#it’s really late though… I guess I could open doodle request hour tonight and get to em tomorrow

[soup-for-ghosts]

team asano rpgs are living in my brain so rent free that I am paying them to be there

[devnny]

CHAPTER TWO.

JTRM — THE “R” STANDS FOR RECOVERING!

PREVIOUSLY.

This is it fellas; the MEAT, the starting point that actually matters. It's all a damn mess hereafter. Devi, babey... forgive me, the Hell begins now! (And Johnny... please fucking behave yourself.) 

Dear Diary,

I’m back from vacation.

I have a date FUCK meeting with Devi. Yes, that Devi. Weird, no?

She grew a head-thing too, but she can control it, and she’s going to try and help me do that too… We’ll see how well that works out. She yells a lot… scary.

I haven’t totally given up on my emotional enema idea, though! Just gotta work on my temper. Why does everything have to be so aggravating?

--

3:00PM:

“I must be out of my fucking mind, Tenna.”

“I thought you just got over being out of your mind.” Tenna replied from the couch, squeaking Spooky as punctuation to her sentence.

“Don’t chastise me.” Devi moaned, loosely draped over her armchair. “Sickness has nothing on Nny.”

She dragged herself into an upright position to continue her complaints.

“AN ART LESSON FOR A MURDEROUS LUNATIC, yeah, innovative idea there, Devi!” She cried to the gods in vain. No gods could save her from the bed she’d made so neatly for herself.

“Maybe he won’t show up?” Tenna tilted her head further off of the couch in an attempt to make eye contact with her forlorn companion. Devi only melted further down her seat.

“That’s my only hope.” She sighed. “But knowing my luck, he’ll show up with a bouquet of severed hands for me. God it was so… weird talking to him again. Besides the topic being about personal insanity and death, it was sorta like old times.”

Tenna sat up to stare at her skeptically.

“Don’t tell me you missed him.”

“NO, no! Nothing as stupid as that.” Devi insisted. “Well, I mean, I did miss the Nny I thought I knew, but that’s kinda “sucks to suck”, seeing as that Nny wasn’t… really him.”

“And what if that was the real him? And you’re going to slowly scrape Mister Nice-guy out of his skull with your bare hands, like some kind of monkey artist-therapist combo?”

“I doubt that even more.”

Devi got up from her chair to scoop up the art tablet that was besmirched with Johnny’s drawing from off of the coffee table. The little stick figure he scribbled down had stayed there, mocking her, since his creator had left in the early morning hours. Johnny had only shared a couple of his “Happy Noodle Boy” comics with her long ago, likely because he was embarrassed about them. He had said he used to paint and sketch very detailed pieces, but as “something” – which she now knew was the “Doughboys” and wall-demon, and whatever else was involved with these brain parasites – overtook him, he lost all ability to create beyond these meager doodles. She couldn’t imagine a more horrid fate for a creative. For herself.

To some degree, she pitied him, but then she would remember he that tried to murder her and felt a lot less pity. Even if she understood now that he was hapless pawn, set forth to do obscene violence in the name of some otherworldly creature, all that said about him was that he was too weak-willed to stubbornly commit to his art the way she had – so could she even help someone like that?

It was irrelevant, she decided, since his new little “voice” wanted to involve her in his scheme to eat the last remaining bits of Johnny’s brain. If she didn’t try and aid him now, he would probably just manifest in a couple of months to try and either murder her or… worse.

She shook her head. Disgusting!

“I don’t have a choice with this Tenna.” Devi grumbled. “Or rather, I guess I do, and I’m choosing to deal with this now, instead of trusting Nny to have any mental wherewithal to fight this off and not turn into a puppet again.”

“That’s very brave of you, Devi. You’re an inspiration.” Tenna joked, wiping a fake tear away. Devi groaned.

“Thanks. Now get out of here, before the creature himself shows up.” She tossed the tablet back onto the table haphazardly. “I know how he acts around me, relatively anyway, but I don’t need extra company throwing him off-balance, and this ends up a double murder.”

“Okayyy, but if things get hairy, give me a code, like, three stomps on the floor, or eerie silence, or something, and I’ll call the cops!” She grinned from the doorway.

“WHAT GOOD WOULD IT DO!?” Devi steamed and slammed the door shut. She still had very bitter feelings about the city’s useless police force – demon intervention or not.

--

6:01PM:

Johnny sat with his knees up under his chin in the driver’s seat of his car. He pressed his shins against the steering wheel anxiously while he tried to think about what to do. He had gone home and bummed around – the house was still as he’d left it, only dustier, which was to be expected -- until the afternoon, after which he started panicking like the madman he was. What the hell was he supposed to do, actually show up to this thing against his wishes? An ‘art lesson’ with that intimidating woman that he didn’t particularly enjoy being around anymore, mostly because she berated him with scathing honesty now!? Ridiculous!

Yet he was here, parked behind a 24/7, less than a block from her apartments, at the time she requested he come. Curse her, and curse her rightness about all of this. He didn’t want to go.

Hesitantly he moved a hand over and grabbed a small bag of his own art supplies from home. Nothing fancy, but he preferred his own pens for inking comics, as he knew how they performed. Small increments of control was better than none, after all.

Johnny, bag clutched to his chest, exited his vehicle and kicked the door shut. As he walked from the alleyway to the sidewalk that lead to Devi’s building, he questioned all the uncertainties that he was headed directly towards.

The most basic of those worries was his timing for this meeting – arriving early was out of the question, but he had arrived almost exactly on time, which also seemed kind of pathetic. He hated getting caught up in these sort of social dilemmas – but since it involved another person, and one that he kinda-sorta respected in the highest regard, he wanted to make a good impression! What if she was irritated that he was even a minute late? Or what if that made him look totally creepy, and arriving loosely around 6:00PM was more of what she imagined? Stupid social cues!

Amongst his inner-monologuing, he failed to realize how close he was to Devi’s apartment until he was at the steps of the building. He cursed to himself, then treaded up into the lobby and checked the time on the digital wall clock that hung lopsided by the elevators. 6:14PM.

“Shit.” Johnny mumbled again. He didn’t want to hurry if this was supposed to be a casual timeframe, but he didn’t want to doddle either! He decided to take the stairs, but briskly.

--

FOUR FLOORS UP:

Devi had just started to think that the glimmer of a chance that Johnny wouldn’t show up was plausible, when the door knock came.

“Shit.” She griped from the kitchen. Her chest heaved out a sigh, and she aggressively set down her glass of water on the counter. This was going to be a long night, surely.

A few short strides to the door, and she opened it up to her expected guest. At least he didn’t have a bouquet of human limbs.

“Hi.” Johnny shot her a sideways smile. Devi did her best to hold in any unhappy noises, and tried to force what little optimism she had out from the very bottom of her soul.

“Hey, Nny.” She replied, only a little dryly. Johnny smiled wider at that.

“No bat tonight?” He pointed to her bare right hand. Devi looked down to it, then back at him.

“Don’t tempt me.” She stepped aside and let him in, hoping that the act wasn’t just as good as signing her death certificate. Johnny strolled in much too casually for her liking, but she ignored that, hoping to put off any bursts of maniacal rantings from him as long as she could.

Johnny looked around her apartment, like a normal house guest might, seeing as he was one this time. He inspected a few of her paintings with a thoughtful smile on his face and his hands crossed behind his back, still clutching his pencil bag. Devi’s eyebrow ticked in annoyance.

“I didn’t really get a good look at your apartment last night. It’s nice. Very you.” He hummed.

“Thanks.”

“These are your paintings aren’t they? I like them.”

“Thank you, Nny.” Devi rolled her eyes tiredly. “Can we focus here, a little bit?”

“I’m only trying to be polite! You were so kind to invite me back despite desperately wanting to smash my skull in yesterday.” He smiled at her again, almost arrogant, as though trapping her in small talk was a necessary evil, and if he had to suffer this social outing, so did she. Devi snorted.

“Your immense politeness is noted. Now let’s get on to what you’re here for.” She tilted her chin in his direction as she walked by, leading him further into the living room. She sat with a leg tented up on the floor, and Nny followed, sitting across from her with his feet together.

“I see you came prepared for this. That’s good.” She noted the little bag in his lap, choosing to assume it was art supplies and nothing sinister. Johnny grinned while Devi took up the same drawing pad from the night previous. He eagerly opened the pouch to spill out his pens and pencils onto the table. Devi held in any relief that she was right in her assumption.

“So. You just want me to draw?”

“Yeah.”

“And you really think that’s the key thing here?” Johnny questioned skeptically.

“Sickness always talked about how annoying my work ethic was for her. While she was trying to form, I guess, I was using too much of my brain for painting stuff, so she couldn’t grow right, or quickly, or whatever.”

“I see…” Johnny brought a knuckle up to his mouth. “So it’s not so much using your brain, but using it for creative endeavors? Writing, drawing, thinking?”

“Seems like it.” Devi leaned back on her palms. “And to a further extent, not giving in to the temptation of sitting around and doing nothing. There were times where all day I’d be thinking; “I need to work, I need to work”, but I just sat there on the couch thinking about it, never actually got up and did anything, which is what she wanted. For you, it was probably a little different, seeing as – as far as I know – the only supernatural thing that lived in the apartments besides Sickness was the psychic fat of a morbidly obese woman.”

“…What?”

“Nevermind.” Devi looked around before settling her eyes on the paper again. “Just draw, for like, an hour. I need to get some work done too, so I’ll just sketch concept crap while you do that.”

“What should I draw?” Johnny inquired while he jammed the eraser of his pencil up against his gumline.

“I can’t tell you that, that defeats the purpose.” She sighed. “Just, draw a comic, I don’t know. It doesn’t have to make any fucking sense, just something.”

“HAH!” Johnny laughed. “Well I have good news about my Happy Noodle Boy comics, then.”

He seemed a little more enthused at that and pulled the tablet in his direction, before hunching over the table and skritching away at the paper beneath him. Devi watched him curiously a moment before returning to her art room to retrieve her own sketchbook.

--

45 MINUTES IN:

Devi looked up from her perch on her armchair at her struggling ‘student’. She’d already watched him wad up and throw three separate sheets of paper around him, and he was looking more unhinged the less his drawings were coming out like he wanted. Johnny stared at his current page with his lips pursed and his eyebrows furrowed tightly. As he lifted a hand up to the spiral of the tablet, Devi interrupted him.

“Ah.” She scolded. “Keep going.”

“But it’s STUPID. It makes no SENSE.” He argued at her from the floor.

“I told you that’s fine. Don’t get frustrated on the details, it’s fine if it looks like crap as long as you finish.”

“IT’S NOT!”

“Nny.” Devi’s eyelids lowered, indicating as ungently as possible that she wasn’t budging on the subject. Johnny responded with collapsing across the table dramatically.

“THIS IS TOO ANNOYING, I WON’T CONTINUE.” He seethed. “I’m going to the 24/7 and getting a Brain-Freezy!!”

“No, you are not. Finish your stupid comic, you only have like, ten minutes until ‘break time’ anyway.”

“YOU CAN’T MAKE ME STAY!” He screamed back, raising up to glare at her with his hands flat on the table. “I’M TIRED of being controlled, this is idiotic!!”

Devi frowned and set her sketchbook aside.

“Don’t be such a baby!” She chided him. “Think of the goal you’re working towards, you moron! Complaining about not being free when working toward freedom? HELLO?”

Johnny kicked his legs out and let himself fall backwards onto the floor, glaring at the ceiling as though it had called him a slew of cusswords. After a few moments of heaving breaths, Devi watched his chest slow to childlike huffing.

“But… I HATE it, Devi. I HATE IT!” Johnny clenched his fists tightly. “I hardly even enjoy drawing these ASININE Noodle Boys anymore!! I want to draw the way I used to, and this just reminds me that I can’t!! Sometimes it’s still fun, but mostly it SUCKS! COMPLETELY SUCKS!”

“Jeezus… don’t look at it like that, Nny.” She sighed. Tenna joked about her being a therapist monkey, but that was barely an exaggeration if this was going to be how things went every encounter. “Look at your scribbles like the first step back to your previous talent, not a continuous path of stagnant shit you have to walk. I swear, Johnny, this is going to help.”

She hoped that she was swearing to something she could actually bolster, especially after Johnny rolled his head over to give her an immensely forlorn expression. After a moment he sighed and sat back up, lamely picking up his pencil to continue drawing. Devi watched him again, a pinch uncomfortable with the sudden seriousness of the mood, and tried to think of something funny to say.

“Well,” She picked up her work again. “I guess if all else fails, you can just die again.”

Anyone else might have thought the comment cruel, but Johnny burst into a fit of muffled hysterics. Devi smiled against herself, but did her best to hide it behind her sketchbook. Johnny’s giggling tapered off as he settled his hand back onto the page he was working on.

“You know,” He began as he started scribbling. “the funniest thing about the whole dying incident… the method was so stupid.”

“I told you about the RadioShack arm and all of that, but the way I rigged it, it shouldn’t have ever worked! It was hooked up to the phone, and would activate when I got a phone call, but wouldn’t actually go off until I picked up the receiver and said “hello” into it. As Psycho-Doughboy so kindly said, it was a load of shit! I never get calls, not even wrong numbers, and especially not at 2 o’clock in the fuck-all morning!”

Devi’s hand stopped moving mid-stroke, her eyes wide. Johnny didn’t notice, and continued speaking while he drew.

“But, out of all the shit luck I’ve had, the phone rings, right then, right when I was screaming with the Doughboys, saying I was calling the whole thing off! Now that I think about it… I don’t know why I didn’t just… not pick it up – BUT, thank fuck I did, right?”

Devi remained silent, her throat suddenly, and increasingly, dry. It couldn’t be, it just could not be. Her mind raced; maybe it was wrong, she was mistaken – but there was no way, it fit too well. All she heard was that fucking “hello”, then a bang – a gunshot. A thud. A scream. If Johnny was still talking now, she couldn’t hear him.

“It was me.” She said suddenly, bringing Johnny out of his thought.

“Huh?”

“…It… was me. It was me, I was the one that called you that night.” Devi’s widened eyes lifted to stare at him as she spoke. “Tenna said… I was just… checking if you still lived there.”

Her mumblings died off as her eyes wandered away from Johnny’s face to bore into the drywall across the room. Johnny blinked, barely processing what she was saying.

“What? You called me that night, Devi?” He wondered only briefly how she could know it was that exact night, but quickly rationalized that he hadn’t received any other phone calls besides that one, before or since. It was Devi. His eyes grew impossibly larger as the reality of it dawned on him.

He stood up, unable to keep still with the sudden surge of energy pulsing throughout his body.

“You, you – YOU called me Devi!” He paced as he handled the information. “You did – oh my God, I can’t believe I never thought of this before!”

Devi’s attention made it’s way back to her now manic guest, and she watched him uncomfortably from her seat. Johnny smiled uneasily, holding his head while he walked.

“The entire reaction, I gave the reaction the credit for removing those shitty horrors from me, but I never thought of the action! The call itself! It wasn’t just the GUNSHOT, it wasn’t just DYING, it was that phone call! MORE IMPORTANTLY, it was the one that placed that phone call!! My God, all this time I’ve been ambling around, a slave free from his shackles, thrust into a world unknown, when the KNOWING was right there!! It was so obvious!”

He stopped his frantic pacing to kneel into a lunge at the foot of Devi’s armchair, startling her further into the fabric of it’s back. Johnny grabbed the corners of her sketchbook, which she was using as a pathetic shield between her frazzled self and the man before her, and he smiled wide with excitement.

“Oh, Devi! Devi it was always YOU – who else would it be!? Who else COULD it be!” Johnny breathed through a laugh. “Devi, you KILLED ME.”

She could only stare at him in silent horror. It wasn’t like she meant to kill him! She did say that she wished he would die for making her like him so much and then letting her down so horrendously but – Christ, it wasn’t meant to be so literal! She didn’t want to be the cause of it! If he wanted to just go vaporize and leave her alone, that’s what she would have preferred back then. Johnny didn’t seem to realize her discomfort on the gruesome truth to his ‘demise’.

“You stripped me of those wretched little monsters – even the WALL-THING!” His smile didn’t waver. “I should have known; there was a reason you escaped! No, a reason I MET you!”

Devi wanted to interrupt before he convinced himself of some soulmates bullshit, but her throat felt clogged, and nothing would come out.

“And here you are, helping me again… Fuck’s sake, I’ve been so foolish! So BLIND!” Johnny’s fingers gripped onto her sketchbook harder, pulling it down so the top was under his chin as he leaned in further. “All this time, it was always you; you made me happy, you escaped, you released me of that Hell!! If fate’s a real thing, THIS is it! How else would I get aligned with the one person, after all of that previous shit, that has the mental fortitude to withstand an attack from those disgusting vermin!?”

“J… Johnny.” Devi managed finally, through her barely functioning jaw. The sound of her voice seemed to reel him in a ways, and he slid back to sit on his heel expectantly, but with a much less wild look in his eyes.

“Oh, I beg you, please don’t be nervous Devi! I don’t hold any resentment for your hand in my death, not at all!” He chuffed. “And I’m so sorry for… for yelling, and being an overall pain in your ass since visiting you. I swear, after this, that’s it! Whatever you say, goes.”

Devi blinked in surprise at that. Was he honestly pledging his loyalty out of sheer gratitude that she inadvertently kind-of murdered him? She could only stare at his eager eyes, unsure of whether to be horribly afraid of this new measure of weirdness in their relationship, or to feel safer in that she was his so-proclaimed Angel of Death.

“Um… uh…” She tried to think of something to say, but was still panicking internally. “Um, y-y’know what, Nny?”

She hated how his head perked up, like he was waiting on her word.

“A uh… a Brain-Freezy sounds good, actually. You wanna go grab us a couple while I… think about what kind of existential bullshit I’m experiencing right now?”

“YUM. Yes, okay! I will!” His smile pulled up on one side, letting his gums peak out, before he ran to the door. He halted abruptly and turned to her again. “Is Cherry Doom okay? That’s the flavor I get.”

“Yeah.” Devi didn’t even think about her answer, and watched him leave with an uncertain, disturbed look in her eyes. She melted unceremoniously against the chair, arms and legs splayed out, and continued to stare at nothing in particular. She didn’t want Johnny to like her so immensely -- she didn’t even want for him to like her much at all! The way this was going, she might be stuck with him as long as his gratitude lasts. How long could the frenzied gratefulness of a homicidal maniac last, exactly?

--

NEXT.

[friendlyneighborhoodborg]

Marc Appreciation Week 2019| Day 4: Rainbow| “Color by Numbers”

And I’m barely on time for Day 4 of @wearemiraculous‘ challenge.  I don’t have time to edit it tonight, school and procrastination mean I’m posting this late at night, and I have some more homework I want to get done before tomorrow.

Again, the prompt interpretation was very loose here.  “Rainbow,” I interpreted to mean as... well, I think we all know what the rainbow’s supposed to mean.

Disclaimers were in Day 1.

(~2700 flipping words.)

Edit:  Something’s wonky with the url, so here’s a link to the chapter on AO3.

Subsequent Edit: It might work now, but I’m keeping the link up just in case. 

Chapters:

1 2 3 4 5 6 7

           “Alright,” Nathaniel surveyed.  “I don’t have a lot of homework tonight.  I can do the line-art up to page 3 while you’re settling the specific dialogue.”

           Marc looked at the sketchbook.  Nathaniel had filled in about five full pages with incredibly detailed pencil sketches, including multilayered shading, during the hour they had been sitting here.  On top of this, he’d created many new reference sketches for the two villains – Princess Fragrance with an updated costume, and the newly-created Ghostlight – as well as some new action poses for Reverser (Marc decided to keep the name after all).  It looked like something out of an actual, professional superhero comic, and he had the gall to sit here and claim he could only ink half of it.

           This boy was going to be the flipping death of him.

           “You’re really good,” he said before he could stop himself.  “I mean… you’re going to be famous one day.”

           “Hah.”  He shook his head and leaned back in his chair, smiling.  “No, I’m not there yet.  Maybe you, though, one day.”

           “N-no.”  Marc retreated into himself.  “I’ve just been writing what you told me.  It’s your story.”

           “It’s a crap story.”

           “No, it’s not.  It’s a great story, and it’s yours.  You’ve got great art, awesome designs, and the only weak thing here is my writing.”

           “You see,” Nathaniel said, sitting back up.  “That’s where you’re wrong on everything.”

           “You could’ve had the story without me,” Marc stated.  It wasn’t even an argument or an opinion in his eyes- it was just fact that Nathaniel was a better creator. “Just saying, you should have found someone better.”

           “Well, look at this.”  Marc’s journal was snatched out of his hands, despite his protests.  Nath pointed out the section Marc had already shown.  “This is emotional stuff, you hear? Reverser gets de-akumatized, he runs away when he doesn’t change back and Mighty-Illustrator finds him.”  He skimmed down the paragraph.  “All these parallels you drew between them, being the only ones to stay powered up even uncorrupted, all this, this depth you gave them that I never even thought they could have.”  He slammed down the journal and stared him down.  “This scene would be meaningless without your dialogue.”

           “It’s just words.”  Marc’s voice was weaker now.  “That’s all I’m good at.  And it was your story.  You set everything up, I just filled in the blanks.”

           “All you’re good at?”  Nathaniel released the journal from its captivity.  “Sure, fine, okay.  Words are all you’re good at.  And words were all Shakespeare was good at.  It was all Dumas was good for.  Everything Tolkien was good for.”  He pointed at it.  “This is just… you’re incredible, okay?  Seriously.  And trust me, once they see it, everyone’s gonna agree.  Then you’ll get the appreciation you deserve.”  He started placing his sketchbook, pens, and pencils into his bag.  “Now take a rest, man, you deserve it.  I’ll keep you posted.”

           It was one of Nathaniel’s many attributes.  He was so adamant that people he admired had a worth that exceeded his own, Marc had to wonder how he didn’t realize his own abilities.  No, drawing was just a thing he liked to do, never mind that he was so good at it.  Nathaniel seemed more interested in Marc’s contribution to the project, something Marc hadn’t expected from his first impressions. Now his friend was trying to moderate his wellbeing?

           Marc found himself unable to say no.

           Here he was, a trashy gay mess of a thing.  If Nathaniel kept up with his talent and humility and his whole coolest-person-on-the-planet deal, Marc would never shake his crush at this rate.

           Elsewhere in the room, Rose walked into the art room and made her way towards Juleka, who was tuning her guitar.  “Sorry Julie,” she apologized.  “I looked all over the classroom, and I couldn’t find your mirror anywhere.”

           “Really?” Juleka smirked, guitar on her knee, flashing the chain that was on her wrist. “What a surprise.”

           “Oh!”  Rose looked at the accessory in surprise.  “You found it!”

           “It was in the locker room.  I went down while you were across the hall.”  From behind her bass, she withdrew a small black box with a pink ribbon.  “I grabbed this, too.”

           Rose’s eyes widened at the unexpected object.  “Julie, what is this?”

           “An early surprise.”  The goth unstrapped the guitar to stand up and hand the present over. “I know our six-month anniversary isn’t till Saturday, but…”  A wide smile spread across her features.  “Well, I couldn’t wait.  I had to see your face when you opened it.”

           Rose looked at it in surprise.  “For me?”  She hesitantly picked it up from the gloved hand.  “Julie, you shouldn’t have.”

           “Oh, I kinda did.”  Juleka waved a hand dismissively.  “Considering you’re always getting me things, I had to return the favor somehow.”

           “No, you didn’t,” she argued, loosening the bow on top.  “You’re more than enough already.  I always feel like I’m in your debt.”  She almost dropped the box once she opened it and saw inside.  “Oh.  My.  God.”

           Marc stopped packing up to look across at the two.

           Rose gingerly fingered the sterling chain, hypnotized by the charm.  Marc couldn’t see it from his vantage point, but it was a small heart, the size of a coin, with spiked silver-colored bat wings coming off of it.  The heart was set in a chrome border, cast resin of swirling dark pink.  “Did you make this yourself?

           “Luka helped with the metalwork.  It’s not real silver, it’s tin, but… well, there isn’t really a difference.  You outshine both the same.”

           Rose stifled a laugh, unable to stop herself from tearing up in euphoria.  She rushed Juleka and enveloped her in a hug.  “I love it! I’ll wear it every day!”  She quickly clasped it around her neck.  “I love you so much!”  Rose forcefully pulled her face down (the downside of dating someone a head taller than her) and crashed into it.

           Marc stared at them, wondering what it’d be like to hold Nathaniel like that and kiss him like that.  And for just a second, watching their young love, he let himself dream that his crush wasn’t such a bad thing.

           “Oh, come on,” Alix groaned, breaking the spell.  “Teacher!  They’re at it again!”

           The girls separated, blushing when they realized they had an audience.

           The art teacher sighed.  “Alix…”  He got up from his seat.  “Girls,” he reminded, “you did say you had a lot of work to do.  I can only keep the room open for another half-hour.”

           Rose sighed.  “Yes, Mr.—”

           “Hey, Marc,” Nathaniel nudged him out of his observation.  “You okay? You should get some rest.”

           “I’m fine,” he assured, waving a hand towards the pair.  “Just, uh… researching our subjects, I guess.”

           “Oh yeah.  Rose and Juleka.”  Nath nodded. “They’re interesting, alright. Part of the reason I agreed to do them for the comic.  That reminds me, we should really start thinking about how we’re introducing Juleka’s new villain.”

           “Their dynamic is really weird.  Juleka’s normally really quiet.  But when she’s talking to Rose, it’s so much easier for her to talk.”

           “You noticed that too, huh?”

           “They’re…”  Marc bit his lip.  “They’re really happy, aren’t they?”

           “If not, they sure fooled me.”

           “Then… And they get to be themselves.”

           Nathan looked at them.  “Yeah,” he murmured.  “Good for them.”

           Rose and Juleka wrapped up, and Rose walked over to the Graphiti Gurl (as she requested it be spelled).  “That wasn’t very nice, Alix.”

           “I’m sorry,” Alix grunted, doodling in her homework. “I’m not in the mood today.”

           “I’m sorry to hear that.”  Nevertheless, she persisted.  “But you could have said nicely if we were bothering you.”

           “Probably.”  She looked up.  “I wasn’t in the mood for that either.”  They looked at each other for a moment.  “Don’t look at me like that.  I’m an ass, it’s in my genetics.”

           “Right next to the ace gene?” Juleka asked.

           “Oh,” Alix grinned, “you bet your bass it is.”

           “You okay?”

           “Yeah, just not terribly into everyone’s hyperromantic bullshit today.”  She closed her workbook.  “No offense in particular to the lovely gay couple in here.”

           Marc suddenly found himself speaking.  “It’s not as if their love is a hindrance to your life.”

           “It is a little in my case.”  She turned to Marc.  “But it’s not cause they’re gay, if that’s what you’re thinking.  I’d be just as moody if a straight couple did what they just did.  I’m just not a lovely person.  It always seems so fake, the way they people those things, and it gives me a weird sense of… squick.”  She shuddered.  “I’m aromantic, if you didn’t know.”

           “Sorry?”

           “I don’t fall in love.  Aromantic/Asexual, I don’t even get crushes.”

           “Huh.”  Marc sat down closer to her.  “I didn’t know that was a thing.”

           “Not many people do.  It’s the more obscure end of the sexuality spectrum.”  She gestured all around them.  “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but almost everyone in this room is queer.”

           “R-really?”

           “Yep.”  Alix cracked her knuckles and stared him down.  “That better not be a problem, Shakespeare.”

           “No, I… I just thought there was supposed to be some… ten-percent statistic or something.”

           This elicited a laugh from the punk.  “Marc, Marc, my dear Marc,” she put her feet up on another chair.  “We are Parisian.  We are the ten-percent statistic.”

           Marc was overwhelmed with yet another emotion he couldn’t name.  “So,” he stalled.  “You’re all… gay?”

           “Queer,” Rose corrected.  “That’s the blanket term.  You already know Juleka and I are dating, right?”

           “Well, yeah, but—”

           “Well, I’m bisexual.”  She put a hand on the taller shoulder and leaned into her.  “And she’s a lesbian.”

           “I noticed.”  Marc did a double-take.  “Wait, hang on, did you say everyone?”

           “Well, everyone but you, maybe.  Even the art teacher’s out.”

           “So, what about…”  He turned to his writing partner.

           Nathaniel realized everyone was looking at him.  “Um… I don’t…” he buried his nose into Marc’s writing journal, masterfully evading whatever question they were going to ask before they asked it.

           “Forget it,” Alix said.  “He’s gone statue again.  I can never get anything out of him like this.”  “Hey, anyone see where the art teacher went?”

           “It’s 16:30.”  “He must have left.  Guess we can leave now.”

           “Alright.”  Alix scooped everything into her bag.  “Later, losers.  Nate?”

           Nath left with her.  Marc walked out as well, Rose and Juleka at his heels.

           ‘Everyone in here is different,’ he mused.  ‘Like me.  Could I…’

           “Hey Shakespeare,” Nath stopped him.  “Your bag.”

           ‘Shoot.’

           Marc ran up to catch the closing door.  “See you tomorrow, he called, retreating back inside.

           ‘Maybe one day.’

           “Rose,” beckoned Juleka, at the base of the metal stairs.  “You coming?”

           Rose bit her lip nervously.  “Behind you, my love.”  She turned back towards the room.  “I’ll catch up.”

           He stuffed everything into his sack, and he was about to leave when…

           “Rose?” he asked, looking at the girl in the doorway with confusion.  “What are you doing here?”

           “I think we need to talk.”

           “… about the comic?”

           “About you.”  She stepped forward.  “You’re acting really weird.”

           “Uhhh…… this is how I normally act.”

           “And it’s really weird.  You flipped out about Juleka yesterday, and today you were kinda staring at us, and you were interested in our dating preferences.”  She gave him a sharp poke in the ribs.  “You don’t have a crush on my girlfriend, do you?”

           “N-no,” Marc yelped.  “I-I don’t.”

           “Then why are you stuttering?”

           “B-because you’re… really close up, it’s actually kind of uncomfortable.”

           “Oh, sorry.”  She backed away.  “Let’s see, then… it’s something about a crush, though isn’t it?  I’m really good at telling when someone has a crush.”

           “I-I don’t want to—”

           “Come on, I won’t judge—”

           “Please, Rose, can you just drop it!?”

           Rose quieted, shocked at Marc’s rise in volume. He instantly regretted his tone.

           “I’m sorry.”  He panicked.  “Oh, geez, I’m sorry.”

           “It’s okay.”

           He stood there, letting the atmosphere soak up the noise.  Then, with his voice so low he might as well have stayed silent, he mumbled.  “I like boys.”

           “Oh.”  Rose smiled sympathetically.  “I… That can’t have been easy for you.  I promise, it doesn’t make a lick of difference.”

           She held out her hand.  “Friends?”

           Marc stared at it.

           For the first time in his life, there was someone who was queer, and who knew he was gay, and who… wanted to be his friend.

           Here, in front of him, was someone who might know what was wrong with him.

           “Is it… normal?”

           Rose smiled.  “Yes.”

           “Not that.”  He summoned his courage.  “Is it normal for… for gay men to… not feel like men sometimes?”

           That was it.  The leap of faith.  Either he was normal, there was something in his life that could even be considered normal, and he might be able to live with that.

           Rose wasn’t smiling anymore though.  Her eyes had gone wide, and she was looking at Marc with dismay.

           “I… I don’t think so.”

           Marc shattered.

           “Why do… why do you ask?”

           “Because I’m fucked up.”  He fell back onto the box, clutching his arms and hunching over. His hollow eyes started dripping black mascara, spilling over from an over-filled heart.  “Because I’m not normal, and I like boys instead of girls, and sometimes…”

           Rose didn’t answer, or bid him continue, or say anything that could help him determine how she’d react.

           He sniffed.  “Sometimes… I think I’d feel better if…”  He was just waiting now, any moment, Rose was going to turn and walk away in disgust.  “It’s-It’s fucking crazy, but…”  

           Rose put a hand on his shoulder.  “Hey…” she whispered.  “You can let it out.”

           With one final push, and the reassurance he needed, he forced himself to.

           “Sometimes I want to be a girl!”

           Rose hugged him.  Marc weakly returned the embrace, burying his face into her shoulder.

           “There, there,” she consoled, a voice genuinely caring about his trouble.  “So is that why you freaked out when… oh.  Reflekta zapped you, didn’t she?”

           Marc sobbed a little.  Rose held him tighter.

           The pain was getting too big to ignore now.

           He shifted in his seat and Rose let go.  “But just, like,” he blubbered.  “I’m fine, a lot of the time.  Being me, being a boy.  It’s just sometimes… not all the time, but sometimes I wish my chest was bigger and I didn’t have a—”  He looked up, blushing.

           Rose got the picture.  “Oh, buddy… Is that it?”  She took a deep breath.  “Well, I can’t say I know much about dysphoria, but I guess—”

           “Does it even count as dysphoria?  If I don’t feel it all the time?”  He grabbed at his hair, the stress overcoming him.  “And that’s not even all of it… sometimes I just feel wrong.  No matter how much makeup I put on, how feminine I look, it’s always wrong, like nothing I can do will make me look right.  And sometimes, the more I use, the less it works.  And it feels like I’m missing some crucial detail, but I don’t know what, and it just leaves me feeling… empty.”  He covered his face with his hands.  “I feel like that now.”

           “I’ve done some reading online,” Rose said. “Dysphoria hits in different ways sometimes.  If you’re a girl…”  She trailed off, surveying him.  “If you’re actually a girl, you shouldn’t force yourself to be a boy.  That could really be bad for you, with the coginate… distance – shoot, I heard Max say it once. When you try to accept two different things at the same time?”

           “Doublethink?”

           “Sounds right.  Maybe.”

           Marc chuckled ruefully.  “So you think I’ve tricked myself into being a boy?”

           “Maybe.  Whatever it is, I’ll help you.”  She caressed his shoulder again, offering her comforting touch.  “You can be yourself, Marc, no one can take that from you.”

           “Trust me.”

You know what, any editing of this work after I post these will come after the week is already finished.  I am not giving myself more to do.  But these are done for now, until I think of any better rewordings.

(How I wrote this: I typed out a few cool moments ahead of time, got distracted, and connected them all on the day it was due.)

Comments much appreciated, as always, I want to know if there’s anything I should change in future chapters.

[girls-scenarios]

No More Boring Nights

Idol: Sowon (Gfriend)

Prompt: Can I request a Sowon scenario where you work at the library and she often comes in at late hours to get snacks?

Writer: Admin Kiwi

A/N: So, where I live, the only libraries that stay open that late and have snacks inside are campus libraries, so I’m guessing this is kind of a college au? It’s mostly centered around the library though. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy!

With a sigh, you sat back down into your chair behind the main desk of the library, staring down at the clock sat beside your computer. The sun had long past disappeared, and the library was silent. There had been a group of boys frantically looking for something to do their group project on, but they’d just left, plunging you into the silence again.

Usually, working at the library wasn’t that bad. You liked books, and it was usually a nice, quiet place to get work done and none of the students and families that came in ever gave you any headaches. Still, the night shift was killer. Because the library was on campus, it stayed open late into the night for students who desperately needed to study, but rarely was it busy. The only time there were more than a few groups of people in the large library was around midterms and finals, but midterms had just passed and nobody started studying for finals this early, so the library was pretty much empty.

“I’m gonna take a break to eat,” your coworker Yerin said, standing up and stretching her arms over her head. “Not that you’ll really need me down here.” You shook your head, spinning in your chair idly. You and Yerin were the only people working at this time of the night other than the security guard, wherever he was, but you knew you wouldn’t be needing her.

“Have fun,” you said, giving her a smile. She smiled back and slipped out from behind the desk, heading back towards the break room and leaving you alone at the front desk. With another sigh, you rolled closer to the desk and picked up one of your pens, looking down at your computer as you fiddled with it. There wasn’t really anyone in the bottom half of the library, since most of it was just vending machines and computer labs, so you decided to turn on some music, letting it play softly through the speakers. Tapping along to the beat, you zoned out, wondering how slow the hours would drag by tonight.

You were knocked out of your thoughts by the sound of the library doors opening. Raising your eyebrows, you looked up to see a familiar girl walking inside, tucking her hair back behind her ears as she looked around. You knew who she was, if only by sight and not by name. She tended to come by the library late at night, sometimes with her friends to study but usually just to get snacks. You figured that she lived nearby to come to the library instead of walking the few extra blocks to the gas station at the end of campus, where the snacks were arguably cheaper.

She had earbuds in, and you figured she probably wouldn’t need anything else from you, so you looked back down at your desk, tapping the pen along to the slow beat playing over the speakers. Something by Khalid, you were sure, but you didn’t know who was on the track with him. As you leaned forward, turning on your computer to search for the song, you heard footsteps approaching the desk and looked up to see the girl from early.

“Hello, how can I help you?” She gave you a small, sweet smile as she pulled the earbuds out of her ears.

“Sorry to bother you, it seems like one of your vending machines isn’t working and I thought you should know.” You raised your eyebrows and looked over at the corner full of vending machines.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Which one is it? I’ll write it down for maintenance to check tomorrow. Did it eat your money?” The girl shook her head and pointed out the vending machine as you pulled out a sticky note.

“No, it just spit it back out at me. I guess I got lucky.” You smiled and nodded your head as you wrote down the note.

“No kidding, those things can be finicky sometimes. Thank you for letting me know.”

“No problem,” she said, and then her eyes flitted to the empty seat next to you. “Is Yerin working tonight?” You looked at the seat that your coworker would usually be sitting in and raised your eyebrows.

“Oh, she is, but she just went on break. Are you a friend of hers?” The girl nodded.

“Yeah, I wanted to see if she had notes for a certain class but it’s okay, I’ll see her tomorrow morning.”

“Would you like me to pass the message to her?” The girl gave you a bright smile.

“I’d appreciate that, actually. My name is Sowon, by the way. Just let her know that I was looking for my notes and she’ll know what you mean.” You pulled out another sticky note and jotted it down.

“No problem. It’s nice to meet you, Sowon.”

“What’s your name?” You looked up, a bit surprised that she cared to ask. But maybe she wanted to confirm with Yerin tomorrow?

“I’m (Y/N),” you said, pointing to your name tag. Sowon grinned sheepishly.

“Oh, I didn’t see the name tag.”

“It’s okay, a lot of people miss it,” you said, waving a hand. “Is there anything else I can help you with?” She shook her head and stood up straight, shifting the snacks in her arms.

“Nope, that was all. It was nice meeting you, (Y/N). See you around!” She gave you a little wave that you returned, and then turned around and headed for the doors, putting the earbuds back into her ears. You watched her go, a little bit mesmerized by how elegant she looked even in such casual clothes, before shaking yourself and looking down at the sticky notes on your desk.

“Yo, what did I miss?” You looked up at Yerin and then back at the door. Sowon had disappeared by then, so you handed over the sticky note.

“You just missed your friend by like, a minute. She needed notes from you.”

“Oh, Sowon? She could literally just text me, why is she like this,” Yerin said, shaking her head as she looked down at the note. “Loose one thing of notes and she acts like she has to get everyone to hold you accountable.”

“Looks like you have to return these ones,” you said, wiggling your eyebrows. Yerin made a face and you and kicked at your chair.

“Oh, shut up.” 

-

It only took another night for you to see her again. Once again, you were on the night shift, tapping along to some soft song playing over the speakers with the security guard probably napping in his office and Yerin taking a lunch in the back. When the doors opened at about the same time as the night before, you raised your eyebrows. There she was again, but this time without earbuds, and she gave you a little wave that made you feel a certain way as she headed towards the vending machines.

Shaking yourself, you took a sip of your water, wondering if there was something you could do to distract yourself from whatever that had been. But of course there wasn’t, because it was the night shift, and you’d already completed everything that needed to be done.

“Another long night?” She was standing at the desk, smiling down at you, and you couldn’t help but to smile back.

“As usual. Is the vending machine working again? The maintenance guy should have fixed it today.” She shrugged, leaning her elbows on the counter.

“I’m not sure. I didn’t feel like trying my luck on it again tonight.” It made you laugh, and there was a little sparkle in her eyes when you did. Suddenly, the night shift didn’t seem quite so boring.

When she left, walking away with another little wave, Yerin joined you again at the desk, watching Sowon open the door.

“Wow, she came up to talk to you again tonight? I already gave her the notes.”

“She just wanted to talk,” you said, shrugging your shoulders. Yerin gave you a look and leaned back in her chair, but said nothing, instead pulling out her phone from her pocket and typing away.

-

Soon enough, you were expecting Sowon to come over and talk to you. Night after night, she got her snacks and then wandered up to the desk to talk. Sometimes it was just you, sometimes it was you and Yerin, and sometimes it was your other coworker Jinyoung who would begin to feel awkward and disappear to put away books or something. Either way, every night she’d come up to talk to you with her sweet smile, making your night shift bearable. So bearable, in fact, that you didn’t even feel annoyed to have been switched to the night shift.

It was another one of those nights. Yerin had wandered off somewhere, probably to go try and finish some last minute essay, and you were left alone at the desk again. A group of students had approached you for help on a project for a few moments before, but now they were huddled in the far corner over their laptops, and your night was back to being quiet. When the door opened, you immediately smiled, not even having to look up to know who it was.

Sowon gave you a smile from the door as she ducked towards the vending machines again, and you shook your head, smiling down at the flower you’d been doodling. You really didn’t know how she managed to survive on vending machine snacks. Not to mention the price of them.

“It’s a donuts night?” You asked as she walked up to the counter, a package of mini donuts in her hands. She shrugged her shoulders and leaned on the counter like she always did, giving you a grin.

“Doesn’t it feel like a donuts night to you too?”

“If you say so. You’re going to go broke buying all this vending machine food.” She shrugged her shoulders again and opened the package.

“Hey, if it means I get to see you.” You felt your face heating up, and her cheeks were pink too, a sheepish smile on her lips. “Sorry, that was cheesy.”

“No, I liked it,” you said, feeling butterflies to back flips inside your stomach. She raised her eyebrows, donuts forgotten.

“You like me?”

“Maybe.” She pouted at you, and you laughed quietly, putting your hand over your mouth. “Okay, okay, I like you.” It felt weird to say it so casually, but she gave you another smile and you really couldn’t resist her.

“Can I have your number?” Her cheeks were still pink as she pulled out her phone, and you nodded, taking it from her gently and keying in your number. You’d been hoping for her to ask for nights now, and you felt giddy just thinking about it as you handed her phone back. She smiled looking down at the screen before she slipped it back into her pocket.

“Do you have any more questions, ma’am,” you asked, jokingly putting on your customer service voice, and she seemed to think for a moment before biting her lip.

“Would you date me?” The question caught you off guard, and you could feel your face heat up as the butterflies went crazy. But still, you grinned, putting your hand over your mouth.

“For real?”

“For real.”

“Then yeah, Sowon. I’ll date you.” Her face was flushed too, and for a moment, the two of you just smiled at each other, close in the silence of the library.

“Oh my god, finally you two.” The moment shattered as Yerin flopped into her seat, shaking her head. “I’ve been texting Sowon to ask you out for ages.”

“Yerin, don’t expose me like that!”

“What, it’s true!” You couldn’t help but to burst into laughter, probably annoying the students huddled in the far corner. But you couldn’t help it. Not when your nights had suddenly got much less boring.

[evdothansen]

Mad – Michael Mell x Reader;

Author’s Note: i would like to thank the lovely @1enchantedfantasy1, who helped me out with the idea for this. thank you, emily, for real. i hope you like it xD also what the heck the struggle is real ok it’s almost 30 degrees here and it’s 11PM??? get ur shit together, vienna, i’m melting;

Pairing: Michael Mell x Reader;

Request: not requested by anyone (although requests are open!), but the prompt i used was “I forgot about the no spaghetti strap rule, give me your hoodie before a teacher notices.”, because i knew i had to do it for michael the moment i laid eyes on it;

Word Count: 2611;

Warnings: swearing i think?? fluff??? HEAT???? and physics which for me has to be a warning. also, not proofread;

Michael rung the doorbell quickly, scratching his neck right afterwards. He stood in your front porch, waiting for you to open the door so the two of you could study together. He changed his weight from one foot to the other, seconds feeling like an eternity. When he finally heard footsteps approaching the door, he felt his heart skipping a beat. What was happening to him? He was there to tutor you with mechanics because your Physics teacher asked him to, just like he’d been at other classmates’ houses to tutor them because your Physics teacher had asked him to. It wasn’t really a big deal – he was deliberately the best student in the class, specially when it came to mechanics, so every now and then, since freshman year, the teacher would ask him to help out a classmate. It was a regular thing on his life.

Except that he had never been asked to tutor you, specifically. You, his crush since freshman year. Heck, since middle school. You weren’t exactly on his friend circle, no, but he still remembered seventh grade, when you were science lab partners, and so did you. You saw eachother in the hallways every day, and, whenever you passed by, you’d smile at Christine, who you knew from the Drama Club, and Jeremy, who you knew to be Michael’s best friend, and sweetly say hi to Michael before following your way to class. All year long, he’d been trying to get himself to answer you properly instead of just babbling, but had no success. But social interaction wasn’t Michael’s forte, right? That was totally the reason why he got way too flustered at those greetings, it had to be. Mechanics, though? That was his thing. It would be just fine. He wouldn’t become a mumbling mess, after all, he had gone through it more than a hundred times.

The door was shot open, cutting his thoughts off. On the other side, stood you, shining him your always sweet smile. “Michael! You’re here!”

“H-hey.” He managed to say, mentally facepalming himself.

“Come in, please!” You told him, stepping out of the way. He did, gripping onto his backpack tightly so his hands wouldn’t shake. You closed the door behind him and started walking in, leading him to what seemed to be your room. “God, I’m so lucky you agreed on this. I mean, everyone knows you’re the best student on Mrs. Smith class, and I’m almost failing Physics, so I think you’re the only one who can actually save me from this one.”

“A-almost failing?” He managed to say. “But y-you’ve always been so smart, Y/N.”

You turned your face away and faced the door, thankful for having an excuse to not letting him see your face as you blushed as pursed your lips. Calm down, Y/N. It’s just Michael Mell, who you know since seventh grade, helping you out with mechanics. “Yeah, well, apparently not smart enough.”

“You probably don’t even need me.” He told you with a small smile as you both entered your room. It was a nice place with a single window, your bed, a desk, a door that led to what he thought to be a walk-in closet and your decorations. He was admired at the bedroom. It wasn’t much and he felt ridiculous, but, still, it was a part of you. And, God, it was so you.

“Oh, believe me, I so do.” You told him, fully believing it although Mrs. Smith told you the same thing. Your self-esteem wasn’t the highest ever, though, so you didn’t believe ether of them. “But, um, make yourself comfortable, I guess. Let me just grab my brother’s chair and we’ll start, okay?”

Michael nodded and hummed as you headed out and briefly came back in. The two of you revised exercises and the notes you had taken (you just discovered that Michael didn’t take too many notes, his notebook was mostly doodles of videogame characters), then he tried to clear up some of your doubts. Two hours in, your mom came home, greeting him and giving you a look that could only mean so-this-is-the-guy-you-just-won’t-shut-up-about before offering both of you something to drink. Ten minutes later, she brought upstairs a tray with two cups of apple juice and a plate of your dad’s homemade cookies. You studied for yet another hour, and then you realized Michael had been a little uptight and was letting it go by now. He seemed to be really at ease with the subject, and there was something about how he raised his eyebrows and pointed at different numbers. Although you suppose he was being of more help now, when he was finally comfortable, you were having a harder time focusing, and of course it had absolutely nothing to do with his caramel lips or how his jet black hair looked soft. No, that would have been dumb, right? You didn’t know for sure, but you tried to convince yourself of it for hours after he left.

For two more weeks, you and Michael had these little study sessions three times a week. On Mondays, you’d just go to the school’s library and work there, for both of you had a free period in the middle of the day. Then, on Wednesdays, he drove you both to your place, where usually you’d have the same routine as that of the first time. Then, on Fridays, when your brother’s garage band usually held rehearsals a your place, he waited for you at his house, and you’d stay up late studying (and talking about stuff that just popped up spontaneously, because, God, it was Friday) together. Michael was a great tutor, yes, so you learned a lot, but you felt as if throughout the two weeks you learned less by the day. Not that he was teaching you less, no, the more comfortable he got with you, easier tutoring became for him. You just couldn’t focus on mechanics as well as you could before now, because Michael’s lips were way more interesting than what he was talking about and you were forced to admit it.

The Physics exam was on a Thursday, and, wow, did you thank goodness for it. Wednesday afternoon, you and Michael did a big review of everything at your place, and you absolutely couldn’t understand how come he was so relaxed. You thought your brain would freak and explode, because besides that being the big test and Michael being distraught making you even more attracted to him, it was way too hot to even hold a pen up properly.

“Come on, Y/N, you have to relax a little.” He told you around 6PM. It was amazing how he seemed way more natural when talking to you now, the Michael you saw on the hallways with his friends every day. “It’s not like you don’t know anything, you’re gonna do fine! And, even if you didn’t, freaking out a day before’s not the solution.”

“Yeah, easy for you to say it.” You said, a little way too bitter, wiping sweat away with the back of your hand. “Sorry. Hot weather turns me into an asshole. How the heck are you not melting under that hoodie, Michael? I feel hot only for seeing you in it!”

You are hot, he thought, barely being able to hold it back in. He pushed the thought away, shaking his head at you. “This hoodie’s miraculous, Y/N, but don’t change the subject. Look, why don’t we close those textbooks and do something else? You need to chill.”

“Michael, the exam’s tomorrow! I can’t leave the books, not tonight.” You reasoned, and Michael gave you a smirk that told you he had an idea. “And, no, we’re not gonna get stoned in your basement right now. Wrong timing, buddy.”

“I didn’t even say anything about getting stoned!” He defended himself, and you rolled your eyes. “I do have videogames in my basement, though. I could teach you how to play something.”

“Did you not listen? Test! Tomorrow!”

“There’s an AC there, and my parents don’t mind if I keep it on.”

You bit your lip. The little asshole got you. As much as you needed to study, you knew you wouldn’t be able to when it was melting hot like this, and an air conditioner sounded like heaven right now. “Fine!” You told him, and his smirk grew wider. “But I have to be back by 8, or my parents will kill me.”

“Whatever you say, princess.” He told you, picking up the Cruiser’s keys as both of you left the textbooks behind.

You had a good time at Michael’s, you had to admit. Even if you sucked at videogames, it was fun when he taught you, and the two of you laughed a lot at your lack of skills. At a point, however, you gave up, leaving the controller on the sofa and satisfying yourself by picking songs while you watched Michael playing. He seemed to do videogames the same way he did Physics, or the same way he breathed. Oh, Jesus, Physics! You’d completely forgotten about the exam. You yawned, checking your phone’s clock – it was way past ten by now. Your parents would freak out completely.

“Michael.” You called in midst of a yawn. “I really should go. It’s late, and I didn’t finish –”

“I’m not gonna let you walk home by yourself when you’re almost passing out on my couch, Y/N.” He told you, shooting you a concerned look before turning back to the TV. “Look, the round’s almost over. When it is, I’ll drive you home and help you through the window, okay?”

You were too tired to disagree, so, instead, you yawned again and nodded, mumbling a response. When Michael took his eyes off the screen again, ready to grab his keys and take you home, you were already asleep on his couch. He shook his head and chuckled slightly. You’d been working yourself so hard this last week, he knew you were gonna pass out on the first opportunity you body saw. He couldn’t bring himself to wake you up, so, instead, he took your phone and called your mom, explaining how you were exhausted and was now asleep on his couch. She, who had already picked up on the fact you were stressed over the exam, said that, if it wasn’t a problem for him, you could spend the night there, as long as you came home to grab your school stuff next morning. After hanging up, he laid you down properly, putting his pillow under your head and leaving a blanket by your feet – though he doubted you’d need it. Before going up, back to his room, he stopped for a second and looked at you. Even he was amazed at how the tutoring had helped him out on talking to you. That same night, hadn’t you been so stressed, he was even planning to ask you out, which was just wonder of wonder. I mean, if you said yes, which you probably wouldn’t.

Michael sighed. Lying asleep on his couch, you still looked as beautiful as you did two weeks ago, when he first went to your house, and his heart still skipped a beat when he looked at you. He leaned down and pressed his lips against your temple for a second. “Good night, Y/N.”

The next morning, when Michael woke you up, you were confused for a moment. Then, you were mad at him. Really mad. And, then, having breakfast with his family – him, his parents and his grandma, who were absurdly kind to you –, you couldn’t help but be embarrassed. Still, when you both left his house to go to your place and fetch your stuff before going to school, you didn’t say a word to him. Michael, who knew you had a reasonable reason for all of it, only chuckled, even letting you pick the playlist.

When you entered the Physics classroom, stomping your way in front of him, Christine looked at you funny. “Hey, Y/N.” She greeted you. “Um, why are you wearing spaghetti straps?”

You looked at your shirt, still the same you were wearing the previous afternoon, only matched with pants now instead of your previous shorts. “The asshole here didn’t wake me up when I fell asleep at his place, so I’m still wearing what I wore yesterday afternoon.”

“Oh. So that’s why you seem so mad and Michael can’t stop cack – anyways.” She started, but trailed off at your angry glare and Michael’s frantic head shaking. “All I mean is that spaghetti straps are out of the dress code. Mrs. Smith won’t let you take the test if she sees you with that shirt.”

You facepalmed yourself. Shit. Christine was right. You didn’t even think about that, because you were too mad at Michael to pay attention to the school’s stupid dress code. So you did the only thing you could thing of: turned back to Michael, who had a concerned look on his face, and grasped at his hoodie’s hem. “Look, I know I’m being an asshole to you right now and you sort of deserve it but I’m exaggerating, but can you please, just for once, land me the goddamn hoodie?”

He blinked once. Then twice. Then, he nodded his head and shrugged, starting to take the red hoodie off. Once he was finished, you tried not to pay attention to the arms he always hid underneath it because goddamn it you were still mad at him, and put it on as quick as you could. Just when you were finished, Mrs. Smith entered the classroom, a few minutes early because of the exam, but you didn’t realize it, too blown away by how it felt. The fabric was good, yes, and surprisingly cool, as Michael had told you, but there was something else – the smell. A mixture between Michael’s Old Spice, Mountain Dew Red and a little of weed. Your senses were all messed up, but in the best possible way.

Michael, on the other side, was staring at you and blinking repeatedly. He had never landed that hoodie too anyone, not even Jeremy, but, God, did he choose the time right. You looked… Wow. Astounding. He felt the urge to touch you, to hold you, but, goddamit, you were still in the middle of a classroom crowded with students, and there was about a minute left before the bell rang. Ever so subtly, he took the hood off your head, letting his hand fall really close to where yours searched for support on your table. “You… You look really good in it, Y/N.”

His voice pulled you back to reality. Inside his hoodie, you felt really close to Michael, close enough to make you feel dizzy. Except… Except you weren’t.

Next thing any of you knew, your lips were pressed against his. He barely had time to react before the bell resounded and you were away again, sitting down as the teacher started taking the exams out of an envelope. Michael took the closest desk he could find, right by your side. As Mrs. Smith started giving instructions about the exam, he smiled, touching his lips, flustered, then looking at you.

“Didn’t see that coming.” He told you in a happy whisper.

“Yeah.” You bit your lip, blushing a little, and then smiled mockingly at him. “I’m still mad at you though.”

Michael shook his head, putting his pen, pencil and eraser on the table and chuckling a little. “If that’s mad you, you can be mad at me for forever.”

[megatraven]

If Love Took Just a Few Moments

Summary: Five moments that lead up to a confession of sorts between Alya and Marinette, and what happens after. Spoilers for Prime Queen are present in this fic. Alyanette.

AO3 | WC: 2384 | Buy me a coffee + request something! | Commissions

v

When Marinette said goodbye to Alya the night of Prime Queen’s attack, she collapsed in her bed and stared at the ceiling. Her heart still hammered in her chest from the events of the day, from the fear of almost losing her best friend.

But she was Ladybug, and she would never let something so awful happen to someone she cared for deeply.

So she hadn’t.

She’s saved the day, Chat by her side, and when she had returned home, she saw Alya safe and sound, not a hair out of place. It wasn’t quite real until they hugged, but then it was, and Marinette had felt a heavy weight lift from her shoulders as she sighed into Alya.

Her thoughts were still on her best friend when exhaustion mixed with relief finally pulled her into a deep sleep, and if she dreamed of hazel eyes, well...

That would be her little secret.

iv

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Alya!” Marinette called out, waving goodbye as Alya left through the bakery.

Her cheeks hurt from smiling so much, but that was often a side-effect of hanging out with Alya, and it only worsened when they babysat Manon together. It was the best kind of hurt, though, so Marinette didn’t mind.

Giving a quick kiss to both of her parents, she bounded back upstairs to her room to allow herself a moment to catch her breath. Looking around, she saw a few toys and pillows still scattered about from when Manon was there earlier. Easy enough to pick up, but Marinette’s gaze caught on the picture laying on her desk. Walking over to it, her fingers traced Alya’s signature and her expression softened.

“I’m gonna need a frame for this one,” she said to nobody in particular. In it, herself, Alya, and Manon played together, each of them laughing. It warmed her heart, and another thought came to her. “Or, maybe...”

Marinette glanced up to her bed, and clutched the picture to her chest. Maybe she could make a copy- so she had one to frame, and the other to keep close. For now, she walked up and set it gently beneath her pillow.

For later, she thought to herself, jumping slightly when Tikki appeared at her shoulder.

“Did you have fun today?” she asked, smiling sweetly.

“I did! We watched that video of Alya on Mme. Chamack’s show so many times it’s like, engraved in my brain.” Flopping onto her back, she sighed and rested her head on her arms. “It was also really tiring, though. Manon has so much energy, it’s crazy! My heart’s still racing from it,” she said with a laugh.

“I don’t think that’s why your heart’s racing,” Tikki whispered, and Marinette did a double take. Surely, she didn’t say what Marinette thought she did.

“What was what?”

“I said, maybe you should take a nap, rest up a bit before patrol!”

“Uh huh, sure you did,” Marinette muttered, suspicious but unable to refute it. “What’d you really say?”

“Nothing, nothing. Just get some rest.”

Marinette grumbled but conceded. She closed her eyes and settled against her pillows, ready to fall asleep for a little while.

Five minutes passed, and soon it was ten, thirty, an hour. 

She hadn’t slept a blink. Groaning, Marinette rolled onto her side, careful not to roll onto Tikki, and pulled the picture out from under her pillows.

Studying it once more, her heartbeat quickened and she groaned even louder into her arm.

“Tikki, I think I know why.”

iii

Sometimes, Marinette caught herself staring. There was always something about Alya that drew her eyes in, and that kept them there. Whether it was brushing her hair behind an ear, or the subtle bite of her lip when she was focusing on schoolwork, Marinette couldn’t help but look.

And everytime Marinette caught herself, Alya caught her too. She never laughed, or said anything about the fact, but she always smiled so sweetly, so kindly that Marinette’s cheeks reddened, and she couldn’t move or look away until Alya turned her attention back to her work.

When she was set free from Alya’s gaze, she would look forward and pretend to pay attention to class, all the while thinking about how positively alluring Alya was when she smiled at her like that. 

Marinette would do anything to keep Alya happy, her eyes and nose crinkled from smiling so widely.

Sighing contentedly into her hand, she looked down and started to mindlessly scribble in her notes.

(Later, she tore the pages free of her book, blushing furiously at the little hearts surrounding hers and Alya’s initials doodled across the margins.

They hovered over her trashcan for only an instant before she stashed them away in a drawer instead. She didn’t have the heart to throw out... well, her heart.

Even if there was a huge chance Alya had seen her.)

ii 

Alya’s head laid on her lap, and Marinette’s fingers ran through her curls with a kind of gentleness she didn’t bless many with. There was something calming about it all- sitting in the park, laying on the grass with flowers springing up all around them, being together without a worry in the world.

Days could’ve passed, and she wouldn’t have noticed so long as Alya was there, with her, in their bubble that let the rest of the world pass by without so much as a glance.

But, as it were, their comfortable silence only lasted until Alya checked her phone and how late it was getting. She sat up, and Marinette missed her instantly, her subconscious making her shift closer to her best friend.

“You’ve gotta go so soon?” Marinette asked, pouting just a bit.

“Yeah, Maman wants me to watch the twins tonight.” Alya stretched and stood up before offering Marinette her hand.

Grabbing it, Alya hoisted Marinette to her feet a little too roughly, causing Marinette to fall forward into her. Alya’s arms immediately rapped around her to make sure she was stable, but instead of letting go, she held closer.

Ignoring the dust of pink on her cheeks, Marinette hugged back, hiding her smile in Alya’s flannel.

“See you tomorrow?”

“Definitely,” Alya promised, the warmth of her breath on the back of Marinette’s neck making her shudder.

They stayed like that for a short minute before Marinette pulled away, a bittersweet look on her face.

“You should go. Don’t want you to get in trouble or anything- we’ve got a sleepover planned this weekend, after all!” she exclaimed. Her arms were half crossed, with one one hand brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. She rocked back and forth on her feet the tiniest bit and looked up at Alya through her lashes.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course. Lord knows I don’t want to get grounded. See you tomorrow, Sweets,” Alya said with a wink. Side-stepping Marinette, she paused half-way through and quickly planted a kiss on her cheek before hurrying off.

It took ten minutes of Tikki trying to get Marinette’s attention for her to fully process what had happened, and when she did, her face blossomed into a brilliant red that Tikki could’be camouflaged against.

It took another ten minutes for her to drag herself back home, at which point she promptly faceplanted into her pillows and screamed, although it still wasn’t louder than the thunderous beat of her heart.

i 

“Hey, can I ask you a question?” Alya asked as she spun in Marinette’s computer chair. She leaned back as far as it would let her, and her head hung off the back in a way that Marinette knew would give her a crick in the neck.

“Always,” Marinette responded, refusing to look up and break her concentration when her toenails were almost perfectly painted.

“You have a lot less pictures of Adrien on your wall than you used to.”

Faltering with her nail polish hovering just above her next nail, Marinette sighed. So much for not losing her concentration.

“That’s not a question,” she said dryly.

“Oh, stop being so smart. The ‘why’s that?’ was implied, you left boob.”

Marinette scoffed and rolled her eyes, but silently cursed the way her stomach did a flip at the topic of conversation.

“First, I’m at least both boobs. Second, I dunno.” She shrugged and went back to carefully painting. “I guess I just... realized that I like someone else,” she said, soft and low.

It felt weird, saying it out loud. But it also felt nice.

Alya stopped spinning, sat up straight, and looked at her. “Oh, yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“When’d you realize...?”

“When I- um, that is, when Ladybug and Chat Noir defeated Prime Queen, I started to suspect. But I realized it the week after.” Marinette absolutely refused to look up now, and instead watched her nails like they’d suddenly started talking.

“That was a couple months ago now,” Alya stated, rolling somewhere else in the room. “Thirsty?”

“Uh, yep, yeah it was.” Pleased with her nail art, Marinette closed her polish and began to blow on them to help the drying process along. “I could drink. Water, please?”

Alya hummed in response and grabbed two bottles of water before scooting the chair over to the chaise where Marinette was. Handing one over, she commented, “Hey, those came out really nice.”

“Thanks and thanks.” Taking the bottle, she opened it and took a quick sip. “Want me to do yours next?”

“Uh, hell yes. Maybe we should do it up in your bed though, I don’t think we have enough room here,” she said, tapping the chaise.

“Mm, yeah, I think you’re right. Meet me up there, I’m gonna just let mine dry a couple more minutes.”

“Okie doke.” Alya rolled the chair back over to Marinette’s desk and headed up to her bed. “So, about your new crush... I know them?”

“Uh huh, you could say that.”

“Not gonna tell me who?”

“I have a sneaking suspicion that you already know who it is,” Marinette said, a nervous laugh escaping her. 

“And how do you know that?” Alya asked, peaking over the edge of the bed. 

Marinette looked over her shoulder at her and rolled her eyes, a small smile on her face.

“Well, for one thing, you were there when she kissed me on the cheek a few days ago...” she trailed off, taking another drink.

“Oh, yeah. I liked her, she seemed pretty cool.”

Marinette choked on her water at that, a laugh trying to come up at the same time the water tried to go down. “Oh my god,” she said between coughs, “you’re so ridiculous.”

“Maybe so, but it hasn’t driven you away from me yet, now has it?” Alya grinned down at her.

“No, I suppose it hasn’t.” Looking at the polishes she had out, she called up, “What colors do you want? I’ve only got pinks and whites out right now.”

“I’m kind of feeling yellow today.”

“Yellow I can do. Get comfy, cause you’re not gonna be moving around and getting polish on my sheets like last time,” Marinette warned.

“Well if you didn’t instigate a tickling war, it wouldn’t have happened!” she called back.

Despite her words, Marinette could hear Alya moving and shook her head. “My room, my rules, Peaches. What I say goes.”

“That’s unfair and you know it, Dupain-Cheng.”

“All is fair in love and war,” she laughed, getting up to put her shades of pink away and to grab her yellows. “Did you want any other colors?”

“Don’t use famous quotes on me,” Alya scolded. “But I’d love some of those cute flowers you did on yours, so white too, please!”

“Sure thing!” Grabbing what she needed, she headed up to her bed and immediately dropped everything on her sheets.

Before her, Alya was looking at the picture she kept hidden beneath her pillows. With humor in her eyes, she looked up to meet Marinette’s embarrassed gaze.

“I didn’t know you liked it that much,” she said, her eyes and nose crinkled in that special way that made everything in the world okay by simply existing in proximity to Marinette.

“It... It’s one of my favorites,” Marinette admitted, bending over to pick up all the nail polish bottles up. “And you signed it, so it’s special.”

“Aw, girl. I’m glad it’s so important to you.” Setting it down beside her, Alya looked thoughtful. “You know, I only have Ladybug’s autograph. You’ve never given me Marinette’s.”

Marinette had to work very hard not to drop the vials of paint again as she stared at Alya in shock. That was short-lived, however, and soon the shock shifted into a playful smirk.

“I’m sure I could pull some strings to get you one, if you really wanted it.”

“Oh, I do,” Alya laughed, laying back when Marinette tapped her foot to signify she was going to start. “I really, really do.”

“Then consider it done,” Marinette told her with a smile. Opening one of her paints, she set to work.

nulla 

That night, after nail painting and the introduction of Tikki, Marinette and Alya had settled in to bed. Marinette was already well on her way to falling asleep, the excitement of the day taking a toll on her.

Alya, on the other hand, laid wide awake next to her.

“Mari, you still awake?” she asked, quiet but needing.

“Mhm,” Marinette hummed out, cracking her eyes open enough to see Alya watching her back.

“Can I ask you another question?”

“You jus’ did-” she yawned- “but yeah.”

“Are we...” she hesitated before finishing,”Are we dating now?”

That woke her up. “Um. Do you want us to be?”

“Yes? Maybe? I don’t know!” Alya groaned. “All I know is that I want to be more than friends.”

Marinette didn’t answer for a few seconds, but did find Alya’s hand to hold.

“Then we are,” Marinette told her, emphasizing her statement with a squeeze of her hand. 

Alya squeezed back and sighed, finally closing her eyes. “Good night, Mari.”

“Night, Als.” Marinette yawned and followed suit, scooting closer to the warmth Alya exuded.

As soon as she fell asleep, Marinette found herself seeing Alya again, and her smile made its way through to her sleeping form.

Everything felt just right.