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marshmellowpaint · 14 hours

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um. gummys first fic. its a mizuena meeting oneshot based off of that strawberry shortcake audio. around 1300 words. open to criticism. hi.

Mizuki is contemplating the rising prices of their local coffee shop when they meet her.

They’re taking a stroll along the rough sidewalk, an iced matcha in hand, the ice shaking with their ever step. It’s a beautiful Saturday, the sun mostly covered by fluffy white clouds that protect Mizuki from the bright glare. They have an earbud in as they walk that plays an opening from an anime they’ve started watching recently. Their phone buzzes in their pocket, a specific vibration that tells them it’s only a Twitter notification. Still, they’ve got nothing but time.

Pulling off into the grass beside the gravel, they slow to a stop as they pull their phone out of their trouser pocket. Swiping, Mizuki taps the notification with their thumb and brings into view a new art post from an animator they follow. Before they can even press the ‘like’ button, a voice clears its throat from a ways beside them.

“Excuse me.”

Startled, Mizuki pulls out their earbud, turning to stare at the voice with wide eyes and a partially open mouth. They come face-to-face with a girl sitting on the grass, no older than Mizuki, her brown hair tied into a short ponytail at the base of her neck and paint on her overalls. She’s sporting an impatient expression as she speaks again.

“You’re standing in the way.” The girl tilts her head to the side to emphasize her point.

Mizuki bristles, letting out a small “oh.” They turn their head to the other side of the street, wondering what the girl is referring to. “In the way of what?”

The girl huffs. “I can’t see what I’m painting.”

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Mizuki says sincerely, backing up to give the girl a view of whatever she’s painting. Facing the girl, they approach her with fidgety hands. “Are you an artist?”

“Uh-huh,” the girl affirms, her chin tilted high as she focuses her eyes back on her sketchpad that she holds straight up in front of her.

“Can… can I see?” Mizuki asks shyly, one foot poised behind the other as they continue to wring their hands.

The girl pauses, looking Mizuki up and down with slightly narrowed eyes. She hums in thought, her lips pressed together. The hand holding her paintbrush is held in the air. “…Sure, go ahead.”

With a small smile, Mizuki cautiously steps forward to stand behind the girl, taking care to avoid the paint palette on the grass beside her.

“Wow!” Mizuki stares open-mouthed as they take in the page before them. The painting, though half-finished, is magnificent. They realize that the girl is painting the bakery across the street, its warm tones covering the page. Bursts of muted oranges and yellows fill Mizuki’s vision. “That-that’s amazing!”

The girl keeps her eyes on the page as she continues working, studying it. “Mm. It’s not my best work. I wish I would’ve used different colors earlier on.”

“Oh,” Mizuki says quietly. Admittedly, they don’t know much about painting – their only artistic experiences are with video editing and a little bit of sewing. Even so, Mizuki knows that even from the perspective of an outsider, the painting is gorgeous. “Well, I think it looks great,” they insist, “You’re really talented.”

The girl huffs out a laugh. Not unkind, just surprised, Mizuki thinks. An almost bittersweet look crosses the girl’s caramel eyes as she mumbles, “Thanks.”

Mizuki points to the spot beside the girl. “Can, um. Can I sit?”

She glances back up at Mizuki, just a quick turn of the head, before settling back towards her sketchpad. “Sure.”

Mizuki takes a seat beside her on the grass, cradling their matcha in both hands as they sit cross-legged with their elbows on their knees. They watch the girl’s paintbrush-wielding hand move with shaky but precise strokes along the half-filled page. Moving their eyes over to the girl’s tanned face, she’s the picture of concentration, her thick eyebrows pulled tight and her mouth set in a thin line.

Mizuki knows they probably shouldn’t talk – they don’t want to shift the girl’s focus. They wait until it looks like she’s at a pausing point to blurt out, “Uh – My name is Mi-Mizuki.”

“Ena.” She balances her paintbrush on her denim-covered thigh, extending a hand to Mizuki to shake. As their hand grasps Ena’s they’re met with something cold and wet. Ena retracts her hand quickly, wiping it on her overalls, leaving orange marks in its wake. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t realize there was some on my hands! It’s just paint, that’s my bad,” she tells them frantically.

Mizuki looks down at their palm, stained with a shade of cider orange. The cool feeling of the paint dulls out the warmth of the rest of Mizuki’s hand. Pressing the same fingers into the paint on their palm, they look back at Ena, who’s still in the process of cleaning all traces of paint from hands. Mizuki speaks up. “No, it - it’s okay, really, don’t worry about it.”

They pause, lifting up their hand with the palm facing Ena. “Besides, we kinda match, don’t we?”

Ena gapes at them for a moment, surprised, before barking out a short laugh. She sighs then, letting her still-paint-stained hands fall onto her legs. She looks at Mizuki with a sympathetic expression, then averts her gaze to the spot next to them on the grass.

Before Mizuki can say anything, Ena perks up suddenly as she keeps staring at something beside them. Her sketchbook is laid flat on her legs, forgotten about. “Hey, isn’t that a cup from the café around the corner?” She points to the plastic with a painted nail.

“Oh.” Mizuki looks beside themselves. “Yeah, it is. I’ve been going a lot ever since they opened.”

“Ooh, I’ve been meaning to check it out,” Ena says with a new confidence in her voice. She pulls out her phone from her front overalls pocket, scrolling and tapping on the screen. She starts talking rapidly again. “They’re supposed to have these super cute fluffy pancakes that look like animals, right? I was really wanting to try the panda, but my brother’s been busy, so he could never go with me. Yeah, they sell these, right?”

Ena holds up her phone, a yellow charm dangling from the side. Mizuki peers at the screen, which shows the café’s online menu, set on a picture of pancakes decorated with berries and chocolate chips to resemble a panda.

Mizuki laughs lightly at Ena’s enthusiasm. “Yep, sure do. I usually just get a drink, but I’ve heard good things about their food, too.”

“Hmm, in that case…” Ena sets down her phone on the grass, bringing a hand to rub at her chin. “I might go tomorrow. I don’t think –”

She stops, her face the perfecf portrayal of the ‘idea lightbulb.’ “Hey, actually, what are you doing tomorrow? You should totally go with me!”

She’s excited now, Mizuki can tell, eyes wide and leaning forward with her hands closed and bouncing on her knees. Mizuki would hate to ruin that. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I think I’m free.”

Ena gives an abrupt little squeal, hands reaching for her sketchpad and tearing off a corner of the paper. She pulls a pencil from her pocket and quickly jots somethong down, hands shaky with glee.

“Here, I have to go, but here’s my Nightcord tag.” Ena presses the paper into Mizuki’s hands, already moving to gather her things. “We can talk details later, okay?”

“Uh, sure, sounds good,” Mizuki says dazedly. Ena continues to bustle about. “Do – Do you need help with your stuff?”

“Nope, all good, thanks,” Ena chirps distractedly. She stands with her sketchpad and palette in hand, looking down at Mizuki witu her hair ruffled and face bright. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay Mizuki?”

Mizuki smiles back at her, dimples marking their cheeks. “Okay,” they beam.

Ena gives a short bow before spinning on her heel and walking briskly across the grass and onto the sidewalk, away from Mizuki. Mizuki stares after her, face warm. The ice cubes in their matcha have melted by now.

Mizuki drinks the rest of it with a smile on their face.

#FINALLY READ IT!!!!!!!!#GUMMY!!!! THIS IS SO GOOD!!!!!!!!!#AHHHH YOURE SO COOL #your writing is SO!!!!!! 💖💕💞💗💘💗💖💕💞💗💘💖💗💞💕💞💘💖💘💞💗💗💖💘💖💘💞💗💖💗💘💖💘💞💗💞💘💖💗💞💗💞💘💖💘🤣💗💖💘💖💗💞💗💗💞💘#i love the characterisation gahhhhhh #so cool #fic

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marshmellowpaint · 14 hours

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Yunho The Human

AT AU is back with another little story written by @nnnnnnnothingtoseehere

How Yunho ends up in Universe A

Master Post for AT AU

“You should spend more time with Jongho,” his mom says. “Take him somewhere on your day off, like you used to.”

Yunho almost snorted at that, but manages to hold it back. It was too early in the day for another fight with his parents, especially after the previous night.

It had started the same way it always did, with his dad making some off handed comment about what Yunho should be doing with his life but clearly wasn’t.

He hadn’t even tried to hold back the biting response then, and things quickly devolved.

It had made him want to scream because they acted like he should just get over himself and move on with his life, like that was something easy or possible to do.

Yunho didn’t know how to explain to them the way his chest ached all the time, or how hard it was to get out of bed every morning. He knows they would say he should be moving on, especially after so many years.

After all, Jongho was fine. Jongho, who lost his parents. Yunho should be fine; he only lost his best friend, after all. Jongho is more than fine; he seems to be the next Albert Einstein at the age of twelve. He’s bright and smart and good at studying; in other words, everything Yunho isn’t.

It hurts more than Yunho will admit to be surpassed in every single category by a twelve year-old.

“You guys used to be so close,” his mom continues. She is washing dishes at the sink, with her back to Yunho. “He’s been through a lot, you know. It would be a shame if the two of you grew apart now.”

Yunho resists the urge to inform her that he’s been through a lot too, and maybe doesn’t want to spend time with the tiny little prodigy who is better than him in every way, including dealing with grief.

When he doesn’t respond, his mother eventually turns around to look at him.

“Did you hear me, Yunho?”

“Yeah,” Yunho mumbles, dragging his spoon through his cereal. “I heard.”

It’s already going soggy, and Yunho almost feels sorry for the limp bits of cereal floating around. He feels like that most of the time these days.

“You really should take him somewhere,” his mom says in that vaguely hopeful tone that Yunho has come to dread. “Get hot chocolate with him or something. Something fun, to get you both out of the house.”

“Fine,” Yunho is answering before he even realizes what he’s saying. “I’ll ask him.”

The smile his mom gives him just makes him feel worse. She looks so hopeful, like this will actually be the thing that gets Yunho’s life back on track.

He doesn’t bother to correct her. He’ll disappoint her soon enough.

Of all places, Jongho wants to go to the library.

Yunho just gapes at his cousin, finally asking what on earth he wants to do at the library.

Jongho rattles off some answer that goes straight over Yunho’s head. The kid is probably researching advanced particle physics for fun, or something similarly nerdy and genius.

“Fine,” Yunho sighs. “Let’s go.”

You could have cut the tension in the car with a knife. Yunho finally turns the radio up, desperate to listen to something other than the constant parade of guilt and self-criticism that makes up his thoughts.

Jongho didn’t say anything, just fidgeting with his gloves in the passenger seat.

He practically bolts out of the car the second Yunho puts it in park, disappearing through the library doors before he can even get fully out of his seat.

Figures. Yunho wouldn’t want to hang out with himself either.

He trails after Jongho, making a vain attempt to stomp some of the melting snow off his shoes before stepping into the library.

Yunho hasn’t been here in ages, and he takes a deep breath on instinct. The smell of books is comforting, and he takes a moment to just soak it in.

Everything is smaller than he remembers, but he’s definitely had several growth spurts since he was last here. The kid sized reading tables look ridiculously small, and Yunho can’t believe he ever fit in the seats.

He would come here with Mingi, mostly during the summer when they were bored. They would sit for hours and read every comic book the library had, until the words spun off the page or they fell asleep.

Yunho shakes his head violently, trying to dislodge the memories. This is why he doesn’t leave the house; they would roam all over town. He can’t go anywhere without being reminded of him.

It takes him way too long to find Jongho. The kid is sitting at one of the tables in the reference section, almost invisible behind a stack of at least five hefty books. Yunho quickly gives up on reading the title of the one in Jongho’s hands when he doesn’t even know what the first word means.

He flops down across the table from Jongho, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He is just opening one of his mobile games when a pointed ‘ahem’ gets his attention.

Jongho is glaring at him from across the table, face scrunched comically.

“What?” Yunho asks, earning a furious hiss from his cousin.

“We’re in the library,” Jongho whispers pointedly. “Talk quietly.”

“My bad,” Yunho mutters, glancing back down at his phone.

“This is a library,” Jongho repeats in a biting whisper. “Find a book to read.”

Yunho blinks at him for a long moment, weighing out the amount of energy it would take to actually fight him on this.

You’re supposed to be bonding with him, his mom's voice whispers in his head. Fighting would definitely not do that.

“Fine,” he grits out. “I’ll get a book.”

He stands up, pushing his chair away from the table with exaggerated care. Jongho watches him seriously, only looking back down at his book when Yunho actually begins to look at the nearby shelves.

Nothing in this section is remotely interesting, and Yunho wanders aimlessly in search of something decent. He almost doesn’t stop when he passes an end display of fairy tales, but something about the bright covers has his feet slowing almost on his own.

He knows he’s too old for fairy tales at this point. He knows better than most that happy endings are pure fiction; the real world is much worse.

The book at the top of the display looks different from the rest, and he picks it up on whim. Flipping it open, he expects bright pictures and ornate pages, all accompanying a predictably bland story about princes and princesses and happily ever afters.

It quickly becomes apparent that the book in his hands is anything but that. It doesn’t even look like it’s a fairy tale, really. It seems more like a guide to being a hero, and Yunho finds himself reading more and more while just standing there.

He knows it’s dumb, and that he should find some actually helpful book probably called something like “How To Fix Your Life For Dummies.” But deep down, he knows he just wants to think about something other than his shitty life. Some weird book that takes itself way too seriously may be a cheap bit of escapism, but Jongho clearly won’t let him burn a couple of hours on his phone.

Tucking the book under his arm, Yunho returns to where he left Jongho. The kid hasn’t moved, but has switched books. There’s no way he read it that fast, but Yunho honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he did.

Doing his best to ignore his cousin, Yunho sits back down and opens up the book again. It’s not a difficult book to read, and he is soon comfortably lost in a vaguely nonsensical chapter about how to kiss a princess.

The book is simple, but it’s just enough to keep him from thinking about anything else. It’s honestly nice to sit here and escape for a while, and before long he’s more than halfway through. He has to skip some sections that seem to be written in entirely different languages, as well as a few that are just covered in symbols and diagrams that don’t make any sense.

Yunho is just about to turn the page when he realizes the pages of the book look like they’re sparking, somehow. He pauses, watching as what look like little white sparks jump off the page, bouncing harmlessly off his clothes and the table.

He is just beginning to open his mouth to ask Jongho if he’s losing his mind when the sparks begin to pour off the book, increasing in brightness.

Yunho had been leaning the book against the edge of the table, and he quickly pushes it fully on the table. That doesn’t stop the sparks, and as he watches they begin to flow upwards until there’s a whole bunch of them floating a few inches over the book.

This is it, Yunho thinks distantly. It’s the mental break you were waiting for. He’s finally going crazy; it took years but he’s made it.

The sparks have solidified into a mass of light, hovering over the book. The light stretches as Yunho stares, widening and flattening until it’s as large as a decently sized tv. Some part of his brain wonders if anyone else is seeing this or if it’s just him.

The light has been white up until now, but the center of the mass begins to darken. The effect reminds Yunho of pouring water on ice, how it will make some parts of the ice transparent and more glass-like.

He leans forward, trying to get a better look. The darkness has now spread to cover most of the mass, leaving only a rim of light around the edges. It reminds Yunho of every portal he’s ever seen in superhero movies and comic books.

He almost falls out of his chair when he realizes there’s a person looking back at him from the other side. Their features aren’t clear, still obscured by the surface of the portal.

Yunho watches in horrified fascination as a hand reaches through the portal, the surface dragging for a moment before breaking around their fingers. The hand grabs the edge of the portal like it’s solid and Yunho stares because normal people don’t have blue skin.

He looks up just in time to see the person’s other hand pulling the surface aside enough for their head to poke through, dragging it out of the way.

The person looks to be a guy, around Yunho’s age. He looks pretty normal, with dark hair and sharp eyes that survey the library quickly.

You would almost think he’s human if it wasn’t for the bright blue skin and pointy ears clearly on display because of his haircut.

Yunho is tempted to look around to check if anyone else is seeing this alien portal with a real life alien reaching out of it, but he doesn't. He’s sure that if he as much as blinks this will all disappear.

“Have you seen a guy with white hair?” the alien asks, looking at Yunho. “He’s just a bit taller than me, and pretty skinny?”

Yunho gapes at him for a long moment, trying to remember how to speak.

“U-um, no,” he finally stammers.

The alien’s face tugs into a frown at that, and he lets out a slight sigh.

“Fair enough,” he admits, beginning to pull away from the portal. The second he does, it begins to close, the dark part fading first.

“Hey wait,” Yunho calls out, reaching for the portal without thinking about it.

He jolts the second he touches it, feeling like he was just shocked. He is opening his mouth to say ouch or yell or ask what on earth is going on but he quickly finds he can’t. The feeling of vertigo rushes up to catch him, and Yunho feels like he’s being yanked forward through the portal.

He lands hard on his ass, voice coming back in the middle of a yell. He quickly stops yelling, way too surprised for that.

The blue guy from before is standing in front of him, looking just as surprised and confused as Yunho feels. They seem to be in some kind of room, but everything from the walls to the floor are perfectly black. It’s unsettling, making him feel like he’s standing in an open void somehow.

“Where the hell are we?” Yunho asks. “What is going on? Who are you?”

The guy just stares at him, eyes wide as they dart around Yunho’s face quickly.

“Did you find what you were looking for?”

The sound of a third voice startles both of them, and Yunho scrambles to his feet as the blue guy whips around.

He almost falls again because there is what could only be described as a column of light in front of him. He squints at it, belatedly realizing that it’s not column-shaped at all. It has a head and arms, and clearly a voice.

Yunho could have sworn he didn’t have that much to drink last night. This has to be a dream, a hallucination, something. He’s been watching too many dumb superhero movies lately and his subconscious is finally deciding to take revenge.

“U-um, sort of?” the blue guy stammers. “I mean, I found him but that’s not what I was looking for.”

He sounds just as confused as Yunho knows he looks, but he’s thankful the weird light person isn’t talking to him. The blue guy is weird, but he at least has a face.

“That’s great,” the light person says easily. “I hope you succeed in your journey.”

They raise a hand, and Yunho feels that same sense of vertigo rising up to meet him. This time it feels like he’s falling backwards, the whole sensation churning his stomach violently.

At least he lands on his feet this time.

The room around him thankfully looks relatively normal after the freaky void place, worn wood under his feet and making up the walls.

He looks around slowly, trying to figure out what exactly happened.

He seems to be in a treehouse of some kind, various branches crisscrossing through the walls and floor. The whole place is fairly small, but it may just look that way because it’s absolutely full of stuff.

Yunho gapes at the eclectic assortment of weapons, tech, and unidentifiable objects scattered across the floor and various surfaces of the room. None of this makes any sense, and he only ends up with more questions when his gaze lands on the two other people in the room with him.

One of them is the alien guy from before, looking just as blue. He is staring at a normal looking guy, who is in turn staring at Yunho.

They stare at each other for a long moment before everyone starts talking at the same time.

“Is this him?” the normal guy asks, clearly talking to the blue alien dude.

“No, I have no idea who this is,” the blue guy responds.

It’s a little tricky to actually make out what he’s saying because Yunho is also talking.

“What the hell is going on?” he demands. “Who are you guys? What is this place?”

They all continue to talk over each other for several minutes before the normal looking guy holds up both hands.

“Stop,” he says loudly. “We can’t all talk at once.”

Yunho shuts his mouth reluctantly, knowing that he does make a good point.

The guy turns to face him more fully, giving Yunho a chance to get a better look at him. He certainly looks normal, with dark hair. He does have blond undersides, peaking through the upper half of his hair

He also has a plant growing out of the top of his head. It’s a perfectly normal plant, with leaves and everything. Yunho gapes at it, not quite able to believe his eyes.

“You ended up in our headquarters, so you’re going to answer our questions,” the guy continues briskly. “Sit down.”

“Um, where?” Yunho asks, glancing around the crammed treehouse.

The blue alien dude moves forward to shove a few weapons and piles of metal parts off a surface, eventually revealing a couch under all the stuff. He gestures to it, and Yunho obediently sinks down.

“Right,” the normal guy says, putting his hands on his hips. “Have you ever seen this guy?”

He bends down to pick up a rolled up piece of paper, unrolling it so Yunho can see.

The paper has a drawing of someone on it, but Yunho can’t make out anything actually identifiable. The drawing looks like it was done by a two year old, and not an artistically inclined two year old.

“...no,” Yunho says slowly. “No I haven't.”

“Are you sure?” the guy asks again. “He has white hair? Seems pretty powerful?”

“Nope,” Yunho repeats, shaking his head.

“Think he’s lying?” the guy asks, turning to look at the blue alien.

He just shrugs, looking as confused as Yunho feels.

“You know I can hear you,” Yunho points out, not particularly liking being talked about like he’s not in the room.

“Hush,” the guy tells him. “We’re the ones interrogating you.”

Yunho doesn’t point out that this is the most informal interrogation he’s ever seen. He’s sitting on their couch, for crying out loud. There’s nothing to keep him here, and Yunho really doubts either of them could actually restrain him if necessary. The blue guy is pretty muscular, but Yunho has at least four inches on him.

The other two continue to talk, at least having the decency to lower their voices so Yunho can’t hear them as easily.

“Ok fine,” the normal guy finally says. “If you’re sure.”

The blue alien nods, turning back to face Yunho.

“Hi,” he says with a smile that makes his eyes disappear. “We didn’t exactly start off on the right foot. My name is San.”

Yunho blinks at him, definitely not expecting a formal introduction.

“Hey,” he says after a moment. “I’m Yunho.”

“Nice to meet you, Yunho,” San tells him.

He pauses for a moment, clearly waiting for the other guy to say something. When he doesn’t, San elbows him in the side.

“Oh right,” he says quickly. “I’m Wooyoung.”

Yunho nods, murmuring some kind of acknowledgement.

“Where are we?” he asks, gesturing vaguely around the room.

Wooyoung and San look at each other for a long moment, clearly having some kind of nonverbal discussion.

“Probably better to just show him,” San says.

Wooyoung nods, making the plant on his head sway slightly.

“C’mon then,” he says, beckoning Yunho.

Yunho gets up off the couch, following a little ways behind as San and Wooyoung cross the cluttered floor, heading for what appears to be a trapdoor set in the floor.

Wooyoung tugs it open, revealing a ladder leading down to the ground.

Yunho doesn’t see how showing him the outside of their treehouse will answer his question at all, but he doesn’t point that out. He eyes the ladder nervously, but it seems to hold Wooyoung’s weight easily as he practically slides down the rungs.

He follows a bit slower, thankful that San waits until he’s almost at the bottom before stepping down too.

Wooyoung is waiting at the base of the ladder, and he meets Yunho’s eyes.

Instead of saying anything, he just gestures to the landscape around them.

Yunho is opening his mouth to ask a question, but finds that he can’t think of any. The tree the treehouse is in seems to be the only thing for miles, standing tall on the top of a slight hill. The land is gently rolling, fields of grass extending for what feels like forever.

A distant mountain range completes the feeling of stepping into a painting, smudges of snow decorating the peaks. Yunho gapes at the scene, awed to some extent by the natural beauty, but much more dumbfounded by the lack of anything modern.

There’s nothing; no telephone poles, no roads, no cars. There aren’t even any buildings that look remotely normal. Yunho is definitely excluding what might be a village off in the distance; he is very sure none of it will look like it’s supposed to.

This isn’t home, he thinks distantly. It can’t be; he’s very sure there isn’t anywhere on the planet this remote and untouched.

That’s not even considering Wooyoung, who has a plant growing out of his head, and San, who is blue.

“Where is this?” he asks slowly, turning to look at Wooyoung.

He grins proudly, puffing out his chest a bit.

“You’re in our world,” he says with a grin. “Pretty cool, isn’t it?”

#OKAY FINALLY READ IT GAHHHHHHHHH #THIS IS SO COOL!!!!!!#nnn's writing is MWAH gorgeous 🤧🤧🤧#god i love this au fr #ateez

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