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alluringjae · 3 years

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until dawn; pt. II - 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: 12.2k

⤑ genre: ANGST, fluff, romance, smut (f receiving, dom!jeno waow, dirty talk, wrap it everyone) | broke architecture major!jeno, historical figure!reader, enemies to lovers!au, college!au, night at the museum-inspired!au

⤑ warnings: references to actual historical figures, explicit language, graphic details, major heartbreak caused by another party, expect time jumps too

⤑ author’s note: happy jeno day!! i’ve been so excited to post this part, and i’m happy we’re here!! perhaps, this is the last long fic i’ll write for a while so i can rest, but i’ll still be posting short stories within the weeks to come! i’m excited for may to say the least hehe

btw, for the smut scene (indicated with **), i highly recommend you listen to strange (feat. hillary smith) by kris bowers!! this song is from the bridgerton soundtrack, and oh man, the feels!!

with that, enjoy!

italicized text either means they are personal notes or flashbacks.

this was meant to be more angsty, but either way, i screamed every time i wrote something gut-wrenching.

⤑ taglist: @renjunniehome

⤑ ctto above!!

⤑ leave me some feedback, constructive criticism, or hellos!

“You ready to get your butt beaten by me, Lee?”

“Prepare your final words when I win instead, (Y/L/N).”

Mischievous banter exchanged between you two became a new norm. Almost every night, someone within the art pieces established a contest over anything and it released the competitive sides of you two. So far, Jeno has been winning. Not like it hurt your pride, but maybe just once, you could conquer one game to feel better. Not only that, there’s a mini penalty for the loser. So far, you’ve cleaned up the lobby yourself and acted cutely to everyone the entire evening (or aegyo as Jeno called it).

Tonight, a game of archery was held by the Greek gods. They pushed away any extra pieces away, leaving the whole room vacant with two boards right beside Zeus’ throne. Numerous arrows were produced and sharpened, Zeus in the center announced to everyone participating.

“It’ll be 1 on 1 games. First to go are Jeno vs (Y/N), followed by Athena vs. Hermes, Cleopatra vs. Freddie, and last would be Hades vs Aphrodite.”

Cutting the chase, you didn’t expect Jeno to be that good at archery. Sure, he told you that he took classes with his friends for fun when he was younger, though it showed that he’s a fast learner and even hit one bullseye in the middle of the game.

Not slightly threatened until the last rounds, you fixed your aim and lessened your overthinking when preparing to shoot. Thus, you scored 2 bullseyes shot. It was a close fight, having the audience on the edge on their feet again because it’s the two of you. Your dynamic with the night guard always elevated the mood, shifting their bets over and over again.

By 1 point, you received your first victory against Jeno. Unlike you, he showcased his sportsmanship sweetly without any comments of disbelief. He’s never bragged about anything big in his life, not unless it’s a high grade for his plate. Normally, he celebrated wins in a laid-back manner. But don’t be fooled: he loves giving penalties.

“This is why I don’t make bets with my friends because I really go for their weak spots.”

“You’re cynical, Lee Jeno.”

“Only if you’re close to me, (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“Aren’t we already past that stage?”

Almost halfway through his job, he sustained a meaningful friendship with you. Out of everyone, you were his default person to hang out within the nights he had a shift. If he wasn’t present, he made sure to give you small treats or gifts as much as possible. An innocent friendship, it was that the world would’ve never believed in.

Or was it?

“To celebrate your win, what do you want me to do?”

“You’re too kind for me to play around with, even if you’re the complete opposite of me.”

“I’ll make it simple and worthwhile since I don’t know when I’ll win a game again.” As your finger tapped your temple as you pondered deeply, a smart idea came through. “Grant me 3 wishes.”

He chuckled, lowering himself to view you better. “Am I like some genie now to you?”

“No room to complain, I won, didn’t I?” You grinned, raising one brow to show your dominance.

“You’re petty in your own way, aren’t you?”

“Perhaps. Now come on, I want to use my first wish.” You shrugged it off like no big deal, loving the high feeling of triumph. You lead him to the center of the lobby, where a beautiful grand piano only selected people get to play during exhibits. “Open the museum piano.”

Ever since you were brought to life, you never used it. Tempting but because people from the outside might here, maybe it’s time to try something new. A new challenge, and besides, you missed entertaining people through it. The last time you touched the delicate piano keys was to your family before you ran away.

It’s a good thing that in the shackle of keys Jeno held, the needed key was there. Unlocking the lustrous black instrument, you sat by the matching black bench. Crackling your fingers, you tested by pressing a few keys to get the hang of it again.

“What are you planning to play, (Y/N)?” Jeno leaned against the side, his arms crossed.

Humming the first notes of your piece, the nostalgia ran through your veins. “Nocturne No. 2 in E flat by Chopin.”

Your fingers took off and played each chord slowly and calmly. This piece reminded you the most of your mother, who sat by the couch in front of your old piano with your father while guests from the party they hosted crowded around you. Being the youngest, they often requested you to perform as entertainment so you always put your best foot forward. Or so you tried.

Nevertheless, no one else in your family was capable to play this piece as perfectly as you. By the way your eyes closed and your body swayed to the mellow tune, Jeno observed how you memorized this piece by heart. A passionate flame you were, outshining every pianist out there.

He wasn’t surprised at how multi-talented you were, though there’s a different kind of aura you present when you played the instrument. From your hard and tough front, you could be soft and sweet to the right people.

In a way, you showed your comfort toward the boy by serenading him with the piano. Sketching him with him in the past was one thing, but this was another. You’d sketch with people you’ve grown used to, but you play piano to people you want to cherish in your life. As dangerous as it seems, Jeno was someone special to you, only wanting to have good moments with him.

Junmyeon will always have a huge part in your museum life, but Jeno filled the emptiness that he left behind. This loneliness for a human friend vanquished thanks to Jeno, and you didn’t want to jeopardize it at all. Sure, whenever he acted like a gentleman around you, let you inside the Foreign Art Room, or brought you food sometimes, you couldn’t help feel honored.

Though lately, every time he showed off his strength when he defeated Zeus and Hades during an arm wrestle game the god held again. You seriously had to catch a breath at every flex his arms made, like the goddesses. Maybe how he pushed his black hair back when he’s drawing another plate, you’d give yourself a few extra seconds to see his long fingers skim through them. He’d bit his lower lip when he’s in too deep with his creativity, wondering if he’d bite the lower lip of the girl he’d ki-

All right, (Y/N), relax. Maybe you’re thinking this way because it’s been decades since your last relationship. You wouldn’t want to fall for another possible trap and hurt yourself again, right?

Ever since this job, Jeno’s university life drastically changed. Yes, he still hung out with his friends and performed extremely well in his classes, though he prioritized anything related to the museum wherever he was. If they were drinking out, he’d buy an extra bottle of soju for you on his way back to the dorm. Rarely does he get shitfaced anyways.

If he and Renjun visited the bookstore to purchase pens or any art-related materials, he always bought either an extra sketchpad or set of pens. Even if you were simply a figure to everyone else, he appreciated the bond you both developed.

Every night, he’d tell you about his day from the start. Normally, it consisted of a lot of schoolwork and coffee, some stories about his roommates too. Speaking of them, he’d insert a lot of humorous words about his entire group of friends, whom you learned their names too.

Mark, Jaemin, Renjun, Jisung, Chenle, and Donghyuck, each of them presented a different color in their group. Jeno, who’d admitted to being shy and quiet, grew out of his shell because of them. A friend of Jeno’s would automatically be a friend of yours, if only you were allowed to leave the museum or become a human.

Jeno learned more about your past explorations that never got documented because you no longer had an interest in jotting them down. They were adventures you’d kept to yourself, memories only close to you then would know. Except now, Jeno was another addition. You’re not the type to instantly open to people, though again, a sense of relief surrounded him every time you encounter each other. It grew gradually like a warm hug, softening your heart and breaking your walls.

The more he spent time with you, nothing feared Jeno the slightest. He’s always maintained himself intact, avoiding lines to be crossed and giving respect to those who deserve it. However, he began to question himself where exactly his feelings lie with you after Jaemin tried to set him up on a blind double date just so the best friend of his date wouldn’t feel left out.

He’s rarely one to get crushes on people, even when other girls in his college openly showed their affection towards him. Valentine’s Day or his birthday, several girls sent him chocolate or flowers. Jaemin and Renjun got sick of girls reaching out to them first so they could reach him. It’s not because he’s not the dating type, but because he’s so goal-oriented that unlike his roommates, he doesn’t have a slight clue about dating.

Though one-night stands while at a party and dating were completely different, he’d still say he had experience with girls. Plus having an older sister, he never took advantage of them. He’d rather tell them in person that the feelings weren’t mutual than ghosting them. He’s not like Jaemin anyways.

With that, he’s so lost when his heart beats twice as fast the second you’ve woken up from your posing slumber. He doesn’t comprehend how flustered he’d be when you highly insist to help him with his plate or how cute he finds it when you’re playing fetch with Mochi. On top of it, when you chose to sketch each other for one of your sketching sessions, he’d take a longer stare at your visage before he drew some strokes.

A lot of historical accounts mentioned how your beauty was the standard of the Victorian era, wherein you were the jewel of your neighborhood and numerous men wanted your hand. Women envied you, especially having high intelligence skills that were equivalent to a man. That time, that felt like a threat to most men. Though surprisingly, it turns out there were men who liked intelligent girls.

Jeno knew he liked you as a friend, though liking you past that he didn’t intend. Nor was it allowed because it’ll break one of the golden rules. Before he’d go beyond contemplating, he had to stop himself. This was so unlike him. The feelings will fleet away, he’d repeat to himself. Don’t waste a great friendship because of your silly emotions.

Individually, both of you swallowed these harboring feelings down your guts and simply kept your friendship status safe. Doing your typical activities or whatever else you could think of, none of you minded to change it whatsoever.

Unknown to you though, it was obvious to the other art pieces ones that you two practically passed off as young lovers. Although they know that pushing one towards the other went against the rules, Aphrodite begged to differ.

“Holding them back from expressing what they really feel just because of the law here is a tragedy. They should at least try, you know?”

On another typical night, Jeno invited you to the Theater Room for a movie marathon. After finding out that you’ve never seen any moving pictures, he wanted to be there to introduce it. Luck was on his side to not have plates or requirements due for the week and everyone was behaving themselves, so he started with rolling out short films from the 88mm projector. Having premade popcorn and drinks, the two of you shared roars of laughter and emotional tears.

Switching to the cd player for longer and clearer films, you’d opt to believe that you were born at the wrong time. With all these advancements, it came with a lot of new beliefs. One of them was allowing women to study and work. Then again, she was a pioneer according to historians. Without her, it wouldn’t help shape society as it is today.

Nonetheless, this movie Jeno played on the big screen was what he defined as “one of the classics”, 10 Things I Hate About You.

This outspoken character named Kat was presenting a poem to her class, trying to hold in her raw emotions towards Patrick, the boy who broke her heart. Too engaged, you didn’t notice how Jeno stretched his arms out so he could wrap one around your shoulder. Not that you were complaining, his warmth reassuring you safety.

“I hate the way you talk to me, and the way you cut your hair. I hate the way you drive my car. I hate it when you stare. I hate your big dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind. I hate you so much it makes me sick; it even makes me rhyme. I hate it, I hate the way you're always right. I hate it when you lie.” The way she attempted to keep her strong ground only reminded you of where you were weeks ago, especially once she excruciatingly broke down.

“I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry. I hate it when you're not around, and the fact that you didn't call. But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.” Only when you leaned back to the chair, you felt his arm. His thumb caressing your covered shoulder, you peeked him a little bit. His eyes fixated on the screen, absorbed in the acting and how Kat’s tears weren’t scripted as she stormed out of the classroom.

Not that you were her, but it sparked the past memory of how you merely disliked him because of his job. But as a person, not even close, not even once did you hate him. How blessed that he never judged you for it, staying patient all this time.

Right before he could look back at you, you moved your face back to resume your watching. Jeno definitely noticed what you did, though not sure as to why. Whatever it was, it wasn’t harmful.

Once the film ended, Jeno checked his watch for the time. 4 am, he wanted to do something else now instead of film viewing. You were on par with it, wanting to walk it out after being seated for hours. As you both cleaned up and bid the posters outside goodbye, the doors to the museum were locked unexpectedly. Impossible on Jeno’s half because he had the keys for every room, but he double-checked his bunch.

Alas, the keys for these doors specifically were missing. But there was no other way anyone could’ve gotten it, plus it’s not like the last person he talked to, which was Aphrodite, would need it.

Or did she?

Rather than putting any blame on each other, your only wish now was to return to your section before sunrise. You and he could just relax momentarily before yelling for help.

“Maybe we should watch another film first?”

“Alright, you choose while I return the rest.”

As Jeno inserted the cd of Cinema Paradiso inside, the background music of the opening played. He hummed the first notes, already feeling the love from this film. Another must-see classic as recommended by Renjun, he wanted to rewatch it with you.

Slowly returning each cd and film roll to their respective drawers, the melodious theme had you waltzing in the small space. Even beyond your life, classical music never gets old. Aging like fine wine, sounding spectacular as time passes because of people’s creativity.

Jeno gazed over your sudden movements, smiling uncontrollably at how immersed you were as you multi-tasked. However, you took a wrong turn by the desk and almost dropped a priceless film roll. But before you fully slipped and fell, a pair of strong arms caught you at the right time. Panting from the nerves, mostly when he was inches from your face. Never has he pressed his body this close to you to protect you, and never have you seen his captivating eyes this up close.

As enchanting as the background music of Ennio Morricone was, it only became noise once Jeno took ahold of the film roll on your hand and placing down on the desk. Taking another step closer, you were backed up by the edge. Not to mention how his height dignified his impact on you, your arms were still situated by your side with nowhere else to go.

That was until his finger elevated your chin so he could meet you on eye-to-eye level. His other hand gripping your waist, you became brave enough to place your hands by his broad shoulders. Licking your lips, you glanced at his lips quickly. But he noticed it, and as risky as this was, it was a leap of faith to take.

“May I kiss you?”

Always such a gentleman, even when he already knew how much you desired him through your returning affections. Calming your breath patterns by the speed of everything occurring, you came back to your senses. He’s the one who constantly told you not to forget your roots, so you were going to take this one.

You trust him, and he does too.

“Yes.”

Since the first film, some kind of tension increased the closer he moved or intimate his actions were towards you. You kept pushing it back in hopes not to ruin what you both have. But it only turned out to be mutual, especially how none of you held back as soon as his lips passionately clashed yours.

Tangling your arms around his neck, you stood on your tiptoes to press even closer to him. Feeling his lively heart pumping against your hollow chest, you bit his lower lip. Something you’ve secretly craved to do, he growled from the pleasure. He hoisted your waist to the desk, his impatient hands earnestly traveling all over your body. While your legs locked around his torso, your feisty nature leaned back so your entire body lied on the small desk.

Jeno was on top, placing one hand down to hold himself while the other squeezed your waist firmly. Even if you’re made of wax, you’re like an actual living woman at night. Everything about you becomes real until dawn. You emitted vulgar moans, giving him more access to your neck. Peppering a mix of soft to hard kisses, your hand teasingly snaked under his shirt. He really wasn’t joking when he bragged that he was quite ripped since he enjoyed sports and going to the gym, cupping a part of his toned abdomen.

“If you want something, all you have to do is ask.” He sluggishly sucked the area between your ear and neck, one of your weakest spots. “What’s on your mind, baby?”

The growing moistness in between your legs left a stain in your panties, trying to close your legs out of embarrassment. It’s been decades since you’ve been stimulated like this. However, Jeno beat you to it as he trailed the hand that was on your waist and lowering it right above your covered sex. He cupped it agonizingly slow, making you folding your leg from the pleasure. For a man who doesn’t date around, he knew exactly what he’s doing.

“I just kissed you, and you’re already this soaked. Can you handle me, baby?”

As the strong woman that you present yourself to be, it would selfishly take the right touch from the right man to weaken you. With his savage lips back on yours while your hands clutched on his shirt, he was simply waiting for a verbal answer, yet driving you completely mad. Everything was happening so fast, and here he was to please you in anywhere you seem fit.

You were deprived, and oh, you needed it more than ever.

However, seconds before you replied, there was loud rumbling from the main doors which stopped your devilish antics. As Jeno moved back from you to see the ruckus, you lifted yourself back up, pulling back your dress sleeves and flattening out the creases. The last thing you wanted was a trail of familiar red marks from the aggressive male, finding any reflective surfaces to check.

“I wouldn’t be that dumb to leave you hickies now, would I?” Jeno ended your worries as he placed his hands by your side again. His face leaned towards yours again, reliving the warmth in your cheeks. His lips were plumper, catching traces of your coral lipstick smudged there down to his jaw. He slotted himself again between your legs, grazing a hand on your waist and the other to your warm cheek. “The door’s unlocked now, and it’s 5 am. Do you want to clean up now?”

You playfully scoffed, aware that neither of you had plans to do that yet. Such a player while in the heat of the moment.

“Spare me 15 more minutes with you first.”

Hiding the romance you’ve both built failed without trying. Aphrodite spotted all the signs from your open physical affection and words of admiration, calling you two out in front of everyone without shame. She is the goddess of love, after all. You couldn’t fool her even if you tried.

Plus, she’s the one who locked the two of you up in the Theater Room that night. But neither of you know that.

“Sketch my ideal home?” Jeno bent down to the table, testing out his newly bought pens so they wouldn’t spill.

“Isn’t that why you decided to pursue Architecture in the first place? Come on now!” You pestered across him, opening your new sketchpad since your last one ran out of pages. As expected, Jeno bought you one when he went to the bookstore. As much as you insisted not to because he should use the money somewhere else, he did it anyway. He loved your works, encouraging you in any way he could.

When he was reminded of his humble beginnings of his passion for architecture by you, never had he envisioned exactly how his perfect home would be like. Settling down was so far beyond his mind, only focusing to graduate university then study for the licensure exams. However, he did miss drawing something for fun, not as a requirement. He also was the one who took charge of designing his dorm.

“Fine, only if you draw what your ideal home would’ve been if you never left London.”

Now as lovers, the only addition to your relationship were the public and private exchanges of affection. Deep conversations, film viewing, back and forth banter, you’re both still the same competitive duo everyone expected to be together. In public, the two of you held hands, hugged, kissed each other cheeks too when it felt right. Cleopatra’s face of fake nausea was priceless every time, while Princess Diana, Anne, and Katherine enjoyed it. It’s been years since they’ve seen this glow of adoration in you. Bit by bit, you’re going back to the old you. Except now, you’re a lot stronger.

Perhaps, this version of you proved wrong for the need for romance. Even if you made the choice not to settle down then, it would’ve been different if Jeno was in your universe then.

“Are you done there?” Jeno asked while you were finishing up your masterpiece. Life in London sounded fun when you were younger, having all these ideas on interior design and the like. An innocent time.

Instead of replying, you strode to his side and compared your pieces together. He pictured a two-story home, with a backyard and rooftop area. He definitely wanted to stay in the city as his whole life was based there. Although you preferred living in the countryside more for more freedom, you gave it a shot by pinpointing every detail of a wealthy typical Victorian-era home you liked. You desired a spacious lobby with a grand staircase in the middle, a crystal chandelier there too. The living room would have a small library and a grand piano, where wide doors leading to the grasslands were beside it.

Considering you two lived from different times, in a way your ideal homes were similar. Somewhere private, surrounded by nature and minimal furniture, you’re curious as to how it would look if the two of you fused them together. A mix of old and new, will it look pretty?

“What will look pretty?” Jeno questioned your random thought, looking back and forth at your sketches. “You know who’s pretty though?”

“If you say what I think you’re going to say, I’m lea-”

“You.”

Jeno has gotten flirtier since that night, always finding the right opportunity to flatter you. Although you denied them out of embarrassment, the butterflies in your stomach can’t lie to you.

You’re so smitten, and so was he.

Jeno’s always one to follow the rules, but so far, he’s been breaking some of them already.

Just last night, he gave Renjun access to the lively museum because he needed more research regarding you. Initially, he practically interviewed Jeno for every piece of information he gathered because he used to be so deep in the books to study everything about you. Now in the past, Renjun still couldn’t forget how Jeno drunkenly admitted how crazy he was going to be over you and your coldness whilst sobering up in the dorm.

He didn’t understand one bit by that, especially when you’re technically dead. But by the sight of the first piece Renjun saw alive, which was Zeus, he almost passed out. Piece by piece, he viewed these artworks come to life from his fresh eyes. Right before he could’ve screamed when Athena shot a lightbulb in their exhibit, you happily called out Jeno’s name.

Renjun froze on the spot upon seeing your wax figure come to life. He’s browsed through this museum numerously due to the new exhibits, but lately, he checked your section out to find any tiny details that were linked to your life. Aside from the sketchpad, compass, and hairpins, he wanted to know if there was more to your life as an explorer.

As human interactions except the night guard weren’t allowed, Renjun needed help for his project in Women Studies. Just like Jeno’s assignment, you aided him. Fruitfully answering every question he gave you, Athena popped out of nowhere to inspect Jeno.

“I see you’re breaking another rule.”

“I’m sorry, Athena. He was desperate, and it would be selfish of me to let him fail.”

“This is the last one I’ll let slide, alright?” Athena huffed, not impressed by the reckless behavior Jeno acquired over time. She saw this coming, but for a change, she couldn’t punish him. He was a young adult, still learning more about life. Only will she step in if things turn for the worst. “I can’t believe I’ve gained a soft spot for you.”

Jeno laughed, hugging the figure like his older sister. “You love me though!”

Glad to say, Renjun aced his project and kept his word of not telling anyone about the happenings in Jeno’s job. Jeno even made a makeshift non-disclosure contract so Renjun wouldn’t spill the slightest details.

Lately, so much has been happening in the museum that having alone time with each other was rare. And when you did, the two of you made sure to maximize it and make every intimate moment count. From each touch, each longing kiss, each moan, and groan, never were you left hanging whether you’re at the Theater Room, Jeno’s office, or the Foreign Art Room.

The only time the two of you went beyond the boundaries was at the indoor garden. Jeno managed to get the key to it, lighting up some candles before you invited you inside. Thanks to the magic of the Greek gods, the cameras were bewitched to display fake imageries when security checks in the morning after.

Upon your deep conversations, you’ve mentioned once or twice about the indoor garden. It was the latest addition of the museum, opening in the early 2000s. Because it was a sacred place, no art piece was ever allowed inside.

Yet again, Jeno challenged the rules again when he invited you inside. A few minutes before, he set up some lights along the hallway of the garden, where he placed a blanket, a picnic basket, and his laptop right at the end of it. The best place to view everything, he just knew you’d love it.

He was undoubtedly right once you gasped at such a pretty sight. Seeing the silhouettes of various flowers and plants together with the night sky with all the stars sparkling, it was like you’re attending another ball with your sisters, who were looking for suitors then.

Once Jeno leisurely led you until the end, he brought out all the delicacies from the basket. One of them was this Italian savory dish of dough with toppings such as cheese and pepperoni, or pizza as they named it. The next ones were fresh strawberries and melted chocolate, followed by grape juice.

“I’d drink actual alcohol with you again, only if I didn’t get shitfaced and do my job properly.”

“Point taken. Besides, this is close enough. So pour me a drink please.”

Perhaps this was the closest to a date Jeno could ever ask you out to. With the restrictions and being constrained with time, he brainstormed all sorts of ways to bring the outside world to you. From simply letting you wander around this fascinating room, he unleashed the inner romantic in him. None of his friends would’ve thought since they never asked him about it, so he kept it to himself only. Finally, he’s satisfied with what he prepared. After eating, the two of you would watch more films before the sun rose again.

You’re just the right person for him at the moment he can act that way.

After your quiet stroll and sitting back down, Jeno surprisingly handed you a tiny box.

“A gift?”

“Open it.” He sipped on his juice, paying attention to your actions. Gently untying the box, the amazement in your eyes couldn’t fathom such a lovely present. No words were required to verify that Jeno outdid himself again, just your facial expression alone is enough.

When Jeno said that he pays attention to the tiny details, he doesn’t bluff. Throughout your growing relationship, you’ve cited how you wanted another special flower in your life. Just because you couldn’t view lavender roses the same way ever again, it didn’t mean you wanted to kick them out of your life. Flowers were one of nature’s beautiful creations, so you’re wishing to find the love you once had for lavender roses in other ones.

Thus, you came across what you thought held the highest form of meaning: red roses. Despite its thorns, it’s still a marvelous flower. Innocently, you told him that just because of the memory of your father giving them to your mother on her birthday yearly.

Red roses represented true love and romance, a discreet message only those eager would know.

Jeno was one of them, which was why he reserved this gift for this very moment. It was a necklace he found through a college fair recently, a subtle red rose pendant in the center. Since he couldn’t give you huge gifts, he settled for something light. Something none of the guards or the director wouldn’t pinpoint out when they do their inspections.

“Do you like it?”

Not one utter from your mouth since you’re so hypnotized, your lips quirked up in a charming smile. “Is that even a question? This is astonishing, Jeno.”

After you attempted to put it around your neck, Jeno sighed and stepped in to help you out. “Turn around, (Y/N). Let me.”

The tension gradually heightened once you held your hair up so Jeno accessibly viewed your clean neck. Clasping the lock, it took all his might to hold himself back from you. Even from behind, your silhouette was attractive to him. The lights he set up weren’t helping the slightest of what he’s thinking to do with you.

“Done.” He breathily whispered in your ear.

If he thought he was the only one feeling something powerful, he’d be more than wrong. The lingering sensation of his slim fingers gracing your décolletage area unhinged another kind of want, the one you’ve only imagined in your mind when you were needy and alone. It shouldn’t be a sin unless you’re with the person you’ve fallen for, right?

Facing him again, the eye contact didn’t last long when you were the first one to strike a move. Jeno kissed back right away, his hands pulling you closer by your waist. Whatever sultry music Jeno played, it gave you the perfect momentum to grind on his lap. He groaned against kisses, adding his tongue. His thumbs sensually rubbed your hipbones, one of your hands toying around with his hair while the other one balled up his shirt by the chest. None of you cared if anyone caught you.

The last time you’ve been this aggressive was at the Theater Room, which eventually increased the hidden lust you’ve had towards each other. Taking things slowly at first, it’s about time to delve in for more. The mood was already set from the start, even if Jeno didn’t plan this to happen here. But being the prepared man he is, he did have a condom in his back pocket.

Your fingers trailed from his neck until his crotch. He was hard, sensing how suffocated he must be. But he kept himself in control. Locking eye contact, you sweetly spoke.

“Grant my second wish, Jeno.” That same hand of yours held one of his, planting it in your breast. “Make love to me.”

Giving the go-signal, he crashed his lips on yours while stripping you off your dress. Carefully, he turned you around to untie your tight corset. Once it fell, your neck leaned sideways as his lips attacked it madly. Your breaths were tremulous, placing both his hands on your freed breasts to knead with. His touch felt like fire on your skin, yet you couldn’t stop.

“Jeno,” Obscene moans from your lips choked out. You desired more, shifting back to face him again to attack his lips. Slowly feeling one of his hands laying you down, you spread your legs with ease just for him. He parted after your head landed on the cushion to unbutton himself. The way your mouth dropped to selfishly stare at his bare body, flexing them before getting back into position. He was fit and toned just as Cleopatra predicted.

As much as Jeno knew how wild your thoughts were getting, he was more taken aback by your perky chest.

“Fuck, you are divine.” He sucked one nipple as his fingers ventured to slip your panties down. So much was going on, you didn’t know which stimulated you more. You tried to close your legs around his hand, but he slapped your inner thigh to stop you.

The cool breeze shivered you, especially from your core. Jeno’s fingers adventurously grazed from your hip area to your lower lips. He teasingly rubbed it up and down in your essence, his index finger settling it right at your needy clit. Another moan escaped your lips, an opportunity for Jeno to slide his tongue in your mouth. Enjoying the moment, his fingers dipped inside you. A gasp broke your kiss, making him giggle in your ear.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

“Oh, angel. The things I want to do with you.”

Sliding them back and forth, curling it even, you squirmed for more. Dropping himself to meet your core, Jeno placed your legs on his shoulder. Pushing you closer, his steamy breath felt like friction. Your hips grinded against it, so he gripped on them so you stay put.

“Angel,” He chuckled darkly, his crotch tightening at how powerless you looked. “You’re so pretty.”

You were drenched from arousal. But to Jeno, you were glowing under the lights. He wanted to take his time to admire what he had done to you. His independent girl, only weak for him.

His fingers unfolded in your lower lips, diving in to your orbit. You could hardly speak from his skilled mouth, especially his tongue savagely lapping your clit in numerous paces. You’ve only daydreamed about what it could do aside from kissing, and it exceeded your expectations. By the heated sensation that had the heels of your feet digging his back deeply, you affirmed to have seen more stars than the night sky above you.

Your back arched uncontrollably while his hands grasped your hips to stay in place, the tears in your eyes formulating while tugging on his hair. Your thighs clenched around his face, but his broad shoulders widened it to taste more of you. No use of pulling away when his grip on you was tight, so you could only cry out from the pleasure.

“Fuck!”

The ringing sounds in your off were going off, your throat drying up from moaning once another orgasm was about to hit. Once the knot in you snapped, nothing could hold back your screams of pleasure whilst panting for air. Sensitive as he licked every remaining essence he caused, he smirked as he got up to unbuckle his jeans.

Oh, boy. He got quite a package behind his boxers.

Even while you were overly sensitive, you had to grasp it in your hands. He was yours, and you were his.

The way you clenched around his protected length, pausing to readjust yourself to the feeling. The foreplay deemed helpful, though the girth of him overwhelmed you. He stretched you out so good.

“Are you okay, (Y/N)?” The stunned face you made was expected, still feeling worried that it may be too much.

Biting your lip, you moaned once everything felt bearable. “You can move, Jeno.”

None of you could track exactly how many rounds you went through. Even in the semi-public area, it didn’t hinder either of you. There’s that thrill, and surprisingly enough, you both shared the liking of it. Always switching the positions, you decided to call it quits after another sloppy round in missionary. Something seeing Jeno on top, fully submitting yourself to him, made you feel calm to be vulnerable. It’s really the trust you’ve established from the start, making you rely on humans again once you’ve let the past be.

Jeno brought out another blanket, initially meant for cuddling. It was still applicable though, curling your body into a spoon towards his racing chest. Music was no longer noise, the intimacy creeping back instead of lust this time. The afterglow of Jeno, sweaty and knackered as his legs sprawled under the sheet, was a sight for sore eyes. He’s always been handsome while on duty, but post-sex gave him an extra boost.

Plus there’s pride from the red marks courtesy of you on his chest, grazing over it softly.

Jeno chuckled softly at your smooth fingers, lifting them up to kiss them tenderly before kissing your lips again. Only humans were capable of and to love, but you’re some kind of an exception. Regardless of the magic from the plate, you’d be able to love too if it weren’t for your background.

There’s so much love Jeno wanted to offer you, even if he hasn’t said it out loud yet.

Perhaps one reason was because time was beginning to tick. Finals were a few weeks away, then the one-month long semestral break until a new semester kicks off. Time really flew by, and his bank account and heart expanded too. Enjoying the now was all he could think of doing, but those uncertainties bothered him.

The biggest would be where you and he would stand when his job ended.

Jeno was too absorbed in his internal debate, as portrayed by his eyes staring off in space and running his hand in his hair repeatedly. Something was disturbing him, and you’re concerned as to what it was.

“Jeno,” Around his arm, you tapped his chest to get him out of it. “What’s going on in your head?”

Jeno approached every obstacle he faces straightforwardly, not wanting to let him hold back. Rarely did he keep secrets, especially from you. Instead of hiding away, he voiced it out.

“(Y/N), will we work out?��

“What do you mean, Jeno?”

You’re so occupied in the present that thinking of the future was never in your field. Like him, you’re just enjoying being in the moment. Though after tonight, it’s making you wonder if there’s a future.

“Well,” He placed his hand on top of yours, affectionately observing you. “Times flies faster when you’re having fun, and well, the semester is ending.”

His last words crushed a part of your heart, remembering his initial plan. None of you expected your friendship to bloom into what it is now, but life was just full of surprises without a schedule. At the same time, none of you wouldn’t have it any other way.

It may have been a few months since you two committed to each other, but the spark was still strong. It wasn’t like a summer romance kind of feeling. Time was not a determinant of love either, which you were certain of it with Jeno. A lot more than Junmyeon.

It should’ve frightened you when you realized your love for Jeno, but it didn’t. Even if you didn’t age physically, your mindset did. You’ve learned to forgive your younger self, and through Jeno, you let your guard down completely. From that, you let love in. Platonic to your fellow art pieces, and all of the above to Jeno.

Throughout your relationship, you regained all confidence in yourself and everything you set your mind to.

“I wouldn’t want to worry too much about it if I were you.” Your body flipped to lie on your stomach, resting your head on your palm.

“Why shouldn’t I, angel?”

Gazing back at him, you left a velvety kiss on his lips to rest his thoughts. His hand wrapped your neck, deepening it. But you pulled away with a giggle, all too knowing of his secret intentions as his cock began to harden again. His eyes narrowed down and his lower lip stuck out at your attempt of being a tease.

But enough about sex, you wanted to address a point.

Lee Jeno was going to be the biggest risk you wanted to take and fight for, and no one should try to stop you.

“I’ll ask Circe for a potion. For me, for you, for us.”

If it weren’t for insistent questioning towards every art piece, who kept their mouths shut, only Circe herself banished him from his suffering. Her series of potions varied, and the one you requested years ago which you threw out was capable of turning any art piece into a living human. No potion of Circe ever failed, so you entrusted your life for the day you do drink it.

“Are you sure, angel?”

Jeno knew about that one specifically, and as great to hear that you never threw it out, he never put pressure on you. He wanted you to do whatever felt right, even if deep down, he wished you’d use it. He was only worried about how the flow of the entire museum would be disrupted.

Typical Jeno always looking out for you, but you saw right through his concern. Here you were, caressing his check as reassurance. With an honest smile,

“I’ve never been more certain with anything in my life here until you came, Lee Jeno.”

Jeno opened up more to his life outside the museum, telling all sorts of experiences not just his days as a university student. From his childhood, his family, his travels, heck you even want to meet his friends at this point!

Newly, he shared with you how the sunrise and sunset looked like in Seoul with much vivacity. It’s a luxury as a human to witness as day breaks and ends, so you could imagine by yourself how it would look like. Sure, you had drawings and all, but that was from the real (Y/N) (Y/L/N).

This version of you wanted to live more; that’s your greed now.

“You’ve never touched snow too, right?” Jeno, who had his arm wrapped around you, silently watched the first batch of snow from inside.

“Yup, that’s the thing when you’re imprisoned in this place.” You sulked by his side, earning a chuckle from him who pulled you in closer.

“Don’t tell me now that you despise this place.”

“I don’t, but it hinders me to experience new things. The whole pattern of being awake at night by a plate gets tiring, Jeno.”

All Jeno would do when you’re frustrated was placing your head on his shoulder, listening as you talk.

“I know, angel. But it won’t be long until you leave this place with me, right?”

“You know it!” You interlocked your hands with him, eyes trained at every falling snowflake.

Sometimes, moments in silence with Jeno were all you needed for the night. Being within each other’s presence, focusing or admiring something from afar, it was all the peace you’ve needed from the bustling art pieces.

This week was the last of the semester, and Jeno’s off duty for tonight to focus on his exams. You’ll see him tomorrow night, which was his last shift ever, and also yours too.

Perhaps the biggest milestone you’re committing to without any regrets.

However, it took an unnecessary conversation you accidentally eavesdropped on to rock your decision.

You needed more ink after running out mid-way of sketching the sculptures as a secret parting gift. Before you could take a single step inside your exhibit room, a series of voices were full-on arguing. Booming back and forth, you peeped your ear out whilst hiding against the door.

“Athena, how dare you did to her?! She’s done so well from moving on from it, falling in love even! And now you’re telling me this?!” The distinct voice of Princess Diana, who spoke sweetly most of the time, boomed towards the Greek god. “You’re heartless.”

“I did what I had to do for the sake of this place, Diana!” Athena raised her voice, the lightning in her hands holding back from lashing out. She hated it when anyone argued with her, especially when she does things according to what she believed was necessary. Out of everyone, she had more leadership. “She had to know that her place is here as a wax figure, not outside. Talking Junmyeon out of it was for the best, plus it’s ideal when he drank the potion of memory loss from Circe.”

“But it tore her apart when he left her, and it’s going to tear her again if you do the same with Jeno.”

“How else are you going to approach the situation then, Diana? Those two have broken the highest golden rule, so they need to wake up.”

Right when she celebrated within herself for healing, hearing the unbearable revelation behind the past devastated you. This whole time, she internally blamed herself for being ageless and lashed out at others. The scary past barged back in, and you couldn’t handle it anymore.

Somewhere in the corner, you wept without a trace. You could care less about Athena’s opinions, but you found yourself agreeing to some of her words. You had a role to fulfill, and leaving that behind would be selfish and it could make the museum go topsy-turvy. As painful for Junmyeon to leave you, it was because the truth hurts. Nothing could change it, even if Circe could be your solution because it’ll leave a lot of questions. You didn’t want Jeno to be seen as a suspect.

Oh, Jeno.

There’s nothing wrong with falling in love either, you didn’t intend it to happen. But it becomes unfair when it compromises with your purpose, and that’s not how you are. You’ll always remember Jeno as your biggest risk, though it’s time to end things. Treacherous as it was to accept for you, risk-takers have boundaries too.

Fast forward, on the night of Jeno’s last shift, you’ve cherished every second with him. Playing around, chatting with other art pieces, kissing in private, you made it count. Before dawn broke, that’s where you chose to come clean by the garden, your sacred place. Not even your self-reassurance could prepare you to witness the hurt and confusion Jeno felt.

“You’re a mortal, and you still get to choose your path. Mine is already predetermined here as a wax copy of a historical figure.” You advised as you held both his hands, your voice shaking at the reality.

A few days ago, you were beaming with exhilaration at a new journey but now you’ve permanently backed out. Jeno couldn’t comprehend, and as much as he tried, he couldn’t. A life without you by his side would be empty and dull. “Even so, there are things about you that the original person didn’t have.”

Arguing with him wasn’t your favorite, and it’ll leave the two of you in a bad mood. But there is no way to negotiate this; you’ve already made up your mind. “We must end this, Jeno. You need someone who can grow old with you, and I can’t be that person for you.”

“But we can make it work!” His hands gripped on your slumped shoulders, whilst your face avoiding his to spare yourself from the heartache. “There’s still Circe.”

“I know, but recently, I found out that she’s an indirect cause of my misery.” Pulling away from his touch, you belted with frustration. “I cannot do this anymore, Jeno.”

You’ve always fought for whatever you wanted in life, and Jeno knew he was one of them if it weren’t for you telling him that. So he did the same, thinking of ways to make you feel whole. Now, he couldn’t tolerate the sudden crumbling of his heart from your outburst, and all he wanted to know was why you felt this way. How could he help you?

You don’t keep secrets from Jeno, but the truth behind your harsh actions cannot be revealed for the sake of the museum. Plus, you didn’t want him to despise this place he admired. Causing him pain wasn’t on your list, but keeping him safe was. It may be shown differently and he may not understand it now, but over time, he will.

“Jeno, you’ll find someone better out there. Someone with their whole life ahead of them, who’ll love you for everything that makes you who you are.” Repetitive punches in your guts urged you to barf at your half-lie, but you held it in.

“Why are you pushing me away? What happened to taking risks, (Y/N)?” Jeno interrogated, taking your hands in his hands again. They unconventionally quivered, like his lips. Jeno has never cried in front of anyone, not even when he was younger. Though for you, he just might. “Am I not worth it for you?”

Dear heavens, he was wrong. You internally screamed that, but you can’t let your selfishness seize the night. As Athena said, you had to wake up from your dream. “Committing to you was my biggest risk of them all, Jeno. Everything else that went along with it, I don’t regret it one bit. But time’s really up for us, and we must resume our normal duties.”

“I can’t lose you, (Y/N).”

“You never will, Jeno.”

He crouched lower to meet your height, his finger moving your head so you’d look at him back. Weakly enough, you did. “I want you to be a part of my normal life, angel.”

“I’ll always be here, you know. I’ll be standing in my usual spot upstairs, and you can drop by whenever you can.” You pressed your lips, lifting your head to avoid incoming tears. Meanwhile, he began shedding a few. You’ve hurt him big time, and you’ll never forgive yourself for this. “I still have one wish, right?”

Jeno’s sorrow was beyond his capacity, leaning his forehead against yours to kiss it. No matter what he could say or do, he already knew it won’t be effective. You’re affirmative in your choices, yet he still wanted to challenge it. All he wanted to know was why you’re doing this.

“Let me walk you one last time to your section.”

The black night sky had remnants of blue, motioning that dawn was approaching. Other figures gave their goodbyes to Jeno earlier, cleaning up their areas before they pose. Though none of them anticipated such a cold atmosphere between you two, they could only spy on what was bound to happen.

“My last wish is for you to let me go, Jeno.” You avowed, blinking your eyes with faux positivity. Your hands patted his blazer so it wouldn’t crease. “I already have a role to fulfill here, and you’re on the way to yours, future architect.”

“I love you, (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” Only tonight did he muster his courage to finally admit it to you after giving himself more time to analyze it. Timing was always crucial, and the badness of it showed.

Deep in your heart, you resonated the feeling. But it’ll make things more complicated, and it was the final thing you’ve wanted to occur. Someone had to be the strong one, and now, it should be you. With one more compassionate kiss on his lips, you stepped inside your section and readied your position.

“Goodbye, Lee Jeno.”

The sunshine brightened the room, and you’ve frozen to slumber again.

All Jeno could do was drop on his knees, sobbing over your rash actions. Unknown to him, a single tear left your eye as you posed.

Regardless of what status you were in, the pain of it all remained.

Jeno spent most of his semestral break with his friends to travel or whatnot, trying to forget it all. Even if he aced all his finals, his efforts felt like nothing if he never had you by his side to celebrate.

The sting over his short-lived romance with you never diminished the slightest, no one whom he could express his pain about it to especially when Renjun drank the memory wipe potion that Athena initially left for Jeno by his desk.

Forget it all, and live a peaceful life. You have so much potential, my mentee.

- Athena

Perhaps this was the same thing Junmyeon drank all those years ago, but unlike him, he didn’t have the guts to. He still wanted another chance.

So every day since the new semester began, he spent every afternoon break at your section. He’ll be seated by the bench, doing his assignments and talking about his day while sometimes stealing a glance of your figure. Some habits don’t change.

He never got sick of the same smile you exemplified, falling even more for you. He’ll often wonder what you’ve been up to.

What are your new sketches?

Are you taking care of Mochi well?

Have you apologized to Sanghoon yet?

Speaking of him, he surprisingly scooted over to Jeno’s side. This was the first time Jeno met the man, and politely enough greeted him. Sanghoon interviewed the boy, asking all sorts of questions that Jeno had every answer to. The biggest change that Sanghoon noticed since he left was your personality. You no longer bite, but treat everyone kindly without bias. You’re always active to help him out in cleaning the lobby, and you don’t go easily defensive.

Once he found out that Jeno was the reason for that, he was overjoyed at the start and wanted to meet him some way. You were a tough cookie, but now you relaxed. That was all that mattered to him, hoping to know more about him from you. That was until Diana stepped in and told him everything that happened. Mostly, the bad.

Playfulness eventually bore love. The last time you fell in love was in the 80s and Junmyeon pushed you away, he recalled. This time, you’re pushing Jeno away because you simply agreed with Athena’s points.

This wasn’t right, but it wasn’t his place to interfere.

But then again, he finally caught Jeno for the first time today and this time, he was open to hearing his side of the story. Lessen his misery too.

“No matter how stubborn she is, she loves you.” He advised him, bringing out one of your full sketchbooks. As Jeno opened it, the majority of the portraits were him. Sleeping, smiling, laughing, you drew him from every minor detail you could spot like the mole near his eye and his crescent eyes.

A handsome face I would never get sick until the end of time. Someone I want to wake up to every day in the morning if it weren’t for that plate.

- (Y/N)

Towards the end, a sketch of a house unfolded. The interior was a fusion of modernity and old royal design due to its white walls, wide space, and the placing of less furniture, plus an open backyard. There’s another tiny comment on the side from you.

I was right. Joining our varying designs together is pretty. Maybe Jeno and I could live in a house like this one day.

- (Y/N)

If you loved him so much, why did you let him go then when you had all these plans with him? Even if he tried to understand, he just didn’t.

“Don’t give up just yet when she told you to.”

“Are you just saying this or something?”

“Well, Princess Diana passed this message on but after everything, I believe that she’s right.” Sanghoon gave his opinion, but Jeno was reluctant to accept it.

“I never got a proper explanation why she suddenly changed her mind, Sanghoon.” He ranted, raking his hand through his hair from puzzlement. “Did I do something wrong?”

Sanghoon pitied him, having the upper hand and questioning himself whether to reveal the truth. However, since this boy took the job, he’s succumbed to secrecy. Without any transparency, it could drive someone mad. He’s too young for that, so Sanghoon breathed in defeat and placed his hand on Jeno’s shoulder.

“Promise me you won’t be mad when I tell you because I was when I found out; almost screamed even.”

Jeno nodded, listening to whatever Sanghoon had to say.

Of all people, he never would’ve expected Athena to do such a brash thing. Someone he respected and trusted, only to betray him by doing something she believed was good for all. Except it wasn’t, and it ended up hurting you all these years. The woman he loved, now he’s a clearer understanding of why you did what you did. Yet, it can’t fix his excruciation.

Heartbroken was an understatement; he had no one to rely on. With Sanghoon, he finally had a proper breakdown. The older man could only comfort his quietly, picturing him like one of his sons going through a hard time in school. But if it involves the heart, it’ll take more time to recover.

“You’re always the one adjusting, Jeno. But I think this time, you’re the one who needs space.”

A Year and a Half Later

“Jeno Lee!!!” Jaemin roughly wallowed his best friend in a hug when he arrived in their dorm room for the first time in a long time. “You dyed your hair blonde again!”

Renjun, who was behind the two of them, only rolled his eyes as he helped carry Jeno’s bags. “God damn it, Jaemin! You’re supposed to be helping me first!”

“I know, but give me a few seconds! I’m just happy our group is back together!”

Jeno laughed at his friends’ annoying yet silly dynamics, giddy to be back home. For a year, Jeno spent his 3rd year of university in Rome, Italy after one of his professors brought up to him about a scholarship program there for his course. At the time where he needed a change of scenery, he sent his application form and got interviewed.

Acing it, he had the opportunity to fly across the world to study and travel. His English skills surely improved, even picking up Italian words along the way due to a required class for it. He studied the history of different locations and how they were built.

He also went on field trips almost every day if it weren’t for the Italian students assigned to tour him around, academic and non-academic. Nights he spent on drinking wine on the rooftop of his dorm with them, screaming his complaints in the world with them.

It didn’t hit him that his stay was reaching its end until he submitted his final plate. His goodbye party didn’t even feel like one, but a see you later in the next few years after he becomes a licensed architect with money. His goal of it felt more realistic, motivating him to excel in his remaining years in university.

After unpacking half of his things, he was reminded of an email from one of the head professors, who requested another copy of his confidential documents from the Italian university he went to as soon as he’s back on campus.

He raced to the department with a folder of them and luckily encountered the said professor. Handing it to him, this professor questioned how he was and what experiences he gained from the trip. With excitement, Jeno spoke all sorts of tales from his adventures, highlighting how determined he was now to be an architect.

“That’s great to hear, Jeno!” He celebrated, checking on his watch, and widened his eyes. Frantic at his colliding schedules, he asked Jeno for a favor. It turned out that at the same time as his emergency meeting, he’s supposed to tour the new transferee student around campus.

“Only if you have time, Jeno! I could always ask another student, plus you just came back and need rest.”

“It’s not like I left for a decade, sir. No worries, I’ll do it.”

“Oh, bless your soul.” He put his hands together in prayer position, bowing back and forth with gratitude. “Wait, she’s right outside! Go ahead and introduce yourself.”

Jeno nodded, exiting right through the department doors. This girl had her back turned, inspecting her surroundings. She wore a black and white tweed blazer that matched with her skirt, black high heeled boots, and a black handbag. She must be a foreigner, Jeno thought.

“Excuse me, are you the transferee in the department of Architecture?”

Jeno didn’t brace himself for the surprise he’d face once this girl reacted to him calling her out. Her face was one he could never forget, no matter how many times he told himself to. The same face he convinced his heart to stop beating for, yet it lied.

This radiant face was none other than yours.

Jeno almost dropped his phone. He tried his best to hold on to your promise, but he failed. It was the main reason he studied abroad; to forget and focus on his career path. So the least thing he could’ve done was to study hard for his dream career.

Just a glimpse of you projected back every single memory you’ve had together. Beautiful yet heart-wrenching, he kept his emotions to himself.

You even wore the rose necklace he got you. Could it be?

“It’s been a while, Lee Jeno.” You took the metaphorical scissors to cut the tension, trying to contain the crushing feelings. The faculty center was a public place, yet it’s like the two of you were on the main stage.

“Do you remember me?” Astounded, you nodded. Every single detail.

Jeno could’ve ran away, but didn’t. He could’ve left you hanging, but didn’t. He can no longer count how many times you’ve appeared in his dreams, only to be disappointed when morning comes to not have you in his arms. He took one step closer, taking his time.

“How do you know me?”

“You’re the boy whom I helped with his assignment, argued with me over Romeo and Juliet,” You mimicked his move, making you one step nearer to him. “And most of all, the boy I once gave my entire heart to.”

Another step, leaving a few inches between the two of you. His heart palpitated without caffeine. What if he was napping in his dorm again? It was all surreal. “Is it really you, (Y/N)?”

Hearing your name from his lips lowered your guard, you pleased him with a hopeful grin. “I’d be dust by now if I didn’t drink Circe’s potion, right?”

That’s where Jeno unchained himself from his emotions. He engulfed in a warm hug, one that has no plans to let go when his chin planted on your shoulder. You returned the gesture, dropping all your worries away along with your bag and papers as your arms snaked through his neck.

You knew you had to part ways for a while after everything, though you were unsure how he’d feel about it. You recalled every time he visited you after his job ended up until his intense chat with Sanghoon, where he bawled his heart out. You couldn’t take it anymore after trying to stay strong, crying as soon as you woke up that night.

All your fellow figures could do was soothe you down like before to the best of their abilities, yet this time, it was unsuccessful. You’re filled with misery, realizing later how much of a big mistake you’ve made.

You’ve isolated yourself again for a while, but less rudeness and more silence. It was until Circe visited you. She doesn’t like getting involved with drama, though now was different. She, alongside Hera and Aphrodite, couldn’t withstand you tolerating the heartbreak again. So they went behind Athena’s back on this one time and created a potion together just for you. But with a compromise.

“This potion can turn you into a human. However, there’s only a 10% chance you’ll regain all your memories from this place.”

“So I’ll forget everyone and him?”

“Yes, unfortunately.” You’re about to shoo her away, not in the mood to do something drastic as that. But Circe grabbed your arm again. “I strongly believe that if you and he meant to be, then there will come a time these past memories will suddenly surge at you.”

“Must I need to forget to live properly?”

You’re stubborn, and Circe expected it. “You’ve broken so many golden rules, (Y/N), so it must be done. I’ve gone against Athena for this potion, and rarely have I done that. So rather than wallowing up in misery, you should focus on yourself. Do what makes you happy because this place is trapping you from every great thing out there.”

Those were the word that the actual (Y/N) (Y/L/N) lived by, nevertheless, you’re unique from her. You built a separate identity from her. “But Jeno-”

“At the right time, (Y/N). Pull yourself together and do all the things you’ve dreamt of before he came into the picture. I just know he loves you that much, and that he will wait for you.”

That same night, you gathered all your senses and drank it. The transition was fast as lightning speed, and behold, you were like a new person. You’re back in London, with a family that closely resembled your former one; only 3 older siblings, making you the youngest. You also had a new set of memories, from childhood until your adult years.

From (Y/N) (Y/L/N), you became (Y/N) Edwards.

It took one drunken night out with your university friends for the unlikely surge of old memories to speedily hit through your intoxicated state. Way beyond a dream, you’ve dropped your shot glass and broke down in the bathroom of your dorm room. You left something unaccomplished, and you had to do something before it’s too late.

Thus, you rushed to Seoul thanks to your parents’ support as they agreed that exploring outside your home country was a great experience. The only excuse you gave to your friends for the sudden transfer was you finding a new calling.

Sure, studying abroad was an exciting thing but you’re more determined to reunite with him. Even if this encounter was unforeseen, it was bound to happen one day. It so turned out that you had the same major in your former university and this new one.

Head to toe, you remembered everything.

“I’m so sorry I took so long.” You cradled your head on his chest, unaware of how your new life left Jeno so troubled.

“That doesn’t matter anymore.” Jeno tightened his grip, scared of releasing you again. Those two years felt like a breath of fresh air and a punch in the gut. “I tried to live up to your last wish, but I really can’t.”

“I want to take that wish back, Jeno. I wasn’t thinking right and only ended putting you through so much.”

“Oh, angel. I slowly understood why you did it.” Before he got too fragile, he softened his grip on you and showed his face again to you. He wanted a better look at his pretty girl, his fingers brushing strands of your hair behind your ear. Heart-fluttering, you bit your bottom lip. “What would you want to wish for instead?”

“Instead of you letting me go, I wish you could take me back and love me again. I can’t undo the past, but I’d still like to think I’ve tried my best.” That was the only wish you could ever think of. As huge as it was, it was something he may not accept. Yet you gave it a go, risking it all. “I don’t deserve you at all, Jeno.”

“Don’t say that, (Y/N).” One of his hands grabbed yours, putting it on his cheek. Cupping it, “I’ve never stopped loving you, you know.”

Oh, love. An all-too familiar emotion that either makes or breaks you. Of all the times you could’ve said those words, you held back, especially that wretched night you two broke it off. Although you showed it, being able to say it to someone felt more empowering.

This was finally the chance you’ve unconsciously waited for.

“I’m stupid for not saying this sooner.”

“What is it?”

With intimate eye contact, you drowned in the comfort of his brown orbs. You trusted him then, and you trusted him now. “I love you, Lee Jeno.”

Secretly, Jeno anticipated for the day you’d say those meaningful 3 words. Just like you, he showed more affection through actions than words. He only admitted when he lost you, and never would he do the same mistake again. If he felt that the love was strongly present, he will say it aloud.

“I love you still, (Y/N).” His arm around your waist tugged you in further. “I loved you as (Y/N) (Y/L/N) and I will continue to love you as (Y/N) Edwards.”

He peeked on your ID earlier, but regardless, he stood by his truth. You’re still the same (Y/N).

Finally, he closed the limited space between your lips. The memories of your past romance replayed in sync of every touching kiss, popping one leg up like in the movies. The Princess Diaries, specifically. Like in the museum from your unbearable parting, one warm tear freed itself down your cheek.

The sweetness of being reunited with you again beat the torturous wait of Jeno. Time really made your hearts grow fonder. As everyone said, if the love between two people is real, then it’ll find its way back to each other.

The world must be on your side too because no professor called you two out on your public display of affection. Jeno pecked your lips one time before stepping away, picking up the things you dropped.

“Now come on, I have to tour you around as instructed.”

You stomped on your feet, rolling your eyes from being left hanging. He’s still the same tease from before. “After that kiss though, I would’ve thought we could reschedule it.”

“No can do, Edwards.” Passing over your things, he wrapped one arm around you as he escorted you out of the building. The university was huge, with more buildings and green fields surrounded everywhere. “Left or right? There are a lot of places you missed out on all those years.”

“Point taken. Then you lead the way, my love.”

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tobiosmilktea · 3 years

Text

umpah umpah! smau

↪︎ bokuto x f!reader x iwaizumi

[021] — like a storm!

masterlist | prev. | next

a/n: swear my writing hasn’t been that good recently and i blame it on my lack of freetime 😔 anyway here’s 4.5k words of trashy word dump that i wrote in 2 hours ;)) also peep the tlc reference

in theory, this picnic blanket was much too small for the likes of fitting a webtoon author, an editor, and a beefy volleyball player all at once, and yet, it still managed to fit two more to come join—tightly bunched up in the park at night as the crisp air temperature slowly drops. having a picnic at the cusp of autumn and winter was a definite mistake, but then again, perhaps they were used to it by now.

it wasn’t like the cold was bothering bokuto at this point anyway as his blood simmered with a boiling hot ichor. he had a death grip on his phone as satomi left him on read. all the volleyball player could do was roll his eyes and scoff as he taps your shoulder. akaashi, who sat on the other side of you was in the midst of speaking to you, yet was interrupted by the bright white light from the screen shone across your faces.

your eyes scanned the texts, feeling your lungs desperately yearning for air. her words suffocated you, crushing your airways as you struggled to breathe. perhaps you have forgotten how to at that very moment. they say it takes about three minutes for someone to suffocate from the lack of oxygen and if akaashi didn’t shake you, that probably would have been you. the fact that seeing that damn photo made your heart shatter more times than you could count over a course of the past few days. you couldn’t catch a fucking break, could you?

you had to look away. if you had stared at satomi in iwaizumi’s bed any longer, you would’ve screamed your head off.

“god, these cookies are so fucking good. i would literally marry these if i could,” kaori moaned into another bite of a matcha shortbread cookie. she practically threw herself over yuko’s lap as she reached in her little baggie for more. “these cookies are a godsend, (y/n), where did you get them?”

“this bakery right next to onigiri miya, apparently they make good lemon macarons as well.” you mutter. the semblance of seeing those texts was still evident upon your expression.

yuko doesn’t fail to notice the way the timbre of your voice had changed within a sudden moment. she gives you a look, “what’s wrong?” her words, careful and genuine filled you with something somber as bokuto handed his phone to her.

kaori grunts slightly as she lifts herself off of yuko, yet her body was still leaned over to skim the texts along with her.

it was a nervous habit of yours to fiddle with your fingers, picking and scratching at your chipped nail polish until it was all gone. you don’t remember when this became a habit, but you always did this whilst you waited for something you dreaded to hear the answer to. as if the nerves within you pooled into a wave, crashing back and forth like a tide until you either get dragged along with it or somehow manage to survive.

their expressions contorted into a nasty mixture of disgust and absolute horror. even kaori who has seen the despicable sweet-tongued manipulations of nicotine-stained fingers of incels had to shake her head and push the phone away.

“i never liked that girl from the start,” yuko scoffs. she hands the phone back to bokuto, watching him switch it off and dropping it onto the cushioned picnic blanket in annoyance.

“god, the amount of anger coursing through my body right now...” muttered bokuto, “i can’t believe she would do this.”

“at least she didn’t do anything to iwaizumi,” akaashi tried to reason. things were already so messed up, it was the least he could do.

kaori shakes her head, clearing her throat from the dryness of the shortbread cookie. “doesn’t matter,” her words were venomous and cutthroat, “she’s still a terrible person considering she got him drunk and made him tell her shit that wasn’t any of her business. what a fucking snake.”

you pursed your lips slightly, wanting to close your eyes and make this all disappear the moment you wake up. the chill of the night air had finally struck you. it was that sudden urge to run away as fast as possible, to escape the words you wholeheartedly wanted to leave behind continued to follow you like haunting poltergeists. and as if the tingling phrases of whispered memoirs of your mistakes weren’t enough, your own decisions whether it was right or wrong lingered back to both iwaizumi and bokuto. it’s heavy baggage you so dearly wanted to get rid of, but the solutions seemed so skewed and out of place for you to comprehend properly that even the chill in the air started to burn.

bokuto glanced at you with worry coated the emotions in his eyes. his hand reached for yours, lacing his fingers through your own as his palm—though rough and calloused—was warm against the biting cold of your hand. it comforted you more than you had expected with the way it was hidden from the others, almost melting when bokuto started to rub his thumb in little circles on the back of your hand and over your knuckles.

your hands were so soft, he had forgotten how much he liked holding them. he could memorize each and every detail just by admiring the way your hand looked so tiny next to his, yet they fit together like a glove.

you swore your heart was ready to jump out of your throat then. you weren’t sure if bokuto could even feel the way you squeezed his hand slightly as a silent answer.

“we should do something about it,” you say after a few beats of silence had passed, but it only comes out in a hushed mutter.

bokuto squeezed back, “like what?”

“i don’t really know,” you shrug while you shook your head, “just something that’ll make her learn a lesson or two.”

kaori gasps, “we should sue her!”

you and the others gave her a look.

“like seriously, sexual assault allegations are terrible especially since she’s a famous sports team’s physical therapist!”

“there probably isn’t enough evidence for that to work, kaori, considering they only made out.” yuko says matter-of-factly, “besides, suing someone is expensive and we don’t have that kind of budget right now.”

kaori braids over arms over each other in disappointment, “that’s lame.”

“yuko’s right.” you sighed, “i don’t want things to get out of hand and end up going public either. iwaizumi is already mad at the fact that i used him for a webtoon and surely being part of a lawsuit would only make it worse.”

it had come to a point that you had noticed how far everything has come. you wanted to laugh at how fast everything went downhill within a matter of months. the skeleton of your mistakes was just waiting for its last bits to fall and crush you.

there had to be a way to just make this—whatever this entire thing is to just end already.

akaashi opened his mouth to speak after keeping his thoughts to himself this entire time, “what if we just... get her fired?” he finished the last of his words in a blazing hesitance as if we would absolutely hate the idea. granted, it wasn’t much to work off of just by a simple proposal, but it had potential.

“we could, but how exactly are we going to do that?” bokuto asks curiously.

“didn’t you say that tomas recently got injured?” akaashi starts, earning a nod from bokuto to have him continue, “well if we want to be discrete as possible we could do it the old-fashioned way.”

yuko furrowed her brows as she asked, “which is?”

“if she keeps missing work or arriving late, she could potentially lose her job.”

kaori bursts out laughing, heaving a heavy snort as she mused at akaashi, “seriously? is that really our best option?”

akaashi rolled his eyes as she teases, “since you wanted to go the legal route, technically, it is.”

the girl’s laughter came to a slow cease, cocking her head in interest as she waited for one of them to elaborate.

“no yeah, there’s still a chance for this to actually work.” bokuto starts without a second thought. hell, he even forgot he was still holding your hand. “professional sports teams require their medical team to be at every game whether it’s real or just practice since the players are always at risk of getting injured. satomi’s known to be good at being there every day on time, so if yoji and their boss sees that she’s consistently missing work now for... let’s say—iwaizumi—and tomas isn’t getting treated asap, they’re allowed to replace her. and if you’re replaced, there’s basically no going back even if it is just temporary. and if that happens...” he pauses as he holds back a smirk, “she’s going to be fined legally with negligence—worst-case scenario, she’ll probably be fined for nonfeasance too.”

“whoa there, those are some big words, sir.” says kaori, “someone catch me up here?”

akaashi lets out a sigh, “nonfeasance means failure to do what’s expected.”

the sound of awe left kaori as she nods in understanding.

“is this really necessary? it seems like a lot of work just to get back at her.” yuko has always been a rational person, just like akaashi, but the only difference between them was that she liked to do things the fastest and most easy way.

“if we play our cards right, i think we could do it.” says bokuto.

“then i think we need all the help we can get if we really want this to work out.” akaashi said, craning his neck towards you to ask, “should i tell semi and suga about it?”

it’s not even a question for you to answer considering how obvious the answer was. of course, you had to tell them. they basically knew everything already, and if anything they’re the only ones who could make this plan actually work.

“i can also tell my team about it to help.” bokuto adds in, but you cut him a look, “only atsumu, sakusa, hinata, and tomas of course. i promise i’ll only tell them what they need to know. what do you think?”

“as long as satomi gets what she deserves.”

you hated the way your thoughts were an endless motion of suffering. it had been keeping you awake all night as you tossed and turned. you couldn’t rest now as if a giant cinder block of forbidden serendipities would clash-boom-bang back onto you as it was being held by a teetering string of floss. it was bound to snap at any second. you yearned for even just a few minutes of rest as maybe these suffocating feelings would disappear once you woke up in the early morning.

it was still dark out—three a.m... maybe, but all you knew was that it was late and your flurrying thoughts were giving you so much residual energy that you needed to extrude. it wasn’t a form of adrenaline or a sugar rush, no, it was something else. your body was well beyond fatigued, but rather your mind was running like a brain on drugs.

there were so many things rushing through your head that it morphed into a jungle of tangled vines of plenty. it was a storming blizzard that couldn’t be calmed down as you finally pushed yourself off your bed, forcing your sheets off of you and sitting on the side of the matress. guilt was eating you alive, gnawing at your hollow chest as your semblance withered while the minutes passed. you just wanted for everything to just stop. please just stop.

maybe this is why you never told any of them. the stress, the consequences— you knew damn well that shit would hit the fan if you did, and yet it’s inevitable. the truth would have come out sooner or later.

ugh, why are you like this? you thought to yourself, dragging your fingers through your hair as you sighed out.

the answers were obvious, but it was the tingling of your lips that sent waves of heat to your cheeks as you recalled the kiss... the kiss! holy shit, the kiss. it hit you then when it played back in your head from a few hours ago when bokuto dropped you off at your door. something melted in bokuto’s eyes the moment you looked back at him, heat emanating from every inch of his skin as you tracked the tension in his body. he leaned over with his face just a few centimeters shy from yours and you swore he could probably hear your heart punching against your ribcage. bokuto could feel the warmth of your breath fanning against his chin and for a moment the world and all the problems in it seemed to disappear for a brief moment. before you knew it he kissed you gently as if it was his last. it certainly would be for a while, anyway.

“dammit,” you cursed in a harsh whisper, leaning over to switch on your bedside lamp in a swift flick.

you slapped your cheeks to force the thought out of your head as you made your way to your desk. you turned your desk lamp on with it’s bright yellow hue flickering slightly over your messy work area. it was scattered with paperwork and miscellaneous notes that it was surely beyond your mood to even fix-up.

usually, you tend to be pretty clean and organized with your desk space, and yet with recent events, you’ve been letting the work pile up instead. you’ve always liked the saying, this is something future (y/n) can deal with, but for once you hated yourself for it. besides, look where it got you.

a sigh escaped your lips when you plopped yourself upon your chair. your delicate fingers traced along the edges of the neatly bonded sheets of love cemetery’s storyboard. you started it earlier today with the help of the rest of the ddd team after the director of the project gave you the freedom to do so as usually, he would be in charge of making the storyboard and such. despite being rather chaotic on a daily basis, you were glad to be surrounded by people who always put a smile on your face while still getting work done. those were the best types of people to work with—friends that cared about you.

you guys managed to get the first fifteen pages done and you needed twenty completed panels in less than twenty-four hours. you were used to this type of pressure, especially while you were working on your webtoon. you were surprised how many times you sprained your hand from constantly working that the aching pain between your joints and your wrists were second nature at this point. surely, you would have carpal tunnel by now if akaashi wasn’t there to always nag you to take breaks.

with a few wrist stretches and cracks of your knuckles, you flipped to the next scene—the day you and bokuto met. your heart tugged slightly as you envisioned the scene you drew in your webtoon, slowly converting it into a movie scene in your head.

oh, how things have changed.

your hand ached for mercy by the time seven a.m. struck. the sun had already peeked through the horizon, sending rays of sunlight through the blinds of your bedroom window as a greeting for the new morning. you had been sketching out the storyboard for five nonstop hours (give or take a few minutes in between trying not to let the different events in the story get to you).

you’ve always had a strange habit of ignoring the pain in your wrist, but now it was certainly unbearable. the lead pencil that was hot to the touch from the heat from your hand dropped onto your desk in a clatter. your eyes flicked down to your palm as you could feel the fatigue darkening your eyebags. your hands were practically alabaster from the constant pressure that it took a good moment for the circulation to run back into your hand.

you left your bedroom and made your way to your kitchenette. it was like your body was moving on its own, grabbing a mug, turning on your kettle, and tossing teaspoons of sugar in your cup for your morning tea as if you were on autopilot.

silence had surrounded you for far too long, you needed some form of sound to keep you sane from staying up all night and leaving you alone with your thoughts to just take over. sounds from the television hummed through the quaint air of your apartment in the lowest possible volume, just beneath the whistling of the tea kettle atop your stove.

you poured out the boiling hot water as your eyes followed the way the tea steeped through the liquid like a spreading storm.

the doorbell rang then, causing your head to swirl towards your door with slight confusion filling your expression. who would even come by so early in the morning?

the floorboards of your apartment creaked at your light steps as you trod towards the door, almost flinching at the cold surface of the handle as you unlocked it. you pulled the door open. there was that infamous morning chill in the autumn air that bit at your bare arms and legs. the heat from your apartment escaped at the motion as your breath hitched within your throat.

he looked out of breath and filled with fearful tension as his broad shoulders relaxed a bit at your sight. his usual soft brown locks that are always styled was tangled and woven into each other like a basket weave. hell, he looked as if he rushed immediately here the moment he woke up, all disheveled and almost desperate. poor guy didn’t even think to put on a coat before coming.

what the hell is he doing here?

“iwa—?” you attempted to say out loud in a harsh whisper that could barely leave your body in the first place. and yet, your voice disappeared into his chest as he pulls you into him, warmth engulfing you like burning ember.

you swallowed the lump forming in your throat as you froze. call it shock or just plain confusion but you couldn’t bring yourself to move your arms from the way iwaizumi’s embrace trapped them to your sides. just the plain sensation of the heat rising from his skin was enough to simmer down your awe as you finally managed to wrap your arms around him.

“i’m sorry,” he mutters into your shoulder.

you captured your bottom lip between your teeth. “i’m sorry too,” you say in the same matter, yet your voice almost sounded hoarse from the dryness in your throat. “i should’ve told you the truth.”

“and i shouldn’t have said those things that i said to you...”

a response would usually follow right after, but you couldn’t piece together the correct words and all of the nuanced phrases in your head to say into the air. your thoughts were too far cluttered and chaotic to even say anything more other than, “it’s okay.”

iwaizumi could only pull you in closer, hold you tighter, and leave his arms around you as if he feared that you would disappear out of his reach if he were to let go even in the slightest. he made the mistake of letting you go that one night many years ago and he has learned his lesson since them. he’s not going to take any more chances.

you two have been in each other’s arms for a while now, but you couldn’t find the strength in you to let go. you haven’t felt iwaizumi’s hugs in so long that perhaps you wanted to savor it a bit longer as well. like a little treat—a reward of a few minutes of peace after a thunderstorm of misunderstanding where all that’s left is the aroma of lingering petrichor of bittersweet nothings. you would like to call this a small victory, but something was off.

“iwa,” you say once you finally pulled yourself into your senses, “what’s wrong?”

“i did something bad, (y/n). i fucked up.”

you pull away from him slightly, just enough to be able to look at him in the eye but still be in the comfort of his arms. “what happened?”

“i was so fucking stupid, i shouldn’t have agreed to go with satomi.” oh, you thought as the words left his mouth. you pursed your lips together, forcing yourself to lock your gaze onto him as he spoke. “i ended up getting drunk and telling her everything that happened by accident.”

it’s okay, i already know. i already know, i already know. the words rang inside your head as you fought to say the words, but nothing was coming out. you did nothing wrong, it’s okay, it’s okay. there was so much hurt and betrayal lacing iwaizumi’s copper eyes that you feared anything you say (regardless if it was in his favor) would obliterate everything that just happened into dust. seriously, how bad would it sound telling a person that you were already aware of what they did? iwaizumi already had so many trust issues that you were treading on thin ice right now.

it really all came down to the question: do what’s right or do what’s easy?

right or easy, right or easy?

for years you have been choosing the easy route to undermine your problems. you always thought to yourself, if you had ignored the problem long enough, eventually it’ll all go away. it might have worked for the tiniest of things, but you should’ve known it would never work when you were fucking up other people’s lives from your own selfishness.

you didn’t want to be selfish anymore.

“we ended up sleeping together.”

you scrunched your brows in confusion, “what?”

did satomi lie then? did they actually sleep together?

“i-i don’t even remember how it all happened!” iwaizumi exclaimed in such urgency. he certainly didn’t want to make the gap between you two any bigger, “all i remember was that we kissed but before i knew it, i woke up to her in my bed but she was fully clothed.”

you sigh with a huff, trying to piece together the disarrayed parts together as you recalled bokuto’s words from last night, satomi doesn’t lie when it comes to sleeping around. the sentence wandering your thoughts as the boy before you continue to ramble. so maybe satomi didn’t lie after all, “listen, iwa—”

“you gotta believe me, (y/n), i didn’t mean to do it. when i said that i still love you the last time we texted i meant it—”

“haji, i said listen!” you huffed as you grabbed his arm. the sudden name change was enough to shut him up and possibly cause a surging red tint to his ears. you found it adorable, but you had to cut him some slack since you hadn’t called him that since high school. “last night i was with akaashi and bokuto.”

iwaizumi was already making a face before you could even start. “why were you with them?”

“just hear me out okay?” you pleaded.

he saw the aggression in your eyes and immediately shut up, nodding for you to continue.

“while i was with them, satomi texted us about everything that happened. she said that you guys only made out and didn’t do anything beyond that.” you explain, watching the slight relief softening his expression, “she ended up just sleeping over instead that’s why she was in your bed.”

you didn’t expect him to say anything when you finished your thought. it was a lot to sudden comprehend as you two just stood there waiting, swallowed up in your own thoughts.

“don’t blame yourself, okay?” you attempted to break the silence, “what satomi did was wrong.”

iwaizumi’s wandering gaze flickered back to you, fist curling up into a tight ball until his knuckles turned marble white. but as quickly as he felt the aching of his nail digging into his palm did he let go and let his shoulders drop. he sighs while he ran his hand through his tangled hair. he didn’t know what to say and the silence was punishing.

you parted your lips slightly as the words tickled your tongue. “this, um, might be too much to ask and you don’t have to say yes, but we need your help with something.”

“who’s we?”

“bokuto, akaashi, kaori, and the rest of my team.” you answer truthfully, “we’re trying to get satomi to face the consequences.”

iwaizumi nods, not hesitating for a second. “alright, i’ll do it.”

well that was easier than you thought.

you held back an amused laugh, hiding your smile behind your hand as you pull away from him. you made your way back to your kitchen as you had forgotten about your cup of tea from earlier.

“but...” iwaizumi trailed behind you as you sipped from your mug. “i was the one who made a move on her first.”

“oh,” you say. you definitely didn’t know about that small detail that sent ivy-like jealousy through your veins, “i mean... you were drunk so it makes sense.” you tried to justify without making your envy too obvious.

you turned away from him, fearing that he could see right through you.

“i kissed her thinking it was you,” he states.

your eyes widen then, slapping your cheeks that heated by the second. there was a grip around your swiftly beating heart, aching within your ribcage as you attempted to calm the roaring serendipities that threatened to bloom prematurely.

a composed sigh leaves you as you pull yourself together, turning back around to face iwaizumi with a meek smile. “cool,” you mused awkwardly as your brain search rapidly for a way to change the subject. iwaizumi moved closer to you, sending you into a mild panic, “have you had breakfast yet?” you asked out of the blue.

but before you could even fathom what he was doing, he cups your face between his hands and pulls you in.

your heart flutters and stops when iwaizumi pressed his lips against yours, soft and delicate as if you were the most fragile thing within his grasp. and you were. his touch against your jaw was light as it trailed down your neck. he could feel the raging ichor that soared through your veins like a wildfire while your hand that was splayed against his broad chest could feel the thumping of his heart against your own palm.

you pull away from him as he says, “no, i haven’t.” but it wasn’t to let him answer, rather, it was the thought that iwaizumi came second place again.

fun facts! —

yes. y/n did kiss both bokuto and iwaizumi within a span of a couple hours 💀 queen shit fr

after iwaizumi left, y/n immediately facetimed kaori and akaashi and told them what happened

it was definitely awkward between bokuto and iwaizumi when they saw each other, but it was harder to avoid satomi

(also by saying “iwaizumi came second place” means who was able to kiss y/n first not who won her feelings over)

taglist: (closed!)

@moonlightaangel @elianetsantana @k4tiepie @memorableminds @wheeshllumi @suhkusa @kitsunetea @airybby @noeminemi @truly-a-snitch @keichan @cosmicmermaid25 @bap-kingdom @saturnfarie @kwdflash @ennos-baby @dinablossom @chrisrue15 @seikamuzu @nestlevanilla @chasekudo @yammmers @pixcldust @iwaizluv @h0ngh0ngh0ng @emogril @tiredandkindaoverworked @tsumue @underratedmage @bokutosuwus @kellesvt @unstableye @oh-tapeworm @scrappyfka @alittlebitofrain @mxngy @tpwkatsumu @atsumuwoah @macchiatoast @dicerawr @kageyamasbabygorl @some-random-stranger-007 @vhskenma @wntrmn @little-plants @stargirlara @kissungjae @je11yfishwriter @sbaepsae @apollochjld

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smau #bokuto koutarou #bokuto x reader #bokuto scenarios #bokuto imagines #bokuto smau #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi scenarios #iwaizumi imagines #iwaizumi smau

485 notes · View notes

zedecksiew · 3 years

Text

Kriegsmesser

When I received Kriegsmesser in the mail I finally googled "kriegsmesser", and found out it meant "war knife". Which makes sense; Gregor Vuga's ZineQuest 2021 project is a tribute to "roleplaying games named after medieval weapons".

I love Warhammer Fantasy Roleplay's piss-renaissance Old World setting. I tend to pick up WFRP-a-likes sight unseen:

Warlock (quality);

Small But Vicious Dog (yesss);

Zweihander (which I have come to hate); etc.

Anyway: I backed Kriegsmesser without really knowing anything about it. So Kriegsmesser surprised me.

Kriegsmesser grew out of a Troika! cutting. Its 36 backgrounds are compatible with that system: each come with a couple of lines of description; a list of skills and possessions; an a visual cameo cropped from actual 16th-Century woodcut art.

Cohesive and competently flavourful. My favourite is the Labourer, who always starts with "an empty pine box":

"You've spent your life breaking your back, working hard for other people's profit. You have nothing to show for it but a spectre of the future."

(The obligatory ratcatcher-analogue , called the Vermin Snatcher, is here -- check that box!)

Kriegsmesser also comes with its own ruleset. Hits all the notes it needs to, with lots of orientation and advice for how to run a game -- but ultimately super-simple, mechanically:

Roll d6s equal to the value in a relevant skill, look at the highest result. 6 means you get what you want; 5 or 4 means you get what you want, at a cost.

It's not quite a dice pool, since only the highest result matters. No opposed tests.

Kriegsmesser intends to have this base mechanic handle fights, too. The combat rules - with armour, toughness and weapon values -- are nested in an optional section.

For a WFRP-a-like, this feels like a purposeful departure.

Many of WFRP's most celebrated adventures are celebrated for bits that their underlying ruleset does little to support: the investigative structure of "Shadows Over Bogenhafen"; the complicated timetable of "Rough Night At Three Feathers".

Ludwig von Wittgenstein never needed a statblock to be memorable.

Not to say that lethal, hyper-detailed fights isn't super Warhammer-y. (Kriegsmesser includes an injury table, broken down by body-part -- check that box!)

But here it feels like Gregor is saying: "I'm not Games Workshop and Roleplay isn't an ancillary of Warhammer Fantasy Battle; we can evoke grim-and-perilous-ness even if we fork away from heavy combat rules."

It has become ritual for me to read my partner Sharon to sleep.

Sometimes I read her RPG things. The other night, after I read her Kriegsmesser's introduction --

" The Empire wages an eternal war against Chaos. Its priests preach of Chaos as an intrusion, something unnatural ... These men see Chaos in anything that does not buttress their rule. They call it disorder, anarchy, corruption. They say that to rebel against their order is to rebel against god and nature. That the current arrangement is natural, rather than artificial.

" Meanwhile, the common people look to the Empire to deliver the justice that they were promised and they find none. They look to the Empire and do not see themselves reflected in it. They look around at what they were taught was right and good and see only misery.

" Their world begins to unravel. Chaos comes to reside in every heart and mind sound enough to look at the world and conclude it is broken. "

-- Sharon remarked: "Nice one."

The RPG things I read her generally leave Sharon lukewarm. She has enjoyed a couple -- but, yeah: for many of these books, text isn't their strong point.

Kriegsmesser is the only time I can recall Sharon praising the writing of an RPG book without my prompting.

Nice one.

That introduction surprised me. It underlines Kriegsmesser's biggest departure from its WFRP-a-like pedigree: how it characterises Chaos.

Corruption, a mainstay of most grim-dark-y games, is made an optional rule, like combat. Explaining this, Gregor writes:

" Kriegsmesser partially subverts or deconstructs the traditional conceit of Warhammer where the characters are threatened by the forces of Chaos. In this game it is the player characters who are the agents of 'Chaos': they are likely to become the 'rats' under the streets, and the wild 'beast-men' in the woods bringing civilisation down. It's the Empire and its nobles and priests that are corrupt ... "

Describing the Empire, Gregor writes:

" The Empire encompasses the world yet is terrified of the without. It enforces itself with steel and fire yet considers itself benevolent. It consumes the labour of others with bottomless hunger yet calls its subalterns lazy, or wasteful, or greedy. "

Holy shit this is the first time I've seen the word "subaltern" in an RPG thing, I think?

I love this.

Rant incoming:

With every passing decade Warhammer abridges its Moorcockian roots more and more; nowadays it is "Order = Good" and "Chaos = Evulz", pretty much.

Gone are the days when chaos berserkers are implied to grant safe passage to the helpless (because Khorne is as much a god of martial honour as he is a god of bloodletting); Or that the succor of Papa Nurgle is a genuine comfort to the downtrodden; Or that Tzeentch could unironically embody the principle of hope, of change for the better.

As Chaos is distilled into unequivocal villainy, Order goons get painted as Good Guys by default --

Giving rise to Warhammer's contemporary problem, wherein fans are no longer able to recognise satire.

When I was introduced to 40K, it seemed pretty clear that the Imperium was a Brazil-esque absurdist-fascist bureaucratic state: planets are exterminatus-ed due to clerical error; the way it stamps out rebellions is the reason why rebellions begin in the first place.

Tragi-comic grimdarkness. That was the point.

Nowadays that tone has shifted -- and you're more likely than not going to encounter a 40K fan who argues that the Imperium's evils are a justified necessity, to prevent worse wrongs.

We went from:

"Space Nazis because insane dumbass fuckery, also chainswords vroom vroom rule of badass!"

To:

"Space Nazis because it makes sense actually, and also chainswords make sense because [insert convoluted rationalisation here]."

Even Fantasy Flight's Black Crusade line, which ostensibly offers a look at 40K from the perspective of Chaos, never truly commits to its conceit.

With prep you could play a heroic band of mutant freedom fighters, resisting the tyranny of the Evil Imperium --

But I don't remember Black Crusade giving that kind of campaign any actual support. Its supplements service the relatively more conventional "You can play villains!" angle; the Screaming Vortex is a squarely Daemons-vs-Daemons setting.

This tonal drift culminates, in my mind, with Age of Sigmar, Games Workshop's heroic-fantasy replacement of the old WFRP / WHFB setting.

Here's the framing narrative for AoS's recently-launched Third Edition. Let's see whether I've got things right:

A highly professionalised, technologically-superior tip-of-the-spear fighting force (the Stormcast Eternals);

Backed by an imperialist military-industrial complex (Azyrheim);

"Liberating" rich new territories (Ghur) for exploitation by a civilised settler culture (Settlers of Sig-- I mean, Free Cities);

Justified because the locals are irredeemable heathens (Chaos and Kruleboyz).

I mean, that's a sweet-ass Warhammer setting. It's contemporary, laser-guided lampoon. Except it is played totally straight.

In AoS, a literal crusade is justified as the moral good.

I think Kriegsmesser surprised me because its framing of Chaos -- as a promise, as the light of hope shining through cracks of a broken world --

It feels so fucking right.

Yes: its a subaltern deconstruction of the conventional moral universe of Warhammer -- but it is a take that is also already implied / all but supported in the various depictions of the setting: from WFRP to the modified title-crawl of Black Crusade.

I'm annoyed I didn't think of it, myself. Damn you, Gregor!

And I'm annoyed that more Warhammer fans aren't thinking it, also.

lmagine if Kriegsmesser's perspective stood on equal standing as the GW orthodoxy. Imagine if, instead of simplifying stuff into "Order = Good" and "Chaos = Evulz", GW did a Gregor Vuga.

You'd have a Rashomon-ed Warhammer, where villainy depends on perspective:

You are fearful villagers, huddled around your priest, muttering prayers against the wild braying coming from the trees beyond your gates.

You are Aqshyian tribeswomen, defying the thunder warrior towering over you, the foreigner demanding you bow to his foreign god.

You are a Tzeentchian revolutionary cell, desperately trying to disrupt a Inquisitor's transmissions so your home planet isn't destroyed by fascist orbital fire.

Get Kriegsmesser HERE.

+++

( Image sources: https://theenemywithinremixed.wordpress.com/2021/05/21/thoughts-on-the-4e-death-on-the-reik/ https://www.criterion.com/current/posts/59-brazil https://www.deviantart.com/faroldjo/art/Warhammer-40k-Black-Crusade-273596035 https://www.warhammer-community.com/2021/06/09/fancy-a-new-life-bringing-order-to-the-mortal-realms-join-a-dawnbringer-crusade-today/ https://www.nme.com/blogs/the-movies-blog/team-america-15-anniversary-south-park-2558750 https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Palestinian_children_and_Israeli_wall.jpg )

#reviews #kriegsmesser #gregor vuga #warhammer #writing #rants #overthinking #rpgs #wfrp

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purple-fireflies · 3 years

Text

try to slip past his defense (without granting innocence)

A/N: Soy Luna Grey’s Anatomy au -- some plot devices will be the same, others may differ. (This is just an excerpt, I'll post the full chapter on ao3 & tumblr when I'm done with it!)

Other notes:

The title is from The Fray’s “How To Save A Life” which is basically the show’s anthem song (that and chasing cars)

Sometimes, certain dialogue may be verbatim from the show (this is only for medical-related plot devices, ie meeting patients, assigning lab reports, establishing exposition, etc) so I’m stating here right now that that specific dialogue belongs to Grey’s Anatomy, and the characters belong to Soy Luna, but everything else belongs to me

Juliana never had the last name given in the show, so for story’s sake, it’s Bahiense.

She’s referred to as “The Nazi” but that’s not meant to offend anyone at all, it was the nickname given in the show, so I’m transferring it here.

In Soy Luna, Ámbar is one year older than Luna, but here she’s the same age as her

In Grey’s Anatomy, there are only 5 people in each group of interns, but for plot’s sake, there are 7 each

In the show, Benicio’s name was never mentioned, so for writing purposes, his last name is going to be Calisto

Luna sits up quickly—bad idea.

She winces at the light coming in through the window and groans at her headache.

And someone stirs next to her.

Exactly how much did she drink?

Enough so she doesn’t remember the name of the smirky boy staring at her, pulling on his boxers.

She is never drinking again.

And he needs to leave.

“You are?” He asks, grinning the grin that probably got Luna into this mess.

“Humiliated on so many levels,” She mutters, “And I’m late, as well. So if you could just, I dunno, leave, that would be perfect,”

“Or we could pick up where we left off?” He asks, with a grin that tells Luna he isn’t used to being rejected.

“No, seriously. I’m late. Which I shouldn’t be on my first day of work, so?”

Take the hint.

“Wait, so you live here?”

Jesus Christ, she’s going to be late.

“Huh? Oh yeah, it was my aunt’s house, but I’m selling it so technically, not for long.” She rushes out.

“I’m sorry,” He replies, actual emotion in his eyes.

“My aunt is still ali—you know, we don’t have to do the thing,”

“We can do whatever you want,”

Really?

“No, the thing. Where you pretend you care or ask me nice questions or whatever. Listen. I’m going to go upstairs and shower, and when I get back, you’re not going to be here, uh…”

What was his name?

He laughs softly, “Matteo.”

“Luna,” She replies, shaking his hand.

“Bye, Luna,” He says winking at her.

She smiles in response and jerks her head towards the door.

“Bye, Matteo,”

And that’s the last she has to see of him.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

“Each of you comes here hopeful. Wanting in on the game. A month ago you were in med school being taught by doctors. Today, you are the doctors. The seven years you spend here as a surgical resident will be the best and worst of your life. You will be pushed to the breaking point. Look around you. Say hello to your competition. Eight of you will switch to an easier specialty. Five of you will crack under the pressure. Two of you will be asked to leave. This is your starting line. This is your arena. How well you play? That's up to you,” The chief, Tamara Rios, says as Luna stumbles into the room, causing everyone to stare at her.

Great job, Valente.

Luna walks around the room. She sees Ámbar, avoiding her gaze as if it was poisonous. She sees another girl, a brunette, looking around the room with wide eyes. She sees Simón, looking back at her, and resists waving at him as a kindergartner would. She walks around the OR a little more and sees two girls so close they might as well be stuck together, one a blonde and the other a redhead. She bumps into another boy, who just huffs softly and brushes her off.

Rude.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

The resident takes 3 more interns, leaving Luna with the brunette she saw at the orientation.

“Only 6 women out of 20,” She says, sighing, as if mad at the statistic itself.

“And I think one of them’s a model. As if that would’ve helped with the whole respect thing,” The redhead interjects.

Luna and Ámbar share a look.

Luna turns to the brunette.

“You’re Nina, right?” She says, smiling.

Nina nods, “Which resident did you get assigned to? I got Bahiense.”

“The Nazi? Me too,” Luna replies.

The guy who bumped into her says, “You got the Nazi? So did I. At least we’ll be tortured together,” He says, trying to lean into Luna’s space.

Luna and Nina exchange a quick look saying, God, can you believe him?

A doctor comes up and calls out “Smith, Valente, Ponce, Simonetti, Medina, Sánchez, Álvarez,”

Ámbar walks up to the guy and asks, “Bahiense?”

He points down the hall.

The seven look down to see who he’s pointing at. It’s a woman slightly shorter than them, using a cane to stand up, ordering some other resident around.

The guy who bumped into her says, “I thought the Nazi would be a guy,”

Sexist much?

“I thought the Nazi would be...you know, the Nazi,” Luna mutters.

“Guys seriously? Maybe it’s just professional jealousy. You know, maybe she’s just brilliant and they’re so jealous so they call her the Nazi. Maybe she’s nice.” The redhead says, and Luna sees her nametag saying Jimena Medina.

The blonde next to her, Yamila Sánchez, Luna supposes, nods.

Which means the only one left that she doesn’t know would be...Luna cranes her neck to see his nametag.

Ramiro Ponce. Who is currently staring wistfully at Yamila.

Please.

“Let me guess, you still have hope left in your heart,” Ámbar says to Jimena, rolling her eyes as if it’s what she was born to do.

Jimena shoots Ámbar a dirty look (wow, Luna wishes her luck with that can of worms) and proceeds to try to shake Dr. Bahiense’s hand when she walks over.

Dr. Bahiense looks at her hand as if it’s infectious.

Jimena, undeterred, continues to say, “Right, well. I’m Jimena Medina, but you can call me Jim if it’s easier,”

Yamila, who seemed to jump out of thin air, says, “And you can call me Yam,”

Bahiense looks so unimpressed Luna thinks that if contempt alone was enough to murder someone, Bahiense would be a serial killer.

Luna shares a quick look with Simón, who gives her a reassuring nod.

Bahiense looks them all up and down, evidently annoyed with being stuck with their group (ouch).

"I have five rules. Memorize them. Rule number one, don't bother sucking up, I already hate you, that's not gonna change,” She starts, then moves to a bench, filled with different objects, “Trauma protocol, phone lists, pagers. Nurses will page you, you answer every page at a run. A run, that's rule number two. Your first shift starts now and lasts forty-eight hours,”

Everyone rushes to grab their pagers, studying them before Bahiense starts talking again.

“You’re interns, grunts, nobodies, bottom of the surgical food chain, you run labs, write orders, work every second night till you drop, and don't complain!”

Bahiense opens what Luna supposes is an on-call room, “On-call rooms. Attendings hog them, sleep when you can, where you can, which brings me to rule number three, if I'm sleeping, don't wake me, unless your patient is actually dying. Rule number four, the dying patient better not be dead when I get there, not only would you have killed someone, you would have also woken me for no good reason, we clear?”

Luna rushes to nod, writing furiously on her notepad, and then goes, oh.

She raises her hand.

Dr. Bahiense looks extremely pissed at Luna for having the audacity to have a question.

“Yes?”

“You said five rules. Those were only four.” Luna says, trying not to wilt against Dr. Bahiense’s gaze.

“Rule number five. When I move, you move,” She says after her pager beeps.

That’s some TV show shit right there.

They break into a run and watch as Dr. Bahiense runs down a couple of doctors.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

The helicopter—yes, a helicopter—lands, and a doctor pulls out a teenager on a stretcher.

This is way too much for Luna on her first day.

“What do we got?” Bahiense asks, and Luna hears Nina correct the grammar under her breath.

As the paramedic puts the girl on the stretcher (while she’s seizing) he says, “Katie Bryce, fifteen-year-old female, new-onset seizures, intermittent for the past week, ID lost en route, started grand mal seizing as we descended,”

Bahiense stops, leaning on her cane for a second, and then it’s all business.

“All right. Yam, put her on the side, 10 milligrams diazepam,” Bahiense groans when Yam does it incorrectly, “No, no, the white lead is on the right, righty whitey, smoke over fire, a large-bore I.V. don't let the blood haemolyse, let's go!”

Yam injects the diazepam and Katie stops seizing.

Luna releases the breath that she wasn’t aware she was holding.

Another doctor, in dark blue scrubs, another doctor comes up in stark contrast to what she and the other interns are wearing. Luna catches his name very quickly. Gastón Perida.

Nina sucks in a breath as he walks past them, Luna realizes with a start.

“So I heard we got a wet fish on dry land?” Dr. Perida says, and Luna catches how Nina stares at him with intent.

Dr. Bahiense, her sudden brashness gone, replaced with respect as she says, “Absolutely Dr. Perida,”

Dr. Perida nods, his eyes brushing over the intern group, stopping at Nina, and he then continues.

“All right, Dr. Bahiense, I’m gonna shotgun her,”

“That means every test in the book, CT, CBC, chem. seven, a tox screen, Nina and Ámbar, you're on labs, Ramiro and Yam, patient workups, Luna, get Katie for a CT, she's your responsibility now,”

Wonderful. Her first day and she gets the really hard patient.

“What about me and Simón?” Jim asks.

Bahiense looks so tired when she stares at Jim, “Right, you two, uh. You get to do rectal exams. Okay?”

Jim and Simón have faces that say no, not okay.

Luna makes a face gloating at Simón and he just glares at her in return.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Ámbar peeks into the OR where Dr. Bahiense is. Bahiense comes out and looks at her expectantly.

“Um, Katie Bryce's labs came out clear, there's nothing in the results that explain her seizures,” She says, hoping to catch Dr. Bahiense to ask her what she really wants to ask her.

“And…?”

“ I heard every year the attending on-call picks the best intern and, and lets them perform a procedure, during the first shift?” Ámbar asks, glaring back at Dr. Bahiense when she tries to stare her down.

Ámbar Smith does not get stared down.

“Go away. Now.” Dr. Bahiense says, and Ámbar groans internally.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Yam sighs at yet another ill-tried joke Ramiro attempts.

Flirty in med school and flirty now.

Why should she even bother?

“We have one more patient to work up,” She mumbles and he nods, walking slower to keep up with her pace.

She places her stethoscope and hears for a heartbeat. “Everything seems to be in order,”

“So he’ll be fine?” The woman next to him—presumably his wife—asks.

“If you don’t count that my bacon days are over, sure,” The patient replies.

Yam shares a smirk with Ramiro.

“You'll have surgery tomorrow with Dr. Perida, I hear he's good, and after that, you can have all of the bacon-flavored soy product you can eat,” Ramiro interjects, speaking easily with the patients.

“Please, kill me now,” the patient jokes.

“Wish I could, but I took the Hippocratic Oath for a reason,” Yam replies absently, going over and signing his charts.

She blushes at the weird looks she gets and rolls her eyes at Ramiro’s never-ending smirk.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Katie. Won’t. Stop. Talking. Which isn’t helping Luna find her way through these halls.

Did she just miss the last turn?

“You’re lost,” the kid says, grumbling.

What do you think I’m trying to fix right now? Luna thinks to herself and just about stops herself from saying.

“I’m not lost.” Luna insists, then remembers she’s a doctor, “How’re you feeling?”

“I’m missing my pageant. How do you think I feel?”

“Right. You’re missing your pageant.”

This poor girl is in the hospital with seizures and the only thing that she can think about is her pageant.

Luna feels sorry for her.

“The Spokane Teen Miss? I was in the top ten after the first two rounds. This is my year. I could've won,”

Luna absently hums and realizes that they’re going the wrong way. Again.

She turns around and pushes Katie back the same way.

“You are so lost. What are you, new?”

Luna chokes back a laugh. Yeah, something like that.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Yam watches Ramiro try to give their patient a central line. It’s not working.

And it’s visibly hurting the patient.

She groans and pushes past him, about to put the line in when Dr. Perida waltzes into their room and raises his eyebrows.

“Out.” He says, his nice demeanor replaced with annoyance.

Do all of the residents and attendings just hate interns on principle?

Yam glares at Ramiro and pulls him out, watching from the window as Perida puts the line in perfectly.

“Bet you used to mess up a lot when you started out,” Ramiro tries to joke with Perida.

Yam just winces and nods at Dr. Perida as she leaves.

Ramiro at least has the decency to look sheepish.

This is going to be a long shift.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Luna sits, taking Katie’s patient history and generally listening to her incessant babbling.

“I twisted my ankle. I do rhythmic gymnastics, which is like, really cool. Nobody else does it. And I tripped over my ribbon, and I didn't get stuck with someone this clueless. And that was like, a nurse,” Katie says.

Luna bites back a retort.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Simón groans at the plate of food in front of him. The number of rectal exams he and Jim had to do was enough to take the appetite away from anyone.

“This shift is 80 hours long, you have to eat, Simón,” Ámbar mutters, her gaze hardening after leaving Simón’s eyes.

“I can’t.”

“Eat.” Ámbar insists, pushing Simón’s plate towards him.

“You try eating after performing 17 rectal exams. The Nazi hates me. I want to puke.” Simón says, his face contorting.

“Just don’t puke near me,” Ámbar mutters.

“The Nazi’s just a resident. Attendings hate me,” Ramiro replies.

“Did you know Luna is inbred?” Nina asks, and all heads whip to her immediately.

Partly because no one expected the shy ingenue to say anything.

And partly because Luna being inbred is very surprising.

Simón hurries to say “It’s not uncommon to be the kid of a doctor,”

“I mean royally inbred. Her mother is Lili Benson.”

“Shut up. The Lili Benson?” Jim asks.

Nina nods.

“Who’s Lili Benson?” Ramiro asks.

“The Benson method? Where’d you go to med school, Antarctica?” Yam says incredulously.

No one notices how Simón and Ámbar tense up as Yam continues talking. “She was one of the biggest women surgeons. She practically invented th—”

“She won the Harper Avery. Twice.” Jim says, rolling her eyes at Ramiro.

“So I didn’t know one thing.”

“I would kill to have Lili Benson as my mother. Scratch that, I’d kill to be Lili Benson.” Nina says, her eyes alight.

“Katie Bryce is a pain in the ass. I swear if it wouldn’t get me fired, I’d strangle her with my bare hands.” Luna says, walking over to their table, sitting next to Nina.

She seems to miss the wistful glance Simón throws her way.

She does seem to notice the way everyone’s staring at her.

“What?”

Nina opens her mouth to say something but stops immediately when Dr. Perida walks over.

“Good afternoon interns. It's posted, but I thought I'd share the good news personally. As you know, the honor of performing the first surgery is reserved for the intern that shows the most promise. As I'm running the OR today, I get to make that choice,” Dr. Perida says, and Luna feels a rush of hope.

Or. Felt. Seeing as Dr. Perida is clapping Ramiro on his back (it was kind of worth it to see him choke a little on his salad) and saying, “Ramiro Ponce. You’ll be scrubbing in on an appendectomy this afternoon. Congrats.”

Luna deflates.

She wanted that surgery.

She wanted it really badly.

“Me?” Ramiro asks, not quite believing it. Or maybe he’s just wilting under Yam’s intense glare.

“Enjoy.” Dr. Perida says, nodding to everyone.

Luna doesn’t fail to notice that he’s staring at Nina while he says that.

Nina doesn’t fail to notice either, if the blush on her cheeks has anything to say about it.

Ramiro looks like he’s still in shock.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

“I’ve seen his file. Ramiro Ponce barely even made the cut to get into the program. He’s not your guy.” Juliana says to Gastón, raising her eyebrows.

“Oh, he’s my guy alright,” Gastón responds, absently checking the labs.

Juliana sighs, “Every year you pick your guy, and every year your guy suffers most.”

Gastón smiles. Everyone who knows him knows his easy nature, his inclination to being on the side of less serious.

Unless of course, it has to do with work.

“Terrorize one, and the rest fall in line, Bahiense.”

“I get it. I respect it. But Ramiro? Ponce is a puppy. A cute little puppy that is waiting to be killed. He can’t take the pressure. Think about it, Perida.” Juliana says, walking away.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Luna watches as Katie’s parents stumble into Katie’s room.

The look of pure worry and fear on their faces makes Luna warm to them immediately.

A couple of hours ago, their kid was supposed to go on stage and wear a sash and be a kid.

Now they’re scared that their kid could be dying.

“Katie?” The mom asks, trying to hold her hand.

Luna falters, not wanting to break their little window.

“They gave her a sedative for the CT scan, so she’s just a tad groggy,” Luna says, standing up.

“Will she be okay?”

“Does she need surgery?” The parents ask at the same time.

Their urging faces make Luna wish she had an answer.

“Uh. You know, I’m not her doctor, I am a doctor, just not hers. Anyway, I’m not Katie’s doctor. I’ll go find him.” Luna rambles.

Luna finds Bahiense, “Katie’s parents have questions. Should I get Dr. Perida to answer them?”

“What? No. Perida’s off the case. The case is the new neuro attending’s case, Dr. Balsano. He’s over there.” Bahiense says, pointing to…

Oh god.

Please.

Not today.

This is not happening.

Matteo turns and stops dead in his tracks, his eyes clicking in recognition.

This is not happening.

Luna is not dealing with this.

She turns away from his gaze and walks away. What is she going to do?

She walks towards the stairwell and gets grabbed in.

She stumbles and Matteo catches her, running a hand through his hair, which Luna grudgingly admits looks not bad.

No. Luna. Stop it. Luna. No.

“Dr. Balsano. Did you need anything?” Luna asks, trying to not look at flustered as she is.

Matteo looks positively ecstatic at this turn of events. “Dr. Balsano? This morning it was Matteo. Now it’s Dr. Balsano.”

Luna dearly wants to slap that smirk off of his face.

“Dr. Balsano, we should pretend this never happened,”

“What never happened? You sleeping with me last night or kicking me out this morning because I don’t know about you, but both are memories I’d dearly love to keep.”

This guy really can’t take a hint.

“No. No. No. This is not happening. There are no memories of anything. I’m not the girl in the bar and you’re not the guy in the bar. I am your intern, Dr. Balsano.”

“I see how it is. You took advantage of me last night and now you want to forget about it.” He says, smirking incessantly.

“I most certainly did not,”

“I was drunk and vulnerable. Not to mention, insanely good-looking,”

“You’re not that good-looking,” Luna says, while her traitorous brain says Liar over and over.

“Sure I’m not. But last night, I was wearing my red shirt and I was extremely good-looking and you took advantage,”

He’s not entirely wrong about the red shirt.

“I didn—”

“Want to take advantage again? Say, Friday night?”

He’s smiling again, only this time it’s a smile, not a smirk.

Maybe Luna wouldn’t have said no if he wasn’t an attending.

“No. You’re an attending. I’m your intern. And I would seriously appreciate it if you stopped looking at me like that,” Luna says, glaring at him. It doesn’t seem to deter him.

“Like what?” He asks innocently as if he has no idea what he’s doing right now.

“Like you’ve slept with me,”

Matteo smirks.

“Dr. Balsano. Have you ever considered the fact that this is inappropriate?” Luna breathes.

He doesn’t say anything.

Luna sighs and leaves, the door slamming behind her.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

“Open. Identify. Irrigate. Close.” Jim instructs, and Yam sighs.

“Jim, I think he’d know,”

“He looks like he’s going to puke,” Jim shoots back.

Yam looks at Ramiro and says, “We have to go to the gallery now. Don’t screw it up.”

They walk up and take a seat behind Luna and Nina.

The intern above them says, “He’s going to faint. He’s a fainter.”

Yam fights back a if you only knew.

“Nah, I’m guessing code brown. Right in his pants,” another intern snickers.

Yam and Jim share a look.

Sure, she’s not a huge fan of Ramiro but he helped her a lot in med school. He helped Jim a lot in med school.

This is just savage.

“He’s going to sweat himself unsterile,”

“10 bucks he’s messing up the McBird,” someone says.

Oh god, they’re betting on Ramiro.

“20 says he cries,” Ámbar says, and sends an apologetic look at Luna.

“I’ll put 20 on him melting down completely,”

“50 says he pulls the whole thing off.” Yam hears herself say.

Luna grins at her, “That’s one of us down there. The first one of us. Where the hell is your loyalty?”

Yam breathes out.

The entire gallery, while it was buzzing before, is now silent.

“75 he can’t even ID the appendix,” Ámbar says again.

This time it’s Simón shooting her the look.

“I’ll take that action,” someone says.

Eric, Yam realizes.

The idiot from their bio class.

Nina elbows Luna when Dr. Perida says, “Okay, Ponce, let’s see what you can do,”

Jim breathes in quickly and Yam also holds her breath.

Do it right do it right please do it right.

“Here it comes,” Simón says.

“Scalpel,” Ramiro says and the nurse hands it to him, echoing the word.

Ramiro takes it and everyone cheers.

Perida motions for them to shut up as Nina says, “God, he’s quite a bit of trouble,”

Ramiro gets ready to cut as Perida instructs, “More pressure.”

Ramiro manages to do it without any mishaps and then proceeds to say, “Pickups.”

The scrub nurse echoes the command and hands him the instrument.

They go on for a little bit, and Yam thinks he might actually pull it off.

Until it goes downhill after Ramiro takes out the appendix.

Perida mutters an angry remark as all the interns in the gallery call him Double O’7.

Jim shares a worried look with Yam and asks Luna, “What does 007 mean?”

Luna sends them an apologetic look.

“License to Kill.”

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

The cool air rushes into the basement that Bahiense’s interns have settled into.

The majority of them pile onto the gurney as Nina goes to the vending machine looking for some chocolate.

Luna winces at the whine that Ramiro makes as he walks into their “hideout”.

“They’re calling me 007 aren’t they?”

Luna groans and shoves Simón’s head off of Ámbar’s lap so she can fall asleep in it.

She’s too tired to deal with any human interaction that requires her to, you know, have any sort of emotional security.

“No one’s calling you 007,” Jim and Yam lie (but they do it in unison so like, props).

Ramiro shoots Yam an annoyed look, “I was on an elevator and Eric whispered 007,”

Ámbar pushes Luna’s head off of her lap and glares at Ramiro, “How many times do we have to go through with this? 5, 10, 15? Please tell me soon or I’m going to rim your head off.”

Ramiro sits on the gurney and groans “Eric whispered 007 in the elevator and everyone laughed,”

Luna picks her head up from where she’s trying (unsuccessfully) to fall asleep and actually feels sorry for the guy for a second but the aching limbs and pounding migraine make it kind of hard to console the poor guy.

“They weren’t laughing at you,” Jim says.

“You sure?”

“Would we lie to you?” Jim asks.

“Yes,” Ramiro, Ámbar, Simon and Luna say.

“007 is a state of mind,” Nina yells from the vending machine and throws a packet of chips at Luna as she walks back.

“Says the girl who finished first at freaking Stanford,” Simón yells at her.

Nina just rolls her eyes in response.

Just as Luna finally feels the call of sleep, her pager beeps.

She just wanted 5 minutes.

“It’s 911. Damn. I gotta go,” and Luna takes off at a sprint.

“I should’ve gone into geriatrics. No one cares if you kill an old person.” Ramiro continues after Luna leaves.

“Yes. Yes, they do care if you kill an old person. Plus. Surgery is hot. Geriatrics is… Well, it’s for freaks who live in the basement with their mom,” Simón replies.

“I have got to move out of my mom’s,” Ramiro mutters.

Nina and Ámbar share a grin.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Luna’s out of breath by the time she gets to Katie’s room.

She really has to go to the gym more.

“Finally,” Katie mutters.

Luna looks around, seeing if anything’s wrong.

Oh god, please tell me she has a good reason for this. She has a good reason. Maybe. Hopefully.

“Are you alright?” The nurse paged me 911.”

“Ha, it took me forever to get her to even pick up the phone. I had to go full Hulk.”

“Wait. So there’s nothing wrong? Nothing medically wrong?”

“I’m bored.” Katie shrugs.

Luna likes to think she’s a nice person. A little absentminded at times, but a nice person nonetheless.

Katie, however, is really testing the whole “do no harm” thing.

“I am not your babysitter. I am not your cruise director. You can’t just page me for anything.”

“Don’t be so overdramatic. My pageant is supposed to be on cable, but it’s like this hospital lives in the ’90s. I can’t find anything. If someone who’s not me gets the crown, I should at least get to see it.”

Luna takes a deep breath. She’s a teenager. You were also stupid as a teenager.

“Okay. This is a hospital. There are sick people here. Go to sleep and stop wasting my time.”

“I can’t sleep, my head’s all full.”

“Those are called thoughts. Run with them.” Luna says in a fit of anger.

She’s been working for almost 24 hours and she just wanted 2 minutes of rest.

But maybe she shouldn’t have snapped at a patient.

But that’s a lesson for another day.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Luna and Nina are in the ER when they hear a loud voice.

“4B has post-op pneumonia. Let’s get her started on antibiotics, okay?” An intern says to a nurse.

Someone didn’t tell the newbie not to piss off the nurses.

“Are you sure it’s the right diagnosis?”

“Oh gee, I don’t know. I’m only an intern. But here’s an idea. You go and spend 4 years in med school and then talk to me. She’s got shortness of breath and fever. It’s post-op pneumonia. Start antibiotics.” He sneers.

Luna rolls her eyes.

The same guy walks over to her and Nina, “God, I hate nurses. I’m Benicio. I’m with Jeremy. You guys are with the Nazi, right?”

“You know it doesn’t have to be pneumonia, right? It could be splinting. Or she could have aPE.”

He sneers again (does it ever leave his face?), “As I said, I hate nurses.” and walks away.

“Well, he’s an absolute idiot,” Nina says, shooting daggers towards Benicios across the room.

Luna’s about to respond, but her pager beeps again.

“Dammit, Katie.”

This time she walks.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

#soy luna #soy luna fic #lutteo #soy luna grey's au #simbar #yamiro #gastina #hope you guys enjoy it!

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buckyownsmylife · 3 years

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v e l o c i t y - chapter ix

The one where John’s your true mate, but he doesn’t want you to be his.

In a universe where fate grants you a new mate whenever you lose yours, John has lived quite comfortably for many years with the knowledge that he was alone after Mary. That all comes crumbling down the second that he meets you. How could the universe choose someone so young to be his omega?

for general warnings and author’s notes, please go to the fic’s masterlist.

A/N: Okay so, my bad. One more chapter after this one!

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I had a hard time sleeping since that night in the laundry room. Well, it was hard to go to bed alone, knowing only one wall separated me from John, knowing the only thing missing for him to claim me was time. He needed time to get over the image of me as a child, accept that I was another person, a woman now - and his mate. And I needed to find some sort of patience to hold onto while he got there.

That didn’t mean I was a saint, though. My desire was still there, even stronger, I dared to say. Now that he had recognized that he truly wanted me, it felt too easy, it felt simple and I just wanted to reach out and have him touch me - really, anywhere.

But I wanted to give him the space he needed to come to terms with this. So I resorted to long nights of touching myself to the thought of him, wondering what he was doing on his bed, if he thought of me when the bunker’s silence grew almost deadly and the sky became darker than a demon’s eye.

And then one night, I heard it.

It was a woman’s moan, coming from the room next door, and instinctively every nerve in my omega body stood in attention, ready to pounce. Who the fuck was with John? Why would he do this? But then his groan reached my ear, sounding much closer, much clearer, and by the time I heard another male’s voice panting, I knew what was happening.

John was watching porn.

The thought thrilled me to no end, even though I couldn’t really explain just why. Maybe it was the fact that he was doing something that intimate, right next to me, not knowing I could hear…

Or maybe he did, and that’s exactly why he was doing it. That had me drenching my panties, quickly getting rid of my clothes before laying back on the bed, a hand between my legs as I tried to listen to his every sound.

Only a few grunts and pants seemed to come from him, the rest mainly from the movie he was watching, but I could distinctly identify the wet, rhythmic slap of his hand meeting his navel along the sounds of the television, and that was the tempo I followed as I started to touch myself.

I got lost in the memories of when it was his fingers inside of me, his scent drowning mine, yet my attention never wavered from the room next door, trying to memorize every little thing about his search for pleasure while I did the same. I just knew it wouldn’t be enough to get me off until his pace quickened, a growl escaping the depths of his chest as he reached his release, and the thought of his cum covering his naked body had me mewling as my cunt clenched around my own digits.

Suddenly, it was all too quiet. All too very quiet.

“Are you touching yourself, little one?” His voice came closer than I expected it to - not that I expected it at all - and it had me gasping in surprise, imagining him on the other side of the wall against which my bed rested, trying to hear me do the exact same thing he’d been doing seconds before. “Are you touching yourself to the sounds of me getting myself off?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. How the fuck was I supposed to resist him?

“Are you soaking wet?” The questions just kept coming, prompting my movements to grow quicker, more desperate at the clear desire dripping in his tone. “Because of me?” A simple chuckle shouldn’t sound this hot. “No James here to prepare you this time, huh?”

And that was all it took for me to reach my high, cumming around my fingers with a strangled moan as John’s low laugh resonated from my left. “Atta girl. Bet you’ll sleep real good tonight.” And just when I thought he was done and I could finally breathe again, “I know I will.”

Oh, shit. I was trying to be patient and give him his time, but if he thought I’d let this sort of teasing just go by, he was in for a treat. Better get ready for war, Winchester.

John’s P.O.V.

I knew I was playing with fire, but no one could have prepared me for the special type of hell I was forced to live in during the next few weeks.

It was like she was doing anything she could to make my resolve break. She wanted me to lose control, take her again just like I did that time when I thought another Alpha would try to lay claim on her.

And I had to give it to her - the memories of when she was young were nothing but distant flashbacks I could only remember if I tried to think back on why I was trying to resist her.

Even then, it was like that little girl was someone else entirely, someone I didn’t know anymore - certainly not the young woman who was currently caressing the inside of my thighs and slowly getting closer and closer to my crotch in the middle of this fucking diner.

I took advantage of the fact that Dean had left the table to hit on one of the waitresses and Sam had left to ring someone to finally hold her wrists, stop her quest for control over my dick and my nerves.

“You keep trying to test my patience, you little brat. You wouldn’t like what I’d do if I actually lost it, right here, right now.” Her sharp inhale was music to my ears, a smirk taking over my face as I looked down on her by my side.

But of course, she couldn’t just let it go.

“What would you do, old man?” My chest inflated as I took in her defiance, glancing at the door and Dean to make sure no one would come back soon before turning my body fully towards her, caging her against the wall in the booth.

“I’d put you over my knee, rip those pretty jeans and spank the shit out of you, omega. I’d let everyone watch me bruise your skin, I don’t even care that all these alphas are staring at you. I’d let them see, so maybe they’d know they ain’t got no chance with you.” The sweet smell of her arousal was easy to catch, so I knew she was soaked by now - and my smirk warned her of just how much I was aware of my effect on her body.

A few seconds of silence followed my words, both of us breathing heavily as we stared at each other, trying to hold back. Until she broke the spell, simply by being her.

“God, can you get any kinkier?” I wanted to be mad, I really did, but it was just impossible. My whole body shook under the power of my laughter, and I knew Dean was looking back at us now, just like some of the other patrons.

“Try me,” I provoked, raising my eyebrows at her as I reached for my mug of coffee again. She just kept staring at me, lips pursed in a pout, arms crossed in front of her body, the perfect picture of annoyance.

“You’re hot, but you’re very mean. Did you know that?” I choked on the hot liquid, almost spilling it all over myself, not having expected to be so casually called hot by someone as attractive as her in a million years.

“But you know what?” She pressed on, not giving me any time to recover. “I can be meaner.” That sentence, whispered in my ear as she pressed her body against mine, sent shivers down my spine. “Game’s on, Winchester.”

… What had I gotten myself into?

Y/N’s P.O.V.

The fact that we had managed to get John Winchester to go to a club was mind-blowing and hilarious to me. He looked so out of place - much older than most around, and underdressed in comparison to the guys his age, who were all displaying the same type of clothes as the fuck boys who were so desperately trying to get with anything that moved.

“You have something in your hair,” I commented, using this as an excuse to press my body tightly against his when I reached out to fix his locks, and even though he was quick to push me away, keeping me at a distance, there was a smile on his face.

“You need to stop doing that.” I bit my lip as I looked up at him with the most innocent expression I could muster. It was honestly hard not to laugh.

“Doing what?” John scoffed, letting me go to turn back to his whiskey, but once the liquid was in his lips again, his eyes traveled up and down my body, almost undressing me.

“You like my dress?” I asked, twirling so he could get the full view, even though I already knew how he felt about it. There was an entire discussion about the piece of clothing before we managed to leave the bunker, and I still believed it was the entire reason why he decided to tag along to my night out with the boys.

“I think we’ve established this is barely even a dress, little girl.” Giggling, I stepped closer to him again, using the excuse some drunk dude gave me when he lost his balance and wobbled in my direction, my hand falling precisely over John’s crotch as I pressed our bodies together once more.

“You know there’s other people around us, right?” He whispered right by my ear, raising goosebumps all over my skin when the hand that wasn’t holding his drink settled over my ass. “This little skirt of yours is giving me all types of thoughts…”

I was just about to ask him to elaborate on that when his head suddenly snapped up, meeting my eyes instead of looking at my breasts. “Why on Earth aren’t you wearing any underwear?”

I giggled when I understood that he could feel the absence of other fabrics underneath the thin material of my dress since he was now rubbing and squeezing my butt. I was suddenly shy, more because I didn’t expect him to call me out on it than anything else, so I buried my face in his chest as he kept teasing me, “Do you have something against it? Is that it? Are you allergic to panties?”

He swayed us somewhat to the beat of the song that had taken everyone to the dance floor, and I just relished in his embrace before finally coming up with something to say. “You liked it so much the last time…” I reminded him, not expecting what he’d counter.

“Last time was a mistake.” Immediately, I pushed away from him, meeting his eyes in shock and hurt as his words pained me in a way I never expected him to do - not again. His eyebrows were furrowed as he stared back at me, obviously confused by my sudden reaction until he understood what he had said.

“No, no,” he called out, easily pulling me close again despite me trying to escape. I hated that I cherished that night so badly, desired him so ardently ever since, just for him to go ahead and write it off as a mistake.

“That’s not what I meant, ‘mega,” he tried to calm me down, nose rubbing over my scent gland in an effort to lower my heartbeat and suppress my anger. It worked perfectly, as much as I didn’t want it to.

“I just mean, I didn’t want the first time I touch you to be because of anger and jealousy.” His explanation drained all irritation from my body, leaving me slumping against his hard chest.

“I didn’t want it to happen like that,” he continued. “You deserved more than that.” My heartbeat was pounding to the rhythm of the music, not quite believing this turn of events.

“I mean… I didn’t even kiss you, for fuck’s sake.” The sound of his despair against his own actions had me mewling against him, absentmindedly rutting my ass against his crotch, not even realizing I was doing it until his fingers pressed tightly on my hips - not stopping me, just… holding me there.

“I want- I want our first time to be meaningful.” And that, right then, stole my breath away. Because I understood the implicit message. I understood that this was him, saying he was ready. “Hopefully, in a bed,” he continued, and I smiled to myself at his sweet plans for us.

“But if you keep teasing me so much, I’ll bury my fingers inside of you right here, I swear.” This last part was uttered against the shell of my ear, making me go perfectly still, at last stopping my movements against the bulge that had become more than evident in his old jeans.

“And Lord knows where that would take us,” he commented, hands holding me just under the curve of my breasts, making me shiver as he nuzzled against my neck from behind. “By now, you know how easily I can get carried away.”

And I did. Just the memory of it made me shiver, but maybe it was the man behind me, whose hands were now openly exploring my body as if we weren’t surrounded by people in a smelly club.

“Yeah, I know…” I panted, body sensuously moving against his without even intending to, just needing to feel the weight of his hands all over me, forever. “You’ve done it before.”

And that was the last thing I spoke for the next few hours because right then John turned me in his arms and took my lips on his, devouring me in the dark corner of the dance floor, while the rest of the club danced without a care in the world, not taking notice on two mates finally giving in to one another.

The only thing that mattered right then was him and I.

#my series #john winchester x reader #john winchester reader #john winchester series #john winchester reader insert #john winchester reader inserts #john winchester fanfiction #winchester fanfiction

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ecoamerica · 15 days

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professortennant · 3 years

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Hello! If you like either of these from the kissing prompts post, I’m partial to #8 (shoulder kiss) because Hannah’s got amazing arms and shoulders and #13 (goodbye kiss) because I’m a sucker for a little angst

this was gonna be a 5 times fic and i was gonna get both of these in here but then i finished 3 and like......couldn’t bring myself to write the angsty goodbye part so INSTEAD have like 2500 words of fluff and light angst

The first time she takes him to the airport, his first season as AFC Richmond’s head coach is over and she has granted him a blissful two months of reprieve from paperwork and contract negotiations.

(“Are you sure?” he’d asked, looking at her—really looking at her—to make sure she wasn’t putting on a front for him. “Because I can help. I mean, I’m not so hot with laptop thing or the math thing, but I’m pretty good with the people thing.”

“I know,” she’d said, patting his arm gently. “But I can handle it. Go be with your boy.”

He’d let out a little yip, pressed a kiss to her cheek and practically leapt and run out of her office, calling out over his shoulder, “You’re the best boss!”)

It’s a thirty minute drive from her home to his and another hour to Heathrow and Ted spends every last one of those minutes bouncing his leg and checking and re-checking his phone, pulling up the electronic boarding pass as if making sure today was the right day and time and—

“Ted, the plane isn’t going anywhere without you on it.”

“Right, right.” He slipped his phone back into his pocket, twisting in the passenger seat beside her. It felt too impersonal to send her drive to pick him up or to allow him to hire his own driver, not after the hell she’d put him through this season. It was the smallest of steps in her journey to earn back his trust (no matter how many times he’d told her she already had it).

“Can I tell you something?”

“I sense you will no matter what I say.”

He’d just grinned at that, hands wringing nervously in his lap. “What if too much has changed? What if I get there and Henry and Michelle have formed their own little club that I’m just not part of anymore?”

“Oh, Ted,” she’d sighed, taking her eyes off the road for just a moment to look over at him in sympathy. “That’s—that’s just not going to happen.”

“But what if I get there and I don’t fit?”

“Ted, I don’t think there’s anywhere on this planet that you don’t fit.” He’d blushed a little at that in an aw shucks way that she found entirely too endearing. She tried to remember her promise to herself: to be more open, to be more available. Right. She adjusted her hands on the steering wheel and flicked her gaze over to him once more, just to make sure he was still listening. “My father was a very successful businessman. He traveled all over the world and was always away from home. I missed him terribly, even if I knew he wasn’t leaving because he wanted to.”

“Not really helping, boss.”

“But,” she continued, glaring at him. “Whenever he came home, it was the best day of the year. He used to gather me up into his arms and swing me around in our front garden and tell me all the stories of the places he’d been to and it wiped away every moment of missing him once he was back. I never felt like he didn’t belong back home. Not once.”

The feeling of Ted’s hand settling atop of hers on the gear shift startled her and she looked down, took in the sight of his tan, calloused hand covering hers. She made the tight turn into the drop-off lane in the Heathrow Departures section of the car park.

“Thanks, Rebecca. Really. I mean it.”

“Yes, well, family is hard.” And this was the part that would cost her, would hurt like hell. She threw on her hazards and put the car into park. “Ted, while you’re home, I-I want you to think about your position here at Richmond.”

He frowned at her. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I pulled you away from your family to bring you here and I know things have changed for you, but if you need to leave, if you want to check if Wichita State will take you back while you’re home, I would understand.”

“Rebecca,” Ted said, a small smile on his face. He gripped her hand in his, tugged it into his lap and rubbed his thumb over her knuckles in a soothing manner. “I told you already: You and me have got unfinished business here.”

“But, your fam—”

“I’m coming back.”

When he said it like that, firm and sure and like a promise, she couldn’t help but believe him, the reassurance settling something anxious in her chest, a fear that she didn’t know she was harboring.

He leaned across the console and for the second time in two weeks, pressed a soft, barely-there kiss to the curve of her cheek, his mustache tickling her, before disappearing just as quickly, sliding out the car and ducking back in for a moment to tell her goodbye. “Thanks again for the ride.” He winked at her and then, “See you in two months.”

(About ten hours later, in the middle of the night, she received a text message from Ted: a picture of Ted and Henry in the front yard, Ted’s arms wrapped tightly around the little boy, their heads thrown back and laughing. The picture was blurred enough for her to tell that they were in motion. Ted’s accompanying message read: Thanks for the advice, boss.

She pressed the little heart reaction on each of the messages, just as Sam had shown her last week .)

ii.

Between the start of the Championship League and Christmas, things had changed around the AFC Richmond clubhouse. Roy now wore a coach’s jacket and lanyard, scowling his way up and down the football pitch. Keeley sported a shiny ring on her left hand and a new title as Richmond’s Media and PR Director. Beard and Nate spent every waking moment attending matches across the country, absorbing the strengths and weaknesses of their opponents and working on ways to incorporate new strategies into their own game.

And over weekends spent exploring the winding cobblestone paths of London’s markets, ducking into older-than-Shakespeare bookshops together and weekends spent cooking barbecue and walking through parks, Ted and Rebecca had found somewhere along the way that they meant more to each other than just boss and gaffer, than just friends.

(He’d always assumed when it happened—if it happened—it would be in a rush of emotion after a big game or in quiet, shared comfort after a loss. But it had nothing to do with AFC Richmond, they came together on their own over a shared love of yellowed paperbacks and the bit of latte foam in his mustache and her gentle, exasperation with him, thumb swiping over his top lip and—and then her mouth on his, his hands on her hip and cradling her face, a murmured, “Finally,” against her lips.)

But tonight is Ted’s last night in London for a week, closing the gap between Boxing Day and the first week of the near year in Kansas City with Henry. They’d fallen into a devastatingly easy intimacy, one she knew she would never recover from. His flat was all but vacant now, most of his clothes and books mixed up with hers—his stack of adventure books and motivational, leadership workbooks on his side of the bed and her stack of mystery novels and Sudoku puzzles on hers, his open jar of peanut butter on her kitchen counter and her sheets smelling of his body wash.

Tonight, they sit up in bed, the soft, yellow light of their bedside lamps allowing them both to read in bed together, glasses perched on the ends of their noses. Beneath the bedsheets, Ted’s toes wiggle excitedly.

“I don’t know how I’m gonna sleep,” he tells her, dogearing his page and putting the book away, rolling onto his side to face Rebecca. “Feels like Christmas all over again. Two Christmases, Rebecca.”

She looks at him over the rim of her glasses, smiling ruefully at him. “You better sleep tonight or the jet lag will kill you.”

“So wise,” he teases, leaning over to press a soft kiss to her exposed shoulders. She sighed, and kissed the top of his head before returning back to her book. But Ted didn’t roll back to his side of the bed, instead tracing his fingertips along the hem of her pajama top, lips pressing once more to her shoulders, open-mouthed and enticing.

“Ted,” she warns, voice low and breathy. “What do you think you’re doing?”

His hand slides against her belly, creeping up to cup her breasts and thumb at her nipple while his mouth works over the curve of her shoulder and to her neck, nuzzling against her and encouraging her to tilt her head back to allow him better access.

“I just thought of a very, very good way to tire myself out and get a good night’s sleep.”

“Oh did you?” She scratched her nails down his back and into his hair, holding his mouth to the place on her neck that made her legs feel like jelly.

He hummed against her skin, reaching blindly for her book to toss it off the bed and settle atop her, mouth working on the underside of her jaw and then to her mouth, kissing her hungrily.

“A week apart, Rebecca,” he gasps against her mouth, pressing his hips against hers and grinding down. “That seems an awful long time.”

She loops her arms around his neck and one leg hitches around his hips, bringing their bodies closer. “A week and then you’re coming back, right?”

She hates that she still has to ask, hates that she needs the reassurance, hates that she is terrified he will leave her behind irreparably broken.

His face softens and he traces a fingertip over her brow and nose and kisses her softly. “Coupon for life, remember, young lady? I ain’t goin’ anywhere without you.”

She presses her forehead to his and breathes him in, tightens her hold on him for a moment and memorizes the feel of him against her. And then he moves against her and it’s a rush of frenzied touches, gasps and moans, slick skin and hurried, whispered assurances.

When she drops him off at the airport, this time with a soft kiss, and watches him disappear into the sliding double doors of Heathrow, she remembers his words: I’m coming back.

iii.

Their first fight involves raised voices and snappy words and a level of miscommunication that would make Keeley feel ashamed. It starts with a bad day for both of them—frustrating lawyers dragging their feet on salary re-negotiations and a string of vapid, mind numbing conference calls for Rebecca and a team of unmotivated, surly footballers for Ted, in-fighting and dirty scrimmage play making his blood boil. It ends with Rebecca snapping at Ted for not loading the dishwasher properly and Ted accusing her of micromanaging.

“You know what,” he growls, barely keeping a lid on his temper, can feel himself spiraling out of control. “You once told me to leave before I say something I regret and I think I better just do that.”

“Good! Go!”

She watches with a heaving chest and pounding heart as he collects his AFC Richmond puffer jacket, steps into one of his many pairs of Nikes, and storms out the front door into the evening and away from her.

The moment his form disappears from view, her face crumples and she collapses into the kitchen chair, face buried in her shaking hands. As far as fights went, it certainly wasn’t the worst she’d ever had, her mind helpfully supplying her with flashes of the knockout-dragout fights she and Rupert had frequently engaged in, the cruelty and worst of each of them always sneaking out.

But cruelty wasn’t in Ted’s bones and it wasn’t in hers either. She didn’t want to fight and she didn’t want to go to bed alone and angry, not after nearly a year of sleeping next to Ted every night.

She sent him a quick text: I’m sorry. Bad day at the office and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. Come back home and we can talk about this.

But no response comes and all she can do is wait, pacing the front hallway, cleaning and cleaning and cleaning the kitchen. She sticks her finger into his peanut butter jar and hopes the sticky substance will help hold her heart together until he comes home.

Maybe she’d always expected it would come to this—her ruining them, driving him away, just as Rupert had said she’d done to him.

Not enough, Rebecca. You’re just…not enough for me.

But, she reminds herself, Ted is not Rupert. She and Ted are not she and Rupert. He’ll come back, they’ll fix this, it’ll be fine. Her head repeats it over and over again like a mantra, but her heart is stubborn and frozen in paralyzing fear.

Twenty minutes go by.

Thirty.

Forty.

An hour later, she picks up her phone, checks it again but there are no messages from him, no indication that he’s coming back. A small, desperate sob slips out from the back of her throat and she presses the heels of her hands into her eyes, willing the sting of tears away.

The sound of the front door opening startles her and before she can rush into the hallway to see if it’s him, Ted stands in the sitting room before her, brambles in his hair.

“I, uh, got a little lost walking around, got stuck in my head. And, you know, the streets look a lot different at night, so—”

But she doesn’t care if he wandered into a bush or hitchhiked home with an aardvark or whatever ridiculous adventure he’s been on in the last hour, he’s home.

She stands, throws her arms around his neck and shoulders, presses herself against him and buries her face in his neck. “I’m sorry,” she gasps into his skin. “I’m sorry.”

He shushes and soothes her, rubs his palm over her back and up over her head, slipping his fingers into her hair and stroking over and over again. “Hey, hey, none of this, okay? I’m sorry, alright? But we got through our first big fight, right? We’re okay, we’re okay.”

She holds him tighter, turns her head to kiss his neck and cheek and jaw and lips. “I was so worried you weren’t going to—” But she can’t even finish the worry, ashamed she even doubted him, some fears too deeply ingrained.

Ted cradles her face, rubs his thumb over the curve of her cheek. “I told you, sweetheart, you got me for life. You got your listening ears on?” He reaches up to tug gently on her ears, making her smile. “Okay good, listen up: I will always come back. For as long as you want me, you got me.”

“Okay,” she sighs, turns her head into his palm and kisses the center of his hand. “Okay.”

#ted x rebecca #ted lasso #ted lasso fic #enjoy! im sorry i couldn't think of a 4 and 5!#pwfishing

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simonsrosebud · 3 years

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Alright — this is very important — what’s the wedding party look like? Do either of them get walked down the aisle? What do the bachelor parties look like? What’s the first dance like? The cake cutting? OR! Do they just elope?

Either way, the most important thing of all — what are their vows?

i’m going to warn you: i’m afraid this is going to be a very long post.

the wedding is in january, before playoffs have the chance to start up. it’s easier that way also, because most of their friends either play exy or coach it, so they’re all off too. and dalton’s professor friends are off for winter break.

that being said, they’re on a time crunch for bachelor parties. and since kevin doesn’t drink or anything, the idea of the “typical bachelor” party is out of question. kevin doesn’t care for a bachelor party for himself, anyway.

however, when andrew is added to a groupchat with the whole wedding party, he sends two texts. not to the group, but to allison. she’s the one handling it, anyway.

the first text is a link to elton john at madison square garden, the second is a text.

hamilton on broadway friday the 14th, concert 15th.

(ik the timelines don’t technically match up, but since this is all fictional who cares)

it’s perfect. allison checks with dalton to be sure, and he lights up. apparently kevin has gotten really into hamilton because duh it’s history, and elton john is one of his favorite artists, especially after dalton introduced him to “your song” in college.

dalton goes with him because they know kevin would want him there, unlike normal bachelor parties where you spend it without your fiancé.

as for dalton’s, he gets taken to florida (it’s only like a 5 hour drive i think but they could fly also) and his friends, who for the most part are straight besides emmie, a blazing proud lesbian, take him to gay bars on gay bars, and then go to star wars land in disney world for a day- kevin’s idea. dalton is very excited about this because in this ask dalton reveals he’s a star wars fan and says he’d like to go see it someday. they also get drunk in disney, don’t worry.

they both have good sized wedding parties. for dalton, it’s carmen, bella, and his best friends jenna, reid, and sam.

for kevin, it’s andrew, neil, and dan. if anyone asked kevin in college if he’d thought she would be in his wedding party- or even if they’d leave college being friends, he would have said no, but he was stupid to think the foxes would ever lose touch. if anything, he got closer.

he’s also gotten closer than he ever would have probably wished to allison. there’s something to be said for the both of them having good taste. all it took was one trip of clothes shopping for a banquet for them to realize they’d had a lot more in common.

the only reason they never realized it was because they’ve both got the same level of stubbornness.

which is why she somehow ends up being asked to be in his wedding party, too.

kevin isn’t worried about asking neil. a little about andrew, but he can always get neil to talk him into it. he stops them both from leaving after practice, one day. “will you be my groomsmen? both of you?”

neil really doesn’t look surprised. not even phased. he’d been matt’s best man, after all. “yeah, sure.”

kevin looks to andrew, who hasn’t moved a muscle.

when he does, it’s to swing his bag around his shoulder. "no speeches.” and before he gets to the door. “and no one’s wrapping their arm around mine down the aisle.” and that’s more than okay with kevin. he doesn’t really want them speaking, anyway.

and then there’s dan and allison. he isn’t worried about them, so all he does is text them and they agree.

there’s no more than 70 people there. the actual ceremony only about 30. it’s not big by any means, but they didn’t want it big anyway. plus, kevin doesn’t have a whole group of family to invite like dalton does in the first place. he doesn’t mind, though, because he’s grown to consider dalton’s family his own.

kevin doesn’t get walked down the aisle. he never saw himself doing that with a woman before he realized he was bi and could potentially marry a man, so he’s never cared for it.

wymack, however, officiates the wedding. he’s very proud of it, too. he never seems to show nerves, and he doesn’t let kevin know, but this is something that causes him great stress. he can’t fuck it up.

he doesn’t, of course.

he’s standing beside kevin when dalton gets walked down the aisle by his mother, and kevin told himself he wouldn’t get emotional.

he lets out a breath and a soft laugh, then looks up at the ceiling to blink away the sudden wetness in his eyes.

when anne hands him off, she kisses kevin on the cheek and whispers. “all yours now, love.”

kevin wants to kiss dalton so bad. so so bad. but he has to wait. instead he gives him a wink and takes his hands. he expects them to be a tiny bit sweaty like they sometimes are when he gets nervous, but they’re not. dalton’s grip is firm, and the only thing kevin can see on him is glee.

kevin feels he barely can pay attention to the words his father is saying until it’s time for the vows. he’s first. he takes a deep breath.pays attention to what his father is saying, too busy staring at his fiancé. until they get to the vows, that is.

kevin is first, and his heart has never beat this fast. he memorized his vows, but just in case, he unfolds the paper from his pocket and takes the microphone. “i’ve made plenty of bad decisions in my life. going to the club the night before a game, trying to fix the kitchen sink by myself.” he smiles when dalton laughs at the memory. “d, i knew from the moment i told you about my demons and you stayed, that choosing you was the best decision i’ve made in my entire life. your are the strength i didn't know i needed, and the joy that i didn't know i lacked.” dalton mouths i love you. “thank you, for supporting and loving me unconditionally, i know i haven’t always made it easy.”

dalton gives the slightest shake of his head at that one. loving kevin comes as easy as breathing.

“thank you for showing me how to accept myself, and showing me what it’s like to find peace, to know what it’s like to feel wanted and loved. thank you for helping me to better myself as a man and a partner. you make me a better person in every single way, and i promise to put it all to use and give back every single day of our lives. i promise to love you through every hardship, to love you for who you are and who you are yet to become. i promise to support and help you in every new adventure, and to always be at your side. i promise to be patient and loyal. i promise to remember to show you every day how deeply i care for you. i promise to share my whole heart with you, to love you fiercely— for the rest of my life. as long as you’ll have me.”

dalton blinks away tears, and after taking a moment, he accepts the microphone. "kev,” he whispers, and takes a breath. kevin knows he has his written down, but he doesn’t take it out. he doesn’t need it. “i used to think that i just got lucky that some random hot kid asked me for help with his homework.” kevin grins.

“but i’ve realized now that the universe put you in front of me for a reason. you have filled my life with happiness and have given me a sense of peace that i’ve never known. you are my best friend, my biggest supporter, and the best co-pilot in life that i could’ve ever wished for.” he smiles. “today marks the start to the rest of our lives, whether we’re ready or not. i will not take our time together for granted. and because words can’t do it, i promise to show you, for the rest of my life, how much i love you. i promise to encourage you to follow your dreams. to support you through any of life’s obstacles. i promise to make you laugh when you’re taking yourself too seriously. i promise to hold your hand through the good and the bad, to keep you afloat when you feel you’re drowning. i promise to share the weight on your shoulders like it’s my own.”

a tear drops from kevin’s eye, and dalton reaches to gently wipe it with his thumb before grabbing his hand. “i promise to never stop making up my own lyrics to songs i don’t know. although, i know you wish i would. i promise to look back on our lives when we’re old and gray and have no regrets. i promise, from this day forward, kevin day, that you will never walk alone.” he lowers the microphone, whispering. “as long as you’ll have me.”

it’s a very emotional ceremony, that’s for sure, but they’re grinning by the time the rings go on, and dalton barely holds back from jumping kevin before he can say, “you may now kiss.”

kevin has his arms around dalton’s waist and dalton’s hands on his cheek and the back of his neck, and they’re both smiling into the kiss less than two seconds in. but kevin doesn’t care. dalton’s laugh is the best thing he’s ever heard and he relishes in it as he crushes him in a hug before tearing back down the aisle.

their first dance is to “your song” by elton john. is it probably overused? sure, but kevin isn’t into music enough to know or care about that. it’s the song that

it’s always been dalton’s go to song to sing in the car, and whenever he does he tends to just kind of grab onto kevin’s hand while he sings. he’s no harry styles but he can hold a tune just fine.

it then turned into a song kevin listened to on bus or plane rides, and when he entered the pros dalton started sending him voice memos on text of him singing like two lines from the song before his every flight.

kevin also played it in the car back to the cabin after he proposed.

it’s their song.

dalton pulls kevin to him for the first dance, with one hand holding kevin’s and the other pressed against the small of his back. and dalton’s singing along just loud enough for kevin to hear. it makes him smile at his dork of a husband, and halfway through the song kevin lays his head on dalton’s shoulder and slides his arms around his neck. he closes his eyes and ever so quietly sings along.

dalton kisses the side of his head and wraps his arms around kevin’s waist.

when the song is coming to an end, dalton kisses kevin and smiles as he sings the last lines to him. “how wonderful life is while you’re in the world”

kevin smiles. “sweetheart,” he whispers.

but then the song ends, and kevin leans back against their table as dalton takes the floor with anne for the mother son dance. he sends a thought up to kayleigh.

“i’m incredibly proud of you.” it’s abby at his side, sliding her arm around his waist. she kisses his cheek. “i know you know this already, that you foxes are family to us. but... you have always been like a son to me. and you always will, even if not by blood.”

kevin is looking at his feet, but eventually he meets her gaze. “you’re the closest thing i’ve ever had to a mother.” he squeezes her hand, and, “do you want to do the dance with me?” he doesn’t know how he hadn’t thought of it before.

abby’s a little teary, but nods.

dan rests her head on wymack’s shoulder. “he’s done good.”

wymack nods. he doesn’t respond, because he’s got… something… stuck in his throat. not emotions, definitely not emotions.

kevin smears cake all over dalton’s lips when they cut the cake, and in return he presses a messy kiss to his cheek. it’s sickenly sweet. the whole thing is, especially compared to the kevin day that some people know, and the one they see on television.

i can’t think of other things i may have missed, but please please let me know if there is anything else you guys want more insight on, or prompts regarding these!

oh yeah, kevin throws one of the bridesmaids little bouquets as a joke.

and carmen catches it.

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entropy-game-dev · 3 years

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Balancing (Part 1) - Overall considerations

In this blog, I’d like to share with you guys some rules of thumb/tips/methodology that I’ve picked up over the course of my first round of inputting robot/move/part data into my various databases. I’ve had this first pass finished for some time now, and I wanted to write up what I’ve found while it’s still somewhat fresh in my mind.

Just as a recap, here’s what I was looking at for each category:

Robots: Stats, elemental affinities, moves, part slots, rewards, recruit conditions

Moves: Element(s) Costs, damage, targeting, secondary effects, status effects

Parts: Stats, elemental affinities, moves, power cost

All these aspects needed to be balanced against one another, and as you can see, there are a lot of things to take into account! I initially found this task quite overwhelming, but began to tackle it one bit at a time.

Primarily, I wanted my robots, moves, and parts to be memorable! My favourite RPGs have really really strong enemy identities, primarily a function of their affinities (if hitting weaknesses was a big part of the battle system), and their moveset. When you have enemies that can seriously affect your action economy by absorbing, reflecting, or take double/triple damage from a particular attack, it really mixes up how you approach any one encounter.

Even parts and moves can be memorable! The Final Fantasy games (I’m thinking mainly of 9 and Tactics Advance here) where equipment grants skills always made it super fun to pick up new gear. Similarly, moves with varying ranges, costs, and conditional effects (such as in Dofus, Wakfu, and Super Robot Wars), made them feel really good to use! Nothing annoys me more than having multiple spells be just copy-pasted with differing elements attached (Final Fantasy and SMT/Persona suffer from this greatly).

Thematic integrity - absolutely no compromises!

I really strugged to come up with the right word here - organic, ludonarrative harmony, thematic, flavor were all considerations - but the exact word doesn't really matter. My main consideration when designing content was that it absolutely MUST make narrative and mechanical sense in-universe. At a basic level, robots built for attacking would have strong offensive stats, and sturdy robots would have strong defensive stats.

Moving deeper, I also wanted their elemental resistances to tell a story. The rubbery-looking robot would reflect kinetic attacks, and a robot with a large generator would be charged by electomagnetive waves. A primitive communications device might act as a vulnerability point that spreads data damage to allies, and a robot made of particularly volatile materials would be sensitive to temporal damage. The same goes for their moves, I mean, if you have a robot that has a move that folds space in on itself, it better have a good reason for doing so!

So when I say no compromise, I mean it! If it meant the robot would be overly hard or easy due to an odd distribution of strengths, weaknesses, or stats, that's just how things have to be. Of course, I made sure that each unit has at the very minimum, one element it was weak to. A physically sturdy unit might have outdated architecture, making it vulnerable to data attacks, or a precisely calibrated timekeeper might be heavily disrupted by precise particle damage.

So I've spoken about this "organic" design moving beyond the specified bounds of balance, but I haven't yet defined what those bounds should be! Let’s have a look at that graph at the top of the blog. There are two axes, with easy/hard on the vertical and variable/homogenized on the horizontal. This represents my two primary considerations when designing interesting and challenging content, and the two areas show off my target zone (purple area) and how willing I am to stray from this (the red area). Importantly, I don't want EVERY enemy to land in the center of this purple zone, but rather, the optimal is to fill the purple zone as much as possible with different, interesting units, some hard, some easy!

The easy-hard axis

The vertical axis is simple to understand - being an indicator of how easy or hard a player would find a particular enemy at the appropriate level, or how much brain power should go into using a particular part or move. Enemies are intuitively easy to understand - challenging amounts of stats, a good spread of resists, interesting moves... basically nothing that'll stop the enemy from appropriately challenging the player.

For parts/moves, “hard” in this case represents those that were difficult but rewarding to use. For example, moves generally have costs that make the prohibitive to spam, and targeting ranges that need to be maximized to get the most use out of them. Parts too followed the same logic, both having bonuses and detriments to stats and affinities + a power cost such that you can’t just equip everything you find without purpose.

I believe that enemies/moves/parts that are harder to fight against/use will most likely more memorable and make for an overall better experience, and this is reflected in my graph's shadings. This is because you'll have to think more carefully and change up your tactics when dealing with them. I feel like this is more reflective of a harsher and more dangerous universe. Especially for someone coming from the past, it wouldn't make sense that some human is easily able to subdue ultra-advanced war machines! That’s not to say that there won’t be easy robots to fight, because fighting only hard things eventually becomes a slog, but on average I aim to make encounters feel dangerous.

The variable-homogenized axis

This one’s a bit tougher to conceptualise, but to me, this represents how much variance something could have relative to the average. An extremely homogenized unit might have 5′s in all stats, and no affinities. Completely run-of-the-mill. On the other hand, a unit that would be considered highly variable would have all its stats at extremes (~1s and ~10s) and no neutral element affinities - you’d always be hitting a strength or weakness no matter what element was used.

Parts and moves are also subject to balancing on this axis. A more "variable" move would have more of it's databases boxes ticked - it might have hp, energy, AND ammo costs, AND do multiple elemental damage, AND have a weird targeting mechanic, AND have an extra effect attached to the move, AND also apply a status effect... that's a lot of "and"s! Same story for parts, parts would be giving bonuses/negatives to almost all stats and resistances, as well as enable usage of several moves. Here, part and move variability is tied somewhat to how easy/hard they are to use.

Overall I wanted content that does require some thought into their pros and cons both inside and outside of battle, but not so much that the player gets overloaded and burnt out due to taking minutes assessing every possible move/target. As a result, there'll naturally be some easier to use moves and parts as well, especially earlier on!

In summary

I didn't want enemies to have too much OR too little going on. They had to be in the realm of "oh no, not this thing - I have to remember it gets healed by chemical damage and can dish out some nasty aoe attacks! Good thing it's slow!" Parts and moves had to have some benefit to using them, and not have any strictly better counterpart. This blog is getting super long so I'm breaking into two parts, with part 2 focusing on some of the tips and tricks I used to help make sure things were kept within reasonable limits.

#game #videogame #devblog #gamedev #scifi #spacegame #dungeon crawler #rpg #entropy #gamemaker #programming #pixel art #robot #indiedev

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aliveandfullofjoy · 3 years

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It’s the first day of 2021, which calls (yet again!) for my ten favorite new-to-me movies I watched in 2020!

The rules are the same as always: no movies from this past year (2020) or the year before (2019). Every other year is free game.

All ten of these movies are fascinating and beautiful and well worth your time, so consider this a strong endorsement for all of them. I’ve also included ways to watch all of the films (as of this writing, Jan. 1, 2021).

01. Two for the Road (dir. Stanley Donen, 1967; USA) Donen takes the ideas of romantic cinema and celebrates it while injecting a healthy dose of painful reality. He chooses two of the English language's most attractive movie stars, Albert Finney (in full himbo mode!) and Audrey Hepburn, and follows their ten-year marriage as seen on their various road trips across Europe. It's a memory piece more than anything else, but the arc of their relationship is clear and their palpable connection burns through the screen. These are two beautiful, intelligent adults who love each other deeply, who are still physically attracted to each other, who are able to hurl verbal jabs and insults at each other with the best of them. Finney is magnificent, but Hepburn sort of steals the show. In what is probably her finest onscreen performance, she gets to grow from a virginal bride to a fully fleshed out adult, living beautifully in different shades of sexy and goofy and bitter. They make a screen couple for the ages. The script is funny without losing its honesty, it's tragic without leaning too far into artifice, it's romantic without being treacly. It's a remarkable balancing act and makes for a masterpiece. (Two for the Road is available to rent online or viewed at this link.)

02. Stop Making Sense (dir. Jonathan Demme, 1984; USA) Stop Making Sense feels like a miracle. It hints at a narrative arc, but that part is unimportant. It’s a live performance recorded and packaged specifically for consumption as a film. In its brief runtime, it becomes a living, breathing, sweating testament to David Byrne’s skill as a performer, as a songwriter, as a storyteller, and to the remarkable talents of everyone in Talking Heads. It’s a breathtakingly joyous experience. I can’t remember the last time I watched a recording of a live performance that captured the same brand of energy, of buoyancy, that you feel as you’re leaving a great communal experience. This is a masterpiece that proclaims as loudly as possible that there is no joy greater than making art with people you love. (Stop Making Sense is currently streaming on Amazon Prime.)

03. Scattered Clouds (dir. Mikio Naruse, 1967; Japan) Filled to the brim with unspoken turmoil and emotional devastation, Naruse's final film chronicles the rough terrain of a relationship between a widow and the man responsible for her husband's death. Spanning years and exploring just how deeply these wounds can go, much of the Scattered Cloud’s success rests on the performances from Yuzo Kayama and Yoko Tsukasa. Kayama is a handsome, likable screen presence who beautifully lives in his own cloud of grief. Tsukasa gets a bit more to chew on, as this really is her story: her arc and her inability to move forward, despite the best intentions, is one of the film's most lasting ideas. Brutally sad but incredibly beautiful. The work of a master filmmaker. (Scattered Clouds is currently streaming on the Criterion Channel.)

04. L’Atalante (dir. Jean Vigo, 1934; France) My only regret with L’Atalante is that I didn’t see it sooner. The final (and only feature-length) film from Jean Vigo before his untimely death at 29, this film is a technical marvel and a humanist miracle. Featuring spirited performances from Dita Parlo, Jean Dasté, and the great character actor Michel Simon, and intoxicating dreamlike imagery, as well as a relentlessly romantic score from Maurice Jaubert, this film looks and feels like no other film from its era. (L’Atalante is currently streaming on the Criterion Channel.)

05. Daisies (dir. Věra Chytilová, 1966; Czechoslovakia) Věra Chytilová's iconic masterpiece of anarchic cinema more than lives up to its reputation. Operating on its own chaotic wavelength, Daisies follows the exploits of Marie I (Jitka Cerhová) and Marie II (Ivana Karbanová) who seek to spoil themselves after realizing how spoiled the world is. They begin to live extravagantly and rip off older men and cause general mischief. Over less than 80 minutes, Daisies upends a whole slew of cultural norms. Beautiful, ambiguous, funny, cynical, and truly visionary. (Daisies is currently streaming on the Criterion Channel and HBO Max.)

06. The Hero (dir. Satyajit Ray, 1966; India) The Hero sort of feels like Satyajit Ray's answer to 8½ in its meditation of fame and regret. Uttam Kumar is fantastic as Arindam Mukherjee, a superstar actor who works through his career and his loss of values in an interview with a reporter played by Sharmila Tagore, who is also fantastic. Under Ray's sleek direction, gracefully opening up the world of the train, and with his intelligent and human script, the cast uniformly sinks their teeth into this film. Kumar is the MVP out of necessity -- without him, the whole film would fall apart -- but the whole ensemble is remarkable, peppering the background of the train scenes and in Arindam's flashbacks. This also has one of the all-time great nightmare sequences. Easily one of the master director’s best films. (The Hero is currently streaming on the Criterion Channel.)

07. Malcolm X (dir. Spike Lee, 1992; USA) Malcolm X is a truly massive film housing an even bigger performance from the great Denzel Washington. Tracing Malcolm X’s life and career while juggling numerous tones and visual styles and spanning across decades and continents, this is surely Spike Lee’s most ambitious film up to this point in his career. Washington is onscreen for virtually all of its long runtime, from the early exuberant days before his imprisonment all the way up to that fateful day in the Audubon Ballroom, and he is, of course, tremendous. All that classic Denzel charisma and magnetism is on full display, whether in his impassioned speeches or in his more intimate scenes. Lee’s direction is top notch, making this full story about a life with an incalculably profound impact feel richly and deeply intimate. This is one of the essential American epics. (Malcolm X is available to rent online.)

08. Beau Travail (dir. Claire Denis, 1999; France) Beau Travail’s place in the modern canon of world cinema is assured, and Denis is rightfully seen as a master, but it really can’t be overstated just how much of a gem this film is. Pepper with sparse dialogue (though always packed with meaning), the film lives in one of two modes: muscular, suntanned men doing slow, precise choreographed exercises in the heat of the day and those same muscular men dancing and gyrating with attractive young women in some ethereal nightclub. Between these poles lies Denis’ almost cosmic meditation on masculine ego, homoerotic obsession, and regret. A fascinating, enigmatic, devastating beauty. (Beau Travail is currently streaming on the Criterion Channel.)

09. Only Angels Have Wings (dir. Howard Hawks, 1939; USA) Only Angels Have Wings might be Howard Hawks' crowning directorial achievement. The aerial work, the rainy nights, the beautiful atmosphere of the bars, the palpable camaraderie of the characters, the tragic loss of life and yet the persistence to move forward. Cary Grant leads a terrific cast, including a quietly moving Richard Barthelmess and a rarely-more-likable Thomas Mitchell, and his chemistry with both Jean Arthur (the most charming) and Rita Hayworth is a joy to watch. This film seems to dabble in multiple genres at once, subverting the cliches of the Hollywood formula while still embracing the melodrama and the artifice within. In that way, the film feels very strange, but if the viewer lets themselves be carried along with Hawks' unique rhythm, the reward is one of the most fascinating and exciting films in Hollywood's fabled 1939 output. (Only Angels Have Wings is available to rent online or viewed at this link.)

10. Closely Watched Trains (dir. Jiří Menzel, 1966; Czechoslovakia) Between the precise composition of the shots and the young narrator-protagonist, Closely Watched Trains feels like a spiritual predecessor to Wes Anderson's work. This comparison extends to the thematic content of the film as well, as the story of a young man coming-of-age against the backdrop of the Nazi regime is definitely cut from the same cloth as The Grand Budapest Hotel. Lucky for me, I love Anderson's work, and Grand Budapest is my favorite of his, so Menzel's stylistic flourishes immediately endeared me to the film.Menzel maintains a skillful tonal balancing act throughout Closely Watched Trains. Even under the wry, almost self-deprecating humor, the film never loses track of preciousness of life and the horrific tragedy of war. Beautiful cinematography, strong performances across the board, a memorable score, and a clever script make this a gem of the Czech New Wave and a moving, delightful, and accessible coming-of-age tale. (Closely Watched Trains is currently streaming on the Criterion Channel.)

Honorable mentions (in alphabetical order): Ace in the Hole (Billy Wilder, 1951), The Band’s Visit (Eran Kolirin, 2007), But I’m a Cheerleader (Jamie Babbit, 1999), Carnival of Souls (Herk Harvey, 1962), A Cottage on Dartmoor (Anthony Asquith, 1929), Crossing Delancey (Joan Micklin Silver, 1988), Divorce Italian Style (Pietro Germi, 1961); Eat Drink Man Woman (Ang Lee, 1994), Fireworks (Kenneth Anger, 1947), The Freshman (Fred C. Newmeyer & Sam Taylor, 1925), The Hitch-Hiker (Ida Lupino, 1953), Kuroneko (Kaneto Shindo, 1968), Le Bonheur (Agnès Varda, 1965), Le Notti Bianche (Luchino Visconti, 1957), Like Father, Like Son (Hirokazu Kore-eda, 2013), Local Hero (Bill Forsyth, 1983), Love & Basketball (Gina Prince-Bythewood, 2000), Mad Max 2: The Road Warrior (George Miller, 1981), Monsoon Wedding (Mira Nair, 2001), One Sings, the Other Doesn’t (Agnès Varda, 1977), Pennies from Heaven (Herbert Ross, 1981), Pickup on South Street (Samuel Fuller, 1953), Rushmore (Wes Anderson, 1998), Seven Samurai (Akira Kurosawa, 1954), Sleepless in Seattle (Nora Ephron, 1993), Symbiopsychotaxiplasm: Take One (William Greaves, 1968), Tea and Sympathy (Vincente Minnelli, 1956), They Shoot Horses, Don’t They? (Sydney Pollack, 1969), Tomboy (Céline Sciamma, 2011), Wendy & Lucy (Kelly Reichardt, 2008), Within Our Gates (Oscar Micheaux, 1920), Whisper of the Heart (Yoshifumi Kondo, 1995), and Who Framed Roger Rabbit (Robert Zemeckis, 1988).

And some miscellaneous viewing stats:

First movie watched in 2020: A Fantastic Woman (Sebastián Lelio, 2017)

Final movie watched in 2020: Holiday (George Cukor, 1938)

Worst movie watched: The Notebook (Nick Cassavetes, 2004)

Oldest movie watched: Ten films by the Lumière Brothers (Louis Lumière, 1895)

Longest movie watched: Seven Samurai (Akira Kurosawa, 1954; 207 minutes)

Month with most amount of movies watched: December (58 movies, including shorts)

Month with least amount of movies watched: February (11 movies) (pre-COVID, naturally)

First movie from 2020 seen: Birds of Prey (Cathy Yan, 2020)

Total movies watched: 455

#sometimes elliott watches movies #year in review #two for the road #stop making sense #scattered clouds #l'atalante #daisies #the hero #malcolm x #beau travail #only angels have wings #closely watched trains

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supernatural-jackles · 4 years

Text

The Man on the Side of the Road - Part 12

Title: The Man on the Side of the Road - Part 12

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 3,409

Warnings: Minor Angst, FLUFF, Smut, Bit of Self Hate, FLUFF!

Summary: Driving down the road, going well over the speed limit. You come across a man walking in the opposite direction with a bouquet of flowers in his hands. His head cast down as he walked. Your gut instinct is telling you to check on this man, no matter what your parents told you growing up. Little did you know just how much this would change your life.

The Man on the Side of the Road - Masterlist

A/N: Here ya go!!! Happy Easter!! Happy Sunday! Happy Reading! As always, your response is what feeds me, so please share your thoughts! Okay bye!

Your body began to stir just a little. Not enough for you to fully open your eyes, but enough to know you aren’t fully sleeping anymore. You relaxed into the mattress a little more, enjoying the way the memory foam melted and moulded under your body. It was so good to be home and in your own bed. It felt so damn good to be able to relax.

Then it hit you.

Last night with Dean. Better yet, last night having sex with Dean in this very bed. You swallowed hard. Not wanting to make any sudden movements in case you work him up in the process. You slept with him. You had sex with your best friend; your roommate. You potentially ruined everything with him by doing that. Yeah you wanted it, but you slept with him when you knew you shouldn’t have.

You opened your eyes, taking a deep breath before glancing over at the other side of the bed. It was empty. You swore, your heart sank to your stomach. You reached over, feeling that the sheets were cold, meaning he was out of bed awhile ago. God, what if your friendship was over? What if sex destroyed everything you had?

You threw the comforter back, rolling out of bed. You soon realized you were completely naked still. Naked and sore from the night before. You found his flannel shirt on the floor, and you wondered if it would be cliche if you were to put it on, or if you should grab one of your robes from the closet. His shirt definitely said more than friendship, which was what you wanted. Your robe said it was fun but it should never happen again.

You decided to put on his shirt to see what would happen.

You tiptoed out of the room, wanting to move quietly into the kitchen. You could hear the sounds of sizzling from where you were. The second you could see the kitchen, your eyes fell to Dean’s very exposed back, standing by the stove. The only article of clothing on his body was a pair of black boxers.

“H-hi,” you stuttered. Fuck, why did you have to stutter?

“Mornin’,” he greeted you. “Hope you’re feeling crispy bacon.”

“Always,” you nodded, circling around the counter. You hopped on the one behind him, glancing at his muscular back. He flexed as he flipped the bacon. The stuff that was done was set on a plate to the side.

“I’ll get some eggs going in a minute,” he told you.

“Dean,” you breathed out. “Are we going to talk about last night?”

He was silent for a moment. You watched as he moved the bacon from the pan over to the plate. He turned around, facing you with a smile playing on his lips. He walked over to you, placing one hand on each side of your body.

“You look good in my shirt,” he smiled.

“Dean,” you grinned, casting your head down.

“Last night was fun,” he started, “But if I’m being honest with you. I couldn’t hold myself back yesterday. I shouldn’t have pushed you as far as I did. This friendship means the world to me, and I don’t want anything to ruin that, including us sleeping together yesterday. Us kissing is one thing, but us doing that is a whole other ball game.”

“Just a one time thing?” you questioned. Truth be told, you figured it was going to go this way. It was probably for the best. You didn’t want to lose him just as much as he didn’t want to lose you.

“One time thing,” he nodded. You glanced up at him, your eyes meeting his gorgeous green orbs. The ones you fell for. You couldn’t help but smile at him. He was too cute to resist. He leaned forward, brushing his soft lips over yours.

“Dean,” you giggled.

“I- I’m trying to be good, but you’re sitting here in my shirt, looking hot as hell. I don’t know if - fuck.”

His hands were on you once more, pulling you off the counter, and flush against him. He carried you back through the house, straight to your bedroom. You had no idea what you were doing with him. You said one thing and things went the other direction within seconds. You wanted him, and you always would want him. Both physically and emotionally. But you had a friendship to think about. You couldn’t keep taking him to bed like this and playing with him the way you were. You either needed to be together or just friends. There couldn’t be this inbetween.

He broke from the kiss as soon as your back hit the mattress once more. His body came down on top of yours, his lips attaching themselves to your neck. You were a fucking goner. Every sense of self control was gone after that. The way his lips moved on your skin brought goosebumps. You were screwed. Literally screwed.

“Dean,” you panted, rutting yourself against the growing bulge in his boxers.

“Shit,” he breathed out into your neck. He pulled away, reaching over towards the side table. “You want to do this?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “One time thing.”

He grabbed the box of condoms, taking one of them out of the package before sitting back on his calves. He shoved his boxers down over his cock, his erection standing tall, ready for you. You smiled, knowing what kind of affect you had on him. He wanted you. He found you sexy. It was empowering to know that.

His boxers were thrown off, hitting the floor. His fingers reached for the buttons of his flannel shirt. You watched as he slowly unbuttoned it, revealing more and more of you as he did. You could feel his eyes on you, watching you to see if there was any hesitation.

He opened up the condom, taking the rubber in his hand before rolling it down his thick length. You knew you were more than ready to take him once more, and quite frankly, you couldn’t wait for him to get inside you. You had never been like this with someone. You had never felt this needy. Sex was a chore before you met Dean. This? This was something you could do all day with him and never grow tired of it.

“You ready for me?” he smirked, reaching his hand down between your legs, his index finger brushing through your folds. “Definitely.”

“Dean,” you whined, hoping he would get the message and fuck you already. “Please.”

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he smiled. He shifted forward, taking his length in his hand to help line himself up. You spread your legs a little wider, making room for him to move between them. He pushed the tip of his cock in your entrance, slowly and carefully. Your hands reached around his shoulders, pulling him closer to you. He filled you up, inch by inch until he was fully seated inside you. His lips meeting yours in a sweet kiss.

“Fuck,” you muttered against his lips.

“You okay?” he asked you.

“Yeah. Please move,” you whispered before rolling your hips against him to get him started. His eyes clamped shut, allowing himself to feel you completely this time.

He pulled himself away from you, almost taking himself completely out of you before pushing back in at a quicker pace. He felt so fucking good inside of you. Stretching you and brushing against all the places you wanted him to. His arms rested on either side of your head, caging you in this time as his lips moved in a lazy sync with yours. You wanted to memorize every inch of skin on his body, knowing full well this was the last time. You couldn’t keep playing the game you were. It was fun, having someone touch your body and appreciate you for everything you were, but you wanted more. You wanted him to want all of you all the time.

“Shit, you feel so damn good,” he muttered, pecking along your jaw to head straight for your neck. He knew exactly what to do to you, and when to do it. Would it be so bad to tell him you wanted more after this? You were getting better, and so was he. That shouldn’t be a crime.

“You’re perfect,” you muttered, turning your head to the side to grant him more access to the side of your neck. His tongue darted across your skin, creating goosebumps all over you once more. Your hands slipped around his shoulders, moving straight for his chest to feel him. He was so fucking perfect, and that was the only way you could describe him.

“So far from it, sweetheart,” he let out a chuckle before kissing you once more.

His thrusts picked up and his hands moved from your head to your hips, his thumb tracing over your hip bone. You loved the way he touched you. So soft and gentle; like you were going to break if he were to hold you any tighter.

A surge of confidence spread through you as you rolled your hips in time with his. Your hands on his chest pushed him to the side, wanting to have your way with him. He got the message instantly, rolling to the empty side of the bed, taking you with him. His cock staying seated inside you the entire time. You rested your hands on his shoulders, using that as leverage to help you move on his impressive length with a little more ease. It was a sight to see him beneath you, his eyes hooded with lust the way they were. Dark and aware. His rough, calloused hands on your hips, helping lift off of him as you moved together.

“Fuck Y/N, you’re hot as hell,” he growled.

You tried to pick up the pace as best as you could, Dean moving with you. He sat up, rocking you in his lap as you grinded against him. You could feel the coil in your abdomen growing tighter and tighter as you rubbed against one another. His lips captured with yours in a breathy kiss that lasted only a second or two. He was coated in a thin layer of sweat, his breathing growing irregular. You knew he was damn close.

“Dean! Fuck, Dean, I’m-”

“Right behind you,” he cried out, “Come for me sweetheart.”

His cock pushed against your sweet spot, over and over again. Your arms clung around him, squeezing him in as close as possible to you. Your walls wrapped around him, trying to hold him in place as your orgasm bolted through you. Your eyes slammed shut as you dug your fingers into the flesh of his back once more, desperate to hold onto something to ground you.

“Fuck sweetheart, so sexy when you come undone,” he growled, rocking his hips into yours to help you through your orgasm. One of his hands reached down between your bodies, stroking your clit to help you ride it out even longer. Your walls were spasming around him. Your breathing was ragged. How was he lasting this long?

“Fuck,” he moaned, bucking against you. You could feel his cock twitching inside you. His hot come filling the condom as he shifted inside you. You tried your hardest to help him ride it out for all he was worth. You were oversensitive at best, but you wanted him to feel just as good as he made you feel.

When he was done, you released him, falling backwards onto the bed. Your body was shaking from the entire thing, and not to mention sore. It had been so long since you had gone at it, and now that it had happened not once but twice. You were going to be feeling it for days.

You lay there for a few minutes, trying to catch your breath and calm down from it. It was damn perfect, and it sucked that it was over. You worked well together and you had since you met him all those months ago. You liked being with him and for once, you actually felt like you could be with someone and not feel inadequate. You loved this man, and there was no denying it. He was your best friend and he understood you better than anyone else. You had a connection before you slept together. There was potential for something great between the two of you.

“You okay?” he asked. You nodded your head, bringing your arms up over your eyes. You felt the bed shift beneath you, but you never bothered to look. You figured he was going to get rid of the condom before coming back over to you. It didn’t bother you now that it was over that you were completely naked and that he was seeing you like this. You felt something warm come up to your centre and you soon realized he was cleaning you up like the kind guy he was. You were lucky to have him.

“Dean,” you muttered, praying he didn’t stray too far from you.

“Hmm?” he mumbled.

“What are we doing?” you questioned. “We say one thing, and then it goes the opposite direction thirty seconds later. We say one time thing and then it happens again. I’m getting whiplash.”

“I know, and that’s my fault. I’m the one doing it, not you,” he sighed.

“I’m not doing anything to stop you either here,” you pointed out. “I just want to know if this is something you want, or if it was just two friends having fun. That’s all.”

“Uh,” he paused, taking a deep breath. The bed dipped next to you, causing you to take your arms away from your eyes. “You’re beautiful, Y/N. In more ways than one. I want to be able to say that this is just two friends having fun, but it’s not to me. I don’t want this to ruin our friendship. It means a shit ton to me, but after this, I can’t hide the fact that I fell for the girl who changed my life. I get it if you need some space to-”

“Dean,” you cut him off. You sat up on the bed, taking a deep breath. You could see that he was nervous by how stiff his shoulders were. He was sitting naked and vulnerable on your bed, waiting for you to give him the worst news. “Are we sure we’re ready to take this step forward? Like really ready to be doing this?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, his voice going a little higher than normal. “I don’t think I’ll ever know. All I do know is that I feel complete when I’m with you.”

“Yeah?” you breathed out.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “You’re the girl I wanted to ask out, but didn’t know if I should. Sam told me to take a risk with you. This isn’t exactly how I wanted things to go.”

“Nothing ever goes as planned,” you chuckled. “If we’re doing this, I don’t want anything to change between us. I don’t want to lose what we already had.”

“I don’t either,” he admitted. “Best friends who kiss and have sex?”

“Think we can handle that?” you questioned.

“We’ll do what we always do. Take it day by day,” he suggested.

“Okay,” you nodded. “I can get on board with that.”

“You sure?” he cocked his eyebrow.

“More than sure. I don’t think I can go back to being friends after last night, and this morning. I didn’t think I was the one you wanted to ask out. I’ve had feelings for you for a little while now, I just - I never wanted to do anything about them because of how things are between us. The last thing I wanted was to ruin our friendship because I fell for my best friend.”

“I’m glad we’re on the same page,” he smiled softly, reaching his hand over to yours. His thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I’m glad I don’t have to hide it anymore.”

“Me too,” you nodded. “Especially now that I know how good you are in bed.”

He let out a laugh, ducking his head down. It meant everything to you to hear that laugh after everything he’s been through. It had always been your goal to make him smile once a day. “I know the feeling.”

You launched yourself at him, throwing your arms around his neck as you tackled him to the bed. He let out another laugh as you took him down. His hands slipped around your back, pulling you tightly to him. You pressed a soft kiss to his lips, giving him a warm smile as you pulled away. “We should really put some clothes on and eat something.”

“Yeah, we really should,” he grinned. “The bacon is definitely cold.”

“We’ll reheat it. It’s fine,” you assured him. “I’ll help you make some eggs. We’ll pull the toaster out and make some toast.”

“Sounds like a good plan,” he nodded in agreement. “I’m starving.”

“Me too,” you whispered, pecking his lips once more.

You rolled off of him and onto the mattress before daring to stand up. You carefully made your way over to your dresser, opening up your panty draw, grabbing a pair of boyshorts. You figured that his shirt would work too. After all, you were more than friends now. You could steal his clothes without it looking weird. You could do a lot of things with him now that you knew how he felt about you. Sleeping with him had to be one of the best decisions you’ve made. Who knew that you would have ended up with the man you saved?

“You look good in my shirt,” he smirked.

“Thank you,” you smiled, glancing up at him. He stood in just his boxers, waiting for you to join him so you could head to the kitchen.

“Can’t believe that you actually like me back,” he chuckled, holding his arm out for you. You shook your head, stepping forward to him.

“I could say the same thing, Winchester.” You lead him out of the bedroom and back to the kitchen to get your first meal of the day. You released him so you could get started on your half of breakfast. He started beating the bacon before getting the coffee maker going. You placed some bread in the toaster, hoping on the counter next to it so you could watch Dean do his thing.

“You sure about this, Y/N?” He questioned, turning to face you. “About doing this?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Are you?”

“I just worry, you know. I’m not- I’m not perfect. I’m not even boyfriend material. I don’t know how to be someone’s boyfriend.”

“It’s okay,” you stated. “Remember who my ex was. Anything but that.”

“Haha, fair point,” he let out a laugh. “I just want to be good enough for you.”

“You are. On the days you don’t feel like you aren’t, I’m here to remind you that you are. Just like before. We’re on the next level of friendship.”

“I like the sound of that,” he smirked. “How can you see something good in someone like me? You found me on the side of the road bawling my eyes out. You know my worst thoughts. How do you want me?”

“Because it’s the same the other way around. No one has stuck by me the way you have. No one will ever look out for me the way you do. You protect me. You make me feel safe. It’s not going to be perfect. It never will be. But you and I make a good team. We have since the night we met. That isn’t going to change.”

“I’m sorry in advance for everything,” he joked.

“Day by day,” you reminded him.

“Day by day,” he confirmed. He took a step away from the stove, meeting you at the counter. His lips pressed to yours in a sweet, sincere kiss before he went back to what he was doing. You knew this was new to him, and it was going to take a lot of reassurance. It was going to be a lot of work, but you were more than okay with doing so when you knew he was going to have to do the same for you.

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

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