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neoculturetravesty · 3 years

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We met in online class - Part 4

Image taken from here. Originally had this image in mind but Tumblr won’t let me upload it.

Pairing: Renjun x Reader Genre: College AU, romance, fluff, angst, maybe humor???? Warnings: Strong language Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: Happy Easter to all who celebrate it!

It’s funny how quickly people form habits without really meaning to. You don’t realize you have a new favorite word till someone points out you’ve been using it so much. You don’t realize you’re addicted to caffeine till you get headaches from withdrawals. You don’t realize you can’t live without dessert till the sugar crash hits. And in the same way, Renjun didn’t realize he had gotten used to your company till he’s waiting outside your lecture hall with an almost expectant inclination to see you.

A lot of it had to do with who you were as a person. You had pretty much infiltrated Renjun’s life, even though he still kept you at an arm’s distance. One day, he had walked into the library and found you with Jaemin, while the two of you had your heads together over a laptop and a huge gift basket in the making on the table. Jaemin wasn’t the kind of person who invited a lot of new people into his life; so he must have really trusted you because it wasn’t the last time Renjun saw the two of you together.

But worse than Jaemin was Donghyuck. Renjun was pretty sure that since you’d asked him out, you had probably hung out more with Donghyuck than with him. Almost as if seeing Renjun was just an excuse for you to hang out with him, as you had often joked. It was as if the two of you were kindred spirits, long lost best friends who had finally found one another. Donghyuck would invite you everywhere, get up to no good with you in tow; and before Renjun knew it, the two of you were even planning parties together. Neither Donghyuck nor you needed Renjun as an excuse to hang out with one another anymore, and it amused him. A part of him wondered if Donghyuck was playing along to help his bigger cause. But his friend always looked so genuinely happy around you that any ulterior motive he might have seemed to have been forgotten.

“Why can’t the sun always be like this?” you said as you laid on the grass using your backpack as a pillow. Your hand was reaching out over your face, your fingers wiggling as you played with shadows.

While you soaked in the sun, Renjun chose to sit under the shade of a tree, sketching away in his book, completing his assignment before his next class.

“You wouldn’t appreciate it as much if it were always like this.” Renjun replies, not looking away from his work. He much preferred paint over charcoal, but he had to admit that the scratching sounds it made against the grains of paper--coupled with the chirping of birds and gentle ruffling of leaves around him--was really relaxing. As was your company.

“Hmm. But it’s still nice to see it without fine dust couture. I like seeing it fully in the nude.” you say, a soft, funny smile on your face while your eyelashes cast shadows on your cheeks.

“Pervert.” Renjun accuses, smiling as he drew. It just makes you laugh and lay sideways to face him. You prop up your head on your hand.

“I’m the sun, Huang Renjun. Now draw me like one of your French girls.” you say in a comical voice and Renjun actually laughs without reservation.

“Do you have any more classes?” he asks, fixing his black and gold rimmed glasses over his nose.

“Nope. I’m done for the day. Yeri’s supposed to pick me up, so I’m just waiting for her call.” you say, rolling onto your back once more, resuming your dance with the shadows.

Renjun hums a reply as he sketches, but really, he’s thinking that he hadn’t formally met Yeri. At least not yet. He had just had two very awkward run-ins with her the couple of times he had been to your apartment. Come to think of it, he hadn’t been to your place since that last time. And you had never been to his place at all.

It wasn’t on accident, though. All of it had been by Renjun’s really convoluted design. He had met a few of your friends on campus in the passing, sure. But you were more a part of his life that he was yours. That is exactly what Renjun had planned. Lately, however, that plan seemed to be fading away into the ether. Slowly but surely dispersing from memory till it was more or less abandoned.

Because Renjun did not realize that he had adopted you like a habit. Any time he saw a witty meme, he had to send it your way because you would text back with an equally witty reply that scratched Renjun’s intellectual itch. Any time Jisung would bring home a baguette, he would take a picture for you with a caption like ‘Francophile life going strong’. The two of you had even developed a silly game where you would look at different marketing taglines and wonder if it would still work to sell condoms.

‘Nike. Just do it.’ Renjun had once texted.

‘That is a low hanging fruit, Huang Renjun.’ you had replied.

‘Okay, true. But how about Imax: Thing big.’ he had texted back.

‘Hmm, almost but not quite. I need something stronger.’

‘BMW: Designed for driving pleasure.’ he had actually found himself scrolling through a long list of taglines while his assignment laid forgotten.

‘Oof. Now you’ve found the sweet spot. Keep going.’ Renjun had smiled at your reply and had found himself hurriedly looking for something better.

‘Geico: So easy, a caveman could do it.’

‘Mmm, didn’t think you were a kinky boy, Huang Renjun. Go on…”

Renjun had actually laughed out loud, making Jisung look up at him quizzically and replied ‘1010 Wins: you give us 22 minutes, we’ll give you the world.’

‘Yessss! Right there, right there!’

Renjun hadn’t even realized he was grinning wide and standing up from his desk, a list of taglines open both on his laptop and his phone while he scrolled to find the perfect response that would make you happy. ‘Rice Krispies: Snap! Crackle! Pop!’

‘So close, so close, I am almost there!’

‘Washington Post: Democracy dies in darkness.’

‘THAT’S IT, THAT DID IT, THAT HIT THE SPOT!’

Renjun had actually belly laughed at the entire conversation. He didn’t remember the last time he had laughed this way because even Jisung was looking at him with an amused smile, asking “What’s so funny?”

So yes, Renjun had adopted you like a habit. But it wasn’t just through text. When you weren’t the one waiting for him on campus with a couple of cups of coffee in hand, he found he would go looking for you. You would spend all your free time together, just like this. He would find himself missing you on days he didn’t get to see you. He found himself disappointed when you didn’t have time for him because you and Donghyuck were on a very important mission or you had to meet your friends or you had extra work that was demanding your attention. You had just inserted yourself in his life in such a manner that Renjun didn’t even notice.

Perhaps you had nothing to do with it, but Renjun’s life had been treating him pretty well, too. Maybe he was more inspired these days, because his work was getting better and his professors were noticing. His painting instructor had held him back after class one day and offered him an internship at his studio. While it wasn’t huge, it was enough that Renjun had thrown his fist in the air in celebration as soon as he had left class. And you were the first person he texted and he was glad he did because you had texted back a freakout that made him grin like an idiot. You had come to see him as soon as your own class had ended and you had flung yourself in his arms and had jumped around excitedly before dragging him along so you could buy him an artist’s apron as a present.

“Do you have any more classes?” you ask him as you stare at the evening sun through your fingers.

Renjun’s about to reply when he is interrupted by the sound of your phone buzzing in your pocket. You fish it out and sit up, telling Renjun “Hold on…” before answering it. “Are you here, Yeri?”

Renjun goes back to scratching away in his pad, thinking. Maybe he should introduce himself now when Yeri comes to pick you. But what would he say? ‘Hi, I’m Y/N’s friend?’ Everyone on campus knew that the two of you weren’t exactly just friends. It was thanks to your stunt during that one online class, where he’d met you. ‘Hi, I’m Y/N’s boyfriend?’ But he wasn’t that, either. While the two of you had become pretty comfortable in each other’s company, you hadn’t really done anything, or had any serious talk about what you were. You two always found yourself tiptoeing “the line”. Actually, no. It was Renjun that tiptoed that line. After his two failed attempts to kiss you, the conversation had just not taken that turn ever again. You two hadn’t leveled up on the PDA front, either. Sure, you had cuddled into him in the back of the cab that one night, and he had half-carried you to your apartment till Yeri took you from the doorstep. But you didn’t seem to remember any of it, so it was basically back to square one. Sure, you had hugged him in joy when he had gotten the internship, but did it really count when the two of you hadn’t even held hands yet? Aside from the innuendo-filled condom tagline talk, the two of you hadn’t really done anything that would constitute as… something a couple might do.

“Okay, but how long would it take?” you’re saying into the phone, a gentle crease growing between your eyebrows. Whatever you heard back must have been distasteful because you grimace. “Okayyyy, Yeri, I’m hanging up now!” you say pointedly and groan, laying back into the grass.

Renjun chuckles “All good?”

“Yeri has brought home a ‘distraction’.” you say, making air quotes, and a face like you’ve tasted something sour. “I’m banished from my own home for the evening.”

Renjun looks up.

He thinks about his next words carefully. “Um… what are you gonna do?”

You groan once more and say “I’m probably going to crash at Lia’s till my exile is over. So inconvenient!”

“You could come over to mine.”

Renjun didn’t know how it happened, how he found the courage to think it and then actually say it out loud, but now there’s no going back because the two of you are walking down the hallway to his place. He doesn’t know why, but his throat is a little dry and he peeks over his shoulder to see that you seem a bit nervous as well. He takes a deep breath and decides to break the tension.

“Here we are.” He says as he punches in the code. He holds the door open “Hello, MTV. Welcome to my crib.”

It works because it makes you smile. “So, this is where the magic happens.”

“Mhmm, but I hope to God my roommates have at least attempted to clean it up some, because I did text them a head’s up.”

“Lead the way, Huang Renjun.” you say and he does. He walks you into his living room where Jisung is currently sitting, playing video games. The smell of something delicious makes his head turn towards the kitchen where he finds Jaemin.

“Hey, Y/N!” he calls out then wipes his hands on a towel before coming in to give you a hug.

“Hi, Y/N!” Jisung says without looking up.

Renjun is amused and a little confused. Perhaps you and Jaemin got even closer while he wasn’t noticing, but Jisung? When had the two of you met? By the looks of it, Jisung was comfortable enough with you that he wasn’t even minding his manners and greeting you properly. Probably because he was too busy dwindling his thumbs on his controller furiously.

“Damn, Jisung, you’re really going at it, huh?” you say to him easily.

“Mhmm. I would’ve been doing even better if Jaemin hadn’t interrupted and kicked me out of my own room because you were coming over.”

There is a two second silence before Jisung’s audience of three begins talking at the same time.

“Jisung!” Renjun yelps, bringing his fingers to the bridge of his nose.

“Oh, no, we aren’t going to like… do anything--” you find yourself explaining at the same time, face heating up.

“Jisungieeee!” Jaemin also sings out to scold, yet he grins as he mock-chokes the boy.

“You are so dead.” Renjun gives the back of Jisung’s head a death stare.

“Nooo, our Jisungie means well, don’t you, Jisungie?” Jaemin coos while Jisung dodges his kisses.

Renjun shakes his head and places a hand to your arm to guide you along. “Let’s go.”

“I’ve made food if you crazy kids get hungry!” Jaemin calls after you and it’s the most animated he’s been in a while.

His friends being, well, his friends was probably worth it because Renjun is feeling a lot better as he brings you into his room. It had been a while since he had brought a girl over and looking about, he can tell that his mates did a good job at hastily cleaning it.

“Damn, Huang Renjun. You’re a clean boy.” you’re saying as you look about. “I thought you’d be the artfully messy type.”

Renjun grins as he runs his fingers through his hair. “We can mess it up together if you’d like.” But Renjun mentally smacks himself in the head as soon as the words leave his mouth because you’ve looked up at him and quickly looked away, muttering something awkwardly.

“I… I didn’t mean that. I just meant with like, paint and, like…” Renjun blows air out of his mouth and then your eyes meet. Before you know it, you both are giggling at each other because the awkwardness is probably making you a bit delirious.

Renjun watches as you take a deep breath to stop the giggles and turn to start looking around. “Oooh. Mr. Fancypants is a tea connoisseur.” you say as you run your hands over his teabag display box.

Renjun chuckles “Do you want me to make you some?”

“Sure. Let’s have tea, Mr. Fancypants.” you take a seat on his wheelie chair and your eyes go to the artist’s apron you had bought him that is currently hanging on an easel. You give it a fond smile.

“What flavor would you like?” Renjun asks as he puts the kettle on and sets up two mugs.

“Umm… I don’t know tea. I’m a coffee drinker.” you reply, your fingers tracing over the pictures he had at his desk.

“I’ll make you a simple chamomile, then. I’ve seen you and Jaemin enabling each other’s coffee habits and I don’t approve.” he knots his eyebrows.

“Oh no, no, no. Jaemin is on a different level. I took a sip of his coffee by mistake once and my entire life flashed before my eyes. I don’t know if that boy drinks coffee or straight up cocaine.”

Renjun bites his smile because he’s still holding onto the look of disapproval. “That would explain the random spikes and falls in his energy.” he says as he pours out the water in the mugs and seeps the teabags. “Here you go.” he sets your mug on the desk and takes a seat on his bed.

You take a sip “So, which one is your bunk?”

“Top.” Renjun also wants to make an innuendo but he stops himself because the awkwardness surrounding the fact that you and him are alone in his room has only just subsided with the tea.

“Isn’t the bottom bunk more comfortable?” you muse as you drink. You seem to be enjoying your tea because you haven’t set it aside yet.

“Of course it is. It’s why Jisung has it.” he comments, cocking his eyebrow. “And I sleep here on this bed.” He pats where he’s sat.

You grin as you sip then quickly wipe your chin as some tea spills through your smile. “Where do you keep all your paintings?”

“In the studio. On that top bunk. Behind that door. At my grandma’s house.” he lists off on his fingers.

“Why behind the door? If I had your talent, I’d basically cover every bit of my wall in my art. Like the most egomaniacal artist in the world.” you fantasize, looking up at the ceiling.

Renjun chuckles. “I kinda like my space to be a bit cleaner, you know? Because I’m always around art. It kinda helps with my imagination, having a clean environment. It’s almost like a clean canvas.”

“Interesting.” you’ve said and it sounds like you genuinely mean it. “It’s still a bit sad. All the work you’ve created should have a home. It shouldn't be hidden away behind doors or on top bunks.”

“You can give some of them a home if you’d like. If you have space, I mean.” Renjun gives you a fond look. You haven’t replied but you’ve set your mug down and looked at him with a very tender look in your eyes. You stand up.

“I wanna see your bed.”

Renjun grins. “Be my guest.”

“Ooooh.” you make an excited squeal, almost like you're about to enter Dexter’s Laboratory. You plop yourself on it and bounce up and down, almost as if to check the pliability of it.

“So this is where the magic happens.” you giggle and then Renjun finds your gaze moving to a picture frame on his headboard. “Is that your grandma?”

“It is.” Renjun smiles as he watches you pick your feet up and make yourself comfortable.

“She looks exactly like you.” you say, looking back at him with an affectionate look.

“A lot of people say that. People in school used to think I’m adopted because I looked nothing like my parents.” Renjun scoots back to sit next to you.

“Are you close to your parents?” you ask gently, looking at him.

Renjun looks away.

The two of you hadn’t had that many deep conversations. And anytime you did, he had found a way around it so that nothing was shared, nothing was learnt.

But no one had ever asked him that… not in so many words. He finds himself shrugging and responding before he can stop himself. “Nah. They don’t even talk to me. They’ve never really cared.”

“How do you know that, Renjun?” you’re asking him in a very soft voice. The kind of voice that has Renjun sharing more than he wants.

“They pretty much abandoned me very young,” Renjun laughs ironically. “They would fight all the time, you know? Like, they really would go at each other one moment then make up the next moment. They kind of forgot they had a son.” Renjun finds himself saying while his eyes fixate on a loose thread on Jisung’s bedsheet. He realizes he’s warm and comfortable and that’s when he notices that you’ve put an arm around him.

“That must have been so hard, to go through that.” you’re speaking to him so softly and your head and your body is angled towards him, giving him all your attention while Renjun talks into the abyss.

“They were just like… kinda dysfunctional, you know? They fought like crazy and I had to hide away so I wouldn’t hear them. And then the next day, they’d be in each other’s arms like nothing happened. They would pretend like everything was all right. Like the trauma they gave me meant nothing.”

You’re not speaking anymore, only listening. Your hand around him has started to gently stroke his arm. Your other hand softly combs through his hair.

“It was such a vicious cycle and they wouldn’t stop. I think they were kinda addicted to it. They would’ve been happy living like that with each other if it weren’t for me.” He had never shared so much with anyone. But now that he had started, it was difficult to stop.

“Renjun…” you say empathetically and pull him into you. Renjun pauses for a moment, but decides to give in. What did it matter, anyway? He rests his head on your shoulder.

“If it weren’t for my grandma, I wouldn’t even be alive, you know? She saved me from all of that and took me in. She raised me. It wasn’t even her responsibility, but she raised me.”

You are holding him to you and soothingly stroking his hair when you say “Then I think your grandma is the luckiest person in this world. Because she got to see you grow up to be such a good man.”

Renjun feels a lump in his throat grow and before he knows it, there are tears stinging in his eyes. You turn your head and press a kiss into his temple and slowly rock him. It was odd, being here like this, because Renjun realizes that this was the first time you had kissed him. But more than anything else, it was the first time someone had held him like this.

The last time he remembered being held was probably when he was a child, and it had been his grandma. No one since had held him in their arms to listen to him, to comfort him, to love him without any conditions. No one had tried to take his pain away without wanting something in return. The thought puts more tears in his eyes and he finds himself leaning his weight into you.

He allows you to hold him and comfort him and coo at him. You’re speaking to him gently but Renjun isn’t hearing your words. He’s only concentrating on the soothing sound of your voice and how melodic it is. He liked hearing you talk. He’s concentrating on how you’re rocking him, and how the movement is slowly lulling him. He liked how warm and soft you were and how protective your arms were. He liked the smell of chamomile on your breath. Had you enjoyed chamomile? He thought you had. Maybe you would’ve enjoyed a different flavor more. Renjun decides he should make you an Earl Grey next time; it would probably be better suited to your caffeine tastes. Maybe you wouldn’t like Earl Grey as much either, but it would be nice to discover that bit about you. He’d make you try all the flavors till he learnt which one your favorite was.

“How come I never saw your cat?” He asks sleepily after you’ve been quiet for a while.

“Hmm?” you ask, confused.

“Your cat. Galbi. How come I didn’t see him when I came over?” Renjun can feel your smile against his temple.

“Oh. Yeri had dropped him over at the vet’s that day. Do you want to meet him?” you ask him.

“Yeah, it would be nice to meet him.” Renjun says and brings an arm up to cuddle closer into you.

“Okay. Next time you come over, you can meet him… shoulder gangster Renjun.” you’re only whispering at him now as you tease him.

“Mmm.” is the only reply Renjun can manage as he chuckles lazily. He didn’t even feel like killing Donghyuck for telling you about that because he feels so good like this, in your arms. Renjun hasn’t even noticed that you’ve laid him down till he realizes how horizontal he is.

It felt nice. Being held by someone, being protected by someone, being comforted by someone. Your hands haven’t stopped soothing him for a single moment ever since they started. Renjun hadn’t even noticed that you’d put the covers on him. Or that you were kissing the top of his head till he feels the warmth. It all felt so nice. He barely registers that your shirt is wet from his tears. All he feels are the relaxing patterns you’re drawing onto his skin. It’s the last thing he feels as he drifts off. And though you're gone in the morning, Renjun can swear this is the most sound sleep he's slept in many nights. He feels a thousand times lighter, like someone had lifted a heavy weight off of his chest and he was finally breathing fully.

He smiles as he grabs his phone and sees your name right on the top of his notification list. He reads your message:

‘Hey, shoulder gangster. Sorry I left without telling you but you were sleeping so soundly, I didn’t want to wake you. I wanted to ask you something AND YOU CAN TOTALLY SAY NO. But my brother’s hosting a spring art festival of some sort at my parent’s house this weekend. A lot of his artist friends from his company will be there. Do you maybe wanna come with me?’

And there it was.

Yes, it was funny how quickly people form habits without really meaning to. And in his new habit, Renjun had forgotten the real reason he was with you in the first place.

Eyes on the fucking prize, Renjun thinks as his reality comes crashing back on him.

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mypersonmyg · 4 years

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Tebori Tapioca | JJK

**beautiful banner made by @monvante <3

pairing: Jeongguk x reader

genre: fluff, strangers to lovers, love at first sight, tattoo au, tea shop au

wc: 15k

warnings: language, slow burn???

summary: a shining beacon in a sea of monotony OR you just might believe in love at first sight

a/n: hi friends, umm so yea this is a fic i’ve been cooking up for a while and as seems to happen with most of my fics there’s definitely room for more but i didn’t wanna go overboard because the last time i did no one read womp womp...

ANYWHO there’s still very much room for this universe to grow whether it be drabbles, smaller oneshots or whatever so if you have requests pls send them !! for this au or any others

honorary tag: @gukssunshine

masterlist

Sunlight filters through an open storefront, natural light shading the room in incandescent glow, the honk of horns just overstating the chirp of the birds perched in overarching trees that line the street. Lights are still lit, strung throughout branches despite the hour slowly inching toward noon.

Your pencil taps a worn pad, the hundredth rotation of the dormant rectangle of sheets providing no more inspiration than ninety-nine and below. You shove the contents along a desk littered in your crumpled defeat, legs kicking to the wooden surface with comforting intent.

It’s not unusual, the stray of your eyes to the shop just a few buildings from the florist decorating the opposing side of the street. A work in progress, a work almost in completion. It’s become a game, the guessing of its contents, the colorful display before it’s displayed intriguing to many passersby. You’re close to pondering a new theory when Jimin interrupts with his entrance from the back, reciting safety to Namjoon’s latest masterpiece.

He whistles an impressive tune following the departure of a satisfied client, rounding his occupied desk and knocking your feet from his cluttered surface. You don’t have time for the countered glare of offense before his words are zeroed in as if he’s been waiting to direct them long before now when your guard is readily disarmed. “You have an office for a reason, why do you always have to sit at my desk.”

“It’s a nice view.”

“I’ll admit that my delicate features leave nothing to the imagination, but I’m tired of cleaning up after you.” His words are emphasized by his hand’s routine swipe, piles of paper tumbling to the can beside him in rapid succession. Your eyes roll, Jimin’s fingers already beginning to type away on his desktop while your pupils track the delicate arch of his digits and your ears listen to the satisfying click of keys. The consideration of locking yourself away in your office trapezes along the wide expanse of your mind, but before it’s made up Jimin is speaking again, this time with an air of factual superiority. “A tea shop.”

“Hmm?”

“The shop down the street, it’s a tea shop.”

“You sound pretty confident,” You hum, eyes darting to the window, turquoise staring back in the fashion of awnings and fresh paint bordering a wooden frame. The sleeves of your sweater bite at your wrist in comforting fuzz, a slight itch along the skin to pull you from quaint interest. “What makes you so sure?”

“Just a feeling, it’s got that certain ambiance, you know?” Jimin’s hands wave with the impression of the ambiance so to speak, his eyes squinted in that way you so adore. The thought crosses your mind on many occasions, to compliment his subtle beauty, but the knowledge of his playfully arrogant counter always draws you from speech.

“Or because we ran into the owner on our way in this morning,” Namjoon chirps in kind, strolling to the lobby, his own pad in hand. He neatly tosses it to the desk, fingers skimming through unkempt hair. “Nice guy, said he might drop in for a consultation sometime.”

“Consultation? Sounds big,” You muse, hand finding your abandoned pencil to drag faint strokes along your page, though even the slight draw brings grimace to your features, dulled in the shadow of your palm pressed to your forehead, easily nudging wisps of loose hair. Namjoon shrugs, a non-committal range of motion, his neck craning over your shoulder to sneak a peek at your lack of a work of art.

He doesn’t speak on it, simply taking in the unfinished strokes, presumably in an attempt to reassure you in the midst of inspiration long lost. You're prepared to assure him that there’s no need for forced encouragement, but he moves on, collapsing onto near plush without a word.

“Says he’s been thinking about it for a while so I told him we could help him out. He also invited us to his opening, said he'd save some tea for us if we’re busy.” Lips pull back, dimples accenting Namjoon’s heavy cheeks.

You’re unsurprised by his amicable tale, recalling your fresh steps into this very shop just a few years prior. Your body was bare of ink and your arms bore only a flimsy book with hopeful sketches. He’d taken in your wide eyed glance and the disappearance of your bottom lip to the gnawing confines of your teeth. His towering height and newly trimmed hair taunting you within the daunting shadow that filled your frame through the doorway.

You chuckle at past memories, wondering how you could ever fear the gentle giant, his lips pulling into ready grin as he showed you to the very desk before you now.

“What’s so funny?” Namjoon calls to you, Jimin halting in his current endeavor to glance the smirk stretching your cheek.

“Nothing, just thinking. Was that your last client for the day?” You grab for the sign-in ledger, finger trailing the thick page, pinky tugging at the pulled edge of a worn corner. Your smirk flips to a frown poorly withheld, the page filled with Namjoon only reminding you that your own supplies need only be sanitized to prevent the collection of dust.

“Yeah, I figured we’d just close shop early today.” Jimin swipes the ledger with a tisk in your direction, not blind to silent thoughts.

“It’s noon, what if someone wants a walk-in?” Your gaze slides to the clock, hands ticking slowly along the round wall piece. It’s not unreasonable to assume someone will come in seeking art of the bodily variety, and your hands itch to prove your worth, even if it lies within an album long binded.

“Then I’m sure they’ll still want it tomorrow.” Namjoon shrugs, his hands folding over his chest forcing the bulge of recently buffed arms. You almost make a joke about the possible tear of the t-shirt hugging his frame, but refrain out of refusal to partake in the pursuance of sure to follow antics. “Besides, it’ll give you more time to work on that.”

You follow the tilt of Namjoon’s hair, long grown out from his routine refusal to take time from his day to get a trim. You often joke that he’ll be gallivanting with a tail soon enough, his thick locks nearly shoulder length as it stands. He often finds himself shaking it from his peripheral with the wrong angling of his head. He motions to your barely done sketch, the page glaring at you with a mocking disgust.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m gonna do.” You drip sarcasm, pad tossed to your bag and jacket jerked to waiting arms.

~*~

Off-white trim borders the wall of a shop nearly complete, Jeongguk checks and double checks a list stored in the confines of his mental. Aside from constant fear of the opening of doors without the steady flood of patrons he’s eager for business, hard work finally paying its due.

He’s only in for the morning, the steady tick of his wrist a reminder to snap from his obsessive habit, sure that he’ll receive word from Taehyung that he's on his way to drag him from the building. His grin rivals the glare of the sun as his eyes travel a building come together. His hand falls to his arm in dramatic pinch to ensure that his eyes aren’t filled with hopeful deceit.

It fits, he thinks, stepping out onto the walk, key slotting into the door to ensure security. His shop melds perfectly with the heavily lined street, animated tapioca unfinished in the window somehow making sense with the neighboring extravagance of bloom at the near florist and the samples of ink from the tattoo shop across the way. Even the simple thrift shop with it’s objects of interest decorating the window compliments his simple display.

Opportunity hasn’t struck to visit his new neighbors, though he did stumble into a chunk of the owners of one of the shops. He found surprise in the ease with which conversation flowed, his mouth like the babble of a brooke despite the nerves that skipped like pebbles in his stomach and his heart that beat a million miles a minute following their friendly departure.

In his stupor he nearly misses the float of voices a ways down the quietly milling street, but the recognition of a melodic tone draws his gaze.

“I’ll take you for ice cream.” Jeongguk recognizes the voice that seeks to entice as Jimin, though he doesn’t recognize you.

“I’m not a child you know.” Your statement is grumbled, the words echoing that of a childlike pout. Jeongguk can see the movement of your arms as they reach to a playful shove, the rhythmic shift of Jimin’s feet looking routine even from a distance. You choose not to acknowledge Jimin’s coo, his fingers poking at your protruding cheek as if to say Oh but aren’t you?

Jeongguk watches with interest and the initiative to work up the courage to bring acknowledgement to his presence and perhaps introduction to who he expects is the other third of the tattoo shop. You and Jimin are too caught in bickering to notice the figure just feet away, your fingers pinching Jimin’s nose with a countering taunt.

“Can’t I just treat you to a nice frozen treat? I don’t recall that being a crime, but please enlighten me.” You pinch the bridge of your own nose, the scent of freshly packed soil wafting from neatly situated pots.

You spot the poke of pink from one of the tall and timid plants, though you imagine the fragile nature is only by way of visual, Yoongi always diligent with his seedling evolved friends. You make note to beg him to allow the purchase of a precarious plant, an act of teasing to stem from your track record, the memory of shriveled begonias bringing even your shoulders to lift in cringe.

“Are you still talking?” Your gaze shifts back to Jimin, his flow not conscious to your unconscious senses.

“So rude, you should be thanking me for the extra time off.”

“As if I need more time off, but fine, I suppose I can let you treat me as an apology for your ratty transgressions.” You tut. Were your ears peaked and footing less strayed you would’ve noted the distant chuckle of Jeongguk, still standing dormant outside of a dimmed shop.

His thoughts of hurried introduction came to halt with his notice of you. Your voice held a playful jab when you spoke, Jimin’s reactions only animated enough to draw slight attention from your raised tone. Despite your fussing dialogue, your posture was slouched just a tad and your hands fisted into snug jacket sleeves to mimic paws. Jeongguk decides he’d be hard pressed not to be endeared by you in the slightest.

“Wow, I thought I was gonna have to come here and drag you out by the ears.” Hands clap Jeongguk’s shoulders, Taehyung rounding his frame, grin gentle as he regards with relief. “I swear you’d probably live here if I didn’t keep you at bay. What are you--oh she’s pretty.”

The two watch your retreat, your hand easily clasping Jimin's, the swing of connected wrists appearing natural with your stride through the afternoon chill. Jeongguk ignores the flare of his cheeks at the notion of exposure, thankful that Taehyung doesn’t make a show of his ogling.

“Yeah, looks like she’s taken though...you wanna get ice cream?” Taehyung scrunches his nose, wind kissed cheeks held between gloved palms. His scoff is inward, Jeongguk’s suggestion appearing nothing short of ridiculous as the two are swept by a wind that’s particularly biting. While Taehyung shivers, Jeongguk doesn’t appear to mind, hands shoved in his pockets, heels rocking along cracked concrete.

“Do I look like I want to get ice cream? It’s freezing out here and not everyone radiates the warmth of a furnace.”

“Well unlike you, not everyone is so dramatic.”

“Whatever, just get some when we get home.” Taehyung lightly shoves, legs turning in the direction of his car, parked on asphalt, freshly coated by summer’s end.

Jeongguk stares after the winded trail of a billowing pea, your bobbing figure rounding a corner and straying from widened eyes. He sucks through clenched teeth, opportunities knock having been missed at the hands of Taehyung. The clench of fists in pockets goes unnoticed as he rounds on planted heels and makes his way to the car, Taehyung happily staring from the passenger seat waiting with a grin dripping sincerity.

“You definitely owe me for this.”

~*~

You twitch along with the consistent drip of a leaky faucet, the tap of digits on worn ceramic offering a release to limbs without proper use. The biting chill in your toes is only minutely cured by the pilling of four blankets, barely thick enough to rival the wool knit socks Hoseok gifted you last christmas.

You find pause in the sun setting from the window, dim lighting pouring through weak curtains. Your tongue prods at the confines of your mouth, frosted by forced treat and abandoned with the recommendation of a mug of hot cocoa which now rests lukewarm in your clenching palms.

You force your mind to yield, racing in a direction opposite the self destructive course that usually remains dormant until you lay to rest for the evening. Hands numbed by the interference of a numbing chill met with the warmth of a mostly empty mug nearly spilling when your right palm jumps in the direction of your phone, perched on an end table composed of chipping wood and stains too set to resemble anything but a dark pool, a picture puddle fit for galoshes in adolescence.

You wonder if Yoongi’s taken his plants in, the set of cold not nearly the condition for any pending life surely. Though you quickly pull back, recalling a conversation following another mishap, your plant lying limp before the attentive florist, his cheeks rosy from the heat lamps and the temperature set to ensure maximum growth year round. It was with passion that he waxed about the difference between certain plants and the amazing circumstances of their survival.

It was with half amused grin, your head lopsided along the freshly painted door frame that he assured you that if a plant can survive the harsh conditions of the season of cool there was surely one meant to survive you.

You glance to the succulent placed on the sill overlooking your sink. You had been indignant at Yoongi’s insistence that you take it, almost begging that he give you one of the smiling pink numbers reflecting in the window rather than the less impressive green poking from the dirt of a tiny hand painted pot. Yoongi’s reaction was much the same, innocence painting his rose blushed cheeks as he explained the beauty of every plant, sure to continue on until you gently removed the pot from his fingers.

Now the once shy note of green was large enough to cover your palm, a bright spot in the dark of your apartment, falling apart at the hands of purposeful ignorance from an absent landlord.

A sharp tap against your front door draws your gaze, pointed as if to break the barrier of solid wood. You don’t notice the spill of your drink until warmth slips through your sweater, arm jerk sending the mug careening to shatter. The pieces decorate the floor with a colorful tap to pair with the running of dark liquid along the hardwood.

“Shit.” Words muttered in haste, one of many blankets piled in swaddle is heaved to the floor, your legs lifting you from the chair and gently to clothed knees. Cocooning the glass in the thick material you stand to full height when another tap draws you. Your hands tug at your sweater, the seep of the liquid already beginning to set in and your skin grows irritated from the unwanted intrusion. “Coming!”

You glance to the spot where chocolate dances along the edges of your braided rug, the centerpiece itching to soak up what it can manage of the chocolatey drink, already dreading the work of scrubbing to prevent permanent damage. Making your way to the door your feet stride in a half walk half slide along hardwood, tripping up due to the soiled bits of fabric sticking to your feet and resisting a usually easy trek along the hardwood. The pull of the door is a surprise, an unfamiliar face staring back at you with a geometrically flattering smile.

“Hello…” Your words are drawn and rasped, a mixture of the lack of dialogue and settling curiosity.

“Hi, I’m Taehyung.” There’s no deterrence from Taehyung at your lack of reciprocated enthusiasm, just the shake of locks, shaggy and shielding his eyes that appear to glisten in the flicker of the hall lights. His eyes brighten in recognition, though you can’t seem to separate his stare from the reflection of his shocking irises and simply accept his hand as it slowly extends.

“Y/n. Is there something I can help you with?” You attempt a glance around his ever present frame in hope for an explanation, but the notion is non-existent so you wait as he gathers his own. You don’t miss the wandering of his eyes to the open of your apartment but don’t call him on it, an entrance composed of nothing more than a table and a crooked portrait gifted by Jin. You can hear his distant cackles as he positioned it just perfectly before the door.

“Actually I was gonna ask you how to work the heat in this place, but you look about as warm as me so…” He shifts on his heels unsure, taking in your heavily bundled appearance.

You tug once more at your stained sweater, your face heating with recollection of the soiled garment still clinging to you, now with more fervor from the added moisture. Your thick socks are layered over a pair only slightly less so and your legs appear heavily padded under two pairs of dense sweats. “You must be new here.”

Taehyung shrugs, half a step taken in retreat. He tilts his head just so, gesturing to the vacant hall, a door half ajar allowing the flood of light to illuminate the peel of ancient wallpaper. Not for the first time you wish you’d taken Jimin up on his spare room. “Yeah, just officially moved in today. We’re down the hall, heard the apartment’s been vacant for a while and it seemed nice enough.”

“But no one told you that the heat only works correctly on a good day, sounds about right.”

“And our shower--”

“Leaks?” You finish, the distant drip from your kitchen just audible over your speech. Your thumb pushes against the bow of your pursed lips, teeth grabbing hold of roughened skin whilst you watch the turn of cogs tumbling before you.

“Yeah...should I call the landlord?” His brows knit at your nonchalance, thumb jerking to his apartment. You almost chuckle, covering your outburst with a quick tilt of your head. The simplicity of the suggestion seems only to add to the hilarity of the situation.

“Sure, but I’d recommend investing in a space heater and keeping a couple of tools handy. I’m not wearing four layers to make a fashion statement.” Your fingers drum along the frame of your door, the gentle tap carrying between you in soft silence. “Well...welcome to the building and sorry to be the bearer of bad news.”

“Guess someone had to be,” His throat clears in chuckle, hand tugging at the sleeve of his hoodie, the strings hanging lopsided where his hood lay half scrunched at the base of his neck. His thumb lifts to trace the corner of his mouth, shifted in that same grin that greeted you minutes prior, though this time your return is swift and without the same haze that accompanied his unfamiliar presence. “Thank you. I appreciate your help.”

Taehyung turns on his heel at the pace of the gears turning in his brain, swift stride carrying him back to his door, yours clicking shut along the shells of his ears. He pushes into his residence, door squeaking on hinges as it closes in his wake. Straight for the living room he makes haste with lengthy stride, spotting Jeongguk who swallows the couch with his body, spread as much as the lengthened cushion will allow. He peeks from his curtain of hair, dangling at the angle of his head, blinking with the poke of a follicle gently prodding his pupil.

“So?” He pushes up to a sit, nearly knocking his phone from the arm where it’s perched without care. His shoulders shake from the mix of cold and anticipation, mistaking the grin that Taehyung sports as a triumphant mission.

“Oh this place is spectacularly shitty, my friend. Looks like we’ll be snuggling like penguins if we wanna get warm tonight.” As if to punctuate his vivid explanation, Taehyung slides dangerously close to where Jeongguk remains sitting, legs brushing as he sinks into the already heated seat.

Jeongguk nudges to the sharp of Taehyung’s shoulder, encouraging him further inward with a defeated groan. He’s sure he catches the scent of something similar to carpet that’s been left to mildew, but he attributes it to imagination. Somehow this very apartment seemed a saving grace just a month ago. “I knew we should’ve splurged on that loft. Why are you smiling?”

“Hm, so that girl that you were staring at earlier, you know her?” Taehyung doesn’t shy from his urge to throw himself over Jeongguk’s lap, ignoring the squint scrutiny from above. He pokes at the underside of Jeongguk’s chin, teasing a reaction from him, grimace evident from the suction of his cheeks.

“Not exactly, I know the guy she was with though. They own the tattoo shop, why?” Taehyung braces his head with one hand, the other grabbing hold of the string dangling from his clothes, rolling the aglet between agile fingers. He ponders the thought of revealing that just beyond moth eaten wallpaper and the cracks of a concrete hall you await just a few doors down.

“Just a question. You didn’t think I would just leave it, did you?” Jeongguk’s nose scrunches because he did in fact find that avenue favorable among the chosen. Taehyung pats his muscled thigh with a patronizing shake of the head, hair already tangling with the push of his heavy skull to Jeongguk’s tough jeans.

“So what, she’s cute, not like I know anything about her. I’m more concerned with making it through the night without contracting pneumonia or risking the complete freeze of my limbs.”

The two seem to scoot closer at the thought, Taehyung now pushed against Jeongguk’s abdomen. They paint quite a picture on their second hand furniture, couch in need of stitching at the seams and the questionable stain that inhabited it upon arrival nipping at the press of Taehyung’s socked feet into the cushion.

Fatigue abandoned the task of unloading boxes that litter the expanse of open flooring and leftover furniture. Their energy fueled endeavor long forgotten along with the memory of comforting warmth. They both ponder the idea of retreating to respective rooms, but find it would be a miracle if they could manage to pull themselves from half comfort, abandoning the hope of body heat against the chill of the shared space.

Audible groan travels the four walls when a gentle fist beats against the door. Taehyung shoves at Jeongguk’s shoulder, a silent appeal to the younger to make sacrifice and leave their cocooned warmth. Jeongguk won’t be swayed, his arms easily finding the weight of Taehyung’s side and nudging enough to send him careening to the floor with a resounding thud.

Grumbles and groans of the incoherent leave Taehyung’s mouth, amused giggles falling from Jeongguk whose legs are now pulled to drink in the heat left behind. Taehyung stops for a moment, thinking that his timely trek was wasted, opposing party’s fist meeting wood no more. He gently opens the door, head ducking around the corner, foot stepping out only to stub into something surely placed for such an occasion as his physical reckoning.

He foregoes subtly, mouth unhinging and curses falling akin to rocks from a cliff side, the echo bouncing against concrete and soaking into the slips and edges of the silent walls. Jeongguk ambles around the corner with concern etched features, the draw of his eyes landing on his roommate, leg at an angle and clutched whilst he leans against the doorframe.

Jeongguk squeezes past, kneeling to pluck the sticky posted from the top of what appears to be a space heater. His eyes scan the crisp note, glancing down the hall with the knowledge that the perpetrator is surely long gone. “Dude, you good?”

“Stubbed my fucking toe,” Taehyung strains. Jeongguk let’s him sulk, hiding a purposeful grin from the dramatist leaning over him. “What is that anyways.”

“Space heater.” He passes the note, Taehyung scans it quickly with a hum. He doesn’t miss the look he’s receiving from Jeongguk, aware of the name scribbled along the tiny parchment. “Was nice of them. What did you say anyways?”

“Nothing really, guess I’m just a natural charmer.”

~*~

“Will you tell her that she should just move in with me like I suggested in the first place?” Jimin snags on the thick of Namjoon’s t-shirt, pulling him from his task, resituating his glasses along his face rather than the slide to the tip of his nose that seemed a regular occurance. You choose to ignore the commotion, back to sweeping dust and scattered leaves from the entrance of the shop.

Your living situation, less than ideal, often leads you to Jimin’s door, his spare room rather drenched in your deposited belongings. It’s his futile mission to persuade you to trade up from your desolate one bedroom with it’s desperate calling for tlc and take permanent residence in his humble abode just uptown.

It’s foolish not to consider, but you always find the scrape of your teeth roughening the budded surface of your tongue when he turns to you with his grin of sweet saccharine nearly once a week. You don’t know what it is about the cracks that seem to shimmy further up the walls with each passing minute or the breaks in the tile that beg an earthquake decades off, but you aren’t quite ready to part with it.

“If you want me to stop coming over just say so,” You huff, fully aware that’s not the case but sure it’ll throw Jimin for a curve with enough distance to keep him at bay.

He sputters, releasing Namjoon with a gentle shove, “That’s not it and you know it! I just don’t see why you stay there, it’s so...broken.”

“I’ll have you know that I-”

“Have lived there since you came here blah blah blah, we know. Oh hey, a customer! Would you look at that,” Jimin’s over enthused response following a set of feet flooding through draws your next words to thin air, replaced with a well meaning grin. His perked posture slumps when he realizes that it is not in fact a patron looking to empty their wallet. “Oh, it’s just Hobi-hyung.”

“Thanks for the sunshine,” Hoseok counters, elbows covered with a patched overcoat resting along the edge of Jimin’s desk. Though his words hold a tinge of sarcasm, he’s all smiles as he regards you. Much like Namjoon he sports his frames today, wide and rectangular perched along the bridge of his nose. From the opening of his coat you smirk at the peak of a bright yellow sweater, an animation practically dancing along the expanse of his chest.

“Guess it’s a good thing that’s your job,” Namjoon pats him on his way to his office, returning with a box overflowing with garments and books. It’s not unusual that the two of them exchange goods, Hoseok’s thrift always looking for ways to fill the shelf.

It surprised you in the beginning, the flow of people who seemed to always leave his shop holding something to their chest like it was the world stuffed into a novelty bag. That was before Hoseok insisted that you visit yourself, sure you’d find something of interest. He wasn’t perturbed by skepticism, it only seemed to fuel the glint of a thousand galaxies that flared in his concentrated stare.

You’d ambled the lot for a good thirty minutes, fingers gliding along shelves so sturdy it came as a shock that he installed them himself, the wiggle of his elongated fingers when you recited the thought still fresh. It was the belief of Hoseok, in his own words, that there was a magic in places like his. A magnetic pull that would lead you to just the thing you need, often times things he himself didn’t even know he possessed.

“The rest is all in good fun,” He’d finished with that smile that rivaled the shine of the largest star glistening from above.

Your magic was nestled in the thick of it all, buried beneath someone else’s waiting fortune. It was the far corner that drew you, something about it just a shade darker than the rest of the large room. You’re unsure what possessed you, ignoring the insistence of magic cycling through the heavy air conditioning as you pillage through a pile of neatly folded quilts and the random placement of a busted stereo.

“Find something?” Hoseok appeared, head resting just over your shoulder. Your crouch betrayed you and were it not for quick reflexes and a helping hand the bust of your ass was sure to find the floor. Hoseok stood with a pool of change shaking in his palm and his neat smile waiting for you to putter around with your find.

“It’s just a necklace, nothing special.”

“Still, take it, you never know.” He was insistent that you leave with the silver chain, an onyx pendant dangling from the end and even more so that, rather than pay him, you admit that there’s something in the air. You agreed, but your reluctance was only truly squashed when you found yourself adorning the necklace more than your usual jewelry reserved for occasion.

“Hey, did you guys hear about the tea shop opening up?” Hoseok plants himself on Jimin’s desk, ignoring the playful glare burning a hole in his side. Namjoon rests the box on the ground next to him with a grunt, clear on Hoseok’s intention to linger as long as time will allow rather than collecting his treasure and hurrying back to his own place of work.

“Jimin and I met the owner yesterday, he seems like a really nice guy.” Namjoon fills before Jimin has the chance to allow his jaw to unhinge, no doubt planning to flaunt his basic knowledge like privileged information.

“That’s nice. Rumor has it he specializes in boba.” You would chuckle were it not for the wild look in Hoseok’s eyes, his hands painting imaginary rainbow before slotting through the pockets of his coat. His feet steadily tap tap against the tile, the gentle nod of his head not at all unusual but nonetheless intriguing. “It’ll be so nice not having to drive a town over just to have a nice tapioca pearl.”

“You know they sell those, you could make your own.” Your words are all but lost on the eccentric businessman, his tactic to avoid information displeasing to his interests taking full effect. His body angles, half hiding a chuckling Jimin from your view. Sliding the broom to the near closet, not unaware of leaves sadly crumpled against the tile from Hoseok’s timely entrance, but not bothered enough to scoop them into the waiting bin, you make haste to your office slipping between the door slightly ajar. “Right. Well I’m gonna go try to get some work done.”

You release a stuttered breath upon the gentle click of your door, mumbled dialogue just barely pushing through the thick wood. Air puffs your cheeks in half contemplation, silence stealing the inspiration that seemed to dance before you, brain now only half awake as time seems to dwindle at the speed of sound. Instead of the reach for a waiting pad and the scatter of ballpoint colors staring from your desk unused and impatient, you grab for a volume that seems to scream from the near bookshelf.

It begs the recollection of time well spent, a pang in your chest follows a rushing to the surface as if air tearing from lungs lacking capacity. Your full weight collapses to your chair, recently upgraded at Namjoon’s insistence that nursing the squeaky four wheeler that threatened to collapse with the wrong release of breath violated his own moral codes before the hushed mumble about legal repercussions. You aren’t complaining, the upgrade makes you feel like a permanent staple, especially when your mind is convinced that layoff is imminent.

Your fingers trace the smooth cover of hardback, reckoning with the ache to feel the crisp of unturned pages and avoid the buildup that follows suit. It’s the not knowing that tugs at the precipice of your flowing mind, wishing for diagnosis from a stagnant flow of a previous gold mine.

Your ears peak at the surge of voices layering the lobby, though your mind squashes the urge for a slip back into the throw of pleasant chatter. You draw a drawer, fishing for half tangled buds, slipping them into your heightened canals to drown with the sounds of your latest fix.

~*~

The lift of Jeongguk’s gaze as heavy feet carry him past the fluorescent sign of Uhgood Tattoo and through the ringing entrance is subtle enough as doe eyes scan the lengthy space for a feminine form. He’s met with null, but the snag of his pupils on a wall of intricacy almost distracts from the loiter of men staring straight for him and Taehyung who is decidedly less preoccupied.

“Jeongguk, nice to see you again!” Namjoon booms over every voice in the room. His arms are half open in eager acceptance and Jeongguk leads Taehyung to the settled group, one last sweep still leaving him wanting for an introduction or a glimpse at best. “We were actually just talking about you.”

“About me?” His tone toes between surprise and unease, lips puckering in the shape of ‘oh’ and steps stuttering against the crunch of leaves slipping along linoleum.

“Yeah, Hoseok here was just saying how excited he is that you moved in. He owns the thrift shop just across from you.”

Hoseok doesn’t need much introduction before he’s centered in front of Jeongguk, smile glinting and hands reaching for the younger man with much fervor. Jeongguk would find the proximity daunting were it not for the friendly face reflecting in his widened irises. His chest rumbles, glad to place a face to bright signs and eccentric displays.

“Nice to meet you, we’re all glad to have a new face on our little strip. I’m especially glad to have an excuse to save myself from Jin’s questionable experiments in the kitchen.” Hoseok’s hand has yet to stop its steady shake of Jeongguk’s, too caught in words, leaving his mind’s body on its own. “Feel free to drop by my shop anytime, I love seeing new faces. Plus-”

“Here we go…” Jimin cuts, feigned exasperation coating his pitched tone before he excuses himself to the back of the shop. His exit isn’t swift enough to hide the exasperation of the puff of air that gaps his lips.

“There’s a special kind of magic in a shop like mine and because you just moved in the first trinket is on the house!”

“Oh magic? Taehyung’s really into that stuff, we’ll stop in sometime.” He gestures to his friend whose hands are shoved to the thick of his sweatshirt, lips pushed inward with the suck of his cheeks. “This is him by the way, Taehyung, he’s my partner of sorts at the cafe and my roommate.”

“Yeah, though the last one is questionable at the moment. Nice to meet you guys, this place is sweet! Do you do piercings by any chance?” As if by pure luck Jimin’s stepping back into the room, his eyes set ablaze with passion by the innocent inquiry.

“Piercings are my specialty actually, I can pierce any and everything!” His hands clasp to Taehyung’s shoulder, glad for excitement out of the realm of files and spreadsheets. Taehyung, surprised by the eager response, can only seem to nod along to the spew that falls from Jimin’s lips that near miles per minute. “Are you interested? I’d be happy to show you our collection.”

“This could take a while,” Jeongguk is startled by the presence of Namjoon somehow closer than before. Jimin is still spouting about his work to his potential client, Jeongguk takes in Taehyung’s features in search of a signal for help, but only finds him painted with interest and intrigue at the bundle of knowledge that is Park Jimin. Namjoon gestures to a hall along the far wall, a couple of paintings half crooked beckoning them forth. “We can talk about those tattoos if you’re interested?”

The buzz that surges in the cavity of his chest is answer enough, companied with the vigorous nod of his head, curls bouncing against the frame of his cheeks. “That would be great!”

Namjoon easily falls into the roll of guide, leading the two down the hall and past a couple of doors tightly sealed. The walls are a dark shade, set aglow by the heat of fixtures hanging overhead. Even in the dim setting, Jeongguk finds his head swiveling in every direction, thirsting to take in every inch of the place. In his haste he nearly trips over a section of flooring slightly raised, likely the result of settled foundation over many years. He decides rather quickly in favor of the building, the character of the interior clashing rather nicely with the updated signage on the outside.

‘We’ve got a few different stations for working,” Namjoon speaks up, drawing Jeongguk’s attention back. “We do them in the section off the side of the lobby if the customer is comfortable and it’s nothing major, but we also have private rooms that we as the artists like to use depending on the project.”

“That’s what these rooms are?” Jeongguk reaches with a pointed finger, tracing the expanse of the wooden frame, chipped and roughened, to a closed door. Rather than plaquing to decipher between the various enclosures there are framed sketches posted outside of each, nothing a newcomer like himself could pick up on, clearly contributed by the owners.

“For the most part, there’s my office and Y/n’s, and a storage closet but this is where the magic happens.” Namjoon allows Jeongguk a path to his office, door shutting in their wake with a dull thud.

It’s less decorated than Jeongguk was expecting, the barely bare walls outside of the office building up the anticipation of the canvas that must be spread within. Instead there’s nothing put bright white, almost blinding compared to what he’s seen so far. There are a few framed photos of Jimin, himself, and you; all smiling in various scenarios of glee. Other than the placement of a decently sized shelf in the corner and the desk perched along the adjacent wall this office gives no indication of Namjoon’ s labyrinthine line of work.

Even so, Namjoon appears highly intimidating as he takes a seat at his desk, gesturing Jeongguk to the comfortable chair across. Jeongguk is well aware that he doesn’t mean to give the impression of a boss, straight backed and fingers laced over mahogany, but that doesn’t make it any less so.

“So!” Namjoon speaks with triumph, his gauntlet the toss of the pen that had previously dangled from the fold of pierced ears. “You have any idea what you’re looking for in the ink department? I figure we can start with graphics and then discuss placement to see who the best fit would be for you.”

“Best fit?” Jeongguk leans forward, boots squeaking obscenely on the tile beneath. His cheeks flush at lack of knowledge, feeling as if the words spewed were foreign when in reality it was a jolt sent to the creases of his spine and straight to the red soaked appendage in his upper chest. While he’s entered this room with the assumption that Namjoon would be his sole artist, there lay a chance that the two of you will come face to face.

“Yeah, Y/n and I are both good at what we do but of course we both have our specialties. So we like to decide our clients that way sometimes.” Namjoon’s explanation leaves him none the wiser to hidden meanings and the hopeful perk of Jeongguk’s shoulders.

“Oh. I haven’t met Y/n yet,” He wonders if you rest behind one of the many doors leading to this one, sketching away on what he’s sure can only be a masterpiece. “Is she around?”

“Yeah...I don’t wanna disturb her though. Maybe she’ll be in the lobby when we’re finished here.” Namjoon’s words are sincere though his eyes seem to drift far off, their target the window over Jeongguk’s shoulder, shadowed by the growth of a large tree, branches dwarfing the ground outside. His trance is but a moment, focusing once more on the man before him. “What did you have in mind for your tattoo?”

“Well, actually, I was wondering if you guys use the tebori method here? I know it’s more widely used in japan, but I don’t really see myself heading over there anytime soon.” This shop isn’t the first that Jeongguk has scoped in hope of an artist with an extra element of technique, the buildup for disappointment resting in a rehearsed expression. He watches the myriad of expressions that Namjoon cycles through, almost as if the answer rests against the tip of his tongue, but he’s unsure if it’s the correct one. “It’s totally fine if—”

“We do.” He speaks without much expression save for the way his spine seems to cave inward as he continues to think. Jeongguk isn’t sure whether he should continue speaking, choosing instead to study the tilt of a pen on the desk, threatening to roll to the floor if it dances any longer at the edge of the surface. His nerves itch to grab for the object for some form of reprieve, afraid that the pending clatter will disturb Namjoon’s steady concentration and perhaps the calm mask that he appears to be sporting.

His head tilts a tad, curls falling over one pupil, the other spying Namjoon as if zeroing in on a target, nearly scrutinizing the pensive thinking with his galaxy gaze. He can see that just past the roof of Namjoon’s head there lies a single divot in the wall, nearly tricking the bump of accidental furniture, but Jeongguk’s own fist clenches in recognition, thumb tracing the jag of his knuckles.

“Y/n is the only person here that can tattoo with that particular technique, she’s amazing at it really, I’m just not sure if she’ll be up for it right now.” Namjoon’s words seem to pain him to utter, a strained longing in his voice that’s indecipherable without context. Jeongguk only nods along, curiosity curbed by his unyielding sense of etiquette in a situation that doesn’t wholly concern him. His feet are already pressing against the flooring, prepared to push to his feet and exchange pleasantries and assurance of no hard feelings, but Namjoon doesn’t seem quite through, leaving Jeongguk’s position to an awkward one hanging from the edge of his seat. “I don’t wanna speak for her though, so maybe you two can talk.”

“Okay, should I set up an appointment?”

“No, I think I heard her leave her office, she’ll probably be in the lobby. I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you now.” Namjoon’s mouth is once again split in dimpled grin, leaving Jeongguk’s head to a spinning akin to a child’s top. He’s led from the room, paying extra attention to the hall, ears itching to pick up a tone much higher than those in the lobby he left only a short time ago.

Contrary to Namjoon’s inference, the lobby is emptier than when they left, Jimin and Taehyung the only ones left milling about. Their speech mimics old friends, Jimin poking at Taehyung with the smile of someone who knows something that no one else does, Taehyung simply replying in kind with half grin.

“I thought I heard, Y/n.” Namjoon directs his voice at Jimin, fingers tapping the surface of his desk whilst his eyes take inventory of the shop. Jeongguk wonders if he thinks you’re hiding behind one of the plants situated in the corner, waiting for the perfect moment to catch them off guard.

“Mm, she left. But not before this one got his flirt on,” Jimin’s elbow catches Taehyung’s rib with a sharp jab coloring his words. Taehyung doesn’t allow this to phase him, standing to his feet with a shrug of nonchalance.

“Not flirting, we just happen to know each other. You done here?” He aims at Jeongguk stepping with purpose toward the door. Neither makes eye contact, the subject of interest not particularly left to the category of unmentionable, but leaving them both awkward and stiff.

“Uh, I think so.” Jeongguk slants so that Namjoon is well in his sights, already typing vigorously on his phone screen. “Should I schedule something or…?”

“Don’t worry about it, I have your number so I’ll just have Y/n give you a call to see when you guys meet.”

Jeongguk stands a moment longer, his toes tapping to the leather roof of boots so chunky they seem to swallow him from toe to ankle, the footwear attempting to take from his lengthy form and failing miserably. He turns mid-step when Taehyung slaps lightly at the sleeve of his jacket, urging him to step beyond the threshold. He lifts his arm to half wave, mumbling pleasantries, barely audible of the steps that echo in his ears with each pace onto the desolate sidewalk.

Jeongguk heads toward his own shop, missing the realization of the lack of paired steps with his own. Several paces behind him, a subtle guilt dressing the plains of his cheeks, Taehyung tugs at the wear of half chapped lips, wondering if the broach of a hazy subject is necessary. He catches Jeongguk easily with a jog, nearly stilling him mid-stride but saved from the extra physicality by the passing of a car.

“You know...Jimin was just joking.” Jeongguk’s brows lift, clearly only just catching sight of his constant companion, his own thoughts carrying him along the street without a wayward glance. His eyes widen, unsure of Taehyung’s intentions or the direction of the current topic. “About Y/n, I mean. I don’t really know her and we don’t flirt.”

“Wouldn’t matter if you did.”

“Yeah, sure. It’s just—look I know you saw her the other day and I’m willing to bet the only reason you haven’t mentioned that you’re intrigued is because you thought she was dating Jimin.” Taehyung treads, careful to avoid the gaze of reddened cheeks, Jeongguk’s hand raising to a nudge at his soft lobe, the other clenching and unclenching in denim blue, nails scratching the rough of fabric with each clasp. “Well clearly they’re not dating, so it wouldn’t be a bad thing if you did like her is all I’m saying.”

“Like I said, I don’t really know her. I think she’s cute, from a distance anyways, but I don’t think that’s any reason for a declaration.” The gentle tick of the crosswalk draws Jeongguk's attention on the present path to the opposing side of the street, ignoring the gentle tick of his chest.

A shining beacon in a sea of monotony. The words that filtered like a mantra, dressing the walls of his clogged brain, overflowing from files and dancing with the fires in tipped bins. Taehyung’s words extinguish the licking flames, if only momentarily, with meticulous reassurance.

A pocket of vibration, dark and clinging to his chilled skin, is notification for incoming correspondence. His steps skip, tripping along asphalt, saved only by the subtle grasp of a steady hand. His thanks are dropped without hesitation, hand slipping from fabric confines with the heavily encased lifeline pulsing with power.

From: Unknown [ 2:25pm]~is this jeongguk? namjoon gave me your number, said you need a consult?

From: Me[ 2:26pm]~yea...this is y/n im guessing?

His eyes pierce the screen, undressing the words with precision, ensuring he doesn’t make a fool in reply. He wasn’t prepared for the quick interception of the conversation he’s still processing, inner workings too focused on what’s straight ahead, not minutely prepared for Namjoon's speedy deliverance.

From: Unknown [ 2:30pm]~ding ding ding. im pretty much free whenever, so let me know what works with you and we can meet to discuss what you need and whether im the person for the job

From: Me[ 2:33pm]~ how about tomorrow around this time?

From: Unknown [ 2:34pm]~ cool. let’s meet at the park around the corner

And now, he waits.

~*~

The first thing you noticed was his approach, a confidence in his stride yet eyes that tried and failed to hide the glisten of steady orbs and the kiss of wind landing atop the surprising density of his cheeks like the piling of new snow. Your legs were crossed at the ankle, bare skin grazed by the cool of grass half dried by the desert chill, hands gripping the accumulation of sleeve inched to the open of your palm whilst your lips curved in mimic at the pout of his own, unintentional but perfectly protruding with the tracking of your steady tilt.

If one were to ask about the slight tremor in your hand or the subtle inch across inches between, you would fail to mention the metaphorical personality of your pulsing appendage and the ooz of liquid red abandoning the organ overflowed to trace the expanse of veins humming with the melodic string of laughter yet to abandon the space since he first spoke. You were immediately taken with soft speech and stolen glances, the professional tossed aside when you asked him to meet you, altogether forgotten when he said hello.

The pulsing was stunned only momentarily when he withdrew, hand disappearing into deep pockets to pose leather-bound pages and the hesitant stretch of muscles, the quick twitch of his neck the line of a rod, drawing you forward with each gentle reel of innocence. Now you sit, tangled in silent adoration, dripping admiration for the collaged pages, soaked in brilliance.

“These are yours?” You stroke the page with the ease of your pointer, his head tilting, hair framing, whilst he nods in a lopsided grin. You don’t notice the glue to your cheek, his eyes steady studying you while you study the glide of his hand with jet black against the white page.

He wonders if you catch the nerves, the steady vibration of his unsteady palms, gentle leap of muscled thigh and the brush of your leg with each accidental inch closer. The proximity did him in, your face from a distance only a picture on a page, face to face giving him the overwhelming sensation of the walk through a gallery filled with seven wonders, their spectacle meaningless without the promise of you.

He pretended for a moment, between laughter and brushes of innocence that he’s known you a lifetime, the thought only pulling at his metaphorical strings because he wishes he had. Your voices echo is sure to leave him wide eyed and ceiling bound for nights to come, imagining the galaxy as you, white expanse the only thing keeping from the grip he so wishes he could establish on the slip of your time here.

He knows it’s insanity, thoughts that won’t leave him be, the closeness driving him further to the edge. It’s the reason for his transition to the journal, the reason you’re perched in the grass with the whipping wind and dead leaves skirting around you.

“It’s just some ideas I have, I jot them down so I don’t forget. I was hoping we could work on them, flesh them a bit more…” Your gaze leaves the page, magic dwindling a sum, aghast at the audacity in his words. You withdraw, clenching fists to rationalize the wait for rejection on your behalf.

“Why me? I mean, you’ve seen Namjoon’s work, he’s great.”

“He said that you’re skilled in the tebori method. I’d like them to be done in that style and not many people can. Plus, I’ve seen your work too, it’s just as amazing.” Jeongguk notes the deflation, not unaware of Namjoon’s warning. He’s tempted to pry, but reverses hoping to stumble upon neutral territory, already missing the strain of your muscles in smile. “But obviously it’s only if you’re comfortable. I don’t mean to put you on the spot.”

“You’re not, I just...can I think about it? I know that’s so incredibly unprofessional of me but—”

“Take as long as you need.” Jeongguk decides immediately he doesn’t need an explanation, that your rumination is the promise of another rendezvous, high hopes lifting him over the horizon of the midday sun, skin aching for the glow of golden hour.

You already know you’ll say yes, outright rejection never an option, the flicker of expression alight in your left receptacle more than reason to feel him once more. The physical is through the page, but the metaphorical is the connection of souls, the cliché of one person and the hope of renewed ardor.

“I promise I won’t be long…” The words hang, heavy in the air between and with more meaning than your intent. You’re led away by the weight of obligation, required assistance from Jimin to cover the desk, legs like infant limbs after an hour unmoving.

Jeongguk follows suit, still chewing the words before spewing his own right back. The same weight and familiarity in his soft deliverance.

“I’ll be waiting.”

And now, you climb.

~*~

“How was your date?” Jimin is already setting up his station, eyes not sparing a glance, concentration wholly reserved. His vibration is palpable, though you don’t immediately notice, the feeling still finding stringed limbs when you reach your seat behind the desk.

“I was meeting a client,” You speak hollow and unconvincing, the magic coursing through your veins begging to differ. Wonder is silent, eyes latching to the single eye muraled to the wall, imagining it to glisten like Sirius reflecting in the night sky, musing how one day could build a coherency of such magnetism yet still be held at arm’s length.

“Oh really? It’s just that, I never meet my clients at the park...” His voice is a hum, settling an array of options for the post pierce browse. “—it’s certainly a bonus that said client is very handsome and already seems pretty interested.”

“You’ve never even seen us in the same room, I just met him today.”

“Whatever. I assume he’ll be coming around a lot more.”

Your fingers grasp the nearest instrument, ballpoint clicking in time with the tap of your toe against the leg of the chair. “I don’t know if I’m gonna agree. I don’t want him to be disappointed in the result.”

“I know you think you’re old news, but the fact that you didn’t say no is reason enough. There’s clearly a part of you that wants to, so why not take the plunge?”

“I can’t say yes just because I feel some strange attraction to him. That would be inappropriate,” Your mind barely registers the entrance of figure three, a client you presume, the sign-in ledger already halfway across the desk when Jimin speaks again.

“So you are attracted to him?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Yes you did,” Your pen clatters, nimble fingers swooping it in your absence, Taehyung’s smirk a playful gleam to counter your startled posture. He greets Jimin as an old friend, the two waiting for you to catch up, the slouch of your spine and the configuration of the scene pulling you back into the current take.

“You’re the one getting a piercing?” Wheels push the foundation, abandoning the desk in favor of the plush leather Taehyung has already sunken into. You believe he feels at home, the decorative jewelry already hanging from his lobes the badge of a pierced veteran.

“Yeah, I figure it’s time to expand my collection.” His hand brushes the lengthy edges of his dark locks, leaving ample space for Jimin to reach his target, the depth of his gaze landing on your arch over the chair’s arm. “I’m assuming your meeting went well?”

“What do you know about my meeting?”

“Why do you think I was here yesterday? The piercing was just a bonus,” He pokes at the tray beside him, the light smack of Jimin’s hand drawing him back to the confines of his lounge. You try to connect dots lost in the fray of day to day. Taehyung is not entirely new to you though still unfamiliar, but you don’t recall the mention of Jeongguk during his earlier visits.

“So you guys know each other then?” Your disbelief finds Jimin, his hand’s busied with extra sanitation and his lips focusing hard to keep his face straight. “I’m assuming I’m simply the last to know, okay then.”

“It’s just circumstance really, I’m the one who came to your door, you were in your office when we came here yesterday and he was in Namjoon’s office when you came out. I promise he wasn’t avoiding you, quite the opposite actually.” You’re too intrigued for embarrassment, your attention handed tenfold to Taehyung, his head slightly tilted while Jimin readies to pierce him.

As of late the stench of disinfectant would trigger a memory you were fighting hard to shield from the surface, but the idea of not knowing more of Taehyung drives it from your mind, currently on one track and unwavered by anything that’s not Jeongguk. Even so, there’s a haze, or perhaps the attempt of common sense forcing you to look past the filter of brights to truly grasp reality.

“We’d never met before today, how could he possibly be looking for me?”

“We actually saw you a few days ago, before you and I officially met. You and Jimin were leaving the shop and he seemed pretty distracted by you, but he thought you two were dating.” Your laughter emits in breathy sighs, muddled by the fluttering in your abdomen, Jimin’s lips smug, shoulders rounded.

“Easy mistake, we’d make a cute couple.” It would be a fib to deny that it’s the first time it’s been thought that you and Jimin were more than friends. His neighbors foolishly believe your late nights are spent anywhere save for the couch, silver screen glaring back at your glued lids.

You watch Jimin work, ignoring the bore of Taehyung’s eyes, his focal point to ignore the sharp sting of the needle. He barely flinches, your own body lurching in slight when the needle meets puffed skin. His hand clasps your wrist, pulling you closer, examining the bare skin in earnest.

“You don’t have any tattoos...none that I can see at least.” He notices, jumping to your eyes and back to your arm. He leans forward when Jimin steps away, gathering his studded collection of earrings, reflecting with golds and silver. “That’s pretty interesting considering you give them to other people for a living.”

“Astute observation. I do not have any tattoos visible or otherwise.” Taehyung kisses his teeth, easily opting for a pair reminiscent of chains. You look for judgement, but there’s none in his study of the colorful space, just a curiosity he’s not sure he should breach. “I’ve always wanted one, but I was too scared. Ridiculous but true.”

“Scared of needles?”

“At first maybe. Scared of the permanence of it all. It feels like such a big responsibility, to me at least, to decide what to get tattooed and I’ve never gotten to a point where I could just do it.” You think back to pages bound by leather with frightening immediacy, the conviction with which the they screamed at you almost haunting if not for the beauty of it. Chilling in the details of sketches, moments in time grasped so eloquently. A part of you is certainly jealous, but the other part is so irrevocably drawn to depth and desire. “Hey, Taehyung, is Jeongguk still at his shop by chance?”

“Actually I’m supposed to be meeting him for ice cream after this so he might already be there.” He pulls his device from his jacket, squinting at the screen, thumb gliding in swiftness. “You guys should come!”

“Oh we don’t wanna—”

“I’m in, I’ve been craving a good scoop,” Jimin leaves no room for disagreement, his limbs already at full speed to hurry cleaning his station. “We don’t have any clients and Namjoon is out of town for the day, so I think we’re good to close up. Plus, you can tell Jeongguk you’ll take him on.”

“I never said I would,” You slide back into your jacket, tucking your limbs into the sleeves. The sky has darkened significantly since the dusting of rays that splashed your skin as you sprawled the grass barely an hour earlier.

“You never said you wouldn’t.” The two are like stooges, already mastering the collaborative effort to challenge you.

“Have fun with your ice cream, I’m, hopefully, going home to a heated apartment.”

~*~

Jin has been talking to Jeongguk since he entered, the recognition of the new young entrepreneur on the strip catching his attention without pause. He’s a nice guy, his energy something Jeongguk would appreciate on any given day, but he was hoping for a moment of collection before Taehyung arrived.

He’s stuck on a blur, the low heat of his skin and the canals of his ears, yearning for the vibration of laughter and soft words spoken beneath the breeze. It was easy and good, an hour lost, an hour found. He would’ve laid there in the grass for hours after your departure were in not for the chill that crept in so easily without you beside him.

He wonders if it was a mutual feeling or if your reaction was just polite, a business tactic. No. Not you, you’re not the type to pretend, he knows even if he doesn’t know. Your sincerity was like a sickness, spilling from your every crevice, pouring out with your every phrase. He’s sure even you don’t notice the significant way you carry yourself, impossible to turn away from.

“Hey, Jin, talking Jeongguk’s ear off I see.” Jeongguk breaks his stare from where it concentrated on the ink already eating his skin, Jimin standing over the booth with Taehyung chuckling beside him. “Maybe give him a break and take out order?”

“There’s a counter, Park Jimin, and—” Jin squints in the direction of the counter, a small line waiting for their treats of the frozen variety, though not many people are keen for the cold in the midst of winter. “—yup there’s definitely someone up there waiting just for you.”

“Ha ha, leave him alone, Jin, his mind is already occupied plenty.” Jin slides from the booth, Jimin immediately taking his place, Taehyung sliding in after him.

Jin feigns reluctance when Jimin recites his order, all around friendlier when Jeongguk and Taehyung do the same. Jimin turns his attention to the other side of the booth when Jin sidles off, already choosing his next target. “Where’s your head at?”

“Hm?”

“We just talked to Y/n, I hear your meeting went well, prospects are high. She seems interested,” Taehyung’s speech is backed with encouragement, Jeongguk’s lip quivering, but winning the fight against his impending smile, intent on not giving himself away too quickly.

“She said she’d think about it and I’m perfectly okay with that.” He thinks of your promise, the thoughts skirting past the surface for a sign, a signal that the more he feels is exactly the meaning behind your words. His rang true, he would wait and be content. He would be prepared to have you work as his artist and end things there, but the weight in his pocket and the recollection of your eyes doubled in size leaves room for the want of more.

“She seemed impressed with you,” Jimin adds, chin rested in his palm, reading for reaction. “The fact that she’s considering is a really good sign. For her and for you.”

“It all just felt really natural,” The two watch as Jeongguk’s eyes glaze over just thinking about the exchange. “Almost like we…”

He trails, face heating, his thoughts almost betraying him. He’s relieved when a server comes bearing dishes, thanking them aloud with pleasantry and inwardly for saving him from himself. The relief is short lived when two sets of eyes beam at him like he’s an amusement, waiting for him to continue.

“Almost like you…”

“Nothing, it’s really stupid. She’s really great, I’ll be lucky if she decides that I’m worth it.” He covers lamely, shoving his spoon past his lips, letting creamy vanilla coat his tongue and ease his mind.

“Trust me,” Jimin mumbles, swallowing his own hefty scoop. “She decided that the moment you sat down.”

~*~

It’s unclear what brought you to this stool some nights later, half buzzed and wondering if you’ll have to call Jimin to drag you home. Your mind hasn’t completely fogged, liquor light with mercy, heavy consequences no doubt pending for the morning to come. A break, you’d decided, hands and knees stained with product, trying in vain to work the stain from your carpet, the smudge faint but not enough to miss your eye.

The crowd is surprising, though you wouldn’t know as you don’t often go to the place with the metaphorical bad stuff, your own brand of lunacy dancing in boxes lacing your cabinetry. You recall the draw of drinks from mugs and Jimin off-key when you’re sliding more bills than you prefer across the counter. Moving is without appeal, head to the counter the way to go.

“Hey, you okay?” The voice is familiar, worth the work to lift your head. Jeongguk looks down at you, his hand placed to the bar, eyes wide with concern.

His own stumbling through the door of the room with the dim lighting and the absurd amount of sports playing in every corner was boredom. Taehyung had plans and he was left alone to the drone of the television, the shop in need of a break from him. The dishes already glistening from his tenth wash despite the lack of use. A spot of dust enough to send him into a frenzy. From Jimin the name of the dive was briefly mentioned, in relation to what he couldn’t say, the topic never picking his brain from the moment it was first spoken.

Now he’s glad he wasn’t a horrible companion, the sight of you hunched over reason enough for his half listen. He notes your solitude immediately, drawn to the side of the bar rather than the thick of it all, two glasses empty before you.

“Jeongguk!” Your tone is uneven, eyes looking watered under the lights, your smile brightening in his eyes. He can’t help but to return, lowering into the stool so your faces are level. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“I just got here actually and I saw you so…”

“You came for me?” If you were less influenced the words would have remained nothing more than a thought, passing in a sea of others you could never muster courage to speak. Though you’re not sure that a post buzz reflection will make you wish they were any less materialized, the way his features soften like a fertilization for the growth of your thudding heart.

“I—yeah, I came for you. Are you ready to head home?”

“You don’t know where I live,” You say the words, knowing you’ll go anywhere with him even if he doesn’t. You let him guide you from your stool, his touch soft, never too much.

“You know, I’ve got a pretty good idea.”

~*~

He lingers outside of your door, adoring the small struggle you have with lock and key, about to lend a hand when your triumph catches him, arms lifting over your head, turning to him with a smile. “Come on!”

“You want me to come in?” Taehyung will be home soon and he has no way of explaining that he’s at your place that doesn’t involve some teasing on his best friend’s end of it, though it doesn’t matter when you latch on to the sleeve of his jacket and pull him past the threshold.

The biggest difference between your place and theirs is the lived-in aspect. He would say that it’s cute, but it’s too simple a word. It seems you prefer mood lighting, the flip of a switch igniting fairies strung to the base of the ceiling. It suits you, who’s already stumbling toward the kitchen expecting that Jeongguk is hot on your trail. The décor is simple, a few paintings on the wall, rugs and cozy furniture.

“I’m sorry if it’s cold in here, it’s always kind of cold in here,” You mutter, grabbing two mugs and giving life to your kettle. Jeongguk recalls that you were no longer in possession of your space heater, taken by Taehyung and himself and still unreturned. He debates running over to grab it, but your hand once more on his wrist, drags him to the sofa erasing the thought of walking out of that door. “Thanks for bringing me home, I promise I’m not that wasted. You don’t have to be so nervous.”

“No, I’m not nervous! Not because you were drinking anyways…”

“So you are nervous...why?”

“You make me nervous...in a good way!” He’s quick to regroup, noting the fall of your features, hating that it’s because of him. “It’s completely insane, but from the moment I saw you I…”

“Me too.” Jeongguk’s previously averted gaze rushes to meet you, already staring back. He doesn’t need to ask what you mean, confident that what you feel is what he feels. Confident that it doesn’t matter how insane it may sound. “It’s so crazy, but when I saw you yesterday something just clicked and I thought maybe it’s because you’re ridiculously attractive but then we talked and it was so natural.”

“I’m glad it wasn’t just me,” He takes a chance, hand sliding to yours, resting against your thigh. Your fingers tangle without stutter, the position meant to be, so full of warmth and understanding. “I saw you with Jimin a few days ago, I couldn't stop staring."

So long is spent staring, enjoying each other and the mutual affection that's like an aura engulfing you.

"Where exactly do we go from here?” Jeongguk tugs at his bottom lip, another quality that fills you with warmth.

“Why are you opening a tea shop?”

“What?”

“We’re practically strangers, I don’t even know your last name actually. So, if there’s some weird predestined love at first sight phenomenon going on here, I’d like to know everything about you before we proceed.” You click, smile a contagious thing, one that Jeongguk would be remiss not to embrace wholeheartedly. “So why a tea shop?”

“Well first, my last name is Jeon—”

“Jeon Jeongguk…” He watches you test the words against your tongue. “Cute. You’re cute.”

“Anyways,” He blushes. “I’ve always loved making tea. I learned it at a young age and then I started experimenting and decided that this is what I wanna do. I figured focusing on boba would draw more people in, but I also wanna expand on what I already know.”

“Well if anything, Hoseok will be there at least twice a day.”

“What about you?”

“I think I can make time, though you are really out of the way I might not be able to swing it.”

“I’ll pick you up, or better yet I can just bring it right to you,” He offers, amused but truthful. “No, but I mean how did you get into tattooing, and how did you learn tebori?”

“Ah…” Your eyes find one of the frames hanging nearest the window, a landscape that Jeongguk can barely make out aside from the distance of neon. “Well, I was studying abroad actually, in Japan. I was an art history major and I didn’t really know what I wanted to do so I thought getting away would help me figure it out.”

You think often about the day when your current occupation seemed so foreign, your adolescence always filled with imaginings of galleries under curation, days filled with frames and packed schedules.

“One of my classmates convinced me to go out with her one night because she wanted a tattoo and I wanted one too, so I didn’t really see why I shouldn’t go. She got hers first, a flower I think, and while I was watching the artist I was just blown away by the technique.”

“Tebori?”

“Mmhm, of course I’d seen the regular ink and needle, but this just seemed to me something on a deeper level and I fell in love with it. It’s probably the most insane thing I’ve done to date, but I finished my degree abroad and stayed in Japan to learn and now I’m here.”

“Why’d you come back?”

“It just felt like it was time...sometimes I wish I hadn’t or that I could go back to visit. Like it’ll remind me what it felt like in the beginning, make me feel like less of a failure. I'd actually get my tattoo.”

“You’re not a failure, we just have patches sometimes. You’ll figure it out, we’ll figure it out.” The steam of the kettle startles from the moment you're quick to exit to the stove, mulling words and recovering from the embarrassment of exposure over the steaming water. “You know, I don’t have tea so I hope hot chocolate is okay?”

“It’s perfect,” Jeongguk accepts his mug and the packet of mix, stirring it in time with his breathing. He’s left to the obvious blushing of his cheeks, musing his circumstance, sharing a drink with the perfect anomaly. He’s ignored the constant stream of vibration from his pocket, no interest in removing himself from the cozy bubble. “So this place is pretty shitty, I would know and I’ve only lived here about a week. Why do you stay here?”

“You live here? Wait...you and Taehyung are roommates, duh sorry. I’m still trying to catch up.”

“Yeah, thanks for the space heater by the way. I’m pretty sure I would’ve given in the first night if I had to sleep in the cold.”

“Ha! No worries, sometimes I do give in and I stay over at Jimin’s place. But I’m just not ready to let this place go yet, I guess. It’s not great, but change is hard and I’ve been here for so long.”

You're close along the counter, space invaded without invitation, gravitation controlling your every step. The rest of the night follows suit, closeness and appeal. You enjoy words and laughter, ignoring the possibility of the responsibility the next day alludes.

Somehow you find yourselves in your bed, faces close and bodies tucked beneath the thick duvet. You're glad the heat isn’t working tonight, Jeongguk wrapped around you like a boa, slowly falling into the depths of unconsciousness, the conversation lulling with each random topic. Your throat is strained from laughter and your brain is filled with more than it thought possible.

Inches are now centimeters and you’re snails inching toward the finish, certain but uncertain if the light of day will change the result of your exchange.

The morning following you wake much the same as you slept, tangled, breaths mingling between. Jeongguk is still snoring, blissfully unaware of the authoritative knock echoing from your front door. Hands pushing at your eyes, feet tingling against the cold flooring, you swing the door with an annoyance you’re prepared to unleash before you’re met with Taehyung.

His eyes are half frantic, neck craning to see around you.

“Taehyung?”

“Hey, I’m sorry to bother you, but have you seen Jeongguk? I’ve been trying to reach him since last night and he’s not answering.”

“O-oh...um he’s here, let me get him,” You mumble, allowing Taehyung, his eyes softening and features squinted, to step inside. You leave him standing in the living room, ignoring the knowing smirk, head bowed as you step into your bedroom.

You regret the gentle shove of his shoulders, and the hushed “wake up” that slowly but surely draws Jeongguk from his sleep. He looked peaceful, full of youth with his eyes stapled and breath steady rising and falling. His eyes are puffy when he raises, confusion laced features recalling that he wasn’t in his own home.

His arm extends, patting your side of the bed, unaware that you were the reason for premature awakening. “Hey sleepy head.”

“What are you doing up?” He finds your hand, grabbing hold in an attempt to pull you back to bed. Though you would be more than willing, Taehyung is sure to have heaps to say already, no reason to add fuel to the fire already blazing in his pupils.

“Taehyung is here,” That catches his attention, eyes darting to the door half open. “He said he’s been trying to reach you. He’s waiting in the living room, I’m sorry if you didn’t want him to know you’re here, I panicked.”

“No it’s fine,” He assures, sliding from the bed, the same chill that ate you catching him with bare feet. You follow him back out to Taehyung, who’s taken it upon himself to peruse the space, currently examining the coffee table with it’s day old mugs. “Hey, I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you.”

Looking between the two of you, your hand finding habit at Jeongguk’s shoulder, he shrugs. “No biggie, just thought you might be in a ditch or something. Turns out I was very wrong, so I’ll leave you to it.”

“I’ll just come with you, I should probably shower and change. I’ve got some stuff to take care of before the opening. I can’t believe it’s only a couple months away.” You drop your hand, leaving him to it, an awkward and unsure feeling settling in your stomach. It’s clear that Jeongguk is a bit embarrassed, not that you’re own emotions haven’t caused the sting of a heat in your cheeks. You wait for him to follow Taehyung, who’s already waved goodbye, hands in his pockets as he stalks away.

Jeongguk isn’t so quick, turning to your ground bound pupils, fingers drifting to the trace of your jaw and nudging you to greet him. You’re taken by the lack of hesitation when his lips meet yours in kiss, short and sweet, altogether unexpected. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” You coo, fingers brushing his cheek gingerly, rewarded with one more peck before Taehyung is groaning in the hallway, effectively tearing Jeongguk from you to catch up.

~*~

You’re warm, for the first time in a long time you’re warm, from your chest to your veins, head and toes, and it’s all because of Jeon Jeongguk. His departure wasn’t the last of him, the next few months full of meetings planned and spontaneous, your phone alight with too many notifications, every one taken in with the same adoring smile and your own obsessed response.

You would stop by Hoseok’s blessing him with a coffee, happily listening to his rambling about the horrendous new flavor Jin had him and Yoongi test the other night. Across the street you could just see Jeongguk through the window, lips pulled in concentration, pen scribbling on the pad in front of him. Though it was cute, you couldn’t help but to attempt to cheer him up, his eyes immediately finding you after he’s read the little note sent to his phone.

You would be sick with yourself if you were the one to witness the affection radiating from your expanse, but you couldn’t care less how many times Jimin fake gags or the small lecture you endure when Yoongi delivers flowers later in the day. You hold on to the feeling and you hope that it feels like this all the time.

“What are you working on?” Namjoon steps into your office, no other reason than his own boredom swallowing him whole, much like the cushions when he collapses into your sofa.

“Just some of Jeongguk’s sketches…” You noticed rather quickly the familiar book resting on your bedside table after your first night together, no doubt placed by Jeongguk before sleep could find him. You spent the morning getting to know his art better, so you could try to make it exactly what he wanted. You only just got around to transferring the sketches to your own notebook, hoping to have something to show him at his opening.

“He’s really good for you. I haven’t seen you this eager about sketching in a while.”

“You think so?”

“What, you don’t?”

“No, I just...I don’t want you to think I’m completely insane for jumping into this so suddenly. I mean, I think it’s insane that I could be so completely sure about someone so quickly and I think the world of you, so I don’t want you to be disappointed…”

He laughs, whole hearted laughter fills your office and you’re not positive how you should respond. Your hands are unsteady on your pen, ready for him to completely crush your soul, back to the same girl standing in his doorway all those years ago.

“Honestly, you give me way too much credit.”

“What do you mean?”

“The night that you showed up, I was wondering how I was even gonna keep this place open. The building wasn’t the most friendly looking, most people walked right past, the outside giving them the impression that the inside was just as decrepit,” He sighs, head supported by the arm of the chair, eyes holding the ceiling in place. “When you showed up I was seconds away from telling you to get lost, then you handed me your sketches and you looked so hopeful. You were my last chance, so really I should be thanking you for being so spontaneous, especially if it means you’re happy.”

“Wow, why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“I didn’t want to put more pressure than you already put on yourself. Plus, it doesn’t really matter now, does it? We’re doing pretty good, and that’s what’s important.”

The revelation is a motivation, your grip on the pencil tightening, strokes light and even on the page. Namjoon doesn’t say much more, silent inspiration while he falls into slumber, the only reason he ever finds himself meandering into your space.

“Knock knock,” Jeongguk peers around the corner, your finer flying to your lips, the other gesturing toward Namjoon, dozing peacefully. “Sorry, does he do that a lot?”

“Oh yeah, he pretends he wants to know what I’m up to then he’s out like a light before I’ve finished speaking.”

“I’ll have to try it sometime—”

“Watch it,” You warn playfully, sneakily closing your notebook so he can’t see. “What’s up? I figured you would be too busy filling orders for little ole me.”

“Never, and I want you to try this! I was thinking I could add it to the special menu. I know everyone is into the whole lemonade with boba thing which we do offer but I was trying to make a tea that’s more on the fruity side than the tea side because I know some people are put off by the tea taste, ya know?” He watches you uncomfortably closely, your face trained to be as neutral as possible while flavors explode, traveling to opposing ends of your mouth, battling it out, but ultimately left with no winner.

“You know, I appreciate the thought and I’m sure if you work on it some more it’ll be perfect but…”

“It’s disgusting.” He finishes for you sighing in defeat, collapsing in the chair across from you.

“No!” You round the desk, his arms ready to accept your slide into his lap. “It’s not disgusting, it’s just...not quite blended yet.”

He takes the to-go cup, sipping his own concoction. You wonder if he tried it at all before running over here, his habit of trusting your initial judgement extremely endearing, but unnecessary. It stems only from your admittance that you weren’t the biggest tea drinker and that you’re one of those lemonade with the boba people. His mission became clear, he couldn’t stand to see you walk into his shop knowing that you’ll be leaving with sugared lemons squeezed into juice. He has to make you the perfect tea if it’s the last thing he does.

He was set on making it for the opening, but to no avail, the sign flipped, his employees brewing away, his drop here only partially out of the necessity for his favorite taste tester. “It’s disgusting,” He decides immediately, fighting the urge to spit it back into the cup. “You have to stop being so nice to me, it’s cute, but I want you to yell at me like you yell at Jimin.”

“I don’t yell at Jimin!”

“You yell at Jimin all the time, lovingly, but there are voices raised.” Namjoon rubs at his eyes, tugging at the shirt riding at his abdomen. “We goin for tea or what? I swear people are gonna think we’re out of business with how often we close early.”

"Yeah, can you just give us a minute?" You try your best to be discrete, nodding toward the notebook on your desk.

"Yeah...Jimin and I will just meet you there." He leaves you, door clicking in his wake and you turn to Jeongguk with a ready grin, eyes wide with excitement.

"Is this one of those things where I should knock everything off of your desk? If so I'm down, but this is a weird time…"

"No! I have a surprise for you." You pull his journal from it's position beneath the stacks of paper on your desk. "You left this at my place your first night over."

"I've been looking for this! I was embarrassed to tell you I lost it, but it turns out you're a klepto." He teases, taking hold of the pages. "So you decided to hold it hostage?"

"I wasn't holding it hostage, I was working on…" You lift your sketchbook, flipping to the appropriate page. "These."

They aren't complete, but you want his first impression and suddenly you understand the tea thing. It's a radically different medium, your shared art actually pending ink on his body, but you don't want to go too far only to disappoint. He leans against the desk, not speaking, just staring, expressionless.

"If you don't like them we can talk about what you want changed, I just tried to make something I thought would fit what you've already got going."

He finally looks up, eyes glistening, your stomach doing flips. You're too afraid to ask what he's thinking, so you continue to wait, hoping he'll speak up soon and that you didn't insult him with your vision.

"I love them."

"Really? You don't have to worry about hurting my feelings, it's your body you know."

"Really, you're amazing. This is better than I could've hoped and I can't wait until it's permanent." His words are firm with sincerity, notebook laid to the side in favor of pulling you into his arms. "How am I supposed to compete? I can't even make tea for you."

"Relax, your tea is perfectly fine! I just enjoy the occasional lemonade. Come on, we'll go to the shop, you can make me whatever you want and I'll love it."

"Deal, but...I-we have a surprise for you as well."

"For me?"

"Yeah, I was talking with the guys the other day, we were talking about you..."

"You and the guys? This should be good."

"It is, I promise." He produces an envelope from his pocket, no scrawl on the outside, more mystery than you're ready for. “I was thinking about what you said that first night, about wanting to remember what it was like in the beginning.”

“What did you do?” You tear into the envelope, fingers moving so slowly you fear the skin will catch in the thin edges. What you pull is far from what you imagined, a ticket printed blue for a week’s time. Jeongguk stares at you expectantly, waiting for some form of reaction, but you’re not sure what to say. “This is a plane ticket…”

“Yeah, to Japan. We want you to go back and we knew you wouldn’t do it unless we planned it for you.”

“You guys didn’t have to.”

“We wanted to, I wanted to. The way your eyes lit up talking about that time in your life, I would do anything to give that to you again. So we want you to go to Japan, do something for you.” His lips land on your forehead, breathing you in while you process the unexpected gift. It’s more than you could ever imagine, but there’s a single string, dangling with uncertainty. You figure the only way to eliminate it is to pull full force, risk sounding ridiculous.

“What about you?” Jeongguk’s face scrunches in confusion, the inquiry the last thing he expected. His thoughts were far from himself, not naive enough to think his mind would be focused anywhere but you while you’re gone, but never thinking it would be a reason you’re unsure about going. “I don’t mean to sound stupid, but I’d miss you too much.”

“You can call me everyday, any time of day. I’ll be there, you don’t have to worry about me not being here waiting for you.”

“Or...you could come?”

“Oh, you want me to? I figured you’d want to do your own thing, not have me weighing you down.” Your arms find his waist, head resting against his chest, giggling at the prospect of Jeongguk being anything more than a comforting presence.

“Of course I want you to, I wanna show you everything.”

“I’ll have to figure things out with the shop, but—”

“Oh, wow I’m so selfish. Of course you can’t just drop everything to come with me, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.” You shake your head, silently scolding your inconsideration. Jeongguk grabs hold of your shoulders, stopping you mid step, hand halfway to smack your forehead.

“I would love to come, I just have to talk to Taehyung about it. I’m sure he wouldn't mind taking on a little more responsibility. Actually he’ll probably pack my bags for me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. I’ll probably have to catch a later flight, just to get things taken care of.” He thinks aloud.

“I think I can manage a few days on my own.”

“I promise I won’t be long.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

And now, we smile.

#bangtanuniversity #bangtanidx #bangtanarmynet #thebtswritersclub #jungkook x reader #jjk x reader #jeongguk x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #bts fluff #jjk fluff #bts au #jungkook au #bts s2l #jungkook s2l

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oikawaplssteponme · 3 years

Text

Incomparable Beauty

pairing: Izuku Midoriya x fem! reader

ratings/warnings: sfw, mention of insecurities

genre/AU: fluff, light academia (?) [i highly recommend imagining Izuku in light academia fashion, including some glasses ;) ], aged up characters [third-years]

word count: ~3.4K

synopsis: The young and talented photographer, Izuku Midoriya, is searching for a muse for his next entry in an art gallery. Of course, there seems to be one person who inspires him most of all.

a/n: hi hi <3 shoutout to my lovely 🍥 and ☕️ anons for requesting/helping me figure out this izuku fluff! i am really proud of this so i hope you all like it <3 reblogs are super helpful and id love to hear your thoughts on it. enjoy xx

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Izuku Midoriya looked up at the golden-pink sky. He stared into the abyss, hoping to think of something worth capturing. He adjusted the thin glasses that rested upon his face. He sighed and sat up, grabbing his notebook. Inside were hundreds of scribbles, sketches, and ideas that never seemed good enough. He looked to his right, where his camera laid. He wished that it could just take the pictures itself and create something jaw dropping. Still, a camera is nothing without a photographer. Furthermore, a photographer is nothing without a muse.

Izuku gathered his things as he headed back inside, making his way to his dorm. He was frustrated. He only had one week left to submit something into the Tokyo Gallery for Promising Artists, and even then it wasn't a guarantee that he would be selected. Maybe he should send an old piece he thought. He did have a few that he was proud of, but unfortunately, none of them fit the required theme of the gallery.

Izuke had his hands full as he attempted to open his dorm room door. You were making your way up the stairs when you spotted him. Izuku dropped his notebook, loose pages now scattered across the floor. You rushed over.

“Great…” he sighed. You quietly began to pick up the sheets of papers. Izuku froze.

“Midoriya, here,” you smiled, handing him his notebook. His cheeks flushed a rosy pink. He took his notebook back with shaky hands.

“Thank you Y/N.”

“Is all that for the gallery? I heard that you were entering,” you smiled. Izuku chuckled.

“It is but by the looks of it, I won’t be submitting anything. I still haven't come up with anything good enough,” he explained.

“Well don’t be too hard on yourself. I’m sure inspiration will strike you soon enough,” you reassured him, “you’re a brilliant photographer after all.”

Izuku's face was now a bright red. He laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his head.

“T-Thank you again. Well-uh- goodnight Y/N.”

“Goodnight Izuku.”

You walked away to your dorm as Izuku entered his own. He set all his things down and began to fan his burning face. He has known you for about three years now, yet he still can’t find the courage to get closer to you. You flustered him to no end, without even trying. Your voice, your smile, your laugh, your heart; Midoriya simply couldn’t get enough. You were so beautiful in all ways possible.

Midoriya looked at the printed flair pinned to his wall.

Those interested in applying to the Tokyo Art Gallery must follow the theme below in order to be considered.

The prompt read as follows:

‘Capture beauty in its purest form.’

Beauty, thought Izuku. Almost everything is beautiful. The way the sun rises and falls each day is beautiful. How Inko called Izuku every night at exactly 7:30 was beautiful. The friendships that Izuku cherished were beautiful. Then, there was you. Izuku’s mind couldn’t help but wonder to the thought of you in relation to beauty. Now you were truly beautiful.

Izuku soon had an idea.

The following day you found yourself sitting on one of the garden benches. Your classes were finished and you decided that some fresh air might do you some good. You basked in the warm sunlight, as if you were a precious flower that needed it to survive.

Izuku figured that you would be in the academy garden, so he made his way over there. His camera hung around his neck as he held tightly onto his notebook. With a shaky hand, Izuku tapped your shoulder.

“H-Hi Y/N,” he smiled nervously. You greeted him happily, gesturing for him to join you on the bench.

“Hi! Something wrong?” you questioned. Izuku looked like he was sick.

“Oh no, nothing’s wrong. I just-uh- wanted to ask you something…”

“Alright, what is it?”

Izuku set down his notebook next to his side. He held his hands together staring at them.

“Could I take your picture for the Tokyo Gallery?”

Your eyes widened at his request. The best and most handsome photographer in all of UA Academy of the Arts wanted to take your picture.

“You want to take a picture of me? I-I’m no model Izuku…”

“You’ll do great! I have this idea in my mind and it has to be with you.”

Now you were the nervous one. You weren’t one who particularly liked getting their picture taken.

“What if I mess it up? I’d hate to be the reason you don’t get accepted…”

“If those critics reject me, they’re just dumb. I promise it would have nothing to do with you. Please Y/N?” Izuku carefully took your hand with his and stared deep into your eyes. Gosh, how could you say no to him when he looked at you like that.

“Okay, I’ll do it,” you smiled. Izuku squeezed your hand and jumped up from where he sat.

“Thank you Y/N! I promise it will be perfect. Mind if we shoot tomorrow?”

“That sounds good to me.” Izuku smiled so brightly he outshined the sun. He grabbed his things once more.

“Meet me here at noon tomorrow. Try to wear a neutral colored shirt, okay?” he said. You nodded.

“Okay.”

Izuku ran off, leaving you alone in the garden. You soon felt a large pit in the bottom of your stomach.

You stood before the full length mirror of your dorm. You stepped closer to it, examining every detail of you being. A photoshoot? Not only that, but a photoshoot of just you. No way to hide behind anyone or fade into the background. It would be a picture of you. The pit in your stomach only grew. You stared into the mirror, almost hoping the reflection would change into someone else. Someone who would appear beautiful in an enlarged image. Certainly Izuku could’ve asked any other girl to be his model, but insisted that it had to be you. You didn’t understand why. You didn’t view yourself as beautiful in any form. So how could he?

It was close to noon and you should be heading to the garden to meet Izuku. You put on a neutral colored tank top as Izuku requested and finished applying some natural makeup. Your hands shook as you held the brushes. Hopefully your nerves would cease by the time you got to the garden.

Izuku had been setting up since early in the morning. He created a handmade crown of white baby’s breath for you to wear and arranged his backdrop. He set up his lighting and sun reflectors exactly where he wanted. You had been standing by one of the bushes for a few minutes, afraid to interrupt him. He was so in his element. The sleeves to his button down rolled up to his elbows. His dark sunglasses covering his eyes. His beige colored paints stained green at the hem from working in the grass, same with his off-white sneakers. You honestly thought he looked beautiful.

“Hi Izuku,” you said. Izuku jumped then turned to look at you.

“Oh Y/N you’re here, perfect! Y-You look great,” he smiled. Your face grew warm.

“Oh thank you. So, what’s the plan?” Izuku moved his sunglasses to his forehead, pushing back his fluffy green hair.

“So, your job is fairly simple. I’m gonna have you sit on this stool and hold onto this bouquet of flowers. Since it's just me out here I’ll be messing around with the equipment until I find the right lighting and all that. All you need to do is keep the pose I tell you to, okay?” he explained. You nodded.

“What is the theme for this year’s gallery?” you asked. Midoriya flinched.

“Oh it’s um...nature…” he muttered. Nature? Why doesn’t he just take a picture of a tree and call it good? What does he need you for, you wondered.

Izuku set down the stool in front of the garden wall and you sat down. He grabbed the bouquet and handed it to you. He then placed the crown uptop of your head. He carefully arranged it to rest effortlessly on you. His nimble fingers were delicate as they touched your head, then moved to your cheek without him thinking. Izuku’s index finger now rested under your chin as you looked up at him. With a burning face and widened eyes, you wished to never look away. Out of flustering embarrassment, Izuku took his hand back.

“Yeah um so for the pose I’d like you to be looking slightly to the side with your chin tilted up just as I had it. Then with the flowers have them close to your cheek. I’ll probably tell you to switch out poses here and there but that's a good place to start. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Izuku walked back and grabbed his camera. Your heart was pounding out of your chest. You tried to keep yourself calm with a few deep breaths.

“Ready?” asked Izuku. You nodded.

“Ready.”

The first click of the camera and flashing lights was the most startling. You soon got used to it, following whatever instructions Izuku gave you. You moved your head and hand placement, soon feeling more comfortable with everything.

“Yes that's perfect...keep doing that…” Izuku blurted out whatever thoughts came to his mind as he captured you on film. His encouragement was honestly what made your heart race.

“Now lower the bouquet so I can see your pretty face…yeah just like that Y/N…”

Midoriya didn’t even realize what he had said until the words left his mouth, but he didn’t care. He meant it.

“Okay now open your eyes and look slightly towards me, parting your lips a bit…”

Izuku snapped the picture then froze. He looked down at the small digital image.

“So beautiful…”

“Hmm?” You questioned. Izuku snapped out of the trance that he was in. He chuckled nervously.

“OH-the pictures look really good that's all. I think we are good,” he said. You let out a sigh.

“Oh good. That was honestly pretty exhausting.”

“I really appreciate you letting me use you for the gallery. I already know the final product is gonna turn out amazing,” he cheered. You smiled.

“It’ll be amazing because you are amazing,” you said. Izuku blushed.

“So are you.”

You took off the crown and returned the flowers to Midoriya. You helped him put away his equipment before the two of you headed back inside.

“Um Y/N, did you maybe want to grab something to eat?” he asked. You smiled.

“I’d love to, just let me change first,” you chuckled.

“Oh yeah of course.”

You dropped off the equipment at Izuku’s dorm before heading to your own. You slipped on a green sweater and some sweatpants before finding him again.

You and Izuku went to the dinning hall, each of you picking up a bowl of ramen. You decided to eat outside on the balcony.

“How do you think the pictures turned out?” you asked.

“Honestly, really good. You did amazing,” he smiled. You looked down at your food.

“I was honestly super nervous for them. Couldn’t you tell?”

“Not at all! You were a natural out there! I really think this will be some of my best work yet,” said Izuku.

“I’d love to go to the gallery with you,” you whispered. Izuku’s eyes widened.

“I was planning on taking you regardless,” he replied, “thank you by the way.”

You tilted your head.

“For what?”

“For always believing in me. I probably wouldn’t be a photographer if it weren’t for you.”

In Izuku’s first year, he was at the bottom of his class. He knew he wanted to do photography, but couldn’t seem to get the hang of it. He was so frustrated one day that he even said that he would be dropping out and quitting forever. You convinced him not to, to keep trying. You saw his talent when no one else could. Even when he couldn’t. From that day forward, Izuku worked to become the best young photographer in all of the Shizuoka Prefecture.

“Well I knew that you could do it, and I was right,” you teased.

“You’re great Y/N, seriously,” he said. You looked at Izuku, your face growing hot.

“I don’t know about that…”

“What? Come on, you’re smart, you’re kind, you’re talented, and you always seem to know what to say. You’re incomparable.”

“To what?”

“To anything. You’re incomparable to anything because you’re you.”

Midoriya had to stop himself from saying anymore, for fear of spilling his whole heart before you. He meant it however. Nobody compares to you.

You swirled your noodles around in their bowl. The pounding in your chest came back. You locked eyes with Izuku.

“You’re incomparable too.”

Izuku spent every waking moment arranging his piece for submission to the gallery. He was always found in the art room, either photoshopping or preparing the flowers to be pressed. Once the image of you was edited to his liking, he developed a large scale version of the picture. He enjoyed putting the pieces together. From hand pressing the flowers to finding the perfect frame to keep it all in, he has created a masterpiece. All thanks to his muse.

You roamed the empty halls of the school in search of Izuku. You hadn’t seen him all day, assuming he would be in the art room. It was late, he honestly should be asleep. You stood in front of the art room door and carefully opened it up.

Izuku was fast asleep on one of the desks. The large photograph was wrapped and ready to be sent to Tokyo. You quietly walked over to him, tapping his shoulder.

“Izuku? It's late, you should go to your dorm,” you whispered. Izuku groaned. He opened his eyes and stretched his arms out.

“What time is it?” he yawned. You chuckled.

“Close to eleven. You should get some actual rest. You have to go to Tokyo pretty early tomorrow.”

“R-Right...the gallery…”

You could hear the exhaustion behind his voice. You grabbed his hand, helping him up.

“Come on, let's go.” You held Izuku’s hand as he lazily walked to the dorms. You led him to his room.

“Goodnight Y/N…”

“Goodnight Izuku,” you smiled. Izuku scratched his messy hair, giving you a weak smile. Without thinking, you leaned in placing a quick kiss on his cheek, before rushing to your own dorm.

Izuku stared at the letter on his desk. He had received it hours ago yet was too nervous to check. It was addressed to him by the Tokyo Art Gallery.

He took a deep breath and grabbed the letter opener from his desk, carefully gliding it across the envelope. He took out the folder paper and opened it up. Izuku ran to your room.

You jumped from your bed when you heard the pounding on your door.

“Izuku? Everything okay?”

He didn’t say anything, simply handing you the letter.

“Is this…?”

“Read it.”

You caught your breath, peaking at the paper.

‘Dear Mr. Midoriya,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into the Tokyo Art Gallery for Promising Artists! Your piece titled…’

You didn’t finish reading the letter. Instead, you jumped into Izuku’s arms.

“I knew you’d make it! I’m so proud of you!” you cheered. Izuku hugged you tightly, laughing with joy.

“It’s all thanks to you, I couldn’t do it without you,” he whispered. You looked at Izuku, your hands on his shoulder as he held onto your waist. His face blushed red.

“Oh sorry-” he mumbled, removing his grip from you. Your face burned.

“I-It’s okay...congratulations Izuku. You did it,” you smiled. Izuku took your hand, giving it a squeeze.

“We did it.”

It was the day of the gallery showing. You were beyond excited to see all the beautiful artwork, specifically Izuku’s. You still hadn’t seen the final product.

You were dressed and ready, waiting for Izuku.

“Sorry I’m late-”

Izuku came rushing down the stairs to meet you. He looked devilishly handsome in his light grey suit and black turtleneck underneath. He prompted for some beat up black sneakers today.

“That's alright… you look nice,” you smiled. Izuku blushed.

“Says you..you look...wow…” He could barely form a sentence you were so breathtaking.

“Oh stop…”

“Shall we?” Izuku held out his arm for you to take. You did happily.

“We shall.”

The two of you rode the train to Tokyo, arriving at the gallery just before it was open to the public.

“Mr. Midoriya,” said one of the gallery workers, “your art is on the third floor.”

“Thank you.” You and Izuku made your way up the stairs, searching the room for the photo.

“Oh here it is,” smiled Izuku. The large photo was covered up and had velvet rope to stop anyone from getting too close.

“Wow, they must’ve liked yours!” you exclaimed. Izuku blushed.

“Well I didn’t tell you but it actually got nominated for best portrait of the gallery…”

“WHAT? Izuku, that's amazing!” you gushed.

“Yeah so some judges will take a look at it later on and hopefully we win…”

“Doesn’t matter if we win or not. I know it's the best one here,” you smiled.

You soon heard footsteps make their way up to the third floor.

“Showtime,” whispered Izuku. You took a step back from the portrait and watched as Izuku removed the curtain that covered it. The room filled with awes.

Izuku decided to go with the last picture that he took, the one where you seemed to have taken his breath away. You were entirely in black and white, only color coming from the flowers atop of your head and in your hand. Also, the pressed flowers that surrounded you. Izuku covered up the garden wall with pressed roses, daisies, lilies, and sunflowers. You looked like an angel.

You took a few steps towards the picture, reading its title.

‘Incomparable Beauty’ - Izuku Midoriya

You couldn’t seem to find the words, none of them seemed to be right. You backed away from the portrait before bumping into someone.

“Oh I’m sorry-” you said. They smiled.

“Don’t worry about it. Wait...you’re the model in that photo,” they replied. You gulped.

“Um yeah I am…”

“Well tell your photographer that they did an excellent job, really captured the gallery theme.”

“The nature theme?” you questioned. They tilted their head.

“No, the theme was ‘Beauty in its Purest Form’. Really great work.”

Your eyes widened.

“Uh-excuse me-”

You began to shuffle through the crowd of people. Izuku noticed you make your way towards the exit.

“Y/N? Y/N!”

Izuku followed you down the stairs. You rushed outside, breathing in the fresh air. Izuku grabbed onto your arm.

“Y/N what's wrong?” pleaded Izuku, “did you not like it?”

You shook your head. Tears began to gather in the corners of your eyes.

“No Izuku, I loved it. I really loved it,” you sniffled. Midoriya felt a wave of relief wash over him.

“Why did you run?”

“Because...I didn’t recognize myself...I looked-”

“Beautiful. You look beautiful,” he interrupted.

“Y-You think I’m beautiful?” you cried. Izuku wiped away your stray tears.

“Y/N, I think you are the most beautiful girl in the world, inside and out. Y-You’re my muse.”

Izuku cupped your face as you tried to hold back anymore tears.

“You made me look beautiful…”

“No Y/N, you are beautiful. I simply clicked the camera.”

Izuku pulled you into a tight hug, holding the back of your head gently. There was something about the way Izuku made you feel. As if you were the only girl in the world.

“I love you,” you whispered. Izuku’s eyes grew. He moved to face you, a smile creeping onto his face.

“I love you.”

Izuku placed his hand onto your cheek, feeling your soft skin. He began to inch closer to you. You couldn’t wait anymore, the anticipation killing you. You collided your lips with his, wrapping your arms around him. He had one hand on the small of your back as the other held the back of your head. Izuku took mental pictures of this moment, wishing to relive it over and over again. The warmth between the two of you in contrast to the cold air that surrounded you. It was a tornado of emotions.

You looked at Izuku, both of your faces burning and you attempted to catch your breath. You pressed your foreheads together, chuckling softly. Izuku kissed your forehead.

“You really are incomparable.”

•

[MHA taglist: @bibly @big-phat-cat @sapphoscolonoscopy @luluwiie @happyheartsss @lealofsblog @iwaisa @bakugousmymassa @evivn1 @tetsoleil @bokutory @vangoghmusings @moonlightaangel @misszenin @marajillana @sopesmin @alaina-rose13 @shotoful @runrabbitrun3 @katlingclaw @nerdypuppytimemachine ]

#willow.🌸#mha #bnha #my hero academia #deku x you #mha deku #deku x y/n #deku x reader #deku x female reader #mha izuku #izuku x reader #izuku midoriya #midoriya izuku #izuku x you #bnha izuku #izuku x y/n #izuku fluff #izuku midoriya x you #izuku midoriya x reader

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chilly-me-softly · 3 years

Note

Part 3 for the marcus trio one x

Part 1 - Part 2

The phone vibrating incessantly on the bedside table at your side makes you wake up sighing, but you reach out your arm blocking it without even seeing who it is. Not even long enough to relax again the phone starts vibrating again making Marcus at your side complain as well.

"Hmm" you then decide to answer, your eyes barely open to read the name on the screen.

"Don't you ever hang up on me like that again" Jesse's perky voice comes loud and clear to both of you in the silence of the room.

"Hmm what?" you murmur sleepily running a hand over your face yawning.

"Fuck off Jesse" Marcus mumbles burying his face in your neck even more but his voice comes through loud and clear to his friend's ears who gasps.

"Rashy? (Y/N), was that Marcus? Is he at yours?" Jesse starts asking question after question and it's really too soon to keep up with him.

You sigh pulling yourself up against the headboard making Marcus complain as he tries to keep you down with little results, trying to find another comfortable position to continue sleeping by laying his head against your thigh as you start running your free hand through his hair.

"(Y/N)!" Jesse calls back to you annoyed and you roll your eyes. "What do you want Jesse?"

"I wanted to take you out for breakfast with me, I thought you might be sad about what happened yesterday" he was like that with you, worrying from a distance. He would give you your space to think without pressure before going into it and chatting with you. "But I hear you're in good company" the boy doesn't lose the playfulness, after all it's still Jesse you're talking about.

"Jesse don't"

"So how did it happen? Did he just stay over or is there more to it?"

"Jesse" you call back to him lowering your gaze to Marcus who sketches a smile still sleepy.

"Come on, I wanna know!" he complains from the other side of the line.

"Weren't you going to take me out for breakfast?!" you remind him trying to distract him as Marcus puts on an adorable pout. You smile, running two fingers down his face.

"You don't seem sad to me" he retorts promptly making your mouth open wide.

"I'm sorry, do I need to be depressed in any way for you to buy me breakfast?" you ask slightly offended as you hear Marcus' giggle.

"Put me on speaker" you do as he says before giving him the go-ahead, "Rashyy! I want to know everything! Everything, do you understand? I'll wait for you at my house in half an hour, move your asses" the call is ended soon after as you look at Marcus with a raised eyebrow and he shrugs.

"I should be used to it by now"

"You never get used to it" he chuckles sitting up and stretching his neck giving you a kiss. "We'd better get a move on or he'll come and get us" you moan letting your head hang down before getting off the bed to get ready.

The atmosphere in the car is quite different than the night before, you joke around for the short drive to Jesse's house thinking about playing some prank on him or how to keep him on his toes.

"Look he's spying on us through the window" you chuckle throwing him a look and stopping Marcus when he wants to turn around and look, "No no no don't turn around"

He looks at you confused before taking in your gaze, "What are you gonna do..."

"Nothing" you answer too quickly smiling innocently and he shakes his head getting out of the car.

The door opens when you still are a few metres apart, Jesse tapping his foot on the ground almost annoyed at your slowness.

"So where's my breakfast?" you try not to laugh as you hug him and walk into the house as if nothing had happened, leaving the two of them to greet each other with their handshake.

"All set in the kitchen" you clap your hands enthusiastically already anticipating everything knowing what your friend's breakfasts are like. And you catch a glimpse of Marcus smiling awkwardly, surely Jesse is trying to get information from him. You wonder what he's telling him though, it's not like you and him have talked about the whole thing so you're still pretty oblivious to it all although you can guess.

At that moment Marcus' head turns to look for you, smiling as the two finally decide to join you. Jesse comes to hold you from behind, you sitting on the stool certainly didn't wait for them to fill your plate, making you hiss as he tightens his grip on your waist.

"Careful" Marcus scolds him sitting down across from you before you can say anything and the other seems to remember at that moment the knock you took the night before apologising.

"Don't worry. It's just a bruise, it has to heal like any other"

"You have a doctor's appointment later" Marcus lets you know quietly as you scoff.

"When did you have time to arrange all this?" you ask as he grins looking at you and you sigh shakind your head. Him offering you a bowl of fruit as truce.

"Ah no, I don't do your third wheel let's be clear" Jesse shifts his gaze between you and Marcus looking at you badly as you sigh dramatically.

"I'm sorry Jesse, there's no right way to tell you this... we don't need you anymore" and he gasps before jumping off the stool to come tickle you under Marcus' shouts telling him to be careful.

It's always been the three of you from the beginning and that's not going to change.

#thank you anon #marcus rashford #marcus rashford blurb #jesse lingard

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ptergwen · 5 years

Text

you before me

warnings: nahh just fluff

summary: peter parker is a real life angel

prompt: “love is putting someone else’s needs before yours”

a/n: hi i wrote this for tess and claire’s disney writing challenge!! i really hope y’all like it <3

@fairytaleparker @neverlandparker

—

it all starts when you wake up; sore throat, stuffy nose. not too big of a deal. you just pop an allergy pill and leave for school.

mj is waiting at your locker when you get there. you wave to her on your way over. “hey, y/n,” she greets, then goes back to sketching in her notebook. putting in your locker combination, you cough out a “hi.” coughing? that’s weird. mj seems to think so too because she narrows her eyes at you in that way she does whenever she’s suspicious of something.

“you okay? kinda sounds like you’re getting sick.” you clear your throat. “what? me? i’m fine. it’s just allergies.” “whatever you say,” she shrugs. you can tell she isn’t convinced. holding in another cough, you grab your morning binder from your locker as peter and betty make their way over.

“no ned today?” you ask them. “nope. he got the flu,” peter answers before giving you a good morning kiss on the cheek. you grin at the gesture. you’d kiss him too if you didn’t feel a cough coming on. “another victim of the midtown plague,” mj sighs, looking up from her sketch again. you avoid her gaze.

“ugh, i hate flu season. it’s gross and annoying,” betty complains to the group. the other three of you nod in agreement.

right when the bell rings, mj closes her notebook. “don’t forget we have acadec practice after school. see you losers in chem,” she reminds you and peter. betty waves goodbye and leaves with her for first period. the two of them are halfway down the hallway when mj calls back, “and feel better, y/n.”

you’ve been exposed.

“why did mj tell you to feel better?” confusion is all over peter’s face. you stifle a sneeze just then. worst timing ever. “um... i just... have allergies. the medicine i took should kick in soon.” you sniffle, trying to put on another smile. peter doesn’t believe you even for a second. “i don’t know, baby. you don’t sound too good.”

the last thing you want to do is give peter something else to worry about. you’ll just have to suck it up in front of him. squeezing his shoulder gently, you tell him, “peter, i’m fine. seriously. i swear.” he looks you over for a few seconds before giving in. “hmm, alright. but if you’re worse by third period, i’m taking you to the nurse. deal?” “sounds fair to me.”

with that, you two walk to class hand in hand.

first period consists of you chugging a whole bottle of water to keep from coughing and peter asking “are you sure you’re fine?” basically every five minutes. second period, you can hardly focus with the way your head is pounding. thank god for your deal with peter because it’s finally third period.

you pull peter aside on your way there. he gives you a knowing look. “can you take me to the nurse now?” your voice comes out hoarse. peter frowns, then nods. “of course, of course. let’s go.” he takes your hand and starts leading the way to the nurse’s office.

mj spots you two while rounding the corner. “you guys do know chem’s the complete opposite way, right?” she snorts. peter stops to talk to her. “we’re going to the nurse. y/n might have the midtown plague or whatever you called it.” mj’s mouth forms an “o” shape as she realizes. “i’ll tell mr. dell. feel better for real.” you smile weakly at her before she heads to class.

lacing your fingers tighter with his, peter keeps walking as you follow next to him. the nurse’s office is crowded when you get there. “looks like you’re not the only one,” peter remarks. you look around the room while he searches for somewhere to sit. the place is pretty packed. mj was right about the whole plague thing.

“here, sit.” peter leads you over to an empty chair. you take it. he stands next to you, hand still in yours. the nurse comes over after helping a few other kids. “name?” she asks you, bending over to be level with you. “y/n y/l/n.” she runs one of those digital thermometers over your forehead and makes a face.

“101. you have a fever. can mom or dad pick you up?” “i don’t think so. they’re both at work.” “is there anyone else available?”

you’re blanking for some reason. no one comes to mind. sensing your nerves, peter puts his free hand on your back, leaning to talk to you. “you want may to come? i can call her.” god, if he isn’t the biggest sweetheart.

“would she mind?” “no way. she loves you.” peter turns to the nurse. “my aunt can pick y/n up, if that’s okay,” the nurse looks between the you two with a smile. “go ahead and call her.” you both thank her before peter uses the nurse’s office phone to call may.

you move to a bed that opened up after the nurse changes the protective paper over it. peter finishes his call and sits at the edge.

he gives your knee a small squeeze to get your attention. “may said she’ll be here in fifteen. i asked her to sign me out too.” “you aren’t staying? you’re gonna miss a lot.” you sit up, putting your hand on top of his. “you’ve already done so much for me today. i don’t wanna make you miss your other classes. or... or decathlon practice.”

peter’s mouth drops open like you just said something unreasonable. “no, no, no, you’re not making me. i want to. besides, love is putting someone else’s needs before yours, right? i like to think of it as you before me.” hearing him say that, you can’t fight back the goofy smile on your face. peter gives you one that matches. “right?” “right.”

as promised, may is at midtown in fifteen minutes. she gives you and peter big hugs, then signs you both out of school. peter stays with you in the backseat of her minivan on the ride to their apartment. “thank you so much for picking me up, may. i really appreciate it.” “anytime, y/n. you’re family.”

she meets your eyes in her car mirror, sounding so genuine. the parker’s really are the best people you know.

peter carries your backpack up to the apartment and runs to get something from his room when you’re inside. while he’s gone, may sits you down on the couch and starts making tea. he comes back with one of his hoodies. ”in case you’re cold,” he explains.

your fever is actually making you hot, but peter doesn’t have to know. you’ll wear his hoodies any chance you get. you scrunch the oversized sleeves up in your hands and put the hood up, patting the cushion next to you.

“lay with me?” you look up at peter hopefully. he swears it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen. “sure, baby.” he waits for you to get comfortable first. you lay on the arm of the couch, peter behind you. he rests his chin on your shoulder to press a few kisses to your temple.

“how are you feeling?” “eh. but you make me better,” you tell him. peter juts his bottom lip out, may doing the same as she puts a cup of tea down on the coffee table in front of you.

“aw, you two are too adorable. i called your mom, y/n. she’s coming to get you after she’s done with work.” “thank you, may. for everything.” she rubs your back once before sliding the cup of tea closer to you.

“no problem. drink your tea, it’ll help your throat. let me know if you need anything else.” “the remote?” peter interjects. rolling her eyes jokingly, may puts the remote in his hand. “love you, may.” she ruffles peter’s hair, then says she’ll be in the kitchen.

they both prove to you so many times that love really is putting someone else’s needs before yours.

you spend the rest of the day watching your favorite movies, cuddled into peter and his hoodie while may brings you endless cups of tea and literally anything else you could possibly need. like peter said earlier, love really is putting someone else’s needs before yours. him and may show you exactly that. it’s you before him. it’s you before either of them.

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tmp-jatp · 3 years

Note

Okay, so I have three that I really wanna know whatever you can tell me about them:

1) Ghosts at college - !!!!!! Tell me more, tell me more 🎶

2) juke the little mermaid au - YESSSS!! Gimme gimme gimme *grabby hands* 🧡

And 3) spy!alex au - HELLOOOO!!! I didn't know I needed this until now, but omgggggg 😍

I'll take whatever you can give me and I'll wait patiently for the fics 🥰 shskdhdjsksh

ahhhh ok so you picked some of them that will almost definitely never be finished (maybe i should move them out of my “wips” folder and into an “abandoned” folder of things i can recycle in the future...) but i’ll share some of what i have for each of them :D

ghosts at college - basically it’s a bunch of fluff where julie graduates high school and goes to college. there’s not a lot of plot, mostly it’s a few ideas tied together with fluff and one scene as well. anyway, julie lives in a dorm and her roommate, anna, slowly becomes aware that julie’s weird. weird things happen around her. sometimes anna overhears that she’s having conversations on her phone but when anna unlocks the door julie’s phone is on the table. reggie and alex are around sometimes but luke is there almost all the time. here’s an excerpt:

luke likes to spend all his time with julie even if they’re not interacting. he likes to be in the same room as her. he’ll be writing or humming or playing and she’ll be working on homework and only she can see and hear him but she’s got this little smile on her face

anna knows julie’s in love with *someone* but she doesn’t know who

sometimes anna heard talking through the dorm room door but as soon as she starts unlocking the door the talking goes quiet

one time julie and luke are having an argument about something. anna thinks it’s a phone call with the elusive boyfriend and she either walks away to give privacy or she opens the door and sees julie facing away, red in the face, yelling at air, her phone on the desk.

band cuddle nights on julie’s bed while anna stays out late or after anna is in bed/asleep. julie laughs at stuff they say. they watch movies on julie’s laptop without headphones and it kind of annoys anna but she puts up with it

julie will lay her hand on alex’s shoulder or curl into reggie or wrap her arms around luke when anna isn’t there or julie thinks anna can’t see her

julie is careful to not talk to air when anna is around

but she does take a lot of phone calls with her airpods in

that elusive boyfriend

hmm

and then julie gets sick (not angsty sick fic sick, it’s fluffy hurt comfort sick) and luke cares for her. that’s when he and anna “meet” for the first time. i have other more general stuff that i might recycle for some other fluffy canonverse post-canon stuff, who knows.

juke the little mermaid au - julie is ariel and luke is eric. dirty candi and flynn are julie’s “sisters”, ray is triton. caleb is ursula. here’s literally everything i’ve written for it 😂

Julie wants to see the world, because anywhere is better than down here. Her mother was everything to her, and her dad is kind and loving, but he keeps pressuring her to sing again and it’s too much. Julie just wants to be free from that pressure. She knows he does it because he loves her, but she doesn’t know if she’ll ever sing again.

Luke doesn’t want to get married. He shouldn’t have to, yet, he’s only 17 for God’s sake! He just wants to play music and spend time with his friends. But his parents want him to get ready to rule. His coronation isn’t until he’s 20, he has time, but he has much to learn bc he’s avoided it until now and 3 years isn’t much time to learn all it takes to be a king. Luke also wants to run away. He goes sailing alone, to try and go somewhere away, he doesn’t care anymore. He plays music to himself with his guitar.

Julie sees him while he’s out there. A storm rises which he wasn’t prepared for. His boat capsizes. She saves him and brings him to shore. Julie is curious about him, and now that she’s seen the land, she wants to go there. The land is somewhere where people aren’t pressuring her to sing. She’ll be free there.

Julie visits Caleb who will let her be human in exchange for her voice. He wants to use it at his club, the place she’s been warned never to go and where only crooked people are. But it’s actually a pretty cool place. This one guy, Willie, is really nice to her, but so are other people too. Julie makes the trade with Caleb, she won’t need her voice anyway.

She meets Luke’s friends on land. They introduce her to Luke. Julie’s never experienced her hair being so light and fluffy and bouncy before, it’s incredible. Julie sees Luke playing music with the boys. She at some point sees her “wake up’ song that Rose left for her and suddenly wants to sing again. But she can’t, because Caleb has her voice. Something something, jolts, something something 3 days to true love’s kiss?

lastly, spy!alex au - this was from a prompt that will sadly never be finished (sorry, tiger). the prompt was: spy au, childhood friends, “you had no idea, did you?” and i tried to combine those and make it willex but i had had nearly no experience writing jatp at that point and i also am more of a juke person than a willex person so the fic just wasn’t vibing. but here’s my back-of-the-napkin pitch for you, copy pasted directly from my doc, if you’re interested:

spy!alex finally cracks the case he's been working on for years: the hollywood ghost club. it's an elusive black market that deals in the worst of the worst but it always changes locations. the moment he thinks he's pinned it down, the whole operation disappears like a ghost. anyway, he finally catches the ringleader, the infamous caleb covington. willie, caleb's sort-of assistant and alex's something watches from the sidelines, having been tricked by caleb into thinking that they were just running a cool club.

thanks for the ask, vi! i appreciate it <3 these fics will probably never ever get written in full but they’re fun ideas and not every idea can turn into a masterpiece. sometimes an artist just needs to sketch and doodle instead, and that’s okay. but there’s value to recording and saving your sketches and doodles bc maybe one day you can recycle them into something greater, or you’ll come back to them and be inspired to continue them or to create something entirely new.

#tmp answers #tmp writes #wip tag game

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ehud1564 · 3 years

Text

The Dragon's early awakening

Introduction, part 1

Summary: Kagami joins Fransua Dupont Highschool. Meaning for Marinette that a new girl is in Adrien’s general field of view, and in front of Marinette. How will she react to it? Will she and Kagami be friends? Will she learn a lesson?

Also posted on fanfiction.net: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13926798/1/The-Dragon-s-early-awakening

And here's the google doc I'm working on so you can see how I'm progressing: https://docs.google.com/document/d/18T5_-_GYRtF940AJAzyJpT-t6uVQUQyCyyu3EcFeExc/edit?usp=sharing

Kagami woke up at 6:30 AM. She immediately got up from her bed, heading to the shower. Her mind was racing with meaningless thoughts, as it always was in the morning. She was awake enough to shower but not much else. She had a quick shower and quickly got dressed. After this preparation Kagami sat down on her bed and started mentally preparing for the day ahead of her.

Today is her first day in a new school. After she managed to join Mr. Darjencourt’s fencing group, her mother signed her up to a school and bought them a house. It seems they will be moving to Paris permanently.

Her mother was rich enough that they could spontaneously move to Paris, and still keep their house in Japan. Kagami didn’t know how her mother was so rich. She knew her family was always known as rich and famous. But she wasn’t sure how they got there or what they did except fencing.

She knew that while her mother could own multiple houses, most people could not. Some people couldn’t even have one house. She made sure to donate all the money she can get hold off. But it wasn’t much. She was very limited in what she could get. She tried to sell one of the house decorations once, thinking her mother wouldn’t notice because of her blindness. She got beaten and heavily scolded. Since then she never tried selling anything her mother owned. She tried selling her fencing equipment and got a similar result.

Her alarm clock signaled it’s time for breakfast. The personal chef made her a simple meal of Eggs on whole wheat toast, and gave her some yogurt and a few fruits. Kagami made sure to thank him, but mostly focused on her thoughts.

There is one person she knows in Fransua Dupont. And that is Adrien Agreste. The fencer she had to defeat in order to join the group. She hopes she’ll be able to make more friends. But she could only hope.

After eating her breakfast, She put on a coat and took out her bag to go for a morning jog, packing extra clothes in her bag to change. She went through the jog and kept trying to mentally prepare herself.

She ran through different scenarios through what could be when she gets to school. She knew the classes in Fransua Dupont were small. Small enough for her to be very noticeable, but big enough to be very draining to Kagami.

Kagami was never good at interacting with other people. She found interacting with a few people at once hard and draining.

After 15 minutes of running, she reached the school and went to her class. She sat down at a table, and started reviewing her schedule. She was completely alone in the class, having reached the school so early, 45 minutes before the first period started.

She checked her schedule again and reviewed the lesson she had for today. Even though her mother is pretty strict, she doesn't care about Kagami’s grades much. She only sees school as a waste of time for Kagami. Because of that Kagami doesn't work too hard in school, and it doesn't cause her stress.

Kagami is mostly a source of rest and fun for Kagami. Even if she isn’t good at the subject, she can take her time. And it gives her time without her mother. She likes being without her mother. No expectation, she doesn't have to be perfect.

It’s not that she didn’t like her mother. But being next to her makes her miserable. It was why she woke up at 6:30, to get out of the house before her mother woke up.

A student has arrived to the class. He wore a green shirt and glasses. “Oh, hello.”. Kagami replied “Hi” with an awkward smile.”Are you searching for a place to be alone? If so, I’ll recommend you use the library. I have a lesson here soon.” The student asked. “No, this is my homeroom class. Though I appreciate the suggestion. I’m new here so...”

“A new student! Nice to meet you! My name is Max Kante!” He put his hand forward. “Kagami Tsurugi. I apologize but I do not shake hands.” She said. “That’s OK. So what school are you from?”

“I’ve been homeschooled for a while, and I’ve been through plenty of schools.” Kagami replied, fishing in her mind to see if she remembers the last school she was in. “Well that’s interesting! Why were you moving?” Max tried to pull a conversation. “Me and my mother are looking for a fencing school for me. We’ve been through plenty of schools, but we haven’t found one that proved a challenge. That’s why we came here. I now learn Fencing in Mr. Darjencourt’s group, which runs in the Gym of this school, led by Mr. D'argencourt.”

“Ooh nice! Why here specifically?” Max questioned, proud for developing a conversation. “Well we were told this place was the best. And it held out better than the others.” Kagami responded. “Not by much though”.

A new student entered the class room, he wore a red Jacket and a few Sweatbands. “Hi Max! Hi… I don’t think we’ve met!” Kim called excitedly.

“This is Kagami Tsurugi! She’s a new student in our classroom!” Max filled him in.

“Hi.” she called.

“I’m Kim!, very nice to meet you!!” He gives her his hand, which she refuses. “You too Kim”.

“So you fence! That’s a sport right?” Kim asked excitedly. “Yes.” Kagami replied. “Awesome! Another Athlete!! Woo!!! That’s so cool!!” Kim cheered.

“Yeah,” She said awkwardly. She doesn't know how to handle someone as excited and friendly as Kim. No mental preparation prepared her for that. She should have got there later. Maybe she would have been more prepared if she didn’t get before everyone.

Max and Kim started conversing between themselves thankfully. Max was talking about a video game with Kim. Kagami opened her phone to the Making friend apps, trying to figure out what she is going to do.

A new student entered the class, a red head who wore an orange shirt, holding a sketchbook. She prayed he would leave her alone and he did. Instead he began sketching. How much time was left before class? She checked her phone and it was much more than she expected. She didn’t properly appreciate how bad it will be to get to class so early.

If only she could distract herself. But she can’t and she feels very awkward. She wonders what the boy is drawing. She loves to draw, but asking him seems very risky. She thought she might draw, but the room dosen’t feel private enough for that.

Another student entered the room. A girl with purple highlights in her hair. She sat down behind Max, making no comments of her.

Soon later a group of 4 people entered the room. A boy who wore a black shirt with a skull on it, a girl with a green sweater with pins on it,A girl with pink hair and a green pattern throughout her sleeves, and a blonde girl wearing a pink dress. “Oh hello! Nice to meet you!! I’m rose!!” The blonde girl cheered enthusiastically.

“You’re kind of in my seat” Said the boy wearing a skull sign.

“Yeah sure sorry I’ll go.” Kagami got up and sat one chair ahead of the chair she was in.

“So what’s your name?” Asked the girl with the pins. “I am Mylene”

“Ivan” the boy added.

“I’m Alix” Said the girl with pink hair.

“Hello. My name is Kagami.”

“Nice to meet you Kagami!” Rose cheered before going to sit next to the girl with highlights in her hair.

“A little warning, this seat also belongs to someone. The only available places are next to Nathaniel, and next to me.” Said Ivan, pointing to the sketching boy.

“Hmm?” Nathaniel hums as the sound of his name.

“Do not sit next to nathaniel. Nathaniel is terrible!” Alix said loudly.

“I’m right here. I can hear you.” Nathaniel said despretly.

“Yeah that’s part of the point!” Alix shouted at him.

“What did he do?” Kagami asked, somewhat curious. What could have caused such a reaction.

“He made a comic of him saving one of our classmates from Akumas, and then of that classmate falling in love with him in that comic. The classmate knew none of it and didn’t give him any permission.” Ivan explained.

"Then he made a comic of Ladybug falling in love with an Akumatized version of him!" Kim added.

“That’s bad.” Kagami replied. “What’s an Akuma? And who's Ladybug?” She asked.

“You’re new in town?” questioned Millene.

“Somewhat, yes.” Kagami Answered.

“Wait just one minute!” Max said and opened his phone. After a few seconds of messing with it, he said "Come here!”. Kagami went to stand next to him and he gave him her phone.

“She explains it better than any of us can! I’d say she’s somewhat the expert." Alix added seeing the video. Mylene and Alix went to talk in their seet, and Ivan opened his own phone in his seat.

Kagami pressed play, and the video started. There was a short musical intro, and then a girl appeared on screen. She wore glasses and had red hair. “What’s up, Peeps! It’s Alya Cesire, bringing you the one and only Ladyblog! If you're planning to move to Paris, this video is a must watch!” The girl in the Video, Alya, said with excitement.

I already moved. Maybe I should have done my homework. Kagami thought to herself. to be fair, I didn't think we'd actually move here.

“If you ever visit Paris, most likely you’ll come across an Akumatized supervillain.” Alya said as she lost her enthusiasm.3 pictures of people appeared on screen. One girl with dark Red hair and the Wireless symbol on a black shirt labeled “Lady Wifi”. Another, a muscled man wearing a black shirt and golden jewelry Labeled “The Pharaoh”. The last one, A woman with green skin and red hair Labeled “Befana”.

“Akumatized villains, often shortened to just Akumas, are created when someone feels an extreme negative emotion. When you experience an extreme negative emotion in Paris, A supervillain named Hawk Moth can send an Akuma-” A picture of a black butterfly appeared on screen ”'-a corrupted butterfly, to you. The butterfly can enter an Object of yours, and will allow Hawkmoth to speak to you and corrupt you. He will give you superpowers, and his corruption will make you want to hurt others.”

“But, when Hawkmoth first Attacked, two heroes came to save us!” Alya said, regaining her excitement. And a picture of two people appeared on screen. One was wearing A red bodysuit with Polka dots, and was Labeled “Ladybug”. The other wore a black suit and had a bell on his neck, and was labeled “Chat Noir”.

Kagami remembers Ladybug. She met her in the Louvre after… Something... happened. Probably something that has something to do with an Akumatized Villain then. That explains it somewhat.

“Ladybug and Chat Noir rose to fight Hawkmoth, they can save the Akumatized people, release the butterflies from Hawkmoth’s control, and undo the Damage the Akuma did to Paris.” A clip of Ladybug throwing a parachute with the same pattern as her suit plays. It turns into a swirl of Ladybugs all over the place, who started fixing things.

Neet

“Since then, Hawkmoth is trying to get the Heroes’ Jewelry. That became the main target of most of his Akumatized villains. We’re not sure what he can do with them, though I have several theories on my Ladyblog!” Alya explained.

"If you decide to move to Paris anyway, or if you’re interested in Any more detailed explanation, consider giving my Ladyblog a visit! It has everything you need to know, and so much more! For example, the ladyblog has: Akuma Alerts, a Chat to talk to people close to the fight, clips from past fights, clips from current fights if I happen to be there, Personal theories and so much more! Support me on Patreon! Hope I’ll see you on the Ladyblog! Ladyblogger out!” Three links appeared on the videos, one to her Patreon, one to the Ladyblog, and another to the introduction page.

“So, any Questions?” Max asked Kagami.

“I’m not sure yet.” Kagami answered hesitantly, and gave him his phone back..

‘Well I’ll send a link to the Ladyblog, so you can learn more on your own. I’m sure you can also Ask Alya yourself, if you have any questions!” Max said.

ha? she thought.

“Ask me what?” The girl from the Video, Alya, was standing in the door, with a boy wearing a blue shirt with an eye on it, and had earphones hanging on his neck.

oh. She also goes here.

“Hi Alya! We have a new student coming from out of town! So we showed her your video to show her what are Akumas!!” Kim said, as Alya walked towards her.

“Neet!” Alya said, and turned to Kagami. “Hi. I’m Alya. So where are you from?”

“I'm from Japan."

"Oh nice!! Why did you move?"

"For Darjencourt's fencing team."

"Ooh you're a fencer?! That's so cool!! You're probably very serious if you moved just for a fencing group. So are you happy with the group?" Alya asked with excitement.

As Alya and Kagami started their conversation, Max called to The boy “Hey Nino! I'm working on something new, do you wanna check it out?”.

“Hell yeah dude!! Coming right up!” Nino replied enthusiastically, and made his way to stand next to Max.

"It's OK. Better than most groups I've been too, but not great. I might have found someone that is equal to me." Kagami replied to Alya.

“What dose that mean? And who is that?” Alya asked.

Kagami started elaboratinh “This boy was the only one who had ever came close to defeating me. I have been through countless fencing schools, and no one has ever came as close as him. His name is Adrien Agreste, He told-"

“Why are you talking about my Adrikins?” A blonde girl wearing a yellow Jacket yelled at Kagami. Next to her stood a redhead girl wearing glasses and a sweater with purple green and black.

"Fuck off Chloe!!" Alya yelled at the blonde girl. The sudden swear took Kagami by complete surprise.

Her name is Chloe. It's starting to become harder to remember all of their names.

"The audacity! How dare you speak to me in such foul language!! Ridiculous! Utterly Ridiculous!!" Chloe yelled at Alya.

"Anyway, you loser need to stay away from MY Adrikins" Chloe shouted at Kagami and placed her finger on Kagami's chest.

That girl knows Adrien

Kagami wanted to knock Chloe at a table. She doesn't handle being touched well. But she doesn't want to get in trouble. The last time a similar event happened, Kagami couldn't be at school for two full weeks. She had to spend them all with her mother, who put her under very intense training. She tried her best to ignore her.

"Oh shut up. You're the only loser here Adrien isn't yours and you're harassing the new student. Go away or I'll make you!" Alya stepped in.

The door opened and in came Adrien? So they are in the same class. Now she knows that everyone are friendly enough and she won't need him. But they're too friendly, and Kagami has somewhat of a problem dealing with their energy. She supposed she'll adjust eventually. If she can stay here long enough.

"Adrikins! This new loser was talking about you!! Put her in her place." Chloe told Adrien in her sweet voice.

"Oh, Hi Kagami. Didn't know you were moving to the same class as I am."

"Hi." She said unenthusiastically.

"Oh, your name is Kagami! I admit I forgot to ask! Sorry!" Alya apologized to Kagami. "That's a really nice name! What are you named after?"

"Hello everyone! How are you this day?" A red haired lady with a cyan coloured jacket. Said standing next to the teacher's table.

"Talk to you later Kagami!" Alya said sitting in the seat ahead of Ivand.

"I'm here! I'm here!" A girl with blue hair and a gray jacket ran through the door. Kagami recognised that girl as Adrien's friend, who also tried out to the fencing group, and greatly misjudged her.

She shouldn't have been given responsibility as a referee. She did what she could with what she knew. In retrospect, it wasn’t her fault.

"Hello Marinette you're right on time! I was just about to introduce the new student!" Mrs Bustier said to the girl as she went to sit. Alya went to sit next to her, and Nino went to the seat ahead of Alya. Adrien sat next to him.

"Please be a dear and come here Kagami" Kagami obliged to The teacher's request. “This is our new student, Kagami Tsurugi! She came to us from Japan, for a fencing group! I hope we all give her a nice welcome! I am Caline Bustier, and you can call me Mrs. Bustier.”

Mrs. Bustier. That’s her name.

“Sit next to Ivan please! Ivan, please raise your hand so Kagami will know who you are.” Ivan raised his hand. Kagami already knew who he was. She went to the seet to his right. She would have much preferred to sit closer to the forng. She sat down next to him and took out her glasses.

A literature lesson has started. They started studying a new piece, so Kagami could follow the less. Kagami was not good at reading between the lines, and understanding Metaphors. She wrote everything down on her tablet.

The lesson felt longer than she expected it to feel. But eventually it ended. They had a short breakfast break. "Catch you later Marinette!" Alya told and got up from her seat. Kagami took out an apple from her bag and ate it slowly.

"Hey Kagami, want to go with me to the Cafeteria?" Alya asked. "I still have a lot to talk to you about! And alot to ask you!"

Kagami stood up and said "Lead the way please Alya." Knowing where the Cafeteria is might come handy. Kagami isn't planning to buy food from the Cafeteria,she preferred to bring food from home. That way, she'll be able to donate more of her allowance. She started following Alya, as she led her to the Cafeteria.

"Give me your phone number so I can add you to the class group chat." Kagami gave Alya her number, and she saved her number. She fiddled with her phone a little, and Kagami got a notification.

"Well, where were we before the lesson? Oh yes! You said you tried a lot of fencing terms, but they disappointed you? Which ones did you try into?” Alya initiated a conversation.

“A few. We’ve tried pretty much every famously good fencing school there was. It's wierd that the one we settled on was running on a school's gym." Kagami responded and took another bite off her apple.

"Here we are, the Cafeteria! Do you want to buy something?" Alys asked Kagami as she stood in line.

"No thank you. I ate breakfast and I brought food from home." She responded. She took another bite and she was getting close to finish the apple. She stood next to Alya in line.

"You can go sit at a table if you want! You don't have to stay waiting with me!" She didn't know where or why to sit.

"Kagami! Hi!" Adrien called out to her. "I have something to talk to you about. Can we go to the library for a few minutes?"

The library. Max said it's a good place to be alone, and seeing places of the school is good.

But what did Adrien want to talk to her about? That sounds weird.

"OK. Lead the way." Adrien grabbed her hand, and started leading her. She didn't feel great with that. But she didn't know how to politely ask him to let go.

Marinette watched the scene taking place in front of her from her table. Adrien came up to Kagami and started dragging her somewhere. She slowly stood out and followed them, doing her best to stay hidden. She had to hear what they were talking about. She couldn’t let Adrien be alone with Kagami. She followed them to the library, and hid behind a bookshelf.

"Since your new here at school, I thought we'd review the material you missed!" Adrien said to Kagami. His father told him he intends to do business with Kagami's mother, and so he has to be Kagami's friend.

"Alright. So what should we review than?" Kagami responded. She wasn't sure they had time for that, the first break wasn't that long.

"Since the next lesson is Math, we should review it first. There'll be an Algebra test next lesson, but I don't know if you will take it. Since you're a new student and all. But let's start with Algebra incase you do!" Adrien responded and took out his Algebra book. "Take out your Algebra book and let's begin!" They started reviewing the material.

Kagami was quite good at Algebra, and she was aware of that. Adrien was impressed with her but she thought the way he was impressed was weird. He was impressed with everything and made her break down the exercises to too many small steps. As if she can't make larger steps. Like she's a child who's expected to know absolutely nothing about Algebra. She knew Algebra damn it! She didn't like it very much. Maybe she'd find someone else to review the material with her.

Adrien was surprised with Kagami's skill, but was unimpressed. He pretended to be though, pretended to be proud of her so she would like him. He was honestly bored out of his mind.

Marinette was in terror watching the study session. Kagami turned out to be great at Algebra and it seemed Adrien was very impressed! Almost as if he's… flirting? This can't be happening!!!!! She started spiralising.

She had to do something about her. Something to keep her away from her Adrien. Something. But what?

If she could get her away from the school, than she'll leave Adrien alone. Or at least she won't be in front of her. She can try and get her in trouble with the school.

For that she'll need to impersonate her, and the best way to do that. Was to get her phone.

Marinette used the same trick as she did with Lila. She used a bookcart to get close enough to them slowly, and than threw a few books at a shelf to distract them. She had enough time for her to get Kagami's phone, hide it in her perse, and stand us from under the table. She exchanged greetings with Adrien and went away.

She hid behind another shelf of books. Tikki came out from her perse close to her ear and asked whispering "Marinette, why did you take her phone?"

"I need to use it to get her away from Adrien!" Marinette exclaimed.

"But why? What's wrong with her being next to Adrien?" Tikki continued to question. She did somewhat know why. But if Marinette will confess it, maybe she'll see reason. Or hear how she sounds like.

"Look at her! She's so smart and pretty, and she's a good fencer! If I don't do anything about it, Adrien will fall in love with her for sure! I have to do something about it!!" Marinette said anxiously.

Tikki facepalmed and shook her head. The bell rang, and Tikki flew into Marinette's bag.

She's supposed to have an Algebra test now.

That's it! The test! She could convince the Teacher Kagami cheated on the test!! Than Kagami will be off the school for sure, and Adrien will not fall for her!

Marinette went to the classroom And sat down in her seet. Adrien and Kagami already arrived before her. The teacher walked in after Marinette. She was a tall white skinned girl with black hair. She wore a black jacket on a white shirt, and a pair of blue Jeans, black glasses, and black shoes.

“Good morning! are you all Ready for the test?” The teacher asked.

“Not at all Mrs. Shamai.” Nino replied. Nino Lahife was a fairly average student. He was OK at Math, his grades were never good, but never raised concerns. He was pretty much OK in all fields equally.

"Don't worry Nino! I'm sure you'll do great!" Alya cheered him on. Alya Cesire was not a good student, but Mrs. Shamai really appreciated her, mainly because of the Ladyblog. If Alya spent half as much on school as she does on the Ladyblog, she'd probably be the best student in class, Maybe even the school. But than, Paris wouldn't have the Ladyblog. And that'd be a catastrophe for everyone.

So she sometimes cheats the system a little in Alya's favour. She lets her get away with not doing homework, she judges her tests softer. Alya is doing so much for Paris, so she does that for her.

"Hey Mrs." A student called. She doesn't recognize her. Oh! She's probably the new student.

"Hello there! Are you new? My name is Michal Shamai! And what's yours?" Well what is she going to do with her now. Obviously she can't take the test. She'll have to speak to her after class to see how much she knows and schedule private lessons to cover what she doesn't.

"My name is Kagami Tsurugi." Kagami replied trying to stand out.

"Well it's lovely to meat you Kagami! We have a test today, but you'll take it another time. Take one test so you can see what we learned so far and you can go on break. I'll need to talk you after the test, OK?" Michal told Kagami, doing her best to be bright and accepting.

"OK." Kagami took a copy of the test, and left.

Marinette found that pleasing. Kagami now has the means to cheat. If only she could get out, she could send the answers to the test from Kagami's phone, and make everyone think it's Kagami.

"Everyone turn of your phones. If you need to have it on, put it on my desk." Adrien and Max stood up and put their phone on her desk.

Adrien always needed to have his phone on and ready to take calls. She knows he has a busy life and was expected to disappear any minute.

As a student, he was a good student. She didn't like him, cause he was a rich boy. But she couldn't deny that his grades were always good. From what she seems of him, it's not like he has a knack for it. It seems he just has good teachers and high expectations.

Max used to give his phones to her on tests, to avoid distractions as he once told her. It was always off. He was a good student, he had quite a skill for Algebra. She liked him too, he was very nice.

They both sat down and Michal gave out the tests one by one. By her orders everyone turned over the test and started.

Marinette started the test, and started doing it as fast she could. Skipping questions, not really doing everything. After ten minutes, she stood up and gave Mrs. Shamai the test.

"Are you sure Marinette?" Mrs. Shamai asked her. Marinette was very bad at Algebra, and got easily confused. Her grades were very low. Watching her give the test so early means she probably gave up. That felt wrong with her.

"Positive!" Marinette said.

"Please try more." Mrs. Shamai requested. She saw the test and it was almost empty. "If you really can't, we can schedule a private lesson and go over it. Ok?"

Marinette knew she couldn't escape that. Maybe if she'll take it, she'll have an opportunity to raise her grade. "OK" she answered and got out of the classroom.

It was time for her to execute her plan. She started first by going to the Teacher's Lounge, and secretly looking in Mrs. Shamai's locker. She found another copy of the test and started searching for Kagami. Fortunately she found her in the same table she had the study session with Adrien.

She used one of the free algebra apps and inputted the questions from the test. She opened Kagami's phone. Who'd she send the answers to? Everyone. The more the better, the more chance of Mrs. Shamai finding it.

She copied the first answer into the message and sent. She patiently waited, checking every chat window if the message was read. Most of them haven't received the message, but Adrien received it, so she stuck to him. She sent the second message to everyone again, and waited patiently again.

She did it again. Now the message was shown as read. She had to act quickly. She opened YouTube through the browser on Kagami's phone, played Wind Up God from Pandora Voxx on full volume, and made her escape. She knew the song only started five seconds in the video, so she could have time to escape.

Kagami suddenly heard a very loud noise. She went to check it and found a phone playing a song. Her phone. She turned it off. How did get there? How did she not notice it was lost? She didn't think she took it out from her bag. Why was it playing that song? Was it stolen?

Mrs. Shamai was watching the class, when Adrien’s phone got a notification. She saw how everyone got distracted. Adrien can only check his phone privately if he gets a phone call. Meaning it’s very urgent. If that happens, he will leave for the day and will do the test another time.

Adrien got another notification. And another notification. “Adrien make the notifications stop. If you have to check it, show it to me so I know you don’t cheat.”

Adrien stood up and opened the phone so both he and Mrs. Shamai could see it. He got a message from Kagami? He opened the message and saw it’s conents. Mrs. Shamai gasped, and Adrien tried explaining he didn't try to cheat.

“I didn’t try to cheat! I promise! It’s not my fault! Please don’t fail me.” He begged Mrs. Shamai.

“Leave it for the principal.” Mrs. Shamai said. She called the principal and told him what happened.

Kagami heard a voice calling “Kagami Tsurugi to the principal's office”. That sounds very bad. She started spiralizing. That was very very bad.

In a different place, Hawkmoth was rejoicing. "I can feel it. The anxiety and distress of a girl who might lose everything." A butterfly landed in his hand, and he corrupted it. "Fly away my little Akuma! Wait for her anxiety to blow up, and evilise her!!"

Marinette had done it! She managed to execute her plan, and run away undetected! Now Kagami will stay away from Adrien for sure! In the corner of her eye, she saw a black butterfly. “An Akuma? Who might it be for?” She asked out loud.

“You know exactly who it’s for Marinette!!” Tikki said with anger. Obviously, she was referring to Kagami.

“Oh Please come on. There’s a Math test today. Basically everyone is upset. It can be for anyone.” Marinette said annoyed, not fully grasping the effect she had on Kagami. “We better transform.” Marinette ran to the bathroom which were luckily empty. “Tikki Spots on!”

Kagami didn’t know where the principal office was, so she had to ask many people for directions. But eventually she found it and entered to find Adrien, Mrs. Shamai, and someone else. Probably the principal.

“Young Mrs. you’re in great trouble!” He yelled at her. Adrien looked at her in a way she couldn't decipher. Mrs. Shamai was glaring. What did she do to deserve this? Why were they so angry at her? She looked down in shame.

The Akuma following Kagami had settled hiding behind her, waiting for a command from Hawkmoth.

"What happened?" Kagami asked trying to hold back tears.

"You know exactly what you've done young lady! You thought we wouldn't catch you? But we did! Mrs. Shamai saw what you sent to Adrien." The principal replied mockingly. What messages? She didn't even have his number! Was her phone stolen? Oh no! She'll get in so much trouble!

"I never sent Adrien anything!" Kagami said, panicking.

"That won't work on us now. We have evidence. Helping someone cheat? On your first day?How dare you! We are going to call your mother!" The principal told her.

Hawkmoth felt a very sudden increase in Kagami's negative feelings. "Catch her my Akuma!". The Akuma obeyed and entered Kagami's phone, clutched in her hand. Kagami's sadness and fear started to transform into burning wrath.

Adrien made a quick escape, and ran away to the Bathroom.

"Come on, can't we sit this one out? You have a Math test! And I have some perfect cheese to indulge in!" Plagg started complaining.

"No time for Cheese! Plagg, Claws Out!"

"Elemental, I am Hawkmoth! This thief thinks he can destroy your world? Well I'm giving you the power to break their world! And everyone's world! All I ask in return is Ladybug's and Cat Noir's Miraculous! Will you help me?" Hawkmoth said in his usual dramatic fashion.

"Yes, Hawkmoth." With that, Kagami became wrapped in purple, and the Principal and the teacher scrambled to escape.

#ml #miraculous ladybug #kagami tsurugi #Max Kante #alya cesaire #MLB #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #alix kubdel #long post

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quickspinner · 5 years

Text

Motorcycle Fairy - Part 1

Part 2 | Part 3

Planning on a part 2, but seems like we could all use a little pick me up, so here’s the first half today.

Luka had worked a lot of jobs since he was sixteen, but he had to admit working in the motorcycle shop was one of his favorites. He got to see all the merchandise as it came in, he got to see and occasionally touch bikes he would never be able to afford, and the owner was fairer than most of his employers.

Really, there was only one downside, and it was standing at his elbow right now bitching him out. Lula ignored him, continuing his inventory check.

“You’re only here because the old man knows your mom,” sniped Jean.

Luka raised his eyebrows, but didn’t look up from his clipboard. “You’re only here because he’s your dad,” he observed dryly.

“Kiss my ass, Couffaine.”

“Michel doesn’t pay me near enough for that.”

The bell at the door chimed as someone came in.

“I got this one,” Jean said quickly, taking a step towards the door before Luka had even had a chance to turn around. Jean didn’t make it more than that first step before he jerked back from the hold on his collar.

“Oh no you don’t,” growled Michel, the owner, his bushy eyebrows making an angry V over his nose.

Jean scowled. “Aw, come on, Dad, I took the class, what do you want from me?”

“I want you to not turn into a walking sexual harassment complaint every time a woman walks into this store,” Michel grunted. “That’s not even a woman, it’s an underage girl, and I am not going to subject her to you until you can prove to me you took that training seriously. Couffaine, she’s yours. Don’t talk down to her, understand? That’s a potential lifetime customer right there and you better not lose her.”

“Yeah,” Luka said with a half-smile to himself at his boss’s rather practical approach to equality. “Got it.”

“She probably won’t even buy anything,” Jean grumbled. “No way a girl like that knows anything about bikes.”

Luka ignored the lecture he knew Michel was about to deliver on the issue and walked to the front. He had to hunt about a little bit, the girl wasn’t very tall and she’d disappeared in the racks of gear before he got a good look at her.

He found her at a display of women’s helmets, standing on her tiptoes to look at a particular model. Jean kind of had a point; everything about her screamed sweetness and light, and nothing said biker.

Then again Luka’s sister was every inch the sophisticated model, yet she carried a switchblade that she absolutely knew how to use, so Luka knew better than to judge.

“Something I can help you with?” Luka asked, and the girl yelled and jumped away, flailing. Luka had to act fast to grab a rack of gloves that she nearly knocked over. “Sorry,” he said, straightening the rack. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

The boss was right, she looked a couple of years of years younger than Luka at least, which would make her seventeen or eighteen at most. Maybe younger, she had one of those faces where it was hard to tell. She was cute, with a light dusting of freckles across her nose, sweet blue eyes, and a growing blush as she stared at him.

“I’m sorry! I’m so clumsy!” she gasped, shrinking a little.

“Don’t worry about it,” Luka said with an easy smile. “I’m sorry for scaring you. Is there anything in particular you’re looking for or would you just like to browse in peace?”

“Oh!” she said, straightening and pulling a piece of paper out of her pocket. “Umm, I need a helmet. This one, please. Preferably flat black if you have it. It said on the internet that you carry this brand, so, um…” She held out the note for him shyly and he couldn’t help thinking again that she was awfully cute.

Luka smiled almost involuntarily as he took the note and unfolded it. It had the brand name, model, and even the size on it. “Cool, with this, I can go grab it off the shelf in the back no problem.” He looked up at her, smile growing at her excited face. “You can keep looking around if you want or just meet me at the counter. I’ll be right back.”

Luka went to the stock shelves in the back, unsurprised when Michel popped up next to him. “I don’t think it’s for her,” Luka told him absently as he ran a finger down the row of boxes. “But if she knows someone who rides, maybe she’ll get interested in learning.”

“Hmm,” was all Michel said. He didn’t follow as Luka picked up the right box and walked back out front. She wasn’t standing at the counter. Luka set the box down and turned to look around.

“Miss?” Luka called. There was a yelp and a crash from behind one of the racks. Luka sighed and went in the direction of the noise. He found her on the floor surrounded by boxes of road flares that had been artistically stacked a few minutes ago.

“I’m sorry again,” Luka chuckled, reaching down a hand. “I didn’t think I was that scary,” he teased, eyes twinkling.

“Oh, you’re not scary at all, you’re really nice-looking—I mean, you look nice!!” she sputtered as he grinned. “I’m just naturally jumpy,” she sighed as he helped her get to her feet. “And clumsy. My name’s Marinette by the way.” She looked at the boxes on the ground. “I’m so sorry,” she moaned, putting her hands on her head.

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Luka reassured her, squeezing her shoulder. She looked up at him and he smiled kindly. “Happens all the time. I’ll clean it up after we get you checked out. Did you need anything besides the helmet?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Marinette said, tapping a finger to her lower lip thoughtfully. Luka had to look away. “No, that’s it,” she said more certainly. “For now, at least.”

Luka motioned her to go ahead of him, and then riveted his eyes to the ceiling when he caught himself checking her out as she passed him. She might be cute and maybe definitely kind of hot but Michel sent him to be professional. He was sure Jean was watching somewhere and the last thing he needed was to give the guy more ammo to resent him.

Luka followed Marinette to the counter and put it between them, sliding over to the register.

“May I take a look at it?” Marinette asked.

“Of course.” He opened the box from her and let her turn the helmet in her hands. She ran her fingers over the outside thoughtfully, but didn’t try to put it on.

Luka leaned on the counter admiring her concentrating face. “Is this for you or are you picking it up for someone else?” Luka asked.

“Oh, it’s for my grandmother,” she said brightly, reaching into her purse. She held out a picture of a badass-looking grey-haired woman leaning against a red Misurati. Luka took it, looking closer. A rather younger Marinette, her hair in pigtails, was standing on her tiptoes grinning hugely over the bike’s saddle.

“Nice ride,” Luka grinned, returning the picture. “She looks like a cool person.”

“She’s super cool!” Marinette exclaimed brightly. “She’s always going on all these adventures. Last time she went…” Luka leaned his elbows on the counter as she went on. She was more than cute, animated, effervescent and completely captivating as she told him about her grandmother’s travels. The amount of love and pride pouring out from her as she spoke touched him.

“You must be really close,” Luka observed when she paused for breath.

“Oh, well we—I mean she’s gone so often—but when she’s here—and I mean my grandfather never really—you know what, it’s complicated, and I’ve taken up enough of your time, I can’t believe you even listened to me ramble on, I’m so sorry—“

“Please don’t apologize,” Luka smiled, setting the bag with her purchase on the counter. “I really didn’t mind. I’m sorry if what I said upset you. I just meant that I can see you love your grandmother very much.”

“I really do,” Marinette smiled. “She’s coming through town soon on her way to the races in Le Mans. I’m hoping I can get this painted by then.”

Luka raised his eyebrows slightly. “You’re going to get a custom paint job?”

“Yes!” Marinette said, and then hastily. “I mean no. I’m going to do it myself. I already designed the art for it!” She pulled a book out of her bag and flipped through it before showing him a page with a mock up of the helmet she had purchased. The design on the side featured a fairy sending a beam of light from her wand through a prism which fractured the light into a rainbow. Flowers curled artfully around the main design.

“Wow,” was all Luka could say.

“She calls me her little fairy,” Marinette said, touching the fairy silhouette. “I hope she likes it.”

“I’m sure she will,” Luka looked up from the sketch and smiled. “It looks like it’ll be really special.”

Marinette seemed to glow under his praise, as if he was a friend instead of a random stranger. He kind of wished he was. She seemed like a really cool person. For a moment neither of them said anything. A noise from the back brought Luka back to Earth.

“Well, good luck with your gift,” he said. “And I hope you’ll come back if you need anything else. I really wish I could see the finished piece, it sounds awesome.”

“Oh,” Marinette straightened slightly. “Well...I mean if you’re really interested, I could give you my Instagram? That’s where I usually post things I’ve designed.”

“I’d love that,” Luka smiled, grabbing a post-it pad and a pen from beside the register and sliding it over to her. “I’m sure my boss would like to see it, too.”

Marinette beamed at him and his breath caught for a moment.

“See what?”

Luka jumped slightly as Michel loomed over him. “Ah, Marinette here is an artist. She’s planning to do a design on a helmet for her grandmother.”

“I see. Is Luka helping you get what you need?” the big man said gruffly, clearly (to Luka at least) trying to appear as non threatening as possible.

Marinette’s eyes widened in surprise, but she didn’t look at all afraid of the big tattooed shop owner as she turned that blinding smile up again. “Oh, yes, he’s been very helpful, and here I’ve been taking up his time. Thank you so much Luka!”

“My pleasure,” Luka smiled back, handing her the bag. “See you next time.” He watched her until she was out of the door, and wasn’t even aware of his wistful sigh until Michel’s thick hand landed on his shoulder. “Good job, Luka. Not sure if she’ll be back but good customer service is never wasted, especially if she has relatives that ride. If she does come back, she’s yours.”

“Thanks,” Luka said, hiding his smile by looking down at the post-it. He folded it and tucked it in his pocket. “I better go clean up that stuff she knocked down.”

Michel grunted agreement, and Luka got back to work, humming a new melody as he thought about sky blue eyes and a sunshine smile. He ignored Jean’s disgruntled looks easily.

The next time he had an idle moment, Luka leaned on the counter and pulled the post-it out of his pocket and pulled up Marinette’s Instagram. The profile picture was just a logo with a curly monogrammed M, but Marinette was in the first picture, smiling in front of the Eiffel Tower in a striped top and red beret. “Cute. Very French,” Luka commented to himself, and glanced around quickly to make sure he still wasn’t needed. “Wow,” Luka murmured to himself, flicking through the pictures. “These are cool.” He straightened suddenly. “Holy shit, is that Jagged Stone?” He stared at the picture of the rock star with his arm slung around Marinette’s shoulders, pulling a pair of tricolor Eiffel Tower sunglasses down his nose to wink at the camera. Marinette had a silly-looking, but still adorable, grin as she held up two fingers in a V. The caption said she’d designed the sunglasses for the rocker, and Jagged Stone himself (or at least whoever ran his Instagram account) had commented to endorse her. “Wow.” Luka sighed, leaning back on the counter again. “She’s amazing.” Beautiful and sweet and creative...like, crazy talented, wow. He glanced at the door forlornly and sighed. He hoped he got the chance to see her again.

#quickspins #lukanette #i am lukanette trash i admit it #i'll never not know you #meet-cute #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #ml fics #miraculousladybug #miraculous ladybug #motorcycle fairy

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giant-sketches · 4 years

Text

A Little Anxious

A BIG thank you to @crystalk17 for the wonderful prompt that inspired this short side. I really liked their idea and while I changed a few thing, the overall concept remains the same.

In this story the Light Sides are giant-sized and the Dark Sides are tiny-sized. Anxiety is paranoid that if he doesn’t act soon he will vanish from the mindscape and seeks out Thomas to beg for his very existence.

This story includes 3 sketches and 1 super surprise I hope you all enjoy!

Word Count: 2372

Disclaimer: crying, almost being stepped on, panic, self-hate

For a long time now Anxiety had been observing the movements of the giant Light Sides as they interacted with Thomas. It always looked like a lot of fun to talk about their day smiling and laughing. He wanted to do that too, but he wasn’t like them. He was one of the tiny Dark Sides Thomas didn’t express often. Sometimes Thomas would go a long time without feeling anxious and Anxiety was beginning to feel like his presence wasn’t needed in the mindscape.

What would happen to him if he was forced to vanish completely? Would he be instantly forgotten like he never existed in the first place? Those thoughts haunted him each day as his paranoia grew into full blown panic. He had to take action! One night Anxiety formed a plan to confront the creator of the sides, Thomas, personally. Cautiously, he placed his ear to his bedroom door and listened intently. He had to make sure the coast was clear before sneaking out. Usually the sides were summoned by Thomas himself, but at times you could force a summoning by diving into his dreams.

The dream pool was located closest to Logan’s room at the end of the hallway. After confirming the hallway was void of giants, Virgil gingerly opened the door and stepped out. Before moving he looked both left and right down the hall to double check his surroundings. Then he bolted down the corridor as fast as his legs could take him. He flew right past Patton’s door and was about to pass Roman’s when two voices caused him to stop.

“I don’t see why we can’t come to a sort of compromise on this!”

“There’s nothing to compromise on is my whole point.”

It was Logic and Creativity bickering per usual. They were like cats and dogs sometimes when it came to what they thought was best for Thomas. Usually, Anxiety found their quarreling amusing, but when he was about to be stomped on not so much. The giant sides hadn’t taken notice of Anxiety standing in the hallway as Creativity started walking backwards to keep arguing with Logic, who had stopped at his door. Anxiety ducked in fear and braised himself! Shockingly as Creativity's boot reached the floor it landed beside Anxiety, barely missing him.

“We’ll continue this discussion in the morning.”

“Fine, but just know I could go on all night if need be!”

Anxiety continued to lay on the floor shaking. He was too scared to listen any further to the giant's ramblings and only stayed put until both had returned to their rooms for the night. That had been way too close. Anxiety was starting to lose his nerve about this plan of his. He was starting to regret passing up the idea of just possessing one of the giant sides like Deceit and Remus do and going to talk to Thomas in disguise. Sure he’d never done it before, but they made it look pretty easy. No, no he couldn’t do something so dubious, not when he was trying to win Thomas over. He had to be himself for this to work.

“I have to keep going...even if I’m scared, I’m more afraid of disappearing.”

Anxiety struggled to his feet, but managed to keep walking meekly towards the dream pool. Once there he jumped in without hesitation. There was no going back now. Gradually, he spread his energy outward into the surrounding environment to instigate Thomas’s lingering anxieties and cause him to wake up. Jolted awake from the sudden surge, Thomas flung himself upwards in a cold sweat.

“What was that?” he huffed.

“Sorry...that was me.”

Anxiety had succeeded in his plan and was now standing on top of Thomas’s nightstand. Thomas was stunned to see the tiny person and rubbed his eyes in disbelief.

“Am I still dreaming?”

“No, I woke you up. I’m one of your sides, Anxiety to be exact.”

Anxiety forced a smile in order to show he was friendly, but on the inside he was terrified.

“You’re my Anxiety? Why are you so small though?”

Before he could answer Thomas reached out his hands to lift Anxiety closer to his face for a better look. Anxiety flinched at the sudden movement, but he didn’t sense any hostility from Thomas and remained calm. Was this going to work? What if Thomas hated him and wouldn't listen to his plight? Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. He was beginning to fall apart as all his uncertainties about his existence surfaced. Was being so close to Thomas causing him to feel vulnerable? Tears quickly flooded his face in response to these new emotions.

“Wah! What’s wrong Anxiety? There’s no need to start crying, I’m not going to hurt you or anything. You’re safe here!”

Safe? Was he really safe? He didn’t even know what that felt like. Anxiety had gone his whole life believing he was unwanted and despised. Was Thomas now telling him that wasn’t true?

“Yo-you won’t make me vanish?”

“Vanish! Of course not, you’re a part of me just like all the other sides.”

“But I thought as a Dark Side I was just a hindrance to you. After all I’m this size because you don’t express me that much.”

“Is that why? Sure it’s not very fun when those guys show up uninvited, but you’re all needed. I need to learn those hard lessons in order to be a better person. You help me do that Anxiety.”

“I-I help you?”

“Yeah, in fact you may be able to help me with something right now!”

“Really? I will if I can.”

Anxiety was happy at the mere mention of him being helpful to Thomas. He listened intently with twinkling eyes.

“Okay, so I want to help with a local production of Red Riding Hood at the park downtown, but I’m not sure what I should volunteer for. I have a background in stage management, but I also like the idea of helping make the set pieces. Logan says I should go with stage management since I have prior experience, but Roman wants me to have fun with my more creative side and help with the set. Patton says either is good, but that doesn’t really help me decide. What do you think I should do?”

That was a lot of information to take in all at once. Were those the names of the other sides? Based on their answers Anxiety could infer that Logan was most likely Logic and this Roman person was definitely Creativity. Patton must be Morality by default then. Was this what Logic and Creativity were arguing about in the hallway? He’d never heard their names before so it was a little confusing, but he thought to himself on what would be the best option.

“Are you playing a part in this production?”

While Anxiety didn’t know a whole lot about Thomas, he did know he was an aspiring actor.

“I am, I’ll be playing the part of the wolf that eats the grandmother and tricks Red Riding Hood.”

Thomas was going to play the villain, that was unexpected. Anxiety always thought of him as a hero type that saw the world in black and white. Maybe there were more grey areas then he first thought in Thomas’s mind.

“Then I think you should help out with stage management, since you might hurt yourself working with power tools or moving larger set pieces around.”

“Hmm, that’s a good point. I think I’ll do that then, thanks for your input.”

“What really? You’re actually going to go with my pick?”

“Why not, you made a clear case and stated your concerns for my safety. I appreciate that a lot.”

A strange realization swept over Anxiety’s mind. What if this whole time it was actually Anxiety keeping Thomas safe and not the other way around? An immense feeling of relief caused him to laugh out loud at his own stupidity. There had never once been anything to fear, it was all in his head.

“I’m such an idiot! This whole time I’ve been so afraid you hated me and was going to get rid of me. I was trying so hard to not cause you any problems that it slowly drove me crazy.”

“Anxiety, I had no idea you were so stressed out over this. No matter what you have a place here. You keep me safe from danger, help me proceed cautiously in risky situations, and make it so I can deal with new forms of stress. I’m sorry I’ve been holding you back, but I think more than ever I need you.”

“To be needed is all I’ve ever wanted!” he mumbled through his tears.

Gently Thomas lifted Anxiety to his face and had him hug his nose. All those feelings of love, appreciation, and kindness washed over him as he giggled nervously. Anxiety had no idea how to deal with such an overwhelming flood of tender emotions, but he definitely enjoyed the sensation.

“Welcome to the family Anxiety! How about I summon the others and you say hello to all of them?”

Anxiety shivered slightly at the notion of being surrounded by giants, but he trusted Thomas. He also knew he’d have to introduce himself at some point if he was going to be sticking around.

“O-okay…”

Instantly, the other sides appeared in the room. Anxiety found it funny seeing them all in their pajamas and chuckled a bit. The sound quickly caught the attention of Morality who was completely amazed at the sight of the tiny side.

“Oh my gosh who is that?!”

Unfortunately, the sudden shouting frightened Anxiety and made him scurry towards the back of Thomas’s hands. He knew the giant side didn’t mean him any harm, but that was way too loud!

“Hang on Patton, you’re scaring him. You need to calm down and speak softly.”

“Oh I’m sorry kiddo, I didn’t mean too. I’m friendly, see?”

Patton displayed a soft smile of reassurance and Anxiety sheepishly uncurled himself and walked closer to the edge of Thomas’s hand.

“I’m Anxiety. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Anxiety? Isn’t he one of those Dark Sides. What is he doing here?”

“Well you see he was worried I might make him vanish so he came to talk to me about it.”

“Vanish him?! Anxiety, there’s no way Thomas would ever do something like that.”

“Indeed, Thomas understands that all sides, big and small are necessary for him to have a healthy mindset.”

“Yeah kiddo, you’re safe here.”

“I-I know that now.”

“That’s a relief to hear.”

“Yep, he even helped me decide on what to volunteer for, for the show.”

“Interesting, what did you decide on then Thomas?”

“Yes, yes tell us!”

“I’m going to be helping with stage management after all.”

“What!? B-but wouldn’t making props be more fun then stuffy management?”

“Now Roman, Thomas has made up his mind and we need to respect that.”

“Ugh, I know Patton, but that means Logan wins.”

“Roman, Anxiety was the one who helped me choose, not just Logan. Also this isn’t a competition.”

“Ack! Oh, you’re right. I apologize. May I at least know what Anxiety said to make you go with that choice?”

“I first asked if he was also going to act in the play and he said yes. Then I thought about how it would be bad if he got hurt while moving props around or building them since power tools can be dangerous if you don’t know how to handle them properly. Thus, I believed stage management was the better option to keep him in the best possible shape for his performance.”

Silence filled the room as the giant sides had gone quiet. Anxiety could feel the tension rising and grew worried that he may have stepped over the line somehow. Suddenly, multiple cheers were directed towards him,

“Tha-that’s genius!”

“Wha-”

“A similar, but different perspective then my own. I’m impressed.”

“Huh?”

“Anxiety, I’ve missed judged you! At first I thought you were like that robot over there, but you really do care about Thomas’s well-being the same as I.”

Anxiety had no idea how to respond to this amount of praise. All he did was speak his opinion.

“I hope now you see how needed you truly are here Anxiety.”

Anxiety blushed.

“Yeah, it’s a lot to handle though.”

“You’ll get used to it. Anyway, I want you all to introduce yourselves to our new family member here. Would you be okay with each of them holding you for their introductions?”

“I don’t mind. As long as none of them drop me.”

“It’ll be just fine. Here you go Patton, you first.”

Slowly Patton cupped his hands together and placed them in front of Thomas’s in order for Anxiety to walk across.

“Hey there kiddo, my name's Patton and I’m Thomas’s Morality. I look forward to working with you!”

Patton was so warm, he wasn’t anything like his counterpart Deceit.

“Now Roman.”

Roman mimicked Patton’s movements from before.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Anxiety. My name is Prince Roman, but for friends Roman is just fine. I make up Thomas’s Creativity.”

This one was Remus’s brother, but comparatively he was a lot nicer and cleaner.

“Last we have Logan.”

Following suit yet again Anxiety felt the most nervous about this one. His eyes were cold and his demeanor was rigid.

“Hello Anxiety, it’s nice to finally meet you. My name is Logan and I’m Thomas’s Logic. I want you to know I look forward to your company.”

A small smile crept on Logan’s face as he handed Anxiety back over to Thomas’s hands.

“From now on you’re one of us Anxiety.”

Leaning down Thomas placed a kiss on Anxeity’s head. He giggled with embarrassment. Not in his wildest dreams did he think he’d ever find his place in Thomas’s mind, but now he was also a part of his heart too. Overtime Anxiety enjoyed hanging with his new family and grew into his role.

“Hey Virgil, hurry it up. Thomas needs to see us right away!”

“Coming.” he said as he grabbed onto Roman’s hand.

The End

@thought-u-said-dragon-queen

The tag list is just starting for my short sides, so if you’d like to be added just send an ask or comment on this post. Thank you again for reading!

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soranihimawari · 4 years

Text

West Coast kind of Love

Summary: There were certain things you know off the top of your head. One, the fact that popcorn and M&Ms should not be sold separately at the local movies is a crime; two, every other Monday of the month, the neighborhood film club would host dollar monster movies (where one of your neighbors in your apartment complex would frequently attend); and three, you might have to pinch yourself when he asks you to take a photo with you as a proof of “how things are going abroad” to his friend in Argentina...

Word count: 4.685K

Taglist: @m0nstergeneration20xx 📷 (google docs proof reader), @oitoorus, @tkags & her ⛅ (anon fam) , @oikawalovely [open still]

“Do what you love and the rest will follow”-proverb

--September XX--Thursday, 23:13 (11:23pm)

“Oh come on Yukihira,” you knocked on the closed bathroom door of your apartment.”You know I called dibs to the bathroom after we ditched those jerks at the dancehall.”

Every month you and your roommate took turns in choosing public places to go out for a night on the town. With midterms coming up for what would be the junior year of your undergrad studies, your roommate decided giving a double date a try. Unfortunately for her, those jerks were thinking of doing the deed way too early for either of your liking. You decide that spilling your peach Bellini on your friend’s outfit during the middle of the date was the perfect excuse to end the night early. More often than not, you mostly came along these dates with her as an enforcer. You two might be as different as night and day (yukihira studies medicine all hours of the day whereas your focus was the visual arts). Tonight was just one of those nights where you being there was beneficial.

“Ugh, fine,” she said opening the door revealing her freshly brushed grin. “I can’t believe you had the gall to ruin that outfit y/n.”

“Hey, whatever helps you throw it out like you did your ex then I was doing the Lord’s work for you, Yuks.” You rolled your eyes at her when she stuck out her tongue when you slithered into the ivory tiled washroom. This earned a laugh from the other member of your household.

“But because this was a bad date and I didn’t think things through this time again, that means I get to set you up on a blind date.” Her singsong voice reached your ears as you turned on the faucet to drown out her mocking tone. You paused for a brief moment while waiting for the make up remover serium to bubble up on your face before wiping it off effectively.

“With who?” you asked after you patted your skin dry post-makeup removal ritual complete. Your hair was undone from the hair elastic you pulled out of your inherited islander curls.

“I don’t know. Hmm...Maybe the guy in unit 23C? He’s awfully cute,” Yukihira mused as you leaned in her doorway. Her brows wiggled in delight when she noticed how you stared at your neighbor on move in day during your freshman move in day three years prior.

“Iwazumi? You can’t be serious,” you said. Your voice betrayed you because your eyes shined like the gods of furtune finally found their way to you.

“Do you want to or not? He’s focused, witty, determined; I have my physiology study group with him tomorrow. Why don’t you come with, best friend of mine?”

You really hated when she pulled the puppy eyes on you, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to refuse (not by a long shot).

“Ask him if he prefers coffee or tea.”

A few days later, you came home from your department’s masters class with your portfolio sling over your shoulder. Your hands were covered in literal ink stains from your latest mural macro-micro project.

“Hey, Yukihira! Have you seen where I kept my lacquer thinner?” You raise your voice slightly as you kick off your shoes by the entrance hallway. It was only then you realize there were a couple of other pairs of shoes that did not belong to either of you. That’s when you remembered your friend’s warning about her study group coming over. All color drained from your face when you rounded the corner to your living room area converted into a mini lecture hall. You clear your throat to announce your presence which went unnoticed (with the exception of your roommate). Without even looking at the board, you chose to mess with the med students’ practice case.

“And I’m telling you this is a bilateral cut to the optic nerve, Josefina.”

“The microabraisons on the left thoracic cavity allowed the victim to bleed out on the table due to the elevated use of blood thinners, ” your voice quiets the pre-med students and you smile in a nonchalant manner. You have read this problem with Yukihira so many times prior at the start of the semester that you were able to recall the prognosis off the top of you head. Being friends with a pre-med major does have its redeeming qualities although you were seen mostly honing your crafts in the art department and this was just the prime time of their study week.

“Oh! You’re back early,” Yukihira says in a warm tone. She stands at the end of the table in between you Her eyes glazed over as if to communicate that you were about to be formally introduced. You bite your tongue prior to allowing your roommate to clap her hands together as she went naming every member starting with the person on her left who was the aforementioned Josefina. When she had come full circle, her voice trailed off with a small apologetic smile.

“Aaaand this here is my roommate, y/n. To answer your question about the lacquer thinner, I put the bottle on your desk when it arrived last time,” Yukihira made sure to watch everyone’s response. She was more interested in seeing how the third member of her study group (the aforementioned neighbor in 23C) would react. His minuscule smirk was doubly noted, prompting you to fill the few seconds of silence with your own voice. After a brief trip down memory lane, spear headed by your best friend as they took a break from studying for a moment, Yukihira explained after years of being friends you learned about the medical cases for exams via osmosis. You were an unofficial member of the study group since the medical arts building was located near the visual arts department offices on campus. You chose to not let them be pushed back any further especially since their content exam was coming up later that month, so you bid them good luck.

“Don’t mind me,” your brass tone conveyed an even temper at the time. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m just going to head to my room. You guys aren’t the only ones with an exam this week.” You raised your portfolio canister so they could see the poster sized dyed cylinder. Reams of paper filled with sketches made from ink and graphite poked through under the flourescent lights of the kitchen dining room table. The med students along with Yukihira waved and said it was lovely to meet your acquaintance.

With that you made a beeline route to your room, opened the door, and promptly shut the door. You dropped your portfolio canister next to your desk, turned up the volume of the lo-fi radio station playlist on your sound system, grabbed the nearest pillow and let out a muffled shriek to expel the remaining bits of embarrassment your friend threw you in. You were good at smaller group studies, but to be fair, given the fact that your friend was a social butterfly, you mostly seemed to rub off the “talented-artsy, yet focused,” type of woman. That night you cleaned up your outline for your stencil art piece of a fox and a hound for your take on minimalism class which had its peer critique at the end of the week.

You didn’t physically speak to Yukihira for the rest of the week. With both of you burning the midnight oil within the last few days before the exam, you noticed that the number of study group being held in your apartment had become the norm every other day (causing you focus more on a certain individual). Funny thing was he was also doing the same thing...

『from Yukihira: how many times do i have to apologize? You know I didn’t plan on having an emergency study session with iwazumi. He just showed up & wanted to chat. Besides the TA & professor chose to move up the exam date...』

『from y/n: you should of told me earlier before I came home. You know I forgive you... only if you buy me the latest ice cream along with the new Jun Ito novel. I’ll be out there in a minute till make some coffee for us.』

『from Yukihira: Mmkay & thanks. Coffee sounds good right about now anyways.』

--October XX-- Friday, 15:55 (3:55p.m.)

The weekend came through soon enough and on a Friday afternoon with no where to go, you were chilling at the comfort of your own living room. You were quick to thank the test gods for the exam being moved up once you had a proper conversation with Yukihira that morning. She mentioned she was going be out all day making sure she was able to finesse her study guide with her fellow medical study group. Since it was the end of the week, Josefina opted to have a free for all study day at the book store for those who wanted to go over last minute things according to the note yukihira left on your door that morning.

At the time of the day, you were expecting to be alone, curled up with your favorite cup of English Earl Grey Tea and a Lovecraft radio program you downloaded via the student Spotify network. Your phone vibrated and pinged with a notification from the bookstore where Yukihira placed the order for your horror novel to arrive sooner than the estimated timeframe. Because life finds it funny to pull another prank on your clown assery with your little cynical attitude, you were startled when the formal knocker was used.

“Shit!” you said when you clutched your heart as you placed your cup of tea down on the coffee table. As your put two fingers on your neck’s pulse point, you waited a few minutes for your heart rate to calm back down; you stood up and began to make your way down the hallway. Lo and behold, you were greeted by a casually dressed man who was clutching your new novel in his sunkissed hands.

It takes your brain a few synapses to register that it was Iwazumi who has been taking a liking to coming over for extra study hours with your roommate, but if anyone asked him to reply honestly, he wanted to know more about you. The human body has more than 240 bones, yet the more frequent his visits become, the more he felt himself become accustomed to befriending you both. There were instances where you joined them at the kitchen table glancing at their open notebooks and case studies; you often made tea or coffee depending on the hour of the day. On the days you had come home from the art department, Yukihira was quick to notice how Iwazumi’s usually tense face seemed to visibly relax when you came to prepare your favorite snack (m&ms and buttered popcorn). Your friend was quick to relay a text to his phone, which caused her study partner at the table to become more flustered than he already was.

Regardless of the various near misses over the next couple of weeks between you and Iwazumi (sometimes it was Yukihira’s fault other times, it was coincidental juxtopostional humour: it has happened twice on Iwazumi’s side when his friends back home noticed he was not at his usual place. [Yukihira called for a mini-study break] However, that didn’t stop you from asking him if he preferred sugar or honey for his tea & all hell broke loose (Hanamaki & Mattsun were cheering him on while Oikawa.exe has dropped the call).

All this back and forth for the past five weeks caused this moment to occur:

“I-Iwa-chan?” your voice went up several octaves before clearing your throat with a cough. “If you’re looking for Yukihira, she’s actually not here at the moment...”

“To the scientist there is the joy in pursuing truth which nearly counteracts the depressing revelations of truth.”

The audio from your radio program was keeping you company. The disembodied voice coming from the main sound system you helped set up when you first moved into the building with Yukihira quoted Lovecraft as the program continued to serve in the role of filling the silence between you and Iwazumi. The gods really did that, didn’t they? your thoughts were running away with you again, chasing a reality that would be yours--or so you think.

During that thought hurricane you conjured up, you decided to pause the train of thought for a few minutes. You released your hold on your front door knob as you pulled the door a little wider in order for you to lean against the frame of the front door. Your hair was pulled up in a messy bun (on your days off, you were typically clad in tapered mint green pants and a spare white button down blouse due to laundry day), but it was enough to see the usual semi-talkative and stoic demi-god of a neighbor wear such an embarrassed expression. You pretended to not hear the barely audible, “woah,” that escaped his mouth prior to him holding up the book to you.

“Did the mail carrier drop it off to your box again?” you ask taking the book in your hands. “Sorry about that. You can come in if you want.”

You were quick to notice that something caught your arm in an attempt to stop you from walking. When you chose to not try to pry yourself away from Iwazumi’s hold, he took it as a sign to bend himself to your ear and say the following in a powerfully low tone: “Would you believe me if I said I wasn’t looking for her?”

“Yes,” you say in a timid manner, yet it was paired with a curt nod. You both had the tenacity to swat away any lingering negative thoughts.

Iwazumi took this moment to turn you around to face him by the arm he held you with. His smile disappeared when he let your arm go and instead moved his hand to hold yours with his opposite hand, he pulled the door shut behind him. You were probably too proud to admit this aloud, nonetheless, you liked the way Iwazumi’s firm grip felt in your hand; his were rough and calloused as much as yours were from years of honing your independent crafts. You gave him a kind smile before your neighbor decided to take advantage of the fact that the other person in your apartment wasn’t home; you squeezed his hand slightly and he let your hand go.

You placed the Jun Ito novel on the kitchen counter motioning for Iwazumi to meet you there. Your kettle was still warm, however you made a cheeky joke to your newly acquired friend. (Perhaps this was Yukihira’s plan, you think). You reached into the dishwasher and was about to pour him a cup of tea, yet you couldn’t help but make a small joke at his expense for holding your hand so intently.

“For the record, if you wanted to hold my hand, you could have done so earlier,” you mention stifling a laugh, pouring the steaming water into the mug. Iwazumi mumbled something about how he liked the way your hand fit, yet you chose to throw caution to the wind and quickly planted short kiss on his cheek when you extended the cup toward him after placing the tea strainer in it.

With one hand on yours and the other was wrapped around the ceramic mug,. Your kindness was always something Iwazumi found alluring. You might not have been in the same course of study as him or Yukinira, yet you were good finding the beauty in the mundane. A few of your pieces of work were hung around the apartment and from his line of sight, your dedication to your craft was something to be admired.With every sip he took a sip to deflect from the way his thoughts were heading into uncharted territories; OIkawa, Mattsun, and even Makki were the ones more verbose on love & conquest during the days of their you:

“You’re always over at your neighbors’ place, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa teased.

“I wonder what his reason is,” Makki muses. “Mattsun thinks it’s a girl. Typical.”

Makki also noticed one of your sophomore symposium art pieces hanging behind the place where Iwazumi was sitting at the time of their weekly video call. Your avant-garde view of viewing the world was enough to set the sky amethyst hues. California does have it’s moments of striking beauty and somehow Iwazumi found it hard to keep to a straight face around his friends. His expression was usually hardened or bold, but today you sat across from him at the beginning of the call, reading up on the use of gold leaf detail work for your art restoration classes. Across the myriad of scattered medical books and various notes that were pertaining to another medical case were a tell that their friend was clearly not alone. You glance up at him quietly, a minute smile formed between you two; you write on a spare piece of paper the word, “friends” to which he nodded.

“Aww, is our little ace growing soft on us?” Oikawa’s whining was something you often heard Yukihira describe after nights like these.(She usually hung out in your room as you were placing the final touches of your latest art assignment. This month was dedicated to historic downtown with a twist of horror: modern mania & the ruiner of man. Right now, you didn’t mind the shared space of the dining room while Yukihira was out on a grocery run at the time the call was initiated.)

“Shut your mouth Shittykawa,” Iwazumi barks. His dark eyes hardened like stone and that was when Makki let out a wicked grin.

“I owe Mattsun 500 yen,” Makki chuckled.

“Holy shit,” Oikawa’s eyes bounced between his best friends and let out a low whistle. “if this woman is capable of such an amazing feat, ask her if she has a friend [for me].”

Iwazumi ended the call right then and there. He didn’t expect his heart to be beating so irratically when you walked room in your house attire for a moment to make yourself a cup of the same Earl Grey Tea. The hazy lights emitting from your room blended effortlessly with the flourescent ones in the kitchen; each beam clung to your body in such away Iwazumi was glad neither of his friends witnessed the moment he fell in love with California and all that came with it.

This afternoon was a different story as you liked the way Iwazumi allowed his natural blush to bubble to the surface of his cheeks and you could swear you saw a fraction of the high school volleyball ace shine through. The sunlight danced around the stainless steel details of the kitchen where you shared secrets, recipes, and drinks with your best friend. His free hand chose to move away from the counter finding its resting place under your chin. The cup of tea Iwazumi held earlier was placed next to the stove on the coaster by the sink.

You steady your breathing right before you felt Iwazumi’s breath on your cupid’s bow; his lips pressed against yours gingerly as though he felt his brain light up and catch a fire he needed to not run away from; everything he wanted to know about you was answered as soon as your hands cup his face. I think I like this, your conscience is egging you on to pursue his touch for a while longer. It was a silent acknowledgement of the other’s presence in the present moment.

“Hm,” you hear him hum in mutual amusement when you return his kiss. The pads of his fingers trace the highest points of your face teasingly. He wanted answers to the questions your lips asked. When you two separate for a moment, you realize you might have been too forward, but when you move your hands away from his face only to hug him in a loose embrace, you couldn’t help the next words from posing a question.

“Do you want to kiss me again?” your coquettish tone made Iwazumi’s answer very apparent as you suddenly took into account the last couple of weeks and the way both of you came to enjoy each other’s company during study group hours at either your place as the primary location or the cafe down the road from the apartment complex. (Iwazumi’s frequent visits weren’t for tutoring necessarily, about a majority of the time it was to see you as an added bonus).

Iwazumi did not have to be told twice; he enveloped you in his strong arms, he hoisted you up from under your knees and placed you a top the counter with gentle assertive force. Your legs wrapped around his fit waist as you gripped his biceps for leverage prior to letting the old ace prove his strength by placing you on top of the graphite counter like a doll.

“Comfortable?” Iwazumi’s expression was more seductive than profound.

“Very,” you reply as you unwind your legs from his body. “Where were we?”

Your hands wrapped around his neck before pulling him close to you again. A smug smile cut across both of your faces for a brief moment until your lips hovered over his for the second time. This time, you let him kiss you the way you knew he had been meaning to since he showed up at your door less than fifteen minutes prior book in hand. When Iwazumi kissed you at the current moment, the world crumbled and fell away; it was somehow comforting in a way that words would not compare to. His actions listened to the way you were setting the pace with the same tenacity as he showed you. The scent of his sandalwood conditioner mixed well with your ocean scented dry shampoo.

Your eyes were still closed when you felt your hands card through his ever-present spiky hair. His right hand rested below your ear, using the pad of his thumb and forefinger to caress your cheek and jawline again. You feel him smile against your own lips when you nipped the corner of his mouth playfully. You break apart long enough for your partner in the kitchen to began to sneakily undoing your top two buttons of your blouse to press his lips against your exposed skin. You let out a whimper in the heat of the moment the second his lips began to leave a trail of reverberating echoes in the simplest of ways securing his hold on your soul that very day.

“Beautiful girl,” Iwazumi murmurs as his eyes met yours when he was done having his fun. His voice was cautious, but when his arms began to hover over your own, you felt your heart rate speed up right as he told you this: “Tell me, what other sounds can you make for me?”

“Is that a challenge?” you retort, your hands disappearing under his hoodie to feel the fabric of his undershirt. Your hand stopped roaming atop of his chest; he was liking this. You could tell by the way he was taunting you with his smirk. “Because I was wondering the same thing. Do you want me to remove my hand?”

“No.”

Your hands could have been made of branding tools and Iwazumi wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference. He chuckled at your question before you brought him down to your level and your lips met again. The sound he made upon impact was as though you broke him yet healed him at the same time; time was on your side for this one and you proved he wasn’t the only monster in the kitchen. There was a hunger there behind every kiss you let him have; you were smiling in the between long enough to feel his heart beat faster through the fabric of his undershirt.

Your hands automatically removed themselves from his shirt and were found holding on to the aglet of the drawstrings from the hoodie he was wearing. Iwazumi kissed your fingers before proceeding with posing a question to you.

“Just so we’re clear,” your voice was bold and daring. It was one of the many things he liked about you both in and out of campus grounds. The small details was what Iwazumi liked the most and the subtle tells of how you, Yukihira, and even the other members of the study group didn’t make him feel so alone like when he first arrived to California to study.

“Whatever this is between you and I, does it mean we’re...together?”

You make a sign in the air with your palms up and point between you and him. Iwazumi clears his throat as he taps his lips to tease you and that was when he saw it: a younger version of you covered in sidewalk chalk in your neighborhood (much the same as you saw reflections of the former ace/vice captain).

“If you’ll let me take you to the Monster Movie marathon on Monday,” he answered when he linked his right hand digits with your left and you capture his lips again on your own volition. Your ears perked up at this, you drop the string you played with and patted his chest with a light rapt.

“Eager to make me your girlfriend aren’t you?” You laugh and Iwazumi furrowed his brows, but you silence his worries in one swift and simple move: you kiss him with the intent of either being his salvation or his torment, either way Iwazumi was not complaining. The girl who loves to read about Lovecraftian monsters and the boy who was a monster chaser shared a love as unique as themselves: like a secret they each wanted to keep behind closed doors.

His only vice was the fact that his social call was coming to an end and every ounce of his well being was fighting to stay here with you. You back down for a moment only to showcase your best attempt at a flattering smile to match his own. Iwazumi would never let you know this at the time, but seeing that smile on your face made his list of top three things he found most precious in the world. This wasn’t a crush anymore was the proper conclusion you both concluded.

“Meet at your place at 7:30,” you suggest. Iwazumi released your hand from his to step back as you hopped down from the kitchen counter you made a seat of.

“I’ll see you then ‘Ms. Lovecraft’.” The nickname he bestowed upon you was one that made the butterflies come back in a flurry; this was the start of something special, but you didn’t know it at this point in time that the name will be used to describe your affinity for Iwazumi’s unyielding devotion to you (the seeds were planted in both of your hearts and the two of you waited for them to bloom).

Iwazumi made his way back toward the hallway and faced your apartment’s front door again. You refastened both buttons he undid prior to reaching for the door knob.

“For what it’s worth,” your not-so-innocent tone in your voice begins to come through. His darkened eyes observe you undo your top knot and shook your shoulder-length hair to reveal the fullness of your wavy locks. You place your hand on his wrist and the other was on the door knob. He stopped you from opening the door with a softened glance; pressing his lips lightly on your brow bone.

“I really like it when you come over Iwazumi. Thank you for dropping off the book.” You tap your fingers thoughtfully on your lips as a silent form of thanking him for the other part outside of the tangible order.

“Hajime, y/n,” he whispers his given name in your ear in order to get one last rile out of you before kissing your temple, and you could swear you could hear your heart beat in your ears. “Call me that from now on, ok?”

“Ok,” you swiftly reply. “Only if you continue to call me Lovecraft, haha.”

Iwazumi takes his leave when he thinksof how the next time he sees you, it’ll be filled with magic, mayhem, and the movie playing in his heart was one he would like to share with you for as long as it takes.

You rush to your room to retrieve your cell phone and immediately text Yukihira who was in the middle of her break between classes:

『from y/n: i have a date on monday night. the book came btw. thanks yukihira』

『from Yukihira: iwazumi asked you to go out with him, didn’t he? have fun and remember to not do anything i wouldn’t do. ;) 』

『from y/n: of course. and even if we did, i wouldn’t even hear the end of it from you. you’d might have an easier time talking to iwazumi than me, let’s be honest.』

『from Yukihira: (n˘v˘•)¬ oh you know me so well. see you later tonight.』

—November XX, 14:43 (2:43pm):

First dates & a glimpse into their social medias (ft. Iwazumi, Babs (y/n), & Yukihira)

Iwazumi credit

Suffice to say that Mondays became your favorite day after this kiss...😌

Bonus:

Instagram posts from our UCIrvine trio ft. Iwazumi, Yukihira, & Y/N-san

#iwazumi x reader #timeskip!iwazumi x reader #collegiate au #first kisses and monster movies #neighbor to lover #⏱queued post #iwa-chan wore glasses one day #west coast kind of love completed #🌻— flying around collecting pollen—queue #🌻.txt

19 notes · View notes

copias-thrall · 4 years

Text

This is Halloween (Halloween)

Mary expands Suey's world by taking her to a crazy art party.

(Part: 1; 2; 3; 4; 5; 6; 7; 8; 9)

It’s one of the stretches where you actually haven’t seen Mary in a few days. He’d apparently been by your apartment—dishes were done and he took out your trash—but you’d spent that day hunkered down at a coffee shop so you could have sandwiches with a friend who got a job downtown. And while Mary can be lyrical when he wants to be, his texts are usually brief and full of letters that only make sense to him in his shorthand … so you’re not ever going to get any missives from the front lines from him.

Which is fine: you’re super-busy and full of your own hobbies. Like napping. And complaining. Occasionally you’ll round that out with chip-eating. You’ve never been particularly creative—which makes Mary wince at you every now and then (you love art, you’re just not … adept, and sometimes it seems unfair that he can write music AND lyrics AND doodle great sketches)—but you are a voracious reader. You’d been shocked to find out that not only had Mary read Austen, but he also had a love of Persuasion—a novel you yourself found superior to Pride & Prejudice. He’d been similarly chuffed when he’d realized you liked Chuck Palahniuk for more than just Fight Club.

Which is all to say that when Mary’s not around, you like to combine your hobbies—a little chip eating while you read, only to fall asleep with the book on your face.

Tonight is no exception.

It’s nearly Halloween (it’s tomorrow actually, and you’re only slightly bummed that Mary has to work), so in honor of the holiday you’re working your way through an anthology of Lovecraft. Unexpectedly, there's a knock at your door. You check your phone, but there are no texts.

Hmm.

There’s another knock, so you set down the book and sprint to your bedroom to take up what Mary has dubbed your “Masher Hammer.” You make it back to your apartment door just in time for a third series of knocks. When you look out the peephole, however, it’s clear that whoever’s on the other side is blocking the viewer.

Gripping your hammer tight—ready for swing mode—you unlatch your door and open it.

You’re met with the sight of a Jack O’Lantern.

No—

Not a Jack O’Lantern … some guy with a carved pumpkin on his head.

“Ta-d—Jesus Christ, Suey … put Masher down,” says a muffled voice.

“Mary?”

Mary lifts the pumpkin—a real pumpkin, not a plastic basket from the dollar store—a little off his head enough for you to make out his face. You lower your swinging arm.

“Why is there a pumpkin on your head? What are you doing here?”

He spreads his arms out and does jazz hands. “Mischief Night!”

When you just stand there squinting at him, he finally takes the pumpkin fully off his head. His hair is squashed, and he’s only wearing some light makeup around his eyes and on his lips.

“So, you gonna let me in, or … should I duck?”

“Oh, right,” you say as you step back.

As Mary suanters in, you can see his eyes sweep to the couch where you’ve made a nest of blankets and pillows—your book lying face down, and the open bag chips positioned at an optimal angle on the coffee table.

“That looks nice.” He sidles up to you to squeeze your tits through your hoodie. “Almost makes me want to call it a night and get cozy in those blankets … I could crush those chips and lick them off you before I eat you out.”

His hand slides down to your crotch.

You’re trying to take him seriously, but he’s holding a pumpkin under his arm. You snap at his face.

“Mary—focus. What the hell?”

He gives you a put out look, exaggeratedly pushing out his bottom lip—but it’s soon replaced with a wicked grin.

“Mischief Night! Do you wanna go to a weird-ass art party?”

“An art party?” you ask dubiously.

“No, not what you’re thinking.”

He sets down the carved pumpkin on your table and walks to your fridge, rummaging around before pulling out the pisswater beer he keeps around.

“Think of it as a teen-movie house party—but on steroids and no one there got laid in high school. With, you know: art.”

“That’s … very specific.”

He walks back over to you, cradling the beer in one hand, and puts the other on your shoulder.

“We are under no obligation to participate in the orgy.”

You don’t think he’s joking.

He gives you a once over. “It’s also a—hmm—masquerade, so we gotta get you outfitted.”

Your mind darts.

“I only have those stupid headband cat ears my friend got me as a joke.”

He gives you a vulpine smile. “You’re gonna go as me.”

It had been a fun little party of two as you’d put on a YouTube Halloween playlist from your phone. Mary’d given you a dramatic mohawk with his precious airplane glue, then fished around in the pink makeup bag with hearts (that you’d put his stash in as a joke and he’d kept) to give you his iconic look—blood and all.

There was no way you were going to fit in his skinny jeans, but you’d been able to pair one of his well-worn tees (that you hadn’t already stolen) with your favorite denim skirt. Mary had taken off one of his studded belts to wrap around you—it’d needed a couple of safety pins to act as extensions, but Mary had assured you that that just made the style more authentic. Upon Mary’s request, you’d put on your ripped fishnets, and you had your own worn Docs to complete the look.

“Do I get to be a sex-crazed jerk all night?” you’d asked as you’d admired yourself in the corroded full-length you had propped up by the bathroom.

“You say that as if that’s something new and different for you—fuck ow,” said Mary as you’d tapped his balls.

“So where is this place?” you ask as Mary and you head to the train.

It’s in the old factory district, which means it’s a ways away, but still subway accessible.

“It’s actually in a converted co-op. I think they started out as squatters—unclear—but now it’s above board as a residence and shit. I used to know a guy who lived there for a while—they had sectioned off areas with screens—and he had a corner so he slept in a hammock. Most of the space is for their art, though. What a fucking life to live.”

You look at him, incredulous. “Mare. You live in a 2 bedroom with 4 other dudes.”

He scoffs at you. “We also have a couch. It’s a whole ‘nother level.”

You just hum at him.

When you finally get there—after a few mis-turns in this silent neighborhood full of abandoned brick factories—you’re surprised (despite Mary’s description) to see that the place is lit. There’s a guy standing at the entrance to the parking lot (that slopes dangerously toward the river) checking attendees; it becomes clear that not only is he checking for 21+, but for alcohol and toilet paper. Those without either have to “donate” $10.

“Oh—” says Mary right before it’s about to be your turn. “I’m not Mary tonight.”

“What should I call, then? The ‘Great Pumpkin’?”

“Just not Mary,” he hisses as you shore up to the “bouncer.”

The guy is not in any kind of costume—just grey sweats and a sports team hat. He’s sitting on a bar stool, and he has a little flashlight he’s using to check IDs.

“Hey, guys!” he says cheerily. “Welcome to Magical Mischief Mystery at the Factory. IDs? Ah! TP and suds? Cool, cool.”

He checks your IDs, then looks at you, then your IDs … then at Mary’s pumpkin face, then at you.

“OH MY GOD,” he starts chortling and slips off the stool to grab Mary’s arm. “Mary, you old bastard—I haven’t seen you since Dusty left to get hitched.”

You take a deep breath and—in your best screamo voice—you say, “I’m fucking Mary Goore,” (not a lie) “and he’s ‘Late for Dinner’.”

The pumpkin head turns to you. You can feel Mary’s unamused gaze.

The bouncer starts wheezing so hard that you’re afraid he might expire from laughing.

“Fuck, fuck,” gasps the dude. He shakes his head, eyes watery from mirth, and waves the two of you through.

“I hate you,” says Mary.

“I didn’t call you ‘Mary’, though,” you quip as you slip your arm through his.

“Why do I have to carry all the shit? Here. Pull your fucking weight.”

Mary hands you the toilet paper roll he heisted from your bathroom.

“Are we going to TP something?” you ask as you take the roll from him.

“Heh. No, it’s purely functional. This many people? It’s so the bathrooms don’t run out.”

The two of you enter with another mass of people, traveling through the miasma of secondhand smoke from the smokers. You cough, but Mary inhales deep, sighing. You’re not sure what you were expecting, but you gape as you look around.

You and Mary stand on an open floor—which is what 5 or so floors look out onto all the way up. The place is crowded, but not jam packed. There’s a makeshift kitchen area where a dude in a bare chest and suspenders is accepting the toilet paper and libations. Above him is a white sheet that’s stretched out, on which an Art Film is being projected. The film has no sound because in the far corner there’s a DJ spinning, and a group of people are “dancing” to his jams. Mary was right: it’s like some kind of frat party for the artsy set. Because of the theme, most everyone is in a mask of some sort, and people—or groups of people—are making out in corners in various states of undress.

Mary grabs two beers, then leads you to a staircase—there’s a freight elevator by it, but it’s got cheesy Halloween “do not enter” tape blocking it.

“The first year too many people loaded into it, and it dropped 3 floors before the emergency brakes kicked in,” says Mary as he notices where you’re looking.

In a loft on the second floor you and Mary watch a woman—nude and covered in white paint—become the canvas to her girlfriend’s landscape painting.

In what’s clearly a shared bedroom, you and Mary peruse some really great paintings and sketches from what must be a number of the co-op residents.

“You should have told me to bring cash,” you say.

“We can always come back. I know a guy.”

You imagine Mary’s probably winking at you.

On the third floor there’s an inexplicable open-air kitchen attached to a bathroom. In it there’s a dude doling out beer from a keg.

“What’s this,” Mary asks him.

“It’s my homemade IPA, dude! Pumpkin for the season!”

He hands Mary a business card.

“We have a small space in the boonies, but we’re trying to get a brewery up and running in the city. Red tape though, man.”

“I fucking hear that.” Mary takes a sip. “Good shit, dude.”

The guy high-fives Mary.

“One for your girl?”

Mary hands you the solo cup, and you take a sip. You were expecting something grassy and hoppy—but the pumpkin actually balances it out nicely without it itself being cloyingly sweet. When you nod, Mary just lets you have his and indicates to the brewer to pump another cup.

The two of you enter what you think might usually be a studio space, but instead there’s a burlesque performance going on. There are some people making out, but Mary and you watch, rapt, praising the skill of the performers to each other.

The fourth floor has the least amount of people. Someone is doing a reading in one corner, and across the way there’s some sort of performance art going on. A woman stands in a white shift and gauze. Every time a dude who looks like a Nazgul rings a bell, she contorts herself to a different pose with a dancer’s ease.

You roll your eyes, but Mary begs your patience—watching solemnly as she continues.

“What is it?” you ask when the set is clearly over.

“Did you not feel it?”

“Uh …”

Even through the pumpkin you can feel his eyes on you.

“She’s a dancing monkey. Bound and constrained, only ever allowed to perform at the whim of her faceless master.”

“Mary …”

“No—don’t scoff. That was meant for you. It’s an allegory for the patriarchy, and I for one found it quite moving.”

You guess you can see it now that Mary’s pointed it out to you. He takes off the pumpkin, and you hold it while he goes over to talk to the woman. You shift uncomfortably as they engage, and she grabs his hands, shaking them profusely. Mary suddenly points over at you, and the woman waves and motions you over.

“Oh my god, look at you!” she squeals. She turns back to Mary. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it—she looks just like you.”

“I liked your patriarchal allegory,” you say.

Mary twists his mouth at you, but the woman just presses her hands to her chest.

“Thank you so much. I’m testing it out here as a protest piece. A bunch of us are going to travel to different cities and perform outside of big corporations.” She grabs Mary’s wrist. “Your boyfriend is wonderful. His song about—”

“—my band’s song—”

“—the nature of performative gender roles is one of my favs.”

You have no idea which song she’s talking about, but Mary looks pleased. So you’re pleased. You wrap your arm around his waist.

“He is pretty great.”

She lifts her veil to chug the glass of water Nazgul hands her.

“It was so nice to meet you person to person, Mary. I’m going to find the ladies before my next performance.”

“Love your work, Lizzy. I’ll put you on the list for our shows. Show up anytime!”

She bows and shuffles backwards as Mary leads you away.

“You have no idea what song she’s talking about do you?”

“I—” you sputter. “Uh. Dead Things?”

Mary looks at you indulgently.

“I’ll let you think about it.”

It turns out that the 5th floor is off limits to party goers, so Mary—back in his Jack O’Lantern—and you wander down to ground level to acquire more beer and to join the crowd of dancers. At some point the two of you take a break to pee, then hydrate as you add your own dialogue to the film on loop above you.

Back on the dance floor, there’s some skanking, some goth writhing, and some line dancing as the DJ spins his own set and sprinkles in some crowd requests. At this point in the night, most of the attendees have already made passes through the upper floors and are now all on the dance floor. Mary does some goth stomping (his pumpkin abandoned and now being passed around), and you do a silly skank until you slip on a slick spot and fall on your ass. After that, Mary pulls you close and grinds against you, his thigh between yours, both of you buzzed from multiple trips to the bar.

“Do you wanna find a corner?” he whispers into your ear.

In any other situation you’d probably say no … but—for all the crowd is packed—this is clearly a private party, one whose hosts don’t frown upon a little bit of lechery. You guess he wasn’t kidding about the orgy, after all.

“Yeah,” you breathe.

It takes a little investigation, but Mary and you find a room that seems to have been either designated or usurped as the makeout room. There’s a writhing mass in one corner, and the bed is covered in rolling bodies. There’re some breathy invitations—and a hand or two lightly caresses your calf as you walk by—but no one insists on participation further than that.

Mary yanks a pillow from the bed and tosses it to the floor. He pulls you down so that you’re both on your knees, his mouth capturing yours and his hands alighting everywhere. A hand of his sneaks down your skirt, and yours slithers down his jeans—the roving fingers of you each more a prelude than anything, stoking you both up to what’s next.

“Can I fuck you?” huffs Mary.

“Kinda drunk,” you say.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No—just not gonna be very useful,” you giggle.

Because you wore the fishnets you’re not wearing underwear, so all Mary has to do is rip a hole in the crotch area—they’re not even good fishnets, so it’s not like there’s a liner to contend with. He grunts at your wetness.

“You sure?”

“Fuck me, Mary.”

He fumbles with his dick, finally managing to sink it into you. It’s a very awkward fuck—you’re lolling all about the place, and Mary isn’t being particularly steady.

At one point a light turns on only for a Sorry! to squeal out as it turns off again.

You try to swallow your laugh, but your jiggling belly can’t hide your reaction, and soon Mary is laughing too.

“Fuck … shut up … fuck,” he giggles. “I’m trying to get off here.”

You’re just catapulted into further fits, and before long Mary’s soft cock is slipping out of you as he joins you in snickering.

“Crap. I might be too drunk for this too.”

The two of you lay like that for a bit, a feedback loop of laughter, until your belly muscles ache.

“Fuck. Take me home, Suey.”

“Yeah, ok,” you say.

After some readjusting, you both stumble out of the room. The crowd has thinned, but that’s not to say the dance party isn’t still going strong.

“We should get a cab,” you say.

“Cash?” Mary asks as you guys shuffle out of the building.

“App,” you say as you hold up your phone to poke at your cab app. “My card s’on file.”

“Fancy.”

“S’for emergencies.”

“Oh.”

You give him a lopsided grin. “Like staying too late at a factory party.”

There’s a comedy of errors when the cab can’t find you and cancels, and you have to rebook—only to have the same cab automatically cancel your order again. Mary calls the number for dispatch, and they direct you out to a main street. The cab that picks you up is the same cab that voided your reservation twice, and he yells at you for giving him the wrong address.

You let Mary argue with him (content to doze on his shoulder)—the conclusion seeming to be that while you put in the correct address, the app didn’t like it and spit out a close, but different, pickup address.

By the end of the trip, however, the cabbie and Mary seem to be old friends. He lingers even after the driver validates your card, talking with the guy about where he’s from, until you tug on his arm.

“Sleepy,” you grumble into him.

The cab driver laughs.

“We are beholden to our women, yes?”

“Happily,” says Mary as he wraps an arm around you.

“Have a good night,” says the cabbie, and Mary just raps on the car, waving as it pulls away.

“What a cool dude,” he says as the two of you shuffle toward your building.

“Mhm,” you mumble.

“Jesus, you’re useless when you’re drunk.”

There’s a lot of fumbling and stumbling, but you both finally make it into your apartment. Somehow Mary gets you into the shower, which you don’t even realize until it turns on, and you shriek when the cold water smacks you in the face before it has the chance to warm up.

“Why am I still in my clothes?!” you whine.

Mary pokes his head in.

“You fucking serious? You almost bit off my fingers when I tried to undress you!”

“I’m more than just sex!” you yell.

“Just fucking wash your face.”

“Kay.”

You fall asleep sitting in the shower, waking only when the water turns cold. It seems to have had a sobering effect, because you definitely feel more clear headed than when you entered—it’s not as funny to be slightly sober and peeling off your cold, wet clothes. Usually you give your teeth the full experience, but tonight (this morning?), you just give them a quick brush.

For all he seemed soberer of you two, Mary doesn’t seem to have fared much better. He managed to get his shirt off, but he’s lying on your bedroom floor—curled in a ball—still in his unbuckled jeans. It would be amusing—and maybe after sleep it will be—if you weren’t so wrecked. It’s a struggle tugging off his jeans, and he semi-wakes halfway through and starts to shiver.

“Wha—?”

He looks at you blearily.

“Help me get your pants off, Mare bear.”

He blinks down at his legs, then sort of squirms his legs to help you wiggle him out of the black denim. Luckily—disorientated as he is—he’s able to assist you in getting him into your bed; he conks out again the minute you trundle him under the covers. The night outside is lightening, and you know there’s no way you can work tomorrow. Today.

Whatever.

You shuffle into your living room and start up your laptop, blinking rapidly as it boots up. When it finally loads, you send off a missive to your supervisor about potential food poisoning you’ve contracted, but how you’ll check your email later this afternoon. You preemptively down some ibuprofen and sneak some of Mary’s Pedialyte.

Mary seems dead to the world when you climb into your bed, but he’s rolling over and wrapped around you as soon as you’re settled, huffing into your neck.

“Took the morning off,” you mumble.

He hums.

You’re in a good doze when he speaks, jarring you back awake.

“Had fun?”

“Yeah, Mare. Now, shh.”

He mumbles something into your neck, but it’s too incoherent and you’re too knackered to decipher it. You just relax into his koala embrace and let sleep take you.

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#mary goore #ofc #feral cats fic #gritty girls #gutter punk #my writing #original post #no smut #...kinda #original content

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