#but then she called me and handed me the same watercolors from last class. and then said ”take them. as a gift” | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sehunniepotwrites · 4 years

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sakura kiss | n.yt

PART III OF FOR YOU IN FULL BLOOM: THE HANAHAKI COLLECTION

🌸 synopsis—the four times you noticed yuta’s love for flowers and the one time you realized it was not the flowers he was in love with

🌸 genre— would you be so kind? universe ; hanahaki!au, university!au, flower shop!au, angst, romance, slight fluff, mutual pining, strangers to lovers!au 🌸 pairing— art student/florist!yuta x art student!reader (f) 🌸 word count— 9000+

🌸 warnings — cursing; mentions of coughing, vomiting, hospital visits, death (no one dies!!), two idiots in love

🌸 author’s note—so i finished a fic with my favorite trope in time for my birthday today (dec 11th) and i’m posting to celebrate! it all started with this tweet that said yuta used to work at a flower shop and enjoyed drawing the plants during his free time!

this was a fun write and it takes place in the same verse as wybsk, which is linked above! you can read sakura kiss as a stand alone or after wybsk to get a better understanding of two scenes! to those you came from my mark fic, i gave yn a name (kira)!

but here she is! enjoy and be sure to tell me what you think!! i love feedback uwu

Nakamoto Yuta, you noticed, was an unusual fellow. He was your senior in the art department, a fourth-year preparing for his graduation while you were a couple of semesters behind him. Other than his small circle of friends, the foreign exchange student kept to himself, burying his handsome face in his sketchbook. You had classes together before but those were large lectures with over fifty students in the room— this was the first time you shared a small studio lab with him.

Barely interacting with him in the past, you were determined to change that no matter how intimidating Yuta was.

Were you intimidated by his extremely good looks or his unmatched talents in the fine arts? Both. Definitely both. He turned heads without fail and when he smiled, oh my god, you thought he was the sun. Yuta was pretty, beyond pretty even, with his striking face, brown eyes, and perfect body proportions.

To add on top of his perfection, his art style was immaculate. The artist never failed to steal your breath away with a couple of strokes and a swipe of his blessed hand. Anything he touched turned to gold. Never sharing those thoughts with him in the past, you made a firm decision to tell your senior this coming semester.

Yuta sat at the easel next to you, barely two feet away from your station. His sketchbook and drawing utensils were already splayed out on the holder. He was fiddling with his phone to pass the time, his painted nails rapidly hitting his touchscreen. How did Yuta make something so mundane as checking his phone look so ethereal? The inner most thoughts in your head cursed whatever beings lived in the beyond for not endowing you with such looks.

You gulped, gathering up the courage to talk to him. “Hey,” you greeted shyly.

Hey? That was the best you could do?

Yuta turned towards you, gaze shifting away from his phone. “Hey,” he said back with a slight curve of the lip.

“I don’t know if you remember me but we had a couple of classes together last semester,” you forced yourself to say with an awkward smile.

He grinned and his teeth sunk into his bottom lip, almost like he was holding back a laugh. “Yeah, no, of course, I remember you.” Your name slips from his mouth, causing your awkward smile to turn into a genuine one. His tone is kind and his voice is low, sending shivers down your spine.

You tried your best to keep the conversation going, wanting to finally compliment him on his work but your professor entered the room and called for everyone’s attention. He handed out the syllabus to a student upfront and around the papers went, signifying the start of your first class. Yuta shot you an apologetic look, conveying that you could always continue the conversation later.

The overview of the course’s syllabus was always the boring part of the first days. Your eyes glazed over, still not fully awake from rising early, and you tried to shake the sleepiness away. Stealing a glance at Yuta, you almost laughed at how his easel was angled in a way to hide that he wasn’t paying any attention. His syllabus outline was discarded off to the side and Yuta’s hands were moving rapidly, sketching out a large tree in full bloom in a page of his notebook.

It looked like flower petals raining from the branches and a person leaning against the tree trunk, hiding underneath the shade. His sketching speed and quality amazed you— how exactly did he sketch that fast and that beautifully?

You made sure your professor wasn’t looking in your direction before nudging Yuta’s side to grab his attention. He snapped out of his drawing daze and turned to you with widened eyes. A red seeped into his ears and pale cheeks, but you missed it completely, eyes zoned in on his quick draw.

“Hm?”

“That’s really good,” you whispered.

He rubbed the back of his neck at your compliment. “It’s just a quick sketch,” Yuta tried to play it off. He was never one to take compliments so well.

You leaned over to get a closer look. Noticing you almost falling off your stool, Yuta shifted his easel slightly closer to yours. “Is that a cherry blossom tree?”

He nodded, “Yeah, they’ve been on my mind a lot.”

“Do they remind you of home?” you asked. You couldn’t imagine being an exchange student in a foreign country— you would miss home too much.

“Yeah but that’s not really the reason why I’m drawing them,” he replied. His eyes shifted to a look of pain or discomfort as if he was reminded of a scarring memory. You watched him closely to make sure he was okay. He cleared his throat before letting out a couple of concealed coughs, face digging into his shoulder.

“You alright, Nakamoto?” You were too embarrassed to call him by his first name.

“Yeah, I’m good. Just a little cough.” Yuta gave you a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, “And you can just call me Yuta, you know?”

“Right, noted,” the name felt so foreign on your tongue.

“I have cough drops in my bag if you want some,” you offered, already reaching down to grab your backpack. He quickly dismissed you, telling you it wasn’t necessary.

Continuing to watch him sketch, you admired the way Yuta fussed over the smallest details— the lining, the shading, etc. It was nothing more than a simple sketch but if it was gifted to you, it would be framed and hung for the world to see.

He really was an artistic genius.

“Cherry blossoms are my favorite flowers,” you said.

You were too absorbed in his drawing to hear him mutter, “I know.”

“You say something?”

Yuta cleared his throat again with a pained expression. His hand held his neck for a second before shaking his head. “I said, they used to be mine too.”

Huh, you never really picked him as the flower loving type.

—🌸—

This was the third time Nakamoto Yuta had flowers growing in his chest and he hated it.

It was less painful the first two times around, probably because they were nothing more than fleeting crushes. He was in high school then, wholly infatuated with two different students during those years. Yuta followed them around like a lovesick puppy, all smiles and waiting on their hands and feet. He coughed a couple of petals out and it caused some uneasiness, but after being rejected harshly, Yuta pushed himself to move on.

The pain of high school rejection could never compare to the dull ache he was feeling as he looked at you. There you were, the person he secretly admired for the past two semesters, merely two feet away at your own easel.

You looked so in your element, eyebrows knitted and pencil in hand as you sketched away. A sight so captivating, Yuta almost forgot to breathe. Being an artist himself, he wanted to preserve that image on a canvas but he didn’t think his hand could do you justice. No pencil sketch, no painted canvas, no marble or clay sculpture could even compare to you.

This was more than puppy love. More than infatuation. Yuta was sure of it but how was he to let you know? You barely knew each other and a confession out of nowhere wouldn’t be the best way to get acquainted.

Perhaps another time, he thought to himself, before turning back to his sketch.

You would’ve never guessed that Yuta Nakamoto had a thing for flowers but he did.

Then again, you didn’t really know what he had a thing for to begin with— your friendship just started to bloom. It was like a bud barely opening under the sunlight; with each interaction, there was something new you learned about the quiet yet charismatic art major.

You knew he was a Japanese exchange student that majored in art, that was a given. You recently learned he loved cherry blossoms and that watercolor was his favorite art medium yet you still wanted to learn more.

The first time you ran into him outside of class was in the university library. Yuta sat at one of the tables, his space surrounded by books on flowers. There were books on the language, arrangements, and gardening tips. His face was deep into his sketchbook once again, back bent over the desk but his focused eyes darted back and forth between his drawing and his page of reference.

Yuta didn’t even notice as you hovered over him, debating on whether you should say hi. Even with your shadow casting over his body, his deep concentration never faltered.

His page was filled with various plants and flowers, little notes in a messy scrawl right under their pictures. He was currently drawing cherry blossoms, the page he was referring to showcasing the anatomy of the famous flower.

“Cherry blossoms again, Yuta?” you broke the silence.

Your voice startled him, causing his pencil to slip from the artist’s grip. It made an accidental mark and you whispered an apology as he clicked his tongue.

“Don’t worry about it, nothing an eraser can’t fix,” Yuta reassured you as he rid his paper of the unwanted mark. He blew the eraser bits of his page, hand sweeping his surface clean. He offered you the seat next to him and you gladly took it.

“So, why are you always sketching flowers?” you posed as your hand gestured to all the books he had on his person.

“They’re beautiful, don’t you think?” he answered with another question. He gave you a cheeky little grin, his lips widening to show off his beautiful pearly whites.

“Well, yeah.”

“It’s a shame they die so easily,” Yuta said, fingers running over his sketches. “Beautiful but fleeting.”

“But that’s life, isn’t it?”

“I guess it is.”

You hummed at his answer. “You’re really passionate about flowers, aren’t you?”

“Something like that. I actually work at a flower shop nearby, maybe you’ve seen it?” Yuta fiddled with the front pocket of his backpack to pull out a business card. “I like learning about the meanings to help the customers in the shop, amongst other things.”

You took the card from his grip, examining it. For You in Full Bloom was printed largely on the thin piece of cardboard. Staring at the name, you wondered why it sounded so familiar until it hit you.

“Oh, I pass by it everyday while walking to campus! I live two blocks away from the shop.” Your smile grew wider and he smiled back for a second before his face contorted into one that conveyed pain.

Yuta turned away from you to cough into his hand, his free one hastily digging into his pocket. He pulled out a handkerchief and began to cough into that. Shocked by his sudden sick fit, you quickly patted him on the back, hoping it would help him hack out whatever was lodged in his throat.

You saw him peek into the small square of fabric and wince at whatever it caught. He cleared his throat before turning back to you. “Sorry,” Yuta muttered, rubbing the front of his neck to soothe it. Placing a cough drop in his hand, he took it without complaint and popped it in his mouth. The relieved sigh he let out made you feel slightly less worried.

“You’re still sick?” you frowned. “You should really get that checked out, you know?”

He waved you off, “It’s nothing serious, I swear. What were we talking about again?”

“Cherry blossoms?”

“Your favorite flower.”

“And yours,” you added.

He hummed, “And mine.” There was a solemn tone behind his words but before you could press on the subject, he coughed again.

“Did you know that they’re also a symbol of renewal?”

Shaking your head, you urged your classmate to continue.

“Cherry blossoms hold the bittersweet meaning of life and death but they also bring the message of new beginnings.”

—🌸—

Yuta just wished when it came to you and him, the flowers meant the start of something new but no— instead, they just reminded him of the ache in his chest.

They reminded Yuta of how alive he was but also how he was one step closer to his grave.

Yes, you were merely classmates but he felt like he knew you solely from all the stories that were shared by your mutual friends in the art department. Ten and Taeyong sang praises on how thoughtful you were, always helping professors clean their studios after hours. Sicheng brought up how passionate you were about your major— Yuta himself bore witness to this many times during lectures and he wanted to know more about you.

A lot of charm filled your figure and it was enchanting, it really wasn’t that hard for him to fall.

Yuta fell for you much like the blossoms from the cherry trees.

And just like the blossoms, his time was fleeting but you were so completely unaware.

You left the library first, having forgotten that you had office hours with a professor. He watched you leave, eyes fixed onto your back.

Someone once said that you become miserable if you love someone too much. Yuta believed that to be true. There was a pang in his chest, heart racing against his rib cage as a stronger nausea attack hit him.

He gasped for air as his weakened stomach turned with sickness. Something was rising, working its way up his body. Yuta quickly slapped his hand over his lips as he hurled. Instead of bile, cherry blossom petals rained out of his mouth and into his palm.

He chuckled under his breath. Was it sad that he found beauty in his suffering?

Yuta thought himself to be crazy as he quickly shoved away the pain to begin sketching the petals in his hand.

For You in Full Bloom— what a nice name, you thought to yourself as you entered the shop with your friend Sicheng right behind you. The light ringing of the bell attached to the front entrance alerted the people at the counter of your presence. You picked up on harsh whispers before the tall male worker rushed to the back, forcing the young girl to assist you.

“Hi, welcome in!” the girl smiled brightly at you. “How can I help you today?”

Before you could reply, Sicheng stepped forward to answer, “Kira, we’re looking for Yuta— is he here?”

“Oh, Sicheng, hey! I didn’t even see you,” Kira exclaimed. “He’s, uh, not here right now.” Kira shot Sicheng a frustrated look, eyes darting to the back. Your companion sighed, done with his friend’s stupidity. You missed the quiet interaction, being too preoccupied with your surroundings.

“We’ll catch him another time then,” you answered her.

The small and quaint store was filled to the brim with flowers and your hands ghosted against the magnificent displays in the front window. The petals felt soft and the pleasing smells overwhelmed your senses in a good way. There was beauty all around you— there was no wonder why people loved visiting flower shops.

Various watercolor pieces were framed on the wall and you examined every artwork displayed. They were simple paintings of the plants that found a temporary home in the store. Some pieces were the flowers by themselves and others were of the many arrangements offered. They were vibrant, bright, and so incredibly detailed.

“I’ll tell him you stopped by,” she paused to ask for your name. You replied with a smile before turning back to take in the art.

“The paintings are a nice touch,” you commented, finally turning to look at her.

“Oh those? Yuta painted them,” Kira grinned, her body straightening up with pride. “He paints a lot when the shop is slow and my mom, the owner, loves to hang them up.”

“I should’ve known.” You took a closer look and spotted Yuta’s signature at the bottom of every picture.

“He’s very talented, isn’t he?” Kira hummed. Sicheng snorted for some unknown reason and you slapped his shoulder in response. There was nothing funny about Yuta’s skills and he knew that.

“Yeah, his skill is unmatched. I admire him for that.”

“Have you ever told him that?”

“God, no!”

“Why not?” Kira pressed. Sicheng joined in on the pressing and you moaned, an embarrassing heat creeping up your face,

“I don’t know. We talk but I find him to be a little intimidating,” you leaned against Sicheng’s shoulder and looped your arm through his. “I can’t just go up to him and fangirl over his work, can I?”

“But you want to,” he groaned. “And I’m tired of hearing you go on about it. Just tell him.”

A whine left your lips and you pinched your friend’s arm at the comment. He yelped and Kira just watched as the bickering continued.

“Yuta looks intimidating, yeah, but it’s just his resting bitch face, I promise. He’s just a softie,” Kira laughed and Sicheng agreed. “You should definitely tell him. He would love hearing it, especially from you.”

There was this knowing smile on both of their lips and it just seemed like they knew something you didn’t. You tugged on Sicheng’s arm as an attempt to ask him the florist meant by the last bit of her sentence and he tried to shrug you away. You just clung on tighter to your friend with a playful smile with Kira keeping a close eye on you.

You heard a cough come from the back of the store, causing both Sicheng and Kira to look up with concern. The coughing fit grew louder and louder, leaving Kira to excuse herself for a bit.

“If the other florist is sick, they should be at home resting,” you tutted with a frown.

“Some people are stubborn,” Sicheng threw back with a bit of distaste. Picking up on your friend’s bitterness, you wondered why he felt so strongly about it. You waved it off when a small display of sunflowers and red roses together captured your attention. Holding it in your hands, you admired how the two vibrant colors compliment each other.

Kira swung her way around the counter, “You like that bouquet?”

“It would be really pretty to paint,” you say, still spinning it around in awe.

“Yuta put it together himself yesterday, he’s pretty good at arrangements,” the florist beamed.

“What can’t he do?” you scoffed.

“Apparently, open his mouth and say what he needs to say,” Sicheng muttered beside you. Kira elbowed his stomach and he lurched over in pain.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” Kira laughed nervously. She worked her way to you and gestured towards the flowers, “It’s yours, on the house.”

You rejected the offer right away. “Oh no, I couldn’t,” is what you reply, attempting to shove the arrangement into her hands. With a kind grin, she persisted for you to take it and just asked you to buy from them the next time you visited. “I’m sure Yuta would love it if you took this one off our hands.”

With a promise, you hesitantly accepted the bouquet. Sicheng was snickering in the background and you had to hold yourself back from whacking him with the flowers. Thinking you’d taken too much of the florist’s time, you quickly said your thanks and headed out the door with a coy Sicheng trailing behind you.

—🌸—

“They’re gone,” Kira yelled towards the back of the shop. Yuta made his way back to his spot at the cash register while wiping at his mouth with his uniform sleeve. He quickly pulled out his art supplies from underneath the counter, setting everything up to resume his painting. Taking a seat on the stool, his body was slumped over his makeshift desk as he messed with his pencils.

His coworker rolled her eyes at him as she began to work on a bouquet of blue cornflowers and daisies— good fortune and new beginnings. Her nimble hands hastily worked their magic with ease as if she’s done it a million times before. Yuta observed her, quickly sketching her hands at work.

“You’re ridiculous, I don’t get why you had to hide.”

“I didn’t want her to see me like this,” Yuta said, his pained eyes covered by the long bangs that drooped down over his sketchbook.

“Like what?” Her hands went to her hips. “Sick and hopelessly in love?”

“Yeah, let’s put it that way.”

“There’s a solution to this, you know,” Kira pressed with furrowed brows. “You don’t have to keep suffering.”

This. Hanahaki is what she meant— the disease of unrequited love.

“I’m fine, Kira,” Yuta hissed with a bit more annoyance than he intended to. She flinched at the tone but still pushed on when he coughed again. He felt the discomfort of something being lodged in his throat and his body had the urge to hack it out. Suddenly, he was leaning over the counter with cherry blossom petals littering the cash register.

Yuta practically hacked up a storm, body curling in pain. One hand was clutching his stomach while the other had a death grip on the edge of the counter. The dizziness returned and he felt lightheaded as the retching subsided. A weakness took over his athletic body and Kira rushed to assist him back onto the stool. There was a bottle of soothing eucalyptus oil sitting right on the counter and she scrambled to open it before shoving it under his nose.

“You’re obviously not fine. You need to go to the hospital to get checked,” she said as Yuta took the small bottle from her grip. He dabbed a couple of drops onto his hands and rubbed it on his nose and throat. “Why won’t you accept any help that’s offered to you at the hospital?”

“I’ve gone through this before, Kira. Don’t worry about me.”

“Sometimes you forget I’ve gone through this, too!” she yelled. “I don’t want you to end up on your deathbed like I was at one point.”

Yuta couldn’t argue with that. He was hired back when she was in the hospital recovering from the final stage of the dreaded disease.

“We’re all worried about you here. Mom, Jongin, Mark? And your friends— Sicheng, Ten, and Taeyong? We all hate seeing you like this!” her voice grew louder and louder with each word, causing him to flinch at the shrill tone. Deafening noises plus nausea and headaches never meshed well with him.

“You don’t see how much it hurts seeing someone you care about suffer like this, Yuta. It hurts even more when we can’t do anything to help you go through this.”

Silence filled the room.

“Have you seen Dr. Kim lately?” Dr. Junmyeon Kim was the Hanahaki specialist that Kira recommended. He eased her back into normalcy after her scare.

“I will soon, I promise,” he said through haggard breaths. She guided him through a couple of breathing exercises and it calmed his racing heart down.

Kira sighed. With a quieter tone, she said, “It’s a shame the world made us experience heartbreak this way, isn’t it?”

Yuta smiled sadly at her— it was a shame.

The front door of the shop opened and the bell rang. They both turned to see Kira’s boyfriend Mark walk in with a cute grin. He clumsily hopped over the counter to plant a sweet kiss on her cheek. “Well, at least you got your happy ending,” he muttered too low for his coworker to hear.

Yuta knew there was a chance of having it too, he was just too afraid to speak.

If one were to look at him at that moment, his features hid nothing. Nakamoto Yuta was slowly ripping at the seams with the sakura branches poking their way out of his built figure and although multiple options were given to him, he still felt so unbelievably helpless.

It was the middle of the semester when you caught Yuta wandering the halls of the main art building. A grin found its way to your lips as you saw him with his messenger bag and a tubed container slung over his shoulder. Running to catch up with him, you slipped your arm into his free one. Your classmate yelped at the sudden contact and you let out a loud giggled that echoed in the empty hallway.

You finally felt close enough to initiate contact after sharing supplies with him during one studio session. That being said, it didn’t mean you were comfortable with revealing the feelings you harbored towards him— you wanted to keep that a secret for a little bit longer.

“What are you doing here? I thought you didn’t have classes in here today,” you asked.

“Oh, it’s just you,” Yuta sighed. You felt your heart drop at his words but you played it off with a scrunch of the nose and a teasing tone.

“Were you expecting someone else, Nakamoto?” you nudged his stomach and he avoided it, already predicting your actions. Yuta held back another series of coughs, quick turning away from you to cough into the handkerchief always kept on hand. He looked in pain as he continued to hack into the small piece of cloth and you brought a comforting hand to rub at his back.

“Every time I see you, you’re coughing,” you frowned. “You really need to get yourself checked, it’s been months.”

“No, no, I promise you I’m fine,” he replied with the shake of the head, his dark hair moving along with him. Even when ruffled and out of sorts, he looked good. He attempted to clear his throat by downing some water.

Your lips pursed at his words, not satisfied with his dismissive answer. “If you say so. Promise me you’ll see someone if it gets worse though.”

He agreed but you suspected it was to stop you from nagging. “To answer your question before you went all mom on me, I was here to talk to the department about my senior project.”

“Have you decided on your theme for your exhibit yet?”

Yuta smiled wistfully, “Flowers.”

“Should’ve known— it’s always flowers with you. It’s like you’re in love with them or something.”

He let out a scoff at your words. When you shot him a questioning look, he dismissed the act completely.

Time spent with Yuta always passed so quickly; one moment you were on the top floor of the building and the next, you were already at the bottom of the staircase. Ever the gentleman, he held the front door open for you and you thanked him with a smile. His brown eyes shrunk into little slits and whiskers appeared at the corners as he grinned back with a little chuckle.

How you longed to sketch that image.

A strong breeze blew through, causing a couple of leaves and fallen petals to fly around your figures. You crossed your arms around your front to keep the cold from seeping in and shut your eyes to keep debris out. Peeking at Yuta, you saw him cover his eyes with a calloused hand and he gently pushed you behind him to use his body as a makeshift shield. As soon as the breeze stopped, his grip on your arm loosened but the grip he had on your heart was still as strong as ever.

He whirled around to make sure you were alright and next thing you knew, his hand was lingering above your head. “You have something in your hair, do you want me to take it out?”

Yuta looked down at you with cautious eyes and you just noticed how close you were. Heat radiated off his body and your cheeks as you nod in approval. One dry hand moved to delicately clutch the side of your head as the other plucked a leaf out of your hair.

Your breath hitched as his fingers ran against your skin and tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear. There was a sudden pounding in your ears that matched the drumming rhythm of your heart.

“There,” he whispered as he let you go. With a smile, Yuta added, “good as new and pretty as a picture.”

“Pretty enough to paint?” you fired back with sarcasm.

“Definitely worthy of being displayed for the world to see,” he winked.

Was he flirting? It seemed like he was.

Maybe, Sicheng was right— Yuta could have feelings for you. But it could also just be wishful thinking.

Were you flirting? Is this how flirting works?

“Speaking of displays,” Yuta started nervously as he walked you to your car. He slowed down his walking pace and you easily matched it, your steps moving in time with his. The main walkway on campus was devoid of people, seeing how it was later in the school day. The path from the art building to the lot you parked in was short and you wished there was some way to extend it so you could spend more time with him.

“Will you, uh, come to my show?” he asked, his hand scratching the back of his head. His hair flopped with the wind and his unsure grin made him look so incredibly endearing. “I know it’s still too early to give you a set date but I’d love to see you there.”

“What? Of course I’ll come!” you said, stopping to slap his arm.

He winced at the contact. “Ow?”

“I would’ve gone even if you didn’t ask me,” you proceeded on the path with a smile. “I have to go and support my friends.”

There was a coughing fit coming from behind you and you whirled around to see Yuta hacking into his handkerchief again. It looked more painful than the last attack he had a few minutes ago. His breathing was shallow and he clutched his chest as the coughs continued.

“Oh my god, Yuta!” You were pretty sure you heard him gag as you rubbed his back. “Okay, I’m taking you to the hospital. You’re clearly not alright.”

He lifted a hand to tell you to stop. “No, no. I’m fine. I just—I gotta go,” was all he said with his hoarse voice before jolting away.

Staring at his strong back as grew smaller and smaller, you almost missed the fallen piece of cloth on the ground. Keyword: almost.

“Wait, Yuta!” you shouted, bending down to pick it up. “You dropped your hanke—” As soon as you lifted the handkerchief, perfectly preserved cherry blossom petals fell out of its hold. They rained towards the ground, decorating the sidewalk with the prettiest shade of pink.

Yuta was long forgotten. You were too lost in your confusion of the flowers.

“Cherry blossoms?” you asked yourself. “They’re not in season yet.”

—🌸—

Yuta heard you calling for him but he refused to turn around. He pushed himself to keep running despite the tight pain in his chest. Pulling out his phone, he sent quick text messages to Sicheng and Kira with his location, asking them to stop by and help him. The disorientation hit faster this time, causing him to tumble into a bench. He gripped the iron lining as he hurled and for the first time, it was so painful that it brought tears to his eyes. His mouth trembled as he let out a cry.

Yuta tasted the bit of blood that poured out of his lips.

Wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket, Yuta ignored how the crimson stained the fabric. A butter chuckle escaped him.

“Pink goes good with red,” he whispered to himself as another stinging pain made its way up his body.

He felt the branches slowly poking his lungs, climbing a path up his chest. It was just as Kira described— it was piercing like a sharp arrow to the heart. The arrow pressed and pressed and pressed until he was exploding with petals, blood, sweat, and tears. It was aimed to kill. He thought arrows to the heart were supposed to fill him with love, not a heart-wrenching pain that tempted him to rip the beating organ out of his chest.

This was all too much to bear.

The full flowers and the scratching of wood tickling his throat.

The lack of oxygen and struggle for air.

He felt it all. He wished he didn’t.

Yuta wished he was one of the people that found their soulmate with that ridiculous red string of fate tied to the end of his pinky. They were blessed with a lifetime of happiness while he was cursed with what felt like an eternity of agony that his weakening body could no longer withstand.

Yuta knew you didn’t love him but he adored you anyway.

This wasn’t a shoujo manga, Yuta knew that. This was real life. No one was going to kiss, kiss, fall in love with the blink of an eye.

Picking petals off of flowers wouldn’t solve his problem. He wished it did, though.

If only it was that easy.

The rest of the semester flew by quickly with midterms and mid-semester projects keeping you at bay. You barely saw Yuta, yet alone the rest of your friends, if not for your classes. All of you shared the same appearance: dark circles, eye bags, sunken cheeks, hunched backs, and glazed over eyes. Your group survived the weeks with a crazy amount of caffeine and not enough food.

With the school year finally over and graduation season starting, that meant one thing for the college of fine arts at your university— exhibitions. The music and dance departments already had their concerts and showcases. Final showings of the theatre department’s newest production just wrapped up yesterday; the only thing left were the senior art exhibits.

Dressed to the nines and not at all like a struggling artist, you paced back and forth at the entrance of the student art gallery with a bouquet of irises in your hand. Sicheng, your emotional support for the day, stood as you walked the same path with annoyance. You couldn’t exactly pinpoint why you felt nervous— it wasn’t even your exhibit, it was Yuta’s.

Ten and Taeyong wrapped up their exhibits the week prior; Yuta’s was the last one.

“Are you done freaking out? Can we go in now?” Sicheng cocked a brow at you with his phone in hand. “The others are already inside.”

Wringing your hands together, you took in a deep breath. “Okay, let’s do this.”

Sicheng rolled his eyes before opening the doors to the gallery. Stepping inside, you were immediately welcomed by paper flowers of all sorts hanging from the ceiling and the quiet chatter of the gallery’s visitors. To the right, you saw a sign displaying the exhibit’s name: Efflorescence. A brief description of the exhibit was placed below it and you took the time to read it before stepping further in.

Snapshots of his life told through the appearance and language of flowers.

Ten and Taeyong, your seniors and close friends, were waiting for you off to the side.

“Sorry for the wait, you guys.”

Sicheng grumbled, “Took her long enough to calm down.”

Ten laughed, “Were you nervous for him? You weren’t like this for our final exhibits.”

“Oh, leave her alone,” Taeyong hushed the other two. Wrapping an arm around you, he pulled you close, “She’s nervous because this is her crush we’re talking about.”

“For heaven’s sake, say that any louder and he’ll hear you!” you screeched. The boys chuckled at your embarrassed state as you went ahead of them, ready to walk your way through the large room. From the corner of your eye, you saw Yuta smiling by the exit, surrounded by people singing praises about his work.

You weren’t in a rush— you wanted to take the time to appreciate every piece before talking to him about why he chose to display each work. Talking to the object of your affection could wait.

The first few paintings were of his childhood and the flowers that accompanied each scene all had similar meanings— innocence, purity, etc. You noticed that most of his paintings were done with watercolor, which made complete sense.

It seemed like he was always prepared to paint something, brush and paint always at the ready. The genius basically carried his foldable watercolor palette and pad everywhere he went, not wanting to miss an opportunity to paint a beautiful picture if he were to pass by one. That was another thing you admire about him— Nakamoto Yuta saw beauty in everything.

Deeper into the gallery, you found more familiar scenes and faces. There was a landscape of the fine arts department, with daffodil petals scattered across the canvas and it was titled New Beginnings. You passed various portraits of your friends, their beauty rivaling that of their birth flowers that shared the same space. Marveling at how realistic his paintings looked, you made a note in your brain to relay that thought to the artist later. He captured the essence of each person perfectly in a painting, breathing life into it, and you honestly couldn’t understand how one could do that.

Spotting Kira’s familiar face admiring a painting up ahead, you quickened your pace to catch up to her. Feeling the light tap you placed on her shoulder, she turned around with a surprised look that turned into a genuine smile upon seeing your face. She released her hold on her companion, a cute boy with doe eyes and bright smile, before giving you a hug.

“You’re here!” she squealed. Taking notice of the flowers in your hand, she winked, “Irises, huh? Nice touch.”

“I stopped by your shop beforehand looking for you and an older guy wrapped them up for me,” you smiled sheepishly. “Should’ve known you would be here and not working.”

“My brother, Jongin,” Kira said. “And of course, I wouldn't miss Yuta’s exhibit for the world. He’s done a lot for me and my family.” She shared a fond look with the boy next to her and he squeezed her hand in return.

“This is my boyfriend, Mark, by the way,” Kira gestured to the boy next to her.

“Yo, nice to meet you, dude,” Mark extended his arm out towards you and you gladly took in your hands to give it a shake. You laughed at his casual greeting; it was charming.

“Back at you, dude,” you giggled back.

Turning to take a peek at the picture they were admiring, you couldn’t help but break out into a wide grin. It was the two of them with the flower shop as their background. Yuta had painted Kira seated on top on the counter, eyes closed with glee and hands clutching a small bouquet of blue flowers. Mark, on the other hand, leaned towards her with fingers gripping the table top and looking at her with a loving smile.

You could feel the love pouring out of it and it warmed your lonely heart. “Wow,” you whispered.

Kira leaned her head on Mark’s shoulder and he placed a tiny kiss to her temple. “I’m buying it from him once this is all over,” she said.

Knowing each flower played a part in Yuta’s paintings, you tried to distinguish what flowers she clutched in her hand. “They’re cornflowers,” Mark answered the question that lingered in your head.

“Why cornflowers?”

“Oh those things put us through a lot— a little pain sprinkled in with their beauty,” Kira smiled, leaving Mark to chuckle lovingly at her comment. It felt like a secret between the two of them and you were invading in their space. “They were what got us together in the first place.”

Her sentence made you cock a brow. How could flowers be painful? That was awfully cryptic, even a little unsettling but it sounded a little familiar to you; it was on the tip of your tongue.

“Yeah, they’re pretty special,” the boy grinned, gaze still glued to the person wrapped under his arm. “Cornflowers are my favorite.”

“They’re starting to become one of mine, too,” she returned the look.

Mark’s bright brown eyes were shining with the love you wish someone had for you. It was a sweet sight, to see such a young couple in love. A part of you was jealous that they found a love like that so early in their lives while you pined after an artist that was so infatuated with flowers and their meanings.

Wanting to leave them in their moment, you excused yourself with a smile. There were only four paintings left to see.

The first was a design you recognized. It was a more detailed painting of the sketch you had seen Yuta draw on the first day of the semester. A girl was seated on the grass, leaning her back on a trunk of a cherry blossom tree. Her hands were outstretched to the sky, trying to catch the falling petals in her hand. Stealing a glance at the title, Yuta titled the piece, Wishful Thinking.

Moving to the next piece, it was a close up of Yuta’s hands. His palms were pressed together, cupping cherry blossoms in his hand. Petals and full flowers were scattered around the canvas, filling out all the empty spaces. The bright pink stood out against the color of his skin. You admired the amount of detail this piece had— the wrinkles on his skin, the gradient found on the petals. It held your interest, leaving you to wonder what this piece titled Inside meant to him.

Yuta’s self-portrait was showstopping. He borrowed the flower shop’s name, calling this piece For You in Full Bloom. The painting brilliantly depicted him in all white, his eyes closed with pain and hands clutching at his throat. The blossoms were spilling out of his mouth, the petals tainted with a blood red. You could feel the sadness and the suffering emitting from the picture and it pained you to see such a vulnerable depiction of him.

Putting two and two together, you figured it out.

Hanahaki. You had read about the disease before, one of the artists you admired had it. They created art as a way to tell their story. It was their escape from the suffering, a way to ease their pain, and the one course of action they took to be remembered after their death.

The only piece of information you lacked was who made him tolerate such pain.

Skipping the last painting of the exhibit, you made your way through the crowd to find Yuta. He stood at the end with a polite smile, thanking everyone who attended his exhibit. Onlookers were showering him with compliments, leaving you to wait until the small crowd cleared out.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?” you breathed out with a concerned look. You couldn’t even spit out the name of the disease.

His smile widened into a genuine one, eyes gone soft at the sight of you. “You made it.”

Spotting the irises in your hand, he gestured towards the bouquet. “Are those for me?”

Still in shock that the person you were in love with was suffering all this time, you handed them to him without a word.

“Irises mean ‘congratulations,’ nice choice,” he laughed, trying to steer the topic away from his illness.

“Who?” you asked. “Who is it?”

Cocking his head, he answered you with another question. “You didn’t see the last one, did you?”

Shaking your head negatively, Yuta took you by the hand and the feeling made fireworks explode in your chest. Your heart was beating rapidly as he led you a few steps away. Nodding his head towards the last frame, he whispered, “Take a look.”

You felt his hand break out into a sweat and you wondered why this last one made him so nervous. Glancing at the title, you read the words Love Me Now.

Taking a deep breath, you mentally prepared yourself to see the person who had a hold on Yuta’s heart. Unlike him, you thought yourself strong enough to take the heartbreak— after all, you weren’t the one with flowers blooming inside you. Shifting your eyes over, you gasped as soon as you spotted whose face was framed on the wall.

Staring back at you was the most beautiful painting of yourself. It was a you that you had never seen before. He painted you in flourishing pastels to match the happy look on your face. He captured your smile lines, the curve of your eyes, and the scrunch of your nose in such detail; it amazed you beyond belief.

There was movement in your hair, the strands swaying in the wind along with the petals behind you. Your hands held a branch of your favorite flowers, half of them covering part of your face.

Captivated by seeing yourself through someone else’s eyes, you couldn’t tear your gaze away.

“Your smile makes flowers grow in my chest,” Yuta’s voice came from your side. You turned to see him wear a strained smile. Yuta’s huge eyes that were usually filled with kindness were taken over by something else— pain.

There was pain in his words and you hear the ache in his voice. His tone is hoarse, like his throat is unbelievably dry or irritated.

“I— I don’t know what to say.”

Everything was extremely overwhelming.

He shook his head to tell you that it was okay; he just needed to get the words off his chest. “It’s so beautiful and enchanting and it makes my heart clench and flowers take over my lungs.”

“Cherry blossoms,” you found yourself saying. You couldn’t believe this was happening. There were words you wanted to say but you were struggling to find them.

“Sakura,” he repeated in his native language.

“My favorite flowers.”

“Your favorite flowers.”

“You were never in love with flowers,” you stated, still in a state of shock.

Yuta released this low, almost bitter sounding chuckle that comes from deep within his chest. “Never.”

“Then, you’re in love with—”

“You.”

“—me.”

Just like the artist you admired, Yuta painted his way through his pain of loving you.

Nakamoto Yuta felt like he had been in love with you for the longest time. He had loved you before he could even muster the guts to let you know it, to invite you to this exhibit that displayed art dedicated to you.

He really hoped that you would show so he could take the chance to confess. Sure, you had promised but sometimes, people never intended to keep them. If he didn’t get it off his chest, he would never be able to breathe and Yuta desperately wanted to.

Yuta wanted to fill his lungs with breaths of fresh air and just breathe you in. That was all he longed for.

“Oh,” was all you could breathe out.

“It’s okay that you don’t feel the same,” Yuta tried to comfort you, getting the wrong idea from your lack of words. “I just needed to let you know.”

The sharpening ache that became so familiar to him was building up in his chest again, preparing him for the worst. Yuta swallowed thickly, already feeling the petals working their way to his mouth. His airways began restricting, his breaths growing more haggard by the second. He had so many things to say and he was determined to let it out before the petals escaped. The words spilled out his mouth, his lips running like a motor, “I used to be afraid of being in love and being happy with a person that I loved because it hurts.”

“Yuta—”

He stopped you with a lifted palm.

“Happiness never lasted with me, the flowers always ripped it away,” he explained, his trembling eyes focusing on your portrait and not the real person beside him.

“But then I met you and felt things I have never experienced before. So, I pushed my way through the pain just to be with you because I felt like I reached for the stars and touched the sky when we were together.”

His words brought tears to your eyes. You couldn’t believe someone would sit through the pain just to spend time with you nor thought you were worth it but here Yuta was, proving you wrong.

“There were times I wanted to beg you to love me, just so the hurting and the bleeding—just everything— could stop but I was too much of a coward and it led me to this.”

Here he was, pouring his heart out to you with his images and words, and you couldn’t let out a single noise. You forced yourself to move forward, to slip your hand into his. The sensation of your fingers intertwining with his brought Yuta out of his daze to look at you.

“Yuta,” you said with trembling lips. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.”

“It’s not your fault,” he replied with a sullen tone. You squeezed his palm and he gave you a light one in return. “If I don’t get this off my chest now, I’ll never be able to breathe and I really want to.”

“There’s no reason for you to lose your breath over me.” A sniffle escaped you and Yuta turned to see you crying. He bent down to wipe your tears away, his finger swiping against your skin ever so gently.

“Why are you crying?”

“Because you suffered because of me and you didn’t have to,” you shot back with a whimper.

“You couldn’t have known, it’s okay,” he tried to reassure you.

“No, no,” you interrupted him to his confusion. “It’s not that.”

Your voice was so soft under your quivers, he could barely hear you over the loud chattering of the other guests in the room. Yuta guided you just outside his exhibit to a bench and dried your eyes with the sleeve of his sweater.

“What’s wrong?”

Yuta’s question made you laugh through your tears and at all the time wasted. He had been in pain for so long because he was yearning for you just as you were for him. The mutual yet silent pining took you down this route and it could have been avoided if you had just stopped being a coward and spoken up like Sicheng pushed you to.

“There’s nothing wrong,” you said with the dismissing wave. You willed yourself to look him in the eyes and bring a hand to his cheek. “It’s just that I think I’ve been in love with you as long as you have been in love with me.”

Your confession caused him to freeze in his seat. His brown eyes were blown out wide and mouth dropping in shock. Giggling as more tears fell, you quickly slide the hand cupping his cheek down to his jaw to shut his mouth closed. Running a thumb against his lips, you felt his pulse quickening at your touch.

“You’re in love with me?” he asked, voice as gentle as the breeze. There was uncertainty and disbelief behind it. Yuta wanted to hear you say it again.

—🌸—

“I’ve been in love with you for a while now.” Your earnest words were music to his ears.

He felt this comforting rush take over this body and it sent tingles down his spine, traveling all the way to the tips of his fingers and toes. Your confession worked like magic, spelling him with this high that made him soar to the skies.

Yuta thought you were a witch, entrancing him with a love charm so strong that it brought instant relief to his pain. His heart was trying to fight its way out of his chest and the ache of his airways dulled. The muscle was pounding so loudly against his ribcage, he could hear it in his ears, and he swore you could hear it too.

His lips upturned into the biggest grin, he felt like his cheeks were about to burst.

Was this how a requited love felt? If it was, he never wanted to go without it again.

Yuta rushed to pull you in his arms and sighed when you nuzzled your head into his neck. He shivered when he felt them whisper the three words he longed to hear into his skin. His body shook with laughter as he placed a lingering kiss at the crown of your head, reveling at the feeling of you encased in his hold.

You tried to fight your way out of his grip but he only tightened his arms, not wanting to let you go. The action left you giggling into his neck, causing him to squirm until his hold loosened. Your hands trailed their way from his waist up to cup his face and suddenly, his eyes were locked onto yours. Just as you were getting lost in the deep sea of brown, his gaze flickered to your lips before looking back at you. His lips quirked up as you did the same.

He felt your breath hitch as he leaned in to slot his lips against yours and the overwhelming rush returned. It seemed like his heart was racing against time, beating erratically as you kissed him so tenderly. Your lips were so soft and they tasted like the vanilla flavoring of your color, leaving him to chase after you every time you pulled away for a breath.

Yuta fought the strain in his airways as he pursued your lips again and again, loving the way you felt and tasted. He picked up the smell of your cherry blossom shampoo and laughed into the kiss. The feeling of having you was so addicting— your love was his drug and he was forever hooked on you. He would devote himself to nothing else but you.

The sensation of Yuta kissing you and smiling against your lips sent you into overdrive. There were butterflies in your stomach, fireworks going off in your head, tingles down your spine and you loved it all.

In the past, you only noticed Nakamoto Yuta’s undying love and admiration for flowers but this was the first time you finally noticed his love for you and it was nothing short of wonderful.

It was the start of something new.

🌸 author’s note— that’s it! it came out a bit more angst than i intended, definitely lacked the fluff i was expecting but i’m still satisfied with the ending uwu i loved writing my little markie and kira in the fic, i’ve missed them! but yes!! that’s the end of my little bday present to myself! i hope y’all loved it! please leave some feedback; i would love to hear what you thought of it!! i think i literally fell in love with yuta while writing this.

🌸 taglist— @danishmiilk @hyunjins--laugh @littleflowercrown13 @orange-nimon-cross @radiorenjun @ncteaxhoe @chancrispy

#cznnet #neowritingsnet #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct fanfic #nct angst #nct x reader #nakamoto yuta #yuta #yuta x reader #yuta scenarios #yuta imagines #yuta fanfic #yuta fluff #yuta angst

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bimsha · 3 years

Text

Break The Rules (Kazutora x Reader)

(Kazutora Hanemiya x Reader)

Kazutora Hanemiya doesn’t like school. Like, no offense but sometimes he just needs a break from all the studies and the teachers who pile up an assignment after an assignment. He sighed, walking through the familiar stairs. After an hour-long lecture from their English teacher, he will never be ready for the Science period next. He walked up the familiar staircase. Sometimes, it was his happy place: the place where he will be when things get rough. Sometimes, when he just needed a break, he would go up the stairs and open the door to the cozy rooftop. The wind brushing through his hair. He just enjoyed the silence, the peace. He readjusted his bag and slung it over one of his shoulders reaching to the cold, metal doorknob. He was about to twist it to the side and escape to the warm summer breeze when his ears caught the sound of a guitar. Hanemiya stopped, tilting his head to the side, wondering.

To begin with, he ignored the sound, thinking it was all in his head. That’s when a tune started to catch his years. A soothing tune: slow and deep. It was somewhat confusing not knowing what he would meet from the other side of the door. Hanemiya wrapped one of his hands around the black stripe of his backpack and opened the door. It was all the same, just as he left yesterday evening. The summer breeze kissed his skin as he walked out. The bench in front of him was occupied. He had seen her before. A glimpse or two when they passed the hall. That was it. He didn’t know her name and he didn’t mind that either. It was a big school, you are not bound to learn anyone’s names after all. The girl didn’t look up when he stepped to the rooftop. Her eyes were focused on the guitar. Her finger smoothly plucked each string with ease producing the same lyrical, melodic music he heard before.

“Nice tune,” He said, unable to handle the silence only broken by the sound of the melody. She looked up, her dark eyes surprised by his sudden words. That’s when Hanemiya realized she had not even heard him enter. Quite the prey for a serial killer.

She narrowed her eyes, placing the guitar on her lap, “You’re skipping classes.”

No Hi. No, Who are you? Just stating facts. Hanemiya shrugged, “I can say the same for you.”

She rolled her eyes, readjusting the guitar, “I have music now. The teacher is absent. I’m practicing on my own.”

“Such a nerd” The male muttered under his breath, taking a seat beside her.

She didn’t react, instead, she ran her smooth fingers across the guitar strings. It was like she was creating her own magic with music. Hanemiya watches for few long seconds: “You know, your music is pretty good.”

She looked surprised, “Uh, thanks?”

He shrugged, leaning back. “It’s not that surprising to hear. I bet you get that all the time.”

She gave him a sideways glance, “Not really, you sure you aren’t going to get in trouble because of skipping class?”

She was trying to change the subject, Hanemiya realized. But he didn’t say anything. He, out of all people, knew that sometimes people needed a break. “I am trouble, girl.” He smirked.

She rolled her eyes, “Well, I guess I have heard about your troubles a lot” She said, making air quotes.

Hanemiya grinned, “Glad to know I’m pretty popular, Uhm…” He grimaced, she knows his name but he doesn’t.

“Y/n” She simply replied. Just as if someone who’s used to be forgotten. Like someone who didn’t care about being forgotten.

“Right,” Hanemiya said, rubbing his hands together.

“I don’t make trouble, so people don’t know me,” She said, standing up. Hanemiya raised an eyebrow as she opened her black guitar case and carefully placed the instrument inside. He watched her moves, carefully. From her care for the guitar, it was evident how much she loved music.

“Once in a while, everyone needs to be in trouble.” He said. He didn’t know why he felt that but today he didn’t feel like going back to classes at all. “Without that, life gets boring”

She slung the strap over her shoulder, “I’m the kind who lives a boring life. Excuse me.”

“Wanna break the rules with me? For today?”

She turned in surprise. Her eyes widen, her fingers tightly wrapped around the black strap. “Huh?”

He gave her a sheepish grin, pushing back one of his stray bangs from his face. “You don’t look like you want to go back at all. You can use a little excitement.”

She looked as if she’d reject and Hanemiya wouldn’t have been surprised. They barely knew each other and never have talked before. But something about her made him feel different. It was almost sad that she didn’t have any excitement, hope in those beautiful eyes. She is missing out on the best things in life. “I don’t trust you” She boldly stated, “But yeah, I don’t want to go back.”

A smile crept upon his lips, “Wanna go?”

She nodded hesitantly, “I hope we don’t end up in jail” She murmured. Hanemiya grinned, walking out of the rooftop with her.

“Honestly, I hope so too”

He looked over his shoulder to see whether his statement has shaken her. But her face betrayed no emotion except for the same plain look. He was going to put light into those eyes today. Sneaking out of school was not the hard part. Hanemiya had done it countless times. You just need to know the right hallways and turn from the right corners. Soon, both of them were standing outside of the school, facing the clear view of the road and Hanemiya started leading her to the alley beside.

Each step was conscious. You were ready to flee at any given moment as you followed him towards the alley. In the school, Hansemiya didn't have the best reputation, but there were worse guys, and all you wanted to do today was escape. On other days, you might’ve even rejected if he asked to snitch school and go out during school hours. But lately, you haven’t felt anything. Your only friend was your guitar and your music. You could use something else to drown your thoughts. Hanemiya told you to wait by as he walked deeper into the street. His figure losing in the shadows of the dark alley. You waited, looking around. The main street was nearly empty. All the people were working, all the students studying inside schools. You stared at a nearby stray puppy limping through the road when you heard the sound.

It was a surprise that caught your heart in a storm. There he was, in front of you with a black motorbike, designed thoroughly with dragon stickers. Honestly, you didn’t know much about them but the motorbike looked pretty cool. Hanemiya had changed his school uniform with a black jacket. He tossed you a helmet and grinned, “Let’s escape”

You looked at it unsurely, “You ain’t gonna wear one? Do you have the license for that thing? Are you going to kidnap me?”

He rolled his eyes, “I don’t kidnap girls in broad daylight. C’mon, who do you think I am?”

“A stranger” You replied putting on the helmet and tightening the strap making sure you won’t bust your head if you get into an accident. Looking at his balance and the familiarity he had, like the motorbike was his second personality, you didn’t doubt his skill to ride it.

“Don’t worry, get on. This buddy is my best friend” He said, giving you a sheepish look, patting the seat of the bike.

Something clicked inside your heart. You didn’t remember how many times you have called your guitar your best friend. For the first time, you looked at him a bit more closely. He doesn’t seem to be a person with many friends and behind the excitement of his eyes, there was a hint of sadness. It was barely there, but it existed. You got on behind him and held onto his jacket as he raced through the streets of Shibuya. The trees, cars, people passed you by a blur. Like a watercolor painting ruined by water. Still, there was a beauty in it. Ruined and broken things always had this beauty to them. You just had to look a little bit harder, you just have to be more careful and vigilant. Hanemiya took a sharp turn, breaking your thoughts. You yelped in surprise, holding onto him tightly as you closed your eyes. You could hear his chuckle at your surprise. “You know what is the best feeling in Biking?”

“What is it?” You raised your voice a little because you had to cut through the wind to speak to him.

“It’s escape, Y/n. When I bike, I feel free. No one can touch me. Everyone just passes by me so fast. Sometimes, I feel like I’m escaping to another universe. Just me, the wind and the sound of my friend. It’s a different feeling” Hanemiya tilted his head slightly, taking another turn. “And today, there’s another person sharing my universe, that’s you”

You could feel your cheeks heat up. It should be the rush of wind, you thought as he spoke again, “Quick advice, don’t close your eyes. Open them wide and see. This is freedom!” He yelled the last part, breaking into a peal of soft laughter.

You decided to give it a try. You sat up a little straighter still holding on tight for him. You tipped your chin back slightly, feeling the wind cutting through your face, the harsh wind was comfortable in a unique way. You stared at the blue sky, painted with white tufts of clouds. Everything seems to pass you by, just as he said. It felt like escape, freedom. “This is awesome” You blurted out, leaning against his back, talking against his ear that he might actually hear.

He nodded, “Told you so!”

When he finally stopped beside the grassy plain of the river, you felt a little at loss. You were almost at a zone while you were on that bike. It was like suddenly, all the thoughts inside your mind disappeared leaving you floating in your own dream world. A place where you felt belong. He parked his motorbike and told you to wait. Surely, a lot of waiting, you thought. You sat down by the grass, placing your guitar beside you, waiting for this boy who appeared into your life out of nowhere. “I’m back!” He chirped, jumping behind you.

You turned to see him, holding on two popsicles and the ever-growing grin on his face. “Summer is the time for ice cream,” He said, handing you one.

You unwrapped it and tasted the chocolate and the minty flavour. He was not eating it smoothly, or correctly, you noticed as you looked at him in surprise. He was practically chewing down the popsicle. You cringed, “How are you even-”

He turned with a quizzical look, “Oh, I like the ice cream cold?”

You blinked, “What are your grades? Honestly? Ice cream is supposed to be cold. That’s why you call it ice cream.”

He juts out his bottom lip, “I was just trying to give you a reason.”

You hummed, “Do you often do this? Skip school I mean.”

Hanemiya put away the wrapped and laid down on the river bank, shielding his eyes from the direct sunlight on his face. “When I think it’s too much to handle, I do”

You looked at him. His sandy eyes looked distant. Pale skin shadowed with the silhouette of his own hand. You saw it again, the lingering sadness like chains he could not escape. You wondered the reason behind that. Just maybe, there was no reason at all. It’s just the way it is. We’re all a little sad and broken. Even though others expect us to be perfect, we just can’t and that’s the truth for everyone. “Don’t you ever feel lonely? You’re alone when you’re riding, no one in your little universe. It’s just you.”

He turned to look at you, “Sometimes, but I liked loneliness. When I’m with myself, no one can hurt me. I like it.”

“And you hate it too” Your reply was instant. He blinked in surprise, then a small smile drew out of his lips. You understood it: the nature of loneliness.

“Yeah, I hate it too” His voice was open than before. It was like the boy beside you was starting to open up slowly. He knew she understood and she knew he did too. “I’ve shown you my freedom” He propped himself on elbows, “Can you show me yours?”

It took you a second to realize he was looking at the guitar case resting beside you. You ran your hand through the smooth black fabric before deciding, it was only fair you show your freedom too. You put down the wrapper and carefully took out the guitar. Your finger idly running through the strings, embracing the melodies and the beauty of the sound. Almost magical to your ears. It had always been like this. When you held your guitar, you’re in your own little world. A parallel universe you made for yourself just as Hanemiya said. Your fingers ran through the strings with great familiarity. The melody was soothing for your ears. Your music spoke the words you couldn’t say. It was your outlet. Your way of telling the world that you’re lonely. There’s no beauty in sadness. That’s why your melodies always spoke the plain truth. The truth to your heart, to your soul. “Miya,” You said, turning to him after you finish one song. “This is my freedom. My way of escape.”

He nodded, “I like the nickname”

You flushed, “I’m sorry! I didn’t realize-”

He shook his head hushing you, “You were in the zone. Your music, it’s so beautiful Y/n. I love how it speaks raw and plain truth.” He turned to the river flowing in front of you, “And your eyes shine when you play. Like you have found the excitement” He smiled, “Your happy place”

The smile on your face was effortless, “Like you with your bike.”

“You know it!”

You two shared your ideas and talked with each other. You found comfort in his words as you had never found before. You had never known what it felt like to meet a person who understands. Understand the chaos in your soul. The deepness in your mind. You started to play another song. This time, the melody was a bit hype, because you’re happy. He dropped his head into your shoulder, relaxing. You stopped playing for a minute, unsure of your next move when he sleepily murmured, “Keep playing.”

So, you did. You didn’t know what this was. A boy sleeping beside you, soothed by your music. A boy who understood you’re not perfect and not supposed to be. A boy who showed you his world while you showed him yours. You didn’t know what to call this feeling, so you played it on the guitar. The feeling of butterflies. The feeling of belonging.

After few hours, you two finally decided it was time to leave. There was something you were holding back, the reason for you to be so down the whole day. “Y/n?” He asked, seeing you spacing out. “Are you okay?”

“It’s my birthday, you know” You weren’t looking at his face. You were staring at the river. There was a reason you loved rivers, no matter the challenges they never stop. “No one remembered. I didn’t expect them to. It would be nice if someone did” You scratched the back of your head, “Sorry, that was dumb”

You heard his footsteps before you saw his face right in front of you. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner!?”

You shrugged, “You used to be a stranger a few seconds ago”

He took a step back and pulled out his wallet, surprising you. He frowned, his face drawing into a deeply thinking expression. “Oi,” You said, “What’s that look for?”

He pouted, “It’s just I don’t have enough money to buy you anything.” He looks as if the gods have decided to send him to hell.

“I don’t need anything” You flushed, “I just told you because-”

He cut you off, wrapping one of his arms around you pulling you into a tight hug. You stiffened for a moment, before finally hugging back, pressing your face onto his leather jacket. “There’s something I can still give you” His voice was muffled. The two of you pulled away and stared at each other for a second. You didn’t guess his next action. Didn’t see it coming either. He brushed his lips against your own. The tiniest speck. The softest intimacy. “Happy Birthday, Y/n. Next year, I’m gonna make it special, I promise”

You closed your eyes for a second, “So, you’re going to kidnap me next year too?”

Hanemiya ruffled your hair, “Yeah, I’m gonna kidnap you from the rooftop next year too.”

You didn’t know why, but you trusted him when he said he’ll remember. “I’ll be waiting.”

“For a hot biker to kidnap you? Geez, Y/n, your imagination is sure wild” He teased, laughing.

“Not just any biker, the dork named Miya is the only one” You shot back, it was his time to flush.

“I didn’t know you had it in you,” He said, exaggerating his surprise as he clutched his heart dramatically.

“I always had it in me, the other people were not keen enough to draw out this side.” You flipped your hair, imitating his dramatic actions.

“What is this? A teen drama?” He huffed, slipping his hand to yours. His long slender fingers fitting right in yours. You both stared at the river for one last time before getting on the bike.

You never held someone so close in your life. It was like no one understood you, and never accepted you for who you are. You were insecure about your flaws, about those imperfections. But he made you feel right. He made you realize it’s okay to be imperfect. He found the meaning behind your music and saw right through you. Kazutora Hanemiya: a boy who knew about the art of loneliness. Who went behind the things he loved to make himself feel something. The only person who understood you. Walking with him, your hands intertwined. You realized how lucky you stumbled into him. How lucky you agreed to break the rules with him. Every second, every minute was worth it.

Happy Birthday to one of the loveliest people in the whole world! I love you Oya! Have a great birthday sweetheart! ❤❤❤❤❤❤

#tokyo revengers #x reader #kazutora hanemiya #kazutora x reader #happy birthday oya #i love you #fluff #birthday fic #you are amazing #x female reader

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marshmallow-phd · 4 years

Text

Healing Touch

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Wolf!AU

Pairing: Yixing x Reader

Summary: Medical school abroad was the last line on your to-do list before starting the rest of your life. Everything was going according to plan. Everything, that is, until tragedy strikes your campus. In the wake of a professor’s untimely death, you’re partnered with the cute boy with a breathtaking smile in the newly combined labs. You find yourself unable to resist the dimples and shy glances, but his life is here with no plans of leaving. Will you continue on as planned or will you accept the hand that Fate had dealt you?

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I Final

The door to the bathroom slammed behind Yixing as he plastered his back against the cinderblock wall. The bathroom was empty, thank goodness. His heart was pounding, beating in rhythm to the pawing of the wolf. It growled at him to go back, to find you and claim you. He fought against it. Barely.

All this time you had been here, on this campus, and he never even knew it. How many times had he come close to almost running into you? Almost had a class with you? How many times had he walked into the student union or a lab or any other classroom and missed you by mere seconds? Having met you now, under these circumstances – it almost felt like Fate was taunting him.

Sliding down to the floor, Yixing let his head fall back against the paint-flaking stone. A small smirk tugged at his mouth. He’d found you. Like a flower blooming for the first time… you were beautiful. Your smiles had been small but stunning. When your hair fell like a waterfall hiding your face, his fingers twitched to push it behind your ear. Yixing had found girls pretty before, but you – you were fascinating. Like seeing a close up picture of a new planet a million lightyears away for the first time. As quiet as you were, he was determined to flip over the stones and discover what lied underneath.

Elation soon gave way to worry, though. Now that the first step was done, he had to proceed with caution. He didn’t want to scare you off or come on too strong. Knowing himself, he could get too excited and push you too far before you were ready.

And then there were the headaches. And the lost time. He needed to find the cause of it. He needed to understand what was happening to him. Because the last thing he would want is to hurt you.

Pushing himself back up to his feet, he went over to the sink and turn the cold water on blast. He cupped some of the water in his palm and cooled off heat radiating from his neck. Icy droplets rolled down his back and over his shoulders. It helped, sparingly. He gave a single glance in the mirror before turning off the water and walking out of the bathroom.

He knew that going to his next class would be a useless action. Paying attention was out of the question. There were ways that he could catch up in his spare time. Right now, he needed to be in a place where he was both surrounded by people (to keep himself in check), and yet alone for his thoughts. So, he headed for the student union. The buzzing of a hundred conversations hit him as soon as he stepped through the doors. None of them were clear, too intermixed to be deciphered. Perfect. Now he just need to find an empty table in a corner and-

“Hey, Yixing!”

Yixing blinked, searching around for the one who had called his name.

Baekhyun was standing up in his seat, waving an arm back and forth to get Yixing’s attention. The latter sighed. Maybe this was better. Maybe being alone wasn’t a good idea after all.

Sitting with Baekyun was Chanyeol, Jongin, Sehun, and Kyungsoo. Jongdae, Yixing knew, was in class. However, Minseok was usually with them. He must have been somewhere off with his mate. A quick surge of jealous struck through Yixing’s veins, but he tampered it down quickly. Soon enough he would be there, too. Soon enough.

Careful to keep his face as neutral as his facial muscles would allow, Yixing headed over to the others, dragging a free chair over from a nearby table.

“Playing hooky?” Baekhyun teased.

“Just didn’t feel like going to class.” It wasn’t a complete lie. Nor the complete truth. The statement fell somewhere in the middle. Like most things he said these days.

“Are you sweating, hyung?” Sehun asked from the other side of the table.

Chanyeol sniffed several times. “You still smell like your body wash. Is everything okay?”

Jongin pointed at him. “Your collar’s wet.”

Yixing shifted in his seat. Was it too early to tell them? Was it news that he should share with Junmyeon first? He knew he would end up going to Minseok at some point. Who better to go with for advice than the one person who’s lived through it already? Maybe even Ji Yeon might have a few words of wisdom for him. All five of his brothers were staring at him, waiting for an explanation, fictitious or otherwise, for this out-of-character behavior.

“She’s in my new class.”

“Who is?” Chanyeol asked.

Yixing didn’t reply right away. The words were sticking to the tip of his tongue like fly paper. Maybe he should just say “never mind” and go on with his day. This wasn’t the right setting to share this information. He shouldn’t have said anything. He should have waited until he got back to the farmhouse. He should have discussed this with Junmyeon and Minseok first. As much as he loved Baekhyun, he had a feeling this news would get back to the rest of the pack before he had a chance to tell them himself. Would Jongdae start to avoid him, too?

Before he had a chance to backtrack, Kyungsoo caught on. “Ah. You mean, her, don’t you?”

Yixing swallowed, the muscles in his throat contracting, making the motion difficult. Slowly, almost like a fishing bobber in the water, he nodded.

Letting out an exasperated scoff, Baekhyun hunched down in his seat. “This feels way too fast. I thought we would have time after Minseok until the next one.” He straightened up before leaning in close to Yixing. “Are you sure it’s your mate? Are you sure you just don’t think she’s really pretty?”

Yixing shook his head. “Minseok is right. The feeling is different. And immediate. It’s her.”

“Well, better you than me.”

“But think of the nice excuse it would give you to break up with Daisy?” Chanyeol teased.

“Who said I wanted to break up with her?”

“You did,” Kyungsoo deadpanned. “Last night.”

Baekhyun feigned being taken aback. “W-well, that was last night. I changed my mind. This morning.”

“I hope your mate gives you hell,”Jongin laughed. He turned to Yixing. “Is she pretty?”

Yixing didn’t dare fight the grin spreading across his face. He nodded eagerly. “Yes. Very. Very pretty.”

“So, you gonna tell Junmyeon?” Baekhyun asked.

“Of course. I will tonight. Back at the house.”

“At least we’ll get to see this play out more. I feel like we missed the good stuff with Minseok.”

“It’s not a movie for your entertainment,” Kyungsoo scolded.

Baekhyun simply shrugged, turning his attention back to the food in front of him. He’d gotten his teasing out of the way. Oddly enough, Yixing was feeling a little lighter. He hadn’t kept the secret long at all, but that was what a pack was for. They were there to keep you steady and to lean on when things grew tough. He could go to them for advice – well, some of them. Others were good for a laugh and help ease any weight that was baring him down. Each member had his strength, for which he was grateful. Three additional faces appeared, stopping him for a moment. But then Baekhyun started imitated one of his professors and Yixing was pulled away from the past and back to the present.

However, even as he smiled and laughed along with the others, one thing refused to leave him: Would you be safe? With his current… predicament, he worried about you. If anything were to happen to you – especially because of him – he would never be able to forgive himself.

Silently, he vowed that he would put an end to this rogue wolf – no matter who it was.

Perhaps walking wasn’t the best idea at the moment. It was chillier today; a cold front having moved in from somewhere out west overnight. The jacket you wore was thin, the wind sliding through the threads with more ease than water through a drain. But it seemed silly to take the bus with such a short distance between your apartment and the university campus. Certainly not worth the anxiety it would create.

Yes. It was good to walk. Good to get the exercise. And by the time you make it to the courtyard, you would be used to the cold. For now, you zipped the closure up to your chin and tucked your arms in as close to your chest as possible.

The campus felt like a ghost town when you arrived. Most of the students were taking refuge in the buildings, hiding from the wind between the walls decorated with tutoring flyers and motivational posters. Part of you thought to maybe do the same, to cut through the buildings to get a relief from the depressing weather, but that would take you longer. None of the buildings were straight shots. You could endure it. Or else, you could end up as another frozen statue on the grounds that would occasionally get covered in toilet paper or streamers by pranking students. At least you would actually look like something if that were to happen. Most of the artwork was of the abstract kind.

Not that that was a bad thing. Most of it was quite interesting. But it gave you a headache, turning and twisting your head to look at the statue from a new angle, the picture changing each time. You preferred less complicated, more obvious art. Old portraits or watercolor landscapes were the sections of the art museum you spent the majority of your time in. It didn’t need to be complicated to be art, in your opinion. Every new artist was trying to “say something”, which was fine. It was their art and they were allowed to do with it as they saw fit. You were just the kind of boring person who liked a pretty picture, no added thinking required.

Yes. Boring, indeed.

“(y/n)!”

You stopped walking, confused as to who could be calling your name. Glancing over your shoulder, you saw the new boy from your human physiology class – Yixing. He was jogging up to you, cutting through the grass, not caring if the canvas fabric of his Converse ended up soaked. He was huffing only the slightest bit when he came to a stop beside you. The tiny corners of his lips were slightly turned upward. You’d only met him a few days ago. How could he be seemingly elated to see you?

“Hi.”

He wasn’t the least bit discouraged by your steely reception. “Are you on your way to class?” He pointed in the direction of the science building. You nodded. Lying would make you have to take a weird, long way to the classroom and even then, you couldn’t guarantee that he wouldn’t see you in the hall. Besides, after your first class you would be seeing him again, at the same table. “Can I walk with you?”

Those five little words sent a surge through your brain, frying the motherboard and sending you into disfunction. Why did he want to walk with you? Pound, pound, pound your heart was going in your ears. He was smiling broader now as he waited for your answer. Surely, there were better available options in girls to walk to class.

“Why?”

Your hand nearly snapped up to your forehead. Where! ‘Where is your class’ was the question you were meaning to ask. But your brain was too focused on why he was asking you that the signals got crossed somewhere and the wrong thing came out.

The smile faded. “Oh, um… I just saw you and thought that maybe if we were headed in the same direction….” He cringed, his hand reaching behind his head to scratch nervously at his scalp.

“Sure,” you said without giving yourself a prior warning.

The smile snapped back into place. “Okay. Great.”

Neither of you moved. You were sure that part of the idea of “walking to class together” included actually moving your feet, but you didn’t start heading towards the building. Yixing didn’t budge either. He kept smiling at you.

A sudden burst of icy wind picked up. The gust bit right through your jacket, causing you to shiver somewhat violently. Your teeth were still chattering even as it died down again.

“Are you cold?” Yixing asked worriedly.

“No, I’m fi-”

He ignored you as he slipped his bag off his shoulders and removed his much heavier bomber jacket. He draped the jacket over your shoulders and replaced his bag. Now he was left in only a black T-shirt, but he seemed unaffected by the cold. Not even goosebumps gave away if he was uncomfortable or not. “I hope that’s better.”

You were hit with an overwhelming pine scent. Normally you hated the smell. It reminded you of those old car air fresheners that would hang from the rearview mirror. But this particular type… it was a struggle not to breathe in deeper. You didn’t want to come off as weird.

Or, weirder that you already were.

“Thanks,” you said shyly, unable to meet his eye. “We, um, we should probably start… walking.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re right.”

The two of you finally headed for the science building. You each stepped in rhythm with the other, falling into the pattern with such a natural ease that it made you curious. Your nerves were on high alert around him, but not in a way that made you scared of him. Not the “he’s going to kill me” kind of nervous. Just… on edge. You weren’t sure why he was interested in you – whether platonically or something else, you hadn’t figured out yet. You weren’t the typical college student in your experiences. Anxiety over social gatherings tended to limit your outings. Not that you minded. You needed to keep up the good grades to get into the university you wanted and the extra time spent studying helped. Your family was your main social outlet, but you didn’t see anything wrong with that.

The bad thing was, you knew how your family reacted and came to decisions in most cases. That sense of familiarity was lost when it came to other people, so you never were quite sure how to read them.

“What’s your first class?” Yixing asked as the building came into view.

“Organic chemistry,” you replied. Not your best subject, if you had to admit it. Biology was more your strong suit. “What about you?”

Yes. Good counter question. A natural one to ask. Right?

A dusty pink bloomed on his cheeks. “Psychology.”

You frowned. Those classes weren’t held in the science building. Those types of classes were the rest of the therapeutic college – several buildings away. Pointing to the doors that the two of you were now stopped in front of, you said, “Then why-”

“I saw you and wanted to say hi.”

Okay, like stated earlier, you weren’t the best at reading strangers. But you could almost feel your aunt nudging you with her shoulder in her cheeky fashion. And you would have to agree with her, it did feel like there was an air of flirtation underneath the innocent sentence.

“You wanted to say ‘hi’?” you repeated

He scrunched up his shoulders guilty. “Yeah. I thought that – since we’re going to be partners for the rest of the semester – that it wouldn’t hurt to get to know each other?” His eyes flickered down to the cement and then back up at you. “Is that alright?”

That simple movement made your heart flutter. “I guess so.”

Not the exact answer he was hoping for, judging by his reaction. He released his breath through his nose and nodded, his lips puckering a small amount. “Okay. I’ll see you in class.” You weren’t given a chance to respond before he stepped around you and headed off.

Now you were the one who felt guilty.

All through class, you struggled to absorb the material more than usual. You felt like a jerk to someone who was only trying to be nice.

No. Nice wasn’t the right word to use. Polite seemed too small a word as well. His interest in getting to know you seemed genuine, sincere. You were the one quick to pull away. You couldn’t help it. And you had immediately regretted it, wishing you could rewind and try a different response. Yixing made you more nervous that usual, which only overloaded your brain even more.

By the end of class, you’d settled on apologizing. You’d practice the speech over and over again in your mind to make sure that it made sense and conveyed what you were sorry for. And hopefully didn’t create a bigger mess.

Since you were right around the corner, you made it to human physiology early. You took your time taking out your supplies and lined them up on your side of the table. Every few seconds your eyes would flicker to the door in eager anticipation. The students who flowed in were never him. Oh. Goodness. Had you made him so upset that he’d decided to skip class altogether rather than sit next to you?

That fear subsided when you saw him walk into view of the open door. A shorter boy was with him. They were chatting in a friendly manner in the hallway, smiling and laughing occasionally. Yixing didn’t seem to still be upset from your earlier send off.

The shorter one, wearing a backwards cap and t-shirt despite the cold (were males really that immune to dropping temperatures?), glanced into the classroom and made eye contact with you. He whispered something to Yixing, who in turn snuck a peek of his own. He nodded to the shorter boy. The latter nodded as well. He patted Yixing on the shoulder and then left.

Oh, wonderful. Now what had you done?

Your entire speech went diving out the window as Yixing walked into classroom and sat down in his seat.

“Hey,” he greeted, throwing you off even more with a smile.

You lifted your hand and gave a rather pathetic wave. “Hi.”

“Did you have fun in chemistry?” he asked. Everything about his mannerisms reflected his earlier legitimate interest. It was almost as if the parting earlier had only been a bad dream in your head and instead had ended amicably, with no signs of awkwardness.

You were starting to relax. That was another odd thing about Yixing. Though your nervous system was on the fritz, you also felt at ease, almost. Already, you were finding appropriate and - dare you say - charming responses to his inquires and jests. “As much fun as one can with unstable molecules.”

“Better the molecules be unstable rather than the professor.”

You laughed, using your hand to cover the sound and wide mouthed expression that came along with it. Yixing dipped his head to hide a proud grin of his own. The professor walked in at that moment. You scolded yourself for not going through your speech before class had started. Yixing had distracted you. It might feel as needed now, but you still felt the urge to say the words.

And that distraction was continuing on through the period.

He wasn’t doing anything in particular, besides simply existing. Occasionally while taking notes or flipping the pages of the textbook, his elbow would bump into yours. You would mouth “sorry” before dropping your eyes down to the paper. He never looked like he was annoyed or bothered by it. At one point, you wondered if he was doing it on purpose.

Like the last time, Professor Jiang assigned the review questions at the end of the chapter to be completed during the final fifteen minutes. It took you almost that entire time to figure out the answers. You had to keep flipping back through the chapter and skim the passages to find them. You were definitely going to have to make a note to review this later if any of it was going to stick.

“Are you done?” Yixing asked once he saw that your pencil was down.

“Yeah.” Your confidence in your answers wasn’t as high as last time. To your surprise, though, your answers were more or less the same as Yixing’s. Maybe something did get absorbed during the lecture.

Taking your paper, he shuffled it on top of his to show you that he would once again turn it in for you. A pattern was beginning to form, but you didn’t want to read into it too deeply.

Okay. It was now or never. Although, you’d forgotten large chunks of your speech, you were going to go through with it.

“Yixing?” You barely made it above a whisper, but he heard you anyway.

“Hm?”

“I just wanted to say that I was sorry. About earlier. I didn’t mean to make it look like I was trying to be rude or that I wasn’t appreciative of your….” You lost the word you were going to say. The others that you grasped on to made you cringe. Niceness? Politeness? Pity? Thankfully, Yixing didn’t need you to finish.

“It’s alright. I’m not upset. I realize that I might have come on too strongly.”

“No, no, you didn’t.”

“No, I’m sure I did. Next time, if you like walking alone, you can tell me to go away.”

You didn’t like the idea of telling him to go away. You actually kind of liked him walking you to class, now that you’d had time to reflect back on it. The gesture gave you the same vibe that teen romances had given you in high school; a strange fluttering that usually only existed in daydreams.

You weren’t sure how to respond, so you gave a silent reply in the form of a small smile. Yixing took it as a good sign like you meant it to be. Then you remembered the piece of clothing you still had of his. You started to sleep out of the sleeves, but Yixing stopped you.

“Keep it. It’s not going to get any warmer today.”

You could feel your face exploding with heat. What did that mean, exactly? Obviously, you understood the direct context, but was there another meaning behind his kind intention? Whispers erupted behind you before you could really think it through. You peeked over your shoulder to see two girls staring at you as they spoke softly to each other. Their volume was too low for you to make out what they were saying, but their eyes said enough. A few flickers toward Yixing and it was easy to interpret: they were trying to figure out why someone like him was acting this way towards you.

Curious as to what had stolen your attention, Yixing looked back at the girls as well. At their continued whispering, he narrowed his eyes and then shifted his stool closer to you. It felt… protective, almost possessive. Not in a way that made you want to lean away. It was more like he was silently standing up for you. The girls immediately snapped their mouths closed and pulled out their phones. Yixing caught your eye one more time, making you smile. Professor Jiang called time on the period and you found yourself very unwilling to move from that spot. And, it seemed, neither was Yixing.

Yixing ran through the trees with pure giddiness and elation flowing through his fur.

Things couldn’t have gone better this past week and a half. You were opening up to him more, talking to him without long pauses in between and letting him walk you to classes, even if they were in the opposite direction of his own. You hadn’t given him his jacket back, but he took that as a wonderful thing. He wouldn’t have taken it back anyway. There were still things that you were holding onto, things that you hadn’t let slip in your conversations. That hardly deterred him. It would take time. These things didn’t just happen. Eventually you would let him in all the way and he would show you his true self. It was only a matter of-

Yixing stopped. Out of nowhere, his vision had blurred, blackspots covering bits of the forest. He wavered from side to side as he tried to regain his footing. The tree shifted back and forth like a teeter-totter. He pushed himself forward. He needed to get back to the house. But only a few steps and his head exploded with pain. He whimpered and, after a minute or so, he fell to the ground and the blackness took over.

#exo #exo wolf au #exo wolf!au #yixing x reader #zhang yixing #lay #exo x fem!reader #exo werewolf au #exo werewolf!au #exo college au #exo college!au #exo supernatural au #exo series #exo fanfic #exo fanfiction #The Untamed Universe #Healing Touch

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sunnysviolin · 3 years

Text

Broken Melody

Haha made myself sad......like actually really sad. Anwayyyyy yeah here you go. Why did I call it this? I just...yeah I was listening to Stand by Me, and it made me emotional (It’s the Darby Walker version if any of you actually listen to my music mindscapes lol) I discussed this with my bestie, and I have a ton more that can go into this, but this is just the start. uhhh TW: Death

Hero was born in a flash of fireworks all around the world. He is born as one year turns the next, not even a full five minutes after the clock struck midnight.

He is born exactly on his due date, already punctual, a quiet sweet babe that gives one perfunctory cry and settles against his mother. On the back of his tiny right hand is a cluster of curling wavy music notes, all a soft grey. He was born before his soulmate. He doesn’t have to wait long, exactly three months later the colors fade in- soft purples and blues. Coincidentally their next door neighbor had her baby the same day.

When they take over a gift to meet Mari a month later, both sets of parents know it’s not quite a coincidence. It’s fate.

He doesn’t remember their first meeting, but his mother says he laughed loud and long and Mari squealed in joy merely at the sight of one another. Soulmates were confirmed by first touch, but apparently the two of them hadn’t needed it. They had been inseparable, unable to communicate, but knowing that together they were whole

When their mothers had tried to separate them, both infants wailed and wept. They had apparently had to wait until the two were deep in sleep before his mother could pick him up to bring him home. To Hero, there’s never been a day without Mari’s presence.

In the mornings she is either the first thing he feels, or he gets the joy of sensing her come alive and the lackadaisical burn of her morning stretches. At night she is the last thing he thinks of, a quiet warmth on his hand, holding it as he drifts away, the press of phantom fingers settling him into quiet dreams.

Finding your soulmate this early is almost unheard of. It’s rarer than rare, but to the two of them it’s just their life. It’s all they know. They’re aware they’re lucky, and everything is good. No one around them has ever seen such a strong bond. Most of the time the two of them don’t even need words, just side glances and a shared energetic connection.

Mari loves to say that she knows Hero ‘like the back of her hand’, a joke that inspires more groans than laughs. Hero tolerates it and every time gives her a kiss over his mark on her. Their love burns bright and long, cool colored music notes lighting a soft fire under their skin. When he’s thinking in class, he can’t help but run his fingers across the mark, when she’s studying, she leans her head against it.

There is no secrets between them, nothing hidden. It wouldn’t be possible to hide anything, not with a connection like that. Not with what they have. Until there is a secret between them. Something Hero had somehow missed.

Hero is the first person to know Mari died. Before Sunny’s mind caught up with his body and he rushed down the stairs. Before Basil ran forward to stand beside his best friend. Before Mari was even fully gone. Hero knew.

He and Kel had been laughing at silly ties. Kel was trying to convince him to wear something exceptionally stupid to his beloved’s recital, and Hero can’t help but indulge his little brother’s antics. They’re holding ties up to his chest and giggling when there’s a rush of unfamiliar anger in Hero’s chest. He pulls away from Kel, and he presses two fingers to his mark.

Nothing. No response from Mari. Strange. Wrong. He presses again, the swooping feeling in his stomach growing. He waits. Nothing. Kel looks at him and asks what’s wrong. His parents stop their chat.

Nothing. Just righteous anger.

He’s never felt anything like this from his girl. She’s been angry plenty, she’s been sad, she’s been petulant. With a bond like theirs, he knows all of her different emotions, good and bad. But this is...overwhelming.

Hero sits down on a nearby stool and stares down at his mark, his mind whispering something is Wrong. A momentary shock, a stabbing mirage of pain in his neck that makes his hands fly up to his throat as he chokes on nothing, and then emptiness. He had thought he felt nothing before but he was wrong. This was truly nothing.

Hero flies past panic and straight into shock. His parents are walking forward, and Kel is standing next to him calling his name, but Hero can’t hear. He lets his hands slowly release from where they had been clutching his neck and looks down.

His soulmark is black. Mari’s music notes, which had faded in and out of color in a watercolor ombre that reminded him of her piano playing, are black. Hero thought he knew what a black soulmark meant. It meant your soulmate died. That had always just been a fact. Black meant they were gone. Black was something to be sad about.

Hero wasn’t sad. Hero was confused. Nothing had prepared him for the reality, the ripped jagged edges of half of him being torn brutally away. He couldn’t understand it. Where were her colors? Her pretty purples to match his deep blues? Where was his girl? He couldn’t feel her, not even the anger which had come on so suddenly. He had never not felt her before.

His father is on the phone, talking frantically with someone, and his mother is holding his head against her chest, petting his hair over and over. He supposes she’s trying to comfort him. He can’t feel anything. He’s pretty sure he just died. He tries breathing, and he can, but it doesn’t feel like it works. He tries again, to the same effect. Hero out of the blue wonders if he will ever feel a real breath again. Maybe not.

They get in the car and race out of the store. His father speeds, and his mother is saying something. He and Kel sit silently in the back, Kel staring at him with wide eyes. Hero can only look down at the black notes on the back of his hand. He hasn’t tried touching them, not yet. He doesn’t know if he ever will. Maybe if he doesn’t this won’t be real. They won’t actually be there.

They get home to pandemonium. Police cars and ambulances and the eerie sound of Mari’s mother wailing as her father shouted elaborate curses at the officer’s holding him back. Hero’s father parks haphazardly in front of their house, and they all get out.

Their parents send them into their own house with strict instructions to stay in the living room. Then they go to see if there’s anything they could do to help. Hero could have told them there wasn’t, but it wouldn’t really matter.

Hero sits Kel on the couch and tells him not to move. Then he walks into their backyard. He walks in a daze out the door, past the patio that he and Mari liked to do their homework on in the Spring, towards the fence he and Mari peered at each other over sometimes when they felt like being silly.

He would peer over now, and she would be looking back at him. His marks would go back to the way they were meant to be, and everything would be okay. She would be there in the pretty white dress she had chosen as her outfit for the night, the same dress he was choosing a tie to match to. She would smile and call him silly, and tell him that she knew him like the back of her hand and he knew her just as well. That she would never leave him, not ever. Hero stands on his tip toes and looks.

She’s under their favorite tree. Her toes don’t touch the ground. She’s in her pretty white dress. It is stained red. His girl is under their tree. Her arms hang limply by her sides as she sways in the wind of the October night. Her music notes are black.

Hero already knew he had died right alongside Mari, but now he’s sure.

#There's defintiely more I could do with this #anywayyyy #i made myself sad #they're sad #everything is sad #omori #omori headcanons #omori fic #omori au #soulmate au #omori hero #omori mari #omori kel #heromari #omori kel's parents #tw: death

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awxward · 3 years

Text

A3! Boys + My Stuffed Animals

Spring Troupe:

Sakuya

Gabriel

Gabriel is a small elephant with big ears that constantly make him fall over. He has a pink bowtie that says 'I Love You'

Makes Saku feel safe and Gabriel is a reminder to himself that he's loved and appreciated by everyone at Mankai.

Named after a friend from theatre class :)

Masumi

George Washington

George Washington is a tiger. He is small, but his arms are like those slap bracelets so you can wear him on your wrist (or let him hang on the side of shelf like I do).

So I got Georgy-Boy for easter 2020. i asked my friends for name ideas. They sent me stuff like 'Stripes'. I went offline for a few minutes and when I came back online I told my friends his name was George Washington.

//////////

Me: tiger has a name now

Friend: which name did you choose?

Me: his name is George Washington.

Friend: what the fuck. how'd you get George Washington?

//////////

Pretty sure he got the name bc I was listening to the Hamilton soundtrack.

Citron

Daniel

Daniel is mostly pink but has other pastel colors that look like watercolors. He's a unicorn. And a ketchain. And he's one of those dream lites, so he lights up. (He's supposed too anyway, but he's never lit up since i got him like 7 years ago at a yard sale).

Named after Daniel Howell (formerly danisnotonfire) [YouTube]

Tsuzuru

Lucifer

Lucifer is a small panda pillow pet. Very easy to travel with bc he fits in most backpacks.

My mom told me she wanted me to have a stuffed animal with a biblical name, i picked him up, looked her in the eye and said "His name is Lucifer." My mom tried to protest. "You said a biblical name, Mom. Lucifer is in the bible."

Itaru

Pao(???)

Pao is a panda. They are also a phone holder thingy. Like it'll hold your phone if you're watching movies or whatever.

Like 5-ish years old. Got them from a friend. They have a tag with their name on it, but I read it once and then just called them "the panda" for some reason instead of their actual name and now the tag is too faded to read the name, but i am 38% sure it says Pao or something close to that.

Chikage

Tsuki

Tsuki is a dinosaur. Tsuki is a sparkly dino. He's green rn, but if you brush your hand over him, the sparkles turn over and he becomes orange. I like green tho bc his tummy and the bottom of his feet are orange and so are his eyes.

Named after Tsukishima Kei (Haikyuu)

Summer Troupe:

Tenma

Hinata

Hinata is a narwhal. A bright orange narwhal. Infact he is the same color as Tenma's hair.

Named after Hinata Shoyo (Haikyuu) [bc its the same color as his hair. there is a theme with this narwhal and the anime boys i associate with them]

Yuki

Steve

Steve is a regular teddy bear, except he has a shirt that has pikachu on it. (the shirt was originally Tsuki's bc i got tsuki at a friends build a bear bday party, but it fits Steve better)

I just think Yuki would try new designs/color schemes/styles by making clothes for Steve to see how they look.

I got Steve from a claw machine (my bf at time won him for me just before we watched Endgame together.)

Named after Steve Rogers (Marvel)

Muku

Eeyore

Muku most definitely loves the Winnie the Pooh movies and I will fite for this hc. He gets my Eeyore. You know how Eeyore's tail is always going missing or falling off??? Eeyore's tail comes off (velcro) but its attached to his actual body with a string so it cant be misplaced.

Eeyore has a patch that says "official disney store" but i got him for $3 at a thrift store.

Misumi

Sherlock

Sherlock is a polar bear. Sherlock is very huggable. He makes Misumi feel safe. He has a hat and scarf (that don't come off. they are sewn on him)

the hat has a pom pom on top and the scarf has a pom pom on each end. the hat and scarf and the bottom of his feet have a blue/white plaid pattern.

Kazunari

Victor

Victor is a puppy and the first big stuffed animal of mine on the list! He's all tan and abt maybe 3-4 ft long. Victor lays pretty flat so he's comfy to lay/sit on. I think Kazu would like sitting or laying on him when drawing. Probably has him on his bed so he's like a giant pillow.

Victor is from Toys R Us. I got him last August-ish from my Aunt and Uncle who found him at a thrift store and thought I'd like him.

Named after Victor Nikiforov (Yuri On Ice)

Kumon

PJ is a small white tiger. He is also a ball. He can fit in one hand. When Kumon is thinking or stressed or bored (etc) he just lays on his back and tosses PJ up into the air.

When Kumon is laying on the floor tossing PJ, Misumi sits on the bed closest to where PJ is and tries to grab him (but only if Kumon is in a good mood and okay with it) It's a fun little game they made up they like to play.

Pretty sure he was named after KickthePJ (YouTube)

liber pls give us a pic with all of autumn i am begging

Autumn Troupe:

Banri

Sammy

Sammy is another one of my large stuffed animals. He is also a puppy, but unlike Victor he is sitting instead of laying. He's abt 2-3 ft tall. His fur is the same color as Banri's hair. Great to squeeze at anytime, but very therapeutic when you're in a bad mood. Has a heart on his ear.

i got him abt 7 years ago. I had just finished spn season 2 and was upset abt the finale and had no way to start season 3.

Named after Sam Winchester

Juza

Tiggs

Tiggs is a beanie baby tiger. Tiggs is a little larger than PJ (and not a ball). He's a regular orange tiger instead of a white tiger like PJ. He'd buy Kumon PJ so they could have matching stuffed animals. Small and very comforting to just hold/hug.

Omi

Benedict (Ben)

Benedict, also known as Ben, is a small koala. Just a little bigger than Tiggs. He has a heart on one of his feet (i think the right one). very soft. very fluffy.

Named after Benedict Cumberbatch (Actor)

Taichi

Dean

Dean is my largest stuffed animal. He is a dark brown teddy bear that's abt 4-ish ft tall. He can be put in a corner and used as like a bean bag chair, or he can lay down flat and be a good pillow like Victor can.

It's very fun to just wrap around him and squeeze as tight as you can. Especially in when your in a bad mood. Very comforting to cry into.

I got him a couple years ago at a thrift store.

Named after Dean Winchester (Supernatural)

Sakyo

Lev

Lev is a lion abt the size of a regular teddy bear (maybe slightly larger). I got him a thrift store so he's slightly worn out from age. He's mostly a pastel dark yellow-ish tan and his mane is dark brown. very huggable.

He's the stuffed animal I sleep with. Smells nice all the time, like the fabric softener.

Named after Lev Haiba (Haikyuu)

Sakoda

Emotional Support Iron Man

So Iron Man is small and he sparkles. He will hurt you/someone if thrown hard enough. Sakoda likes heroes bc they remind him of Sakyo they look cool. I'd hc that he got Iron Man from Sakyo when he was younger and its one of his most valued possessions and goes everywhere with him (or stays with Azamo or Sakyo at the dorm. Maybe Izumi or a couple others are on the list of who can watch over Iron Man.) Very protective of it.

Got the emotional support part of his name from a friend.

She saw Eddie Redmayne on a movie cover (think it was The Danish Girl) and started freaking out bc she loved him. I handed her the Iron Man and the next day she thanked me and said he was an Emotional Support Iron Man and the name stayed.

Azami

[Emotional Support] Spooder-Mon

Sakoda knew Azami as a kid. He most definitely got him the Spider-Man so they could have matching plushies.

Spider-Man is square and has little blob hands doing the web thingy. The tag said travel pillow, but he probably just chills by Azami's bed. When needed, Iron Man will be placed next to him if Sakoda can't take Iron Man with him.

I brought him to school one day and we had a bio test and all the people sitting around me passed him around and gave him a pat for good luck. We all got good grades and then he was dubbed as Emotional Support Spooder-Mon, but the Emotional Support title isnt part of his name (unlike the Iron Man).

i wanted guy in the pic, but i also wanted tsumu and hiso in the pic so you get 2 pics for winter

Winter Troupe:

Tsumugi

Phil

Phil is a zebra. He is a pillow pet zebra. Like Lucifer, Phil is also easy travel size. The bottom half of Phil is pink, so I refer to him as my pink zebra.

I just think it'd be cute to have Tsumugi with a pillow pet ok. I also thought he'd probably have has Phil for many years (since he was a kid) and Tasuku most definitely brings up things from when they were kids and shit.

//////////

Tasuku: you chose the pink zebra, and for what???

Tsumugi: its a very aesthetically pleasing pastel pink.

Tasuku: THERE WAS A DOG PILLOW PET RIGHT THERE AND IT WAS CUTER

Tsumugi: dont talk bad abt Phil.

the rest of mankai: ????????

//////////

I got phil before I got Lucifer many years ago. He was old when i got him and he is very old now. I love him so much.

Named after Phil Lester (AmazingPhil) [YouTube]

Tasuku

Cap

Cap is a husky. He was won from a claw machine with Steve.

There's just something abt the grey and white that gave me Tasuku vibes. Also, Cap's eyes are abt the same shade of blue as Tsumugi's and Tasuku knows this bc they are in love. Very squishy when hugged and with the way he sits, you could make it look like he's guarding something.

Named after Captain America (Marvel)

Homare

Ushijima (Ushi)

Ushijima, also called Ushi, is the last of my giant stuffed animals. He is abt 2-3 ft tall (like Sammy) and has a tail abt the same length.

Ushi is a raccoon thats mostly hot pink. Ushi's eyes are also pink and just abt the same shade as Homare's hair, although Ushi's fur is brighter by a few shades.

Ushi hurts when thrown/swung hard enough. Very fun to hug bc he's filled with beans (like beanie babies) so unlike all my other giant animals, he doesn't have to be fixed/adjusted after everytime you squeeze him. The tail has cotton tho and makes a good pillow.

Homare would definitely just see a 3 ft tall hot pink raccoon and claim it with no explanation.

Named after Ushijima Wakatoshi (Haikyuu)

Hisoka

Vladmir Dracula the 3rd (Vlad, Drac)

Vladmir Dracula the 3rd, who has many other names but usually goes by Vlad or Drac, is a vampire (surprise).

Vlad is a squishmallow thingy, and their tags say something abt them being able to be used as pillows, and thats why Hisoka gets Vlad.

Vlad is triangular in shape, with triangle ears, and triangle fangs, so I thought abt Misumi, but i figured Hisoka bc it's a pillow.

He's like the perfect travel size and he has a cape and a bowtie.

Named after Vlad the Impaler, the real life inspiration behind Dracula (my brother thought he was named after Vladmir Putin and I wanted to punch him for that but I was too busy laughing.)

Also named after Dracula, who was a vampire.

Idk where 'the 3rd' came from, but it's part of his name for forever.

Azuma

Sebastian

Sebastian is a dinosaur thats blue with a white tummy.

He's also a squishmallow, but he's bigger than Vlad by abt 2× as wide, so he'd be harder to carry around, which is why Hisoka got Vlad instead. Being a squishmallow means he looks more blob than dinosaur and i love it.

His tag said his name was Dominic or something, but I named him Sebastian before I actually checked the tag, so he's Sebastian.

Named after Sebastian (Black Butler) and Sebastian Stan (Actor)

Guy

Moriarty

Moriarty is my other polar bear. I got him with Sherlock and named him Moriarty bc Moriarty is Sherlock's nemesis.

He's just a plain white bear thats very huggable and adorable. I usually have a bowtie on him bc it makes him look fancy.

Guy would like him bc he's plain white and very fluffy.

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ask-marcus-cally-and-ari · 3 years

Text

Only Human

Chapter 15: Ride or Die

The trio had been allowed to wander while the Freaks discussed their next plan. Marcus, for his part, went looking for a cot or a bed. “I’m so f*cking tired.”

“We have a few spare beds in the medical ward,” a nearby intern piped up, looking up as Marcus passed her desk.

“Thanks.”

“My nephew talks about you a lot,” the intern added. “Jackie Ruez?”

“Our small forward. Nice guy,” Marcus smiled, sitting down. “I remember he didn’t know much English when he first started.”

“You and your friends tutored him, right?”

“That was all Cal. I just taught him basketball and Ari taught him how to paint.”

“He’s been painting a lot these days. “He went through 10 packs of watercolors in just three months.”

Marcus chuckled. “I remember swapping his acrylics with finger paint as a joke. He chased me all through school that day. I probably deserved it.”

“So that’s why he came home with paint all over his hands.”

“I had to wash my hair for an hour to get it all out.” Marcus smiled, and then sighed, a look of tiredness no teenager should have had on his face.. “...look, can you just... just tell him I’m okay?”

“Of course.”

“The last time I got in trouble, it was some kids from a nearby school who jumped me. My teammates tracked down each one, took some bats and metal pipes, and put them all in the hospital. In one night. I don’t want them doing anything like that now. They could get hurt, and on my mama, I bet those *ssholes would turn them just to f*ck with me.”

“You know, if you wanted you could ask Colonel Dyson to put them under HECU Protection. It’s like Witness Protection, just with a lot more security.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

The intern nodded and picked up the nearby phone. “Do you want to call him yourself or do you want me to put in the request?”

“I’d like you to do it. I want to call my team.”

“There’s a phone in the break room over there.” The intern gestured down the hall to Marcus’ right.

“Thanks.”

---

“Man, this sucks! Marcus is who-knows-where being hunted and we can’t do sh*t to help!”

A young teen, no more than 14, grumbled sourly to himself while kicking over a box of wood chips in an abandoned warehouse. Another kid, a few years older than him, looked up from their phone.

“I got a lead a few hours ago. From what I can gather, it looks like he was heading to HECU Headquarters. I don’t know if they’ve made it there yet, though.”

“What can we do? These are, like, supervillains! And we’re just teenagers!”

“We could track them. Cally has a bunch of brainiac friends. Get them together and have them start looking for those *ssholes,” a tall boy, likely 17, suggested.

“Maybe we should get some of Ari’s friends, too,” another kid added.

“Yeah. The more, the better.”

The kid with the phone sat up and started briskly typing away. “Guys, you’re not gonna believe this, but it looks like Marcus has some Freaks of his own. You guys know Spyper and Intelligent Heavy, right?”

“I think so. Didn’t Spyper get his head chopped off and put on someone else’s body?”

“Yeah, he got his body swapped around with Sny.”

“Hey, Wilson. Start finding more good Freaks. The more join up, the more chance Marcus has of getting through this. Have the brainiacs help.”

“I think Marcus is way ahead of us. I found some security footage of the road outside HECU Headquarters and just take a look at who’s with him.” Wilson showed the other kids the footage, where a handful of Freaks accompanied the Trio inside, including Count Jester.

“He got the clown with him?” a younger kid piped up.

“Apparently. Now all he needs is us-”

Ring! Ring!

“Huh? My phone!”

“Who is it, Jackie?”

“Unknown Number. Should I answer it?”

“Answer it, but don’t say anything. If it’s spam, they’ll hang up if they don’t hear anything.”

Jackie did. “Hello?”

“Jackie? It’s Marcus. Are you okay?”

“Marcus!” Jackie gasped. “Are you in HECU? We’ve been looking all over for you!”

“Yeah, I’m at HECU. Your aunt says hi.”

“Aw. How long have you been at HECU?”

“Jester teleported us here about an hour ago. Apparently they were tricked into holding us for the guy who wants to kill us, but that’s been sorted out, and they gave me a pet, so we’re cool now.”

“...I’m sorry, what?”

“Yeah, everyone trying to kill us is working for one dude.”

“Yeah that doesn’t sound bad at all,” Jackie winced.

“Tell me about it. Anyway. I’m calling to ask you not to do something stupid.”

“Whaaaat? Psh, nah, we’re not gonna do anything stupid. Right, guys?” Jackie said with a snide grin, winking at the rest of his team.

“You worry too much, Quinn. Chill.”

“Yeah. Rest easy, we’re not gonna pull some sh*t.”

“Alright. Stay safe out there. And don’t go near any emo Snipers you see.”

“Sure thing, man.”

Jackie hung up, still grinning. “So. Who’s ready to hunt an emo Sniper?’

“I’ll get the others. Viktor. Does your family still have all those weapons?”

“Yeah. Which ones do we need?”

“As many as you can get. Especially long-range. We did tell Marcus that we wouldn’t approach the f*cker, so sniping is the way to go.”

“There’s nothing quite like exploiting a loophole,” Viktor grinned, heading out of the warehouse.

The other boy nodded and dialed a number. “Hey, Olga? Gather the brainiacs. We know where Marcus, Cally, and Ari are.”

“Wait, really!?”

“Yeah. A buncha Freaks are trying to kill them.”

“WHAT!?”

“Yeah. Apparently”

“Holy sh*t... Alright, what do you need help with?”

“Hacking. We need you to track down as many Freaks as you can.”

“On it.”

“And get Ari’s friends. We need numbers.”

“Gotcha.”

Hanging up that call felt heavy, like the life-changing moment it would be for everyone involved.

“Should we have anyone over at HECU to keep an eye on Marcus?”

“No. Then they’d know what we’re doing and try to stop us. We gotta stay off the radar. Wear masks. Disguise our voices. Make sure nobody can identify us.”

“I had a feeling we’d need these!” another kid shouted from the bottom of the warehouse, pulling along a rack of all black disguises.

“Hey, you’re the theater kid, right? I knew you were useful for something.”

“Yep! I had these costumes ready for awhile but we never needed them. UNTIL NOW!”

“Awesome. Guys, get home. We’ll meet back here tonight.”

“Alright. Nobody die overnight!”

“Don’t jinx it.”

The theater kid knocked on the side of the warehouse on their way out.

---

“Thank you all for coming. As you know, a bunch of superpowered *ssholes have decided to kill our friends, and we, the students of Dade City High, cannot allow this to happen.”

As the student body president spoke, Viktor handed weapons to everyone in attendance.

“You are being given weapons now. If you do not know how to use them, Viktor will teach you on the way.”

“What’s the current plan of attack?” A younger student piped up among the crowd.

“We go to HECU. Its location is confidential, but our hackers have found it. We also have a van we stole from a junkyard and fixed to be our ride. You know, to make it harder to track.”

“How are we all gonna fit in one van?” Another student called from the back of the crowd.

“Like sardines.”

“Also, I have a trailer. We can use that for training and extra space,” added a rich kid.

“Couldn’t we just use an old school bus?” One of the engineering students pondered. “Wouldn’t take much to jumpstart it, and nobody would be suspicious of a school bus going through Evo City.”

“From Dade City? That’s two states away,” put in a chess club student.

“What about an activity bus? It’s not uncommon for students to go on field trips that take them across state lines,” another engineering student added.

“That works. You two go steal it. We can take both.”

The engineering students nodded and gathered up their bags before leaving for the school’s parking lot, their bags clinking with metal on the way out.

“Did everyone pack some clothes and supplies?”

“Yeah, but why not electronics?”

The rich kid spoke up again. “I got a cheap phone plan. Everyone gets a phone. This way our parents can’t track us.”

“And they can’t be tracked by anyone else, can they?” a skeptical student inqueried, looking their phone over.

“I was kinda hoping you tech whiz guys could take care of that,” the rich kid replied sheepishly.

The small group of tech students all glanced at each other before sharing a collective nod. “Give us 10 minutes.”

“Good.”

“What do we do once at HECU?”

“Find out where our friends are. By force if necessary.”

“And if any hostile Freaks show up while we’re doing that?”

“Why do you think I’m giving you weapons?” Viktor deadpanned, holding up his own gun.

“Ask a stupid question,” the class clown teased.

“I mean like, one of the really bad ones. Like Painis. I don’t even think our weapons would work against him.”

“Probably run. Or run him over.”

“Let’s pray that Freaks like Nightmare Medic or HOOVYDUNDY aren’t part of this whole thing.”

“Hmm... hey, I just remembered. I have an aunt that works at HECU.”

“Uh... who are you?” the student body president asked.

“Melissa James.”

“Oh no,” the student body gasped in unison.

“...is that bad?”

“Are... are you related to Anita James, by any chance?”

“Yeah! That’s my aunt! She taught me how to build bombs. And tasers.”

“Holy sh*t! You’re related to a mad scientist! THE mad scientist!”

“Yeah, she’s a bit... eccentric. But the point is, she could be our in. And get us better weapons when we get there.”

“Isn’t she under constant surveillance though? I heard she blew up HECU twice in the last three months. That’s not something you just leave unmonitored.”

“In the same three months, she built a weapon that can level cities, a teleportation device, an army of attack microbots, and a shield generator. We could use those against stronger Freaks.”

“Would she even let us use them?”

“She’s a mad scientist who needs her weapons tested, and I hear her boss won’t let her give them to HECU soldiers. I’m not worried.”

“Well…”

“What choice do we have, Todd? Do you want them to kill Ari? Or Marcus? Or Cally? We’re desperate, and beggars can’t be choosers.”

The student sighed. “Alright. Give her a call.”

---

RING! RING!

“Hello?”

“Hey, Aunt Anita.”

“Oh! Hi, Melissa! How are you?”

“Not good. My friends are in danger. I think you may have seen them. Marcus, Cally, and Ari?”

Anita paused, lifting her pen off her notepad. “...yes, they just came in earlier today.”

“Some friends and I are coming to help him out, and we were wondering about using your weapons to do it.”

“Hmm... Come around the back of HECU. I’ll keep the door unlocked for you.”

“Heh... thanks, Aunt Anita. Also, could you maybe not tell those three about this? We told Marcus we wouldn’t do anything crazy, and if he finds out we’re doing this, we’re gonna get our *sses kicked.”

“My lips are sealed.”

“Thanks.”

There was a nod, and Anita, the mad doctor who sent people running with a smile and a wave, hung up.

#only human #breather chapter #freak fortress #tf2 freaks #TF2 #dr. anita james #mad scientist

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acaseforpencils · 3 years

Text

Amy Kurzweil.

I am a Boston born, currently California-dwelling, temporarily Berlin-bound, New Yorker, which is to say I lived in New York for eleven years and there I left my heart. I studied writing, and I feel I'm still learning to draw. My first book is a graphic memoir called Flying Couch published with Catapult, and I'm working on my second, called Artificial: a love story. My comics and writing have been published in The Believer Magazine, Literary Hub, Longreads, forthcoming in The New York Times Book Review, and elsewhere. In addition to The New Yorker, my cartoons have appeared in Alta, Wired, Airmail, and Narrative Magazine. When I'm not making comics, I also spend a lot of my time teaching (take a class with me on Patreon!).

Find this print here!

See the Caterpillar grow:

Here's a picture of the book I'm working on. 340 penciled pages that somehow need to be inked!! Note all the used up Blackwing pencils.

Tools of choice: Someone at a comics festival once handed me a Blackwing pencil and little did she know I'd be shelling out $2 a pencil for the rest of my life. Or maybe she did know. Probably she was a plant. Blackwing pencils are so smooth and beautiful. I also feel proud to have used the same Pentel brush pen for the last seven or eight years. I inked my whole first book with it, and every cartoon I've ever drawn. I'm wondering if I'm supposed to buy another one before inking my next book, or if I should put myself in the running for some kind of record. Brush pens are great because there's no dipping, but you get dynamic line variation. My Pentel has refillable, non-messy cartridges. I'm also obsessed with watercolor. I recently did an experiment where I tested out all of Daniel Smith and Winsor Newton's black and grey watercolors (there are more than you think) and I learned that Lamp Black is the best if you're looking for rich black that doesn't granulate. I like watercolor better than ink wash because it's more forgiving. Watercolor doesn't set right away so you can kind of move it around the paper and get more even washes.

I also love Neutral Tint. Such a pretty almost-purple.

Tool I wish I could use better: Probably everyone says this, but I'd like to learn to use nib/dip pens better. I use a Copic Multiliner for fine line work, in addition to the Pentel, and I suspect it would be more natural and sophisticated to make all my lines with one tool that offers maximum line variation. Oh and anything to do with a computer. I don't really want to draw digitally, but I think being able to do some part of my process (sketching? roughs?) on the computer or ipad might help me be more productive and organized.

Tool I wish existed: I would like a very good eraser that doesn't leave eraser shavings all over your desk, bed, floor, skin, brain, everywhere. I know about those kneaded erasers, but they really aren't as good.

Tricks: I love graph paper, especially Bienfang in non-photo blue. It helps me with layout, especially for sequential comic pages. I use the grid behind the page to help me orchestrate natural flow even if I'm not panelling traditionally. I also find a blank white page very scary.

Misc: Lately I've been telling people that I think writing is harder than drawing. Or maybe what I mean is... I find it interesting to think about the different ways in which they are hard. I think to draw well requires a kind of letting go. Beautiful lines come from natural, unlabored gestures. To write well requires, in my experience, lots and lots of editing and extreme brain-squeezing. The perfect cartoonist is someone who is both obsessively precise and effortlessly expressive. It's a tall order.

Website, etc. You can order my book, Flying Couch, wherever, I recommend Bookshop.org. You can follow me on instagram @amykurzweil Join me on Patreon! At the $10 level, I offer monthly classes and host a Slack channel where people share work and support each other, or for $2 you can subscribe to my weekly Ramble where I share cartoons, tips, and art-life updates. Check out ToonStack and subscribe for extra New Yorker cartoonist cartoons every Sunday.

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If you enjoy this blog, and would like to contribute to labor and maintenance costs, there is a Patreon, and if you’d like to buy me a cup of coffee, there is a Ko-Fi account as well! I do this blog for free because accessible arts education is important to me, and your support helps a lot! You can also find more posts about art supplies on Case’s Instagram and Twitter! Thank you!

#amy kurzweil #how to draw new yorker cartoons

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thatmultifandomhoe · 4 years

Text

Consequences

Word Count: 6,583

Overview: You had dated one of Jungkook’s best friends - someone he consider to be an older brother - and even though you were now single and he had never stopped loving you, dating was an impossible option. The consequences of dating an ex of the leader? Life threatening.

Pairing: Jungkook and Reader

Genre AU/Rating: College AU - Forbidden Love AU - Lost Friendship - Childhood Best Friends to Lovers - Rated: PG-13

Warning: Drinking - Swearing - Cheating - Flashbacks of Implied Sex - Dirty Talk - Calling someone a Whore - Implied Unwanted Drug Use - Jungkook is a badass covered in tattoos and piercings, so take that as you will - Namjoon is an asshole with tattoos (sorry fellow Joon stans) - Implied Assault.

Master List:

Spotify Playlist:

Pinterest Mood Board:

Also, just a reminder that I had changed my name from @/abangtanfangirl to my current username, I’m just too lazy to remake the banner I originally made.

©thatmultifandomhoe 2020. Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without permission.

The party was in full swing by the time you and your roommates arrived. Strobe lights were bouncing off the walls in reds and blues as bodies carelessly danced all around, girls even risking limbs to stand on top of tables and chairs, thriving in the attention from the party goers that gave them the courage they needed to swing their hips to the beat of the music.

It wasn’t as if this was your first party, but it wasn’t every day that you attended a college party that seemed more fitting for a rave than a place that was the home to a frat house. Then again, knowing the seven men who lived here, it wouldn’t be too surprising if they purposely designed tonight’s party after a rave.

“Here,” Louise said, gaining your attention. She grinned as she slipped a purple glow stick necklace around your neck, wearing her own neon green one. “Everyone has one. They must have black lights or something.”

You raised an eyebrow at her but silently accepted the matching bracelets. A quick glance around revealed that everyone was wearing some type of glow in the dark jewelry and white shirts, effectively glowing as the drunk the night away.

“Maybe,” you answered, pressing your lips together as you grabbed the back of Louise’s shirt when she began walking towards the kitchen. The rest of your roommates had scattered about once they walked through the door. You had your own plans for the night, but attempting to make it through this large of a crowd by yourself was insane, so hitching a ride on the end of her shirt seemed like the best idea at the moment.

Louise glanced over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow at you. “Come on,” she hollered, the music getting louder at a break down in the song. “It’s the Bangtan Boys, out of everyone here you should know that they do.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, shoving her away to elbow your way to the kitchen, ignoring the high pitch laughter that Louise possessed.

She was right though. They did own a black light. They owned several boxes of black lights in fact, for this sole purpose of throwing insane parties that everyone on campus would be talking about for the semester. How you knew that however, was a reason you wanted to forget.

With the familiar path ingrained in your mind, you were in the kitchen long before Louise. Surprisingly, it wasn’t as crowded in the kitchen like one would think, especially considering the round table in the middle was covered in every bottle of alcohol imaginable, and knowing the Bangtan Boys, the fridge was fully stock as well.

The green painted walls had you doing a double take, intrigued with the sudden change of color. Last time you were here, the kitchen was a soft watercolor yellow that matched perfectly with the wooden cabinets. Not that they now clashed with the green walls but, it was something you hadn’t expected to see.

“Well look who we have here,” a voice purred in your ear, the hairs on your arms standing up as your hand settled on the red solo cups. It wasn’t the one you were hoping to avoid, and while Jimin was a dozen more times pleasant than him, you preferred to see Jimin under you own circumstances.

Ignoring him, you grabbed the empty cup and walked around the round table, window shopping for what they had out at the moment.

“Oh, come on,” he called out, but you still refused to look at him. “Did you really think you could come to one of our parties and not expect to run into one of us? That hurts me.”

He just had to hit the hammer right on the nail. He was only going to get more persistent, so after locating a bottle of bourbon, you looked at Jimin, wishing that you could wipe off that satisfied smirk he wore. His soft pink hair was slicked back, that pair of tangerine tinted sunglasses he loved were perched halfway down on his nose.

“What do you want Jimin?” You asked. Finding less than an inch of space on the table, you carefully set down the solo cup to open the bourbon.

Jimin laughed, walking around the table to stand beside you once more. Trailing his fingers up your bare arms, he jerked his hand at your elbow causing more alcohol to pour out than you originally intended. “Nothing really. It’s good to see you again.”

The cup nearly knocked over and on to the floor, but you caught it at the last second. Glaring at him, you shoved the glass bottle into his stomach, his silver rings glittering in the light as he caught it with ease.

“Quit lying and tell me what you really want,” you said, raising your cup for a sip, ignoring the sting as the magic liquid settled in your chest.

He laughed again and you wondered if he had been the one to get the party going this time. His personality itself was like a person with three drinks in them to begin with. “I mean it, you know that. Things got quiet and boring when Namjoon dumped you.”

There it was. The reason you wanted to oh so easily forget while enjoying the free alcohol. Normally you didn’t rush to get drunk, but the pang in your heart cut through you more deeply than the bourbon and you were once again raising the cup to your lips, this time allowing the burn of the liquor to drown out the heartache.

It had been almost six months since Namjoon had broken up with you. Well, he never said it with words, but you had gotten the idea after walking into his room to find him naked with two other girls in his bed. The man that was the head of the Bangtan Boys and had more philosophical thoughts running through his head than Plato and Aristotle, was no better than any other fuck boy you had met in your life. His sweet words and intelligence had just masked over it.

You had fallen hard for Namjoon, and even now six months later, it was still painful to think about that morning. The feelings by now were long since gone, but knowing he had cheated on you lingered within your mind and seeped its way into your bones. It hurt to find him with one girl, but when the second sat up from underneath the blankets, it was a slap to the face.

He never even tried to follow after you like they always depict in the movies. No calls. No texts. Nothing. Not even the others went after you when you silently stormed out of their house, passing by all of them without a word. The last thing you had gotten to do was slam the front door behind you hard enough for it to echo in the house.

“Nice to know I’m part of your fond memories Jimin,” you bitterly spoke, staring down at the amber liquid.

A small frown appeared on Jimin’s face as he watched you lift the cup for another sip, but he reached out and placed his hand on yours, stopping it from reaching its destination. “Hey, I mean it,” he murmured in your ear, stepping close enough for you to be able to hear him. “We all like you. You were good and Joon shouldn’t have fucked you like that.”

With every word he spoke, his plush lips grazed your ear. The cup lowered down so it was once again resting on the table, and when Jimin was sure he wouldn’t have to stop you from drinking so fast again, he removed his hand.

“We all miss you,” Jimin added, glancing up and around the party. “That’s why when Kookie asks for cover, we do it.”

At the mere mention of his name, your body tensed up against Jimin’s chest, a familiar fluttering occurred in your chest where it had only been beating in pain. Like Jimin, you spared a glance to the other room, spotting the jealous looks you were receiving from women and men for simply being so close to one of the Bangtan Boys.

It was easy to ignore them. You had gotten used to receiving the same looks when dating Namjoon, and then again when you would hang out with the others in public and in-between classes. “Where is Kook?”

Jimin’s lips curled up in a grin, this time raising your hand and the cup to your mouth. “I’ll allow one more sip before I take this away.”

“You didn’t answer me.”

“You know I never take away anyone’s drinks, so that should be enough for an answer.”

That was true. Jimin always loved his drinks. While Yoongi was more of a social drinker with his glass of red wine, Jimin never cared what it was or when he drank. Give him wine, bear, or hard liquor, it didn’t matter to him. He’d drink it all till the sun came up if he could.

Heeding his advice, Jimin eagerly watched as you drank one last sip before he was wrapping his fingers around the cup, spilling a few drops down your chin when he took it away. He didn’t even set it down, settling on finishing it off instead.

“You ass,” you muttered, glaring at the now empty cup as you carefully swiped at your chin, not wanting to ruin the makeup that you had spent the last hour working on for this party. “Where’s Jungkook?”

Jimin shrugged, a mischievous grin on his face as he filled the cup up with something clear. “Beats the hell out of me. He’s around here somewhere.” Quirking an eyebrow at you, he raised the cup in a mock salute before rejoining the party, the crowd parting for him with ease like he was royalty.

You bit the inside of your cheek in annoyance. Of course, Jimin would only partially tell you what you wanted to hear; he never did like giving all the good information out in one conversation. If he did, it was best to hightail it the hell away from him. That meant he wanted something and usually – depending on who it was directed towards – it wasn’t always the most pleasant of things.

With Louise gone and Jimin most likely in search of bed partner for the night, you forced yourself to leave the kitchen in an attempt to find Jungkook. Unlike Jimin, it was like walking through Jell-O. That was one of the few benefits to associating yourself with the Bangtan Boys, no one gave you hard ass time and parties were easy to navigate through.

As you elbowed your way to the living room, your mind wandered back to the time you spent here. From all the nights you slept over and simply came over to visit during the day, you knew this place like that back of your hand. For long time, this place had felt like home. Which was almost expected considering up until that morning, you and Namjoon had been dating for a year and a half by then.

Out of the seven of the Bangtan Boys, only Namjoon managed to maintain normal relationships for long periods of time. The others preferred hookups more often than not, only indulging in relationships for a month or so before jumping ship, something that Namjoon explicitly expressed disgust for. Which only made your breakup situation ironic.

Finally breaking through to a clear space in the living room, your skin crawled as you felt eyes on you from every person in the area. It wasn’t like you had hid your relationship with Namjoon, in fact, he actually took pride in making it known that you were his girl. You had been forced to get used to all the stares and now it didn’t faze you as much, but this was the first party of theirs that you had attended in a while.

The large three-piece leather sectional didn’t have any empty seats left. There wasn’t any space left, forcing people to sit on the back of the couch, the arms, or even in the laps of those willing. However, it was the man leaning against the wall with a beer bottle in hand that had your attention.

Jungkook was talking to Hoseok and Taehyung, a foot pressed up against the back wall as he tilted his head to the side, a lazy grin on his face as he spoke. His black muscle tank was bagging enough to reveal a majority of his tattoos, ones that you had gotten to know well in the last few months.

Physically, you were seeing Jungkook as he was right now. Mentally, you were picturing the boy you had grown up with.

It had been a shock when Namjoon brought you to the house first time, having stopped dead in when you laid eyes on Jungkook. The first time you originally met was back in elementary school. It was during art hour and you were drawing a picture of your family, Jungkook was sitting next to you coloring his paper when the two of you reached for the same yellow crayon to draw the sun. It was cheesy, but since then the two of you stuck to each other like glue, lasting all the way up to high school. The summer before sophomore year was when things broke apart. His family was moving away, and he wouldn’t be able to attend the same school come fall. Hell, he wasn’t even going to be in the same state anymore.

For a while, phone calls that started on Friday nights and ended on Saturday mornings were a weekly routine for the two of you. But when the two of you got adjusted to school again, the work piled up, and parents began taking away phone privileges until the grades got better, the weekly calls slowed down to once or twice a month. By the time graduation came and you decided on which college you were attending, you never thought you’d see him again.

To see Jungkook for the first time during your sophomore year of college, you hadn’t been able to stop yourself rushing forward to hug him. Luck on been on your side that day when he lifted you up, your legs instantly wrapping around him as he held you tightly.

“I thought I was never going to see you again,” Jungkook had whispered, his arms almost crushing you with his strength, but you were hugging him back just as hard.

The reunion between you and him was the last thing anyone expected, especially with Namjoon right there to watch you jump his youngest friend, someone he considered practically a brother. Looking back on it now, the jealousy he harbored for your friendship with Jungkook was as clear as an ocean made out of crystals. Whenever Jungkook entered the room and you were there, Namjoon was instantly touching or kissing you, something that at the time you never thought twice about because he was your boyfriend and that’s who he was. It didn’t matter if the two of you were alone or out in public, if he wanted something, he didn’t hesitate about taking it.

It was so stupid now as you thought back to your ex-boyfriend. You had been completely devoted to Namjoon, the idea of being with someone else never once crossed your mind, at least up until that last month of your relationship when he grew distant.

A body suddenly stepped in front of you, blocking Jungkook from your sight and forcing you to look at a black t-shirt and a tattooed arm. Lifting your head, irritation filled your veins at the sight of Namjoon. At some point during the last six months he had dyed his hair platinum blond again, and regrettably, it looked good on him. The last time you had done an impulsive dye job you ended up having to go to the salon to get it fixed.

“Was that morning not enough of a hint for you?” Namjoon slowly asked.

You clenched your jaw, glancing away from his eyes as you took a step back. “When did you start kicking people out of your parties?” Raising an eyebrow, you ignored the way he crossed his arms over his chest, displaying the way his muscles flexed at the small movement. He must have started working out more often lately.

Namjoon chuckled though, drawing your attention back to him. “Not unless you piss me off. Although considering you’re my ex, that should be enough reason for me to throw you out.”

Don’t say anything, you thought, you haven’t found Jungkook yet. Instead, you focused on his right arm. Back then, the black and grey scaled tree of life tattoo that wrapped around his arm had brought a sense of comfort. Many nights you had traced each and every delicate line and branch while draped on his chest, the blankets crumpled up and covering yourselves only from the hips down.

He had other tattoos, mostly phrases he had written over the years and had Taehyung ink onto his body in various scripts, but this was his single largest piece. It would be a lie to say it wasn’t beautiful. Just because he was an ex-didn’t mean you couldn’t appreciate the art.

Without warning, Namjoon grabbed your chin with his fingers and forced you to meet his gaze. Brown eyes that you once thought belonged to the minds of the gods, stared down at you with unwavering disdain.

“You gonna tell me what you’re doing here? Or do I actually have to kick you out of my house?”

I can’t believe I loved you, you thought, wanting to yank your chin out of his hold but knowing better to not to.

“I came with my roommates,” you sighed, gesturing with a thumb around the party. “We’ve all been stressed with classes and wanted to relax. I didn’t realize we were coming here until Louise pulled on to the street and I recognized where we were. They’re around here, somewhere.”

If there was anything decent about Namjoon, it was that he listened. Even if he hated someone, he always listened to them without interruption – whether it was in hopes of finding dirt to hold over them or to give the benefit of the doubt – and that seemed to be working in your favor right now.

He licked his lips, looking away from you to scan the room like he could see everyone who was currently dancing and getting drunk in his house all in a matter of seconds.

“Alright,” he finally said, releasing you. “You can stay. But you know the rules. Don’t break any of my shit, and don’t fuck with some stranger in any of the rooms. I’d say don’t do drugs but I know you won’t…” his voice died off, his face barely softening for a few seconds.

That was another good thing about Namjoon. When it came to the Bangtan Boys and the girls he dated – including you – he protected and took care of them. During your relationship, he had rushed you to the hospital when you showed up at the house banging on the doorbell in the dead of the night.

After a night of hanging out with friends, the group of you decided to go out for Taco Bell – the ultimate form of comfort food while on a college budget – and were walking home. You had been the only one to not have a drink that night, but some of them decided that the night wasn’t over. It was only sheer luck that you were near Namjoon’s street and were able to run to his house.

Before you had passed out, you vividly recalled the rage that had been apparent on Namjoon’s face when he swung the front door open, ready to punch out the lights of the person banging on the doorbell, until he saw you standing there, hysterical and pupils nearly blown out with bruises and scratches on your body. You had been shaking with adrenaline and from whatever drug a group of guys had forced into your mouth.

You had been hospitalized for two weeks to make sure the drugs were out of your system and to make sure everything healed okay, and even now, the night was fuzzy in certain spots, but you never could forget Namjoon’s reaction.

When you woke up, along with Namjoon, Jungkook had been asleep in chairs by your beside. Their knuckles were busted and had dried blood on the skin. Namjoon’s face remained unscathed, but Jungkook had had purple bruises blossoming on his cheekbone and his lip was split.

Instead of answering, you silently nodded. That memory, along with various others when he as all soft words and gentle caresses, reminded you that Namjoon wasn’t one hundred percent evil, but that didn’t make him pure. It was like having a poisonous snake next to someone and saying it wasn’t poisonous because it hadn’t bit them yet. Only time would reveal their true intentions, and you knew his.

He gestured over to one of the folding tables against the wall to your left that was covered in bowls of snacks. “Go, get something to eat before drinking anymore.” He didn’t stick around for much longer, pushing past and harshly bumping into your shoulder before you were able to step out of his way.

In that instant the memory disappeared, nose scrunching up in annoyance as you watched your giant of an ex-head towards the kitchen, moving with ease until some girl stumbled into him and he caught her. She was holding a cup and so it was possible that she was just drunk, but even with the distance between you and them, her eyes weren’t glassy enough and the way she instantly pressed her body against Namjoon was too stable.

Whether or not she did have too much to drink, Namjoon easily wrapped his arms around her lower back, settling his palms conveniently near her ass. He didn’t have to be facing you for you to know he was grinning down at the party girl.

Not that you cared, but at least have some decency.

You rolled your eyes, glancing back at the wall where Jungkook had been, but neither him or Hoseok or Taehyung were there anymore. Sighing, you made your way over to the snack table, this time finding it easier to move around as people headed to the center of the room to dance.

When you reached the table though, Hoseok was leaning against it and tossing M&Ms into his mouth. The candy fiend himself appeared to be enjoying the break away from the party and sweaty bodies, and considering how flushed his face was, perhaps the alcohol too.

“How many have you had?” You asked, stepping closer to sink your hand into the bowl of Reese’s Pieces.

Knocking back another handful, Hoseok held up one finger.

That wasn’t surprising in the least. Turning around, you ate the candy piece by piece as you watched the strobe flights speed up, bouncing off of everyone so fast a headache was sure to form.

“He’s in his room,” Hoseok said, his breath rich with chocolate as he leaned close for you to hear him.

Nodding, you turned to walk down the hallway when Hoseok grabbed you by the bicep, dragging you back towards the wall and out of the way of the strobe lights as your snack spilled onto the floor, the sound lost to everyone. Back here, the light only reflected off of his face every once in a while, instead of constantly highlighting him.

“The two of you are crazy as hell for doing this.”

It wasn’t the first time Hoseok told you that. He was the first to inform you of this thought when it all started two months ago, and he said it every time he covered for you and Jungkook whenever Namjoon was near.

“Then why help us at all?” you snapped, staring up at him.

Hoseok narrowed his eyes, his hand tightening just the slightest before suddenly dropping from your arm. “And see the two of you dead? You’re fucking insane.”

“Then what are we supposed to do?” You exclaimed, grateful that the music was turning up as you spoke, the walls practically pulsating with the beat. “Namjoon cheated on me with two whores! I waited months before seeing someone else, and I knew Jungkook for years before any of you. Why the hell does this make me the terrible one?”

You ignored the sympathy on Hoseok’s face and walked down the hall towards Jungkook’s room, shaking your head.

That was perhaps the most difficult thing about sneaking around. You had been the person wronged here, you had spent the weekends locked up in your room with the blankets tightly wrapped around your body as you cried, wondering what the hell was wrong with yourself for Namjoon to cheat on you with those women. There had even been a period when you considered changing certain aspects about yourself to win him back, to become his ideal woman. You’d get more tattoos, add a few more piercings and read up on philosophical texts to be able to hold a conversation with him.

The only saving grace through that entire time, was Jungkook.

When you saw him for the first time in years, it was like all that time apart had evaporated and you were hanging out like old times. There had been plenty of catching up to be done and there had been a shock factor on his part – he had since bulked up and no longer resembled the scrawny kid he once used to be, had grown out his hair, his ears had piercings galore, and he covered himself in tattoos – but he was still the Jungkook you knew and loved.

Like clockwork he came over to your apartment every chance he had. Bringing your favorite take out and watching trashy reality shows, even holding you when you couldn’t force the tears back. Jungkook didn’t let you fall beyond repair, choosing to be the glue you needed for you to put yourself back together.

When it had been four months after the breakup and you were getting back to yourself, you had realized that while watching a movie late one night with Jungkook, you were in his lap. The lights had been off and the two of you were sitting on your bed with his back against the headboard, and you were sitting in-between his legs with your back against his chest, his arms hugging you closer.

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asked when you shifted in his arms, capturing his attention when you sat on your knees in front of him.

You didn’t say anything, simply reaching up to brush the hair that had fallen in his eyes away. He didn’t stop you. Instead, he patiently waited as you stared at him, trying to figure out how the kid you had grown up with, was suddenly the man who owned your heart. When that happened was unanswerable, but it felt like no matter where you went or what happened, you would always find your way back to him.

With that in mind, you slid your palm down to his cheek, shakily breathing when he slid his hands up your thighs to gently rest on your hips. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards for only a moment because the next thing you knew, you were kissing Jungkook.

His hands tightened on your hips as he eagerly kissed you back like he had been waiting for this moment for years.

The next morning when you woke up, the first thing you saw was a chest covered in hickeys and a tattoo of a caged swallow, its partner flying free but nearby. He was still asleep, his arm like dead weight on your bare waist. You should have been questioning yourself, you had slept with your best friend who was also one of your ex-boyfriend’s best friends.

Even as you considered that, you shifted your leg over his and leaned forward, gently kissing his chest once, twice, slowly making your way up to his neck. It was on the fourth kiss that Jungkook groaned, and on the sixth, he was rolling you onto your back as he harshly returned the kisses, his knees spreading your legs for round three.

Since then, it was meeting up in secret and Jungkook spending nights at your apartment to avoid running into Namjoon. It wasn’t a secret how possessive he could be, and if he saw Jungkook with you romantically, there would be hell to pay.

Knowing that he was waiting for you, you didn’t bother with knocking and just walked in, spotting Jungkook sitting on his bed with one leg propped on the mattress and his elbow resting on his knee as he scrolled through his phone.

You shut the door and with extra caution, flipped the lock on it, guaranteeing a few stolen moments without someone barging in. He looked up then, a smirk growing as he tossed his phone to the side, his arms wrapping around your waist when you were close enough for him to touch.

“I’m too sober for this,” he murmured, tilting his head back to look up at you, mischief alive in his eyes as he slid his hands into your back pockets, squeezing your ass. “There’s a Goddess in my arms, and I want to fucking ruin her.”

As filthy as his words were, it brought a smile to you lips as you tossed the glow stick necklace to the floor while the frustration you had from dealing with Namjoon was whisked away. In addition to igniting a flame to your insides that had you thirsting for more of Jungkook’s words, but for his touch, his kisses, for everything that was him and that he was willing to give.

“I’m tempted to let you do that,” you murmured back, moving your leg so your knee was on the bed next to his hip. “But you have tendency to go for hours.”

He quirked an eyebrow at you, the silver hoop glinting in the low lighting. “You’ve never complained about my stamina before.”

“What’s there to complain about?” You teased, pressing your lips together and enjoying the way Jungkook’s eyes darken.

“I’d be careful if I were you baby,” he warned, his voice lowering as he squeezed your ass tighter before massaging it through the denim. “I have no problem with bending you over my desk and fucking you rough to teach a lesson.”

Any normal person would have been worried by that statement, but you? The image that came to mind had you shakily inhaling, your panties feeling a little damper than they had ten minutes ago. If it weren’t the fact that Namjoon was in the house, you would have continued with the teasing until he fulfilled his promise. But even you were smart enough to know that was too risky.

Which is why you had to tell him.

“I ran into Namjoon,” you said.

Jungkook’s smile disappeared, his hands pulling out of your pockets at the sudden change of topics. Instead, he scooted backwards so you were able to join him on the bed, not even waiting for you to be completely on it when he was bringing you next to him on your side.

“Everything okay?”

You shifted an arm underneath your head. “Yeah. I was looking for you when he suddenly appeared. Threw back that morning at me and debated on kicking me out.”

“Fucking Namjoon,” running a hand through his hair, he clenched his jaw before reaching out, gently rubbing your thigh as he propped his chin in his palm. “Why can’t he let it the fuck go?”

That seemed to be the million-dollar question. Namjoon had been the one cheat with not one, but two girls at the same time, not even caring as you walked into his room. That morning had been meant to be surprised. You had finished working on a majority of your papers the night before and it had been a while since you got to spend some time with Joon, so you had planned on waking him up in his favorite way, only apparently, he already had someone else doing it for you.

If he had been able to move on so fast while still in a relationship, why was he always throwing it back at you now that he was single?

“Tell me you need me,” Jungkook suddenly said.

“What?” You asked, blinking up at him in confusion. Where had this come from?

Jungkook’s eyes reminded you of a galaxy of stars hidden away from the rest of the universe, but as they gazed down at you, they were hardened with determination. “Tell me you need me,” he repeated, firmly this time. “So, I don’t fucking go out there and tell him to leave my girl the hell alone and beat the shit out of him.”

You felt your bottom lip quiver briefly as he spoke. Not because what he said could be considered mildly scary, but because you knew how hard this was on him. Jungkook, while he may look like he didn’t give a shit, had the biggest heart you had ever seen. That was something that never changed about him since his younger years.

More often than not he vocalized wanting to be able go out on campus and into town with his arm around you, to hold your hand and go out on dates. You were his girl and the only ones who knew where the other Bangtan Boys. They only knew because they all covered for the two of you when Namjoon asked where Kook was.

He wanted to love you the way he thought you deserved, and he was denied that because if Namjoon found out, blood would be spilled. His in particular. Namjoon would only see the betrayal that Jungkook had committed and in their group, he saw loyalty as number one.

That was why Hoseok always said the two of you were crazy for this.

The consequences of dating an ex of the leader? Life threatening.

Wetting your lips, you reached a hand up to cup his cheek, stroking his face in an attempt to soothe not just him, but yourself as well. Even if either of you came out with the truth, it wouldn’t just be your lives at risk, but the others would be in just as much danger. They were the ones covering your asses, and Namjoon wouldn’t take that lightly.

“Jungkook,” you whispered. “Of course, I need you. I never stopped needing you baby.”

He stared down at you; the room nearly silent with the exception of the music that shook the walls. While he always dreamed of having you like this, he felt like a failure in some ways. Leaning forward, he pressed his forehead against yours, hugging you as he sniffed.

“I’m gonna get us out of here one day,” Jungkook promised. “I’m taking you and we’re going wherever the hell we want. Far away from Namjoon so that he can never find us.”

Despite the situation hanging over your heads, you couldn’t help but smile at him. “Kookie, we’re still young.”

“Doesn’t matter, I’ve always known that I’ve loved you, since we were kids and when Namjoon introduced you that day. It was all just a matter of timing.” In an instant, his hands were on your waist and he rolled you on to your back as he hovered over you with practiced ease. His bangs hung down drawing giggles from you, but you felt more alive as he spoke with passion.

“And if we can’t find the right time, then we’ll take it for ourselves. I’ve been saving up these last couple months, and it’s gonna be a while more before we’ll have enough to get away and not be stuck living in a car, but I’m getting us out of here baby. That is…as long as you want to come with me.”

At some point his hands had slipped under the hem of your shirt, the rings he wore sent cold tingles up your spine at their sudden touch, but all you were able to do was focus on Jungkook and the way he was currently chewing on his bottom lip. Not too long ago he had talked about getting his mouth pierced, although from the amount of times he bit his mouth from nerves or deeply concentrating on a task, the healing process for that one hoop would take forever on him, if he didn’t end up taking it out.

Looking up at him right now, it was like seeing the Jungkook you used to know and the man he had grown into, and you were absolutely in love with both of them. You had loved Namjoon yes, but the way you once felt about him, was nothing compared to the way you felt about Jungkook.

“Do you remember when our moms would schedule playdates for us?” You suddenly asked, a soft smile growing on your face. “And they would always say how cute we were together.”

A grin formed on his face as he briefly glanced away from you, the faintest blush appearing on his cheeks. “My mom still says that.”

Giggling, you nodded in agreement, though your own mom had called him hot when you showed her a recent photo of Jungkook. “Afterwards when we’d get home,” you continued, “I would always tell her that one day, I wasn’t ever going to date anyone who wasn’t you.”

Jungkook’s grin widened to the point of threatening to split his face, but knowing that even back then you had felt the same way about him like he did for you, only made him more determined in getting you far away from Namjoon.

“We can’t tell the guys about our plan. If they don’t know, then Namjoon won’t hurt them.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.” Your heart felt like it was racing. The idea of being able to love each other without fear of Namjoon was a dead weight being removed from your shoulders.

“Then I guess that’s it,” he said, leaning down to kiss the tip of your nose. “We’re getting the fuck out of here.”

With a nod, you wrapped your arms around his neck, adjusting your head to kiss Jungkook.

It was going to be awhile before the two of you had enough money to leave, but the moment the two of you had it, you and Jungkook were going to be gone. There would be no goodbyes to the others. Even though they were pains in the ass at times, they weren’t cruel to those they cared about. If anything, the day the two of you left for good or when they realized what happened, you could easily imagine them getting together and having a drink in your honor.

Maybe one day when it was safe, you and Jungkook could come back for a visit or find a way to stay in touch with them. But none of that would matter if you got caught.

The two of you were dancing on the edge of a knife’s blade, and it was worth every second.

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holyhikari · 4 years

Text

Okay. Okay. It’s 2020, most of the world is shut down and the first episode of Digimon Adventure aired yesterday, missing a ‘Butter-Fly’ and with a colon to spare. Life sure is something.

Gotta say I’m relieved. (For now, at least.) Sure, yeah, I got into the hype train for the reboot from the get-go and determined to just have fun, but. If I can picture all the ways something can go wrong — go BORING — down to excruciating details right from the first episode, why not? That’s what brains are for. So that’s what I did.

Should have saved all that energy.

I want to share with all of you my thoughts on this episode, break it down a little bit; how it made me feel, the few character introductions we got, the pace, the plot and its possibilities.

As much as I want to approach this series keeping the idea of authenticity in mind, it is a reboot. They chose a certain set of (popular!) pre-existent characters to explore, to work with; a balance between creating and adapting. And I’m very interested in seeing how they’ll combine the core elements of Digimon Adventure with all there is unique to this generation of kids, teens and, you know it, adults who stuck around.

Since all we’ve got is the introduction to the series, I’ll be contrasting TOKYO DIGITAL CRISIS to how the original Adventure kicked off back in 1999 with ADRIFT? THE ISLAND OF ADVENTURE!

I did try to keep this as coherent and review-like as possible, but there’s a fair amount of fan-girling and it’s all seen through my very biased Adventure-stan-colored lens. Don’t say I didn’t warn ya.

‘99 starts with an image of our planet, and ‘20 starts almost the same. This time, though, we can see we aren’t alone. ‘The Digital World affecting the Earth’ is something that happens, I believe, in every Digimon reincarnation. In ‘99, it’s deeply affecting our climate. Now, the issue doesn’t seem so drastic that it’s able to reach influence organic matter and mess up many Nature’s cycles across the globe, but it’s still not looking so good for our kids. (It’s the first episode and Hikari and Yuuko almost get train-sandwiched, but I suppose that almost having your head chopped off, courtesy of Kuwagamon, isn’t lovely either.)

Anyway.

I think this Digital World/Network shot isn’t actually part of the episode? I think it’s part of the opening (I mean, not the OP sequence with the song, obviously), and that we’ll be seeing it before each episode starts. Still, it’s an interesting juxtaposition, isn’t it?

A Glorious World is upon us! I wasn’t actually expecting Butter-Fly or anything similar to it, don’t worry. I’m glad the new OP is its own thing! I want Digimon Adventure ‘20 to be as authentic as possible without losing the original’s heart. The song is nice enough. I don’t want to compare it to Butter-Fly, but I’m only human. Give me a few episodes. Gotta let go.

The OP has way more Taichi than the others. No surprise there. He’s our goggle boy. (Still, since they went for a quick throwback to the original opening, it’s a shame only Taichi was shown falling down towards the Digital World).

Everyone got a part, though. Shout out to Takeru and Hikari for being yet again the ominous, powerful baby-faced duo that is definitely up to something.

It’s so interesting that, while the other crests are shown very clearly and surrounded by sparkles, Light and Hope are only shown briefly shining in their partners’ shadows. Why is Takeru so far away from us, why is this so sinister-looking. Hi, mysterious plot. Nice to meet you.

Wherever Hikari is by the end of the OP, it reminds me of Vamdemon’s castle. Maybe she feels connected to Tailmon and follows her somehow? Angemon wasn’t shown in the OP with the older six children’s partners, just Patamon. I wonder if they’ll try to make us grieve for Angemon a second time. It’d work with me. Either way, I imagine we’re in for another last-minute Patamon evolution when everything looks hopeless.

This time, though, we’ve got Hikari from the beginning (yes, I am VERY excited about this, thank you for asking, THIS IS WHAT I DESERVE), and, while I think Patamon is more powerful in regular conditions (as in, Angemon can probably take Angewomon in a fight despite the level imbalance, but as soon as Hikari starts glowing you know who’s winning), he will now be sharing the spotlight with another Archangel evolution… as his friend or as his foe, considering that Tailmon might be a double agent of some sorts in the beginning. Welp.

Anyway. Toei isn’t fooling around, in the OP we can see MetalGreymon in a very scary-looking, glitchy fashion that I’m LIVING for, WarGreymon’s silhouette and, good grief, there’s even a glimpse of Omegamon. Talk about too much information. Maybe chill out a little? (I say this, but the adults already know all of their evos, and the kids just want MOOOOOOORE monstahhhhhrrrrrrsss….which is fair.)

MetalGreymon looks dope here. The others, though, are only shown up to their Adult evolution, even Gabumon. I don’t think they will have only Gabumon and Agumon reaching their Mega forms, and then fusing into Omegamon while everyone else only gets as far as Perfect. Again.

They wouldn’t do this to us. Right? Yeah, they would. Maybe we can have Holydramon/Ophanimon and Seraphimon later on, as a treat. Aaaaaand, depending on how many episodes — how many seasons — this new timeline gets, I’m not giving up hope just yet. Let me have Phoenixmon, Toei, you heartless thing.

Moving on to the actual episode… The first non-Digimon character to show up is the true protagonist. Our queen is back. Our little Digivice thief, Miko herself.

Just you wait, you ain’t gonna be Hikari’s favorite cat-like creature for long.

Speaking of Hikari, LOOK AT THIS WITTLE BABY GIRL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

2020 Taichi right off the bat was Taichi for me. He’s talking to Yuuko and yells “Hikariii~” so loudly Hikari hears it from where she stands, the short cutie. Their mom just hands down the phone for her without missing a beat so Taichi can comfort her through whatever she’s worrying about (her summer classes, probably). Such a sweet, natural little moment that flashes both characters out. I want more of that, please.

We’re then introduced to Koushiro! I’m not gonna lie, I cringed the first time I heard him speak. I thought the voice didn’t fit him very well. This impression faded quickly enough, though, and I’m already attached to his new voice. Later, I realized that part of the reason he sounded off to me was because of how nervous he seemed — around Taichi, of all people! In this version, they’re just meeting for the first time, so it’s very in-character for him. Guess I was kinda shocked seeing Koushiro not feeling at ease talking to Taichi. Poor thing is Anxious! And he’s overthinking about Summer Camp! And he’s happy Taichi is his neighbor! That certainly would’ve helped during the Vandemon arc back in ‘99.

Koushiro gets a little bit over his awkwardness upon hearing the news regarding the cyber attack, something he’s curious about, and finally steps towards Taichi instead of away, which is spot on. These two fall into an easy camaraderie, as they SHOULD, and they head to the train station together, where Taichi decides to, I don’t know… run like crazy on the tracks until he gets to the rogue train where his family is and stop it with sheer force of will? Yeah! Sounds like him!

And now to one of the most interesting parts of this adaption, is that they’re showing us the Crests early on and HOW they’re doing it.

Taichi is able to meet Koromon because he’s being brave.

I mean, the first time, he was chosen because of his courage, too, but they all go in together. They’re taken. They’re washed off the Earth. And while Taichi had no idea he was going to be pulled into the Net, he chose to try to save Hikari and his mom (and, a few moments later, he chose to dive in towards Koromon). This time, it feels so much more personal. The screen switched back and forth between the Crest of Courage, Taichi and Hikari, who I believed called his name. The scene worked so well! (Following this pattern, Koushiro gets his Digivice when expressing curiosity, the will to pursue an explanation for what was happening!!!!)

On the other hand, it’s sort of bittersweet they weren’t pulled in together. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad they didn’t try to introduce all of them AND the Digital World at the same time again. But… ‘99 established them as a ‘team’ within seconds. It’s interesting, though. I’m VERY curious to see how their bonding will go this time around!

Taichi and Koromon meeting was beautiful. I was worried the soundtrack wouldn’t even stand a chance against the masterpiece that is the original one, but the musing playing was so delicate, so majestic. I felt I was witnessing a precious moment. Also, Koromon’s ears twisting into how we represent the DNA while he was evolving was!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!SUCH A GOOD DETAIL!!!!!!

It cracked me up when Koushiro said that what was happening was very surprising while not sounding surprised at all. I wonder how long the kid has been looking into the cyber attacks. Oh, and the Network is pretty. Prettier than I had anticipated, though not that different from Appmon’s style, I think? I can’t wait to get a look at the actual Digital World and see if it has that unique feeling and that odd, watercolor painting aesthetic. I hope I can trust the OP:

Did you notice that Agumon giggled a few times? He looked at Taichi with such love, familiarity and devotion and like he knew something. It felt… right. My heart. My poor, poor heart. (I know this Agumon probably has met Taichi before inside of this very Universe, like the Hikarigaoka incident in the original version, but I like to think about Universe-hopping platonic soulmates.)

Overall the sound work was fantastic, but this scene deserves a highlight. The noise of the Kuramon lookalike moving after evolving was genuinely disturbing. And look at how pretty this is:

Speaking of evolution, AGUMON EVOLVING INTO GREYMON WAS THE SHIT. I loved how straight-up FERAL it was, while still keeping the “Digital” part of “Digital Monster” very much present. It reminded me a bit of Hosoda’s Greymon (most amazing Greymon to this day!) in the Digimon Adventure Movie and, now that I think of it, of him fighting in some Tri. Reunion scenes. Scary Greymon is the best Greymon. Yes. I like it when the Digimon manage to disturb and scare me, okay? They aren’t called monsters for nothing.

I mean we got to see his horn literally bursting out of his skin. This is low-key terrifying. 10/10.

BUT WHERE IS THE EVOLUTION THEME SONG

I am: deceased. Cause of death: Hikari’s soft smile when she realizes her big brother managed to help them.

Alternatively, this first pic had killed me on the spot.

FINALLY, we get to see Yamato, and of course, he’s staring down dramatically at Taichi on top of Garurumon like the intense person he is. And, no big deal, there’s a cyber attack in a U.S military base and, uh, apparently the next episode is the 2020 version of Bokura no War Game?!

I— WHAT?!

No pressure, am I right? I don’t know about you, but I’d rather be falling off a good ol’ cliff with my camping buddies.

To be honest, if they intended to end it like this, it felt like this should’ve been a special episode. Maybe one-hour-long or so? Why……….HOW……….. They wanna go from the pilot straight to a Bokura no War game tribute?! The very movie that introduced Omegamon. I swear, if Omegamon’s debut is the SECOND episode, I’m gonna break. How is this gonna work. Well, at least they have us… intrigued?

The ED is so Yamato-focused it’s almost weird that his voice actor isn’t the one singing lmao. That amount of Yamatoness got me by surprise. Some of the pics look like a PowerPoint presentation of CD cover ideas for his yet-to-exist (or not) band… and I say this lovingly, okay? I love him so much.

This is my favorite one!

I lost count of how many times I listened to this song!! It also got me hooked up. What’s up with Takeru and how the writers took the whole Angel aesthetic to a whole new level?! Is he sick? Is he dying? Is this why Yamato is so sad and lonely throughout the ED?????? EVERYONE GO BEFRIEND HIM. I heard he’s a good friend.

Be right back, I’m gonna tattoo this pic to my face.

Bonus commentary!

I bet I wasn’t the only one looking for random cameos whenever they showed us crowds. Didn’t find anyone we know, but I’m sure this will change. 02 characters cameos, I’m ready for you.

Soooooooooo the Tachikawa own a tech company this time?? For all we know they own Japan. That’s scarier than the Diablomon-like virus giving Trump a headache. If so, Mimi is gonna be way more spoiled than before. Oh, dear.

I HOPE WE SEE MORE OF THESE PIXEL BABIES! That was a perfect Easter egg.

If none of these icons at the bottom is the Digimon Analyzer, then what’s the point of my entire existence?

I can’t wait for next Saturday! Even if solely to yell “WHY??????” at my screen.

I can’t thank you enough if you read this far!

#digimon #digimon adventure psi #psi spoilers #bea with the tea #I SPENT THE WHOLE DAY WRITING THIS AND........ IT'S NOT EVEN GOOD.......... OK #long post

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dat-town · 4 years

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7 ways to fall in love | ten

~ casually, over texts

You and Ten had mutual friends, so you had heard a lot about him even before meeting him. You were sure you had briefly met at gatherings but with so many people around, you didn't really have the chance to get to know each other. However, when you were thinking about getting a tattoo, one of your best friends directed you to him for advice.

"Maybe he can even draw you a design. He made his own ones," Xuanyi hummed, mindlessly scrolling through her Instagram feed while you were deeply invested in looking up the best tattoo artists in your area. You glanced up from your laptop screen though when you heard your flatmate’s claim.

"Really?" you raised a brow, curious and impressed, you had always appreciated artists a lot.

You had never seen his tattoos though, so Xuanyi quickly looked him up on social media and searched for a pic to show you. Looking at the details of the figure on his lean arm, you were pretty much convinced that it would be a good idea to at least talk to him. You were still a bit worried about getting your skin inked no matter how long time dream of yours it was, so getting an honest opinion from someone who had first-hand experience would have helped your case.

You: hey. not sure you know me, i'm xuanyi's flatmate. she told me to talk to you if i have questions regarding tattoos.

Ten: heya! sure, i remember you.

Ten: oh~ you want to get a tattoo? cool!

You: yeah, i know what kind i would like to, just not sure where it would be the best and how big, things like that.

It all started like this and before you knew it, you started texting through the night, Ten answering all your worrisome questions about how painful the procedure was, how much it took for the tattoo to heal and not leave a red mark on your skin. He also really liked the idea of your dream tattoo: the traditional Chinese character for strength and the Gladiolus flower representing fighters. You had been through some bad shit in life and this would have been your way of reminding yourself that you had gotten over it, that you had that strength in you, the soul of a fighter, you just needed to believe in that.

When you briefly told Ten about this, he didn't push you to tell more about your past, rather said how cool it was to have such a meaningful tattoo and he recommended a tattoo artist who would do a good job on that in his opinion. He also sent you lots of reference pictures and photos of different styles of tattoos, so you would know your options and somewhere between all the tattoo talk, you started talking about everything else too.

You told him about university classes that stressed you out and your part-time job that you liked but dreamed of something else. He encouraged you to go for your dreams even if they seemed unreachable and for one, he didn't talk bullshit, being an artist himself, he really needed to put himself out there to make enough money without having side-jobs. When you asked, he even sent you some of his illustrations and photos, and you had to admit that he really had an eye for art.

What's more, he himself was art because oh boy, he was such a sight to behold. His series of selfies started out with playful mirror selfies or just snaps of his cats with him in the background. But probably because you weren't protesting about receiving those, he got more daring, sending you one almost on a daily basis and even though some of those were the literal definition of borderline rude and flirty, you didn't stop him. Why would you have, when deep inside, you enjoyed your conversation so much that you were anticipating his texts almost all the time? Even Xuanyi called you out for texting with Ten 24/7 but still not getting that tattoo. But you were getting there!

You didn't even have to ask, Ten offered to draw you a design and you trusted him enough to let him send that to the tattoo artist with whom you had made an appointment even before you would have seen it. Not to mention, he even willingly volunteered to accompany you to be your emotional support and when you were just getting ready to go, you weren't sure whether you were more nervous because of getting a tattoo or finally meeting him in person. But the moment he stepped into the café where you had agreed to meet, you knew you had nothing to be afraid of. He was still the same casual, funny and supportive guy you had gotten to know over texts in the last few weeks.

"Hey! Are you ready?" he walked up to you with a wide smile on his lips and his blonde locks looked even better on him in real life than on the pictures.

"As ready as I can be," you chuckled, sipping on your sweet treat that you needed in order to work up your courage before letting any needle close to your skin.

"Good because I have something for you," he said, fishing his drawing tablet out of his bag and under the sleeve of his shirt, you could catch a glimpse of his tattoo, too. It looked really nice against his somewhat toned skin.

Originally you just wanted a black and whitel line art kind of tattoo but the digital drawing in front of you took your breath away. The Chinese character had the perfect calligraphic strokes and the Gladiolus flower's pink petals that bloomed around it looked watercolor-like. It was beautiful and elegant, yet the meaning was still deeply engraved into every firm stroke of it.

"It's... gorgeous," you breathed when you looked up, finding Ten's coffee brown eyes on you and he seemed visibly relieved hearing your opinion. “Thank you so much.”

"I'm glad you like it. Now let's get it onto you," he winked at you playfully and you involuntarily let out a chuckle.

You talked all the way up to the tattoo parlor and Ten was really good in taking your mind off worrying. Even when you laid on your front, in a strapless bra, getting inked over your bladebone while holding his hand (no, you did not think it over when you asked him to be there with you). But him murmuring soothing words, telling you stories and caressing your palm gently helped you get over even the most painful shading part and it was one hell of a beginning to your story.

7 ways to fall in love masterlist

#wayv scenarios #wayv imagines #wayv drabbles #ten #boyfriend!ten #stories #series: 7 ways

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barnesandco · 4 years

Text

Nikah: January

Story Masterlist

Nikah: noun, Arabic, meaning the contract of marriage.

Bucky marries Peter’s former tutor because her student visa’s about to expire and the government isn’t granting her a green card. Can she find a way to permanent residence by marriage, and if so, will it be at the cost of their hearts?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of grief, war.

A/N: Written under the Arranged/Accidental Marriage trope for @mermaidxatxheart ‘s writing challenge. This story will update on weekends, with two chapters each on Saturdays and Sundays. Tags are open, and for now I’m only tagging those on my permanent list. You can always let me know if you want to be added or taken off of something. I look forward to your comments and hope that you enjoy.

Bucky Barnes did not plan to start the new year as a married man. Not until three weeks ago, when this entire ordeal began. Yet here he is, a gold band on his prosthetic hand that is buried beneath the pillow under his head, while he watches his near-stranger bride sleep next to him. They’ve met in person a grand total of two times, the second being the marriage ceremony itself. Ceremony is an overstatement, he thinks. They eloped. Oh, if his ma could see him now. Bruised and war-torn, reborn from Hydra’s ashes with the marvel of Wakandan technology, married to a woman he hardly knows. And it’s all Peter Parker’s fault.

It had started with his silence. Slowly but surely, the youngest Avenger, known for his jubilant enthusiasm, had become unnervingly quiet.

One week, and they begin to notice. Curious look and additional encouragements to involve him.

Two weeks, and they suspect he misses Tony more than usual. It’s been several months, but the grief comes and goes in waves. Laughter can turn quickly into tears. Bucky’s seen them smile at a joke and turn to the head of the table, or a corner of the room, looking for Tony or Nat’s response respectively, only for the smile to fall at the proof of their absence. They give him time, Sam gives him a talk, and Pepper, an invitation to lunch at the lakehouse.

Three weeks, and they return from a multiple-week mission and brake outside the kitchen like eavesdropping teenagers. The actual teenagers - Peter and Wanda - are inside discussing something. By the distress in Peter’s voice, it’s whatever’s been bothering him recently.

“-but if the student visa doesn’t expire for another year, why is she applying already?” Wanda’s asking from the stove, stirring a Sokovian soup. Peter puts a Tupperware container of extra chopped vegetables in the fridge. Leans on the marble countertop, sighing.

“She suspected that they might reject her. He PhD ends in June so she’s applying for a green card instead, but immigration policies are stricter now. Especially for people from Muslim countries, and she’s Pakistani. It isn’t fair,” He reiterates, tastes the soup. Anything to distract from his shaking hands. Wanda looks on worriedly. “I just mean- like- she’s been living here for almost ten years. She just wants to be a permanent resident. If they don’t let her, she’ll have to go back. She doesn’t want to, but she’ll have to,” He concludes, opening the tap and initiating clean-up.

“And she’s… important… to you,” Wanda states, looking over her shoulder, giving him room to elaborate.

“She helped me with English class and lit in middle school. She was there when Ben died, when Tony died, she’s just been constant, y’know?” He explains. Wanda puts down the wooden spoon, rests a hand on the counter and absorbs her friend’s morose expression.

“So now what?”

“There’s no way they’ll extend her visa. She’ll probably try again for a green card, but I don’t think it’ll work. If she had a steady job, she could apply for a work visa, but she’s freelance. The only other thing I can think of is marriage to a US citizen.”

He hopes it works. The marriage. Green card by family, by marriage, by him vouching for her. The ring is constricting around his finger, a heavy weight reminding of the sanctity of marriage, and how he’s breaching it. He wonders if she feels the same way. At present, she appears unperturbed, lying on her side facing him. The hand bearing the ring is in front of her face, resting on the pillow like a crown on its pedestal. The scarce daylight, just cloudy watercolor, tip-toes through the gap in his blackout curtains, casting a thing stream of moonlight across her face. Snow day.

They had barely made it to his apartment last night before the blizzard hit. She had been quiet then, even more so than now, when he can at least hear her sleep-steady breaths escape the cage built by the pink pillows of her lips. Eyelashes like snowflakes against the bags under her eyes.

The mildly disturbing nature of his actions occurs to him, and he decides to stop. Gets out of bed and tenses when she shifts. The duvet slides down, revealing her white night-gown. Bucky moves, steps as soft and sneaky as fog on the carpet, to her side. Lifts the duvet up to her ching, grazing her silk-clad shoulder in the process. A mumble, and he holds his breath, but thankfully, she stays asleep.

Shutting his - their - bedroom door behind him, he makes for the bathroom first. The shower is scalding hot, and his skin pinks quickly. The Wakandan shampoo is running out. He makes a note to ask Shuri for more, and thinks about what American item to send in return. Dunkin’ Donuts, perhaps.

Coconut goes well with the raspberry scent of his new wife’s body wash, already embedded in the walls because she takes evening showers. Claims they help her sleep. It didn’t help last night, however, because she tossed and turned throughout, only coming to rest around three. Bucky didn’t fare any better, eyes shutting an hour later.

He rinses his hair, the condensation from the steam on his arm washing off. Resumes his morning rituals - conditioner, shower gel, rinse, dry off. As he’s towelling himself dry, he takes in the evidence of her presence once again. The bottle of lotion on the vanity, the make-up removal wipes in the cabinet next to his shaving things. Like this is all perfectly normal.

It is, of course, everything but. You don’t marry someone you don’t know. The gravity of his actions tug on his stomach as he walks past the couch he offered to sleep on. He hadn’t wanted to make her uncomfortable, but she had vehemently refused to kick him out of his own bed. Said she would rather sleep in the snow outside. He’s sure she would have, too, given the excuse, and she would’ve melted the snow into steaming puddles around her, anger coming off red-hot like the sun’s rage.

He lights the stove and fetches the ingredients necessary for pancakes. Opens a recipe on his tablet. Never made them on his own a day in his life - Sam’s are better, but he’ll never tell him that. Something in him just wants to put her at ease. Anyone who cares to look past the stiff demeanor, the jasmine flower in her hair, the reluctant mehndi on her hands, the fire in her eyes, will see resentment. At the government, God, fate, destiny - all scapegoats to blame for putting her in this situation. For reducing her to getting married just to stay in the country she considers home.

Bucky is, too. Resentful, that is. What’s worse is, he doesn’t understand it. Doesn’t understand where the love went. Then he feels guilty, snorts at his own naivete, his blissful ignorance. Lover boy Bucky Barnes. He was never one for politics, he thinks, pouring the first pancake. What little he remembers of his youth wafts up; taking care of Becca, taking care of Steve, taking girls on dates, taking the ship to the war, taking out Nazis. Even in the trenches, where soldiers had a tendency to question Roosevelt, or cuss at Hitler, he’d order them to shut up and shoot. If us fellas were meant to do nothin’ but talk, we’d be in Congress already, but we ain’t. So quit blabberin’ and do your jobs.

The second pancake is on the platter. A door opens somewhere down the hall. He waits, still and patient, as footsteps enter the bathroom and the sound of his sizzling frying pan and running water washes out the anxiety of talking to her. He will have to, at some point or the other. They live together. She had suggested briefly that they not, hadn’t wanted to burden him, but he reminded her of his public image. People would most certainly notice if he wasn’t living with his wife, and then where would they be?

Said wife is now in the kitchen, wringing her hands, the glass bangles - chooriyan - chiming, and he pretends to be unaware.

“James?” This plan doesn’t last very long, and he turns to see that she’s wearing what he would call a tunic if Peter hadn’t taught him it’s a kameez - he’s been giving him desi culture lessons - over a pair of jeans.

“Just Bucky, please. Mornin’. Sleep well?” He returns to the pancakes, blushing at his ineptitude. Tries to convince himself it’s okay, she’s an introvert, too. She’s uncomfortable around new people, too. The pancake tower is now five high.

“You should’ve woken me. Why are you making breakfast by yourself?” She ignores his question, a question he doesn’t know why he asked if he knows the answer to, and comes up to stand next to him at the counter.

“Why would I do that? I can cook, you know,” He says, only half in jest, the joke the first of the day, of the year, of their relationship. She smiles - a reward.

“Yeah, but still…” She trails off, then shakes away what’s troubling her. Bucky files that response under Things to Worry About Later. “I can see that you can cook. A little too well, it seems,” She laughs, gesturing to the sizable stack. “Can you eat five pancakes?” She asks with wonder.

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t eat more than two, and you just flipped your seventh one, so that means you’ll have to-”

“Don’t worry. They’ll be gone before you can say super-metabolism,” He reassures, and she nods dubiously.

“Can I at least set the table?” Bucky looks at her, soft and kind and wise, wishes that she didn’t have to experience this. Forcing a marriage to stay in the place she loves. What has the world come to?

He shows her where the plates are, sets about pulling out various pancake toppings. Syrup, honey, berries, Nutella. She places the plates on the table, brings him the pot of coffee he forgot he made. Finally, they sit. Minutes of utensils colliding and the pancake stack diminishing pass before either of them say anything. She pours him coffee.

“Thanks. You didn’t pour any for yourself,” He says, frowning around a mouthful of blueberries.

“I don’t drink coffee?”

“Tea?”

“Yeah, but-” Bucky begins to get up but she reaches for his hand, chooriyan clinking against the vibranium. “I don’t feel like it today,” She tells him, brushing a strand of dark hair behind her ear.

“You should’ve said something,” He says, upset at not being able to provide for a guest, the guest who’s going to be staying for a while. She shakes her head, spreads Nutella across her second pancake.

“It’s not that big a deal,” She laughs, cutting a piece. “Some days I feel like it and some days I don’t.”

“Okay.”

They finish breakfast in silence, and Bucky drinks more coffee than he should. She’s just picked up the dishes and is picking up a bottle of dish soap when Bucky opens the dishwasher and and takes both the dishes and the soap from her hands. Rinses and stacks them, then looks up at her as he’s drying his hands, still kneeling at the dishwasher. Observes the protest turn to surprise and then to veiled joy, and thinks: they might just make it through this.

Taglist: @suz-123 @mermaidxatxheart @buckyreaderrecs @shield-agent78 @corneliabarnes @readerandcinephileingeneral @stevieboyharrington @notsomellowmushroom @veganfangirl5 @mood-pancakes @lbuck121

#ayesha writes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x desi!reader #desi!reader #bucky x reader fluff #bucky x reader angst #bucky barnes fluff #arranged marriage

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mischiefandi · 4 years

Text

Surprise! - Peter Parker Headcanon

A/N: Peter and Y/N are smol beans and they have a big ass crush on each other and they share a birthday enjoyyy (first head canon ever don't hate me if it sucks dkjgjfhdjgkfj)

Warnings: fluffyyy

Word Count: ??

gif credits -> @underoos-tom <3

Peter and Y/N met in school

they were both in the same Chemistry class, in fact, they were lab partners

Y/N had stayed up all night painting with her new watercolors

so she was absolutely exhausted

so exhausted she ended up falling asleep in class

Peter was seated next to her

they’d briefly exchanged a few words before but they weren’t really friends

still, he couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her, lying across their desk

he tried to pay extra attention in class that day, jotting down as many notes as possible

though he did get distracted a couple times

Y/N was pretty cute

after class he gently nudged her, trying to wake her up without freaking her out too much

she eventually stirred awake, much to his relief

she was embarrassed but he reassured her and handed her the entirety of his notes

Y/N was really touched by the simple gesture

this simple act eventually blossomed into a long-lasting friendship

the pair was inseparable, truly just two peas in a pod

Peter walked Y/N home every day without fail

and every time he smiled widely as he watched her run up to her front door

though he’d never do it in front of her

Y/N was really sweet and funny

she always made him laugh a ton

to the point where he’d choke on his water or fall off a chair

thus only amplifying the fit of laughter for the both of them

she loved hearing his laugh

there was no sound she liked better, it was like music to her ears

months after becoming friends with Peter

Y/N was talking with Ned in the cafeteria

the subject of birthdays arose

and much to her surprise, Ned told her Peter’s birthday was the 10th of August

she nodded but then did a double take, the new information settling in

“His birthday’s the 10th of August?? That’s my birthday too!” she exclaimed

Ned couldn’t help but laugh as Y/N excitedly started planning out a surprise for her friend

“friend”

“FRIEND”

he watched her jot down ideas on a pad and his eyes lit up as he came up with a surprise of his own

it didn’t take long before he told Peter he and Y/N shared a birthday

Peter was completely bewildered

what a strange coincidence

fate?

please, fate’s not actually real

is it?

Peter just couldn’t help but feel like maybe, somehow, this was a sign

a sign he should surprise her too

with a special declaration

maybe?

Ned helped him come up with a whole speech

he even gave him advice on what to wear for the occasion

months passed and both Y/N and Peter could barely contain their excitement

they were happy their birthday was coming up

but more importantly

they couldn’t wait to surprise the other

Peter memorised his little speech over and over again

terrified of messing it up

she deserved only the best

and when he was nervous

he rambled

a lot

and that wasn’t the best

Y/N on the other hand

she had spent hours in her room painting

it was what she did best

and Peter was worth the best

she couldn’t wait for him to see what she had so carefully crafted for him

Ned found the whole situation hilarious

both of his friends kept sneaking behind each other’s backs

Peter didn’t know Y/N knew

Y/N didn’t know Peter knew

make sense?

Ned felt extremely proud of himself

he was the mastermind behind the entire ordeal

guy in the chair’s a cool title, but mastermind’s even cooler

summer finally rolled around

and July flew by in a flash

finally it was the day

the 10th of August

the day both Y/N and Peter had planned for so long

Y/N shot out of bed, grinning from ear to ear

she celebrated with her parents, blowing out the candles at breakfast

Peter woke up in a pool of sweat

he was so nervous

today was the day

the day he was finally going to tell her how much he liked her

you know

as a friend

“fRiEnD”

after opening Aunt May’s gifts

and after giving her a huge bear hug

he got dressed, even added some gel to his hair

though it looked weird

so he washed it out

Y/N slipped on a lovely sundress, one she had heard Peter compliment when he thought she wasn’t listening

she smiled to herself as she remembered his blush

he was sure to love it

slipping her gift for him in her bag

she ran out of her house

the pair had agreed to meet up at Central Park

their usual hangout spot with Ned

speaking of Ned

he sent a text to Peter, giving him some final words of encouragement before the big moment

Peter shakily walked over to the bridge where Y/N was patiently waiting for him

this was it

“Peter!” she called out

he ran over to her, the corners of his lips curling into a grin at the sight of her

she always looked so pretty in that dress

“Do you know what day it is?”

“Yeah, do you?”

“Yeah.”

“Wait.”

“It’s your birthday.”

“And yours!”

“You knew??”

“I’ve known for months!”

the pair laughed, the sudden realisation dawning on them

Ned had played them both

“Happy birthday, Peter!” Y/N exclaimed, pulling him into a hug, and his heart swelled as he inhaled her sweet perfume

“Happy birthday, Y/N”

“I have a surprise for you.”

“So do I.”

“You go first!”

“No, no, you!”

Y/N smiled widely and reached for the present hidden away in her bag

she took it out and gave it to him

Peter couldn’t believe his eyes

she had painted him

correction

she had painted them both, sitting on a bench together, watching the sun go down

they were holding hands

Peter blushed a deep crimson and let out a warm chuckle

“This is amazing, Y/N. You’re crazy talented.”

“I wanted to paint you something, cus that’s how I express my feelings.”

“Your feelings?”

Y/N shyly tucked a stray hair behind her ear, avoiding his gaze

“Yeah…”

“Y/N, I have a surprise too”

Peter suddenly couldn’t remember his speech

but he didn’t need to

he knew exactly what to say

correction

he knew exactly what to do

he suddenly closed the distance between them, planting a soft kiss on her lips and Y/N’s heart stopped

he was kissing her

Peter

was kissing her

the Peter she cared about more than anyone else in the world

the Peter she couldn’t help but dream about

she kissed him back eagerly, slipping her fingers through his curls

after a while they pulled away, forehead against forehead

“that was quite the surprise.”

“it’s been a long time coming.”

Y/N giggled and Peter thanked his lucky stars

best

birthday

ever

A/N: hihi this was definitely not inspired by Peter and my birthday lol nooo, hope y'all like it :))

if you would like to be added to my taglist(s), feel free to fill in this form

Peter tag:

@stiles-o-dylan24 @duskholland @mersuperwholocked-lowlife @r0s3mm @hcomet28 @decaffeinated--fangirl

Forever tag:

@stixnstripesworld @masterofbluff @drakewalker04 @superapplepie

#peter parker #spiderman #mcu #marvel #Peter Parker x reader #Peter Parker x y/n #Peter Parker fanfiction #Peter Parker headcanon #headcanon #Spiderman far from home #spiderman homecoming #spidey #tom holland #fanfiction #v writes #hope u liked it hihi #happy bday to us baby :)

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geirskogull · 3 years

Text

Empty Mirror and Empty Grave

+ Notes: A Short Vampire the Masquerade AU for Danica and Alex, This is Chapter 1 of 4 for this series, from the point of view of the newly embraced Lasombra Alexander Voss for this first chapter.

Chapter 1 - The Same Deep Water as You

Archive Link

Icy water splashed hard against an even cooler face, a shaky exhale followed as the water pooled a tepid rusty pink in the ceramic bowl of the sink. Strange, what living habits clung to a dead man’s body, like memories fused to him with glue that spurned him to tears, yet twisted the salty brine that would have flowed from his eyes to a sickly vital red.

Alexander thought then that he should be laughing. That he should be cackling in victory over those who attempted to see him for their own personal gain, his father, his grandfather, this new vampiric patron who called himself sire. Yet his mind recognized in this end he was once again the true victim, but neither his mind nor his heart could contort the man’s memories to make them spell that out for him. Stubborn as always. Just like his sister.

If he hadn’t known of the particularities of this curse, his curse, he may have tried to rationalize the ashy smudge that greeted him instead of his own tired, gauntface in the mirror. It would have been in vain, as he knew better, he knew mirrors didn’t break like that. Hell he probably would have spent hours trying to scrub clean imaginary grime just to see his dead mossy green eyes. He always thought the color of rot suited him. Beyond that mournful rumination though, he also knew without his reflection, he looked a right mess if his sire, that figure of ruthlessness and shadows he met only a handful of times, counting his own death, saw him like this his new eternity would be over before it even began.

So he returned to those empty habits he had once relied upon so much, inhaled deeply, straightened his shoulders, and ran cold hands across his face to remove the bloody tears tracks that dug their way there as best as he could with a smudgy mess as his guide. Another splash of water just in case, and another for good measure, and then a third till the pool was clear and he was sure the relics of his weakness swirled down the drain, relics of shame he would never share. If he is to live forever, he would not allow it to be in vain.

“What do you want with me?” Terse words from an estranged sister echoed through his memory as he dried his face. “Arn’t you afraid dear old dad’ll axe you too, Alex?” She had hissed across a tiny café table that was more splinters held together with gorilla glue than actual wood then. Cross legged, angry and closed off, as he expected, but with sharp green eyes and new scars he didn’t remember being there last time he saw her. Those five years had changed them both so much. Then, he wondered if there was still anything left to save, left to salvage of their friendship.

He laughed then, a bitter biting thing that painted fear across his twin sister’s face, only to be replaced with sadness once its teeth were fully in her skin. A heavy silence hung around them in it’s wake, as if his cooling tea and her hot chocolate turned glorified chocolate milk were iron weights around their legs, dragging them to the ocean floor.

He threw a clean black dress shirt over his shoulders and began to button it. Blinking away fresh bloody tears that threatened to spill over his still damp cheeks and the bittersweet memory in equal measure. As the visage of her hand reaching across that rough wooden sea to grasp his own terrified digits swelled in his minds, he paused.

“I’ve missed you so much, Dee.” Whispered words repeated from those recollections to nothing but the cold empty air around him. He dug his teeth into his lips, for he feared he was on the verge of sobbing once more. Once was more than enough for a night, thank you.

Oh if only he hadn’t traveled to this damn city on the guise of looking for school,only to actually be looking for her. If only he had taken the token acceptances thrown his way by those big name medical schools, all thanks to their father’s well placed donations and not in any way thanks to the intellect he believed he had. If only he hadn’t spent every cent he earned on his own looking for his best friend that had been chased from their childhood by the bastard that sired them both, guilty only of the crime of dreaming.

Perhaps then, they would still be truly alive.

And not one unbreathing corpse masquerading as a living man, and the other...

He dabbed a cold hand against his eyes, fearing the weakness of his resolve. Now is not the time to reflect, Alexander. He chastised himself bitterly, his own tone harsh. And even if it was, what would she think, seeing you now? Seeing you like this? A broken shell of a broken shell, huddling in his home not even willing to try this new gift out.

She’d tell him to relax, to lighten up. She’d ask about his class work and bring one of the animals she was fostering to sit on his lap. That’s how he ended up with Minet, wasn’t it? A loud meow near his feet confirmed his idle musings. Red eyes looking down into one cat-like yellow one, upon a sea of black fur interrupted only by a terribly gaudy red collar and its pretty little bell.

The vampire sniffled, kneeling down and giving the kitten a faint but honest grin. Ah his dear little constant. He found himself drawing his cold hands through soft fur and humming gently as the small cat began to purr.

“Ah, so deep in my melancholy I forgot the most important job in my days!” A chuckle echoed in the cool air, and was answered by another dignified meow. “Yes, yes, I know. Food is late, let’s go my dear one.”

“He’s friendly Alex, I promise.” Danica chuckled, her sing songy voice not exactly inspiring confidence, as she held a small black bundle of fur and claws close to her chest. He hadn’t even looked up then, far too stressed out over his classwork, a med student more anxiety and coffee than flesh and blood at the present. He had more in common with the scattered cups of the stuff over his sisters home that he did her at the moment. \

“Last time I checked, tiny felines were not a requirement for me to pass my finals.” He had snipped up at her then, only to be met in turn with a very loud, very squeaky, and most definitely disappointed meow. Thankfully it was jarring enough to force the crooked man to right his posture and gaze at the single defiant eye of the feline now held ungracefully out towards him.

"It's not, but it'll be good for what remains of you after said finals big brother"

"I'm only like two minutes older , Dee."

"And that's the first time you haven't lorded it over me, now hold the damn cat and relax Alex."

The loud, metallic jingle of kibble into a custom red bowl, the same shade as that tacky collar, rescued the dead man from the clutches of his memories once more. Following suit was a very content and loud purr from the aforementioned Minet, King of the Flat, as he completely forgot about Alexander, Owner of the Flat, and dove straight into his food with a vigor he showed little else. Another shakey, yet unneeded, exhale left the vampire. This time at least sounding something akin to a weak wheezy chuckle and not a barely restrained sob.

Good kitty.

Very good kitty.

Alexander Voss gave the fluffy menace a few polite yet ignored pats before standing and facing his evening once again. He did have orders after all, and what else had he been his entire life but a loyal, dutiful, gopher for his father and his father’s goals. Why would that change in death?

The comedy was not lost on him, given the orders this time were “Go, enjoy yourself for a night.” As if he even knew where to start! A bitter laugh erupted from him, consuming the silence of the apartment like a mad hungry flame. Lingering in the expanse of once pleasant memories, turning them to ash in his mouth, was definitely not a good start.

But he would not fail, not again. Not at any task.

So even with the added “difficulty” of not being able to see himself in the mirror, he silently swore to his reflection that he would forge himself anew of black shadowy steel. He would be a tool for himself, not for this new vampiric father he found himself beholden to, not for the visible ghosts of his first victims and the invisible ghost of his sister, but for himself. A revolutionary statement in his mind that would take some getting used to, and a great deal of planning to accomplish.

With the weight of his memory as the ink upon the paper of his oath, and the cold wind beyond his door the dust sprinkled upon it, he now just needed to find the wax and the stamp and it would be eternal.. As he twisted the polished silver door handle of the apartment, he closed his eyes. A stillness taking him as he silently considered this new plan brewing in the blackness in his mind.

He shoots a careful glance back at Minet over his shoulder as the cold winter wind knocked at his coat and mussed his long, unkempt ponytail. The one eyed feline, for his part, licked at his paws absently, full from his regal meal and oblivious to his servants troubles.

“I’ll be back.”

His words were largely ignored, but the flittering familiar shades at the edge of his vision seemed to nod, almost in approval. Strange from such stern faces, barely perceivable in the messed watercolor of their forms, but still uniquely themselves.

Facing forward, he inhaled, the last act of his old dying world, and faced a new beginning.. A pang of thirst in his gut forced a strange wolfish smile upon his face, sharp toothed and hungry. First goal of the evening, of his first free night, find a drink.

He would need the energy for what he had planned.

#vampire the masquerade #vtm #Empty Mirrors and Empty Graves #Chapter 1

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ficsandcatsandficsandcats · 4 years

Note

Helllooo May i request a fic where the reader is an art student in the university of oxenfurt and Jaskier come in as a model one day. She falls in love with him immidiatally and just cant stop painting pictures about him. Later Jask visits her in her studio and see all the stuff about himself. Then love confession( maybe he's been writing songs about her) and some soft kissing😇

Fandom: The WitcherPairing: Jaskier x ReaderWord Count: 2,099Rating: TTaglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak @whatevermonkey @mynamesoundslikesherlock @magic-multicolored-miracle @writingstudent @mlleecrivaine @coffee-and-stories @ultracolorfulnerdcollection @astouract @your-not-invisible-to-me @kemmastan a/n: This was a lovely prompt, I hope you like what I did with i!

“Hmm… I don’t think you’ve quite captured me.”

You shook your head and a little smile turned up the corner of your mouth but you kept your eyes focused on your canvas.

“You are supposed to be a model and models don’t speak,” you murmured quietly.

“I’m so bored though.”

You glanced up at the man who posed in front of you. Jaskier was hunched over, chin resting on his fist. He looked more pouting than pensive as he was supposed to be but the moment your eyes met, he perked up a bit.

There was no one else in the art studio since it was after hours, class having ended long ago. You’d been sick one day and Jaskier had graciously volunteered to come by and help you catch up on what you’d missed. You were in week three of the “month long strip tease” as he called it, taking a layer off each time. This week he was down to a loosely untucked chemise, sleeves rolled up to the elbows and pants whose laces were undone but still rested just at the hip. Boots were long gone, leaving him barefoot. Indeed, if anyone who walked by the doors saw him in his attire and you, a bit sweaty with disheveled hair, tired after a long day of classes made longer by this extra work, they would have assumed something unsavory was happening. They would have been tragically mistaken.

“You didn’t have to agree to this. Hell, it was your idea,” you reminded him, extending the handle of your paintbrush to gently position his chin back to where it was supposed to be. He playfully nipped at the brush but then moved back into position dutifully.

“Hmm, yes, and why do you suppose I did that?” he asked. It was the same flirtatious tone he used with everyone and you knew that, but still you felt a little shiver of excitement at the tone. Perhaps one day someone would use that with you and mean it but it wouldn’t be Jaskier, the traveling bard with a thousand muses around the globe. He had no need for a simple art student with barely enough life experiences to count on one hand. That would change when you graduated, though. You were determined. Though as the day came closer you grew more anxious about those barely conceived plans.

“You are a patron of the arts of course,” you replied, mixing the shades of blue together. You’d known the first day he walked into the classroom that those eyes would torment you as you tried to create the right shade to capture them. You knew you’d never feel you truly got it right and so far you’d been correct. You’d made far more paintings than the three you’d done for class. In your personal studio you had what appeared to be a shrine to the bard. You just couldn’t get him out of your head and your fingers itched constantly to paint him again, to try and capture his likeness better, more accurately.

“I suppose that must be it,” Jaskier said in somewhat plaintive tone. Yet when you looked back at him again he gave you a little wink and you stopped worrying, rolling your eyes again and setting to get the portrait done.

You were finished before another hour passed and though he tried to catch a glimpse you successfully hid it from him.

“I offered you a deal,” you said, “You show me the song you’ve been working on and I’ll show you the painting that I’m working on. A fair trade of artistic sampling.”

“Perhaps another time,” he said, “May I walk you home?”

Since meeting in that first class nearly a month ago the pair of you had struck up an easy friendship. In truth you felt much more than that for him but you were happy just for the chance to talk with him, much less anything else. He was brilliant and funny and endlessly encouraging. When you told him of your dreams of traveling he’d insisted that you do it and even offered to introduce you to some nobles who had a keen eye for artists they wanted to support. In all of that time, though, you’d never seen each other away from the sprawling campus of Oxenfurt University.

“Alright,” you said a little reluctantly, nervous but also unwilling to pass up a single opportunity to spend more time with him. He gallantly offered you his arm and the pair of you walked through the streets. It was twilight and lamplighters were roving about to light the lanterns that would keep you safe as you walked, the skies bathed in a soft golden and pink watercolor.

“Are you excited to be finishing classes soon?” Jaskier asked.

“I should be,” you said. He laughed, but not unkindly. It was a laugh of understanding.

“I felt much the same when I approached graduation,” he said, “Sometimes I think that’s why I come back so often to lecture and just visit. I felt safe here.”

“Do you not feel safe out there?” you asked.

“No. But that’s part of the fun of it, right? The uncertainty, the potential for danger which makes it exciting,” he mused.

“I suppose so… But I do wish there was a way to both have adventures and be safe or at least feel safer,” you replied.

“Travelling with a witcher has helped a bit. You’re much harder to kill with one around,” he said.

“You’re also the target of more attacks though,” you countered. You’d heard him tell stories about his adventures to breathless students but you hadn’t joined in on their glee. Instead you’d grown more and more worried about the bard’s safety and whether you’d ever see him again once he’d left the school to join Geralt on his next hunt.

“Well there’s always a tradeoff,” Jaskier said glibly. You walked in silence for a time and when you reached your home you realized that at some point during the walk your hooked elbows had slid down to clasped hands. You both noticed at the same time and laughed a little nervously.

“Would you like some tea?” you offered instinctively, not wanting the moment to end. Jaskier eagerly agreed and followed you into your house. It was a humble place but he praised it as though it were a mansion, and he’d likely seen many in his time. Hell, as a viscount, perhaps he had even been raised in one.

“Make yourself at home,” you called as you walked to the little kitchen to get the fire going. Jaskier didn’t need telling twice, already walking around the room, looking at book titles and little drawings. He smiled at what appeared to be an early art piece of yours that had been lovingly framed by a family member, a drawing scrawled by a child that seemed to be… a dog? An elephant? Some animal. He continued to walk through the little house, glancing into the open door of your bedroom. There was a closed door and though he knew you probably would rather he didn’t, he couldn’t fight back his curiosity and opened the door.

—–

“Jaskier? Tea is ready! Jaskier?” you walked back into the little living area and saw no sign of him. You poked your head down the hall and almost walked back away, thinking he may have left suddenly, and then you saw a sliver of light coming from the door you knew had been closed. Your heart leapt to your throat and you ran towards it as though you could outpace what had already occurred.

There stood Jaskier, staring at a portrait you’d most recently completed, surrounded by sketches. Not all were of his entire face or body but you knew that he knew exactly whose disembodied hands and eyes and mouth and other randomly positioned angles of body they were.

“Fuck, ok, I can explain,” you began, heart beating a mile a minute. Jaskier turned to look at you but you didn’t see fear or disgust, just a soft look of surprise.

“Y/N?” he said.

He was giving you the chance to explain like you said you would but no words came to mind. You just stared at him blankly, panicking, feeling the walls close in around you.

“I think… I may be able to help,” he said. He walked past you and you waited to hear the front door open and close as he left, possibly to get the guards but most likely just to escape you. But then you heard him walk back, holding the leather notebook he drew in often but never showed you. He opened it to a page and handed the book to you, a nervous, expectant look in his pale, blue eyes. You took it with trembling fingers and at first you weren’t sure why he was showing it. Perhaps he thought that he should offer some exchange of art since he’d seen yours. Maybe he somehow didn’t recognize the man in the pictures as himself. Maybe this could all blow over and be nothing.

And then you saw your name.

“Jaskier what is this?” you asked, flipping the pages and finding more descriptions, not with your name specifically, but of a woman who sounded unmistakably like yourself.

“This is the bardic version of what this room shows, I believe,” he said, his voice soft, “They’re pieces dedicated to someone I have fallen very much in love with over the last few weeks.”

Your wide eyes tore away from the journal to meet Jaskier’s. Now he was the one who looked uncertain and scared, waiting for you to run from him.

“You don’t think it’s weird then?” you asked, gesturing to the room as you placed the journal on a shelf nearby, hands trembling too much to keep a secure hold of it.

“Oh no, it’s very weird. But love makes you do weird things. Like fill a journal full of half-formed songs about someone or stay late to pose for paintings or snoop in rooms you know you shouldn’t because you just can’t resist getting every little bit of them you can,” he replied, moving a bit closer and gently brushing his fingers against your cheek. Though he’d thrown on his doublet again the chemise was still unbuttoned and you rested your hands against his chest, fingers twining in the dark hair.

“Whoever said anything about love?” you teased, “I could just be incredibly enamored or perhaps a very artistic murderer.”

“Well I was speaking for myself mostly,” he answered, “But you’re right. I should be concerned. Shall I call Geralt to defend me against you and your wicked brush?”

“Ooh watch out, Jaskier, don’t sass me! You may find yourself having a brush with death,” you said, emphasizing the pun unnecessarily. Jaskier groaned and shook his head.

“Shut up and kiss me before I change my mind.”

You opened your mouth to make some other, terrible joke but he stopped you with a kiss, mouth brushing against yours with the barest touch but you recaptured his lips with yours and felt him card his hand through your hair as yours tightened against his chest. His kisses were soft and tender and nothing like what you’d expected the renowned rogue to offer but then the people who spread those rumors hadn’t known him like you did.

“Come with me,” Jaskier whispered against your lips.

“What?” you breathed back. His eyes found yours and you were struck again by the puzzling color. Was it blue? Or was it grey? Was it even the same thing all the time or did they change on you? You would spend the rest of your life trying to figure it out but oh what a happy quest.

“When you graduate you said you want to travel the world. You’re graduating soon. Come with me when you do. I’ll take you everywhere. I’ll show you the world. I can’t promise to keep you safe, there is always a tradeoff, but I will do everything I can and I promise you it won’t be boring,” he replied, words spoken in a hushed tone like someone offering a fervent prayer. You considered his words, thinking about the risks but more than that, thinking about the things that are worth taking risks for. And the people.

“Ok,” you breathed in response, “Yes. Take me with you. Show me everything.”

“Oh love,” he said, licking his lips which quirked into a wicked grin, “You don’t have to ask me twice.”

#Anonymous #jaskier x reader #jaskier drabbles #jaskier imagines #jaskier fluff #reader request

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