#even more when you consider the school did literally nothing to intervene in any of the bullying or ongoing escalation of things

[vypcr]

“It’s not fair y’know. Everyone else got to go back to normal but here we are eating shit.”

yes bb you’re right and you should say it

#there's a reason tory and robby are the only ones who got prosecuted (besides maybe stingray based on a passing comment) #there were so many people involved in that fight and so much bullshit happened and YET #only two of them got stuck with lasting consequences for it???? hm #it's not bc they actually care about 'justice' or whatever bullshit excuse they needed scapegoats to appease the mob of parents #while also incurring the least amount of legal trouble necessary #and the best way to avoid that? target two of the kids with the least amount of financial resources and fragile support systems #it helps them that tory started the fight and robby hurt miguel. it was an easy choice for them. #still scummy as fuck though. fuck the whole school system and I stand by that. #punitive justice is bullshit anyway but especially when targeted towards teenagers #even more when you consider the school did literally nothing to intervene in any of the bullying or ongoing escalation of things #sat on their asses until they HAD to do something bc it was already out of control #did nothing to help their students or offer them support just wanted everyone to be quiet and pretend like there are no problems lol #god idk why I'm going off on this again today but I'm rewatching s3 and I'm MAD AS HELL

[lonelier-version-of-you]

Having one of those days where I think about how profoundly fucked up Henrik’s life actually is and how much the writers piled on to him, most of which was never properly actually addressed (or some of it was outright played for laughs, like his sexual assault in series 19).

He was born to a neglectful father and a mentally ill, Holocaust survivor mother, inherited that intergenerational trauma from his mum, was sent to a boarding school in a whole other country as a child where he was canonically ostracised for being undiagnosed autistic and where he also definitely would've faced antisemitism, grew up queer at a time where homosexuality was outright illegal in Britain and considered a mental disorder in Sweden, grew up autistic at a time when next to nothing was known about autism (it wasn't even in the ICD until Henrik was well into his teens) so he just thought he was broken, was sexually abused as a teenager, had to deal with his mother’s suicide, was abandoned for months by his father (who made Henrik and Elisabet think he was dead by leaving a suicide note), found out his father betrayed the family, attempted suicide himself as a teen, came of age as a bisexual man during the AIDS crisis, attempted suicide again at uni, was taken hostage and had his life threatened, had to go home to Sweden to confront his dying father, lost a friend who was like a daughter to him, got in a car crash that could’ve killed him, had to treat his seriously injured colleagues after said car crash (including having to perform neurosurgery on one of them, when he hadn’t been a neurosurgeon in years), lost a friend who was like a son to him, lost a close friend from his young adult years in Sweden, was sexually assaulted and harassed and no one took him seriously about it, found out his son was committing medical malpractice that was killing people and had to report him for it despite knowing there was a chance he’d never see his family again if he did so, had to witness a friend who was like a son to him being hospitalised as a result of domestic violence injuries and felt guilty for not doing more to intervene sooner, dealt with his son coming back into his life which reminded Henrik of how he’d failed him, lost one of his closest friends from university, witnessed his son shooting up his workplace, witnessed another one of his closest friends nearly dying, witnessed his colleague being shot, witnessed his son being shot and dying a violent death right in front of him, had to deal with not only his own guilt about the situation but other people and the media blaming him, dealt with his daughter-in-law cutting him off from having any contact with his grandson for a long time because of this, had an emotional breakdown in the middle of his workplace, had to see his close friend undergo multiple major surgeries because his son shot her (and in fact Henrik had to operate on her himself once), another close friend he had romantic feelings for was hit by a car and then died, he discovered the love of his life was the one to kill her + had tried to kill Jac + was committing medical malpractice resulting in the deaths of numerous people, he then saw said love of his life drown himself right in front of Henrik, and instead of supporting him through this the people around him just brushed off his pain with a few cliche murmurings about how “it wasn’t your fault” because they cared more about pressuring him to take back a job he hated and that he had told them harmed his mental health, another one of his close friends nearly died, he was suddenly forced to start caring for his grandson which caused his trauma about Fredrik to resurface (although at least he did find some healing out of all of this, which you can’t say for literally everything else I’ve listed), a former colleague of his was presumed dead (although he found out she was alive eventually), a friend of his died from cancer, he went through a pandemic as a healthcare worker and probably lost a lot of patients all while likely struggling with his own OCD (he canonically has handwashing compulsions, remember...), he had to operate on a friend he saw as a son to him and said friend basically disowned him in the aftermath, he found out a man he had hired was a serial killer, he was forced to operate on his rapist twice, put his career at risk and broke the law by pushing his rapist up the transplant list just so his friend wouldn’t do it herself and put her own career at risk, found out his rapist had been going after more children and Henrik felt like it was his fault for not speaking out, opened up about his abuse only to not be believed, was forced to admit in the middle of his fucking workplace that he was raped, went through all the distress and re-traumatisation of reporting his abuser only for said abuser to die before the case ever went to trial, had to treat another victim of his abuser, had to help his friend’s son go to the police for the murder of his abuser, found out his friend had a brain tumour (the same thing his aforementioned surrogate daughter died of), was caught in a hospital bombing and could’ve died, found out a sexual abuser had been allowed to roam free and traffic children at the hospital he ran (though they never addressed how he’d feel about this for some reason except to have him brush it off with some remark about “resilience”... regardless, there’s no way he wouldn’t have felt really guilty about it), was physically harmed by a colleague with PTSD, had to confront his internalised homophobia and struggled to come out of the closet, and then, finally, even in the last ever episode of the show, one of his very closest friends died.

Oh, and I’m probably forgetting some stuff.

Especially in the final years of the show, Henrik’s name really did become synonymous with ‘trauma p*rn’. :/

#Holby City #Henrik Hanssen #tw;holocaust mention #tw;sexual abuse #tw;rape #tw;suicide #tw;abuse #tw;domestic violence mention #long post #this is an absolute wall of text but that's what happens when you give a character way too much trauma #see this is why i say he should have had a proper breakdown at some point

[alluringjae]

until dawn - ljn

part I | part II

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

⤑ pairing: jeno x female reader

⤑ word count: 14k

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

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

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

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

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

⤑ leave me some feedback, constructive criticism or hellos!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 To my temporary replacement,

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

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

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

Good luck!

 Park Sanghoon

Night Guard on Leave

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How can I make her come around then?”

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

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

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

“How about the second way?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You can never go wrong with Frank Sinatra!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A win he didn’t feel good about.

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

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

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

Nothing more, nothing less.

Weeks passed, and his attempts continued to be unsuccessful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why were you so cold?

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

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

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

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

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

Boom.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you think I’ll be okay again?”

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

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

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

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

Was he with his friends?

Was he resting well?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where is he, Princess Diana?”

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

“Over there.”

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s absolutely beautiful.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why so?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, my. You must’ve jinxed it.

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

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

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

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

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

Lee Jeno specifically was the view.

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

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

Lee Jeno embodied attractive features; both physical and emotional.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can we start over then?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Respectfully,

(Y/N)

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

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

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

#nct #nct au #nct scenarios #nct x reader #nct fluff #nct angst #nct smut #nct imagines #nct dream #nct dream au #nct dream scenarios #nct dream x reader #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #nct dream smut #nct dream imagines #lee jeno #lee jeno x reader #lee jeno au #lee jeno scenarios #lee jeno angst #lee jeno imagines #lee jeno fluff #lee jeno smut #jeno #jeno x reader #jeno au #jeno scenarios #jeno imagines #jeno fluff

[wattpadscapcons]

Wait, wait, wait! I got an amazing idea!

Look at me, being humble/jk

What about a drabble where Y/N protects Kagehara during another bullying session? Yeah, let's use Momota. Kaito's picking on Shuichi, nothing new. But then Y/N steps in and beats the fuck outta Momota. Y/N gets detention for the fight, but then Shuichi comes and joins them. He feels guilty that they intervened to save him, but they reassure him that they will let no one hurt someone as kind as him

mmm reader woke up and chose violence. I dig it

I did a little twist on this, I hope you don't mind. Consider it an apology for your school screwing up, since I wrote the school system in this in a rather sarcastic way

=

Delinquents (Pregame! Shuichi x "Delinquent"!Reader)

=

Detention again.... How wonderful, being bored out of your mind waiting for the clock to magically change to the time that frees you from your prison sentence. This is so stupid, why were you the one being punished when you were only protecting someone?

But noooooo, little Y/N isn't allowed to break a kid's face when they try hurting your friend. What a joke. It's no wonder that you try to get kids like Shuichi to skip school with you. It's obvious they can't protect themselves, so there's no real reason why they should have to be in a hellhole like this. Well, I mean there is an obvious reason why they're supposed to be here, but still.

=

You still can't believe Kaito only got a slap on the wrist for shoving Shuichi around like a ragdoll. You know damn well that he was the one who pushed the poor kid down the stairs last week. It's sickening, over and over you're forced to watch this kid get pushed, shoved, kicked, and hit, and for what? Existing? Shuichi is an absolute marshmallow compared to the other kids in class. Never does anything wrong, never tries to start drama, overall good kid. He's helped you a lot in class, despite being a little afraid of you.

If you had enough money you'd go after the guy that funds the school, because the staff doesn't do anything to stop these kids from getting hurt. It's honestly just getting to that point now. Unless you're kicking a kid's head in, no one seems to care anymore. You know a lot of the kids are getting worried that it's only going to get worse.

=

Those are thoughts for another day though. All you can do for the next few hours is pretend to do work, doodling into a notebook while waiting for that stupid teacher to let you out. Guy isn't even paying attention to you either, you could probably sneak out no problem. Sadly, it's not a risk you're wanting to take, you've got yourself into enough trouble for one day.

=

"This is so stupid."

"It's your own fault you're here. Don't go complaining about it."

"He deserved it!"

"Just be quiet and do your work, you're lucky you didn't get expelled this time."

"I almost wish I did. This school sucks!"

"Tell me about it...."

=

No other words were spoke until the door opened and Shuichi was dragged in by his collar by Ms. Yuu. He looked a little uncomfortable, though you could understand why. Ms. Yuu is the nice teacher. What in god's name did he do to piss her off?

=

"Wantabe, I have another one for you."

"Ah, Kagehara. Not who I was expecting. What'd he do?"

"I found him destroying school property."

"It wasn't me!"

"Quiet!"

"Yes ma'am..."

"Alright, sit down, don't cause yourself any more trouble."

=

Shuichi quickly took a seat beside you. His demeanor changed completely the second Wantabe turned his attention back to his phone. He was probably watching Youtube, as bored as you were.

Shuichi nudged your shoulder lightly to get your attention after a few minutes of silence.

=

"Hey."

"Did you literally get yourself into trouble just to talk to me?"

"No, I told Ms. Yuu I just needed to talk to you. She knew that if I didn't get in trouble that I wouldn't be allowed in here. Her acting skills are pretty good right?"

"I thought she was pissed off so yeah....Not saying she should quit her day job though, she's one of the only good teachers left."

Shuichi went silent after that. It was kinda annoying to say the least.

=

"Did you come here to tell me something or just keep me company while I wait to be released from solitary confinement?"

"I just wanted to say sorry. You didn't have to-"

"I'm going to have to stop you right there. Momota got what was coming to him. Messed with the wrong kid."

"Wrong...kid?"

"Yeah, I mean, you're one of the nicest kids left in this school. I like you, so this punishment is certainly worth the trouble of beating the shit out of Momota."

".......Thank you."

"Don't mention it. I don't want people thinking I've gone soft 'cause of you. Got a reputation to uphold."

"Yet you're being nice to me."

"Well, it's not like I'm giving other people the right to question me about it. If they ask, your my friend."

"Are we friends?"

"Duh."

"Heh..."

"How's the face by the way? You get to see the nurse?"

"She only gave me ice, it melted a while ago so I'm out of luck. It doesn't really hurt all that much anymore-"

"Hold that thought."

=

Reaching into your bag, you retrieved the thermos you carry around for gym. Still freezing cold, very good. It should work as good as an ice bag, so long as he isn't sensitive to things that cold.

=

"This should help."

"How's this going to- jesus that's cold!"

"It has ice water in it, course it's gonna be cold. Just wrap your sleeve around it and put it against your face."

=

He got very quiet after a while, and the two of you settled on playing a few dozen games of hangman and making crude drawings of the kids at school you didn't like. Dozens of little drawings of Rantaro, Kaito, Ak//m//stu, as well others filled the pages of your notebook. You depicted them in rather violent situations, like being chased by wild animals. Shuichi only seemed to attempt that once, making Kaito a chewtoy for a rather cutesy looking bear. Other drawings depicted them as looking like 90s style hippies, chained to a tree.

=

"Wait, Wait! Let me add...this."

"Pftt you made it so much better! I wish Momota looked like that in real life."

"I think he'd be the one being bullied instead of me if he did."

=

The both of you were rather sad when your mutual prison sentence was finally over. It was actually fun this time. Oh well, might as well walk him home.

#pregame saihara #danganronpav3 #danganronpa #pregame shuichi x reader #kagehara x reader #kagehara #pregame shuichi #pregame #pregame drv3 #pregame saihara x reader #pregame shuichi imagine #pregame!shuichi

[sailorsero]

nothin’ else like this - nsfw

author: claire (@sailorsero​) ship: solo adult bakugou katsuki, dash of adult bakugou x gender neutral reader, side adult kaminari denki x adult shinsou hitoshi prompt/genre: birthday & food kink themed solo play wordcount: 2887 warnings: explicit sexual content, swearing, kink, food fetish/food kink/sploshing a/n: • written for the Bakugou’s Birthday Bash Collaboration - check out the masterlist to see everyone elses!) • shoutout to @foolishfortuna who is writing an amazing food fetish kiribaku that inspired me to write this kink • i do not give permission for this (or any of my writing) to be reposted, by anyone, on this or any other website. please don’t do it! • title from ‘birthday cake’ by rihanna

nothin’ else like this *** pinkyofficial • HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE BLASTIEST BOY IN THE GALAXY!!! @explosiongoddynamight LOVE YOU!!! 💥🧡🍹🎂😘 CAN’T WAIT TO SEE YOU AND GET TURNT WITH MAH BOYSSS!!! BAKUSQUAD BABY!!! 👬🧍‍♀️👬 GO TELL DYNAMIGHT HAPPT BIRTHDAY Y’ALL!!! #dynamight #pinky #birthdaybitch

its_cellophane: happt birthday @explosiongoddynamight pinkyofficial: @its_cellophane suddenly we’re a squad of 4 #cellowho theredriot: Look at us 🥺 can’t wait to celebrate together, love you guys!!! happy birthday bro @explosiongoddynamight ♥️ chargebolt: But can we get #birthdaybitch trending tho?? 🤔

Bakugou tutted, flicking through the photos Mina had posted to Instagram. One from last years Hero Gala, with Tweedle Dumb, Dumber and Dumbest crowded into his personal space - all smiles, suits and champagne flutes. A post-graduation selfie with the woman herself, where he felt so triumphant at moving onto the next stage of his quest to become #1, that he hadn’t even objected to the filter that gave them huge eyelashes and bear ears. A couple from their most recent meetups, candids from their school days (mostly taken without his knowledge, let alone permission; the only one that he was posing for featured a double middle finger that had set Iida off for a good fifteen minutes), one from a photoshoot his publicist had strong armed him into and his friends had christened ‘The Great Bakugou Thirst Trap of 2020’.

Bakugou did not consider himself a sentimental person, or someone who placed a great deal of importance on his own birthday; he hadn’t even made any fuss when you told him you were needed in Osaka for a mission that would take you away two days before he turned 24.

But he couldn’t help but go back to the first photo of the bunch, allowing himself a soft smile he would deny under oath.

His 17th birthday, his first birthday with - ugh - real friends. He remembered rolling his eyes when Racoon Eyes had given her blindingly pink phone to the waitress, yelling at Sparky and Tape Face when they’d shoved themselves into the same side of the booth as the rest of them, growling when Shitty Hair had told him to ‘say ‘cheese’, Bakubro!’.

They all looked so young, pre-undercuts and piercings and late teenage growth spurts. He’d have to remember the (very secret) happiness that night had brought him next time Kirishima annoyed him by stepping mud into his carpet or Kaminari pissed him off by opening his big fat mouth.

Bakugou was drawn from his thoughts by knocking on his office door. Knocking that started out strong for the first hit, dropping noticeably into something more tentative for the rest; probably once they remembered whose door they were knocking on. Kirishima had once told him that the interns drew straws on who had to ‘rattle the beast’s cage’ (interact with Bakugou). He’d know; that idiot had been rattling Bakugou’s cage 25/8 since their first year at Yuuei.

“Come in!”

The door opened far enough for an assistant who had already been by this morning with a sack of birthday cards mixed in with regular fan mail to poke their head through the gap.

“Mr Dynamight, Sir, there’s another delivery for you.”

Bakugou nodded, leaning back in his leather desk chair and stretching out his back. Damn paperwork day, and on his birthday. Fuck, was 24 the age your back started aching from sitting in a goddamn chair?!

The assistant continued as they approached the desk, despite the fact that Bakugou didn’t fucking ask.

“It’s a cake, from a lovely bakery downtown; a delivery person just dropped it off. Their cakes are exquisite, by all accounts.”

They stepped back from the desk once the baby blue box was securely placed down, a white satin ribbon wound expertly around it. An embossed logo Bakugou recognised shone under the overhead light.

The blonde’s quirk made short work of the ribbon, burning it idly with one hand so the rest could be severed with ease.

Bakugou flipped the lid of the box up, letting it fall fully open so he could inspect the contents. He blinked. He blinked again.

It was a cake. A strawberry shortcake, slathered with cream and fresh fruit, and perfectly placed in the centre was a chocolate disc with immaculately piped words.

♡ HAPPY BIRTHDAY DYNAMIGHT ♡

“It’s from your fanclub!”

He let his eyes drift back up to the assistant, who - from what Bakugou could infer from the overly positive, cheery tone he was using - clearly thought Bakugou was seconds away from blasting the expensive gateau across his office, and was trying to avert having to call the janitorial staff back up to this floor. He understood; unbridled, perhaps not-always-reasonable rage was kind of his brand, and the cleaners had already had to make a return journey today after Kaminari had set off several sprinklers making toast.

A cake. Yes, a cake. From his fanclub. A cake from his fanclub. That he was definitely going to eat and nothing else, nothing weird! A cake for him to eat. At home. In private. As soon as possible.

“That’s-” He cleared his throat and tried again. “That’s...great. It looks delicious...yes. Thanks. That’s all. You can...go.”

The assistant looked like they were struggling to process the combination of words that had just left Bakugou, but he was pleased when they decided to take this struggle on the road and left his office with a rushed “Yes, Mr Dynamight, Sir, thank you, you are welcome, good bye!” and the click of the office door.

Bakugou barely had time to drag his fingers through his hair, letting out a breath he had apparently been holding since he’d spoken, before the door opened again.

“Knock knock!” “You know he says it doesn’t count if you say it instead of doing it, especially if you’ve already open- Denki!”

Bakugou groaned as Kaminari shot across the room, peering into the still-open box on the desk. “Ooh, that looks amazing, bro! Can I have some?”

“Hey, Kats! Happy birthday, man!” Kirishima beamed at him before dropping his gaze to the cake Kaminari was currently eyefucking. Bakugou slid the box an inch or two closer to himself. He steadfastly ignored the other blonde’s question.

“Thanks, Ei. What’s Dunce Face doing here - world’s worst birthday present?”

Kirishima snorted, clapping Kaminari on the shoulder. “Ran into him a few blocks away on our patrols; figured we’d catch you now to say ‘happy birthday’ on the actual day instead of waiting for Saturday!”

Kaminari brought out what he probably considered the big guns; his finger guns, that he did for literally everything. “Happy birthday, Blasty! Speaking of your birthday, where did the cake come from? Sent with luuurve from Osaka? Although, that would be weird because you don’t even really like sweets and this won’t keep until Saturday when we get togeth-“

“It’s from my fanclub, Pikachu, and keep your staticky hands off my cake!” Bakugou flipped the lid back down, shielding the cake from view.

“Man, don’t be like that - there’s no way you’re gonna be able to eat all that by yourself!” Kaminari whined.

“Relax, Denks - you know Y/N has a cake ordered for Bakubro’s Belated Birthday Blowout!” Kirishima patted his back consolingly.

“I really wish you’d all stop calling it that. God, letting you guys have their number was a fucking mistake.”

Kaminari looked thoughtful; it was terrifying. “You know, I heard, one time, a hero got given a homemade cake by a fan, and when they took a bite of it, they realised they had a mouth full of the fan’s pubic hair!”

“Dude!” “What the everloving fuck, Dunce Face?!”

Kaminari just beamed, apparently proud of himself for making Bakugou question his life on the anniversary of his birth.

“Firstly, does this cake look fucking homemade to you? Secondly, where the fuck did you read that? ‘Disgusting Stories for Stupid Fucking Idiots Monthly’?”

Kaminari shrugged, nonplussed. “Sero told me.”

“Yes, then. Same thing, pretty much.”

Kirishima interrupted, looking thoughtful. “If you think Bakubro’s cake is full of pubes, why do you want to eat it?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had a mouthful of pubes, bro! ‘Toshi’s more of an au naturel kind of guy…”

Bakugou saw Kirishima’s (painful looking) thinking face intensify, and intervened immediately. “Ei, do not pull at this thread. He-“ Bakugou punctuated with a harsh jab towards the electric hero. “- has told us several times that he’s had Mindfucker’s dirty feet in his mouth before, not to mention all the bodily fluids, and then there’s all the disgusting public places they’ve fucked, and-“

“Don’t kinkshame me, bruh!” Kaminari cut in, sounding lowkey offended, but Bakugou noted the look of pride from before hadn’t diminished, even a little bit.

Bakugou snorted. He constantly shamed Kaminari and his walking corpse of a boyfriend, but that was because they were shamelessly disgusting oversharing nymphomaniacs and someone had to do it. Preferably before one of them creamed their pants in a karaoke bar again. That was Shinkami shaming, not kinkshaming.

He definitely had no room to kinkshame people; not with the plans he had for this cake.

***

Bakugou slammed the door to his apartment shut with his hip and laid the bakery box down on the side table so he could make quick work of his boots and jacket.

God, that had to have been the longest taxi ride of his life. He couldn’t risk the subway with such a precious cargo, so he’d had to sit in the back of the cab next to the box (that he’d had to resist the urge to belt in) and sweat in silence.

Bakugou didn’t know where this kink had come from - maybe he’d watched too much Food Network in his formative years, or passing by the bakery with the amazing smell opposite his junior high school twice a day for three years before going home to jerk it had warped his sexuality; all he knew was, he was gonna fuck this cake.

It was a shame that you were miles and miles away and unavailable for a Facetime like no other; introducing you to his kink had been one of the best weekends of his life, and he was pretty sure - if he knows you as well as he thinks he does - you’d placed an order for two birthday cakes for his belated celebrations.

Maybe you’d got other stuff in mind, too - pie, custard, ice cream, syrups, chocolate, sushi, spaghetti, fruit…and now he was half-hard, still fully dressed and standing in the hallway.

Well, you weren’t here now, but it was his birthday, dammit! He would just have to play alone, and send you some photos afterwards.

Bakugou seized the box and made quick strides until he could place it down on his bedside table.

The comforter flew off of the bed, pooling into a lavish lump on the floor right before the pillows landed one by one on top. The undersheet was last, leaving the rubber sheet beneath exposed to one of the only two people who knew it was there in the first place.

The box made its final move to the middle of the protected mattress, where Bakugou tilted it just enough to be able to coax the cake free with help from gravity and without getting it all over his hands. Not yet…

Bakugou made short work of his clothes, kicking his pants and briefs off impatiently a second before climbing onto the bed and kneeling beside his prize.

Normally, he’d take his time, play around more, have more of a plan, but today, the anticipation had him on a knife edge already. It had been nearly four hours since he’d unwrapped this gift, and he was dying to play with it.

Bakugou leant his knees spread apart, sinking into a squat so he was as close as he could get to his treat.

He was fully hard now, and gave his cock a couple of quick pumps, letting his fist settle loosely from the base down as he took a deep breath and brought his leaking tip to the side of the cake.

His breath left him in a quick rush when the first contact was made; the cream was on the cooler side, and the smooth finish of the outside of the cake was everything he had been missing since he’d last indulged himself like this.

It took all the self control Bakugou had to only push the head in, then pause and take a breath, focusing intently on every sensation as he pushed in as slowly as was physically possible.

The afternoon of waiting felt like edging, so the sensation against his cock, inch by inch, was almost too much as it was not enough.

The sponge was almost as soft and velvety as the cream, but providing some texture and resistance that felt as delicious as the dessert looked.

Bakugou let out the first of many moans as he bottomed out, the air in the bedroom already beginning to smell like sugar and strawberries - just the right side of cloying, and he knew before long it would be so heady he’d be dizzy from it.

He pulled out almost as slowly as he went in, raising himself back up a little and bracing himself with his hands on the other side of the intact cake, leaving him looking over it on his hands and knees.

His reentry at a slightly higher point of the cake wasn’t quite as slow as the first breach, but he’s never been known for his patience.

Bakugou pulled in and out a couple of times, leaving a clear hole to fuck as he began to do just that, his hips begnining to thrust in a steady rhythm.

It didn’t take long for the squishy sounds coming from between his legs to turn into sloppy ones; the delicate cake was beginning to buckle already, the defined layers enveloping his cock becoming mushy around him.

Balancing his weight on one arm, he swiped his now-free hand across the top of the cake, coming away with as generous a handful of cream and strawberry slices as he could without threatening the structural integrity of the cake prematurely.

Bakugou raised his hand and smacked it right into the middle of his chest, before smearing it across his right pec, rubbing purposefully over his nipple as he did so. His hips sped up slightly without intention - or him noticing - as he alternated between smearing the food deeper into his flushed skin, and tugging on his nipple.

He could hear whimpering in his ears and it took a beat or two for Bakugou to realise they were coming from him. Fuck, it all just felt so good.

He blindly grabbed another small handful, this time coming away with some cake mixed into his spoils, before repeating the treatment on his left pec, but with a roughness borne of his increasing desperation.

“Fuck, fuck, shit, I-“ He hissed out a breath, pinching his nipple firmly as he felt the cake begin to collapse inwards, the squelch of the fucking he was giving it echoing in his ears.

A final scoop of the dessert onto his fingers went straight into his mouth, his plush, pink lips parting to accommodate three fingers; he was close.

Bakugou’s balance was starting to go as his orgasm approached, so he pulled his fingers free from his tongue and resumed his position, but beginning to sink lower into the mess he was fucking into his mattress protectors. From his angle, his balls began to slap what was left of the sides of the sinking cake, and the noise that created tore another moan from the blonde.

He could feel the sticky mess coating his crotch and inner thighs, closing his eyes as he lost himself in the feeling of indulging in the kink that turned him on like nothing else, wanting to savour something he knew was nearly over.

“Oh my fuck- ing, shit, oh, fuck-“

Bakugou’s hips were moving at a frantic pace now, chasing a release inside the cake while it still had an inside.

His orgasm had been teetering for a couple of minutes, then came all at once. A shout turned into a long, drawn out moan that was almost a cry, as he spilled his release in one, two, three bursts; biting his lip so hard, he’d discover later he’d drawn blood.

His arms gave out before he’d come back to himself, his lower half landing into the gooey puddle of expensive baking with a splat that would almost have been enough to get him half hard again if his soul hadn’t just shot out of his dick into a cake.

The blonde let out a deep, satisfied sigh, smiling dopily into the shiny, specialist bedsheet. Happy birthday to me, indeed.

Bakugou had only just had the energy to raise himself back onto his hands and knees when he had to find a little more to turn his head towards the door at the sound of it creaking open.

“Awh, did someone get you a birthday cake, babe?”

He nodded. You were back early.

You dropped your duffel on the floor, taking your first step towards the bed as you slid your shirt off with ease.

“Ooh, good - you saved some for me! I’m starving…”

#happy birthday bakugou!!! #my writing #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugou #katsuki #bakugo #bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader

[half-bakedboy]

one of the few things (read on ao3)

Pairing: Evan “Buck” Buckley/Eddie Diaz (& Eddie Diaz & Fire Fam) Rated: Gen Summary: “I want someone who’s going to take care of him, love him just as I would without babying him or making him feel like he can’t do things, you know? I want someone who is going to fight for him, not against him, who would literally go through hell for him because he deserves it--” Eddie cut himself off, but Hen didn’t need him to continue.

“You want it to be Buck.” Maybe she should’ve been more surprised or she should’ve asked the question instead of saying it so surely and causing the bit of panic that erupted in Eddie’s eyes, but it was obvious in everything Eddie was expressing.

Or five times that Eddie tells someone else that Buck is Christopher's legal guardian plus one time he finally tells Buck.

Contains spoilers from Season 4 Episode 14: Survivors.

One.

“Hey, Hen, can I, uh, grab you for a minute before…” Eddie trailed off and Hen narrowed her eyes at the rest of the team who had already started excitedly toward the loft. She turned to Eddie who looked… anxious. It instantly unnerved Hen as just a few days ago, he was trapped under forty feet of dirt and almost lost his life, and even then, he let it slide past as if it was nothing.

“Yeah, Eddie, what’s up?” She asked, following him into the changing room where he seemed to deliberate between settling on the bench and standing a few too many times for Hen not to intervene. She rested her hand gently on his arm and smiled openly at him, hoping it would at least get him to stop pacing. “I gotta admit, you’re acting really weird, Diaz,” Hen teased.

Eddie sighed and relented, sitting down as he said, “I shouldn’t be this nervous. Or scared. Or… Whatever is happening in my head.” Hen squeezed his bicep and hoped she looked as confused as she felt. She was sure she must have been missing important details she needed to comfort Eddie like she instinctively wanted to.

“Whatever it is, you can talk to me,” Hen urged, “or I can go get Buck—”

“No!” Eddie said abruptly and Hen’s eyebrows shot straight to her forehead at what she thought was an overreaction.

“Alright…” Hen said slowly, crossing her legs because she was entirely more intrigued than she had been before. If Eddie didn’t want to talk to his best friend, it must have been something secretive and Hen was all for gossip. “You gonna let me inside that crazy head of yours?” She asked once Eddie finally looked up at her.

“If something were to… happen, to you and Karen? Who gets Denny?” Eddie asked quickly like he was ripping the proverbial band-aid off of the conversation. Hen considered him for a moment; the way he refused to look in her eyes and how he rubbed his fingers against the scratches on his face absentmindedly.

“First it would be Karen’s sister. Then, if for some reason she couldn’t, it’s Athena and Michael,” Hen told him.

“And how did you… decide?” Eddie asked, twiddling with his thumbs in his lap which was a habit she had seen Buck do on occasion, but never Eddie.

“It wasn’t really a decision. Karen and her sister made that choice before they even had kids and she’s the kind of person who needs backup plans. Athena and Michael made the most sense after that,” Hen explained. There wasn’t some big talk about it between her and her wife. They trusted few people in their lives, especially with the upbringing of their children, so the choice was pretty obvious when they felt the need to make it. That need came pretty quickly into Hen’s career as a firefighter when she realized she wasn’t as invincible as either of them wanted it to be.

“How did—When did you—” Eddie groaned and scrubbed his hands over his face. “I don’t know what to say next,” he said honestly.

Hen rested a soft hand on his back and reassured him, “You almost died a few days ago, Eddie, it’s normal to put some more thought into these things.” He smiled sadly up at her and it tore into her heart. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re thinking right now?”

“I don’t even know, Hen, I—” Eddie stood and started pacing again before Hen could stop him. It seemed like he needed to move so Hen crossed her arms over her chest and let him. “When Shannon died, my parents tried to take Christopher from me. They—They came here under the guise of support for my son and I and they just—” Hen didn’t know that and now that she did, heat boiled under her skin. She knew exactly what it felt like to have family try to take the most important person to a parent away and all she wanted to do was wrap Eddie up in her arms.

“Your parents are Christopher’s legal guardian right now?” Eddie nodded and let out a huff of laughter.

“I’m not quite sure they wouldn’t try to kill me themselves to get Christopher back,” Eddie joked but it fell flat as Hen stared up at him. Before she could say anything else, Eddie spoke quickly, as if figuring things out in his own mind, “I want someone who’s going to take care of him, love him just as I would without babying him or making him feel like he can’t do things, you know? I want someone who is going to fight for him, not against him, who would literally go through hell for him because he deserves it--” Eddie cut himself off, but Hen didn’t need him to continue.

“You want it to be Buck.” Maybe she should’ve been more surprised or she should’ve asked the question instead of saying it so surely and causing the bit of panic that erupted in Eddie’s eyes, but it was obvious in everything Eddie was expressing. There was one thing she didn’t understand, though. “What’s holding you back?” She asked, patting the seat beside her so she could rest her hand on his knee. He relaxed at the touch.

“What if he doesn’t want that?” Eddie muttered. Hen gave him a look that easily told him he was insane if he thought Buck wouldn’t agree if he was asked. “Okay, then what if—What if it means more than I’m willing to… think about?” Eddie asked, pressing his lips together and glancing up at Hen as if he had just bared his entire soul to her. He might as well have.

She couldn’t hold back anymore and pulled him into the tightest hug she could without risking additional pain to his already stiff muscles. She had always wondered if they were more. She had wondered if the times Buck teased Eddie were his roundabout way of flirting or if those moments when Eddie’s eyes lingered a little too long on Buck when he dove headfirst into danger meant… more. She wouldn’t ask, though, knowing that it was a journey Eddie needed to begin on his own. She couldn’t start that for him, but she would help him in any way she could.

When she pulled back, she said, “I’ve got an attorney who specializes in these kinds of matters. I can give you his number and maybe he can help you out?” Eddie nodded again, seemingly grateful for no extra rounds of questioning, and rested his hand over Hen’s that still patted at his knee.

“Thanks, Hen, just—Thanks.” He let out a long breath just as Buck knocked on the glass surrounding them, gesturing up to the loft and rubbing his stomach to probably indicate lunch was ready. He ran up the steps, tripping on the first one and glancing around to make sure no one had noticed, sticking his tongue in their direction when he realized he’d been caught. Hen laughed, gripping onto Eddie’s bicep as they both stood.

“You sure that’s who you want to parent your kid?” Hen asked. No response came because Eddie was too busy watching Buck in the kitchen, the grin wide on his lips followed by his own hysterical laughter as someone undoubtedly made fun of him. Eddie shook his head and smiled down at the floor before glancing up at Hen, blushing when he realized he had been caught lingering.

“I’ve never been more sure.”

Two.

If Carla was asked to choose her favorite clients, she would say it was impossible, but really, her answer was easy. The two men in front of her had spent the day together and still both were hesitating at leaving the residence. They had some more time, but they didn’t want to spend it away from each other, that much was clear. Carla also understood because if she was asked, she would easily say the Diaz-Buckley’s--as she so fondly called them in her mind.

“There’s some yogurt in the bottom drawer that Christopher doesn’t know about, so if he gets all of his homework done, he can have that as a treat before dinner,” Eddie instructed, glancing over to where Buck was leaning against the counter, his legs crossed and his arms over his chest as he stared at Eddie fondly.

“Yes, dad, I know the rules. I’ll make sure he finishes his homework before I let him raid the sugar drawer and spoil his dinner so that you have the hardest time getting him to bed,” Buck teased, winking at Carla as Eddie tossed the empty roll of paper towels in his direction. Buck caught it and sent a glare at Eddie, tossing it in the garbage like the well-oiled machine they always were. “You never let us have any fun,” Buck complained, pouting at Eddie who just rolled his eyes in response.

“Now, boys, don’t make me put you both in time out,” Carla chastised, her eyes darting between both of them playfully.

“Now you’re just threatening us with a good time, Carla,” Buck teased, pressing a kiss to her cheek as he walked past to grab his keys. “I figured Christopher and I could stop on the way home from school and grab some ingredients to make dinner together. You’ll be home by then, right?” He directed at Eddie who nodded almost shyly in return.

“Yeah, the meeting is at three and I don’t think it’ll take longer than two hours or so if everything goes as planned,” Eddie guessed, sliding his shoes on and nudging his shoulder into Buck’s when the other man tried to knock him over. Carla watched on affectionately, leaning her hip against the counter and raising her eyebrows at them as they turned, their arms pressed together even though there was plenty of room on either side of them.

“I’m gonna go get your kid. Good luck?” Buck offered and Eddie laughed, pulling him into a brief hug that, if Carla had to guess, he wanted to hold onto a little longer.

“Yeah, thanks, I appreciate you taking care of him,” Eddie said nervously, holding Buck at arm’s length and gazing up at him as if they were the only two people in the world. Carla wondered when they would start to realize they shared that look every time they saw each other.

“You know I’d drop everything for that kid, Eds,” Buck noted easily, patting Eddie’s cheek as he made his way out of the front door. When it shut, Eddie let out a deep breath and turned back to Carla who gave him what she hoped was a knowing look.

“You gonna tell me why we’re going to see this attorney now, Eddie?” Carla asked, raising her eyebrows at Eddie as his cheeks turned pink.

“After the well incident, I started doing some thinking…” Eddie trailed off and Carla just waited for his explanation. “I hadn’t really thought about my will since I left El Paso. I should’ve when Shannon died, but—”

“You were grieving,” Carla immediately interjected, knowing that Eddie still blamed himself for that-- and everything else--that wasn’t in his control. He glanced up at her and smiled before leaning back against the counter opposite Carla.

“I figured it was about time to think about it again so, Hen, our coworker, connected me with a local attorney who specializes in estate planning,” Eddie continued as if that explained exactly what they were doing. Carla nodded her head to urge him on and he took a deep breath as if preparing himself before he spoke again. “I’m going to make Buck Christopher’s legal guardian if anything were to happen to me,” he admitted, his eyes darting to Carla’s as if waiting for some big response.

“You said the meeting is at three, so we should probably be going,” Carla said, clapping her hands together as she stepped away from the counter.

“Wait, that’s it? You’re not going to question me or—or tell me to consider someone else?” Eddie asked. It was like he was repeating what someone else had already said, trying and failing to talk himself out of the decision that Carla couldn’t agree more with.

“You know your child better than anyone else, Eddie Diaz, and I’ve seen the way that man,” she gestured toward the front door where Buck had just left, “cares for your son. You’ve witnessed it more than any of us. If you believe that he is the best choice for Christopher if—God forbid—anything happens to his daddy, then it’s the right choice,” she finished, leaving no room for argument. Eddie nodded, staring up at her with wide eyes that shined with gratefulness and love. Carla held his face in her hands and nodded back reassuringly, hoping her words reverberated through that thick skull he had.

“You sure you don’t mind coming with me?” Eddie asked. “I—I want you to be there for this,�� he added as if he needed to make sure she knew it. She did. She knew that she was just as important to the Diaz-Buckley family as they were to her and wondered how she ever got so lucky.

“I’m by your side through it all, right?” Carla reiterated, holding out her hand for Eddie to grab and dragging him through the door. They had a will to change.

Three.

“Hey, Cap, can you spare a minute?” Eddie asked, peeking his head into Bobby’s office with a feather-light rap of his knuckles on the door. Bobby gestured for him to have a seat and when Eddie shut the door behind him, Bobby had to admit he was a bit nervous by the sudden meeting.

“Everything okay, Eddie?” The nod he received in return did nothing to reassure Bobby when he saw the papers in Eddie’s hands.

“Everything is great, Cap. I’m feeling completely back in the game after the…” Eddie trailed off as if he couldn’t even mention the well and Bobby didn’t blame him. Everyone was still on edge from the fear they had felt that day, Bobby included. “I just wanted to talk to you about something,” Eddie began with a deep breath.

“You don’t have to be nervous, kid. Whatever you have to say, we’ll get through it,” Bobby reassured, leaning back in his chair to prepare himself for another member of his family to take their leave. It had hurt when Buck had looked him in the eyes and said those dreaded words, but he had almost been expecting them, but he always knew Buck would be back. Eddie looking in the same direction was a surprise that he wasn’t sure how he would handle. He wasn’t sure how Buck would handle it.

As if sensing Bobby’s own nervous energy, Eddie’s eyes darted to the papers in his hands and back up to his captain’s in panic. “Oh, no! No no no! This isn’t— Fuck, Bobby, I’m sorry. I’m not quitting if that’s what you’re thinking!” Eddie reassured and Bobby would be lying if he said his heart didn’t stop beating for a moment, so he was glad to feel it pump back up.

“That’s incredibly relieving to hear, Diaz,” Bobby said honestly, leaning forward onto his elbows placed on the desk. “Then…?” Bobby asked, holding out one hand for the papers that were slightly crumpled in Eddie’s tight grasp.

“Oh, yeah, I—” As if not knowing how to explain it himself, Eddie held out the papers, crushing them into Bobby’s hand. He had to smooth them out to read even the first sentence.

Last Will and Testament of Edmundo Diaz

Bobby glanced up at Eddie to ask what all of that was about, but Eddie just lowered his eyes to the papers as if pleading for Bobby to read so he didn’t have to explain out loud. Bobby nodded and continued scanning through the all too familiar words before a name caught his eye.

“In the event I shall die as the sole parent or guardian of my minor child, then I appoint Evan Buckley as legal guardian of said minor child,” Bobby read, hoping his shock wasn’t too prevalent on his face. He glanced back up at Eddie who was smiling almost proudly after hearing the words aloud. “Eddie, this is—”

“I’m sure about it, Bobby. No one is going to take care of that kid better than Buck would,” Eddie said quickly and defensively. Bobby rested a hand on the back of Eddie’s that had clenched into an anxious fist on the desk between them.

“I was going to say that this is a great honor for him,” Bobby said slowly, leaning his head down so that Eddie would look at him. “Why are you giving this to me, though?”

“Everyone who needs one has a copy. My attorney, my abuela, my doctor, and Carla, just to be safe,” Eddie explained. Bobby couldn’t help but notice there was a very important person absent from that list. He didn’t need to say anything as Eddie sighed, squeezing his eyes shut. “I can’t tell him yet, it's just—It’s not the right time… for us.”

The us was louder than Bobby thought Eddie had intended it to be.

“I’ll keep this in your file, but you know I have to urge you to tell him before it’s my responsibility,” Bobby said. “You know better than any of us that in this job, things can go wrong faster than they can go right again. Buck isn’t going to let you down with this,” Bobby promised because he truly believed it. He thought that Eddie did, too.

“I know and I’ll tell him. When the time is right,” Eddie said with a nod. He stood up and wandered to the door, turning back to his captain with another small smile on his lips as he added, “And thank you. What you think means the world to both Buck and I which is why I—” Bobby nodded in understanding and opened his bottom drawer to file the important paperwork away.

“Hey, it’s what I’m here for,” Bobby said before adding, just for good measure, “remember that.”

Four.

Maddie watched her brother cradle her newborn child in his arms and a warmth she had never known before spread throughout her entire body. Eddie was leaning over, wiggling his finger above her face before gliding it delicately down the bridge of her nose and her pouty lips, her eyes mesmerized by the motion. He let her grab onto it, his face feigning pain as if her small form could ever inflict it. Maddie couldn’t help but notice how Buck was staring at Eddie at that moment and was almost too focused on what a perfect little family they would make when Chim walked in with an armful of drinks.

“So, do we get to tell him now, or…” Chim asked excitedly, smacking his hands on his thighs as he sat on the couch. Buck refused to hand the baby off to anyone else, cradling her in one arm as he used the other to take a large gulp of the lemonade Chim brought out. Eddie watched them carefully as if making sure Buck didn’t drop her while simultaneously eyeing the way his throat bobbed and she suppressed a laugh behind closed lips.

“Tell him what?” Eddie asked, taking a sip of his own drink and gulping almost nervously. Maddie tilted her head at him, asking him silently if everything was okay and he nodded in response, smiling softly at her.

“Well, Buck, as you know, Jee-Yun here is very lucky to have two parents who love her in her life, that will do anything in the world for her,” Maddie began, resting her arm on Chim’s shoulder and gesturing for him to continue just as they had practiced.

“You also know that literally no tomorrow is guaranteed,” Chim said solemnly, reaching to brush his finger down Jee-Yun’s arm. She instinctively reached out to her father and Maddie’s heart squeezed in her chest.

“We were hoping that you would accept the honor of being Jee-Yun’s god—”

“Yes! Oh my god, are you kidding me?!” Buck interrupted, his eyes darting from Maddie, to Jee-Yun, and over to Eddie who had a smile on his face that looked... fake if Maddie had to put a word to it.

“This is a gift that can be taken away at any time, Buckley, remember that, but yes. We want this for her, both of us,” Chim said, holding onto Maddie’s hand and staring up at Buck seriously. No matter what Chim would say, he didn’t need nearly as much convincing as Maddie had been prepared to do to make Buck Jee-Yun’s godfather. It was either him or Albert and neither of them was about to leave that responsibility to the person still sleeping on their couch.

“You’re not gonna judge me if I cry, right?” Buck asked, sniffling exaggeratedly and holding Jee-Yun even closer to him. He looked down at her like she was his world and everyone in the room knew it was true. Maddie couldn’t help but glance back at Eddie who still had that faux smile plastered on his lips. She tried not to be offended as she walked by him, knocking her knee against his and gesturing for him to follow her to the kitchen.

Buck pulled her into a one-armed hug and kissed her cheek before she could pass, whispering words of thanks into her ear. Before they could get too far, he grabbed Eddie’s arm and raised the baby up as if offended he could possibly leave the room without saying goodbye. Eddie pressed his lips gently against Jee-Yun’s outstretched hand and for a moment, Maddie thought Buck was going to toss their friendship out of the window and kiss him even though he had his godchild in his arms. Instead, he let Maddie pull Eddie away.

She crossed her arms over her chest and raised her eyebrows expectantly. When he didn’t speak up and actively avoided her gaze, she spat, “Spill it, Diaz.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Eddie said, mimicking Maddie’s pose and narrowing his eyes in her direction.

“Don’t pull that with me, Eddie. I saw that flash of worry before you pretended to be happy my kid had a kickass godfather, so spill or I bring Buck in here to—”

“No, don’t—!” Eddie sighed, and pushed off of the counter, pulling Maddie further into the kitchen so they were out of sight of Chim and Buck. “He can’t know, not yet.”

“Can’t know what? That you’re in love with him and want him to have your babies?” Maddie teased, eyes widening when Eddie didn’t even bother to convince her otherwise. “Oh my god, I knew it!” She yelled, smacking Eddie a few times in excitement. He rolled his eyes at her, a look she had seen directed at her brother more times than not, but she wasn’t worried, because there was too much affection in the gaze.

“Good to know both Buckley’s need to be the loudest person in the room,” Eddie noted, peeking around the corner to make sure the other two were still preoccupied.

“You can’t insult us anymore, now that I know for sure that you love him!” Maddie squealed, holding onto Eddie’s arm that was crossed over his chest again. “But wait, that doesn’t explain why you’re so…” She mouthed an exaggerated frown and furrowed her eyebrows to mimic his face only for him to roll his eyes again.

“I didn’t look like that,” Eddie complained.

“You’re doing it right now,” Maddie said, pushing at the wrinkles in between his eyes with her index finger so that he might relax his face. He laughed and swatted her hand away, but didn’t let it go far. He held it carefully in his, staring down at her fingers like he was avoiding her questioning. “What’s going on, Eddie?” She asked quietly, ducking her head so he would look at her.

“Remember a few months ago when…” He trailed off and Maddie immediately knew what he was talking about. “I almost didn’t make it out and all I could think about was my kid. You get that now, right?” Eddie asked, nodding his head over to where Buck had finally given Jee-Yun back to her father. Maddie knew exactly what he meant. Nothing else was more important than Jee-Yun anymore.

“What does that have to do with my brother?” Maddie asked. She didn’t mean it to sound unkind, but Eddie blushed and ducked his head again and she was worried that maybe she had pushed just a little too hard. Buck had warned her that Eddie was like that sometimes; open until he wasn’t, guarding every little piece of him to protect himself and Christopher. She had yet to see it but hadn’t yet had the opportunity to really bond with him. She knew that moment was as important as it felt.

“I haven’t told Buck,” Eddie warned before continuing, “but after everything that happened, I decided to make him Christopher’s legal guardian in the case that I… die.” Maddie’s jaw dropped open and she had to hold her hands back or risk smacking him again.

“And Buck doesn’t know this?” Maddie asked because she couldn’t have heard him correctly. Why wouldn’t Eddie have told him? It made absolutely no sense in her mind and her blank stare must have clued him in.

“If I tell him, I have to admit that maybe my reasoning isn’t ‘hey, my best friend should be the one to take care of the most important thing in my life’ and more…” He trailed off with a sigh and repeated Maddie’s earlier words, “more that I'm in love with him and want him to actually have my babies.” The admission made Maddie burst into hysterics, Eddie throwing his hand over her mouth before the other two could hear them. It was too late, though, because Buck wandered around the corner, concern in his eyes.

“I know you and Chim aren’t married yet, but he’s like… right there, Mads,” Buck joked, gesturing over his shoulder where Chim was too focused making faces at Jee-Yun to care about what was happening in the kitchen. His eyes darted back and forth between the two of them with not as much playfulness in them as his words insinuated. Maddie pushed Eddie away with a laugh and a smack to his arm causing him to roll his eyes again.

“Watch it, Buckley, or I might make my new favorite firefighter Jee-Yun’s godfather,” Maddie threatened with a wink at Eddie before she waltzed toward her brother. When she was close enough, she whispered, “Jealousy is a new look for you.” She barely avoided the hand that swatted at her as she went to go hold her baby, leaving the two of them to talk.

She tried not to focus on the way Buck and Eddie worked so easily around each other or how Eddie treated Buck like he was something of utmost importance. She had also never seen her brother fit so perfectly to someone else’s side and the two of them together, playing with Jee-Yun and handing her back and forth until she fell asleep, was almost too much for her heart to bear.

As they said their goodbyes, Maddie pulled Eddie closed and whispered, “The way you saw Buck look at Jee-Yun tonight? It’s the same way I’ve seen him look at Christopher.” Eddie nodded back, his eyes shining in agreement like he didn’t need to be told twice. “He deserves to know,” Maddie urged softly, squeezing his arms as she pulled away.

“I’ll tell him about Christopher, I will,” Eddie promised, glancing over to where Buck placed multiple small kisses to Jee-Yun’s sleeping face.

“Tell him about you, too, okay?” Maddie asked, patting his cheek gently. “He looks at you the same way you look at him.” Eddie seemed too stunned to respond and by the time he pulled himself out of it, Buck was tossing his arm around Eddie’s neck and leaning into him sleepily.

“Ready to head home?” Buck asked as if home was the same place for both of them.

“Yeah, I am,” Eddie responded easily. With one last glance back, he mouthed his silent thanks at Maddie who nodded back and smiled warmly at him.

Once the door shut, Chim wrapped his free arm around her waist and muttered, “We made the right choice, huh?” Maddie smiled, that warmth in her chest spreading further as she glanced at the love of her life holding her infant, then to the door where the first person she had ever loved more than herself had exited.

“We all did.”

Five.

Eddie wasn’t expecting the question when it came. He was eating breakfast with Christopher who had spent the majority of his morning complaining that they had run out of his favorite cereal. He half considered asking Carla to pick some up on her way over, but Christopher settled for eggs and toast and was chatting away about his new friends at school, so he let himself space out. Eddie was not much of a morning person.

“…And Alyssa lives with her grandma because her parents couldn’t take care of her. Mrs. Quinn said sometimes that happens and kids have to go live with other people,” Christopher explained and Eddie nodded in response, not really paying attention to the conversation in favor of spacing out at the full plate in front of him.

“That’s great, buddy,” he said absentmindedly, compiling a grocery list in his head that he would have to find the energy to do after his shift. He was grateful that Buck had offered to spend some time with Christopher this weekend because that meant he might be able to get a nap in when they inevitably played Punch Planet.

“Who would take care of me if you couldn’t?” Christopher asked and Eddie froze. He continued to stare down at his plate, his eyes wide as he let the question echo through his mind. “Dad?” Christopher asked.

“I, uh—Sorry, kid, what was that?” Eddie asked even though he had heard the question quite clearly. He just wasn’t sure how to answer.

“Who would take care of me if you couldn’t?” Eddie cleared his throat and tried to come up with an answer. Turns out, Eddie didn’t have to because Christopher already had the perfect one. “I think it should be Buck,” he decided, nodding his head as he grabbed another forkful of eggs.

Eddie’s head shot up and he gaped over at Christopher as he squeaked, “You do?” Something about Christopher agreeing with the enormous decision Eddie grappled over for weeks had his heart beating out of his chest even though he shouldn’t have been so surprised.

“Yeah,” Christopher began as he swallowed his eggs, “he would still make me do my homework before I could have dessert, but he would play video games with me and help me do really cool things.”

And wasn’t it really that simple? Buck would treat Christopher exactly how he deserved and nothing more or less. Eddie had seen it for almost a year—longer if he allowed himself to think about it—and Christopher obviously had no issues with it. Buck fit into their family just as he was, with no expectations or exceptions. Suddenly, Eddie wasn’t sure why he was so nervous to let Buck in on the secret he had held so close to him for such a long time.

“Would you like that? If Buck were to be the one to take care of you?” Eddie asked almost shyly.

“Buck already takes care of me,” Christopher decided and yeah, he was right. Buck already took care of Christopher— and Eddie—so it only made sense. Eddie had known that, but to get confirmation from his son was everything he could have wanted it to be. “Only if you can’t,” Christopher added sternly as if it needed to be said. Eddie let out a huff of laughter, reaching across the table to pat Christopher’s hand softly.

“Yeah, only if I can’t,” Eddie confirmed, “and we’re going to hope that never happens, okay?” Christopher seemed satisfied with that and nodded, taking a bite of his toast and turning his hand so he could hold his dad’s tightly. Eddie wasn’t sure what he had done right in his life to deserve the family he had—Buck included—but he wasn’t about to question it, not when things were so good.

Plus one.

Eddie had been shot. A bullet found its way through Eddie’s shoulder while his blood splattered onto Buck’s face, a heat he wished he could forget but was etched into his mind. He had done his best to keep Eddie alive in the firetruck, pressing his hand to the gaping wound while the other hovered uselessly over his face, a shouted reassurance that they were almost to help. To Buck’s utmost relief, the surgeons had saved him, and he was grateful he was with Christopher when he got the news.

The waiting was the worst of it. He stayed with Christopher because he couldn’t go home without knowing that Eddie’s son was safe each night and every morning and they waited together. Christopher woke him up most days which he tried not to beat himself up about. He did feel a little guilty for how much he apparently snored as Christopher would not stop pointing it out, but he was okay with being the butt of the joke because it meant that Christopher was smiling even though Eddie had still not woken up.

When he got the news Eddie was conscious, it took everything in him not to spend every waking moment at his bedside. He updated Eddie on Christopher’s schoolwork, what he had for breakfast and dinner each day, even little details that he was sure the father didn’t care about, but Eddie listened to them all. He stared over at Buck with so much appreciation in his eyes and Buck almost couldn’t stand it. Not when he had messed up and Eddie didn’t know.

“He doing okay?” Eddie asked, waiting until after he was sure the video call had ended. Christopher had a bright smile on his face that matched the joyous laughter that left his lips the moment he saw his father, but they all knew the last few days had to have been tough on him.

“Better than me,” Buck huffed, “I, uh, kind of lost it when I told him you got shot,” Buck admitted when he couldn’t hold it in any longer. Eddie was falling asleep, his eyes blinking slowly as if trying to keep them open. Buck wanted to stroke his hand over Eddie’s hair and kiss his forehead until he let himself dream again. “I’m sorry, I—should’ve held it together.”

“You were there for him when I couldn’t be. That’s what matters,” Eddie said simply, but that wasn’t enough. He wasn’t enough for Christopher and no one could be except for his father who was currently in a hospital bed for the second time since Buck had known him.

“Still,” Buck began, “I think it might’ve been better for him if I was the one who got shot.” If looks could kill, Buck would’ve taken Eddie’s spot in that bed. Eddie tried to sit himself up as if preparing himself to chastise the man beside him for his words, but Buck retracted them quickly, sensing the discomfort it had Eddie feeling. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—Just get some rest, Eddie, you can yell at me later,” Buck promised, finally relenting to his urges and grabbing Eddie’s hand in his. The touch relaxed Eddie and Buck decided not to think of what that could mean.

He left before Eddie could have the chance to make due on the promise and when Buck could finally come back, Eddie didn’t seem to be in the mood for yelling. He looked too serious considering that’s all anyone had been for the last few days. The sniper was caught and at home, Christopher and the rest of Eddie’s family were preparing to welcome him with the warmth he deserved after his time in the hospital. Eddie patted the bed next to him, said he had been meaning to talk to Buck and it was like ice shot through his entire body.

“So, you might have noticed I almost died. Again,” Eddie said as if it wasn’t playing on repeat in Buck’s head every time he closed his damn eyes. “Yeah, I’ve had a lot of close calls. This one wasn’t even my closest,” he pointed out as a huff of laughter escaped his lips.

“Eddie…” Buck began, but Eddie shook his head.

“Just let me finish?” Eddie pleaded, finally glancing up at Buck with a softness in his eyes Buck wasn’t prepared for. Buck quieted. “After the last time, when that well collapsed on top of me—”

“Which you survived,” Buck pointed out, pressing his lips together when Eddie glared over at him. There wasn’t nearly enough heat in it, but Buck opted to really let him continue that time.

“After that, it got me thinking—you know, what would happen to Christopher if I hadn’t?” Buck was about to interrupt again, reminding him of all of the people—including himself—that wouldn’t hesitate to take care of Christopher, but the words got caught in his throat because he couldn’t imagine a life without Eddie in it just yet. “So, I went to my attorney and changed my will. So someday if I, uh, didn't make it... Christopher would be taken care of. By you.”

“What?” Buck asked through bated breath. He lost the steady beat of his heart, the comforting rise and fall of his chest, and the ability to control the way his hands shook in his lap at the admission. Eddie seemed to notice and turned toward him, holding his trembling fingers in one hand and avoiding Buck’s eyes once again. Buck couldn’t figure out why he wasn’t looking at him, opting instead to stare at the plain white floor as if the tiles were more interesting than the life-changing news he had just shared.

“It's in my will that if I die, you become Christopher's legal guardian,” Eddie explained simply. He said the words with such a clear voice, so sure that it was the right decision, and Buck couldn’t think enough to argue against it.

“I mean, h-how—How does that even work? Don't you—Don’t you need my consent?” Buck stuttered, his mouth barely able to catch up with all of the questions racing through his mind.

“My attorney said you could refuse,” Eddie noted, an upturn to his lips that almost had Buck laughing.

“You know I wouldn’t,” Buck finished for him.

“Nah, I know you wouldn’t,” Eddie said as if proud that he was right. Buck felt a warmth spread throughout him at the thought of Eddie innately knowing him so well. Then all he could think about were reasons why what Eddie was saying didn’t make any sense.

“I mean, he--he has grandparents, other family,” Buck began, but Eddie just shook his head again and held Buck’s hands tighter in his. He could finally feel them settle and equated that to Eddie’s calming touch.

“Yeah,” he let out a dry laugh, “after Shannon left, they all tried to guilt me into giving Christopher to them. It's not what I wanted then, it's not what I want now.” If Buck knew anything about Eddie, it was that when he knew what he wanted, nothing was going to change that. The way Eddie stared so firmly at their entwined hands both scared him and elated him.

Buck hated thinking about it already, but he had to ask, “ If it came to that, w-wouldn't they fight for him?” Eddie considered the question for a moment, but only a brief one.

“I don't know. Maybe. Probably.” When Eddie finally glanced away from their hands, Buck saw the worry clouding his muted eyes. He wasn’t sure how to make it go away and that killed him almost more than seeing Eddie lying just out of reach. “But no one will ever fight for my son as hard as you. That is what I want for him.” There was nothing Buck could say in return, because there was no denying it. Buck would do anything for that kid, but he still had one more question.

“Well, you said you did this last year. Why are you just telling me now?” As if Eddie had expected and dreaded the question, he glanced away from Buck once more, removing his hands from Buck’s slowly. Buck wished he hadn’t.

“Because, Evan,” Eddie began and Buck was sure that was the first time Eddie had used his given name. He had always hated it. It was a token that his parents had given him that they treated like a gift and he usually wanted nothing to do with it, but coming from Eddie’s mouth, it sounded like music. “You came in here the other day and you said you thought it would have been better if it had been you who was shot.” He shook his head and stared at the wall in front of him. Buck tried to meet his eyes, but Eddie wouldn’t budge, letting out a long sigh.

“You act like you're expendable, but you're wrong.”

Buck had never felt a surge of emotions quite as strong as the ones that rushed through him at those words. When Eddie finally pulled his eyes away from the blank wall to meet Buck’s gaze, his eyes held everything Buck had ever wanted to see. The years he spent gaining Eddie’s friendship, his trust, his love, had amounted to something more than Buck had ever expected it to. His eyes screamed that Eddie loved him back.

“Why are you just telling me now?” Buck repeated because as much as he appreciated the answer he received--and would be thinking about it like a spiral in his mind for as long as he lived--there was something more held in Eddie’s gaze and Buck wanted that just as bad.

Eddie cupped Buck’s face in his uninjured hand, licking his lips before he admitted, “Because I’m ready .” It was as if both of them could finally breathe as Eddie explained, “For us to be more. That is, if you—” Buck didn’t let him finish. He moved carefully forward, pressing their lips together gently, twin sighs leaving their mouths as they finally— finally —took that extra step forward.

It was a leap both of them were ready to take, one that Buck had waited for since the moment he saw Eddie’s strength, his bravery, his loyalty, his love. It was that final jump into each other’s arms that meant they were nothing if not family. Eddie had just taken it a year sooner than Buck had expected and that was completely okay with him.

#buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #henrietta wilson #chimney han #maddie buckley #bobby nash #carla price #christopher diaz #buddie fic #buck x eddie #eddie x buck #911 #911 on fox #I love this fic #so i hope you do too!!! #my writing #911 spoilers

[imkylotrash]

Wary Hearts

Pairing: Saul Silva x reader

Request: Harvey and Dowling finds out Saul is dating a student and worries about the dynamic in the relationship. So does reader’s friends (OC characters). So, they all decide to follow them hidden by magic but as they watch Saul and reader, they can’t help but be proven wrong. Anonymous

A/N There were a lot of details in the request so I shortened the summary down so as not to give everything away. I hope it’s what you had in mind, my darling anon 💛 Also, I just want to make a disclaimer because I haven’t done that in a while. The reader will always be of age in the fics involving Saul (or any older characters) and the teacher/student relationship is purely fiction 💛

Tagging: @grey-girl @intoanothermind @anreeixcobra @kingunder221b @lflores2008 @alexiapayne12 @quuenofblacks @quarterback-5 @estelmei @bitchwhytho @music-of-melody @artsyle​ @baueoud @glowingatdawn @shadowhuntyi​ 

Perhaps if you were more alert, you’d notice the two people following you to the East Wing where you know Saul is waiting for you. There’s really no excuse for you considering you’re a mind fairy and can literally feel their feelings. You’re too caught up with getting to your destination though to notice them. Your powers are focused on reaching out and sensing Saul’s mind. Nothing offers you peace the way he does. 

If you were more alert, you might notice the group of fairies watching from a distance as you go to hug Saul but Kiera has used her light magic to hide them from being seen. Both you and Saul remain oblivion to the many people watching your secret date unfold. Farah and Harvey watching worried about the dynamic between a teacher and a student and whether it’s actually real or perhaps a relationship created to benefit one part without the other part knowing. In short, they’re worried about their friend. The scandal of dating a student will be bad enough but what if this was all for show. What if you truly didn’t care for him but instead thought this would be a good way to ensure passing your graduation. Dowling didn’t want to think like that but she couldn’t help herself. Saul was one of her oldest friends and she wanted to make sure he wasn’t about to make a mistake. 

In the other corner, Kiera, Adelaide and Max stood watching for any signs that it was the other way around. They worried that Saul might take advantage of you. Even if you were old enough to make your own decisions, it could still be hard to say no when an older man approached you. They needed to see your relationship first hand to check if they needed to intervene. 

Perhaps you would’ve noticed them spotting each other and having a whisper battle as to what they were both doing spying on the two of you. But you were caught up in your conversation with Saul and didn’t notice the world around you. He was talking about a hunt he’d done once going after a Burned One and while you hated knowing the danger he’d put himself in, you really enjoyed listening to his stories. He had this passion in his eyes when he spoke of hunts and missions that you just loved. The exact same way, he loved seeing the spark in your eyes when you got to talking about Earth music. You could talk for hours and only cover the greatest hits of the 90′s. Both of you didn’t really care much for the topics but seeing each other light up with passion meant everything. 

“So, I run after Karan yelling for him to stop. But he’s not listening and he almost runs right into the Burned One. I had to drag him back and the Burned One missed him by inches.” Absentmindedly, Saul is playing with the rings on your fingers spinning them around. It’s a habit he’s picked up when he has nothing to occupy his hands with. He feels foreign without a sword in his hand like a fish out of water so you don’t have the heart to move your hands. Besides, you love having him touch you. 

“What happened then?” you ask instead of listening in on the conversation happening not even 20 feet away. The two groups agree to an alliance both watching over you to make sure you’re both happy. 

“I saved his life. Killed the Burned One,” Saul smirks acting all tough before adding: “I did have the help of five other specialists, but the details aren’t that important.” 

“Of course,” you agree with a laugh. A comfortable silence settles over the two of you as he pulls out sandwiches that he definitely didn’t make himself. 

“It’s not much but I didn’t really have much warning for this impromptu date, did I?” he teases. You’ve been studying like crazy for the exams and you haven’t been able to settle on dates before the actual date. Today, you’d texted him twenty minutes before the date to let him know that you were going to be there. He’d been more than patient with your school work and you had a suspicion that he actually found it to be a little of a turn on just how serious you took school. There’d been times where the tables had been turned and he had been the one not being able to commit due to meetings and missions. There was a mutual respect for each other’s careers that you really appreciated. You wanted to be able to make your own decisions in life and not worry that he felt threatened by your success or like you had to take a backseat so he could thrive. There was room for both of you and you loved him for that. 

“I think it’s perfect,” you say digging into the sandwiches. You spend the evening enjoying each other exchanging kisses every once in a while and never letting go of each other. Either you have your hand on his thigh or he intertwines his fingers with yours. It’s very obvious that your love language is physical touch. 

“I finished that book you gave me,” you inform him with a smile. He raises his eyebrows in surprise. 

“I gave it to you a week ago.” You shrug your shoulders thinking back to have you speed-read the book to make sure you had time next to your studies. 

“Well, you did promise me something for when I finished it.” You crawl into his lap and kiss the spot right below his ear. You never would’ve done this if you knew that your best friends as well as your teachers were watching, but it’s what they need to see to realise just how madly in love the two of you are. 

“I really missed you this week,” you admit continuing your trail of kisses down his jawline and then passing over his lips. 

“If this is the way you greet me after a week, we’ll have to do this more often.” You chuckle kissing him once more. 

“They do say absence makes the heart grow fonder.” You’re carefully unbuttoning his shirt which seems to be your audience’s cue to leave and quickly. None of them want to see what transpires next. They don’t stay long enough to hear the “I love you’s” said afterwards but seeing the two of you together so naturally and intimate says it all. You really are just two people who fell madly in love with each other. 

You don’t hear the discussion once they’re out of earshot regarding what they just witnessed. You don’t hear them admitting that they were definitely wrong to worry something indecent was going on. When they part that night, they’ve all agreed to keep their mouths shut. No one will speak of this until you and Saul decide it’s time to share the news. And when you finally do share it with them, they all act surprised and happy for the two of you. It’s not necessary to say out loud that they’ll never ever admit to their wary hearts when they first found out about you and the worries they had. All they say is congratulations because their best friends are finally happy. They can’t ask for more. 

#saul silva imagine #saul silva gif #saul silva blurb #saul silva x reader #saul silva #winx saul #winx saul silva #fate the winx club #fate the winx saga #winx saga #fate winx club #winx club #fate winx #fate netflix #fate #ftws blurb #ftws imagine #ftws

[phantomphangphucker]

Phic Phight - I Tried But Not In Time

For: @ave-aria

Lancer just wanted to help, but sometimes being ‘helpful’ just gets people killed. Especially when there are already dead, or half-dead, people involved.

Lancer considered himself a decent man, a good teacher, and an overall respectable member of society. He did his part, paid his taxes, and helped the next generations thrive. In many ways he did more for society and humanity than most did, even if he hardly got the pay or recognition he likely deserved. But he didn’t really care about those things, the children were what he cared about; their future and their happiness. It saddened him when there were some kids he couldn’t help and gutted him when there were others he merely failed to help.

Daniel wasn’t one he couldn’t help and he refused to let the boy be one he failed. Not this one. Not the boy once so filled with life and a positive bright future; even if it was a bit over-ambitious. Not the brother to the most brilliant child he’s ever meet. Not the son of the people that, while strange, helped defend this town. Not someone who could do well and thrive but wasn’t, not through any fault of their own intellect or the school structure or home life, but simply a lack of effort and drive. A bit of missing commitment.

Lancer gave him a bit of a pass -maybe he shouldn’t have- after that accident of his for the first while that school year; it was perfectly reasonable to be a bit lazy while recovering from any sort of accident, good even. But the boy merely got worse, not better. At first he suspected that his parents were going easier on him due to guilt -it was their invention that hurt him after all- and were thus slacking in the discipline department. So he had tried disciplining the boy, not only had that proven entirely ineffective but somehow also practically impossible to do. No amount of locked doors kept him in detention or his office. No amount of grabbing his arm to drag him to classes would stop him from literally slipping through his fingers. Verbal scolding didn’t even seem to do more than make him embarrassed or nervous; he’d sit and take it but nothing would change.

What really caught Lancer was spotting one of the many many times -he’s sure it’s extremely often- Dashiel had pinned Daniel to a locker by the shirt, holding him above the ground by a solid foot. Lancer was going to intervene, knowing full well Dashiel would deny anything was wrong and would act ‘all buddy buddy’ with Daniel, but he’d noticed Daniel’s hand on Dashiel’s wrist, the other hand curled into a fist. Daniel actively wanted to punch the other teen. But... he didn’t. He restrained himself. Practiced good self-control. Self-discipline perhaps. So maybe discipline wasn’t the issue.

So he took a different route. He tried very literally sitting down and watching Daniel closely, giving him one on one help with his work and... it helped! The teen did fairly well immediately! Lancer thought that this little success would be enough to restart Daniel’s drive and willingness to put in the work, the effort; since that seemed to really be all he actually needed to do.

But it wasn’t to be.

That sort of success only ever repeated itself when Lancer sat Daniel down and helped him one on one. If it wasn’t for the teen lacking all other signs he would have suspected some kind of learning disability, caused by the accident perhaps, but he was otherwise normal if a bit paranoid. And Lancer certainly wasn’t revisiting that attempting to send the teen into therapy event again, that had made things actively worse and Lancer doesn’t exactly... trust therapists these days.

Then the frequent growing tardies and skipping entirely made him think that maybe Daniel really truly didn’t care unless he was very literally forced to.

And now... now there were the C.A.T’s coming up and Lancer was out of time to help the teen. This was entirely in Daniel’s hands and maybe Jasmine’s a little as well, he doesn’t doubt she’ll help him with studying. Maybe she’ll even sit him down and make him study? Sadly though, if she hasn’t done that yet he doubts she ever really will. Unfortunate, truly unfortunate.

But then... the answer sheet went missing and Lancer could think of one, and only one, student who could seemingly slip through solid objects and move as if invisible: Daniel. And Lancer is perfectly well aware that Daniel wasn’t the most... law-abiding individual and was absolutely not above cheating, theft, or trickery. Lancer usually let that slide because Dashiel truly deserved it and he’s pretty sure that one time the teen locked him in a closet was a fluke; he thinks the teen's eyes might have been red actually...

But stealing test answers was absolutely unacceptable.

“But Mr. Lancer, you still have no proof Danny took the test answers“.

Judging by the way she cringed, Lancer’s fairly certain he’s right. Regardless, he technically doesn’t have real physical on-camera proof, “fair enough. He has up until the test to return the answers. But if he cheats, I won't just fail him. I'll destroy his future”. Lancer nods to himself, that was probably overdramatic but he was a drama kid and the cheer squad was for life. Jasmine, as expected, takes him seriously and gulps before nodding curtly while walking off likely to go find her unusual brother.

Lancer is perfectly fine letting Daniel retake the test -a makeup one with different answers of course and far enough away he has time to study, without feeling the need to commit a felony just to pass; which seemed incredibly extreme to Lancer- if Daniel simply gives him back the answer sheet. Frankenstein’s Bride! The boy could give them back halfway through the test and that would be good enough; Lancer would be far less impressed with that though. Will he be proud if Daniel gives over the answers beforehand? Yes, of course. Even Lancer knows how much harder it can be to own up to our mistakes and make things right than it is to make the mistakes in the first place. He’d still be in trouble for stealing them of course, with a punishment of lots and lots of one on one intensive study sessions.

But what Lancer hadn’t expected, upon walking back into his classroom, is for there to be a well-dress but old-fashion-looking man leaning against his desk; seemingly polishing some kind of staff. Lancer quirks an eyebrow as he speaks, “hello?”.

The man doesn’t so much as look up from the staff, turning a nob at the top with some clicking noises, “William Edward Lancer, you are a man of simple paradoxes and ironies”.

Lancer stays exactly where he is, hand on the doorknob, oddly he doesn’t feel safe. In fact, he feels like he is explicitly in danger and being actively judged for his worth. “Pardon?”.

The man still doesn’t look to him, but at least he stops tinkering with the staff, placing the base on the ground and standing straight, “you seek to educate the youth, yet cripple them with stress from excessive testing. You turn a blind eye to encourage strength of self, yet that only makes the weak meeker. You try to inspire, yet are so out of touch you discourage instead. Your goal is to make for a bright thriving future for every child you can, and yet... you’ve become a gear cog in the educational machine that is the catalyst for most of their premature deaths”.

Lancer decidedly does not like where this is going and takes a step back, only for the man to seemingly disappear into thin air and for Lancer to bump up against something or someone behind him. Spinning around and staggering backwards into the classroom at seeing that the man is now behind him and staring at him with apathetic judgmental crimson eyes. This man... was a ghost. But nothing like what Lancer’s seen before, he’s sure. Gulping, Lancer grabs the first thing he can -a stapler- and holds it up like a weapon, “what do you want”. He always impressed himself with how not terrified he can make himself sound when faced with a ghostly threat.

The ghost frowns slightly, “from you? Nothing. From Daniel? Plenty. And as much as you are a cog in the educational system, you are also a cog in Daniel’s existence; and so far, not a very good one”.

Lancer’s not sure what to make of that except... “you, ghost, whatever you want with my student, you leave him alone”, swallowing, “and I help him were I can, where’s the fault in that”; he’s not sure why he feels the need to defend himself but he does.

“Explanations? Very well. The fault is in that you push him towards that which is no longer in the universes cards for him. Adding stress and crisis unnecessarily. When all is said and done, some people would be better helped left alone. Would be better to seemingly fail in the eyes of larger mortal society”.

Lancer has to cut in, “I don’t believe that. Every student and child can be great if given help, guidance, and education”; that was the philosophy of any teacher worth their salt.

The ghost actually almost seems to chuckle and smirks faintly, “make no mistake, Daniel has every possibility to be quite great. Or more so, it is something in the potential of the future; a future that, due to your intended future actions, will not come to pass”. Lancer gets that explicitly ominous ‘I’m in danger’ feeling again and tightens his grip on the stapler while the ghost continues though sounding far more malicious, “so as such, the best option is for the problem, for you, to be eliminated”, and brandishes a very large scythe.

Now Lancer knows he is absolutely in danger; he had never imagined he’d be the specific target of any ghost or ghost attack in general. But the best option currently is to RUN! Which, with his weight, is not an option he’s all to confident in. That, and the ghost’s blocking the doors. Said ghost shakes his head in mild disappointment before swinging with the scythe, Lancer barely manages to move to side and lands on the floor with a thud while the scythe slices a desk clean in half. Lancer scrambles on the floor wide-eyed, this ghost really meant to kill him!

Doing what he always does Lancer tries to think quick and grab for anything that might help him -a stapler was doing nothing against a scythe and that’s a fact- lunging for the ghosts staff thinking that maybe the ghost would value that enough to avoid damaging it. He’s not going to claim to know why the ghost left it to the side. Glancing back, Lancer has just a slight feeling that the ghost is smiling? as he grabs the staff. Lancer realises far too late, as the staff makes a clicking noise and a portal begins to swirl open around the top, that maybe this was the ghosts plan all along.

The portal swallows him whole in an instant. The ghost hums to themselves, thins their lips, and nods slightly; disappearing from sight with the swirl of clock-hands.

---

Lancer lands in the dirt practically face first, scrambling to get up and away from the staff. Craning his head around and wincing before cracking out his back, one too many hours spent bent over a desk; the things he gives for those kids. At least the ghost is nowhere in sight but something’s not right, the wall of the alleyway he’s apparently in looks far more weathered and beaten down than the city would allow; had to keep things looking good to avoid the wrath of the rich citizens. Putting his hand to the wall and bits of it crumble off, Lancer gets the distinct feeling the entire wall would crumble to dust with one solid push. He doesn’t like this, it feels too much like he’s in the middle of a serious ghost battle; the lemon/lime stench of ectoplasm in the air doesn’t help.

He’s unsure what to do at this time, stay put and wait for the first responders to start yelling that it’s safe and to come out? or risk going out himself? Both options left him at risk of a violent ghost, like the one just previously after him.

But what he doesn’t get about that is what in the name of Shakespeare did that ghost mean?!? When Lancer threatened Jasmine with ruining Daniel’s entire future that was not meant literally! So why had that ghost seemingly acted as if it was literal? And better yet, what did that ghost seem to want with Daniel?

Yes Lancer was well aware of the Fenton family business, who wasn’t?, and that his parents very likely had plans for him to take over the business one day, but as far as Lancer knew Daniel had little to no interest in that. Maybe Daniel was more involved with ghosts than he knew? Or maybe the Fenton parents' intentions to have him inherit the business was exactly why a ghost was interested in Daniel. Sabotaging or influencing a future important hunter would be something that ghosts would consider doing, even if said future hunter had zero interest in being a hunter. Shaking his head, all this think is getting him nowhere, he needs to decide his actions now.

Swallowing, well he was a man of risks, both calculated and sudden. And it has been a bit.. Gulping Lancer lifts a foot to move to step out before pausing and glancing back to the staff, it sitting innocently on the ground. What would happen if someone else stumbled upon that? Nothing good he imagines. Nodding to himself before gathering it up gingerly and returning to taking a cautious step out of the alley way; at the very least he can use the staff as a beating implement or a spear even.

But stepping out is like exiting an empty silent movie theatre into a crowded mall, like time itself had been stopped until he made up his mind to step forward. The scene that greets him is like an active war zone, people are running around without paying attention to where they’re going, there’s screaming, something is cackling with a heavy echo in the distance, an entire building starts collapsing; Lancer doesn’t know where to look or what to do so he just... stands there, frozen in spot.

At least until he sees what brought down the building, or more so who, a crumbled body flopping and skidding across the ground surrounded by rubble. At first all he can make out is the red suit, The Red Huntress, that’s enough to get him running; running off towards the downed Huntress. but when he gets close... he sees the dark skin, the shaved military hair cut, and the determined expression even with blood rapidly pooling around her head.

“Valerie!”. Lancer immediately kneels next to her, putting fingers to neck and grimaces over the lack of a pulse.

No ones ever died before. But... Lancer was trained to deal with death, in the case of a parent or Shakespeare forgive a student dying. So maybe he’s a little more calm than he should be but, no, never from a ghost attack. People might get hurt sure, but they don’t die! And this barely makes sense! Valerie looked to be in her late twenties. He scoops her up anyways, he is not just leaving her; gripping the staff tightly as he runs, panting heavily.

He sets her off near a more sturdy-looking building, there really was nothing he could do. Him slumping against the wall and crouching, “Chicken Soup For The Soul, what is going on here”, glancing at Valerie, “is this what the ghost meant by ‘cause of their death’?”, shaking his head and glancing to the staff, staring at the top, at the clock, the thing the ghost had been fiddling with. Was... was this a time-travelling device??? One way to find out... Lancer pokes at the nob on top, finding that won’t budge, then prodding the clock hands which move. Gulping, he pushes the hour hand backwards slowly and watches as the world around him reverses. Valerie seemingly glides along the ground and back through the building, the building puts itself back together, people run backwards; it’s a lot to take in.

Lancer pulls his hand away from the staff clock face, backs away from the people, slipping back into the alleyway and breathing out heavily. Glancing to the staff, “it is a time travel device”, he’s not sure whether to be in awe or completely horrified. Because that meant this was the future, he doesn’t want this to be that. Not by a mile. He flinches from the sound of a building collapsing, now knowing exactly what was happening out there.

Sliding down the wall and running a hand over his balding hair, he wants to go back, but what was the point of going back? His job was to prepare people for the future, prepare children for the future; but no one could be prepared for whatever this was. It was like something out of an apocalypse drama! The sound of another building going down sounds like definite emphasis. A sudden voice startles him, “that is indeed what it is”. Lancer snapping his head to the side and jolting upright, knees protesting; it’s the scythe-wielding ghost again... minus the scythe. And he looks like a proper ghost now, blue-skinned, cloaked, and sporting a ghostly tail.

Lancer narrows his eyes, more certain now that this ghost let him take the staff intentionally, “why?”.

The ghost almost seems to chuckle, “why not? A lesson taught in shock value sticks far better than any lesson plan, but I shouldn’t have to tell a human that. Now of course that isn’t the real question, now is it. No, the real one is why you”, the ghost floats a little closer, “why now”, and closer, “why here”, the ghost gets slightly closer and gestures with an arm, small screens appearing from thin air showing destruction taking place all around the globe, “and yet it’s not just here”; Lancer lets the ghost pretty well get up into his face, his back pressed up against the wall and shaking slightly. But where else is he going to go? Into the streets filled with suffering? He’ll take his chances here... and maybe this ghost had a point, not all ghosts were evil after all. Phantom proved that.

But as if on cue, a larger sneering ghost lands on the wall across the alleyway, cackling loudly and looking a lot like an older Phantom. But while Phantom felt safe, childish and goofy even, this ghost feels like death has arrived and is knocking down his front door with a battering ram. This ghost feels like terror and suffering without even looking at him; and looking felt like his god had come and he wanted nothing but his absolute obliteration. When Lancer jerked his head to take that unpleasant look to the side at the Phantom-like ghost, the strange ghost reaches out and taps the staff before yanking it away. Lancer snapping his head back to that ghost just as a purple portal opens up under his feet and he falls down. He’s almost glad purely because it’ll get him away from the Phantom-like ghost, away from death and torture come knocking.

If he stayed in this time, that time, nothing but brutal pain would await him.

-

Lancer staggers but manages to stay on his feet when he lands on the ground this time, putting a hand against what feels like wall to steady himself further; shivering still and glancing around cautiously. It looks as if he’s back in normal Amity but his gut’s doing flip-flops and, in the name of Dracula, he is trusting his gut. Especially after just having had run-ins with two of the only ghosts he’s ever felt truly and genuinely deeply afraid of. The only times he’s felt like something dead, something that was death itself, had set its eyes on him. His paranoia right now is cranked up to eleven.

Even so he still doesn’t expect the sudden explosion seeming to come from the building he’s directly behind that shakes the ground violently and blows out his eardrums, clapping his hands over his ears and wincing. He still walks cautiously to make his way around the building, coughing on the smoke as he goes; only to come face to face with bits and pieces of flesh and clothing.

Including clothing that looked disturbingly familiar to what was in his own closet. The breath he sucks in nearly makes him choke; from smoke and shock alike.

But looking up, there on the road, there’s Daniel kneeling on the ground with an outstretched hand looking stunned and red-eyed. And looking back down, Lancer understands, he gets it.

The bits of red hair.

The chunks of blue and orange spandex.

Half a dark-coloured beret.

The pair of almost jarringly intact faux leather combat boots.

The clothes that look so much like his own.

And the piece of the Nasty Burger sign impeded into the ground.

If Daniel never returned the test... this place, the Nasty Burger, was were he intended to take him and his parents; his sister of course would have came.... his friends too. They were there for him through thick and thin, even if that thick was cheating or expulsion or jail time or just a slap on the wrist. To Kill A Mocking Bird, they’d come faster and more determined than the boy’s own parents would.

There was something deeply wrong with that. Wasn’t there.

The sound of sirens overtaking the ringing in his ears gets him to look back up, back to Daniel who hasn’t so much as moved yet, his face is wet with tears. Lancer can’t do anything but watch the paramedics get to him, shake him and check him, try to ask him questions. He can’t do anything because... because he’s realised that this was what that ghost really meant. This was his own doing.

He brought Daniel and them all here in his vain self-indulgent desire to help the teen with what he thought were normal issues that just needed correction.

He brought them here and they all died because of it.

All of them but one.

And Lancer doesn’t have that staff to turn back the tides of time this time. He wishes he did because he doesn’t want, almost can’t bare, to watch Daniel be checked again and again. Watch the boy push them off when he remembers himself enough and refuses to let them take him away with surprising strength. Watches as Vladimir Masters, one of the richest men in the world, arrived seemingly out of nowhere and places a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

The amount of pure hatred filling Daniel’s eyes makes Lancer unable to doubt for even a second that Vladimir has something to do with this. But the green that flares up in those eyes is what finally makes Lancer move, jerk a step backwards. Yet still watching as Vladimir subtly jabs Daniel with something and the teen goes limp; the man telling the paramedics that he’ll handle this, that he can look after the boy himself, that he’s family. At first they protest but, with red flashing in their eyes, they agree.

And then... everything stops as if it’s a photo rather than real life. Even the puffs of smoke and steam are still.

“For a mortal to be faced with their own death, it is a grounding thing, is it not”.

Lancer doesn’t bother turning around, watching Daniel’s limp frozen form instead, “that’s not it”.

“Ah then perhaps it is Daniel, the one left behind, the forgotten child to fall between the cracks. The one the system, your system, failed”.

Lancer swallows and shakes his head weakly, but he doesn’t deny it because it’s not a lie. Lancer knows in his gut that wherever Vladimir is taking Daniel he won’t come back from.

Daniel was going to die.

And Lancer helped ensure that.

Because he did what he was supposed to do. He tried to help and he did, in some ways. But he missed something, missed a malicious presence, so entirely, so completely, that it didn’t matter; that it did the opposite of help.

Lancer glances to the side as the ghost, now appearing to look like a small buck-toothed child, floats near his shoulder, “there are times that you, as a mortal, must realise when you are at your limit. When something is simply outside of your reach. When someone is. And you must let go. If you do not...”, they tilt the staff just slightly and Lancer is transported with them to a place that looks like a lab. Lancer’s stomach drops.

Daniel is strapped down and thrashing against the restraints on a table.

Vladimir forcing a gas mask onto his face and slowly... that struggling dies.

Clawed gauntlets are wielded and Lancer can only watch as Daniel gets impaled by them and thrashes even though he’s unconscious.

Phantom is torn from him like something out of a nightmare and he lunges at Vladimir full of rage and wrath. Lancer’s never seen anything like this from the ghost, rage and hatred. The desire to hurt. He sees now how Phantom could have grown to become the other version he saw. This was how he was tainted.

Phantom, in his rage, tears a ghost out of Vladimir and devours him piece by ectoplasm splattered piece. The teen ghost has completely lost it.

Daniel has slipped off the table and woken up, has tried crawling off to the corner. It does him no good as Phantom sets his sights on Daniel.

Lancer collapses down to his knees and nearly vomits when Phantom violently tears out Daniel’s stomach, tossing intestines and organs across the room before tearing Daniel’s throat out with his teeth. He’d never imagined even ghosts to be capable of such cruelty. A bout of insanity, surely, that the hero wouldn’t come back from.

This wasn’t just Daniel’s death, but the fall of a hero too. Where they one and the same? Lancer isn’t going to claim to know, not after today.

The strange ghost speaks up again as Lancer stares down at the blood pooling on the ground and slowly creeping towards his knees. “Someday I will teach that boy, and I will teach him well. So, I want to make a deal”, the ghost leans over his shoulder near his face, all Lancer can do is side-eye them as the ghost continues, “he will live, mostly. He will thrive, in a way. But he will amount to absolutely nothing in your mortal society. In fact, he will amount to less than that, another failed statistic. And you, you will let him. He will misbehave, and you will wave it off. He will skip and miss classes, and you will let it go. He will do everything worthy of expulsion, and you will act as if no wrong has been done. You are but a bump in the road of his existence and you will act like it, and you may become his favourite adult because of that fact alone. People often appreciate the simple things in life, do they not. So be a simple thing. Deal?”.

Lancer swallows, “and everyone will be alright”. He doesn’t really have a choice here, does he?

“But of course”. The ghost sounds sickly sweet.

Lancer doesn’t know what he’s agreeing to or what he may be condemning Daniel to, but he nods weakly anyway; anything would be better than this after all.

“Much appreciated. Truly. He’ll make for a very satisfying-”.

Lancer jerks, spinning around, suddenly back in his classroom, an open empty briefcase sitting on his desk. He does hear the end of the ghosts statement though...

“-god”.

Lancer stares forwards for a bit before shaking his head violently and slumping down into his desk chair. Eyeing the briefcase warily, moving his hand and closing the lid with a soft click. Closing the lid on this day. Closing the lid on a teenager's future. Closing the lid on Daniel.

There’s something’s he’s better off not knowing. And some people better off left unhelped. The book of Daniel Fenton’s life is staying firmly unread. ‘God’ that ghost had said...

Glancing to the wall clock, it’s about that time that he talked to Jasmine, before whatever exactly that ghost was that messed with everything. But this time... Lancer’s staying right here. He’s not moving from this chair, he’s not reopening that briefcase, and he’s not talking to anyone.

He’s... not going to ignore Daniel but he is not even going to consider interfering with him and whatever The Great Gatsby was going on with the teen. He’s also going to run away if he ever even glimpses that cloaked staff-wielding ghost again. Very far away.

Daniel looks shocky and shaky the next day, but at least he and everyone else is alive. And Lancer’s going to have to live with his decisions and actions, or lack thereof.  

End.

Prompt: Lancer + Time Travel

#Danny Phantom #phic phight #phic phight 21 #phic phight 2021 #phandom #team halfa #mr. lancer #clockwork #TUE rewrite sorta #alternate TUE #angst #fear tactics #manipulative! clockwork #scared straight #my writing #fan fic #phan phic #have a fic suck my dick #phantomphangphucker #gothmoth #gore #blood and gore #cannibalism

[realcube]

comfort hcs 💗 feat. overworked! reader

characters: yaku, oikawa, yams & akaashi

trigger warning: swearing

thank you to anon for this sweet request!

morisuke yaku

♡ he has concerned mom energy to i feel like he’d notice that you’re overworking yourself before starts negatively effecting you 

♡ once he figures out that you’re actually stressed and he’s not just being paranoid, he will probably hold an intervention where is like ‘sit down, let’s have a cha--’

♡ but you just push him out the way to grab your coat, ‘sorry, sweetheart. i don’t wanna miss my bus!’

♡ DFRTYJUHG he just stood there like a statue looking at you like (●__●) this bitch-

♡ anyway, once you come back from uni/college/school/ work etc yaku insists that you need to sit down and discuss your problems with him 

♡ then you’re kinda just like ‘what problems?????’

♡ also, after what happened that morning, yaku was not taking ‘no’ as an answer

♡ no matter what you say 

♡ homework? you can do that later

♡ chores? he’ll do them for you if you just listen to him

♡ hungry? you can eat while you listen to him

♡ showering? you smell fine!

♡ so yeah, he will pick you up and carry you to the living room if he has to

♡ he’s probably really serious about the issue bc your feelings aren’t a joke to him but he lined up your favourite plushies on the couch so he could talk to them as a third party when you disagreed with him

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

“i study in moderation! and i have not been neglecting our relationship; i just need to focus on my studies!” you tutted, averting your gaze from yaku’s as you thought about his accusation; did he really feel as though you had been taking him for granted? because of course, that wasn’t your intention at all and the more you thought about it, the more you realise that perhaps he was right.

yaku rolled his eyes at your response, quite enraged by your dismissive tendencies but he didn’t want to take his anger out on you so he simply turned to the kiiroitori plush that sat beside him, “duck, do you think (l/n) has been overworking themselves and ignoring both of us?”

kiirotori was forced by yaku’s hand to nod in response.

you snorted slightly before trying to furrow your eyebrows in anger once again, “their name is kiiroitori!” 

tōru oikawa

♡ dsfghjkl ngl he clearly overworks himself too so he wouldn’t even notice 

♡ he’s like ‘oh, you’re spending hours upon hours of a day - losing sleep and energy - to dedicate yourself solely to one thing so you can be perfect at it??? that’s completely normal!’

♡ spoiler alert, it’s not

♡ it’d probably take a third-party to point that what you are both doing isn’t healthy (either iwaizumi or a therapist)

♡ then you’d both look at each other like ⚆_⚆ wut 

♡ anyway recovery time ig ✨

♡ he’d definitely just try distract you whenever he sees you studying/training/practising

♡ forget overwork, he doesn’t even let you work 

♡ oh and y’all have started having ‘lazy days’ once a month where you make it a point to nothing but each other :))

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

you both stared at the television, pretending to be absolutely engrossed by jumanji. however, once you let out your fifth sigh that minute, oikawa could tell that you were just as disinterested as he was so he peered over his shoulder to look at you, “this is so boring.” 

you nodded, shuffling closer to him so he could drape his arm around your shoulder and bury his nose into your hair. “it’s so hard to just sit here and do nothing when i know that i have a lot to do, y’know?”

oikawa hummed in agreement, “but it’s nice to finally spend some quality time with you, angel.” he placed a kiss on your temple, scooting awkwardly in his seat before pulling you down to lay down next to him on couch. 

“yeah,” you purred, happily falling onto the soft cushions while in oikawa’s embrace, “i’ve suddenly had a change of heart - i love these lazy days.”

“that was fast.”

tadashi yamaguchi

♡ it would take him a wile to built up the courage to actually express his concern about you overworking yourself

♡ but until then, he’ll show them in more subtle ways

♡ like if he sees you working at your desk - whether your posture is straight or not - he’ll rush up to you and massage your shoulders/back while talking

♡ he always sends you goodnight texts and gets v snappy when you text him in the middle of the night 

♡  ‘tadashi, what did you get for number five on the maths hw?’

♡ if he opens the message and notices that you sent that crazy late at night or the ass crack of dawn, he’ll lose his shit

♡  ‘(Y/N) WHY WERE U UP AT 3AM DOING MATHS HW LITERALLY GO TO SLEEP’

♡ he forces himself to ask you out on dates irl so that if you use work/training/practise etc as an excuse..he can give the puppy eyes 🥺

♡ don’t get me wrong, he’s not manipulative at all but you just overwork yourself so much he think that the teeniest tiniest little bit of fun wouldn’t do you any harm 

♡ he literally cares for you so much and he just wants you to be healthy and happy like is that too much to ask ಥ_ಥ

♡ it would take him 3 months of mental preparation to confront you but he’d do it eventually lol

♡ he’d still be super duper nervous though 👉👈

  ♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

“(y/n).” yamaguchi’s soft voice rang quietly through the hallway before he stuck his head inside your room in search for you. he let out a sigh upon noticing that - like always - you were sitting at your desk, drowning in papers of schoolwork. 

he hurriedly approached you, suddenly throwing his arms around your shoulders as he hid his face in the crook of your neck before wailing, “(y/n)! i know it’s none of my business but i just think you work yourself way too hard and i see how sleepy you are all the time and you didn’t even eat the cupcakes i made you because you were too busy studying - i thought you loved my cupcakes!”

your eyes widened at the sudden contact and the string of words yamaguchi was babbling in your ear; but you semi-understood what he was getting at. so you steadily turned around to wrap your arms around his neck and rub his spine reassuringly, “i am so sorry, tadashi. i had no idea i was worrying you.”

he shook his head against the skin of your neck, “it’s fine, i worry about everything.” he joked before changing to a more serious tone, “it’s just that-- i think you should care more about yourself. take some time to relax once and a while, y’know?”

his sweet words resulted in your lips curling to a smile while his arms wrapped securely around your body brought you a much-needed feeling of peace, “alright, i’ll try.”

“good.” yamaguchi chirped, pecking your forehead then positioning his face where it was prior, going back to enjoying the feeling of your soft skin agaist his. “-so, are you gonna eat the cupcakes or”

keiji akaashi 

♡ he overworks himself too

♡ if anything, i think he’d praise you for being ‘hard-working’ at first ‘:)

♡ but once he notices how much you work and how negatively it’s effecting your mental/physical health, he’ll intervene

♡ like yamaguchi, i think he’d start small by subtly doing things to reverse the effects of your stress 

♡ and simultaneously, it kinda helps him too

♡ for example, if you get stress ance, he’ll do a bunch of research on the best skin treatments for it, buy the products then do facemasks with you + create a whole new nightly skincare routine for both of you 

♡ or if your not taking care of yourself properly, he’ll book you both in for a spa appointment 

♡ or if you’re tense, he’ll get you both massages from those professional ppl that make you strip naked

♡ when they make you get your tiddies out, you know they are a professional  masseuse

♡ and he’ll take out on ten times more just to help you relax

♡ also, they’re always slow-paced dates bc like ofc akaashi takes you out to the park/beach for picnics....does he seem the sort of guy to take you bowling?? no.

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

you sighed as akaashi brought a spoon up to your lips, looking at you expectantly but you simply whined, “keiji, i should be at home studying right now. you know my exam in 5 months, right?” though akaashi wanted to believe you were joking, the seriousness in your voice made it clear that you genuinely thought 5 months was a short period of time - even considering all the work you’ve already done in preparation for it. 

so akaashi simply shrugged in response, continuing to prod your lip with the spoon until you parted you lips, allowing the pudding he made to enter your mouth. then, he pulled it out lower it to observe your pouty expression for a moment; you were so cute that he couldn’t help but smile softly. 

“i’m sure you’ll do fine, sweetheart. i believe in you.” he said, gripping your waist before placing a tender kiss on your cheek. “for now, let’s enjoy this perfect weather. it only comes around once a year, so why not make the most of it, hm?” 

before you were able to reply, akasshi utilized the hand  the had on your waist to pull you back onto the picnic blanket with him, so you were both looking up at the pale blue sky, decorated with delicate clouds. “what do you see?” he inquired, gesturing up to the shapes the clouds formed.

you snickered, slowly intertwining your finger with his as you examined the sky for any familiar shapes or silhouettes in the sky. “oh!” you exclaimed, lifting your index finger to point to a particular cloud adorning the sky, “that kinda looks like my maths professor in a gallon hat.” 

akaashi snorted, “i have no idea what your maths professor looks like but alright.”

you laughed, lowing your finger but not everting your gaze from the special cloud you spotted, “what about you, babe? what do you see?”

with a moment of hesitation, akaashi immediately replied, “an angel.”

your eyes scanned across the sky for a cloud in the shape on an angel but you simply couldn’t find the one he was referring to, so you whipped your head to the side to see where he was pointing, only notice that his eyes were fixated on you. 

“y-you’re such a simp, keiji.”

#yaku x you #akaashi x you #yamaguchi headcanons #oikawa x you #akaashi fluff #yamaguchi fluff #oikawa fluff #yaku fluff #akaashi imagine #akaashi hcs #akaashi x gender neutral reader #akaashi x y/n #oikawa toru x reader #oikawa x reader #oikawa headcanons #yamaguchi x you #yamaguchi hcs #yamaguchi imagine #yamaguchi x y/n #yaku x y/n #yaku x reader #👾fluff

[katsukisblackteddy]

Can you do HCs of Shinsou, Amajiki, Bakugo; teen!Aizawa with a South African s/o who has people saying some annoying comments to her just bc she's from Africa. Like someone says that they're sorry that she struggled with poverty (girl is from a super wealthy family that can buy their family), or say some gibberish with clicks and asks her to translate (s/o can speak five languages: English, Zulu, Xhosa, Afrikaans, and Japanese; understand others. Xhosa has clicks). They ask her if she had...

cont’d request: Pt.II - to hunt for her food (Umm, no. Cape Town has supermarkets and she knows what pizza and Japanese food is, guys). Someone just can't believe that South Africa has TV and internet, while s/o literally has a cell phone with all of the social media and has friends/family from South Africa. When class is over, someone asks why isn't she wearing "African" clothes (bc Africa is country, not a continent) when s/o is just wearing basic clothes. People be stupid.

“Don’t Be Stupid” - Headcannon for Shinsou, Tamaki, Bakugou, and teen!Aizawa

Hey! Thanks for requesting! Hope this is okay :)

Pairings: Shinsou, Tamaki, Bakugou, teen!Aizawa x reader Pronouns: she/her Warnings: ignorance, cursing

Hitoshi didn’t really give a flying fuck about what others thought, mainly because most of the time people didn’t even want to be around him because of his “villain quirk”

But just because he didn’t care what they thought about him, doesn’t mean he wouldn’t fuck somebody up if they messed with you

Shinsou is a quiet guy for the most part, but he was super perceptive

So when he heard that the little ballsack haired toddler from class 1-A was spreading rumors about you, he was angry

You had no problem explaining to people about your home country of South Africa, especially if they asked nicely

But one day when you were walking past Class 1-A when school had just ended, intent on meeting your boyfriend outside to go walk to the park together, you heard Mineta spewing shit about you and South Africa

“Yeah they’re a bunch of savages over there! They literally hunt for food with spears and everyone is poor and they use goats as money.” Mineta said

You stood by the door to see what they were going to say before you chimed in and told them what South Africa was actually like.

“Mineta that’s literally cap and you know it.” Kaminari chimed in with a roll of his eyes. 

He had been spending so much time around you and Shinsou that he started even using your slang unconsciously.

It made you smile a bit.

“Kaminari you’re dumb as rocks. How would you know?” Mineta defended himself.

“Anyways, apparently because they’re so poor they steal a lot too. Maybe that’s why my jacket went missing after I was around (y/n)...Like I said they’re a bunch of savages, she probably doesn’t know any better.” 

Now it was time for you to chime in. 

“Why the fuck would I want your ratty ass jacket anyway? I don’t steal and that’s not what South Africa is like. Denki knows because I told him about it. I’m not poor, I just don’t flaunt my wealth, and if you really want to know I could buy your entire family with my own net worth.” You remarked, crossing your arms over your chest with a huff.

Bakugou sat in the corner watching the whole exchange with a small smirk on his face...he enjoyed confrontation too much.

“Oh and we do have supermarkets where we buy our food from.” You add as an after thought. “If you wanted to know about South Africa, you should’ve just asked like a normal person instead of spewing shit. Have a nice day.” You left the classroom after that a smile growing on your face as you heard Kaminari and Kirishima scold Mineta for talking shit behind your back.

Yeah...that was the last time he did that because after Shinsou heard what happened he found Mineta the next day and threatened him so bad he peed his diaper.

Tamaki was a pretty reserved guy and when you two began dating it surprised mostly everyone because you two were so different

Honestly, Tamaki literally looked at you like a goddess and it annoyed him when people were just plain ignorant

Usually when he was annoyed he would rant to you about it or Mirio or Nejire, and then he would go sit in a corner blushing about how he feared he was oversharing

PLS HE’S SO CUTE

um...N E WAYS...

You had been a transfer into the class when they were second years after your father decided to expand his international company to Japan, meaning you had to leave your home in South Africa

You were upset at first but you quickly made friends with the Big Three and Leonardo Subarashi, who was also from South Africa. 

So it came as a surprise when one of your friends, Tsuki Vinsmoke started talking shit about your homeland even when two of her friends were from there

“They literally live in huts with dirt floors. Maybe that’s why they’re so dirty and poor.” Tsuki laughed with two of her bitch friends, standing right near you

You turned to look at her with a frown on your face, practically daring her to say something else.

“I don’t even know how those two got here. They don’t even have phone service over there.”

“Hey (y/n)?” She said a little louder, as you turned around again, placing your pencil down and momentarily ignoring your school work.

“What Tsuki?”

“Why don’t you wear African clothes? Like those weird scarves and cloths or whatever? Are you ashamed that you came from dirt poor people? I would be.” Tsuki wore a nasty smile on her face as her eyes seemed to sparkle with malice.

“There’s no such thing as African clothes Tsuki. People wear the same clothes here that they do in South Africa...why would I be ashamed of such a culturally rich homeland? I’m proud to be South African, and besides I’d suggest you do some research before you start talking to me about being poor, especially since I’m way richer than you.” You gave a fake sincere smile before glancing over at Tamaki and your friends who gave you a thumbs up as if to say Destroy her.

So you did...in the end you got sent to Principal Nezu’s office after you made her cry and she lied to your teacher saying you had threatened her life like a dirty savage

Tamaki had to hold you back with some help from Mirio before you decked her

Nezu didn’t really care and gave you a donut from the order that had been in his office before sending you back to class

Needless to say, Tsuki got suspended for being racist and perpetuating a hateful environment in the classroom and nobody else messed with you, not even her little friends who sucked up to you after Tsuki went on suspension.

Why would anyone even bother saying stupid shit about you when you were just as hot headed as your explosive boyfriend? I don’t know, but they did

Of course everyone from class 1-A was smart enough not to start anything, but it seems Monoma wasn’t as smart

The annoying overly entitled blonde from class 1-B, had started out by asking you simple questions about your homeland, things like:

“What’s it like there?”, “Is it always sunny?”, “Have you seen a rhino or lion before?”

Then they started getting kind of ignorant and annoying.

“Hey (y/n)? Can you speak African?”

“No Monoma because Africa is a continent made up of many countries, each with their own languages.” You explained, wasn’t he supposed to be smart? “What are you doing Monoma?” You asked, with a raised eyebrow as he started to make strange noises at you.

“Shit for Brains, leave us the fuck alone.” Bakugou grumbled from beside you after he finished chewing his food. 

“It’s you language right? Can you understand what I said?”

“No dumbfuck. You sounded like a dolphin.” You remarked as a few of your friends laughed lightly. 

“I’m surprised you understand...I heard your people aren’t very smart...you know products of their environment, it’s unfortunate really. I’m sorry that you lived in such poverty, but you should consider yourself lucky, now you get to live in dorms and sleep in a real bed and not on a dirt floor.” Monoma went on and on and you were growing increasingly annoyed as you friends sat there in shocked silence.

“You know what Monoma?” You said with a fake smile as you spun around. “I’ve never met anyone as ignorant and stupid as you. I’m not poor and I never was, I slept in a real bed with an actually comfortable mattress unlike the ones here, and I much smarter than you ever will be I speak five fucking languages and I can understand more than that in others. Would you like me to tell you to fuck off in another language since you can’t seem to understand Japanese?” You asked as you raised your eyebrows with your arms crossed over your chest, as if waiting for his answer. 

He stayed silent. 

“That’s what I thought. Maybe you are smart after all?” You added teasingly, watching him be dragged back to his table by Kendo.

Shota Aizawa never really had many friends, usually more laidback than others were comfortable with, but the ones he did have were the complete opposites of him

Hizashi and Shirakumo were loud pranksters, while you and Midnight were talkative and enjoyed messing with him.

Most of the time he ignored the pigheaded bully that was Sensoji, because he usually only picked on Shota, but when Sensoji realized that you were Aizawa’s real weakness, he started to hound you.

And Shota was NOT having that

It all came to a head after he battled against Shota during a training session.

“Your useless just like your quirk Aizawa.” Sensoji sneered at your boyfriend, glaring down at him. 

“Your nothing but a waste of space.” Sensoji added seeing the way that his insults didn’t really phase Shota.

“Hey leave him alone! What is wrong with you!” You intervened pushing the broad shouldered boy away from Shota.

“What are you that weak that you need your little safari ass backwoods girlfriend to save your ass?” Sensoji laughed along with one of his equally stupid Class 1-B classmates.

“Don’t fucking talk about her!” Shota yelled back, his eyes glowing as if it was a warning.

“Or what? It’s not like she’ll understand? People like her back in her country of Africa are stupid as fuck. They build their homes out of oversized tin cans and they don’t even have phones.” 

“Sensoji you’re the stupid one! Africa is... A CONTINENT NOT A COUNTRY!” Hizashi jumped in, activating his quirk halfway through his sentence.

“And they don’t live in tin cans.” Midnight added.

“I live in a nice home, one that’s probably bigger than yours. Just admit that you’re jealous of Shota and me and move on!” You pressed your finger into his chest on each word, glaring at him as if to say say something else and see what happens.

“Grow up!” Shota and Shirakumo added before Sensoji rushed away when he saw the teachers coming over to see what you all were arguing about.

“Yeah that’s what I thought! Run away like a little bitch!” You added with a growing smile.

“Language (y/n)!” Your teacher scolded, but even that couldn’t bring down your smile as you, your boyfriend, and your friends laughed about the incident.

You all still even joked about it years later.

TAGS:

#katsukisblackteddy #requested #headcannons #bnha #south african reader #shinsou x reader #tamaki x reader #bakugou x reader #teen!aizawa #bnha x poc!reader #mha x poc!reader #I'm sorry about always clowing Mineta but he makes it too fucking easy #sorry but not really that sorry #bnha x reader

[doberbutts]

Where was my father’s male privilege when he was beaten by his father so savagely that he went deaf, while his father’s girlfriend watched and did nothing?

Where was my father’s male privilege when he was abandoned and locked inside an empty apartment until the 1950s equivalent of CPS was tipped off he was there and took him to save him from starvation, because dear old grandpa and his girlfriend at the time didn’t want a defective child once they figured out they’d permanently fucked him up?

Where was my father’s male privilege when he bounced from foster home to foster home until he was held down and raped by one of his foster brothers, tried to tell his foster mother, and she just called him a faggot and left it at that?

Where was my father’s male privilege when he was finally reunited with his mother and had to scrape together a living by eating stale bread and running errands for what turned out to be local gangs, because she was too poor to feed another mouth?

Where was my father’s male privilege when he watched a black man shot by police bleed out in the street?

Where was my father’s male privilege when teachers who should have caught his deafness instead made him believe he was failing his classes because he was stupid because that’s just how black people are?

Where was my father’s male privilege when he got the tar kicked out of him by his white classmates who felt emboldened by their female teacher’s anti-black racism?

Where was my father’s male privilege when he brought the subject of racism up with the school board after a cross was lit on fire on his desk, and he was dismissed by both male and female staff?

Where was my father’s male privilege when he struggled to find a job after completing college, completing a master’s degree, which he paid for exclusively with scholarships earned from his competitive essay writing, because no one wanted to hire a disabled black man?

Where was my father’s male privilege when he was accused of assault by a white female student who could not keep her story straight and eventually admitted she had made it up because she wanted to put her black principal back in his place?

Where was my father’s male privilege when he was violently cuffed and illegally searched while I sat in the carseat and he was forced to comfort me through the window?

Where was my father’s male privilege when his wife, my mother, was immediately disowned by her entire family for associating herself with him? When she was forced to make a choice between a future with him, or her family? When he sees this echo with his children, and my sister’s children have still never met my brother-in-law’s family despite more than 10 years of marriage?

Where was my father’s male privilege when he came to pick us up from school and my school refused to let him in until the cops verified he was exactly who he said he was? Despite his name matching his ID, the lanyard he wore stating he was a principal at a nearby school, and the name on the school registry as being one of my parents? Despite me being called into the office to peek through the blinds at him and verifying that yes, this was my father?

Where was my father’s male privilege as neighbors who protested living near a black man repeatedly called the police on him as he pulled into the driveway of the house he’s lived in since I was born, let himself in with his own key, with ID to match the address and having known these neighbors by first name? To the point my white-passing mother had to diffuse the situation?

My father is straight and cis. My father is black and disabled. My father is a survivor. My father is a lot of things, and I have a lot of complicated feelings about him, but he is not trash. He has not skated through life as though it’s easy. His life was significantly harder than my mother’s, and her life wasn’t easy either. He has been hurt by men. He has been hurt by women. Some of the instances he has been hurt, my mother was directly sheltered from because she is a woman.

Her father was also an angry drunk, but deliberately did not take his anger out on his daughters, preferring to beat his son bloody instead. Mom has the trauma of watching her father beat the piss out of her brother and having to patch him back up after, but never of having been beaten herself.

Mom found herself in compromising and dangerous positions at times, but was protected from physical harm by her brother and the other men around her who saw it as their duty to protect the girls from that sort of thing. Literally the only good thing about rural purity culture.

Mom has a history of speaking out against racism and discrimination when she sees it, but has never needed to throw a punch in her life, because there was always a man around to protect her from the resulting fight. The men might not have agreed with her views on race but they were connected to her and thus duty/honor bound to protect her if someone tried to jump her because she wouldn’t let them beat up the black kid or told them to stop bothering the asian kid.

Mom never once had to stop and consider that it would be kinder to her partner to break things off.

Mom has never been falsely accused of assault because it’s just assumed that women don’t do that.

Mom has never been accused of trying to kidnap us because it’s believable that a white woman has mixed race kids that are darker than her but inconceivable that a black man has mixed race kids that are lighter than him.

Mom has never had the police called on her for entering her own house in their very white neighborhood.

Mom has only been pulled over once in her life, and the cop was far more interested in what my sisters and I were doing in her car than anything she might have potentially done.

My mother is straight and cis. She is also a white-passing POC and disabled. My mother is a survivor. My mother is a lot of things, and I have a lot of complicated feelings about her, but even she admits that her life was easier than my dad’s.

Cis, straight men suffer. White men suffer. My uncle is also a white-passing POC and a survivor. Do you know how much pent up anger he has? Still has, even though my grandfather changed and got better and apologized and owned up to his wrongs? Even though my grandfather’s been dead for years now? My uncle is sullen and prefers a bottle to take away his pain, pain he’s not been able to process, not been allowed to process, and he’s been that way since he was a child, which is not surprising considering what I’ve been directly told the beatings entailed... and things are always worse than what you’re told when it comes to that.

And all of that anger and resentment and rage and pain builds and builds until one of his sisters pokes him a little too hard about it and then he roars at them and storms off and he knows it’s wrong to take it out on them and he knows it’s not fair and that they only mean well but it hurts and he knows no other outlet besides lashing out because that was the only thing he was ever taught. Men get drunk and then get angry and then get violent. So he stops himself at yelling because he knows he can’t hit in anger, and he leaves and bangs doors behind him and stomps off until he calms down.

And you can say “dude needs therapy” and you know... you’re not wrong. But why would he ever seek it? When he sought help as a child he was told to be a man and suck it up and harden and grow some balls. His mother didn’t intervene to help him. You know, I know, he knows it’s because she was afraid her husband would turn on her. But it still hurts to know your own mother let your own father do that to you. Repeatedly. Over and over and over again. The most help he ever got was some first aid from his sisters when my grandfather decided he was done being angry. His teachers just knew him as an angry, sullen boy who frequently got into fistfights with other angry, sullen boys and chalked new bruises up to that. 

If you grow up like this, betrayed by everyone who is supposed to help you, then why would you ever consider seeking outside help as an adult?

And if your reaction is- see? He is a violent man! He is part of the problem! He could seek help and won’t because he is a stubborn man that wants to make his problems into women’s problems by relying on his sisters!

Then you fail to understand that my uncle is the way he is because of unprocessed, repeated trauma and betrayal that he was actively discouraged from seeking help to free himself of the cycle and start to heal. And his sisters were the only people in his life that did not harm him in that way, so at this point his sisters and his wife are the only people he trusts when triggers get poked and the pot boils over.

He does need therapy. He’s not likely to ever seek it out. And it’s because he was born a boy that this happened to him, and it’s because he was born a boy that no one was willing to help when he needed it most.

These men are not part of the queer community. They still were made vulnerable, and needed help, and did not get any, because of that same logic that drives these feelings about men not needing to be helped or included or assisted today. It’s not progressive just because the logic is coming from the queer community this time instead of conservative christians.

#tbh the majority of my mom's family is functionally white #they are a large part Native but that only comes up when it's convenient #mostly they're Irish and lean real hard into the being white thing #and tbh if you called one of them a POC to their face they'd probably punch you #even though by definition they ARE

[terrm9]

Hey...can you write more about tatum and mc about their future together.....I just love them so much...and your stories..too 💖

Thank you so much for sending these - I hope you do not mind me merging these two asks together. And I am sorry it took me so long!

This is going to be the most random headcanon ever - literally just some random thoughts about L&T’s future thrown together. I still have a lot of things to think about when it comes to their future, because I am focusing mostly on what has been and what is. But there are some ideas, so I will share them happily <3

Lina, Tatum & future

WARNING: there will be a mention of miscarriage in this so please do not read this HC if that’s a trigger for you

After one year at Vancross, Lina knows she will never become a politician. No way. She returns to Rutherland with an idea of what she would like to do and seeing Tatum’s support, she goes for it.

Tatum becomes a security advisor. It’s a safe job and the one he can put his mind to use in. And with Lina back to Rutherland, there is no need to look for anything else.

Lina finishes another school. Takes classes and courses and seminars and in the end, she becomes a social worker. She focuses on kids that grow up by themselves, even though they are not ophrans. Kids in foster care. Kids that do have parents officially but do not have them in reality. She sees herself in those kiddos and she loves her job. As distant and harsh as Lina could seem, a very few things make her as happy as being able to help those kids. They are mostly struggling teenagers and seeing the change she is capable of making in their lives is making her wonder how she could ever even consider politics in the first place.

They move in together after they are both more or less settled - the apartment is small, but it’s theirs. Lina refuses to accept any kind of support from her mother. She has done it all by herself and she will not become dependent at the age of 26. Their home is a little bit messy (because Lina) and full of books and plants and they don’t know how but they managed to fit a treadmill in there, too (because Tatum).

One time, there are some concerns about a foster family one of “Lina’s” kids is in and she is sent for an inspection there. It is supposed to be a routine precaution, but one of the foster parents is drunk and aggresive and attacks Lina when they feel like she is too nosy. It’s nothing life threatening, but in the end, the police has to intervene and Lina does end up with some bruises  and a cut on her cheek - there is no way she can keep that from Tatum. And oh boy, when Tatum finds out. He goes livid. Lina has never seen him that furious. (this point was absolutely not necessary for this HC but it’s a fic idea so I am putting it here:DD)

They are happy. So, so mundanely happy. And Lina thinks that nothing can come between them, ever.

And for such a long time, it seems like nothing truly can.

The question of marriage comes to the surface over the years  - the HC about that is here. They do get married - it’s an extremely small ceremony. Just the two of them, Tatum’s dad (because he wouldn’t forgive them if he was left out of that), two witnesses. Prince Peter is their marriage officiant, because even after all those years, Lina has to admit she does like Dionne and Peter and also because being wed by a prince is kinda cool, especially considering the wedding is the most lowkey thing they have ever attended.

The question of kids lingers through the relationship for all those years - before and after marriage. Tatum does want kid(s). He is a family man and has no issue admiting that. Lina is super confused. She doesn’t hate kids. Part of her even really wants them. But she is so doubtful. So scared. She had never had a mother figure that could show her how the motherhood is done. She never experienced what a normal family looks like. She cannot possibly be a good mother with the way she...is.

Tatum reassures her a lot about it. He doesn’t push her - he would never. He does want children but only if they both want them.

“You work with kids everyday and you are amazing at your job. You would be even more amazing as a mom,” he often smiles at her.

“Those kids are not mine,” Lina always argues back.

“With the way their lives are, you are the closest thing to a mother they have.”

She just huffs and changes topic, always. If she is to have a kid, she must be a good mother. She must do that one thing right. And she has no idea how. Even though she knows Tatum would be an exceptional father and that he would be a good parent for both of them, that’s not an excuse.

Until one day, she finds out she is pregnant. She is shocked. Tatum is delighted. They have been together for almost 10 years and they were always careful and... It doesn’t matter. She is pregnant.

It takes weeks for her to accept what is happening and she is even more shocked to realize that she is excited, too. Not as much as Tatum - nobody would surpass his excitement. But they are happy. Secretly, undoubtedly happy. So sure about each other and about their life.

And then, that life is taken away from them. Lina loses the baby - still in her first trimester, still at the times when nobody else knew about her pregnancy. It was just her and Tatum sharing the happiness and now it’s just the two of them sharing the grief.

Except they are not sharing it. Tatum grieves openly. He wants to talk about it, to find some sort of peace in the strength they radiate together. Lina shuts herself off. She doesn’t want to talk to him, she doesn’t want to talk about the baby. (another fic idea:D I am just putting those here to motivate myself to write them one day)

For so long they believed that nothing could ever come between them, until something did. And they are both lost and hurting and Lina is SO confused, because she didn’t even know if she wants children and now she is missing the one she hadn’t even known?

It takes months for them to get back to their life. They take a break from their routine. They travel a lot and finally, they talk. They grieve together and they heal together.

And when Lina gets pregnant for the second time, they are as scared as they are excited. Tatum is so overprotective it's both adorable and hilarious.

They have twin boys - Alexander and Nikolaos (Alec and Nico) and even though the fear of fucking it all up still lingers, Lina loves being a mother. And she makes sure she is - Tatum is, they both are - always, always there for the boys. She makes sure her sons never feel lonely.

They live a normal life. Calm. Peaceful. There is no grand political career, there are no scandals, there's no spotlight. But it's life filled with so much joy and happinnes, it makes Lina dizzy at times.

****

Once again, humbly putting my perma taglist here. Feel free to ignore. Proper fics are coming, I promise

@canigetanawwjunk | @mercury84choices | @udishaman | @starrystarrytrouble | @forallthatitsworth | @sophxwithers | @maurine07 | @iemcpbchoices | @jamespotterthefirst | @anntoldst0ries | @custaroonie | @withbeautyandrage | @tsrookie | @k2624 | @choicesaddict5 | @mvalentine | @casey-v | @the-pale-goddess | @gardeningourmet | @uneravine | @quixoticdreamer16 | @utterlyinevitable | @itsjustamesshonestly | @dorisz | @toadfrog26 | @monsoonblooms12 | @drakewalkerfantasy

#l & t #tatum mendoza #lina monroe #foreign affairs #headcanon #this is very chaotic i am sorry

[thefanficmonster]

So Done

Daniel (The Dark Pictures Anthology: Little Hope) & Reader (Trans Masc - using They/them pronouns)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Platonic fluff, humor

Summary: Having a crush isn’t easy but having a friend who has a crush he thinks is hopeless is even worse. Dealing with the constant self-deprecation and agony, Y/N’s gotten used to it, but damn if they stop trying to convince Daniel otherwise. Cause that’s what best friends do.

Requested by my platonic spouse @hopeveon Here’s the fic you requested literal ages ago bro - sorry for the wait! Still, hope you enjoy it :) Love, Vy ❤

“If you don’t stop gazing dreamily at Taylor, I swear imma throw a french-fry at your forehead.“ I caught onto Daniel’s inability to focus on the conversation we were having quite early on so I just gave up on it. Well, not completely - he has a tendency of claiming he’s been listening to all I’ve said so I’ve just been rambling nonsense for the past ten minutes and he hasn’t reacted to ANYTHING. Yeah, he’s totally paying attention. TOTALLY.

It’s not like I mind it or anything - ok, sometimes I do, but what really bugs me is this dragging out of the inevitable love story that’s gonna occur here, no matter how hopeless he claims his case to be. Trying to beat that mindset out of him hasn’t proved to be effective nor has beating him out of that mindset so I’m just left to my own devices here because he’s starting to prove me wrong - he might actually be a hopeless case. Just not in the way he thinks.

“W-what?“ He suddenly snaps out of his odd state, turning to look at me with a baffled gaze. Probably the sound of Taylor’s name set him off. It seems to be the only way I can draw his attention. 

You see, I’ve known Daniel since high school sophomore year which means I’ve seen him have several crushes and girlfriends over the years. However, I have never seen him whipped quite like this. My dude’s literally in love and completely star-struck. And very fucking discouraged in the romantic field for some reason. I don’t understand when or why this sudden change in him happened but I can’t say I’m a fan. He’s always been the confident one in our duo and I’ve seen him win over girls with a single conversation many times. Yet here he is, across the cafeteria from the girl he’s infatuated with, unable to work up the courage to even text her let alone go up to her and talk to her.

Instead, he sits here, pretending to be listening to me. Wonderful, but I’d like the old Daniel back please.

“I said it’d be cool if a meteor struck that dumbass who sits next to me in class.“ I say, my head tilted to the side, very unamused.

He furrows his brows, lost and confused as though he needs a map for the conversation, “And what does Taylor have to do with that?”

I can’t help but roll my eyes. I’m typically a person of average patience but right now I feel a really strong urge to grab neon signs and spell it all out for Daniel. I roll my eyes and take a deep breath so I don’t snap, “Nothing with the meteor, but she’s got plenty to do with the fact that you’re completely different compared to the Daniel I knew in high school.”

He shrugs his shoulders like an accused child that doesn’t wanna admit what they did wrong. “College changed me.”

I give him another eye-roll, more annoyed than the previous, “That’s bullshit. You were the same dumbass in freshman year too.” I say, observing as he insecurely pushes his food around the plate with the plastic fork, “It’s all got to do with Taylor. You can’t rattle my resolve there.”

It’s his turn to be annoyed - the audacity he has, damn. “Alright, thanks Y/N, great observations. How about you give me some solutions though? Seeing as how I’m a dumbass and all that.”

“Well you are...“ I reply, unbothered by his childish outburst, “...especially since I just gave you a solution to your damn problem: go and talk to her! You have like four classes together, do you really have nothing to discuss? Any interests in common? Anything?“

“I don’t know.” He sighs defeatedly, “We’ve never talked about our interests. But I bet she’s not a video game nerd like I am. Nor does she look like she’s into sports. The most we could have in common is music and who knows what kind of music she listens to.“

“Oh God, I’m on the brink of losing my sanity.“ I mutter under my breath, burying my face in my hands. This is literal agony. “Daniel, YOU’d know if you went up to her and talked to her! Meeting people isn’t a guessing game - and look who’s talking! I hate approaching people first too, but this case of yours is too severe.“

“You realize you’re being hypocritical right now?“ He dares to ask me.

“You realize you’re being an actual coward right now?“ I retort, narrowing my eyes at him with what I can only describe as a threat put into a look. Oh if looks could kill, I would’ve killed his doubts asap.

He tilts his head back, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans back into his seat, “You can’t be serious....”

“They are serious, but more importantly - they are right.“ Says a voice I recognize immediately. One that belongs to the guy that just occupied one of the last two open seats at our table - Andrew. “And you gotta stop torturing yourself like this, Dan.“

“Yourself and us. This feels like watching paint dry with ‘Never Gonna Give You Up’ as a soundtrack for it.“ I intervene, “It’s absolutely fucking brutal.“

Daniel’s gaze switches between Andrew and I, clearly defeated considering he’s been outnumbered and very clearly second-guessing his decision to be sitting here with us right now. “Two against one, this ain’t even fair.” He finally says through an uneasy sigh.

“It’s perfectly fair in democracy - two votes you go talk to Taylor, one - yours - for the opposite option.“ I shrug my shoulders, fist-bumping Andrew the table. “So...I think you know what you gotta do.“

His gaze does a few more back-and-fourths between the two of us before he mutters, “I’m so done with the two of you” and gets up out of his chair, headed to the other side of the cafeteria where Taylor’s seated with a few of her friends seniors.

“We’re done with you too!“ We call out to him in unison, watching as he walks away, no doubt having an inward debate on what to say or do. 

“He’s gonna thank us one day.“ Andrew says, taking a sip of his soda.

I nod, a small smile appearing on my face as I say: “Ten bucks says he’ll get too in-depth about the weather.“

Andrew snorts, almost choking on his drink as he bursts out laughing, “I’m not picking that up, I can’t afford to lose another ten bucks to a bet with you.”

“Smart guy, smart guy.“ I chuckle, stealing the unopened soda can Daniel left behind. Considering he has sat down at the seniors’ table and appears to be making casual small talk by the looks of it, I don’t think he’ll be returning to complain about the stolen drink anytime soon.

#the dark pictures man of medan #the dark pictures #the dark pictures house of ashes #the dark pictures anthology #the dark pictures little hope #dark pictures anthology #dark pictures little hope #little hope #man of medan #little hope daniel #little hope taylor #little hope andrew #little hope john #little hope angela #daylor #taniel #platonic relationships #platonic reader #until dawn #supermassive games #supermassive #video game #video game fanfic #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #fandom #humor #requests open #request

[writingwithcolor]

Magical person in history, on not intervening on human rights issues

I am writing a dating sim/visual novel set in the present day. A major (non-romanceable) character is an ancient sorceress who moved from France to the Pacific Northwest in the 1850s. She is white. She is shown to have powerful magic. She also works closely with the main characters and develops personal relationships with them as she teaches them magic, giving each character comfort and advice during their respective stories.

Considering the events in America around her move-in date, there’s no way she could have missed the horrible human rights abuses going on, and there’s no way she was too powerless to help, even when most of the fighting and slavery was so far away. So I’m having trouble balancing “don’t make her a white savior by having her personally fireball Robert E. Lee” against “Hogwarts University is cancelled because Dumbledorette didn’t care about slavery.” I had the idea that the magical regulating body back home in France didn’t want her to intervene due to political reasons, so she helped out in small ways that could safely fly under the radar. She later realized that she prioritized her social standing over the suffering of countless others, so she began making a point of reducing human suffering as much as she could.

I can’t imagine this will show up in more than one small scene, but doing it wrong could really sour the whole thing. Is this backstory still icky? Should I just not mention it and let readers headcanon what they please?

I’m wondering what you think was happening in the PNW at the time for the fighting and slavery to be “far away.” Washington State had the Cayuse War at exactly this time period, Oregon didn’t ratify treaties and was calling for the extermination of “the I*dian race” in roughly this time period, and California’s Gold Rush created the California Genocide starting heavily in the 1840s, picking up steam in the 1850s, which included slavery of California Natives thanks to a law enacted in 1850 that lasted for 13 years. 

This is all from the top five results of googling “pacific northwest genocide 1850”, for the record. It’s not exactly hidden history.

So suddenly your character’s lack of movement in healing the poisoned populations as disease ravaged the area, in attempting to stop or at least buy and free the enslaved Natives being auctioned on their doorstep, or in attempting to get treaties ratified and honoured looks a lot more damning.

This is not counting any of the future events that happened at the turn of the century, including the Chinese Exclusion Act, the Hawai’i monarchy being overthrown, and Federal Order 9066, which is the WWII concentration camps (that included Japanese, German, and Italian individuals). This is just to name a handful of coastal issues in the next 100 years, completely ignoring Jim Crow, residential schools, the San Francisco Earthquake (which nearly had Chinese people relocated to the worst land imaginable for gentrification purposes, had the Empress of China not stepped in), and many others.

In short: she would have had hundreds of opportunities to end suffering, and focusing on a single event as a small scene feels disproportionate to how much she could have done.

And honestly? The French were no angels. 

The Second French Colonial Empire was one of the largest empires in history, and it began in 1830, covering roughly a third of Africa. The First French Colonial Empire began in the 1600s, and had both India and North America, primarily Canada.

She was white. French. You don’t specify her birth year other than “ancient”, but considering the sheer amount of territory-grabbing France has been doing since Normandy invaded England in the eleventh century AD, I’m going to assume her birth year is somewhere more recent than that. Therefore, I’m going to assume she has been around the Catholic Missionary Attitude that France had; one could call that attitude the bedrock of its existence for at least a millennia (and is still visible in modern day).

So tell me: when did she break out of it? What made her even care about human atrocities, when she has likely grown up watching France commit them her entire life? 

Because let me just say, she has had plenty of opportunities to realize she did nothing in the face of her neighbours’ hatred of people not like them, and she has never taken them before. 

Did she (or her parents, if she was born around this time) decry Napoleon re-introducing slavery in France in 1802? Side with Haiti when it declared independence in 1804, and hate that the government forced Haiti to pay for the “theft” of slaves and land (that was only paid off in 1947)? Is she presently championing for France to pay Haiti the money it wrongfully took from the country? Did she hate the delays in stopping the French slave trade, which took 11 years to actually stop after it was banned on paper? 

Unconditional emancipation was only reached in 1848, after all. I don’t care if she was born in 1830, there was some sort of major racial event happening in France all throughout the late 1700s to mid-1800s. Where did she side then?

Abolitionism was not an unknown concept in France, so it is possible she had already been working towards it quietly, but that would mean she would have felt guilt at inaction much earlier, depending on when she began decrying slavery—if she was even delayed in decrying it, which I will admit is possible. 

And if she was an abolitionist, would she have even listened to the French government in not at least easing the genocide around her? Because she would have watched nearly 100 years of the French dragging their feet on stopping slavery in their empire, and known how BS it all was… if she saw it that way.

That’s just abolitionism, and is not even counting the French relationship with the Native population in Quebec and the Great Lakes region, which is a giant tangle of proxy wars, colonialism, missionary work, and very, very, very complex relationships that started off good and ended terribly.

So I ask again: why did she only start caring then?

Speaking of proxy wars, the Napoleon Empire wanted a Confederate victory, because the Confederacy was its source of cotton and the American Civil War created a “cotton famine” in France that basically forced the textile industry into a massive downsizing. The Confederacy also tolerated Napoleon’s plans for expanding the empire in Mexico, which actually had begun in December of 1861.

So when it comes to how a magical board would rule—even though France was officially neutral in the war, the court of public opinion (among politicians and capitalists) was more on the Confederate side than the Union side. Many politicians secretly worked with the Confederacy, until they abandoned them when the Union showed signs of winning. The only reason France officially remained neutral is because a war with the British was inevitable if they acknowledged the Confederacy, and Napoleon didn’t want that.

I shall work under the assumption that because it was rather literally on her doorstep when she moved to America, she lost insulation to it (if she hadn’t thought about it before), but I will say how iffy that makes her look in the long term if she had so many opportunities beforehand (at the very least, seeing slaves in France).

My other option is the word “ancient” is liberally applied and she was only in her 20s or 30s when 1850 hit, and therefore had not had many opportunities to see otherwise (but she still would have seen slaves in France, likely).

Onto the white guilt and white saviour aspects

Strictly from a writing perspective, you have to determine if she changed the course of history, or not. This would not necessarily be within the realm of white saviour, seeing as white people were the only ones listened to at the time. You can see people who changed the course of history in this period by looking up the pastor who insisted Lincoln hold fair trials for the Dakota, which brought the execution count from over 200 down to 38. You can also look at Alice Fletcher, who made quite a few laws designed to protect Native people, but whether or not they were successful is up for debate (and she regretted some of the laws she helped enact).

If not, then you have the current tangle you’re dealing with.

Option 1

She was unestablished in America and relied on the magical regulations board to protect her, and she figured working small and under the radar would mean she could do more good long-term by not being killed, so long as you establish that such a threat is viable.

This option only works if she’s an active advocate for the slew of other racist acts that pass once she’s settled in America, of which I gave many examples above.

Option 2

She actually did change the course of history in perhaps a mixed way, or perhaps a positive way. She could have relied completely on being a white, well-to-do voice in the community, which would have granted her some privilege without using a drop of magic. 

This can apply to any point in history, seeing as there were a lot of others to pick from. It would be particularly useful once suffrage was achieved, and if she was part of suffrage, did she call out Susan B. Anthony’s racism? Did she encourage allowing non-whites to vote?

Option 3 

She was slow to care, and did not actually understand what a big deal it was that such atrocities were happening until it was too late. This leads to her dedication to atonement the strongest, but you have to be careful about white guilt. This option can go along with option 1.

This allows her to be a passive player in future racist events, but makes her an even more privileged white character who PoC will have a hard time seeing as kindly, and you should go out of your way to show white players how unkind and privileged she was, and perhaps still is.

Option 4 

she doesn’t actually care much, because she has a president of not caring about atrocities happening in France, and her bigotry shows up in other ways in modern day and she’s just a kindly-but-bigoted character. She’s your wonderful grandma who you have beautiful memories with… she just doesn’t care about anyone not white.

This can go along with option 3, as she was so slow to realize that she is still bigoted and hasn’t done any work, but her racism is going to be more covert and you’ll have to do research on microaggressions and how to frame them.

Based off the way her lack of action is framed in-story and how little a plot role it plays, I would say that option 4 with a dash of option 3 appears to be the most likely interpretation of her character by PoC. She’s lip-service to progress, at present, but seems to have made no strides in losing her social standing to be an ally.

Now here’s why I don’t think you should let readers headcanon her however they want:

White players in particular are going to minimize her culpability in what happened, and think that she did all that she could, and she is a Totally Redeemed Character now. In fact, they’ll probably wonder why she’s even an Atoner, because she did something, right? She helped, right? And now she’s helping and that’s plenty. She’s good to the players, so she is a Good Person.

Meanwhile PoC players are going to see yet another white author ignore the fact that colonialism was happening en masse at the time, and that white people deeply benefited from it, and are going to see the “it happened in the past why do you keep bringing up racism?” defence continued.

Let her be flawed. Let her be on stolen land and acknowledge it every time she teaches them something, and let her sit and exist in the guilt that happens when she realizes she could have stopped the theft but didn’t. Let her not wallow in self hate, but acknowledge her mistake with every lesson the main characters receive, and let her work on righting that wrong by championing “land back” causes that centre Indigenous voices.

Let her dialogue options show every trace of how the past is not over because the past’s actions are still being felt and reparations have not been made. The settler state is still controlling the land she has made home and she knows exactly what they did to get it, and she passes that knowledge on.

Let players be uncomfortable with the knowledge that, if they sit by and “only do small things when they can, to not lose anything”, they are complicit. Let white people see they must well and truly denounce what has been given to them by their racist, colonial ancestors in order for PoC to “stop talking about racism.”

Make her use whatever income she makes be paid in part to Native causes, as rent for the land she occupies unfairly. Make her refuse to teach bigoted students who want “mystic secrets” that aren’t hers to give, that were appropriated centuries ago. Make part of her life’s work be hiding away Black and Indigenous spiritual leaders to minimize the loss.

Let her past be imperfect. And do not force redemption on her, but instead let her own the fact she made catastrophic mistakes that will not be redeemed until land has been returned to the Native population. Until all forms of slavery are abolished. Until colonial powers give back all the resources and finances they stole from their colonized regions. Until the privilege that white people spilled so much blood to secure is no more.

Because if you want her to truly be a good character who does not support racism? That is the level you have to step towards.

Everything else is simply whiteness trying to make itself feel better.

~Mod Lesya

#Writing question #submission #ask #genocide #colonialism #fantasy #witches #racism #white privilege #white women #white savior #white guilt #ally #asks #Long post

[letshaikyuu]

Hi! ☺️ Can I request a one shot where the reader is dating Oikawa and he introduces her to the team but she looks like one of those types of mean girls so the team thinks she’s gonna be one of his old gfs that are really clingy or rude to the team but she actually ends up being the most wholesome/sweetest person ever? Thank you 🥺

ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴏɪᴋᴀᴡᴀ ᴄᴀɴ ꜱᴄᴏʀᴇ

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: when Oikawa brings his girlfriend to practice one day, the team sees all of his exes in her; but, Seijoh is definitely in for a nice surprise

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: fluff, mild angst if you really squint and think deeper than the story itself – totally unnecessary if you ask me 

ᴀ/ɴ: making Oikawa’s life sad and difficult is my spiritual calling, thank you anon <3 it’s no 5k smut or 10k slow-burner, but I hope my 2k fluff will be able to make up for the fact that I literally had nothing prepared for him this morning T^T

Oikawa talking nonsense during practice wasn’t anything unusual; especially during the evening practice after a school day, and while everyone needed some well-deserved rest, Oikawa seemed to fuel himself with his nonstop talking.

“Is there an off button on him or something?” Makki groaned as he listened to Oikawa talk about how he made a new Pinterest board the previous night with new milk bread recipes he found and wanted to try; and when he said he, he meant Iwaizumi because out of the two, he’s the only decent cook.

“I’m not spending my money and time on making you milk bread, Shittykawa.” Iwaizumi made himself clear as he was folding the net. He rolled his eyes when Oikawa started whining, telling them how he really needed a good and decent milk bread made for next week. It was then that Mattsun came along and joined the trio bickering, Oikawa’s comment stuck with him as he smirked at the whining boy.

“Since when do you need a milk bread made for a specific day? You eat them whenever no matter the time and day.” He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back on one of the net’s poles, smirk widening as he saw the blush on Oikawa’s face growing in intensity. Makki looked between the two, not missing Mattsun’s wink, and seemed to catch on. Iwaizumi looked among the three, interested, but still too tired to actually keep up with the conversation itself.  

However, the way his best friend was glowing red, hands manically waving in front of him made Iwaizumi all the more curious. He looked between the smirking pair and his frantic friend, all the puzzle pieces seemingly falling into place. But, that meant...

“You have a girlfriend, Shittykawa?” Oikawa pouted and averted his eyes from Iwaizumi’s stare. Bingo.

“I can’t believe you’re dating someone and didn’t bother telling us,” Makki jokingly sobbed and wiped a fake tear from his eye, watching as Oikawa buried his face in his hands. “How long have you two been together?”

They could hear Oikawa murmur something, but it was inaudible, his words muffled by his hands. “Come again?” Mattsun teased, approaching the shorter male and removing his hands from his red face. Iwaizumi stood by the side, smirking at the thought of his best friend having a girlfriend. It was most likely one of his one-week relationships, he thought as he waited for Oikawa to answer.

“Three months...”

Huh? They looked at each other and back to Oikawa, the male pouting, the gym floor grabbing his attention. His eyes were fixed downwards, not daring to look any of his closest friends in the eye. He knew what they would say, but he didn’t have the will to listen to that same conversation for the millionth time.

“You’re telling me,” Iwaizumi started, slowly approaching the trio and leaving the net behind, “you’ve been dating someone for three months and didn’t tell us?” Oikawa visibly flinched at the way he emphasized the duration of his relationship. If he were in Iwaizumi’s shoes, he would’ve felt bad and left out as well.

“I knew what you were going to say, so I stayed quiet,” Oikawa said to the trio, shrugging his shoulders.

“Wow, what a valid reason.” Makki joked and slightly glared at the brunette, “we have to repeat it all the time because you never learn.”

Oikawa’s eyes widen at his comment, but immediately narrowed. “I never learn? What is that supposed to mean, Makki?” He crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze hard as he looked at him. Both Mattsun and Iwaizumi could see where this was heading, so they decided to intervene.

“What he meant, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi stood a few meters in front of him, “is that...you never know how to pick out a proper partner for yourself.”

Oikawa looked taken aback, again, as the other two nodded and confirmed Iwaizumi’s comment. “That’s true. All your previous relationships included bitchy chicks, how do you even find them?”

“I, how, what...that’s so not true!?” He stumbled on his words, curls bouncing on the top of his head as he rapidly shook his head in denial. “I always choose them right.”

Mattsun quirked an eyebrow at that comment. “So, when your second ex-girlfriend came to practice and poured soda on you because you spent ‘too much time at practice’ and cheated on you the next day, is your vision of choosing the right girl?”

“Or when your third ex-girlfriend started spreading rumors at school that we’re all gay and fuck each other daily in the locker room? And, she also cheated on you that same week.”

Oikawa kept quiet while they started listing all of his failures of relationships. “Okay, fine!” He stopped them, too embarrassed to have them continue rambling on, “I know I’ve made a few mistakes in the past-“

“A few?”

“Oh, shut it Makki,” he glared at him before continuing, “I am aware of my mistakes, but she’s different. This relationship is different.” He looked at them, his eyes pleading them to accept his decision, but they were all too familiar with Oikawa’s state post-breakup to let him go through it again.

“I’m not sure, Oikaw-“

“I’ll bring her to our next practice!” He cut Iwaizumi off, his sudden yell surprising all of them. Oikawa seemed to realize what he blurted out and ran a hand through his hair, cursing at himself for rushing into things. “I didn’t want you guys to meet her, yet,” he started, sighing as he looked back to his friends, “but, I promise you. She’s different from the others.”

The trio exchanged glances, Oikawa’s pleading eyes dancing across every one of his friends.

Iwaizumi sighed. “Fine. We can’t wait to meet her then.”

Oikawa scoffed, looking at his friends one more time before exiting the gym. “I’ll prove you guys wrong.”

Oikawa wanted to barf. He had the urge to turn around and run away from the gym doors and you, he had the need to be alone; even though standing beside him was someone he could finally call his true partner. A girlfriend who didn’t want to spread false rumors, who didn’t want to pour soda on him, who didn’t want to cut his volleyball shoes...

Oikawa finally felt like he hit the jackpot with you, but, what if he stumbles upon a dead-end once again, when the team finally sees you and tell him you’re not right for him?

“Tooru,” your gentle voice pulled him away from his thoughts, “why are you so nervous?” You tightly held one of his hands in yours while the other carried a bag filled with sweets. You looked at your boyfriend’s worried face, providing him with a reassuring smile to calm down his nerves.

“I’m just...I don’t even know.” He let out a groan, throwing his head back. Few weren’t aware of Oikawa’s past relationships, they were that known and the way they were broken off was also something to remember. You were one of the many that knew exactly how Oikawa Tooru got screwed over, time and time again.

“We can do this.” You give his hand a tight squeeze and placed your hand on the gym door, ready to push it open. “Ready?” He looked at you again, a nervous smile on his face as he weakly nodded; he was nowhere near ready, but he had to do this for you and the relationship.

“Ready.”

Pushing the door open, the sound made the team stop their practice to look at the people entering. The rest of the team was aware that they’d have a visitor, but none of them were particularly excited when they found out it was Oikawa’s girlfriend.

“Do I have to bring a new set of shoes for Oikawa or hope that she won’t spread any more false rumors?” It was Kunimi who talked first after finding out about the visitor, making everyone chuckle and laugh at the memory.

“Maybe she’ll do something completely different,” Makki added in on the fun, the laughter ongoing as the team waited for their captain to come with his new girlfriend.

Iwaizumi cracked a smile as well, but he couldn’t overlook the nervous feeling in his stomach. His best friend may be an idiot, but he wasn’t a bad person. It was like everything was against Oikawa finding a decent partner, let alone someone he can consider for the long-run.  

He only watched as they joked around, his eyes constantly looking at the gym door, waiting for them to open. He prayed that whoever comes into the gym and beside Oikawa, was someone he could actually call Oikawa’s girlfriend.

And there, at the entrance was someone who had a striking resemblance to Oikawa’s previous girlfriends.

“Doesn’t she remind you of ex-girlfriend number four?” Yahaba whispered to the team, eyeing you curiously. “What did she do again?” Kindaichi whispered back, the number of relationships his senpai has had overflowing his memory. “She’s the one who cut his jersey because he had practice and couldn’t fit in a date,” Makki added, not whispering at all and earning himself a hard slap across the back. He winced and glared at Iwaizumi, rubbing the sore spot as he straightened his back.

“Guys,” by the time the commotion settled, Oikawa and his girlfriend were already in front of them. “This is my girlfriend, Y/N. And Y/N, this is my team.” He introduced you to the team, you smiling at them before formally introducing yourself.

“It’s nice to finally, meet all of you! Oikawa talks highly about his team and I couldn’t wait to meet you,” you smiled at the team, but they only looked at you shocked in return. Makki leaned in to whisper in Watari’s ear. “She smiled...but there was no hint of evil in it?” He yelped at the force of Iwaizumi’s hand slapping the back of his neck.

He was also the first one to approach you. “Nice to meet you Y/N.” He shook your hand and give you a small smile, “I’m Iwaizumi Hajime, your boyfriend’s best friend.”

And, with that, every team member introduced themselves to you.

“Why is she acting so nice?” The team gathered around the bench, looking at you as you laugh and talk to Oikawa; his face burning red as the tips of his ears become hot. Iwaizumi kept looking closely at you, not knowing what to make of this situation. Since when could Oikawa find someone like you on his own?

“What is wrong with all of you!?” Oikawa whispered, appearing out of nowhere and making Makki drop his water bottle. They all look at their captain, his face red, but they couldn’t guarantee that it was the same blush he had from earlier, while he was talking to you.

“You’re acting like she’s the spawn of Satan! Can’t you see she’s normal?” He sighed exasperatedly and ran a hand through his hair. “Well, considering that all your previous girlfriends were the devil itself, you gotta give us a break,” Mattsun added and looked at you talking to Kyoutani and Yahaba.

Both of them looked rather calm and willing to talk to you, to the surprise of many. Kyoutani isn’t someone who you’d describe as people-friendly, but he didn’t look intimidating as usual while talking to you, and he seemed interested in whatever you were talking about.

Oikawa glared at him and turned his direction to Iwaizumi, looking directly at his best friend and making Iwaizumi’s eyes widen in surprise with the intensity of his stare. “Don’t you trust me?”

Iwaizumi was ready to answer, he truly was, but he couldn’t help but thank you for arriving at the given moment – his words wouldn’t be so encouraging and positive.

“Hey, guys!” They turn to look at you rummaging through the bag you brought with you. “I know how hard practice is for all of you, so I bought some protein bars for you guys!” Out of the bag, you took out a dozen and more protein bars, handing them out to each of them. “I didn’t know what kind you guys liked, but Oikawa did tell me the brand you all preferred, so I just bought two of each kind!”

Adding all the sweet and caring acts together, the team stopped to think. Maybe Oikawa really found someone nice and caring. At least, that’s what the team could describe you. There wasn’t anything that made them etiquette you as a rude and clingy person, like all his previous girlfriends, so they relaxed. Maybe this was the time Oikawa actually made the right choice.

“Is there poison in this or?”

“Makki!” It was Oikawa this time that slapped him at the back of his neck at his joke, making you laugh and, soon enough, the rest of the team join in. It was unbelievable, but Oikawa actually hit the jackpot this time with you, and Iwaizumi could finally, sigh in relief.

#oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru #oikawa imagine #oikawa headcanons #hq oikawa #oikawa x y/n #oikawa fluff #haikyuu #haikyū!! #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu writing #hq x you #hq x y/n #hq x reader

[plus-size-reader]

Poor Baby pt.2

Billy Hargrove x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1356 words

Warnings: none 

Summary:  Billy gets jealous... 

Part 2 to Poor Baby

———————————————————————————————————

You’d think that after your little charade at the pool, you and Billy would have given up on being jealous.

It didn’t get you anywhere and everyone in Hawkins was now well aware of who Billy belonged to.

There simply was no reason for it.

The two of you were mature adults who could handle their issues in a civilized fashion-

“You’re fucking Harrington, aren’t you?!”  

-Scratch that...one of you was a mature adult.

Steve had just offered to help you with an english paper. Your grade was plummeting in that class, so you agreed. It was nothing more than that, but you should have known that Billy wouldn’t believe that.

If he thought you were jealous, he was a million times worse. If you even looked at another guy, the accusations went flying.

In fact, most of your arguments were about other people.

You knew that Billy loved you, you knew that he only got jealous because he was insecure and afraid to lose you. You knew that in your mature adult brain but right now, it didn’t matter. How dare he accuse you of something like that?

“Fuck you Hargrove, I just needed help in French’s class” you bit back. It was rare for Billy to point his anger toward you but you weren’t going to let it stand, no matter what.

You were his girlfriend, not some freshman he could bully into washing his car.  

“Why Harrington then? Anybody could help you” he grumbled, lowering his volume ever so slightly, though not by much. The final bell had just rung, sending students toward the parking lot from every direction. 

...That included you and Billy. 

Someone probably should have stopped you, but they all knew better. Even the staff didn’t want to get between one of your lovers quarrels. It simply wasn’t worth it for them to intervene. 

You two would be back to sucking face in the hallways before they knew it anyway. 

It was just the way that you two worked. The ups were so up that you felt like you were flying high about the world but the downs were more down each and every time you fought. 

Luckily, you had been together long enough that it was never all that bad in comparison. Eventually you would just decide that it was stupid and go back to him or he’d show up at your house after a few too many and order you back to his side. 

Not that you were even considering that right now. 

“Yeah? Are you gonna help me with an English paper Hargrove?” you spit, knowing well enough that he was failing too. Clearly, not just anybody could help you after all. 

If you were fighting with anyone else, he would have backed down by now because that was kind of a low blow but Billy didn’t even blink. In fact, when you looked up at him, you found that he was actually smiling at you. 

This sick fuck thought that he was funny. 

“I meant a girl, princess. Why don’t you get Nancy Wheeler to help you?” he suggested, hitting a new level of petty that you hadn’t been expecting, though you were more than prepared to match it. 

“Actually,” you laughed, “I was planning on asking Mr.Wheeler if she was free, or do you two already have plans?” You scoffed, rolling your eyes at his childish demeanor. 

Words never bothered Billy, not really. 

He looked at verbal fights with you as a twisted sort of foreplay that he got to control-but you weren’t backing down like you normally would. 

After a while of going back and forth, you usually would hit a point where you’d give up trying to get through to him. You’d just sit through the whole car ride staring out the window in silence but you two had long passed that marker. 

You were in it this time. 

Billy had accused you of the one thing you weren’t just going to brush to the side. 

You had never been anything but loyal when it came to him and the fact that he would even have the balls to suggest something other than that was absolutely ridiculous. 

It hurt, but you weren’t going to let him know that. Instead, you were going to put up a fight, because you were tired of having to grit your teeth and bare it. 

 “Nah, I was hoping I’d be with you later but I guess you’ll be busy” he countered, losing interest at this point. If there was one thing you knew about Billy more than anything else, it was that he was a sore loser. 

You weren’t letting him win, so he didn’t want to play anymore. 

Again, you rolled your eyes, making your way over to the passenger side of the Chevrolet Camaro. The argument you were having had, seemingly, met its natural end. 

Billy was pouting, and you were far too tired from a long school day to keep this up anymore. Maybe just burying the hurt he’d caused was the best way to deal with his accusation. 

After all, you two were constantly going back and forth, saying hurtful things and never taking them back. It was a vicious cycle and you just couldn’t keep it up all the time. 

...And the worst part was that you were both too stubborn to admit that you weren’t hard as nails all the time. 

~

“Look, I know you aren’t fucking him” Billy started, breaking the stagnant silence between you too as best he could. 

If there was one thing that Billy hated more than losing, it was being ignored. You knew it but this time, you weren’t ignoring him out of spite as a punishment for his actions. You literally didn’t have it in you to talk to him right now. 

“He wants you though, y’know...But I guess that isn’t your fault” he kept going, rambling in that way that he usually did when he got too in his head. This was the part of your relationship that no one would ever believe. 

That Billy was so vulnerable.  

Usually, you would stop him in his tracks with a kiss at this point but you just kept facing forward, watching the pavement disappear beneath the hood of the car as Billy sped down the road. 

An apology out of Billy was rare, but you had a feeling that he was building up to one right now and you sure as hell weren’t going to interrupt him. 

“Are you really not gonna talk to me?” he grumbled, proving you wrong. Even when he knew that he really fucked up, an apology was too much to ask from Billy. 

But he had a point. 

Were you going to talk to him? Did he deserve a whole conversation after everything he’d already said? Sure, you weren’t innocent by any means but he’d started it. 

Him and his stupid jealousy. 

“You’re a jealous fuck,” you huffed, letting out a long sigh before continuing. “But I get it” there was a softness to your voice, one that hadn’t been there before that sparked something in Billy. 

Almost immediately his hand fell on your own, where it was resting on your left thigh. This entire thing had taken half-an-hour tops but Billy felt like he had been away from you for far too long. 

He missed you. 

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you” he allowed, taking his eyes off the road again to look at you. That moment of clarity, and conscience always hit him after he’d said something he couldn’t take back. 

Luckily, you weren’t on any kind of high horse and you weren’t about to pretend that you were innocent in all this. 

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you” you hummed in turn, leaning over to rest your head on his shoulder as he drove. It wasn’t a real apology technically, but it was real for you and Billy and that was enough. 

It had always been enough. 

“Besides, your hair is way better than Harrington's anyway” you teased, snuggling into his jean-clad shoulder. 

“Damn straight” 

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