#i saw someone ask for prints and like yeah i'd buy a few

[dees-writing-corner]

museum date

pairing: hongjoong x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 1242

a/n this is the second part of this, but can be read on its own

I am back and pain-free for the first time in 6 months 🎉

main masterlist

Taking a deep breath, I stepped out of the car and up the stairs towards the entrance of the museum.  

Okay, you can do this. It's just Hongjoong. Nothing to worry about, so just calm down.  

As I got closer to the entrance, I looked around to see if I could see a familiar mop of Cruella-inspired hair, and lo-and-behold, there he was, leaning against a pillar as he scrolled through his phone.  

Walking up the last couple of steps, I made my way towards him, "Hongjoong."  

Hearing someone call him, he looked up from his phone, a smile making its way across his face when he spotted me, "You made it."  

Grinning, he pushed himself off of the pillar and pulled me into a brief hug.  

"Of course I made it. Have you been waiting long?"  

Pulling me along with him, we made our way into the museum, "Not really, just got here 5 minutes ago."  

Walking through the museum, we made our way to a new exhibit that showcased some pieces of art from modern artists.  

Stopping in front of a large slate of bone china, I held back the urge to smile.  

Hongjoong stepped closer, inspecting the artwork on it carefully, "Woah. This is amazing. I didn't realise you could print on ceramic at such a large scale."  

Standing next to him, I looked at the art, "This is a pretty recent development, like, only within the last decade or so. The machine they used to print the art wasn't actually meant for doing this. I think it was originally meant for larger rolls of ceramic fibre paper."  

Raising an eyebrow, Hongjoong looked at me, "And you know this because?"  

Grinnng, I turned to him completely, "Because my dad was the one who did the printing. His company did a collaboration with the artist who wanted his artwork on bone china instead of a normal canvas. They are actually the only company that is using the machine to print on ceramic, and my dad is one of the few people in the country who knows how to run the machine properly."  

"Wait. For real?"  

Laughing slightly, I pointed towards the introduction plate underneath, "That's my dad's name right under the artists, and if we look down slightly, there's my name because I was the one who wrote the introduction."  

Hongjoong just stood there for a moment before shaking his head, "Yeah, I shouldn't be so surprised, Wooyoung did tell me that you came from a rather wealthy family that dabbled with art and whatnot."  

Moving away from the pieces, we made our way further into the museum.  

"Oh? You've asked about me, have you?"  

Grinning, I watched as the tips of his ears slowly changed from a light shade of pink to full-on red. 

"No, well yes, but like-" 

Fumbling over his words a little, he stopped trying to explain when he caught sight of the teasing glint in my eyes. 

"You know what? You're as bad as Wooyoung." 

Shoving him slightly, I let out a dramatic gasp, "Excuse me? Do not compare me to the actual spawn of Satan. I am nothing of the sort." 

Pursing my lips, I jokingly tilted my head upwards, looking down my nose at him, before I broke out into a fit of laughter. 

Walking around the museum, I stopped in front of a sculpture as Hongjoong went ahead to look at some paintings.  

The sculpture was of two people, a man and a woman. They were standing back-to-back with one of their hands intertwined between them. The man was looking forwards while the woman had her eyes cast down, sad smiles etched on their faces.  

"Do you want to know the story behind the sculpture?"  

Turning my head to the side, I saw an elderly woman standing beside me, a warm smile on her face.  

Smiling lightly, I nodded, "Yeah, I'd like that."  

"Her father was one of the highest-ranking military personnel at the time. Growing up, she had the best things money could buy besides the most basic things. Her parents were busy all the time and were rarely home. The friends that she had were only there because being seen with her would give them social status. She was lonely until she met him. He grew up poor, his parents barely made enough to keep a roof over their heads, but they were always there for him. They taught him how to love, and he taught her how to love. As time went on, they fell in love with each other but they knew that her parents would never approve of him."  

Glancing at the woman, I could see her eyes glistening as a sad smile made its way onto her face. Her eyes forever stayed on the features of the man.  

"This sculpture depicts the moment her father caught them together, seconds before blood was shed. The man stared ahead, not fearing anything as she looked down, not wanting to face what was going to happen. They both knew what would happen if they got caught. A shot was fired and the woman felt her lover gradually fall to his knees. She never found another lover after him."  

With soft eyes, I turned to her, "The woman, she's you, isn't she?"  

"She is. I come here every single day."  

Taking a seat on one of the benched, she patted the space next to her.  

"The young man you came with, is he your boyfriend?"  

Slightly flustered, I shook my head, "No, we actually only met yesterday through a friend."  

"Well, my dear, I can tell that something's going to happen between you two. He has the same look in his eyes as my Edward held in his when we first met."  

With a knowing smile, she got up and walked away, leaving me sitting there staring after her.  

A few moments later, I felt someone sit down next to me, "What's got you so deep in thought?" 

Turning, I stared straight into Hongjoong's eyes, noticing that they did indeed hold something different in them.  

"Nothing, I just talked to a wonderful old lady and she left me thinking over something, that's all."  

"Hmm, if you say so, come on, let's go grab a coffee or something."  

Standing up, Hongjoong held out his hand for me to take. Holding his hand, I let him lead me out of the museum and down the bustling streets.  

By the time we finished the coffee and dinner, it was already 8 in the evening and Hongjoong had offered to walk me back home.  

Stopping in front of the house, I turned to Hongjoong.  

"This is me."  

Smiling, I watched as he scratched the back of his neck.  

"I really had fun today, and I was hoping we could do it again?"  

Nodding, "Yeah, I'd like that."  

A smile made its way to his face, "Great!"  

He hesitantly leaned in and pressed a kiss on my cheek, "I'll talk to you later?"  

"Talk to you later."  

Bidding each other goodnight, I entered the house and leaned against the door before taking my phone out to call Wooyoung.  

"Dude! You should've introduced us sooner! He's literally perfect!"  

That night, I spent on the phone with Wooyoung, squealing every so often when Hongjoong texted me.  

"You do know that you're currently acting like a schoolgirl right now talking to her crush, right?" 

[arrowflier]

could you write ian and mickey furniture shopping and mickey just getting everything he wants? i feel like ian isn't really someone who cares all that much about what stuff they get as long as it's affordable and comes with some plants and i'd hope he just lets mickey do his thing and enjoys his happy husband. it's about time they get what they want <3

Relevant to your interests: bed shopping

---

"This one is nice," Ian said, stroking a hand along the back of a velvety sofa. He circled it and plopped down unceremoniously, the cushions dipping gently under his weight.

"Soft, too," he added, wriggling his ass on it for effect.

"No," Mickey vetoed immediately, and Ian pouted.

"Why, what's wrong with this one?" he asked. "The last one was too traditional, the one before that too firm--"

"No point in a couch if it ain't more comfortable than the floor--"

"--and you have to pick one at some point!" Ian finished, rolling his head back against the cushions in exasperation.

"Gallagher," Mickey said. "It's red."

Ian's brow crinkled. He reached up to toy with the hair above his ear, frowning.

"What's wrong with red?" he asked. "You like red."

Mickey rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, I like red on you, you dork," he confirmed, slapping Ian's hand away so he could tug playfully on that same patch of hair.

"That's why we can't have a red couch," he continued. "Do you even know how bad you clash right now?"

Ian looked up at him innocently, and Mickey sighed.

"Of course you don't," he muttered, letting go of Ian's hair to turn and collapse onto the furniture beside him. "No goddamn taste, I swear."

He leaned forward, ran a hand over his face. They'd been at this for over an hour now, and all they had to show for it were some cheap end tables and a couple of bar stools for the kitchen island. And even that had been a struggle, Ian flitting from monstrosity to garish monstrosity until Mickey finally managed to talk him into classic materials and clean lines.

There would be no animal print cushions or rainbow-colored acrylic in his apartment, fuck you very much.

Fighting over furniture with Ian was exhausting--he had said they wouldn't have the same taste, and he was right--but at least Ian didn't seem to mind. He stroked a hand up Mickey's back to rest at the base of his neck, shook him slightly until he let the hand fall from his face.

"Come on, Mick," Ian encouraged. "There's gotta be something here somewhere."

"We've been across the whole fucking floor already" Mickey pointed out, raising his head. "If there were something here, we would have found it by--"

His eyes caught on a sofa a few rows over.

"--now," he finished faintly, and stood.

"We look at this one yet?" he called back to Ian as he walked over to it. The black leather was smooth to his touch, butter soft and faintly warm. His fingers skipped over the simple nailhead details on the arm, the metal cool. It reminded him of an old motorcycle jacket Mandy used to wear, the one that had belonged to their mom.

"Uh, no," Ian answered, coming up behind him. "This whole row was off limits remember? They're like, hundreds over our budget."

Oh. Right.

Mickey let his hand fall, clenched it at his side, and released it with a breath.

"Right," he said lowly. "Never mind, let's look over by the coffee tables again."

He went to turn, but Ian grabbed his hand.

"Hey, wait," Ian said, biting his lip. "You really like this one?"

Mickey looked at it again. He saw the punk-rock metal studs, the clean black leather. Imagined it in their living room, Ian stretched out on one side, pale skin and red hair against the tall back. Thought of sitting on it with him, eating dinner, watching tv, talking. Just being them, on their couch, in their apartment.

"Yeah," Mickey said. "Yeah, I do." Then he shook his head, and pulled his hand away from Ian's.

"Doesn't matter," he said. "Can't afford it, man, come on."

Ian doesn't.

"What if we could?" Ian pressed. "Would you want it?"

Mickey just looked at him. "Yes."

Ian nodded.

"Then we're getting it," he said decisively.

"No, we're not," Mickey countered. "Ian, do you even like it?"

Ian hesitated.

"We're not spending a fortune we don't have on something you don't even like, Ian," Mickey said. "The whole point is to get stuff for the two of us, and every fuckin' time you see it you'll get annoyed about it."

Ian shook his head, and took a step closer.

"I won't," he said. "I promise." He took Mickey's hand again, didn't let him pull away.

"When I see it, I'll think about you," he continued. "About how your eyes lit up when you saw it. And we can swing it, we can," he added. "It might be a little tight for a few weeks, but..."

He stepped closer, the toes of their shoes bumping together.

"We get to have nice things now, Mickey," he said. "And I know you said you don't want nice things, but hey." He shrugged. "This could be yours."

Mickey looked at him. Looked at their hands. Looked at the sofa.

"Alright," he agreed. "Then I want it."

Ian's grin was blinding.

"Then we're getting it," he said happily. He took a step back, falling backward onto the cushions of the black sofa and bringing Mickey with him, catching him as he landed awkwardly across his lap.

"And to make it up to me about that red one," Ian added, "I'm getting that planter from earlier."

Mickey grimaced.

"Not the fuckin' ass one," he complained. "Don't want that thing on my table, man."

"You didn't have a problem with asses on the table last night," Ian said with a smirk, and Mickey groaned.

Then he let his head fall back onto the cushions next to Ian's, and gave in.

If he got to buy this couch, Ian could have all the weird fuckin' planters he wanted. He could fill their entire house with succulents and shit, and Mickey would watch him freak out over them from his soft, leather throne.

[ivebeentolddreamingsfree]

10 I've Been Told Dreaming's Free

Chapter Ten

Charlotte gets played.

Pretending to be distracted by flipping through the stack of prints she and Jerry just did in the darkroom, Charlotte listened to some bottle blonde girl flirt with Jerry while he was picking up two bottles of Budweiser at the bar.

After they printed all the photographs they wanted and cleaned up the darkroom, Jerry took Charlotte in his rumbling van to Pagliacci's, the nearby pizza place.

"I know you," she purred, placing her hand on his chest. "You play in that band ...I saw you guys play at the Off Ramp. You're really good."

"Yeah?" Jerry's tone made Charlotte roll her eyes. She could tell he was eating it up. "Thanks. We're playing at the Moore on Saturday. You should come down."

Charlotte glanced up at the same time the girl shot her a look. She quickly dropped her gaze to the photos again.

"I think I will. What's your name again?"

"Jerry. Our band is Alice In Chains."

Charlotte had to admit that maybe Jerry was only interested in getting more people to the show but she remembered that thing Stone told her about Jerry.

He sat down across from her and held out a longneck bottle of beer for her. "Pizza will be up in ten or so."

She took the bottle and smiled. "Thanks. New friend?"

"Yeah, just someone wanting to see the show."

"Mm." Charlotte took a drink and put the bottle down.

The girl appeared at their table and slide Jerry a folded-up napkin. "I'm Jackie. Call me."

Charlotte opened her mouth, about to tell the girl to fuck off, when Stone and Jeff entered the restaurant. They immediately joined Jerry and Charlotte, each sliding into the booth on either side. Jeff essentially trapped Jackie and forced her onto the bench between him and Jerry.

"Hey! Imagine meeting you guys here. What are you doing?" Stone asked, putting his arm up, behind Charlotte, on the back of the bench.

"Grabbing a beer and some pizza. What are you doing here?" Charlotte bit down her frown.

Stone started chattering away. Charlotte tried to keep up but couldn't ignore the fact that Jackie took it as an opportunity to get closer to Jerry. Soon the two of them were whispering and laughing together.

"...and then this chick doesn't even show up. So Jeff's all bummed he got stood up and I told him I'd buy him a pizza."

"I didn't get stood up, Stone. She told me her brother got the flu."

"And you believed that?" Stone laughed and shook his head. "My poor, naive Jeffrey." He reached across and patted Jeff on his head.

Charlotte was sure Stone was about to lose that arm.

"So Jerry, who's this fine young girl we've never seen you with before?"

Charlotte inwardly groaned. She knew what Stone was trying to do.

"This is Jackie. We just met." Jerry threw Charlotte a quick glance, but she was unable to interpret its meaning.

"Oh, sweet! You developed these pictures?" Stone picked up the stack of photos and flipped through them.

"Jerry and I just did it in the darkroom."

Everybody at the table stopped talking and looked at her.

"The pictures. We developed the pictures. God."

"Wait ..." Stone looked from Charlotte to Jerry. "You guys are, like, friends now, or something?"

"Yeah." Charlotte squirmed. Her left hand immediately shot into her hair, curling a lock around her index finger. She looked at Jerry, who coughed and slid his arm around Jackie, tapping her opposite shoulder. "Yeah. Friends." She smiled at Stone. If Jerry wanted to play this game, she could, too. "Next time I have a few rolls of film, I could teach you how to develop them, too."

Jeff and Stone ordered another pizza and a couple beers and somehow Jackie was still there with them while they all ate. Charlotte and Jerry exchanged brief glances while Stone and Jackie chattered away.

"I never got your name," Jackie finally addressed Charlotte.

"I'm Chuck."

"Chuck?" Jackie laughed. "That's weird."

"It's not weird. It's kinda cool. Her name is Charlotte, named after her dad, Charles. But he goes by Charlie so they nicknamed her Chuck." Stone explained.

But Jackie still laughed. "Okay. Anyway, do you go to U-Dub?"

Bristled, and somewhat thankful to Stone, Charlotte nodded. "Freshman. You?"

Jackie smirked. "That's cute. I'm a junior." She looked at Jerry when she said it.

"Hey, Stone? Did you drive? Think you can give me a lift back to my apartment?" Charlotte asked as she started to push him out of the booth. "I'm ready to get out of here."

Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw Jerry open his mouth to stop her. She hoped, anyway. But he didn't say anything. Instead, Charlotte watched him leave with Jackie.

In the car, Jeff sat in the backseat, letting Charlotte have the passenger seat. She sat in silence, looking out the side window while Stone drove.

"Hey, you okay? You weren't ...I mean, I told you how he is."

"Yeah. I mean no. I mean yeah, I'm fine. I know what you told me. No big deal. We were just hanging out. He wanted ...I guess he wanted to see how my pictures came out." She gave Stone a weak smile and immediately returned her attention to the streets outside.

[audiovisualrecall]

Crying at 1 am bc missed opportunities, awkwardness, issues, anxiety. Like a sense of loss and grief even tho it's silly. Like, I saw espo at the show and I was there with ma and I suddenly got anxious and was overthinking what id talk to him about and that id be interrupting his convo w this other guy if I said hi and then ma had to push me to go say hi and then said I was feeling anxious and he was just like yknow cool abt it like why, you know me, and I didn't have an answer, and it's like my mom asked him how he was before I could ask, so then he ended up going back to chatting w the other guy again and i feel like it was both awkward and a missed opportunity to talk, plus I hate feeling and looking like a child, I don't know why it happens but if I go somewhere with a parent I feel like a kid and so even tho it's normal to have family come to an art show opening w u, I just fell into that. Or something. And I didn't know really anyone else there, except one person I spotted, but like, I just tend to assume ppl dont want to actually talk to me, that I'll annoy them, so I didn't go over to nate to talk but I did make eye contact and smile as I walked past them. And then espo vanished and basically the whole time was just me and ma wandering around looking at art and discussing stuff occasionally and grabbing a few food items occasionally and walking around in circles and me hovering near my paintings hoping someone would approach me to talk abt them or something. And then so mine are not for sale bc I'm attached to most of my paintings, I'm a dragon, they're my dragon hoard. So in the booklet some pieces have prices and some are listed nfs, so this guy was apparently interested in buying something? Idk if he was the one who bought this one photograph or not, but he asked me if mine were nfs or not and I told him yeah they're not for sale and he was like ok and moved on, and even tho I wasn't gonna change my mind, I wish I'd had business cards with me or something bc I can do prints, and i also will take painting commissions!! But I didn't have any on me bc they didn't arrive yet. And so I missed that opportunity completely. And I was just also thinking abt how many opportunities I've missed or declined because of health stuff or anxiety or distance from home, and it sucks, I want to do things but I'm not brave and I'm not able to do some things and I can't give myself my own humira and I'm also a hopelessly awkward anxious stupid child. If i had gone alone to the opening, maybe I would've talked to people I didn't know about their work, maybe I wouldn't have been anxious about talking to prof esposito. But then, maybe it would've been worse. I don't know. And really it was fine, it went well, I did enjoy it anywau, and first of all I went even tho I was anxious about going at all for multiple reasons and tried to back out last minute, I went, I stayed almost the whole time really, long after others had left, and I didn't have a bad time. But my brain wants to dwell and regret and pick pick pick at everything. When will I be able to feel comfortable around other people, when can I not feel hyperaware of my awkwardness and not overthink everything and just let myself talk to people, when will I not feel like an overdressed awkward child in a room full of adults, when will not knowing people not intimidate me, when will I be ok talking to people I do know, when will I be able to act normal when I'm with my mom and/or dad around others...