t-shirt (Ramones, because fuck the Sex Pistols), ripped skinny jeans with a studded belt, and my Doc Martens, none of which escaped the situation unscathed. I was walking around Camden in North London looking like someone dredged a raccoon in a vat of eyeliner and left it out to try on a clothespin. When I was found belly-up in the Moselle the police fished me out of the river and thankfully didn’t plant their greasy pig lips on mine because they realized I had not yet drowned, they did find traces of a white substance under my nose, and when I was brought to hospital they ran a thousand tests while I was incapacitated which deduced I had been high as fuck on, you guessed it, cocaine.

Another thing I couldn’t remember was supposedly getting into a fight with someone during my journey from my house to the river Moselle. My lip was split open and I had a gnarly black eye for a while. I’ve been told it could’ve been a lot worse. I guess they’re right. I could be dead.

But I’m not. I lived to see 18. Now I just have to see if I can make it to 27.

3,287 days to go.

Yes, I did the maths. I’m good at more than just drumming.

Micah

23 May, 2021

Some girl on my floor killed herself this morning. Her name was Eve, at least, that’s what we all called her. Whenever her mum would visit and refuse to call her anything except for Beula. I only learned after they unfastened the sheets she made into a noose that she had this grand delusion she was a reincarnation of the Eve from Genesis in the Bible. I should’ve seen it sooner, considering all she drew in the rec room were depictions of rainforests and unicorns that vomited candy; she also gave herself a sharpie tattoo of a snake that took up half of her arm. She thought I was taking the piss when I showed her my half-sleeve of crows I got at 16 and tried rubbing them off with all her brute strength. I nearly pinned her to the floor before a nurse intercepted. Six hours later she was dead.

I wish I could have said sorry. I feel like no one says it enough nowadays. They’re too concerned with I love you and I miss yous to think about the third forgotten sister: I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I fucked up, that I did all that coke and forgot about it, I’m sorry I made you find me there, Tal, all pale and violently ill, I’m sorry I disappointed all of you, I know I was supposed to make right the wrongs of my predecessors and all that shit parents expect from you, and even though I’m a little bit sour about it I’m still sorry.

All of that to say we’ve been on lockdown since then. If it wasn’t selfish enough she killed herself, she let her parents foot the bill of not only her treatment at a highly prestigious institution, but also her funeral. I can’t say that out loud, though. I won’t even read this part to my counselor — who, thank the God that made Eve and all her psychotic daughters, firmly values privacy. (Unless I act too skittish. I never said the values were unconditional.)

Three more days and then I’m free.

Micah

24 May, 2021

There was a candlelight vigil held for Eve tonight after dinner. It kind of reminded me of a cult ritual, because I couldn’t recognize any of the church songs they were singing. I assume they were church songs, anyway. I think she would have liked that. People worshiping her and all. Clearly she didn’t get enough of that in life. Everyone in group read an excerpt from their notebooks except for me. I normally give them a taste of my brilliantly phrased word vomit, but I didn’t feel like I had enough good things to say, so I kept it to myself and only read some of what I’d written to my counselor so she knows I’ve been keeping up with what I promised I would.

Since I’m nearing the end of my stay, I’m receiving a lot of cards and gifts from other in patients. It’s made me realize I’ve never written about any of them aside from Eve, and even that took her dying for me to think to include in this notebook. Maybe because I know I won’t read this once I’m gone, so why immortalize them? I have fantasized about burning this fucking notebook since the day it was handed to me. But I’ll give it a try now, in case I feel differently by the time I leave.

Eve’s best friend was a micro internet celebrity named Amythest who had an impressive TikTok following and also had a self-diagnosed dissociative disorder. Everyone called her Amy before despite her insisting she was a we and they had a ‘system name’. Can’t remember it now, it was something cringe and stupid, but as of yesterday we’ve all been calling her by whatever she wants. I heard someone refer to her as Bakugou at lunch.

“Isn’t that an anime villain?” I spoke up. I’d never spoken to Amythest before.

Her brown eyes cut into mine suddenly, and I felt taken aback. I could tell she felt a little out of place not wearing cat ears and colored contacts. “My source material doesn’t define me.” she defended. I didn’t argue. I didn’t know how.

Next there’s Amythest’s secret partner, Sock, a nonbinary artist who was actually good at what they did. I am much more familiar with Sock’s realm within the queer universe than I am Amythest’s, admittedly. Half the kids I go to school with don’t confine to gender norms and sometimes I don’t either. Sock is mostly nice and for someone dating over three hundred alters manages each one with a grace I’ll never have.

Sock’s roommate Emily Yang, who deserves her full name being said, is the prettiest girl at Priory. She’s half-Korean with nice sunkissed skin and blue, blue eyes, has her hair dyed half blonde, wears all-black no matter the occasion since her stay was planned and not as emergent as mine and she actually had a bag assembled, has had a fancy bipolar diagnosis since she was 14, and because of all that she and I are who get along the best. We both have a deep appreciation for American west coast rap and have spent countless nights staying up past curfew to smoke contraband cigarettes in the fields and listen to my one cassette tape.

My counselor thinks I’m in love with her. I only have four words to answer that question:

I AM A FAGGOT!

Anyway, Emily went to the vigil while I lingered behind. When she got back she told me I didn’t miss much, only Amythest sobbing so hard she ‘switched’ into her protective alter named Mysterion, and when I said, “Isn’t that from South Park?” Emily and I stared at one another before we started laughing. I think Eve would laugh too. We’re all kind of fucking ridiculous in the end.

Micah

25 May, 2021

I had my final group discussion, final rec room argument with Amythest and two of her alters, final breakfast, lunch, and dinner in the dining hall, and was excused to my room early since I have a big day tomorrow. All my things have been packed for me — Emily insisted. She’s the best. I’m now sitting at my desk eating a bread and butter pudding I stole from the cafeteria and snuck in, watching the sunset on my last full day at Priory Hospital North London.

I’ll be honest, I don’t entirely know what I got out of this experience minus some trauma and a new friend. I feel calmer now thanks to the new drug cocktail they have me on, which I’ve been forced into taking everyday as per my schedule that they’ve INSISTED I maintain while I’m away. Like I’ll be coming back soon. I guess people expect less of me than I already assumed.

Emily told me it’s my chance to prove them wrong. So I’m going to do that.

Micah

26 May, 2021

I’m giving this notebook to Emily so she can carry on my legacy. She needs it more, anyway. She doesn’t know when she’s going home. I hope it’s soon. It’s forbidden for us to keep in contact after we leave, as we might feed off of one another’s bad habits etc., etc., but I wrote my Insta in morse code at the back of this notebook for her to try and figure out. Only thing that huge library we have did for me, give me infinite knowledge of absolutely nothing applicable to real life. Until this moment.

For now, I’m going home, and I am never doing drugs again. Minus pot. I’ll even buy one of those D.A.R.E. shirts. That’s how serious I am.

So long and goodnight.

Micah

#micah — character study.#self-para #3k words

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mediocracy-at-best · 2 years

Text

hey i’m back because i’ve realized over the past couple months without this app i have nowhere to organize my thoughts & feel actually relieved about it so here i am.

i’m pissed off right now. i’m pissed that my career with makeup was supposed to take off in the summer with weddings but everyone is fucking canceling and nobody is answering me on thumbtack and all my clients i DO get are one person gigs or i have to travel all the way to fucking nyc or an hour in the car for it. i’m pissed right now because i’ve been talking to this girl all day and she literally bought the lashes i told her to buy for this fucking look & i was supposed to do her makeup in moorestown tomorrow at 3 before the sound of music preview and last minute she all the sudden says she can’t book me after talking to me all positively all fucking day.

2 of my fucking weddings have been canceled which means i’m losing hundreds of dollars i was supposed to make & have declined other opportunities on those dates. people hate answering their phones & waste my fucking leads on thumbtack with bullshit they aren’t even sure about, and i’m just fucking tired.

you have no idea how much i wish i could do this stable. or how much i wish i could be making money doing theatre. i fucking hate sitting around. i hate having nothing to wake up for and i hate not having a reason to get dressed. you know what else i hate? i hate having 14 dollars in my bank account because people can’t do their part (which is the easy part!! you literally get pampered!!!) i hate people making backhanded comments implying i’m not hardworking or implying i’m lazy. i hate that i’m gonna have to get a retail job (which i feel like i’ll crawl out of my skin) because what was supposed to work isnt fucking working. i hate that i peaked when i first started with my clientele. i hate it all. i really fucking do.

omg guys a fun little list!! jobs i was booked for that have gotten canceled in the past couple weeks! :D

- wedding for mel (300+ dollars) reason: lots of deaths in family lately (understandable of course, no anger there).

-wedding for sophia (200+ dollars) reason: they got covid, obviously understandable

-client in moorestown (80+ dollars) reason: no fucking idea, annoyed

-day 1 of short film shooting (80+ dollars) reason: couldn’t have anymore than 10 people in the filming location. wtf.

my prices aren’t even high. they’re literally fucking low. most makeup artists charge between 100-125 per face. i literally charge 70 + a small travel fee. why can’t i be successful. i’m not an idiot, i know my work is good. i know the content i put out is good & i know i’m kind and professional. why is it not good enough, why is it never good enough???

i know realistically it’s not my path, but sometimes i wonder if it would’ve just been easier in the long run if i went to college. even just community college. had some dumb degree in some stupid fucking field and got some stupid stable job i’d hate… but at least i’d have money and friends that i didn’t meet in high school. at least maybe i’d have a reason to wake up in the morning. maybe people wouldn’t passive aggressively call me lazy.

i don’t know how i’m going to figure out money in the future in general, i don’t know how to do anything because i was too depressed in high school because of fucking covid ruining everything to give a shit enough to learn about it.

not to mention some other problems.. summer emetophobia is spiking again, i’ve totally lost my oral hygiene to depression, i feel like everything in my life (my car, my room, my stationery, my makeup, my planner/job, etc), is unorganized… i have this weird feeling that my partner doesn’t love me like he used to (doubt that’s true, just an intrusive thought), i can’t step foot into his house because his mom screamed at me, and i’m kinda anxious about something stupid having to do with my 3 beagles. i just feel so overwhelmed & powerless right now. i hate falling asleep anxious, waking up alone in the morning, and trying to find hobbies/productive things to do until everyone gets home from their fucking lives.. since i don’t have one.

i’m sorry for this negative ass post, i doubt (and hope) nobody will see it anyways but basically i just fucking hate my life right now & wish i had more routine. but i don’t want to create my own routine. i want things to fall into place like they were fucking supposed to.

i want a life. but having one seems so overwhelming. but not having one is the most depressing underwhelming thing in the fucking universe.

hoping for better days.

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another-tmnt-writer · 2 years

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Get Home Safe

Leonardo x Reader

Author: Admin Mo

AU: College

Summary: After a messy breakup, your ex isn’t over you. But when he starts acting weird, Leo will stop at nothing to make sure you get home safe.

Note: Hey besties, so this is actually something I’m experiencing right now. It is…not fun, to say the least. And when this happened initially, I just kept thinking [fictional character] wouldn’t treat me this way. If your ex (or anyone, really) starts acting creepy, don’t hesitate to get help before it gets worse. I’m so lucky to have people in my life looking out for me to make sure I’m alright.

Also, the reader is a film major in this (again, sorry I’m a film major I can’t help it lol) and this is very loosely connected to the Raph college au I wrote a while back. Basically, the turtles took Chief Vincent’s deal and are now attending a human college.

Warnings: Slight stalking, icky ex-boyfriend, swearing

Word Count: 2.0k

Reader Is: Gender Neutral :)

It was a seemingly normal day in your film class. Today was an equipment day, which meant your class was setting everything up to see how it worked and get comfortable with the equipment. They were always pretty fun, chill days, and today, you were determined to learn to set up the sound stuff.

“Leonardo, you’re assistant directing today, alright? Run the show, make sure everything gets set up on time.” Your professor instructed.

“On it.” Leo nodded. He was sitting a few rows behind you. He was one of four giant mutant turtles that went to your college. At first, it had been kind of a shock that they even existed at all, but you’d talked to him a bit, as well as his brother, Mikey, who had considered being a film major briefly before switching to being an art student, focusing on painting. You thought it was kind of ironic, given that his namesake painted the Sistine Chapel, but from what you’d seen, his art was really solid.

“Production Designers…get the set designed and then help out some of the others, alright? We’re going for a diner look. Do with that what you will.”

You looked at the other Production Designer in the class, a girl named Jenny, and you both nodded. Well, there was another Production Designer, but you weren’t exactly on speaking terms with him. To make a long story short, he was your ex-boyfriend and he was toxic as hell. You’d broken up about a month before, but he was still furious about it, which made any time you had to interact with him awful and terribly awkward. Luckily, he pretty much stayed out of your way.

Once you all had your orders, you all split and went in your different directions. You and Jenny walked over to the portion of the classroom that served as your fake set. Behind the fake wall, there was various props and furniture, so the two of you dragged a pair of booths and a table onto the set before setting the table with some plates, glasses, and fake food. Of course, your ex, Coleman, did nothing, as usual. Just stood off in the corner, staring at you.

“He gives me the creeps.” Jenny said under her breath. “He really just needs to get over it.”

“Tell me about it.” You said, chuckling and shaking your head. You looked over the finished set. It was simple, sure, but you didn’t have a lot to work with, nor did you have that much to do. Meanwhile, everyone else was getting the other equipment, which usually took longer, set up.

“Do we have anyone on sound?” You heard your professor ask Leo, who looked around the room, his eyes settling in your general direction.

“Production Design, you guys done?” Leo asked.

You gave a thumbs-up. “All set over here.”

He jabbed a giant green thumb behind him at the sound cases. “Wanna work sound?”

“Yeah absolutely.” You nodded, eager to get some hands-on experience, given that you barely knew what you were doing when it came to the technical aspect of your major. You much preferred the artsy side of things, like writing and production design.

When Coleman saw Leo interacting with you and Jenny, he walked over. You and Jenny started taking the sound equipment out to put together and Coleman just…hovered behind you awkwardly, watching. Brooding with this awful, seeping negativity.

“I, uh, think we only need two people on sound.” Leo interjected politely, looking at Coleman. “One for the recorder and one for the boom. Could you go downstairs to check out an AC kit? It looks like they forgot to send it up with the rest of the stuff.”

Coleman grunted softly and then nodded. “Yeah, sure.” He said, storming out of the classroom to go get it.

You looked up at Leo, grateful, and mouthed, “Thank you.”

He nodded, genuine. He didn’t know exactly what had happened between the two of you, but he could tell it was probably best to keep you and Coleman apart, even if it meant sending him on meaningless tasks to get him out of the room.

By the time Coleman got back, you already had the sound equipment set up and you were holding the boom pole. You walked over towards the set where, slowly, everything was coming together. Two of your classmates started pushing the monitor, a giant flatscreen TV, over towards the set. Leo stepped in and used that enhanced strength of his to give them a boost and get things moving, and you had to admit, watching him…it was kinda hot. He was kinda hot.

The actors got in their places and you hoisted the boom pole onto your shoulders, positioning it just so while Jenny checked the levels on the recorder on her hip. And yet, Coleman still found a way to creep on you, peeking around the monitor with the intent purpose of staring straight at you. You caught him in your peripheral, but ignored him, doing your job like you were supposed to.

“You good?” You jolted at the sudden noise behind the curtain at the edge of the room, just outside of the set. You looked up to find Leo there. How he’d snuck behind there so silently, you weren’t sure, and then you remembered that although he was well over six feet tall and muscular, he was also a ninja. He was accustomed to moving in the shadows.

“Yeah, I’m good.” You whispered, nodding. “He keeps staring at me…”

“I saw. Do you want me to talk to professor?”

You thought about it for a moment, but shook your head. “I think I’m okay. Thank you so much, Leo.”

“Yeah, of course. Let me know if that changes, alright?” There was concern in his blue, blue eyes, and for a moment, you remembered just what he’d been through, how many women he’d saved from muggers on the street. And the way he looked at you…he was afraid you’d end up in a similar situation.

So were you, if you were honest.

“I will.”

***

Once you were done with the scene, and finished with class for the day, you packed up your stuff and started walking out of the room. You caught Coleman out of the corner of your eye, all packed up but not leaving yet, but you didn’t think anything of it. You always went that way. You always walked alone. It was afternoon when your class got out, so you were confident nothing would happen to you in broad daylight.

You were about halfway down the stairs when Coleman caught up to you.

“Hey, could we talk for like thirty seconds?” He asked, his voice tense, edging on anger. Something seized in you at the sound of his voice.

“About what?”

“I saw your passive aggressive tweet. The one about getting so much done on your Thursday nights now. I get it, alright? We’re broken up and we don’t have our little movie nights anymore. I hope you’re fucking happy.”

Your heart raced. “Wha—"

“And I hope you can get your money back for that stupid concert ticket. Or better yet, burn it. I didn’t want to go with you anyway, you stupid—”

“HEY!” Leo walked down the stairs. “Leave (Y/N) alone, Coleman.”

Coleman looked up, up, up at the turtle standing in front of him, stopped in his tracks for a moment. He faltered before muttering a “yeah, whatever,” and walking out the front doors of the building.

You took a deep breath, letting it roll out of you slowly before looking up at your hero. “Thank you, Leo. I…I don’t know what I would have done if you didn’t show up.”

“Anytime. What’s his deal?”

“He’s an asshole. I was his first [partner]. He’s obsessed with me now and…and I guess he has to take the breakup out on me because he can’t take it out on himself.” You shuddered. “It’s kind of the worst.”

“Sounds like it. Well, where are you headed? Do you want someone to walk with you?”

“Please.” You nodded, eager to spend some time not alone just in case Coleman decided to try anything. “I was actually just headed to the Eastman building to get a chai.”

“Oh perfect. My brothers and I actually have lunch there between classes, if you want to sit with us until you calm down.”

“That would be awesome. Thank you, Leo.”

He smiled. “Yeah, of course.”

With Leo by your side, the walk to the Eastman building wasn’t as tense or scary as it would have been if you had gone alone, constantly worried Coleman would be around any corner you turned. Instead, you had a nice walk over, chatting about your other classes.

While you ordered your drink, Leo waited with you, and then he escorted you into the dining hall, easily finding where his other brothers were sitting.

“Guys, this is (Y/N). They’re going to be sitting with us today, if that’s alright.”

“Hey, (Y/N)!” Mikey greeted, excited. “How have you been? It’s been a while.”

“I’m doing good, dude. I miss you in film class. How’s the art thing going?”

“Aww, I miss you too, dude! It’s been going pretty good! Some of my profs are super chill, but some are like…really uptight. Like it’s art! It’s supposed to be creative.”

“You know, Mikey, sometimes with disciplines like painting, it’s important to learn the rules before you’re allowed to break them.” The brother in purple pointed out. “I’m Donatello, by the way. This is Raph.”

“Nice to meet ya.”

Leo looked awkwardly between you and his brothers. “Will you be alright here if I go grab some lunch real quick?”

“I’ll be fine, Leo. Thank you.” You told him, giving him a nod of your blessing before he went on his way to grab his lunch.

“What’s that about?” Mikey asked, a little concerned. He knew his brother and he knew the look he gave you. “Did something happen?”

“Yeah, my…ex followed me after class and harassed me over some tweet. It wasn’t even about him, it was just about how I finished my thesis last Thursday. He’s just…really toxic and bitter about the breakup.”

“Congratulations on the thesis! Sucks about your ex, though.” Mikey said, giving a look of understanding.

“Thank you.”

“Want me to teach him a lesson?” Raph asked, raising an eyebrow.

You laughed. “If he pulls something like that again? Be my guest.”

“You know, if he does continue this behavior…you might be able to get a restraining order against him.” Donatello advised, pushing up his glasses. “I would also email your professor and let him know what happened.”

“I was planning on it, yeah. But I’ll definitely look into the restraining order thing. Thank you.”

Leo came back at record speed, settling into the empty seat beside you. You sipped on your chai and chatted with the boys for a while before they all had to split off to go to their next classes. You were done for the day, so you had to take the bus back.

“I’ll walk you to the bus.” Leo offered.

“But your class—”

“I’m sure Professor Laird will understand if I’m a few minutes late.” Leo shrugged.

“Thank you, Leo. I really appreciate it.”

“Of course.” He nodded. “I just…I want to make sure you’re safe.”

Luckily, the bus stop was just outside the building, and you didn’t have to wait long for your bus to pull in. Without thinking twice about it, you hugged Leo and, after a moment of hesitation, he hugged you back. You felt so safe in his arms, even after what had happened earlier.

“Let me know when you get home safe, alright?” Leo said, his voice soft and genuine. “And lock your door.”

“I always do.”

“Good.” Leo nodded.

You pulled out of the hug. “See you Thursday.”

“See you Thursday.”

Part 2?

#tmnt #tmnt 2016 #bayverse #leonardo #leonardo x reader #leonardo imagine #tmnt imagine #leo #leo x reader #leo imagine #college au

352 notes · View notes

v-hope · 4 years

Text

With You

Pairing: Jeon Jeongguk x Reader

Genre: Fluff, smut, College!AU, established relationship

Word Count: 5.2k

Summary: Although trying to fight it, Jeongguk can’t help but become insecure about your relationship after your ex best friend starts filling his head with lies about you and Taehyung, his best friend who you just so happened to be out with that day. Good thing is, you’re right there with him to reassure him you want him and only him.

—Alternatively, the one in which during a heated make out session you find out your boyfriend is a virgin, and decide to help him get himself off.

Warnings: Heavy making out, light body touching (?), dry humping, confident Guk and shy/awkward Guk keep switching places, handjob, blowjob. And yup, Guk’s (still) a virgin.

A/N: Helloo, this from part 28 of my Social Media AU ‘Tiger Flower’, but I guess you can still read it if you haven’t read the full story lol. So this was supposed to be a 2k drabble like the ones I always write but I got a bit carried away 🤡 I hope you enjoy! 💕 ALSO, someone asked me to bold the beginning and ending of the smut part(s), so if you don’t wanna read the smut just look for the bolded words and skip what’s in between lol.

Running his hands through his face as the elevator’s doors opened, Jeongguk started walking through the hallway to his place, head lowered as he absently looked in his pocket for the keys to the apartment.

The conversation he had with Sooyeon was still going through his mind over and over. Although he had managed to sound confident enough through the texts they had exchanged and he had put her in her place —along with blocking her ass just like he had wanted to ever since the first time she brought you up into the conversation—, he could not deny her words did hit home.

Taehyung was definition of your type. Outgoing, talkative, funny, handsome. The life of the party, in other words. Something he was not, and something he would never be, considering he did not show up to parties at all if it wasn’t because he was either forced to by his friends or because you would be there.

Taehyung could most definitely show you a good time, whereas he, on the other hand…

No, fuck that. You were dating him. He was your boyfriend. He, Jeon Jeongguk. That was all he could find comfort in.

Then again, you were not with him right then. You were somewhere else with Taehyung. As friends, but still. And then again, just like he had a high school crush on you and found himself falling all over again three years into college, so had you with Taehyung right before dating him. Would it really be that hard for you to fall for him a third time when the two of you were still so close?

He shook his head, as if trying to shake his thoughts away. Don’t let Sooyeon get to you, Y/N’s with you for a reason. Don’t let Sooyeon get t—

“Hey…”

Before his head could keep on torturing him, your voice brought him back out of his small trance, fixing his wide doe eyes on you for two seconds before he took in his surroundings, only then realising he had already reached his apartment’s door.

Staring back at you, his eyes lit up.

“Hey,” he said softly. “What… What are you doing here?”

You shifted nervously in your place. “You sounded kinda off through texts, so I just wanted to check up on you”.

He nodded quietly, fighting the huge smile that was threatening with forming on his lips.

Because you were there. With him.

“You didn’t, um…” his eyes travelled to the door for a second before they were back on you. “Joon-ie hyung didn’t open the door for you?”

A small laugh escaped your lips at the way his eyebrows had furrowed, ready to fight his roommate for leaving you waiting out there for God knows how long. “I didn’t call on the door” you explained, causing his eyebrows to knit further together in utter confusion. “I didn’t know if you wanted me here at all, so I thought I’d just wait outside in case you wanted to be alone and asked me to g—”

Your words were cut off by a sweet kiss being pressed to your lips. Although taken aback the first second, you smiled when he cupped your face to press his mouth deeper against yours.

“What was that for?” you smiled once he pulled away, eyes still closed as you felt his nose gently bumping yours.

“I’m just happy you’re here” he breathed contently.

“That’s good to hear” you sheepishly admitted, resting your hands on his chest. “I honestly thought you would ask me to leave”.

He shook his head no, pecking your lips before he pulled you into his arms. “Don’t be silly, you know I always want to be with you”.

You took in a shaky breath, feeling all the tension you had been building up until then leave your body for good, and then wrapping your arms tightly around him as well. “Yeah, but you sounde—”

“Shh,” he hushed you, pressing a brief kiss to your neck. “I want you here”.

You let out another laugh, not only because of how happy his words made you, but because of the way he later grabbed your face once again to start peppering kisses all over it.

“Yah, Jeon Jeongguk!” you called him out in between giggles. “We’re in the middle of the hallway”.

He laughed, pecking your lips one last time before he pulled away. You just didn’t know how much it meant to him having you there with him right then when he needed you the most.

Without another word, he took his keys out of his pocket, like he had intended to minutes ago, and finally opened the door.

Stopping in his tracks, he turned around to look at you with a raised brow. “You’re coming in, right?”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “I mean, since you ask so nicely…”

Rolling his eyes at your overdramatic ways, he grabbed your hand, pulling you inside his place with him, not giving you time to even take a look around as he dragged you into his room.

“I don’t even get to say hi to Joon?” you teased as you closed the door behind you and he went to lie down on his bed.

“You can go say hi if you want” he replied simply, resting his weight on his elbows so he could properly look at you.

“Nah,” you shrugged, watching his nose scrunch up as his lips parted into a big smile when you started walking towards him. “I came to see you after all”.

“That you did” he contently affirmed, that being all he needed to let go of his intrusive thoughts.

Letting his back fall on the bed once again, he stretched his arm out on the mattress for you to go over there. Without another word, you crawled in bed with him, resting your head on his arm just like he wanted you to, scooting closer to him when his hand rested on your shoulder, and then resting yours on his chest.

“So how was work?” you tried to initiate small talk, tenderly running your fingers in circular motions from his chest to his abdomen.

The sigh that had escaped his mouth let you know not so well.

Work itself had been alright . What happened afterwards when he was heading home and Sooyeon texted him? Yeah, that had been shitty as hell.

“I blocked Sooyeon” he let you know.

Your head snapped up. “Hadn’t you already done that?”

“From Instagram, yeah” he nodded. “I blocked her phone number now. It can be a little awkward tomorrow when I see her but it’s the last day of filming, so I couldn’t care less”.

Although wanting to laugh —because, let’s be honest, that new piece of information could only bring you joy—, you ended up pouting in confusion.

“Something happened?”

“The usual,” he took in a deep breath. “She was talking shit”.

You nodded understandingly. Although wanting to know the details, you understood he didn’t really want to talk about it, for otherwise he would’ve told you by then. So, you said nothing, settling for pressing a lingering kiss to his shoulder instead.

“Is that why you were upset?” you wondered.

Jeongguk stayed quiet, both in awe at how you could tell he wasn’t feeling his best just by a couple of texts, and once again upset at the conversation he had held with Sooyeon earlier that evening.

“Kinda” he tried to shrug it off.

You puckered your lips, stopping your soothing motions on his torso and resting your palm on it instead so you could support your body up as you looked for his chocolate eyes.

“Was it because I went out with Tae?”

The way his body had tensed was all the answer you needed. However, he surprised you by shaking his head no.

“It wasn’t… I mean,” he sighed, pushing his hair back with his hand. “You guys are friends, it’s okay”.

You stared at him intently. Maybe he claimed it didn’t bother him, but his eyes right then, which remained fixed on the ceiling instead of your concerned ones, told you otherwise.

Placing your hand on his arm and giving it a light squeeze, you leaned in to briefly press your lips to his cheek. “I’m sorry,” your sincere words managed to catch his attention. “I should’ve asked if you were okay with it”.

He shook his head no immediately, sitting up and resting his back on the headboard. “You don’t need to ask for my permission to meet up with people, petal”.

“I know, but,” you shrugged, sitting up as well by his side and focusing your eyes somewhere other than his. “Everything is still kind of recent, I should’ve been more considerate of your feelings. I’m just so used to hanging out with mostly guys that I forget I have a boyfriend now and you—”

You caught on the way he had —teasingly— raised up a questioning eyebrow, making you mentally go over the words you had just said and panic once you realised how wrongly you had worded them.

“Wait, no!” you tried to correct yourself immediately, as he could no longer hold his serious semblance and started laughing. “I don’t forget I have a boyfriend, I meant that I forget you might not be very fond of—yah!” you called him out when his laugh did no longer allow your words to be heard.

“I know what you meant, petal” he reassured you, grabbing your hand and gently running his thumb on the back of it. “You look so cute when you panic”.

“Aish, you’re so annoying” you crossed your arms over your chest.

Chuckling at your cute annoyance, he took advantage of your folded arms to pull you towards him by them, having you instinctively straddle his lap after his lips collided with yours.

“You’re really okay with it then?” you asked one last time, cupping his face as he opened his eyes; watching the way they smiled right before he nodded.

He trusted you. Both you and Taehyung. He really did.

He knew the two of you were just friends. After all, he had told Taehyung it was okay for him to hang out with you from time to time back when they had The Talk. And he was truly okay with it. It was just that he couldn’t help being insecure sometimes, and Sooyeon’s words had only managed to increase that feeling.

He needed some reassurance from you, that was all.

“Just…” he licked his lips as he tried to find the right words. “You want to be with me… right?”

You answered his question with a slow, lingering kiss. One that left him aching for more, lips slightly puckered when yours left their touch. “I’m with you for a reason, bun” you cooed. “I mean, I am your girlfriend after all, am I not?”

He smiled blissfully, still feeling a wave of heat run up his body whenever that word was mentioned in reference to you, as he was not quite used to it yet. “Don’t go forgetting I’m your boyfriend then”.

Just as a light laugh escaped your mouth at his mocking remark, he entangled his fingers in the hair at the back of your head to pull you back into his lips, resting one of his hands on your lower back as you wrapped your arms around his neck the way he loved it, slightly opening your mouth to give him easier access to it.

And maybe it was the loose fabric of the oversized hoodie of his you had kept and were wearing that day, that made it so easy for his hands reach for your naked body underneath, or maybe it was just the way he had been craving you for so long, what made him dig his hands inside of it without a second thought — fingertips hesitantly tracing your skin and thumbs drawing circles on your waist for a couple of seconds before they trailed all the way up to the hem of your bra, where they stopped in their tracks and travelled to your back instead, as he didn’t want to overstep any more boundaries than he already thought he had.

Earning a small protesting whine from him when your mouth let go of his, you surprised him by digging your own hands under your hoodie and grabbing his wrists, causing a shaky break to abandon his mouth when you placed his hands on your breasts, just like that, giving him the last little push he needed to do what he was dying to.

“You can touch me all you want” you managed to say a little out of breath, not having time to feel shy at your own words under his piercing stare before his mouth was once more smashing on yours.

Enjoying the spoken consent you had just given him, he wasted no time in cupping your breasts, smiling in between your kisses at the way they felt so perfect in his hands — imagining how much softer they would feel without the lacy fabric in the way.

Letting go of one of them, he placed his hand on your bare back to pull you closer against his chest, giving the one still in his hold a firm squeeze that had you moaning against his lips.

And right then, he felt something he had not quite felt before. It was the way he felt his blood boil and the way he wanted more. He wanted to hear more of that melodic sound. He wanted more of you.

Only, the next second, it was you the one making a raspy moan come out of his mouth, when you grinded against his lap, providing him the friction he didn’t know he needed so bad.

Removing one of his hands from underneath your hoodie, he cupped one of your cheeks to keep you steady as he sucked your bottom lip into his mouth, tongue tracing its outline so you would open up. Doing as he wanted, you felt his tongue pleasantly massage yours, deciding right then you also wanted to feel his bare skin against your fingertips, not letting any other second go by before your hands were already making their way inside his black sweatshirt, feeling goosebumps form on his skin as your faint touch inevitably tickled his abdomen.

Letting go of his mouth, you planted a kiss to his jaw before making your way down to his neck, getting a gasp out of his mouth when you started sucking at the sensitive skin.

With the intention of keeping you still on his lap as your hungry lips worked on his neck, he placed both of his hands on your hips — momentarily forgetting about his own strength and ending up pulling you down roughly enough for you to unintentionally rub once more against his already hardening member.

“Fuck” he rasped, feeling you smile agains his neck before you rolled your hips one more time just to get another moan out of him.

Not letting go of your hips, if anything grabbing them tighter, he turned both of you around so he could be in control now. With your head hitting the soft pillow, and still taken aback by his sudden actions, you allowed his needy lips to attack yours once more for a while before they peppered small kisses all their way down to your neck.

“Jeongguk” you moaned when he thrusted his hips against your center.

He smiled, loving the tone his name had just came out with from your pretty lips. Wanting more of it, he did it again, going back to your mouth right in time to muffle the moan that had just escaped your mouth, as you could not be anything other than grateful at the fact he had decided to wear a pair of dark joggers that particular day, allowing you to feel his stiff member with little to no restraints.

With one hand holding onto your hip and his other one making its way back inside your hoodie and up to your breasts, he cupped one of them — his thumb giving attention to your nipple by making circular motions over the thin fabric of your bra and having you bite your bottom lip to hold back a moan.

Losing yourself into his pleasant touch, you rested your hands over his back, wrapping your legs tight around his waist, pulling his hips once more into your center. A satisfied smile curved up your lips at the way he had to let go of your mouth and buried his face in the crook of your neck to muffle the quite loud moan that had just escaped his lips — thrusting into you one more time just as you rolled your hips up to meet him there.

Breathing heavily at the ongoing friction, you let your hands travel down to the waistband of his joggers so you could pull them down and feel him up.

And although for just a second, you felt his lips abandon the spot they had been teasing on your neck — an almost inaudible gasp escaping his mouth as his body tensed up.

That was all you needed to stop.

“What happened?” you worried.

“Nothing” he was quick to try and brush it off, going back to pepper wet kisses to your neck.

“No, Guk” you lightly pushed him off you, cupping his face in your hands so he had no choice but to look at you. “If you don’t want t—”

“I want to” he stated before you could even finish your sentence.

Fuck, he wanted to.

“Then?”

Jeongguk sighed in defeat, managing to break free from your hold and letting his forehead fall to your shoulder. “It’s embarrassing…”

Your eyebrows furrowed, not understanding where he was trying to go with this at all. “You can trust me”.

He took in a deep breath. He knew he could trust you. He knew you would never make fun of him for such a thing. However, to him, his lack of experience, especially since you did have some of it, could only be something he felt insecure about.

“Bun…” you tried to reassure him, wrapping your arms around him and planting kiss after kiss to the side of his head.

“I’ve never…” his voice came out muffled as he spoke against your shoulder, making it harder for you to hear.

“What?”

“I’ve never had...” he spoke louder this time. “You know…”

He found delusional how hard it was for him to admit it. He had never really minded, to be honest. Whenever his friends teased him because of it he would just brush it off. It wasn’t that he was not interested in having sex, he was a young man with many needs after all. And it wasn’t that he didn’t feel ready either —or well, that until that evening, because it was fair to say he was freaking out now that it was you the one he was about to be with—. It was just that no one had ever caught his attention the way you had. There was never someone he felt the need to have this kind of intimacy with, until you.

That’s why, unlike with his friends, he did mind when it came to you. It was hard for him to admit it to you because, although he knew you’d understand, you could always be disappointed at his lack of experience, and it was precisely not being good enough for you what worried him the most, what had made him hesitate before.

“You’ve never… had sex?” you softly finished for him.

He nodded shamefully, and for a good couple of seconds you couldn’t believe him. Yes, he had told you once he had never been on a date, but dates are different than sex. For starters, you didn’t need to really talk during sex, which was what you knew troubled him the most about dates and just meeting people in general. Besides, with a guy as handsome as Jeongguk, you had been positive he must’ve been with someone at least once.

However, opposite to the disappointed reaction he thought you would have, he found himself relaxing under your touch when you pressed a kiss to his head.

“Gotta say I can’t believe and am kinda disappointed that no one ever tried to jump your bones before” your bold words had him laughing in a second, pinching one of your sides to call you out on them. “Seriously, bun. I mean, look at you!”

“Shut up” he mumbled, feeling his cheeks burn in embarrassment.

You chuckled, gently shoving his face with your shoulder to let him know you wanted him to look at you, making him feel at ease just by seeing the smile on your lips once he did as told. “It’s okay”.

“It is?” his voice came out uncertain.

You nodded, cupping his face. “Of course it is. I’ll wait for as long as you want me to”.

“But I want to” he pointed out embarrassingly fast, earning a light laugh from you.

“Then I’ll just wait until the moment’s right and you feel like going through with it without hesitating” you kissed his pink lips briefly — as if on cue, your heads snapping to the next room after hearing Namjoon drop something and cursing at it. “And until we’re alone and won’t risk being heard by our roommates, maybe”.

Jeongguk laughed at your last addition, leaning in to peck your lips three times. “I like the sound of that” he smiled, only for it to be erased when his eyes instinctively went down to the problem he had just been left with inside his pants. “I should probably, um…”

Your eyes followed his as they glanced down to his still hardened length. You had been too caught up on kissing him before to pay attention to it. But now, watching the outline of his erection poking through his sweatpants, you found yourself wanting more of him all over again.

“I can help you with that if you want” you couldn’t stop the words from coming out of your mouth, having his attentive eyes lock with yours in a second. “We don’t need to have sex for that”.

Jeongguk licked his lips, deep in thought over something he already knew the answer to. “Don’t feel like you have to...”

“I want to” you stated.

Simple as that, he found himself nodding — your determined eyes being the last push he needed to let go of the shyness he had suddenly been filled with and just give in to what he wanted, to what he needed.

With a smile curving up your lips, you gently stole a kiss from his mouth, sweetly pecking it a couple of times before you finally sucked on his bottom lip — a muffled moan coming out of his mouth when you gave it a teasing bite right as your hand palmed him over his pants.

“You have to be quiet” you reminded him with a light laugh. And for a second there you were kinda glad it wasn’t you the one on the receiving side, for you weren’t sure you’d be able to keep it down either at all.

Not being able to say anything in reply, he just nodded — a pretty eager nod that seemed more like one to move on from the topic already than one of agreement. Nevertheless, you had no intentions of stopping, (un)luckily for him.

Pressing another kiss to his swollen lips, you fidgeted with the waistband of his joggers just like you had intended to before. This time, he didn’t tense up, and you took that as your green light before you dug your hand in them.

“M—Fuck” he mewled when you took a hold of his cock, burying his face in the crook of your neck as you guided it out of his clothes.

Letting go of it for a second, you helped him on his back so you could sit up into a more comfortable position before wrapping your hand around it again, and right then you could’ve sworn you would never get tired of the pretty sounds that escaped his lips every time you touched him.

Gently, as you were just then discovering what it was he enjoyed the most, you started giving him a few pumps, trying to find the right pace for him and his needs.

“Baby, fuck” he breathed out, leaning his head deeper againt the pillow as he looked for some kind of support.

And it was the way he faintly thrusted his hips up into your hand, what let you know he was craving more. Not having to think twice, you sped up the pace of the way your hand moved up and down his length, tightening your hold on it just a little bit more.

“Mm… Just like that,” he let you know softly, as if suddenly remembering about the whole being-quiet-thing. “Just like that”.

“Feels good?” you wondered, enjoying the view of his furrowed eyebrows and closed eyes as he gave in to your touch.

“So good” he agreed.

Licking your lips, you stared down at his hard cock in your hand, giving it one last pump before your thumb slowly spread his precum over its tip.

“You alright with just my hand?” you asked and he was nodding before you could finish the question, which made you wonder if he had even heard it at all or was immersed enough in his own pleasure to agree to anything. “Or would you enjoy my mouth being wrapped around you better?”

His eyes opened as soon as the word ‘mouth’ was on the table, studying your face for a couple of seconds to make sure you were not playing with him in his vulnerable state. At the sight of your lustful eyes on him, however, he knew you were indeed very serious. And he’d be damned if he ever turned down such an offer.

“I want your mouth” although determined, his voice came out shakily.

Nevertheless, you were willing to comply with his wishes.

Jeongguk was on the edge of losing it when he saw you smile and make your hair out of the way right before you leaned down, removing your thumb from the tip of his cock so you could replace it with your tongue instead — a hiss escaping his mouth when you licked the traces of the precum you had just spreaded over it.

Giving him two small pumps, you allowed yourself to take him in your mouth; far from being able to take his entire length, yet enough for his body to tremble out of utter pleasure.

“Y/N…” he whimpered, fingers entangling in your hair as he desperately tried to control the overwhelming pleasure your wet mouth and tight lips wrapped around his cock were giving him.

Not once had he ever felt this good before, both your hand and mouth taking him places his hand alone could’ve never taken him to. And he was afraid he would come in your mouth anytime by then.

Pulling it out of your mouth, you threw him a small glance before you carried on — your tongue tracing all the way from the base to the tip, hearing him moan when you took him in your mouth a second time.

“Fuck, baby, you—ah,” he moaned when you swirled your tongue over his tip. “You feel so good”.

Enjoying way too much being the reason behind how good he was feeling, you decided to do him a favour and push him closer to his release for once and for all.

Slightly tightening your hold on him, you started once again moving your hand up and down his length, switching between the ministrations both your hand and mouth were applying on it, and knowing you were driving him over the edge when his hold on your hair tightened and his body trembled ever so slightly.

“Y/N…” he panted. “F-Fuck, I’m—”

His words were cut off by the heavy breath he had to take when you gave him one last particular pump, trying his best to hold on. Noticing that, you gave one of his thighs a squeeze to let him know it was okay for him to let go. And he was so desperate to reach his high right then, that your small gesture alone was all he needed to do so.

Closing his eyes, he found himself having to cover his mouth with his arm not to be too loud when his orgasm hit, feeling his warm release spreading into your mouth. Moving his hand up to cover his eyes as he came down from his high, letting himself get lost in the aftershocks of it, he missed the way you tasted his release in your mouth.

Cleaning the small stains of it left on the tip of his member, you adjusted it back inside his pants and went to lie down next to him, smiling adoringly at the way his chest moved up and down as he tried to catch his breath and tenderly removing his arm from his face, having his eyes find yours in a second.

“Was that okay?” you asked, softly removing a few strands of hair that had gotten stuck to his slightly sweaty forehead.

Jeongguk smiled incredulously, gently running his fingers through your hair to try and fix the mess he had made on it. “You even have to ask?”

And somehow that was all you needed to hear for the heat to reach your face, suddenly feeling shy at what you had just done.

Catching up on that, he pulled you into his arms, pressing a couple of kisses to your cheek before moving them to your mouth, where they remained for a little longer.

“You’re amazing” he said truthfully — the way he had said it, letting you know he did not just mean it when it came to sucking him off.

You smiled wholeheartedly. “Yah, don’t” your eyes focused somewhere else, feeling your face burn.

Jeongguk smiled sweetly, managing to draw your attention back to him by ever so tenderly caressing your cheek. Fuck, he loved you. And right then, with your eyes looking at him in a way he thought they had never when you were just friends, although unspoken, delusional even, he really felt like maybe you felt the same, too.

Tilting your face up just enough, he connected his lips with yours for what felt like the hundredth time that evening. “I’ll be good to you, too”.

You chuckled, loving the idea of it and kissing him briefly to let him know you did. You knew he would.

“When we’re alone, though. I won’t have Joon hear from me what he probably just heard from you”.

Jeongguk laughed, deciding to say nothing and instead pull you tightly into his chest and rest his chin on your head. And although he knew he might never hear the end of it from his friends, for once, he did not care what the rest had to either think or say.

6K notes · View notes

alluringjae · 3 years

Text

until dawn - ljn

part I | part II

⤑ summary: basic number one rule of the museum is not to touch the art. but no one told jeno that falling for one of them isn’t allowed either.

⤑ pairing: jeno x female reader

⤑ word count: 14k

⤑ genre: fluff, humor, angst | broke architecture major!jeno, historical figure!reader, college!au

⤑ warnings: jaemin mentions onlyfans as a joke, references to actual historical figures (some try to flirt with jeno lol) and literature, explicit language

⤑ author’s note: wow, i’ve had this idea for almost two years! this one was inspired by one of my favorite childhood movies, night at the museum. it definitely required a lot of research and brainstorming, and finally i brought it to life! it was so fun to play around with the characters, and even if majority of them are real people, this is all still fiction.

i also wanna mention one of my moots, marge for enlightening me about her life as an architecture major.

⤑ taglist: @renjunniehome (dm me if you want to be added)

⤑ leave me some feedback, constructive criticism or hellos!

Dormitory rent was another thing to worry about aside from the inflated university tuition per semester. Although he’s lucky to have his parents backing him up already on it, paying the monthly rent for his dorm was the remaining objective on Jeno’s list.

Plus, money for food. The man was a heavy eater, following the whole “gym is life” mantra.

Splitting it already with two of his dorm mates turned best friends, Renjun and Jaemin, his plate felt lighter. But the question still lies: where on earth was he going to get the money?

He’s practically checked out every available part-timing job in university and anywhere near campus. Barista at the same café Jaemin works at, teaching assistant for an art school for kids, convenience store cashier, library assistant, all taken in a heartbeat. The burden of his friends paying his debt these past months took a toll on him, almost to the point he almost considered making an Onlyfans.

“Yah, just find something else! Part-timers are in demand right now!” Renjun intensely closed his laptop before his older friend gets any suggestive thoughts.

“I mean, you didn’t work out your body to look the way it is for nothing.” Jaemin pitched otherwise, lifting the front back up. “When do you want to start filming? Loads of chicks would dig a piece of you!”

The contradicting opinions of his friends were like the devil and angel debating on his shoulders. Useless, he gave this worry a rest and returned to drawing new plates. A common thing when you’re an architecture major. Those deadlines were nearing. Looks like he’ll pull another all-nighter again.

Good thing most of his classes were late in the morning until 6 pm.

As if someone from above heard his petition, Jeno saw a help wanted sign posted on the bulletin board outside of the university museum. He initially went there to document some artwork and architecture models from Greek and Roman times, further analyzing how they’re still apparent in modern buildings.

The sign explained the need for one part-timer from any college to cover the night shift of the museum due to the current night guard’s full semester absence. He only had to come in 3x a week, choosing his days since he was still a student. Even the pay was above average, considering that most part-timers never go beyond midnight. Jeno would, on the other hand, always staying for his projects or gaming with the boys. Drinking sometimes during late-night Fridays with his entire college crew.

The pay would leave him a load of extra cash for himself, thus he sent an application to the museum office right before he left. A week later, while he was out with the boys, he got a text from the office that they wanted to meet him again for a final interview first thing on Monday.

Perhaps it was having architecture as his course and a healthy physique that landed him the part-timer position. Mainly, the latter because guards required strong endurance and fighting skills when worse comes to worst. It would start at 9 pm until 6 am the following day, and there was a designated uniform of it too. Blue blazer with matching trousers, white dress top, and loafers.

Aside from the typical museum etiquette the head director instructed him about, there was an unofficial list of tips written on paper given from the night guard on leave when the director handed you over his box of office-related things.

Only read at the night guard office once you’re the remaining staff left.

He did as he was told like an obedient son, flipping the succeeding page.

To my temporary replacement,

This part-timing job is nothing regular than the other jobs. You’ll witness things as you’ve never imagined them to be, almost like witchcraft. You’ll be lost and maybe frightened, or that’s how I felt the first time because no one led me through it all those years ago. Lucky for you, I made this small guide on how to properly take care of the place that the other staff doesn’t know about.

Before you proceed, I request you take a 5-minute stroll around the lobby first to understand what I’m talking about. After such, go back to the office or somewhere quiet then browse through the guide as quickly as you could.

Art is timeless here, so they need to be taken care of.

Good luck!

Park Sanghoon

Night Guard on Leave

Nothing could’ve prepared Jeno for what’s to come once he unlocked the office door. They say that art brings so much color to our life, allowing us to feel all sorts of emotions in a glimpse. But no one ever interpreted art to be literally alive and walking in the halls.

Behold, random wax figures and marble sculptures that he’s seen in the past roamed the hallways, as well as the paintings were interacting with each other side by side. Even the standee of a puppy from the entrance played fetch with one of those sculptures. He swore he looked like Hermes the messenger god from his arrow headpiece and sandals.

It made more sense why the guard on leave explained his feelings during the first day because it resembled Jeno’s. But unlike that guard, Jeno sucked it up. No one ever does well on the first day, even if others say otherwise. The first day was a learning experience, so he collected his thoughts even though the goosebumps triggered his body during that one rotation.

There was an indoor garden, already locked by the day guard earlier. The only room without any art piece, where students lounge to study the plants or relax in nature.

The sculptures section ahead, showcasing various fictional figures specifically from Greek mythology, chattered away about family drama and beliefs. The sculptures of Hades and Zeus, according to their title plate, argued relentlessly about power while Athena always intervened by shouting or even throwing arrows or daggers to any of the lightbulbs there.

That was one rule in the guide, but Jeno didn’t know yet until he came inside the room and swerved the attention of the arguing duo.

“Well, what do we have here?” Zeus, in the center, straightened his posture on his throne to present himself in a more regal way. “Are you perhaps the temporary replacement of Sir Sanghoon?”

“Sir Sanghoon’s stand-in is rather good looking, don’t you think?” Hera mused, stepping down from her throne beside Zeus to take a closer look at the taller male. Her cold fingers trailed his jaw until his chest, where his heart was beating intensely. She even pinched his toned bicep, mouthing wow.

“Truly handsome you are, my dear. So full of life, please introduce yourself to us.”

While Jeno introduced himself to everyone in that room, he answered any sorts of questions they had for him too. From his age, educational background, hobbies, Aphrodite just had to ask him if he had a girlfriend because he was that handsome.

“Nope, I’m single. With my degree in architecture, the requirements are so heavy I can’t even try dating.”

Mentioning his degree excited the gods, telling him how their people created and designed all these temples to house them and perform rituals. They loved it so much. This was a copy-paste of what Jeno learned from his history classes, and for a first, he’s hearing the perspective of the Greek gods.

Mind-boggling that he hasn’t fully freaked out yet. That’s what Athena anticipated when Sanghoon told her about his short leave, putting her in charge of everyone for the meantime while the replacement settled down.

The college museum was built during the late 70s as a gift from one of the alumni. It was for the purpose to preserve history and educate college students outside the classroom. The Greek mythology exhibit was the oldest one, making Athena have more seniority. Over her stay, she’s seen every new guard lose their senses during the first night. Some not even returning for a second night. She got used to every outcome, and so far, only 8 people lasted after the first night. A couple of students in the 70s and 80s, Sanghoon in the 90s, and now Jeno was one of them.

“Jeno, aren’t you terrified by us? You just got a job in a museum that comes to life every night, and it’s not a normal thing.”

“Well, I’m still shaken up about it. But it’s my first night, and it’s when I learn everything about the place from head to toe. Plus, I really need the money.”

“Money for what? But you’re young, a student even!”

“Yes, I am. However, I do pay for the rent in my dorm. So, this job is like my first big responsibility, and I want to perform well.”

Athena commended his sense of authority, capable of leading himself. She noticed how well-spoken and poised he is, respecting and listening to everything the gods and goddesses said even if they were nonsense. She never liked to compromise with her power, taking a while to like Sanghoon back in the day. Though Jeno looked like a natural leader on his first night. If he could take care of himself well, he’s skilled to take care of the rest in the museum as well.

Plus she had full control on the nights he won’t be there, especially the weekend.

With his potential, Athena mentored him the entire night about the gist of the entire museum. Every upcoming leader needs an intelligent mentor, right? She was naturally gifted with worthy leadership skills, managing Jeno like her own child.

Athena explained how the museum came to life, which was through a royal golden plate from the Oriental room. It was a gift from a popular sorceress in China to an affluent family from the Han dynasty, who wished them a long life after she was saved from invaders due to them. The plate preserved over time, becoming an artifact. Its power remained immortal, mutating to bring life wherever it goes. In this case, the museum since its arrival in the late 70s as well.

“That’s why the Oriental room must be locked always so no one could touch or break the plate.”

After she ordered Jeno to lock the mentioned room, alongside the Foreign Art Exhibit Room which he checked out for his class, she led him to the best view of the entire museum. Center of the second floor, where stairs were on both sides. Jeno marveled at the vivacious atmosphere, witnessing actual art living, breathing, and enjoying themselves.

“Unreal, right?” She leaned in the railing, scanning through the chatty paintings.

Jeno also leaned down, deep in thought and wonder. “Absolutely, Athena. How come no one knows about this? Art coming to life? It’ll invite more students to the museum.”

“That goes against a golden rule as a night guard in this museum.” She replied bluntly. “The life that goes on inside this museum at night must remain a secret to the public.”

Jeno predicted this kind of response, having watched too many films where anything supernatural mustn’t be revealed. Although he liked the advantage of knowing something this powerful, he’d never abuse it.

Athena’s intellect was beyond the world, seamlessly reading Jeno’s expression and what he was thinking. He had good intentions even if he’s a bit mischievous. She needed to keep a keen eye on him, but for now, he needed to explore on his own.

“Anyways, Sanghoon still left out some other details. So if you have any questions, I’ll be at my exhibit trying to shut my father and my uncle up again.”

“Can you not use any weapons to do so?”

“Can’t make any promises, Jeno.” She slyly cracked her knuckles and neck as if she was fighting another battle.

Jeno was silently left with himself, finally browsing through Sanghoon’s guide while seated in one of the museum benches.

It consisted of 25 rules, wherein the first two rules consisted of locking up. One, for the doors and gates of the museum, so no art piece could escape. If they do, they will turn into dust when the sun is out according to Athena. Two, locking the Oriental and Foreign Art Rooms, which was already done.

Rule #5: Let Mochi the puppy from the lobby tag along with you; feed him treats if you have any.

On cue, the little guy barked from the corridor and raced to his side. Jeno carried him, babying him for a little and letting him lick his face a few times before putting him back down. He’s surely going to the pet store first thing in the morning with the museum allowance the director gave him.

Since he was on the second floor, he read and followed the rules that fit in before returning downstairs. On the other side of the floor were the wax figures exhibitions: one for prominent men in history while the other for prominent women. Well, more people to get acquainted with.

It’s the exchange of gasps and profanities he received when he chose the latter room. Seeing their faces, these were women he’s learned in school and online. Now in the (fake) flesh. Except for one girl he’s never heard of, unbothered in her corner sketching her life away in a sketchpad. But before he could check who she was, a suggestive touch on his arm distracted him.

“My, oh my, Hera wasn’t lying when she said that the new night guard was a fine specimen.” By her dark blue eyeshadow and eyeliner with the snake-like crown, Cleopatra studied him like he was one of the most renowned art pieces. Even patting his chest, abdomen, and arms with both her hand, Jeno caught a suggestive glint in her eyes and a smirk across her red lips.

Rule #13: Reject Cleopatra’s seductive advances at all costs.

“Goodness, Cleopatra. It’s only his first night, and you’re scaring him.” With her accent, round eyes, and a chic formal outfit, she carried a posh aura while unhesitatingly scolding the Queen of the Nile.

“Come on now, Diana. He’s stunning, who wouldn’t go after him?” If no one knew her, you’re not reading up on your world history. She’s said to have been a lovely and intelligent woman, gone so soon. Jeno definitely understood why after she detached Cleopatra’s raging hands off him.

Rule #14: Treat Princess Diana and Hera like your own parent.

“Your highness.” Jeno nodded at her out of respect, only making her chuckle uncontrollably.

“No need to address me like that, love. Now, come here.” She widened her arms for Jeno, hugging him amiably. He sensed her motherly warmth, accepting such a gesture. “You remind me so much of my youngest son, Harry. Welcome to the night shift of the museum, love.”

Similar to the Greek mythology exhibit, he introduced himself and responded to any questions that the women wax figures may have. Good for him, they weren’t crossing any borders and kept him at ease.

“A student like you working at night to pay rent?” Katherine Johnson, an African-American NASA mathematician whose calculations led to the success of a lot of famous spaceflights, cannot believe her ears. Students must only focus on school, nothing else. “What about your studies, boy?”

Rule #15: Engage in academic discussions with Katherine Johnson whenever you can.

“Most of my classes are in the afternoon, Miss Katherine. So I’ll sleep in the entire morning later and study during my breaks.”

“Mr. Jeno, what do you like to do outside of work?” Anne Frank, a German-Dutch teenager whose revolutionary diary that documented her life in hiding from the Nazis gained popularity worldwide after publication dreamily asked from her section of the exhibit. Her life was robbed of greatness merely because of her religion and war.

Rule #16: Bring delicious food or gifts to Anne Frank.

“Well, I like to bike with my friends, exercise, and draw whatever comes into mind!”

Everyone he’s met so far acquired pleasure in knowing about who he was and his passion for architecture, ridding the “freaking out” phase Athena assumed he had. Yet not everyone in this exhibit bothered to give him a shot.

Jeno’s attention from Anne talking about her crush towards Peter van Daan, a teenage boy who lived with her, switched to the section beside her, where an unacquainted figure was zealously sketching as if something was due to the following day. It reflected how he’d look when he’s cramming one of his plates due to first thing in the morning. While he properly excused himself, he quietly gazed at the way this woman scrunched her eyebrows when she erased something then drew it again. She was someone he’s never seen or heard before, reading the information plate in front of him about her.

(Y/N) (Y/L/N), Explorer and Author. (1854-1900)

Wealthy women in the Victorian Era only served one purpose in society: marry a man from a prestigious family, have his children and join whatever interests they have. However, for (Y/N), she wasn’t going to conform to those standards.

Born into the affluent house of (Y/L/N), she was the youngest of 8 children. She was said to be the kindest and sweetest sibling out of everyone, not capable of hurting anyone or anything. She said it herself that she can’t throw away a dying flower because it’s too painful. While 5 of her older brothers were sent to school, she stayed at home with her 2 older sisters Cecilia and Amelia where she learned how to play the piano and take voice lessons from impressive teachers. Due to the huge age gaps between them (12 and 8 respectively), she never felt close with them. She was only closest to the 6th and 7th siblings, her twin brothers Benjamin and Liam whom she only had a 2-year gap. She was also best friends with one of the scullery maids her age, Lily, because she found her amusing that than the boring rich girls her mother forced to interact with.

The moment it bothered her that she wanted to live a more meaningful life was when Amelia got married. She was 12 years old at the time, and it left her as the last unwed daughter in the family. Badly did she want to revolt, which she gradually did. Instead of practicing piano, she’d sneak in to read every book in her father’s office. She secretly studied the notes of her older brothers from school and even dressed as a boy numerously thanks to Benjamin and Liam to join their classes or field trips.

This was her routine up until the age of 18 when she stomped her foot down and expressed to her parents that she wasn’t going to let Victorian society dictate her. The night before her parents were bound to send her to her great aunt’s home down South to sort her out, she successfully snuck out her house thanks to Lily, Benjamin, and Liam. It’s another good thing that she saved a lot of money for that moment.

Off she went across Europe first, then sailed to America and even parts of Asia. Initially under the name Lilibe, coined from picking the first two letters of her brothers and best friend, she documented her days and nights through her journals and sketches. Over time, she sent them to her brothers for publication. It started the franchise, “The Adventures of the Young and Free Lilibe”. There are 10 books under it.

She learned French, Spanish, Mandarin, Japanese, and Korean by herself as she made friends from those places. It was rare of someone like her to be fluent in Oriental languages, surprising locals every time she spoke to them. She was the only explorer to vividly describe life in different Asian lands in English, talking about their history and culture. With her accurate drawings of diverse citizens and their daily lives, it educated a lot of those living back home in Europe about them rather than speaking lowly of them.

In Seoul did she stayed the longest until her death from pneumonia at the young age of 46.

In her posthumous work, Finding Me, did she reveal her real identity, dedicating it to her parents whom she apologized and expressed her love for them despite everything that occurred between them. She talked about the last years of her life in Seoul, how locals were so nice and inviting to her, and how she adopted kids instead of having her own through the years.

“It’s not because I never found love in men. It’s more like I found love in doing things I’m passionate about. Traveling, learning new cultures, it outweighed the human need of romance.”

Due to her thrill in taking risks and embarking on wondrous adventures, it brought inspiration to a lot of young girls pressured to marry at that time to pursue what they really want.

A remarkable background you had, Jeno contemplated. How come no one discussed her in his classes?

You kept brushing the bangs of your hair back as it fell repeatedly. But you got irritated instantly because it sabotaged your drive, you brought out a hairpin from her desk and attached it on both sides. But when you shifted your angle of focus, the corner of your eye locked with Jeno’s attentive gaze.

He didn’t flinch, even he should’ve. He wasn’t one to linger his look on anyone’s physical appearances, but your story and the passion on your face as you sketched mesmerized him. He was charmed, to say the least.

“Uhm, hello there?” You broke the silence due to your uneasiness about it. What’s his deal?

Jeno bowed, reintroducing himself to you. As soon as his presence settled in the room when Cleopatra attempted to hit on him, you could’ve cared less. Though this man was a first for you, a first in a long time as all guards would feel intimidated by you during the first night. Even your sharp tongue didn’t faze him. “Staring is rude, sir. Didn’t your mother teach you manners?”

“She did,” He wandered through the exterior of your section, by the fence that separated you and him. Not breaking eye contact, his eyes turned into moon crescents as he smirked with trouble. “Though she also told me to appreciate the art too.”

Snorts noisily exhaled from Cleopatra, who took the center section of the exhibit, succeeded by Princess Diana’s whispered gasps and Katherine’s side-eyeing Anne beside her while she taught her math. That was an odd way a guard conversed with you, but Jeno was merely doing what the rules stated. Partly, he was impressed with his cheesy pick-up line, partly embarrassed because he’s never spoken like this to anyone.

Rule #17: Act playfully around (Y/N) (Y/L/N) to break the tension; she’s a harsh one.

There was irony between the information he read about your life versus the wax model. Even when you faced sexism and ran away according to your history, never were you impolite to anyone in your life. You couldn’t even kill a lurking fly when it roams around your food! It showed Jeno a possibility that as much as you’re just a wax version of someone famous in the past, maybe the external environment around you had a heavy influence too.

“You fool!” His confidence exasperated you, urging you to persistently throw balls of paper with your failed sketches at him. No one dared to talk to you like that, most especially a night guard. “Take that for your comment!”

If you thought he’d scram away and act repentant, you were proven wrong. His reflexes were parallel to a spider, capturing every single paper ball without fail. Up and down his body went, one arm held on to them and no more were left on your part. Never a single defeat during the first meeting in years, but that seemed to alter now.

“Give up already, Ms. (Y/L/N)?” Jeno remarked vibrantly as he discarded your mess in the trash bin behind him. If he managed to get everyone to like him tonight, he wanted to make sure to have you onboard too.

Whatever agenda he had, you weren’t up for it. You’d treat him the same way you usually treated Sanghoon for the past 20 something years: cold and ignorant. From your stool, you left your comfortable position to come face to face with this man. He better be grateful for that barrier in between you, or else you would’ve caused mayhem.

“Never in your wildest dreams, Mr. Lee.” Your mouth gave a half-smile, clenching on the bars to liberate your annoyance. Before you could fend back, that’s when Princess Diana intervened between your heated dialogue.

“Oh heavens, children!” She stood by the barrier, mostly to protect the newbie Jeno with her body. “(Y/N), he just wanted to know you. Must you be so cross?”

This Princess Diana embodied all the traits the real one had: soft-spoken, intelligent, and protective. She’s gotten so used to your gradual temper, staying on standby whenever anyone tried to mess with you. Even if it was harmless, you could get so mean!

“Diana, he was mocking me! Saying such a sleazy phrase as if to amuse me, ha! Not a chance, I hate people like that.”

“Not us women though; you just despise men in general.”

“And you’re absolutely right!” With a smug smile, you greedily rejoiced. “Anyways, escort this disgrace out. I’m not in the mood to get angry when I have a lot of inspiration on mind right now.”

While you resumed your sketching to let go of that extra steam, Jeno was left with Diana who apologized on your behalf. Your pride was too high to do that, and as the motherly figure among them, she always took care of things in your exhibit.

“I’m so sorry for that, Jeno. She’s not really like this, but I know how much you tried your best. It was quite a fresh spectacle honestly.”

Whatever was responsible for your abrasiveness, Jeno yearned to know. He couldn’t understand who you were yet even knowing your life story. All he wanted was to get along with everyone. It was the key to successfully maintain his job for the next 6 months.

“How can I make her come around then?”

A demanding question that no one had a solid answer to. Diana recalled how much Sanghoon didn’t let your dislike for him get to him, maintaining a respectful boundary in between each other after his past attempts. Though with Jeno, observing how he riled you up and your focus entirely on him, she hasn’t seen anything like it since the 80s.

There was something in Jeno that may just get you to warm up and return to your kind nature.

“Aside from acting playful, as Sanghoon recommended, I can think of two ways, love.” By the doors of her exhibit, where Jeno was already waltzing the corridor to visit other rooms, she suggested smartly. “One, argue back to her opinions. She hates whenever anyone tries to get her way, but boy, you’re just as wise as her. No one was brave enough to peeve on her until you came.”

“How about the second way?”

“Do your research, love. Aside from libraries, you have those small technology devices that allow you to search up anything.” She tousled Jeno’s brown locks as if it were her actual son’s. Some habits just don’t die when you do.

“Brush up on your history, Jeno. Not only will it help you with (Y/N), but it’ll serve purposefully with the other art pieces here.”

Boy, he was ready to crash in his bed for a few hours after all those interactions. His introverted nature required to be revitalized.

Towards the last hours of his shift, the art pieces who’ve strolled in the first floor lessened his plate by not leaving any major clutter behind. As if she listened to him, Athena didn’t break any lightbulbs too.

His main highlight would be meeting the men of the historical male section, who flaunted a more humorous ambiance. Freddie Mercury from Queen insisted he drink a glass of his wine and to bring more wine next time, which he denied since it would against Sanghoon’s rules. King Sejong the Great and Martin Luther King Jr. argued back and forth over the most random things (pineapple on pizza specifically), while Steve Jobs mediated whenever one crossed the line. Meanwhile, William Shakespeare was too preoccupied in his writing and speaking to himself about his books, wondering how to improve them.

During one of his breaks today, he multitasked drawing a new plate with his research on every art piece to know them better. He started with the exhibit of sculptures of the Greek gods and goddesses, which were Zeus, Hera, Hades, Athena, Hermes, Aphrodite, Poseidon, Artemis, Dionysus, and Circe. They weren’t the complete roster because the rest were in other museums across the globe, as said by Athena before sunrise. The majority of them he knew what they were in charge of, but the rest were foggy to his knowledge. Typing away and jotting notes down, he started downloading his favorite jazz songs too.

Rule # 4: Play jazz music to the paintings on the first floor so they can relax and dance within their frames.

Circe is a minor goddess, the daughter of the sun god Helios. She’s recognized for her versatility in incantations and herbs, capable of transforming people into animals. From Jeno’s perspective, she’s mostly within her space with her journals and magic wand, trying new spells or combinations of herbs. For the latter, he had to keep a closer eye on.

Rule #9: Don’t let Circe, god of potions, into the Oriental Room to get plants and herbs.

He discovered that Dionysus is the god of wine, happiness, and theatre. That’s why every god in the exhibit had full wine glasses during their gathering. It also added up why Freddie Mercury always comes to him when his bottles run empty, though he mustn’t go overboard.

Rule #18: Make sure Freddie Mercury doesn’t get too drunk from the wine of Dionysus; he might make numerous scenes if he does.

After his lone studying session, he took a short trip to the pet and convenience stores to buy food. He got a dumbfounded look from Jaemin back in the dorm room, who was studying for one of his quizzes in Biology in a couple of hours.

“Woah what’s with this stash? Is it for yourself or something?”

“The museum surprisingly has a lot of tasks needed to be done at night. And no, not from my wallet but the allowance they gave me before you get a heart attack.” Jeno plopped on his solo bed, covering his face with a pillow.

“Thank God.” A relaxed sigh escaped Jaemin’s lips, taking back his balled-up fists meant for his roommate. “I think I would’ve stormed that boring museum if they made your broke ass spend a cent.”

“Boring?” Jeno removed the cushion hastily, eyeing his busy and coffee-high roommate. The scent of black coffee from his mug spread in the room, assuming that this upcoming test was testing his roommate’s patience again.

Not even trying to look at Jeno while reviewing his handwritten notes, Jaemin continued giving his opinion. “Museum culture is dead, Jeno. Not everyone has the time to roam around one, plus people can always look up the artifacts online these days.”

People were entitled to their own opinions on numerous things, though Jeno begged to differ with his roommate’s. Especially after witnessing the magic of the night shift, you shouldn’t merely judge a book by its cover. In this case, you shouldn’t judge an artwork or art piece merely on its history and legacy.

Maybe because his roommate was in the science department, he thought this way. A lot of art students regularly visit the museum both for fun and for their classes, and Jeno was one of them. Though he was too sleepy to explain his side, he let it slide for now and snoozed throughout the late afternoon.

An hour before the start of his shift, Jeno promenaded the emptying museum to inspect anything else he might’ve missed out on from last night. There were two areas according to his rotation, both in the first floor.

One was the Diorama Room. Divided into 4 sections, highlighting some of the well-known ancient civilizations in world history. Ancient Egypt and Ancient China to your left, Ancient Rome and Ancient Maya to your right. They acted as if they were the actual people during those times, giving Jeno a laugh when they cracked jokes in between. Such tiny figures, yet the rule for them said otherwise.

Rule # 7: The small figurines in the Diorama Room are feisty, so make sure they don’t fight with one another again.

The remaining room left was the Theater Room. He’s never been here, though his art friends have for film festivals held by the university.

The interior of it was set to look like an actual cinema place you’d see in a mall. There was a mini lobby with a few posters of iconic films over the years. Singin’ in the Rain, Back to the Future, Titanic, those were some framed and hung on the wall. There were two other doors there: one leading to the chairs and the other where the movie projector was. The latter room was pretty riveting, wherein you can choose to watch old short films through an 88mm film projector or switch to a cd player for the newer releases.

Back to those posters, they weren’t an exception to the magic and a simple rule was left for Jeno to do.

Rule # 10: Chatter with the movie posters in the lobby of the Theater Room; they love meeting new faces.

Since there wasn’t anyone checking out the Art Rooms on the second floor, he closed them. Though as he was about to lock the Oriental Room, the ravishing plants around the royal plant appealed his interest. Said to hold magical properties from his research, Jeno was reminded of another rule to keep in mind for later.

Rule # 3: The fake flowers in the Oriental Room come to life too at night, so when no one is lurking, water it diligently.

Instead of lounging at Sanghoon’s office first, he brought his important items to the front desk of the lobby and continued sketching his plate. He wanted to watch the art come back alive with his two eyes. Usually, he’d have coffee when he does his work, but due to another crucial rule in the guide, he’d rather not take the risk.

Rule # 6: The lobby room can get rowdy, so keep any drinks away from important items.

On the dot, the cries and yawns from the art pieces around him reverberated. Closing his sketchpad, his night guard mode was on. Connecting his laptop on the aux cord of the museum speakers, he tapped play on his playlist of jazz music that’ll last for the entire shift duration. As the first notes flooded the entire vicinity, sounds of joy left the lips of each painting. Some were humming, dancing, and even singing along.

“You can never go wrong with Frank Sinatra!”

“This Jeno lad really did the heavens’ work quick!”

Having the sense of accomplishment on his sleeve, the small barks of his fluffy pal reached closer to him. As he kneeled to find him, he was only taken by surprise as Mochi excitedly jumped on him. Tumbling over, Jeno chuckled innocently as Mochi licked his face numerously. This puppy was friendly, easily liking everyone at first sight. He wasn’t as choosy like Daegal, the puppy of his friend Chenle studying Business Management.

Once he composed himself and cradling the dog like his own, he fed him a dog treat from the desk.

“Good boy, Mochi!” He rubbed his fur while the puppy happily munched on it, ready to fulfill more of his duties.

He skipped the Greek mythology exhibit since Athena was doing a good job not letting anyone go overboard with their powers, though he’ll check in again in a few hours. He met the posters of the theater room, who were celebrities he grew up watching on tv. Sanghoon was right; they were the kinder group in the entire museum because they were more laidback.

On to the second floor, all the female wax figures lounged by the male section due to another lecture from Shakespeare. Although the guide informed him that most of the time it could get boring, this lecture was more stimulating. On his platform, he elaborated with conviction the lines of one of his famous books, Romeo and Juliet. A must-read book back in his high school days, there’s no way Jeno could’ve missed that out.

From the looks of it, Jeno perceived that Shakespeare was performing spoken word poetry due to him reading only Romeo’s lines while Cleopatra read Juliet’s beside him. This kind of show was one of the sources of entertainment to these figures, so Jeno leaned by the side of the door to listen. After all, the famous author of it was a few feet away. Cleopatra channeled such a naïve character to her ability, absentmindedly saying as she clutched her chest.

“O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name; Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, And I'll no longer be a Capulet.”

“Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?”

“'Tis but thy name that is my enemy; Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot, nor arm, nor face, nor any other part belonging to a man. O, be some other name! What's in a name? That which we call a rose-”

The flow of an engaged Cleopatra was abrupted by the loud yell from Shakespeare in front, specifically to an amused Jeno. “Jeno, my boy! Welcome back!”

Such an announcement diverted everyone’s attention to the back, some running to Jeno to give their respective greetings. It’s rare for everyone to feel at ease with a new guard, taking them weeks to approach them due to the intimidation. Though Jeno’s bright presence felt welcoming, so they accepted it. Perhaps it’s because of his youth, it reminded them of theirs too.

Shakespeare highly requested (or forced) Jeno to take his part as Romeo, intrigued to watch someone younger read his lines. Since most of the male wax figures were aged, it never satisfied Shakespeare so he jumped on this opportunity as quickly as he could. With the roaring cheers from the other figures, Jeno might as well give it a try. It wasn’t like his friends were here to clown him like they usually would if he did something humiliating.

Jeno shockingly liked this activity as he wasn’t much of a performer on stage, but someone who does the behind-the-scenes of it. He realized as he read the lines from the book Shakespeare asked him to follow along with why people held university-wide spoken word shows a few times per semester. He was no actor, but it’s delightful to have tried it at least once in his life.

“O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?” As if the edge of the platform was the balcony of Juliet (or Cleopatra rather), he knelt as he ardently spoke his lines. He’s emphasizing this rush of uncontrollable desire for her, rambling whatever he would do to get the girl.

“What satisfaction canst thou have tonight?” Cleopatra questioned from her chair, inching closer to the young boy. Even outside character will she attempt to charm Jeno, but Jeno was quick to catch it and kept his distance.

“The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine.”

“I gave thee mine before thou didst request it, and yet I would it were to give again.”

“Wouldst thou withdraw it? For what purpose, love?”

“But to be frank, and give it thee again. And yet I wish but for the thing I have. My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep. The more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite.”

Everyone was condensed by their top-notch acting, as if this was the actual play unfolding before them. Jeno wasn’t so sure how he got himself in character without preparation, yet he felt what his character felt. He comprehended the material a lot better now than when he was still in high school.

However, there was always that one killjoy to ruin the heartfelt mood.

“How dumb is it to say that you’re in love after the first glance?” You opposed, putting the spotlight on you. This book was said to be a classic in literature, but as you matured physically and mentally, you could no longer agree with it. “Isn’t love the same thing that killed Romeo and Juliet in the end?”

Remembering what Princess Diana told him, he wasn’t going to let this pass. He wanted to give a piece of his mind too, caring less if the show must be paused. “Love is an emotion we don’t ask to feel. It’ll come to us when we least expect it, even when the timing of it can be crucial.”

“Of all the people Juliet could’ve gone for, it just had to be the enemy.” In all the years you’ve been brought to life, no one dared to test your opinions because they were aware of your intelligence, from the streets to the books. When someone bark, you’d bite back. Hard. “With all due respect, I love your works, Shakespeare. Yet the fate you’ve given these two at a young age was grave, could’ve you given them a better outcome or another character to love instead?”

“Giving them extra characters to love won’t address the horrific life fact that love can be dangerous. Regardless of what status you’re in, you can’t stop the attraction towards someone. The heart wants what it wants.” Jeno pressed his hand to his chest, pumping it a bit. Unknown to you and him, the audience found more entertainment in your argument. Anne, who was munching on the popcorn Jeno gave her earlier, passed the snack to Katherine who just couldn’t stop watching.

If this man wanted a challenge, you’re all ears. Who was he to compete with you? Was he not intelligent to know who you are?

“So are you insinuating that we just go with the flow? Be a slave to our emotions too and let them dictate our next motives?”

“Slave is such a strong word to use, (Y/N). But it’s not like we can’t choose who want to love because we actually can. In this case, Romeo chose Juliet and vice versa.”

“But what happens if the person you choose doesn’t choose you in return?”

“At least you tried your best, right? It’ll hurt like hell though, but it won’t last forever.” From his kneeling position, Jeno strutted his way with confidence. Trying not to let it mess with you, your extreme stare at him as if they’ll shoot lasers. Inches away from you, Jeno declared. “Love always has risks, that’s a given. Romeo and Juliet still tried and followed their hearts despite the downfall. But it was a needed downfall to get the message across.”

“No one would be that foolish to risk their lives for love though, right? Life is so precious, why would they do such a thing?”

“Even if they knew what their lives were without each other, they still preferred living a life where they were both in the picture. Therefore, they tried all they could that time because the regret of not doing anything at all carries a heavier burden.”

Whenever anyone argued with you, their debating points they spat back would further piss you off because most of the time, it never made sense. Back when this rude man told you to go home and be a wife in your earlier years of exploring, you civilly told him to fuck off, kicking his balls because he cornered you in an alley. For the first time, a man who tried to challenge you actually made sense. Was it because he lived in a modern time, where minds were more open? Because of the amount of sexism you faced in the past, you’ve turned a blind eye to the current period.

But your high pride maintained, not submitting into anything he said. “I still think it’s stupid to risk your life for love. There’s no such thing as having only one true love anyways, and you have to be alive to see it.”

“Fair point, but again, the feeling of regret and carrying it your entire life doesn’t fade easily. It’ll make you reflect on the what-ifs, and it’s heart-wrenching.” Jeno digressed, walking around you in circles. He’s intentionally trying to drive you mad, but he could care less. He wanted someone to put you in your place and open your mindset. “The question stands: would you rather try and go for it even knowing its risks or regret not even trying for the rest of your existence? Quite ironic for me to ask you that, don’t you think?”

Past the information board, Jeno researched more of your life history online. Your whole life was grounded on risks, from breaking the standards of your society, leaving your family and home country, to fending yourself from disrespectful men. Rather than living the original life expected from you, you chose not to because it didn’t make you happy. Such a risktaker he knew you are, but with the topic of love, he wondered why you were on a fence with it. Though some records stated you’ve had rendezvouses with a few men in your journeys, love was never in the equation. The single life was what you chose and you were more than satisfied, plus your adopted kids filled that supposed void anyways.

This man may have studied your history, but so much he still doesn’t know. Information that never made the books because you chose not to write or tell anyone about it. Aside from the discomfort growing in your chest, everyone else felt the awkward tension when you were lost for words.

Never been defeated in an argument, until tonight. Your mind lost its drive and willpower.

“Touché, Lee Jeno.” Indeed, his name you’re acquainted with. Numerously passed around in your exhibit, mostly from the lips of Cleopatra, who’d fantasize all the graphic things she would do to him. Too much information, least of your interest. “Please excuse me. I’d like to work on my sketches to ease my mind.”

As you quietly exited the room, an all too familiar sculpture leaned against the railings overseeing one side of the museum. Just like you, she hated accepting defeat or compromises. She always rooted for you to win. With a faint chuckle, “Facing a loss for the first time, I see.”

“Don’t even lecture me about it, Athena. I’m still fired up, and I need to relax.”

“Jeno is a different breed, isn’t he?” She stuck to your side, strolling wherever your feet led you.

“Different as in he’s a man? Yes. What else is there to it?”

“Men these days aren’t as trashy as those back in the day though. Shouldn’t you give him a chance?”

“Last time I did, it destroyed my heart. I’m not allowing myself to let men in even as a friend, Athena.”

She knew exactly what you were referring to, not touching on it further. No way will you let heartbreak or disappointment from men bother you. Even Sanghoon’s sweet company took a while to tolerate. You really needed to sketch this out on your pad right now, excusing yourself from Athena’s presence. Isolation wasn’t new to you; it’s what’s protecting your entire being. Immortal as you are, you had to recover from the past pain so the next decades won’t feel as brash.

You hoped to return to your old self when you were a fresh new figure in the 70s. So naïve, only proud of your accomplishments, and purely happy.

While Jeno continued to finish his scene in respect to Shakespeare, he received a standing ovation for his mini-show. Cleopatra didn’t expect such talent from him, growing fonder of the younger male. Whether she seduces him or not, he was never afraid to try new things and she liked that about him.

“Bravo, love!” Princess Diana praised, clapping at him.

Although Jeno appreciated all this positive attention, his thoughts bounced back to your and your stance on love. The debate earlier was just out of being playful, interested to hear your opinions. Though, he’s worried that he might’ve offended you. It may have been time to finally witness something like that, but then again, he was sure he touched something personal to you. No matter how you tried to fight it off, your eyes can’t lie. Staring down at him, there was pain beneath it. Your eyebrows scrunched to the center, thinking deeply yet remained utterly speechless.

A win he didn’t feel good about.

“It’s time she encountered something new in the years she’s been here. Give her some space tonight, then try again to reach out to her. Kindly this time; I’m not in the mood for another brawl that could end up like the Greek gods’ past fights downstairs.”

These clever words shared by Katherine loitered his mind for the rest of the night, eventually going back to finishing his current plate since everyone was behaving well. As great it is to get the approval of the majority, he tried brainstorming ways to make you like him too.

He understood the whole “men are trash” concept in today’s modern society, but if he could prove it wrong to at least one person, it would be you. Whatever is holding you back, he only hoped that you’d let it go. Questionably unsure as to why he was so persevering, he concluded that it was so he could perform his job better as the night guard. Set higher standards than Sanghoon even.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Weeks passed, and his attempts continued to be unsuccessful.

The capability for you to ignore his efforts remained strong, whether he was pestering you over small things or debating with you again about anything. Life, books, morals, the two of you always head butt each other. Anything good he did, you searched for a flaw in it. Whatever acts he’s tried and continued trying, not one flinch from you ever.

Even if that’s his state with you, his job no longer felt stressful nor strenuous. He’d try to sleep more on days he was off-duty. Although the fatigue of staying beyond his usual sleeping time was inevitable, he compromised to take a nap lasting an hour or two when the art pieces weren’t acting frisky.

Plus, there have been multiple times they adapted to any alterations so his physical well-being wouldn’t fall sick. Per order of Princess Diana and Hera, who by instinct became his motherly figures here, only wanting what’s best for the kids.

He became accustomed to everything that went on at night, discovering things on his own without Sanghoon’s guide. Anne talked about how much she missed biking in her neighborhood, so one night, Jeno snuck his bike inside and let her use it around the first floor. With proper monitoring so none of the paintings would be unbothered or pieces wouldn’t tumble.

Hermes the messenger god was fluent in every language possible, so every so often, Jeno would freely speak to him in Korean because sometimes he felt he could explode by the amount of English he used every night. Bilingual things, you know. He knew you were multilingual too, but for obvious reasons, he couldn’t converse with you.

Because Jeno was heavily favored, that should’ve been enough to push through his night shifts before the end of the semester. In addition to that, the hourly rate was above the average of whatever Jaemin or Renjun was earning. For the past 2 months, Jeno paid upfront first, even paying back all his debts. It almost made Renjun want to switch jobs with him.

“Trust me, Renjun. You don’t want it, being the lowkey scaredy cat you are.”

Work no longer felt like work, and that’s what everyone aspired to feel. Nevertheless, he tended to worry over you mid-shift, glancing at you from his side view. Sketching, reading, and writing were your default actions. No matter how many times he said to himself not to let your dislike for him affect him, it’d always backfire.

Why were you so cold?

What made you lose your fire from all the research he did about your lively personality?

When morning arrived and he gathered his stuff, you’d be the last thing he’ll check on. Frozen in your standing pose, smiling as you held a book and a pencil, he detected how fake it was. Bystanders would only assume your happiness was from your achievements, though Jeno’s gut firmly pried that something grand overpowered that happiness. And definitely, not in a good way.

Out of all the art pieces, he investigated on you the most. Skimming through every material in the library, endless searching on the net, even asking professors from the History department thanks to Renjun, he did whatever he could. People may already think he was obsessed with who you are, but only little did they know.

Another plate was done and submitted, and he promised himself to look you up one last time before surrendering. For someone who’s rarely given up on a challenge, this one was really out of his control. Maybe he should follow Sanghoon’s footsteps now.

You lived centuries before him, and there’s limited material of you left. Rather than learning of your adventures again, he dug through what things you liked over your life. Maybe by giving one of them, it’ll lessen the tension from a 100 to 99. Maybe you preferred gifts over words, he’ll never know until he tried.

Boom.

According to one of your journal entries, there’s a fond liking you’ve acquired for lavender roses from Benjamin and Liam when they visited you in Paris in secret because of how much you missed them. It went both ways, praying your family ties could be recovered.

It’s a good thing he needed to refill his stock of items for the art pieces so he could pass by the flower store a few blocks away from his dorm. That night, without further words, he graciously offered you a fresh lavender rose in between your new sketching session.

“I may not know exactly why you’re spiritless around me, but with this rose, I hope we could work something out.”

Your frigid face of disdain, keeping your chin high and squinting your eyes with judgment, began to crumble down. Of all things as a peace offering, he gave you that? Then again, it’s not like he knew that an item you liked so much became something you’ve grown to hate and why so. No history books could teach him that.

Vulnerability was a normal thing, yet feared by many. Once one uncovered your weak spot, they could harm you. You still couldn’t trust Jeno fully, not willing to show your helplessness nor were you ever going to tell him. Hidden from his knowledge, everyone else including Sanghoon were familiarized as to why this kind of flower tormented you.

You sprinted like thunder out the exhibit room to wherever it’s private to control your senses. You may not have a physical heart, but your emotions were just as actual as a human’s. You needed to regulate your panting breath. In the past decades, you’ve not shed a singular tear but the cycle broke when they streamed out your miserable eyes like a flowing river. Quiet sobs, an empty corner near the fire exit was where your wobbly legs faltered, the painful memories of the past replayed in your head. Once beautiful, but now an agonizing reminder of what could’ve been.

Katherine, Cleopatra, and Anne were swift on their feet to hunt you down, anxious of what you may do next. Seeing or the mention of these flowers still affected you despairingly. Sanghoon must’ve forgotten to write them down, or perhaps he didn’t know either about this fact during all the years he’s worked there.

It’s one of the biggest secrets of his museum. By the clueless face Jeno had with his eyebrows raised, mouth, and small eyes slightly open, he repeatedly asked what he did wrong and adding that he never meant to harm you. Indeed, they knew that yet what occurred involved a secret in the list of museum secrets. Confidential only between art pieces according to Athena, none of the male wax figures spoke a word, only pitying the boy.

“I wasn’t here yet that time, but they said that it was once beautiful, but now it’s a rough period.” With hesitation, Princess Diana chose to reveal it to rid Jeno’s misery. She didn’t mind having to argue about it with Athena later on, as this may further affect the two of you later on.

“A long time ago in the early ‘80s, there was a night guard around your age named Junmyeon. Also, a college student, trying to make ends meet. He did it for 3 years until he graduated. Though within his stay, not only was he such a delight to everyone, he broke a golden rule in the guide. I believe you do know the guide much more now, Jeno?”

“Yes, I do, Princess Diana. Memorized it even, but which one specifically?” Jeno’s desperate eyes pleaded, only hoping for the best and to fix what he messed up.

“You can form friendships with the art pieces, but nothing more.” Princess Diana replied bitterly. “Junmyeon was an aspiring painter, a different path from his business-oriented family. He was seen as the black sheep. She resonated with him, sharing the burden and lifting it by doing whatever fun they could in the museum. In time, they both fell in love with each other; they were each other’s first loves.”

“Why must something beautiful like love be broken? It’s not like you can control it. That golden rule makes no sense.”

“It does, unfortunately. Wax figures like me cannot age, while humans like you can. None of them could accept the reality, always pushing it away. Until Junmyeon’s last week in university, he broke it off with her unexpectedly. From there, (Y/N) was heartbroken for decades. With heartbreak, giving the cold shoulder and bitterness followed. Then with the lavender rose you gave that she used to love became a flower that she associated with Junmyeon too because he gave her one almost every night for those past 3 years.”

Things finally added up, and the guilt in Jeno’s gut expanded. His major lightbulb moment was a major failure.

“Has Junmyeon ever returned to try and win her back?”

“Well, there was one time he did come back for an art exhibition for his paintings in the 2000s. I was already here, then he had a woman around his shoulder with an adolescent boy holding his hand. He roamed around our exhibit and kept gawking at (Y/N). We may be asleep, but we remember the conversations exchanged in the room. So, his son then asked him if he knew who she was.”

“What did he respond?” Jeno attentively listened, on the edge of such a hurtful tale.

“He knew her name, praising her for historical achievements. However, nothing as a former friend or lover. From what I predict, he ingested one of Circe’s potions.”

“But I thought Circe isn’t allowed to make potions for actual consumption. She’s not even allowed to enter the Oriental Art Room.” Jeno pointed out, overwhelmed at the puzzling past. Princess Diana was mindful that she had to stop spreading too much information, so she had to end her discussion with the lost boy.

“There are a lot of secrets about this museum, Jeno. Unfortunately, I cannot reveal to you to protect our peace.”

With due respect, Jeno quit his follow-up questions and concerns. The only thing he wished to do was mend his relationship with you. As vague as to where you even stood in the first place, he unintentionally crossed a line due to his selfish intention to befriend you.

“What can I do now, Princess Diana? You know I’d never push her buttons like that, even if I’m a whimsical person.”

“Oh, my boy.” Princess Diana soothed, holding both her hand on his sweaty palm and cupping his cheek. “For the meantime, give her space. No taunting for a while, and just observe her from a distance. Though do not fret the slightest; I’m sure she’ll be okay again.”

During that interval, you were hunched on the wall, bawling and weeping like the wound was brand new again. While Katherine and Anne stood by your side, on the lookout for anyone who’d be spying on you, Cleopatra knelt in front of you as your infinite tears gushed down.

“My dear,” She tried to wipe some of them while holding your hand. “It’s been years, and Jeno didn’t know a single thing. He didn’t mean to do it.”

“I don’t care, Cleopatra! He should’ve stopped trying to socialize with me because I won’t ever live down my experience with Junmyeon.”

“As if crying like this will bring Junmyeon back to your life,” Cleopatra exclaimed, holding in her temper. Acquainted with heartbreak, it’s awful that it changed you entirely, but you should’ve found a way to heal. Throughout your attitude change, it’s mostly you in pain, not those you inflict it to. “My dear, I love you a lot. But this Jeno boy is different, and you know it.”

“He’s still a nightguard, for Christ’s sake, Cleopatra.”

“You shouldn’t generalize that all night guards are bad just because of one encounter that occurred at the wrong time.” Brushing some strands stuck by your wet visage, she professed to you bluntly. “You’re never going to know how good Jeno is unless you slowly open up again, (Y/N). Not forcing you the slightest, but healing started once you’ve acknowledged the past and move on from it.”

“But I’m scared, Cleopatra.” You restlessly admitted, hunching even more against the wall. Your poor, metaphorical heart could only take so much. You barely expressed sorrow towards others as you always held a strong exterior, only letting it out alone. Not holding back anymore, Cleopatra brought you in for a hug. The last time she did that was the first night after Junmyeon left, calming your intensified emotions so you wouldn’t do anything dumb that night. No violence, just pure sorrow.

“My dear, it’s alright.” She whispered while stroking your back upwards. “But you’re a risktaker; that’s how people remember you. Now, you must challenge yourself to move on from things that didn’t work out. Because once you do, it’ll put your heart and mind at ease.”

“Do you think I’ll be okay again?”

“Yes, you will be, my dear. You are not alone, and never will be.”

Acting like the dutiful son he always was, Jeno distanced from you.

He still cracked jokes, chatted with the art pieces, and followed the rules, yet never did he utter anything to you. You’ve proudly anticipated it since day one, not wanting him up in your business or teasing you ever. But this time, it felt odd.

On nights he didn’t report, you’ve unconsciously wondered what he may have been up to. A job like this at his age was just as Sanghoon once said: nothing in the regular.

Was he with his friends?

Was he resting well?

From the moment you chose to let go of your limitations and old thoughts, it included your grudge against past guards. Asking for forgiveness to Sanghoon when he returns was on the top of your list, however, that’ll take a while to happen. In the start, you’re baffled as to why he no longer picked on you like every night he’s been present. Somehow, it became a habit you’ve gotten used to, having so many comebacks planned to fend yourself. But you didn’t want to concede to it, maintaining what was left of your pride since that breakdown.

While on the subject, you suspected if anyone told him anything that night because that also indicated the last time he reached out to you. By anything, it would be your unwritten past with Junmyeon. A part of yourself in the museum that you didn’t want to disperse like rapid-fire again. It would be the last thing you wanted Jeno to know.

To your misfortune, Princess Diana came clean due to your growing concern over it. Although your attitude changed and people got used to it, you could only blame yourself that you were responsible for Jeno’s change.

“All he wanted was to understand and enlighten us with his likable presence. Then with you, you were his challenge because of your high walls. Out of everyone, he tried to learn everything about you. From my observation, whenever he has a goal, he’s determined to achieve it.”

“But I’m trying to be better now, Diana. Why did he stop?”

“He may have determination, but he knows where the boundaries lie.” Princess Diana patted the side of your arm, giving you a half-grin. “It hurt him when he hurt you, even if it was accidental. So he opted to give you space; that way, you could catch a breather and he wouldn’t harm you anymore. It was what you wanted from the start anyways, right?”

A hard pill to swallow, though it was a fact. It’s just that now, you’re slowly willing to release yourself from the dark. It’s been decades, and more to come. Nothing can move on unless you do.

“Where is he, Princess Diana?”

Just as she predicted right on the edge, Diana completed the grin on her face and led you to the entrance of your exhibit. She may be younger than you, but you’re reverted in your twenties while she remained in her mid-thirties. Gaping the wide museum from the railing, starting from the painting exhibit in the lobby to across the other side of the museum, Diana spotted the black hair of the boy in the Foreign Art Room.

“Over there.”

Observing where her eyes focused, you caught a glimpse of a recognizable side profile. The owner’s eyes were completely taken by whatever he was drawing on the fold-up desk he brought out from the storage room. By the tedious action of his right hand going up and down, you’ve gotten so used to his part-time identity as the night guard to entirely dismiss his current status as a university student.

Architecture specifically as he first introduced himself to you. The same path your oldest brother, Christopher, worked in. The look of tenacity Jeno presented as his eyebrows continuously scrunched, his crescent orbs hastily spied his work for any unnecessary details and his veiny hands brushed his already messy hair, you were profoundly reminded of Christopher when he was designing his possible future house. You were 8 years old, and he was 22, who just got married. He explained how many floors it’ll have, what rooms to put and what extra furniture he’ll place to make it feel more at home.

Seeing how exceptional his art skills were, you started to sketch like him. With flowers first, it turned into bedrooms and sceneries of your neighborhood. You felt your shoulders rise in accomplishment when you were able to accurately draw people. As much as you credited Benjamin and Liam the most in your works, it’ll only be within yourself to know that you also held a soft spot for Christopher.

Excusing yourself to Princess Diana, you bravely yet quietly ventured into the Foreign Art Room. Hiding first from one of the cement columns, you resumed watching him sketch. Instead of a pencil, he used a black pen with a tip as thin as a pencil. Your assumptions would be it was for a class, basing it on him informing everybody earlier that he’ll be inactive for the remaining hours of his shift to focus on his midterm requirements. That must be difficult to balance, yet he still does everything expected from him. Maybe the second cup of iced coffee beside him stimulated his bones and mind, letting his imagination free.

Through the limited space, you tiptoed whilst holding the side of the column to make up his work. There were 2 and a half rectangular shapes stacked on top of each other, the third one he was still tracing. A sign encrypted with tiny written words you couldn’t decipher, the beauty and modernity of Jeno’s plate cannot go unappreciated.

“That’s absolutely beautiful.”

Sweet words you didn’t think would bounce back in the room, Jeno’s pace ceased whilst you hid again. Art pieces capable of walking weren’t allowed here, he locked the door even beforehand! Or he thought as he was rushing to get his work done because one of his terror professors moved up the deadline to tomorrow morning. Not even 25% finished, he petitioned for everyone’s cooperation just for tonight.

He used up his 2 days of not having the night shift for other projects, and not wanting to ruin his perfect attendance, he proceeded to show up.

The voices from the foreign paintings around him hushed for him out of respect. So possibly someone snuck in, his head looking around for intruders. But only did he quit it when he saw your blurry reflection leaning against the column. The glass windows slightly mirror back what it sees, without you knowing that.

Not to mention, the small bit of your lilac dress was left out. Of all people, it was you?

“Do my eyes deceive me or is Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N) inside when she’s not allowed so?”

To break the killing tension, he tested the waves with an innocent taunt. Never did you reach out to him, so least to say he was entertained whilst keeping his distance.

Fixing your proud stance, you responded in a low baritone voice you used to persuade numerous men in her adventures. “Uhm no, I don’t know who she is.”

As intelligent as you were, Jeno was a few steps farther than you this time. Educated about the risky ways you’d get around and one of them was changing the pitch of your voice, he heartily laughed at your unsuccessful attempt.

“Okay don’t lie, (Y/N). I can see a trail of your dress and your cloak. Oh, your reflection too.”

Damn, you peeked a little to realize that he was correct. Hauling your dress back in to readjust your outfit, you pushed your hair back before appearing to him. Though when you did such, you didn’t suppose that he was practically beside you the entire time. Bumping into his towering stance of 5’10 while the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up, your proud posture loosened up. He even discarded his blazer. A few more inches, he could’ve cornered you on the column if you didn’t take another step back.

Has he always been this tall or were you so used to your boots having high heels under? Oh wait, maybe because you wore flats this time because it’s making your toes sore. Your head bowed from struggling to maintain eye contact with him, your palms caressing your cheeks that suddenly heated up. Clearing your throat, you straightened your back again like nothing happened.

Jeno thought otherwise, shrugging his shoulders as he chuckled. He’s never seen you get shy, not that it was a bad thing either. The temptation to play around it more was there, but he was running out of time for his assignment.

“Come in. I’ll let you off the hook this time.” His arms opened up, allowing you access to such a wonderful exhibit. Paintings from different European periods, miniature versions of famous infrastructures inside glass containers, and replicas of Greek columns in the front entrance, no wonder it’s important to protect them all.

“Are you sure?” Watching him return to his spot, which was a bench in the center of the exhibit with a table in front, it didn’t process that you were gawking at his toned back. His broad shoulders and the evident muscles in his arms while he stretched, your eyes were speedy to look away when he tried to take a glance at you.

“I don’t think the paintings here and I mind.” Sitting down again, he tapped the vacant space beside him. “Feel free to watch me draw if you want to.”

Settling by his side, he recommenced where he left off. Now with a closer view of his piece, it did look like a building as you thought. He was sketching the remaining outline of the 3rd floor of this hypothetical place, continuously checking his ruler to monitor if the lines were consistent. Able to pick up on the words of the sign beside the building, you wowed with one hand on your lips.

“You’re redrawing Seoul National University Museum of Art?”

“One of my plate assignments was to visualize a renovation of a certain place, so I chose the museum.”

“Why so?”

“Well,” Jeno shook his pen so the ink could come out. “This entire place comes to life with the royal plate, so I think we should expand the space and bring in more art pieces to life if we add another extra floor. A rooftop area for visitors and events would be fun. And definitely, we should modernize the exterior and interior a bit because it looks outdated personally. That’s also what my friends think too.”

Noticing the minor details of his plate whilst removing any unnecessary pens so it wouldn’t smudge, “Huh, I quite agree with you.”

For the first time since his night shift, you, (Y/N) (Y/L/N), came into an agreement with him. He became so accustomed to clashing opinions that now, you had no contrasting points to make at all. A good change perhaps was what he’s witnessing.

“Woah, who are you agreeing with me and where’s (Y/N)?” He creased his brows whilst locking eye contact with you. This time, you didn’t wince away and just nudged him on his shoulder to get back to work.

“Hush, Jeno. Isn’t that due later? Get to work, I’ll roam around here for the meantime.”

After decades in this museum, you’re enlightened with the foreign paintings in which some you’ve heard of in your younger years and some that were created beyond your time. The Birth of Venus, Liberty Leading the People, Girl with a Pearl Earring, there’s an advantage of learning about their stories that humans couldn’t interpret. Logical that this section must be off-limits because these pieces were extra special, yet there’s so much more than what meets the eye.

There’s peace in silence while you wandered around, though it doesn’t hinder only at the art. Jeno hasn’t uttered a word since he got back to drawing, and once you asked him what’s doing now, still no answer back. Odd, he’s constantly awa-

Oh, my. You must’ve jinxed it.

Your eyes laid on Jeno leaning forward on his desk with his arms serving as his pillow, resting his head sideways. Soft snores and minimal movement in his upper body to shake the growing cold temperature of the room, he was sleeping like a log.

Putting into perspective, he hasn’t acquired enough rest specifically this past 2 weeks. The endless number of plates due making him work extra during his shift rather than sleeping in the slightest, exhaustion must be an understatement. Coffee no longer pushed him to his maximum for this week even.

But this was the path he chose, and it’ll have its challenges. Still, if you could relieve the stress in any way, you would. This would be one of the ways to repay for all the rudeness you’ve passed on him. Scurrying to his side, placing the plate on the side with his other things. You returned the caps of his open pens so they don’t spill. They must be expensive, recalling how Jeno shared the cons of being an architecture major to Princess Diana. One was the pens needed for sketching, and any tiny damages to them meant buying them again.

With his watch on clear display, he only had 2 hours left until his shift was done. Then, 4 hours until his plate assignment was done, and his current plate was far from done.

The blunt impulse to wake him up slithered your mind, though his calm state deflected your duty. As if you were on board a ship again for your explorations, you paid attention to the view with a relaxed mindset.

Lee Jeno specifically was the view.

His coffee-stained lips were parted and his sharp nose breathing in and out at a relaxing pace, he must be dreaming a happy moment the way half his lips curved into a smile. If he’s resting well, then you too would be calm.

Because of your past disinterest in him, only at this moment did you observe how sharp his jawline was and the cuts on his arms he sought refuge in. No matter how many times you tried to deny Hera’s compliments of him on the side, you couldn’t.

Lee Jeno embodied attractive features; both physical and emotional.

Back to his plate, it’ll put him at a disadvantage if he submitted the way it looked before he passed out. But you remembered all those extra details he mentioned and wanted to add to this project. Being an explorer, you documented all your ventures through words or drawings. You’re fast to adjust to anything new too.

For all the good he’s done for everyone, he only deserved some help in return.

Your version of help was sketching the remaining details of this plate, using other pens for more emphasis. It’s a risk also, but no way could you turn a blind eye on Jeno this time.

Around 5:30 am, Jeno’s eyes blinked open due to a brightening light from the outside. Stretching his limbs, he finds a velvet cloak wrapped around him like a blanket. But before he could question it, he pulled his arm in to see the time on his watch.

“Fuck!” He cursed, realizing that his so-called 10-minute snooze break aborted.

“Oh my, you’re awake!” From his frazzled state, there you were. So put together yet active, some strands of your hair falling down your face even with your hair up in a ponytail. “How was your sleep?”

This whole time he could’ve been woken up, yet you chose not to. You’re aware of his deadline, yet you let him rest entirely. He could’ve burst out in stress, yet he didn’t. You and he may have started on the wrong foot, yet it’s impossible of you to do such an evil thing. He’ll just have to tolerate the outcome later today.

“Refreshing. I really needed it.” Packing his things in his bag and closing the table, you trailed along as he exited with you. Locking up, he has 30 minutes left to accomplish the cleaning. A long good morning indeed.

But his worry of that vanished when you admitted that you had it all covered.

“Everyone helped out in cleaning, plus there are no damages made either.” From your hand, you returned one of his keys that was on his guard blazer. “I double-checked the Oriental Room and locked the doors again.”

“Why are you suddenly so nice to me, (Y/N)?” He questioned with confusion, wearing his blazer again and patting away any creases. He placed your cloak over you again like a true gentleman.

Without a word, you simply invited him to walk you back to your exhibit as parts of the sun began to rise. As you returned to your section, your fellow figures readying themselves to pose again,

“It’s my way to apologize for my very rude first impression and the succeeding moments after. I was too cooped up in my past that I was too afraid to let humans in again, night guards in particular.” You admitted, removing your cloak and placing behind your chair like always. “I’m so sorry, Jeno. Everyone was right about you and your kind heart.”

“About time.” Cleopatra’s sultry voice cut in, laying on her day bed.

Before you had the chance to flip off, Jeno mediated swiftly. With a gentle smile, “No worries about it. I’m just happy you’re okay, after all you’ve been through.”

“Can we start over then?”

“Absolutely.” With his free hand, he brought it out. No matter what kind of introductions, shaking one’s hand was the best way to start a friendship. “Good evening. I’m Lee Jeno, the new museum night guard.”

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N), explorer and author.” Sighing at his humor, you still replied by shaking his hand. “And I believe you’re mistaken, Lee Jeno. It’s a good morning.”

Seconds after, you imitated your typical pose and smile. Only now, the latter was more genuine. Finally, a fresh start to end your agony.

Once the sun fully revealed itself, every figure including yourself froze back to sleep. Something Jeno wished to catch up on if it weren’t for his damn plate. He was so screwed, already contemplating his next steps if he does fail this class. The possibility of getting delayed in all aspects, he dreaded it already.

Heading back to his dorm, where both his roommates completely passed out from soju on the couch, he sat by his work desk and turned on his night lamp for more light since the sun wasn’t strong enough yet.

With another cup of coffee, he cracked the joints of his knuckles and laid out his pens. He had 2 hours left to submit this plate, and at most he should accomplish 50% of his initial plan. However, he didn’t anticipate such a gorgeous outcome when he brought out his plate.

Picture perfect of every detail he desired, even adding a rooftop area with that he’d love to have if ever the museum does go under renovation one day. Rather than setting the plate during the day, it was at night as the skies were dark and bright specks of yellow inside the building symbolized light.

So much for wasting coffee, he’ll just give it to Jaemin when he wakes up later. Below the final product, a note written in cursive was stuck on it.

I knew you wanted to get this specific plate done, but you mustn’t compromise your sleep for it. It’s your inhumane professor’s fault!

To make up for my faults, I wanted to help you out. I paid extra attention to the details you spoke highly about, so I only hoped that I interpreted it correctly. It’s risky, but as someone who researched so much about me, would you be surprised that I did such a thing?

PS: Get back to sleep. I’m quite sure your desk is laid out the same way in the Foreign Art Room.

Respectfully,

(Y/N)

Turning off his lamp, Jeno jumped the covers of his bed to continue his lost sleep. Without an ounce of care that he hasn’t changed into cleaner clothes, he’s relieved that he won’t flunk his class.

Most of all, he’s relieved that you’ve melted the ice in you and allowed kindness to come in. Jeno may never understand how hard that must’ve been for you, yet he raved you for it.

“Oh, (Y/N) (Y/L/N). Surprise is an understatement when it comes to you.”

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cevaannss · 3 years

Text

Just Friends (Reader x Chris Evans)

Pairing: Reader x Chris Evans

Prompt: “you say we are just friends, but friends don’t know the way you taste” but with a happy ending? - Anon

Warnings: R rating, Some sexual content/Smut, Minors DNI. Brief mentions of/allusions to anxiety.

Authors Notes: This is my first prompt fill on here in years, so I might be a little rusty any feedback is appreciated, please let me know if there’s anything I missed warning or tagging. I also didn’t intend for this to be so long but I got a little carried away with it.

When you and Chris first met, you had been young, wide eyed, fresh faced kids. He was barely 20, filming at your old high school, and you a member of the local theatre group were recruited as an extra. You had graduated a year prior and were coming to the end of your gap year, you would be going to college in a few short months. After seeing each other in passing on set, you and Chris had your first conversation in the kraft services trailer, both leaning in to grab the last remaining bagel. After a back and forth of “you take it” “no you” “seriously its okay” you agreed to split it and thus began your friendship.

It was weird, from that first day you had a connection like neither of you had experienced with anyone else. You talked daily, would be each other’s dates to your friends weddings, hung out with each other’s families without the other around. You were mistaken for boyfriend and girlfriend many times throughout your years of friendship but that was never what it was about. You’d both dated plenty, often times ending relationships because the person you were seeing couldn’t deal with your closeness to each other. But for you both that was just how it was, and if they couldn’t accept it then they weren’t worth your time. Maybe they were right, you had always had a crush on Chris, and you had a feeling it was reciprocated but you’d always had an understanding, a common ground that you were friends and that’s all you’d ever needed to be.

The first time you had edged into more than friends territory was on Chris’ 37th birthday. You had thrown him a party at his house and he had been a little, okay a lot drunk and while you weren’t far behind him you were still sober enough to take care of his messy ass. After everyone had left you had attempted to clean up a bit, collecting garbage and wiping down the kitchen, the whole time Chris was passed out on his couch. You had managed to wake him enough to get him up and into his bedroom, out of his jeans and shoes and into his bed. You bought him a glass of water and two Advil placing them on his beside table, him grabbing your wrist as you placed the water down, pulling you on top of him into a half hug as he tended to do when he was drunk. He’d always been touchy when he was drunk, letting his hands linger on you longer than normal but it had always been innocent. He mumbled something into your ear, something he’d said a million times, and you replied the same response you had given a million more. But what he said next had changed it all.

“No, not like that”

It stopped you in your tracks because what did he mean not like that. It had to be like that. It had always been like that. This wasn’t how this went. Not for the two of you. You weren’t “those” friends.

“Then like what” you had whispered, panic setting in, soberness hitting you like a Mack truck as you looked back at him. But of course he had fallen asleep again, dead to the world, arm wrapped around your waist as you perched on the edge of his bed. Silence filling the air except for the light snoring he was emitting.

The next morning you had been awoken by clattering coming from the kitchen. Stumbling out of the guest room you walked in to Chris attempting to make breakfast, standing in the door way you watched him, his eyes squinted and slow moving, lingering proof of his previous inebriation. He was making blueberry pancakes, it was a post birthday tradition, but you were usually the one who made them for him on the day after his birthday.

Seeing him standing there sliding another half burnt pancake onto the stack he had started made you smile, he tried bless him, but he was never great in the kitchen. The conversation from last night soon flooded your memory and you couldn’t stop yourself.

“What did you mean”

Chris looked up from pouring more batter into the pan, finally noticing your presence.

“Morning” he mumbled, clearly not fully awake yet “What do you mean, what did I mean?”

“Last night, in your room, you said you loved me...”

“I always say I love you?” He let out a low chuckle but looked confused, you weren’t sure if he really didn’t remember or if he was just pleading ignorance, usually you were quick to spot if he was lying but this time your radar couldn’t pin it. He turned his attention back to flipping the pancake in the pan.

“Yeah but when I said I love you too bestie... you said ‘No, not like that’ what did you mean?”

His head snapped up, redness filling his cheeks, and it was in that moment that you had known things were changing whether you had wanted them to or not.

“Oh” you said, your breath escaping you, as the realization hit.

“Yeah” he said eyes focused on the pancake burning in the pan.

“Chris...”

He pulled the pan off the stove dumping the last pancake on the plate before placing the pan in the sink letting the cold water run over it before turning back to face you.

“I don’t...what do you want me to say” He started, raising his voice slightly, obviously flustered. “You want me to say I was drunk and didn’t know what I was saying? Because I cant okay, I can’t say that. Would I have said it if I were sober? No, probably not...in fact definitely not. But I did and I can’t take it back or just pretend I didn’t because I do love you, I’ve always loved you”

“I’ve always loved you too Chris” you looked up, your eyes connecting with his blue ones.

“Yeah, but not in the same way” he stepped around the counter standing in front of you now, his frame towering over yours.

“Said who”

“What”

“Who said I don’t love you in the same way?”

Chris lunged forward, one hand grasping your waist, the other coming up to cup your face as he leant down, his lips pressing against yours gently. It took you a second to realize what was happening before your hands found their way around his neck pulling him down to you, deepening the kiss.

From that day onward you became the friends who make out occasionally, it wasn’t the right time for you to try and be anything more, yes you loved each other, more deeply than you first understood but your lives were all over the place, you were rarely in the same city for more than a few weeks at a time and Chris’ career was exploding more than ever. It wasn’t the right time. So you’d both take what you could get when you could get it and that was enough for either of you.

It wasn’t until Chris’ 38th birthday a year later that you let things go any further. He had wanted a small celebration, so you had gone to dinner with a few friends, had a few drinks and then headed back to his place to watch a movie. You had been cuddled up on the couch, passing a beer back and forth between you when he placed it down on the coffee table, his hand sliding down your thigh, before pulling you into his lap. You had placed your knees on either side of his thighs, your hands on his shoulders while his trailed down your sides and over your hips before slowly moving to cup your ass. You leant down to place a soft kiss on his lips, him reattaching them as soon as you pulled away, biting your lower lip roughly.

There was something different in the way he was kissing you, the way he was touching you, more heat, more passion. Your hands were running down his chest as his grip on your ass tightened, holding you close to him, the intensity taking over. Before you knew it your shirt was on the floor and his hands were sliding up your back as your lips found their way to his neck. There was a tenacity in every movement, every touch, every kiss. His hands finding the clasp of your bra, undoing it with ease and discarding it with your shirt on the floor. He pulled away slightly, his eyes raking over your body perched on top of him, eyes filled with need and want, pushing up to connect your lips once again as you could feel the hard length of his cock pressing against you through his jeans. His large hands sliding to your thighs before standing you both up, your legs wrapping around his waist, hands in his hair.

He stumbled his way into his bedroom laying you down on his bed placing a soft kiss to your lips before hurriedly kissing down the side of your neck and chest, between your breasts and down to your belly button stopping at the waist of your jean shorts, fingers dancing over the button as he looked up at you, eyes questioning as if to get the go ahead, you nodded gently. He slid your shorts and underwear down your thighs, discarding them and grabbing at the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head before sliding off his jeans and boxers. You let your eyes trail his body as he situated himself between your legs leaning down to kiss you again.

“Are we really gonna do this” he laughed as he tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

“I think so” you blushed, eyes meeting his once again, yours filled with anticipation, his with desire.

When you woke up the next morning, your head on his chest, his fingers running through your hair, you didn’t know how to feel, but you knew things were moving into a far more complicated territory.

The two of you went on this way for a while, hanging out with friends and family as if nothing had changed, but when it was just the two of you it was different, intimate. When you were away from each other you facetimed daily, you shared everything, you always had but now it felt like everything you were used to but magnified. When he was gone you missed him, when you were together you felt complete. It was so familiar but so new at the same time. At this point you were dating without the title, which had been fine with you both, you liked what you had together it was easy, simple, no pressure.

In early August you had moved in, the apartment you rented was being sold and Chris insisted it would be helping him, and besides he had said, you were there whenever he was anyway. You had your own room but it was rarely used, most nights falling asleep together in Chris’ bed, both finding you slept better when you were together. It was one of those nights, curled up in his bed, Dodger at your feet, watching a rerun of some sitcom when Chris had asked you if you would go to Toronto with him the next month, his latest film Knives Out was premiering at the film festival there and he had been equal parts excited and nervous about it. You had been taken aback at first, sure you’d visited him on set before and attended a few premieres but this felt different.

“You want me to?” You sat up turning to face him.

“Obviously” he laughed “I’d take you everywhere with me if I could”

“Aww cute” you chuckled pinching his cheek as he kissed the tip of your nose.

“I have press a lot of the time, but you could hang out do some sight seeing, then come to the premiere with me?”

“With you...or with you?”

“Whichever one means I get to have you beside me on the red carpet”

“I don’t know Chris...you know that will start a shit storm” you knew how bad the rumours that had started when fans spotted you just attending the premiere for the last Avengers movie had been, and while it really didn’t bother you, you didn’t want it to have an affect on his career.

“Honestly? I don’t care.”

“Okay” you knew he wouldn’t say it but you could tell from his face that he was feeling anxious about it “I’ll come with you, but if you decide any time that you’d rather walk the carpet alone thats okay”

“I won’t” he reassured you, placing a kiss to your temple.

The day of the premiere came around quickly, Chris had been doing press for the past couple of days and you had spent most of your time exploring the cities sights. Chris held true to his word and didn’t change his mind about you walking the carpet with him. He had been a ball of nervous energy since you had woken up, you had left him eating breakfast to go take a shower and start getting ready for your day.

When you came out of the bathroom towel wrapped around you tightly, wet hair loose and ready to be dried you had found him pacing the hotel room in his underwear trying to keep himself busy, it was something that would put most people on edge but you had seen this so many times before with him, always getting in his head, always doubting himself and usually you were able to talk him down easily, but this time you had decided to try a different method.

Calling his name you let go of the grip you had on your towel letting it drop to the ground as he looked up having not previously noticed you had come back into the room, freezing instantly eyeing the curve of your body, a slight smirk across his face.

“What’s this for” he laughed as he closed the gap between you, hands finding your hips as you rested yours on his chest.

“You needed to get out of your head” you whispered as your lent up to kiss him, one hand sliding down his chest and finding its way into his boxers taking his length in your hand and stroking it slowly as you felt it harden beneath your grip. You pecked his lips before dropping to your knees on the plush hotel carpet pulling his boxers down with you. You pumped him a few more times with your hand before letting your tongue lick over his head tasting the saltiness of pre-cum. You took him halfway into your mouth, letting your warmth surround him before pulling off and sliding your tongue along the underside of his cock. Surrounding him with your mouth once more, this time dropping down deeper and with more intent, you hand finds its way to play with his balls, Chris letting out a breathy moan. You started to bob your head up and down as his hand found its way into your hair guiding you as his hips began to thrust, his tip hitting the back of your throat with each movement. It didn’t take long before he was warning you that he was about to cum, and cum he did, hard and fast right down your throat as you swallowed the taste of him before letting his cock slide out of your mouth. Chris pulled you up from the floor crashing his mouth into yours, tasting the remnants of himself on your tongue as he guided you back to the bed determined to make you cum just as hard as he had.

An hour later you found yourself in the shower for the second time that day, this time joined by Chris. You took your time, him massaging shower gel onto your back, while you reached up lathering and rinsing out the shampoo from his hair. You made sure to gently scrape your fingers along his scalp the way you knew, from many nights laying on the couch fingers curled in his hair as he fell asleep in your arms, relaxed him. Once you got out of the shower you realized Chris’ stylist and the hair and make up artist you had insisted on hiring yourself would be showing up any second.

By the time you were in the car waiting to pull up to the carpet Chris had seemingly relaxed, he held your hand the entire car ride over but you knew he was in a much better place mentally and that the second he got out he would turn on his charm and have everyone eating out of the palm of his hand the way he always did. When it was time to get out of the car Chris stepped out first leaning in to offer you his hand as you stepped out behind him, you could here the gasps of fans and media alike, all surprised that Hollywood’s most eligible bachelor had bought a date. Chris had pulled you into his side at the photo area, his hand on your hip as you placed yours on his chest posing for the cameras. You had been surprisingly pretty calm about the whole thing until that moment, cameras flashing in your face and paparazzi screaming from behind their barricade for you to look in twelve directions at once. It was overwhelming and something you don't think you could ever get fully used to.

“Just breathe” He whispered to you out of the side of his mouth, knowing that you had started to spiral.

After what felt like an hour but was probably ten minutes Chris’ team moved you along to the press portion of the carpet, you had expected to just stand back with the team while Chris answered questions from reporters from all of the different networks and publications but he had refused to let go of your hand as he approached the first reporter so you found yourself next to him through it all. Of course the first question was about you, and you just knew every headline tomorrow would mention it. It used to frustrate you, how the media would hone in on any female he was seen with, making the story about that and not the hard work he was doing, but you knew they were just trying to sell papers, page click and views.

“So who do you have here with you today” the reporter smiled tilting her head in your direction

“This is my best friend” Chris started before motioning for you to finish, that was one of the many things you had always loved about Chris, he never wanted you to feel like you were in his shadow, you had your own voice and you could use it. You introduced yourself to the reporter who asked a few questions about how you met and then switched to talking about the movie. After a few more interviews that went in a similar fashion you were escorted into the theatre for the screening, Chris took your hand as the two of you sat side by side in the theatre waiting for the film to start. You had enjoyed it a lot and really loved seeing this side of Chris’ acting ability. When the movie was done he joined some of the cast at the front of the theatre for a quick question and answer session for the attendees before you all headed to the after party.

Chris had introduced you to some of his cast mates, and reintroduced you to a few you had met previously during a quick visit to set one afternoon. You had downed a few glasses of champagne by the time you were ready to leave the party, tipsy but not quite drunk. The two of you found your way back to your hotel, and you laughed as you entered the elevator remembering something you had thought about mid interview earlier that day.

“What?” Chris laughed pushing the button for your floor and leaning against the back of the elevator, as you pulled off the heels that you hadn’t realized until that moment were killing your feet.

“Earlier...I almost made the worst comment in the middle of that E! Interview”

“....oh god what were you gonna say?” He chuckled, amused at your tipsy candour.

“Well you introduced me as your friend...”

“Yeah....” Chris laughed, looking at you as if to say that’s what we agreed on.

“Well, you say we are just friends, but friends...friends don’t know the way that you taste” you smirked at him pointedly, both remembering the activities of that morning.

Chris burst out laughing, his full belly laugh, hand coming up to his chest before reach across and pulling you into him, placing a kiss on your nose as the elevator doors opened on your floor.

“True” he mumbled before leading you down the hallway to your room, “that is true” he had one hand in yours the other holding your heels that he must have picked up on the way out of the elevator. “Well, how about next time I call you something else?” He started tone playful “This is my fuck buddy, no my slam piece, no thats too informal he laughed, girlfriend? No, hmm” He opened the hotel room door letting you slide in past him as he reached around to flip on the light switch closing the door behind him.

You stopped in the entry way a gasp leaving your lips. The room was filled with flowers. The pink and white Chrysanthemums filled every spare counter space, they had always been your favorite and Chris had sent you some for every birthday without fail. There were fairy lights lining the room and a small cart with a bottle of champagne on ice and chocolate covered strawberries by the window.

You turned back to Chris, your heart racing only he wasn’t where you expected....

“How about Wife?” Your eyes connected with his, where he was knelt on the floor behind you an open green velvet ring box in hand.

“What” was all you could get out.

“How about next time I call you my Wife. Marry Me?” Chris said, laughing at the shocked expression on your face “I’ve loved you for almost 20 years now, you’re the best thing in my life, and I never want to be without you...”

“Yes.” You said before you could even really think about it. “Yes!?!” You repeated realizing what was happening as Chris pulled the ring out of the box, sliding it onto your finger quickly before standing up to kiss you.

You’re not sure how long you stood there in the entry way making out, but when you pulled away you noticed that Chris’ eyes, like yours, were a little damp as you went to run your thumb across his cheek you caught a glimpse of the ring on your hand realizing you had barely even looked at it before it was on your hand. Chris pressed his lips into your hair holding you to his chest as you admired it. It was beautiful, delicate, subtle, it was just the kind of ring you would have chosen for yourself.

“Do you like it” Chris whispered into your hair

“I love it” you smiled up at him, lightly pressing your lips to his

“I love you” he smiled, not letting go of you.

“I love you too bestie” you giggled as he grabbed you around the waist lifting you over his shoulder and tapping your ass lightly as he took off towards the bedroom.

#Chris Evans #Reader x Chris Evans #chris evans x reader #female reader #female reader x Chris evans #Chris evans x female reader #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans smut #reader insert

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haik-choo · 3 years

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how the haikyuu boys confess to you (on valentines day)

tsukishima:

For once, Tsukishima cares. He cares about your reaction, your words, your expression, your feelings (about him) -- just this once. It’s because of he pressure of your actions weighing down on his heart like an elephant on an orange that he plans. He made sure he got your favorite flowers, he has the specific type of desert that you like, he’s wearing the shirt he got when he thrifted with you for the first time -- the one that you said “makes him look really hot”-- and he’s at your door. He almost laughs at his reflection in windows of the shops he passed coming here, how pathetically in love he is, how hopelessly enraptured he is by you, a dork who bought him a mug with your face printed on it (”so you can see me every morning in college when you’re grumpy and won’t admit you miss me”). He rings the doorbell and knocks softly, hesitant, at the door. He hears a response come from inside the house and rapid foot steps approaching: He looks up while he’s waiting, pondering about if he’s really going to do this. He could always throw the bouquet of fragrant flowers and sweets down the railing and pretend he was bored and wanted to hang out; but when you fling open the door in your heart-pajamas, hair frizzy and sticking out everywhere, your face slack in shock at what he’s carrying, cheeks aflame and eyes glassy with a sheen of hope.... he decides it maybe isn’t such a bad idea to be so stupidly in love that he bought a bouquet the size of an elephants head.

“Do you wanna be my valentine, dumbass? If you say no this’ll be really fucking awkward. Please say yes.”

atsumu:

He never planned on saying it. Hell, he never even wanted to hang out with you on valentines, afraid that the words he kept hidden within the trenches of his heart would surface, bubbling and tumbling clumsily out of his mouth. But your text at 9pm on february 14th ended with a little smiley face and he decided to throw his new year’s resolution of stopping hanging out with you everyday out the window. Your smile was too addicting. He knew what he was getting himself into: it was late at night and you were both laughing down the empty streets, the moon hidden and instead a sky freckled with stars hung above. It was too perfect. You were too perfect. All it took was a dumb joke (on his behalf) and your dumb, squawk-like laughter to cause his heart to freeze. He’d never experienced this feeling before, the feeling of his eyes catching onto one image, the image of your face contorted with happiness, his whole body stopping, arms loose by his side, pupils dilated so wide. The words never would have left his lips had he not been drunk on your laugh, for his sober conscious was much too afraid of the possibility of rejection, the fear that your eyes would flit uncomfortably to the side with stuttered words of a pathetic-apology filling the air, his ears, and his heart. But god, his stupid one-track-mind brain couldn’t stop his mouth from moving. He was too far gone, lost in you, that his stupid mouth just couldn’t keep still.

“I love you, so much.”

sakusa:

The countertops are littered with bowls of icing and leftover batter, to which sakusa scrunches his nose at. He forces you to clean them, and “clean them properly” while he finishes preparing the cookies to go into the oven. Sakusa feels content despite your loud voice and strange taste in music: for a long while he wondered why your presence both simultaneously calmed him down while sending his heart into a frenzy, but now he knows it’s because he’s caught in the web your love. He doesn’t really mind, honestly, in fact, it makes his heart warm and full. The amount of time he spends with you is shocking, and he does things with you that he does with no one else -- he thought his feelings were more than obvious. But when you glance at his cookie-shaping from your spot at the sink and laugh, saying “Sakusa! you’re really good at baking! your future lover is gonna be so happy” Sakusa can’t help but let his movements stop and eyes stare at you in disbelief. He doesn’t even bother to verbally reply, instead opting to reach over and flick your forehead and go back to putting the cookies in the oven. Your whine doesn’t go unnoticed (”what was that for?!”) but it goes unanswered. After the dishes are washed, and the cookies are living their last few moments in warmth, you and Sakusa lean against the counter, staring at the timer tick closer to 0:00. Out of the blue, your voice softly finds its way to his ears, “I’m so happy. I know you’re picky at who you let into your apartment -- i still don’t know why you let me in -- but, really, I’m so happy. Thanks for tolerating me!” Sakusa just stares. At your face, the curve of your eyelashes, the batter in your hair, the sad smile playing your lips -- and the words flow out effortlessly. Your head whips over to him, and he laughs. “You’re so hopeless, you know that?” and with that, the timer beeps.

“You know it’s you I’m in love with, right? Why else would I let you make a mess in my kitchen?”

sugawara:

He had made up his mind. It was a week before the day of love, and Sugawara had made up his mind. No longer could he pretend that what he was feeling was just friendship, no longer could he hide how he truly, genuinely felt. It makes him laugh, thinking about how he thought he could ignore his feelings and that ,miraculously, one day, they’d disappear into thin air. But now he’s at the rooftop on the school, a pink letter gripped tightly by his clammy hands, and he’s ready. Ready for your rejection, for your acceptance, for your tears, for anything. When he made up his mind a week ago about confessing, he’d also accepted all the possible outcomes. If loving you -- and telling you that he loved you -- meant that everything you two had would crumble right before his very eyes, then so be it. He couldn’t hold his heart back anymore. Every second of every minute of every hour of every day he spent wishing that you were his, and he was yours. Love was messy. Love could hurt. But the worst outcome of love is when you keep silent. Plus, if you shared his feelings, then he might just be the happiest man alive. So, when the heavy metal door of the rooftop opens, exposing your confused expression, and when the wind suddenly starts back up, flipping your hair all around like a dramatic scene from a romance film, Sugawara has his mind made up. Determinedly, swiftly, he stands up. His eyes are glazed with passion and confidence. Calmly, he sticks his hand out, the pink letter with drawn-on hearts and cursive handwriting filling the envelope. When you gently take the letter from him, realizing what this all means, and look back up at him, face flushed, his mouth opens. Sugawara had made up his mind.

“I can’t hide it anymore. I'm so in love with you, I think my heart might explode -- will you accept my feelings?”

bokuto:

Bokuto won’t lie -- it took him a while to understand what he was feeling was not normal. ‘Normal’ for friends is spending time together, laughing together, going over to one another’s house and drinking until late. It’s hugging each other sometimes (or a lot, if you’re Kuroo), it’s hoping you always have them by your side. But what he feels for you? it took Akaashi smacking him upside the head and explaining to him what his feelings meant for Bokuto to realize. What he felt for you, was not friendship. He wanted to wake up next to you, he wanted to be the only one who you went out on ‘friend-dates’ with, he wanted to feel your lips on his shoulder, cheeks, lips. He wanted to see you at the other end of an aisle someday, but he didn’t want to be the guest at the wedding. He wanted to protect you, even though you didn’t need protecting; he wanted to hold you, to indulge in your warmth, to be the only one you held in his arms. He wanted to be buried next to you. “You’re in love with her, you dense idiot. God -- that’s not normal. I mean, do you want to kiss my cheek, be buried next to me?” Akaashi sighed out, Bokuto shook his head, no. “But you want to kiss them? Watch them grow old?” Bokuto shook his head, yes, but slowly. “Well, there’s your answer. Bokuto, you love them.” And that’s when everything clicked. That’s when the lightbulb flickered on, when his eyes widened. God, how dumb was he? And he’s letting you spend Valentine’s day alone? Without thinking, his hand reached for his phone, tapped on your contact (you were on speed-dial), and waited for your voice to ring through the speaker. “Yeah, what’s up, Ko?” He blurted out his words, almost insensitively, not realizing their true weight. The truth made his body feel light, and he couldn’t stop the bubbles of laughter that erupted from his throat -- he felt so stupid. How could he not have figured it out sooner? He didn’t even wait for your response before he started talking again (Akaashi nearly slammed his head on the table), which caused a small smile to break out on your face. Bokuto was so, so stupid.

“I just realized i love you. Like, really, really, love you. Hold up -- is there a place we can meet up so I can tell you this face-to-face? Wait, where are you? I’ll meet you there! Oh, happy Valentine’s day, by the way!”

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f1nalboys · 3 years

Text

Backstage - Bday fic for Danny

HAPPY (very late im sorry) BDAY TO @knifewh0re !! I really hope you like this and i hope your birthday went well AND i hope today is even better!!!

Poly!Ghostface x Danny

WORD COUNT: 1978

WARNINGS: they/them pronouns afab reader (which is danny), oral (amab and afab recieving), vaginal fingering, implication of more sex, semi-public sex, closet sex, time crunch, the boys aren’t mean in this one besides like two off-hand comments from billy

Billy and Stu stood backstage before the show searching for you. Stu was bouncing on the balls of his feet, practically vibrating with excitement. “Stu, man, relax. You’re getting on my nerves.” Stu pouts and opens his mouth to say something but stops himself. He elbows Billy in the side harshly, pointing down the crowded hallway. Billy cranes his neck and breaks out into a grin.

It was you. You were surrounded by your band, decked out in your stage outfit and laughing and god you looked beautiful. Billy didn’t wait for Stu and took off down the hallway, his heart beating. You went to college with them, actually had a class with Billy, but you didn’t know them. They knew you, obviously.

Your band was getting popular in the punk scene and Stu had seen you play live a few months ago and immediately fell in love with your voice. He forced Billy to listen and, even though punk wasn’t his most loved genre, he had to admit that you were fucking amazing. And now they were here. Stu had bought backstage passes for the show and told Billy that they had to talk to you.

“Danny!” You turn around at the sound of your name with your eyebrows furrowed. Stu had caught up to Billy and had a big smile on his face, waving you over. Even though you didn’t know the two of them you went over, their smiles and the blush creeping up the neck of the brown haired boy made you curious.

“Uhm, hey. You two know me?”

“Yeah! We actually go to school with you, Billy here’s in your Intro to Film History class with you,” Stu says, nudging Billy towards you with his elbow. Billy forces a smile, his heart beating fast when you smile back. “And we happen to be huge fans of yours.”

You grin, turning around and waving off your band member, asking them to give you a few minutes. “Sorry about that. We have like half an hour before the show starts. So, you go to school with me? How come I’ve never seen you two around before? Think I would’ve noticed two cute guys.”

Stu lets out a high pitched nervous laugh, punching Billy on the shoulder hard. He was fucking star struck at this point. “Cute? You think we’re cute?” He says with a grin that only grows when you nod. They were cute! Stu was wearing a button up shirt and a denim jacket - which Billy had bought him specially for this - and Billy wore a tight black t-shirt and ripped jeans.

“I’m Billy, that’s Stu. And you’re Danny, right?”

“Sure am. So, any reason you two came out here to see us play?” Billy’s eyebrow raises. He could have sworn you were flirting with them. Stu seems to think the same thing because he makes a small choked noise which makes you laugh, hard.

Stu shrugs, deciding now is the perfect time to start acting more suave. “We wanted to wish you luck before the show. With words or actions, whichever you’d prefer.” If Billy weren’t hoping you’d say yes he would have turned around and punched Stu as hard as he possibly could for being so god damn forward.

“I mean, I could definitely go for some physical encouragement. You two think you could make it quick?”

“Wait, really?” Stu was actually pretty shocked you were agreeing. He was happy, like, REALLY happy, but he was still shocked. You nod and Billy takes a hold of your hand and drags you down the hallway. He wanted to find somewhere that the three of you wouldn’t be interrupted.

You stop him halfway down the hallway and pull him into a dark room, flipping the light on when Stu comes in behind you both. It was a supply closet, a fairly large one, and Stu locks the door behind him as Billy pulls you in for a kiss.

“Wait, wait, no,” You say, pushing away from him. He gives you a confused look, worried he had gone too fast too soon. “Can’t kiss; can’t fuck my stage makeup up.” He snorts, deciding to kiss your neck instead. Stu’s behind you, the two men trapping you in between their bodies.

Stu replaces Billy’s lips on your neck, nipping at your pulse and grinning against your skin when you moan. Billy is on his knees, working on getting your pants off. His nails dig into the skin of your thighs as he yanks your jeans down and you hiss, goosebumps raising down your legs.

Your head rolls back against Stu’s shoulder as his hands slip up your shirt and past your bra, his fingers finding your nipples with ease. Billy groans as his finger dips past your underwear, gliding down your folds. “Fuck, Stu, man, they’re soaked.”

“Are they now? You into us or something, baby?” He coos into your ear, pinching at your nipple hard and you whimper loudly. Stu laughs, his breath hot against your skin, as Billy’s fingers begin to rub circles on your clit. You’re bucking into his fingers and you let out a particularly loud moan when he moves his hand off of you.

Your eyes pop open and Billy is right in your face, shoving his fingers, wet with your arousal, in your mouth. Stu grabs the bottom of your shirt and yanks it up, slipping it off of your body with ease. “Think you could use your mouth for something else?” Stu asks with a wicked grin. Rolling your eyes, you don’t take long to debate, sinking down onto your knees.

“Can’t do it for long, boys. Got twenty minutes before I need to be out there, so you better get to it.” Stu’s pants and underwear are long gone now and he’s fisting his cock right in front of you with an eager look in his eyes. You smile, replacing his hand with your own, and licking a long stripe up the underside of his dick.

His head rolls back and he lets out a low moan as your tongue swirls over his tip. “Fuuuck, Danny…” He goes to put his hand on the back of your head, wanting to force you to take him to the hilt, but he stops himself by grabbing ahold of Billy’s shoulder. “Their mouth, man. Shit, could make me cum already.”

Billy’s hand was on his own cock and he was focused on your face. You never took Stu in your mouth fully, never moving past wrapping your lips around the tip of him, and somehow he could tell it was the best blowjob Stu’s probably ever gotten. Save for him, of course. “Wanna feel that mouth of yours,” He says and you pop off of Stu, a glob of spit connecting you to him. “Can we fuck you?”

You hesitate before your hand wraps around his cock, pumping him slowly. “God, I wish. Like, you have no fucking idea how badly I want you two, but we have less than 15 minutes and if we do it I want it to last longer than that. How bout I help you two out and you help me?” Without waiting for an answer you repeat what you had just done to Stu.

“Holy shit,” He groans. He can’t take his eyes off of you or your hands or your lips. Everything about you was intoxicating. You swirl your tongue around his tip a few times, hollowing your lips when you take him into your mouth. “Christ, Danny, your mouth feels so fucking good. Such a good whore for us.”

You moan around him and he gasps, barely stopping himself from slamming his hips further down your throat. Stu was jerking off next to him, eyes trained on you, and he threw his head back, calling your name. “Danny, fuck, gonna cum. Where, shit! Where can I?”

Pulling off of Billy you flash the two of them a wide smile and respond simply. “On each other.”

“Huh?” Stu’s eyebrows furrowed together slightly, his hand pausing in it’s movements. You lick your lips and they watch with wide eyes as your hand reaches down and slips past your underwear. Your eyes flutter closed, soft moans leaving your lips. Music to their ears.

“I, mmh. I said cum on each other, god, and then you can taste me.” That’s all the encouragement they needed. They turned towards each other but kept their eyes on you, the sounds of your pleasure mixing with their own. Billy was chasing his high, the thought of being able to delve into your cunt sending shockwaves through his body.

Stu is the first one to cum, both your name and Billy’s falling from his lips as he thrusts into his hand. His cum coats Billy’s thighs and hands, adding to the slick of his own cock. Billy cums soon after and Stu takes a second to get on his knees and takes his dick into his mouth, taking him to the base. What can he say, he loved Billy’s dick.

“Fuck, that was hot,” You whimper, your eyes moving in time with the bob of Stu’s head. “Hurry up and eat me out, you got ten minutes. If you do good, maybe I’ll consider making this a regular thing.” Billy’s on his knees in a second, throwing your hand off of yourself and pushing you back onto your ass. You yelp as the concrete digs into your skin but the pain is quickly washed away, taken over by the pleasure of his tongue dipping through your folds.

He’s moaning at the taste of you, his hands grabbing your thighs and spreading you wider, opening you up for him. His tongue focuses on your clit, switching between circling it to flicking it with the tip of his tongue, sucking on it every few seconds. Your hand tangles in his hair and you’re grinding down on his face when Stu’s fingers enter you.

He starts up a fast pace with two fingers, filling you so suddenly all you can do is cry out his name and roll your eyes to the back of your head. “Fuck! Please, shit, you both feel so good. Please, I’m close, please let me, please make me,” Your pleas’ urge them onwards, Stu’s fingers and Billy’s tongue speeding up.

You cum hard, harder than you have in the past from just oral, and your body is convulsing with pleasure as they continue. They don’t stop until you practically collapse against the floor and even then Stu takes his chance to lick up your cunt, tasting you. “Mmm, you taste fucking delicious, babe.”

“You alright, Danny? We didn’t kill you, did we?” Billy asks and even with your eyes closed you know he’s smiling. You nod, take a deep breath, and stand up, your knees weak. Stu wraps his arms around your waist, kissing your neck while Billy helps you pull your pants back up, buttoning them up before kissing you on the lips. “Sorry. Couldn’t help myself.”

Stu opens the door and peeks out, looking both ways before ushering the two of you outside. Billy runs a hand down your cheek, down your neck, and he tsks at the dark marks that were forming. “Stu! Asshole, you left hickies like a 15 year old.”

“They look hot with them!” He replies, giving you another sloppy kiss on the neck, and you laugh. You shove him off of you, brushing your clothes off and looking at them with a grin.

“So… you guys staying after the show? I’d love to show you the green room.”

Billy grins, wetting his bottom lip with his tongue, eyes dragging down your body. “For you? Hell yeah, we are. Can’t wait to see how hot you look with that makeup of yours running.”

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