#i mean its fine i designated this class at the beginning of the semester as the one id let myself get a b in

[kyarbrougharts102-06]

Designing A Start

“...designers tend to expect the rest of the world to be as visually sophisticated as they are, and [are] disappointed when they aren’t.” ~ Michael Bierut

As a person oriented around the world of Literature and Art, the tiniest details in everyday life can sprout and bud into multiple, different meanings that can be reproduced into various, colorful perceptions. 

Fine Arts has always been a point of reference in how my life is dictated and influenced. From the very beginning, my fascination for artistic media operated and stemmed from my first cognitive encounter with the medium—movies. The very first movie I watched was “How To Train Your Dragon” and from the year 2010, the year when I was simply five, I would continue to draw the movie’s main dragon, Toothless the Night Fury, until late in my ninth-grade year; when I was asked by an exasperated peer if he was all I drew.

As disheartening as the moment initially was, It was a sobering wake-up call that eventually proved beneficial for my overall pursuit in the medium. My perception of the world tends to clash with my peers and the people who do not harbor this fixation with me. I can go on and on about the beautiful dragon concepts and designs from “How To Train Your Dragon” or the world and dialogue from “Wings Of Fire,” a book I adored; but the intensity of my passion can be intimidating and I find it rare that people nurture the same fire as I do, leaving me feeling dejected and isolated sometimes. 

As previously stated, this reality is disappointing but I have grown to learn with the world, and for it, I’m grateful as the recent years have pushed me to brave new components of Fine Arts, such as poetry, storyboarding, animation,—but most importantly, Graphic Design.

My interest in Graphic Design ironically started in ninth grade, the same year I was forced to reevaluate my use of art and drawing. My High School had a Design program where I became accustomed to Photoshop, Illustrator, and Indesign—predominantly the former. It wasn’t until eleventh grade that I was pushed further out of my comfort zone and learned to work more intimately with Illustrator, where I made my first logo for the school’s club.

Moving states between High School left a brief interlude with Adobe and after a year gap of getting accustomed to Procreate, I was suddenly thrust back into the arms of Photoshop for my first semester in College, where I additionally had to face an unexpected encounter with AI.

For my first lesson in “Design Technology and Concepts,” I was not expecting to run into Artificial Intelligence so soon. With the subject being so controversial, I had my reservations about the program, Craiyon, an AI art generator. The accessibility to technology brings the risk of designers being devalued as clients expect “that technology should make everything very inexpensive,” as stated by Lynda Decker, a New York City–based graphic designer, in “Becoming A Graphic & Digital Designer.” Like many people in the industry, I suppose I find myself threatened by the possible adverse advancements that come with the development of AI in business, leading to an almost possessive territorial feeling. 

Craiyon generates multiple artificial pieces in relation to prompts users input into the generator tab where, with just one click of a button, art is made. For my first project in my design class, we were originally tasked with creating two “Six Word Memoirs'' that represent us as people. With a preexisting interest in poetry, I was content with the direction of turning those memoirs into poems and going from there. The tricky part presented itself when it came time to actually play with Craiyon. Ai, in itself, is a fascinating advancement that can be incredibly useful and engaging but ultimately every pro has its cons. I found the first setback when casually typing my first poem as my prompt:

“Existing here, existing there, existing nowhere.”

The results were unique but not quite what I desired. The nine images generated were mostly bright-colored eye candy that was striking to see as thumbnails, but when enlarged, the details were stripped of their quality.

Out of the first nine images on screen, this one stood out to me the most. While, yes, it remained brighter in saturation, the image was ultimately different from the rest as it maintained a type of simplicity and uniqueness that stood out to me. I was fairly curious about the design but when compared to its larger size, a lot was left to be desired. The picture itself was transformed into a blurry mess with the expanded details losing their appealing touch. It was as if the ophthalmologist had sat me down in a chair and changed my lens in the ophthalmoscope.

This odd feature remained apparent for all generations and no matter how many upscales executed, the image was still lacking the quality expressed in its smaller scale. Resolution is a big deal for me as I am picky and if things don’t look right, I get caught up on those smaller things. With no immediate solution in mind, I had to cut my losses and resign myself to the quality the app had to offer.

I found Craiyon to be sensitive in other areas as well, as the program is very picky just like me. To get the best results, prompts must be detailed and complex. If you want something similar to paint strokes, the program won’t let you get away with simply stating “Make something about existence using paint strokes.” It will be more beneficial to get descriptive, distinguishing what kind of paint strokes: watercolors, oils, gouache, etc.

It was even more frustrating when I found myself constantly having to rewrite my prompts as each image took at least one minute to finally generate. Waiting sixty seconds for each prompt grows tedious when your prompt is one word away from potentially being the image you want. As Lynda stated, “Technology fabricates; it facilitates, but it is not a substitute for ideation and creativity. While I spent the majority of time scrolling through images I liked, a great deal of effort and care had to be placed into the generator to find the piece I liked. Without the person, AI art can’t function, and even when it does, problems continue to arise. 

My second image was a fine treasure that, while wasn’t what I was necessarily looking for, came as a pleasant surprise nonetheless. And like all treasure, it was incredibly taxing to find. I didn’t know exactly what I was looking for but I knew what I wanted: a piece that was unique and engaging with a style similar to the outgoing duology of “Into The Spiderverse” and “Across The Spiderverse.”

Both movies physically wowed me and have held a tight influence ever since 2018. The “Spiderverse” movies were a spectacle that sweat and bled passion, and I wanted that message—that feeling—to transfer into my image from my poem. However, with “Spiderverse” being so unique and ambitious, putting each frame and the individual essence they all had into words was beyond a charged task for me. 

Luckily Craiyon has it so that users can view and copy similar images generated by other people, tacking on the specific prompt that the images were generated from. One of my alternatives was something of a physical painting, where the prompt had “oil paint knife strokes.” The colors were a mix of blues, golds, and brunos. While interesting, the colors didn’t match the feeling I wanted but the description intrigued me and I decided to incorporate the words into my prompt.

My poems go hand in hand with one another, basically describing the same thing with a different connotation—just things spun a little differently. The core concept was to depict the grief and turmoil that comes with daydreaming, existing in reality while existing in fantasy, a consistent problem I’ve struggled to cope with. What initially started with swarms of gummy and sugary-looking visuals soon warped into something less conceptual and more loose and abstract.

I like the implications of the image. The splatters gave a sense of disarray and the darker colors provided an interesting contrast to the original image I chose for my first poem. My thoughts can be chaotic and jumbled on most days, and while I tend to find my mind occupied by various art and their scenarios, indulging in the media relaxes me. Drawing, painting, writing, etc. When I’m in the zone, the world falls silent and I am at my most content state.

The picture may seem gloomy but I find the lack of vibrancy to give a cool, calming feel as it's easier on the eyes. I can see how the image could be creepy or intimidating, just like art, but I’m not overwhelmed by it and I find myself just sitting down to marvel at it like I would a piece in a sketchbook. And I decided the image would do and I matched it with my poem.

“The Paint Heals, The Sketchbook Runs.”

Finding the right Typography for both poems was a more pleasurable endeavor as I had already been familiar with Photoshop’s plethora of fonts. I enjoy looking through all the options and exploring the different fonts.  Each font is unique in its own way and I had ideas on how I wanted both Memoirs to go.

With the first image, I wanted to make the most of the colors. Depicting the process of daydreaming with a lighter tone since the colors were more vibrant. I liked the idea of maintaining an inconsistent pattern to match the way my brain inconsistently works.

A few complications sprung up when trying to connect the colors to the palette presented in the original image. With the resolution being of lower quality, trying to decipher the more optimal color between the yellow of the upper left image and the red to match the blurry outline of the said corner was fairly challenging. 

I found myself getting frustrated with the quality once more. Eventually, I settled myself with the idea that the image wasn’t going to be perfect once more and kept the top left color yellow.

With the second image’s Typography, I was interested in finding a font that matched the paint textures. Unfortunately, the fonts available didn’t have the runny, drip-like streaks I wanted. Things also grew more complicated as I liked the idea of having the second image’s text correlate to the colors given by the image. 

By scrolling down Photoshop’s given font options, I narrowed down the fonts I liked, working around the indecisiveness by determining what I thought looked best when the text was white. It was harder utilizing the other colors like black, garnet, and deep teals because the lower tones made it harder to read. However, I was adamant about keeping at least one word of the memoir a different color and I felt it would be clever to make the last word of the poem another color to put more emphasis on it.

This was a complicated task because no matter what color was picked, the result was either hard to read or the text looked out of place. Black made it unintelligible as well as the teals, and when I finally decided to give the little splatters of Goldenrod yellow a try, I thought the result looked atrocious.

I was more receptive to the garnet but picking the darker shade of red still left it hard to read and lightening the color only made the text seem inappropriate. Frustrated, I decided to duplicate the text, recolor the bottom layer black, and add an effect to make a subtle outline when I moved its position below the red text. It wasn’t perfect but I left it as was, mildly questioning for the piece’s legibility.

During the presentation, my concerns were proven legitimate as many classmates informed me the red text made the word, “runs,” hard to see. One peer said they didn’t even recognize the word was present until I actually read my poem out loud.

I was given many pointers to potentially point me in the right direction. Someone suggested I could make the word black and emphasize the text with a red outline or vice versa. I was suggested to try out teal again and experiment with the shading and placement of the text on the image. All in all, I found everyone’s advice informative and helpful, even little details such as my peers informing me what they thought worked. 

As an aspiring Graphic Designer, I’d say it helped me understand why reflection and communication are so important in the profession. Everyone’s opinions matter as they influence each other in the future. 

#graphic design #Photoshop #Adobe #College Blog

[mooniefics]

in the grand scheme of things [ 3 ]

pairings : zeke jaeger / reader, referenced eren jaeger / reader

word count : 5.5k

tags : unhealthy relationships, relationship discussions, implied cheating, drinking, break ups, mutual infidelity, dubious morality, love triangles

warning : descriptions of alcohol and drug use

summary : you and eren hadn't been doing the best these past few months, and no one that you knew seemed to have any answers for you, or pointers in the right direction. who better to offer you some sound, insightful relationship advice than his older brother. or so you thought.

— originally posted 1 / 28 / 21 on ao3 —

✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ:  *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ:*·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ:*

sasha  3:47 pm hey u down to party tonight?? jean told connie he could get us into another one of the azo parties again

you sighed at the sight of the notifications on your phone from its place on the passenger's seat, pensively drumming your fingers on your steering wheel. the most recent party of the most popular fraternity chapter on your campus you'd attended had been the last party you'd subjected yourself to attending—the halloween party where you'd gotten ditched out and subsequently cheated on. though you could admit that it had been fun in the moment, especially when you had caught the struggle between sasha and historia when she saw your roommate snap a picture of her kissing the standoffish sophomore that always helped her with her english lit homework, ymir, rather than the fraternity guy she was meant to be with.

the memory of that night, at least the time before you'd realized your boyfriend and his annoyingly attractive best friend were nowhere to be found, made you consider. classes did start back up next week, and the most eventful thing you'd done over the break was your quaint little family get-together for new year's eve—and your two rendezvous with zeke, meetings that you were slowly beginning to feel more and more skeptical about as time went on—and you were sure that your second semester would drown you in work just as much—if not more—than you'd had in your first semester. so as soon as you came to a stop at a red light, you picked your phone up to shoot her back a message, laughing to yourself when she replied instantly.

               you  3:51 pm party on a wednesday?                            really?

sasha   3:51 pm come onnnn please??? i heard nikos gonna be there! ur rlly gonna make me go all alone??

so that was why she wanted to go, to see the foreign culinary major that somehow always managed to send her back to the dorm with a large plate of food and a blinding smile plastered on her face for at least the next hour. you were honestly surprised that they hadn't gotten together yet, considering how many common interests they'd shared.

a pleasant thought suddenly popped into your head, the thought that she was probably asking you because mikasa had already declined, meaning that she wouldn't be in attendance. armin was out in turkey with eren, ensuring his absence. that fact made you feel a bit less anxious about accepting sasha's invitation. you could catch up with the friends you'd been unable to see while you were off-campus—or too swamped with work to be able to reach out to—let loose one last time before you were trapped back in the monotonous cycle of working, sleeping, crying, and eating for the next couple months until spring break. your mind had been made up.

                          you  3:52 pm    fine. i'll go as moral support. but no promises u won't have  to babysit after you've had ur                          fun with nikolo  this break has been rough for                                       me lol

sasha  3:53 pm oh god my i loveyou so much already picking out our outfits

you chuckled to yourself, slipping your phone into the cupholder as the brake lights of the car in front of you flashed off and you eased your foot onto the gas. you made it back to the dorm relatively quickly, sasha more than elated to see you even though you didn't have any food to bring back for her. and just as her text message had read, she'd already laid out one of your nicer dresses and a set of heels that didn't absolutely kill your feet by the end of the night by your bed, digging through the closet with a pile of discarded clothes growing on the floor.

"thanks sash," you giggled, "but don't you think it's a little to be getting ready? what time's the party?"

"connie told me seven-thirty, but jean said for us to come an hour later so we aren't the only ones there." she spoke over her shoulder, huffing as she tossed another piece of clothing aside, "but i wanna look good! i'm gonna hop in the shower as soon as i find the right thing to wear."

holding out your dress before you, you frowned. it was simple, black and made of a sheer, clingy material with lace accents decorating the low neckline, thin straps that bared the entirety of your shoulders and a modest amount of cleavage. it was one of your favorites, but the half-healed bruises scattered across the skin that would be exposed by it wasn't ideal.

"oh, don't forget to take a cheap coat that you don't mind forgetting. it's kinda chilly out, and i always end up losing track of mine during the night."

you let out a breath of relief, remembering that covering up a bit more would be weather appropriate. "yeah, i'll wear a long-sleeved undershirt and something light on top." perfect.

you waited until sasha had gathered her toiletries and scurried off to the nearest bathroom to change clothes, feeling your face heat up at the thought of zeke, the initial deep pigmentation having faded out over the last two days but still a very visible shade of faint red. you were fully dressed upon your roommate's return, earning an excited slew of compliments from her as she wrapped up her hair in a towel and settled down beside you to get started on her makeup.

you were actually grateful for how early she'd insisted on getting ready considering how long she'd agonized over her eyeliner, or how many times she'd applied and removed her lashes, complaining that "something was off" or "it just didn't look right". your suggested time of arrival came in no time at all, and by then sasha was more than eager to start rushing you despite the pace she'd been moving at earlier.

"hurry!! if niko brings food, i don't wanna get there by the time it's all gone!" she whined, jiggling the doorknob to your room impatiently, "for the thanksgiving party, he brought a charcuterie board with all these nice cheeses on it and it was so good, he looked so happy watching me eat it, it was so cute!"

you chuckled softly at her enthusiasm, shoving the last of your things into your clutch, zipping up your phone in the small inner pocket to insure that you didn't drop it and forget on the floor of someone's house this time. "i'm sure that even if we got there late, he'd set aside plenty of food for you."

the walk to the fraternity's designated house was made much shorter by sasha's insistence, practically dragging you along by the wrist the whole way at a near jog. you couldn't deny that you were feeling a bit nervous about the whole ordeal, knowing that you would have sasha, connie, and jean at the very least, but unaware as to what you would really do besides mill around. at the halloween party, you'd been able to play the variety of drinking games that had been set out for the guests with eren and his friends, but now you weren't entirely sure who to stick to for the majority of the night.

you didn't want to bother jean or connie after they'd gotten secured you an invite, and you were sure that sasha was expecting to be able to spend some time alone with the guy she'd came to see in the first place, meaning you'd have to spend a majority of the night alone, or the unfavorable option of mingling with unfamiliar people. but you realized that was a pill you'd have to swallow as you approached the steps of the house, nearly tripping up over your feet from the speed that sasha was hauling you along at, watching her furiously knock at the door.

there were people wandering about in the yard, some on their phones, most likely waiting for their own friends to arrive, and a smoky stench of something that definitely wasn't just tobacco wafting from the group of men camped out on the porch murmuring amongst each other. you could hear the volume of the music inside the house, almost able to feel it thrumming across the floor if you focused enough.

"thomas!" she exclaimed at the sight of a younger-looking blonde boy when the door opened, whose existence you honestly had no idea about until just now, grinning so broadly it made your own cheeks hurt for her, "jean invited us!"

"oh, come right in." he beamed right back, calling loudly over his shoulder, "yo, jean, your friends are here!"

the inside of the house looked just as you expected, already crowded to max capacity, jean having to maneuver past the throng of people gathered near the front to approach the two of you. "damn, i feel like i haven't seen you in forever." he did his best to speak over the music, wrapping you up in a friendly squeeze, "glad to see you could finally make it." he turned to sasha. "niko's already in the kitchen, by the way. asked when you were coming just a few minutes ago."

sasha's face lit up with glee, turning to you, silently asking for permission to go off on her own as if you could ever deny her and her overly-eager expression. "go get 'em, tiger." you smiled, giving her a few pats on her shoulder to send her off on her way, watching her disappear into the crowd in record time.

but before apprehension of her absence could set in, you felt jean's arm sling around your shoulder, pulling you into his side. "c'mon, you didn't think i was gonna ditch out and let you hang alone all night?" you giggled, turning your head up to look at him properly for the first time.

you'd first met jean in your statistics class, an unfortunate requirement for your major of choice, and initially bonded over your mutual connection through sasha. they'd been good friends in high school, and you'd just moved into a room for at least the next year with her, so you figured it'd do you well to have someone who could get you in her good graces in the event that you two didn't get along. but, thankfully, you two were just fine on your own, and sasha and jean became your first friends outside of the small group you and eren shared.

the only real conflict of interest between the two of you seemed to be your aforementioned boyfriend, and you couldn't really be upset at him for that. eren could be difficult to get along with even at the best of times, he wasn't a terrible person—at least before he'd cheated—but he wasn't exactly the most friendly either.

"is this piercing new?" you asked, reaching up to brush your thumb over the small earring hugging the shell of jean's ear.

"yeah, got it for new year's. pretty hot, right?" you snorted, earning a grin from him, "by the way, if you need to use the bathroom just tell me, the one on the main floor is fucking filthy. and also probably has no toilet paper."

"will do." you could feel the tension ebbing away in his company, at least when you ignored the annoyed glances other girls were sending your way when they noticed his arm around you, "so, what's on the menu for tonight?"

"well, we probably have every kind of alcohol known to man," he said, leaning down to speak into your ear as he began to guide you through the crowded first floor, "beer kegs are out back, junk food and all the inexpensive shit is in the kitchen." he stopped at the opening to a hallway, smile evident in his voice. "but i'm feeling pretty generous tonight, so if you want some of the good stuff we have stashed, just say the word."

"wow, such a gentleman. do you say that to every girl that comes in?" you playfully replied, thankfully far enough away from the music now that you didn't have to talk at nearly a shout.

"only the ones i like." he added a terribly over-exaggerated wink, earning another small laugh from you, "so, what'll it be? vodka, tequila, or triple sec?"

you blinked up at him. "that's it? when you said 'good stuff', i imagined a little more variety."

"beggars can't be choosers, sweetheart. and anyways we're a frat, not a restaurant, so either take your pick or go enjoy some cheap wine while you watch nikolo and sasha drool over each other."

you rolled your eyes, feigning anger in the face of his attitude, huffing out your answer. "surprise me then, frat boy."

"good answer." he said with a grin, "wait here."

he disappeared down the hall, leaving you to stare in silence at the wall before you and listen to the barely muffled sounds of the party going on just a few meters away. you opened up your clutch to fish out your phone, opening it to find your text conversation still open, catching a glimpse of connie's name. you felt a little guilty that you'd almost forgotten about his expected presence, seeing as he had messaged you and you hadn't heard anything from sasha or jean yet. you decided to shoot him a quick text letting him know that you and sasha had arrived, not surprised when he didn't respond as quickly as he usually did, knowing that he was already wrapped up in getting high out of his mind somewhere here or doing so elsewhere.

you opted to kill time tapping through your feed, making it a point to quickly scroll past any posts with armin's handle attached to them. the thought of eren having fun halfway across the world was both pleasant and disheartening at the same time. you felt stupid for still clinging on to the second thoughts about ending things the second he got back. sure, all the dots connected suspiciously well to create a picture that led to the clear conclusion of cheating, but eren wasn't good at hiding things. you remembered the time in your junior year when he'd barely been able to keep your surprise party that your friends had organized you a secret before one of them slipped up about it and exonerated him from blame, and you couldn't help but ask yourself if he was really capable of hiding such a terrible deed when he couldn't even conceal the harmless types of secrets from you.

the more confrontational part of you said that that was ages ago, that both you and him had changed so much since your time in high school, and maybe one of those changes was what made him put so much distance between the two of you these last months rather than hang around you and risk airing out his dirty laundry. you knew you should be angry with him, you would be more than right to be angry with him, but you force yourself to stop clinging to the simpler times, the days when he'd look at you like you'd put the stars in the sky and said all he ever wanted to do was be around you. you couldn't believe how much had changed in so little time.

"ta-da!" jean's voice interrupted your self-pity, a tall plastic cup suddenly occupying your vision, "long island iced tea for the lady. with a straw."

"christ, jean, are you trying to kill me?" you guffawed, taking the cup from him anyways, "my first real party in months and this is what you start me off with?"

"at least give it a try! after i took all that time to make it for you.." he furrowed his brows at you, only relaxing after you took a tentative sip. it was surprisingly not as strong as you thought it would be, a little on the sweeter side, but it served as a good distraction for the burn of five different alcohols sliding down your throat. "pretty good, isn't it?"

"meh. five out of ten." you snarked, giggling around the straw between your lips.

"typical," he lamented, clutching his hands over his heart, "all you and sasha ever do is use me."

"don't lie to yourself, jean. you love us."

you didn't know if it was the dim lighting casting a shadow over his face, but you could swear that you saw his cheeks flush at your assertion. "anyways.. speaking of love, you still dating that asshole? eric?"

"eren." you corrected, laughing at the error, "and, well, it's complicated."

"complicated? then i'm assuming he fucked up big time, considering he's not even here with you this time around."

you took a long sip of your drink, fiddling with the bendy part of your straw, the thought of his infidelity weighing heavily on your heart. "well he'd probably be here if he wasn't out of town, he's been planning to take his trip for a while now.."

jean shot you a displeased look. "i seriously don't know how you put up with that guy, you're selling yourself short honestly. planning on breaking up with him anytime soon?"

you cast your gaze to the floor, thankful that the warmth of the alcohol in your stomach was helping to ease the cool hollowness settling deep into your chest. "oh hush. you don't even know the whole story, jean."

"well i know enough. if you're in the market for any new guys, i'll scout out someone nice for you." you scoffed at his offer, but didn't outright deny it either, unable to help smiling along with him when he smirked and nodded over to the party in the other room, "now, come play me in beer pong, then you'll really have something to complain about."

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

zeke could confidently say that his night had been utterly unremarkable.

another quiet day spent working at the library, where he'd actually glanced at the door more times than he was willing to admit with the hope that it would be you walking in. he'd actually been quite tempted to message you, to ask what you were doing, if you had anywhere between two and three so that maybe he could see you, but he'd ultimately decided against it. he couldn't quite figure out the exact cause of his newly-found infatuation with you, but the rationality of it didn't concern him as much as it probably should've, he was simply pleased to relive the very recent memories of your encounters together and anticipate your next meeting—at least until his younger brother returned.

eren had attempted to goad a reaction out of him with an assortment of unsavory texts calling him just about every name in the book, a constant stream of questions asking why he did it, or what he'd done to deserve such a thing, and even a few desperate pleas begging him to say that it wasn't really you. of course, he'd ignored all of them, and he wondered if eren was trying to contact you as well, knowing that you wouldn't be able to see the messages even if that was the case, though still curious nonetheless.

but for the moment, he was lounging at his usual downtown bar, seated in a booth beside reiner and across from porco at their rescheduled night out, since both marcel and porco were unable to make it yesterday, the latter sulking after his noisy attempt to flag down the waitress ended in failure.

"is marcel actually gonna make it tonight?" reiner asked, plucking a stick of celery from the appetizer platter in the middle of the table.

"no clue." porco replied, sipping his mojito, "said he got caught up at work again, so either the let down text is gonna come any minute now, or he's gonna show up for an hour and then disappear."

zeke chuckled. "post-marriage life sure is tough, i guess."

"you can say that again. he's always calling me, freaking about the idea of kids and his mortgage and stuff that i didn't even think about until he complained about it, scary shit."

"you say that like you're not two years away from being his age."

porco began what was sure to be one of his smart-ass replies, but the waitress had finally approached their booth, hiding her annoyance with his friend with a forced smile as she took the orders for their entrées. zeke pulled his phone from the back pocket of his jeans when he felt it buzz, feeling the slightest hint of disappointment by the fact that it wasn't you.

"who is it? your new girlfriend?" reiner grumbled, smirking when porco shot up in his seat.

"girlfriend?!" he exclaimed far too loudly.

"yup. zeke didn't tell you he's dating a high-schooler?"

so much for "your business", zeke thought to himself. "oh, fuck off. she's in college." he frowned at his roommate, only met with another tired expression of disappointment.

"just barely." reiner turned back to the man across the table, "it's one of his brother's ex-girlfriends too."

porco stared at him incredulously, eyes wide and judgmental, falling back against the cushion of the seat with a low whistle. "shit zeke.. that's kinda fucked up, don't you think?" he seemed uncomfortable by the unexpected revelation, "you're almost thirty and you're screwing around with someone who's probably not even twenty? is this an afraid-of-getting-old thing? mid-life crisis??"

"she's an adult, she can make her own choices." zeke didn't appreciate the sudden scrutiny, finishing off his old fashioned in the hopes that the bourbon would wash away the self-conscious feeling settling unpleasantly in his gut, "not my fault that her choice happens to be wanting to be around me rather than the guys her age."

"what ever happened to you and pieck? she's hot—"

"and actually over the legal drinking age."

both porco and zeke pointedly ignored reiner's interaction as the former continued. "—i thought it was working out between you two.. what happened?"

zeke shrugged. "just wasn't the right fit for me. but you liked her, didn't you? before we had our thing." he looked up at his friend, forcing a casual grin, "maybe you could give that shot now."

he felt a bit more at ease seeing porco's ears and cheeks flush red, now fiddling with the lime garnish on the rim of his glass. "we still talk here and there.. i don't really know much about what she's up to these days."

before he could answer with more words of encouragement that detracted from the previous, morally-incriminating topic, his phone began to vibrate, and he felt his heart leap into his throat at the sight of your name on the screen. "sorry, gotta take this."

he tugged on his jacket and slid out of the booth, ignoring reiner's chastising glance and porco's bewildered look, passing the waitress who was now carrying a platter with their food and refills on his way out. the cool night breeze was refreshing in comparison to the awkward, almost cramped atmosphere that had developed over their discussion, his breath coming is foggy puffs in the chilled, january air as he pressed the answer button. immediately upon raising the phone to his ear, he was met with a blurred assortment of background noise, able to discern the muffled sound of music and the sound of footsteps outside of whatever room you were in.

"hello?"

"oh, zeke, you answered!!" he could hear in your voice that you were clearly intoxicated, much more than you had been when you were at his house, words stringing together and ending syllables unnecessarily drawn out.

he felt uncharacteristically worried at the realization that you were at a party, one that sounded quite large and crowded, most likely crawling with unsavory individuals that he knew prowled around those sorts of events when he himself was in college. "are you alright? where are you right now? do you need me to pick you up?"

zeke was already digging around in his coat pocket to check if he had his keys, more than prepared to take off without his meal or saying goodbye to his friends inside. "'m at a party on campus, 's okay. in the bathroom. just thinking."

zeke didn't feel eased at all at the sound of loud knocking coming from somewhere, hearing you becoming distant for a moment as you presumably pulled the phone away from your ear to call out that the bathroom was occupied. there was shuffling on the other line, then silence for a short moment. "can i ask you something?"

zeke frowned. the idea of not being able to know who was monitoring you in this state wasn't sitting well with him. "go ahead."

"but don't call me stupid, ok? i already know it's a stupid question, but i still wanna ask it."

"there's no such thing as stupid questions." he assured you, ignoring the buzz of a text notification, most likely porco or reiner telling him to come back in before the burger he ordered got cold.

"do i really have to break up with eren?"

zeke felt something odd flicker in his chest, that unfamiliar feeling he'd felt when he caught you staring at you and his brother's one-sided chat logs, but yet the affirmative answer he thought he would be able to give with no problem sat on the tip of his tongue, undelivered. he thought back to that face reiner had made when he told him who you were, and porco's hesitant words trying to rationalize his actions but ultimately failing to do so.

zeke didn't understand why he felt so conflicted all of a sudden. this was meant to be a simple ordeal, one where he got what he needed to teach eren a lesson and moved on with his life. but now here he was, concerned about your whereabouts, focusing hard enough on your muddled words that he managed to catch the wobble in your voice that betrayed your own state of emotional unrest. he realized a moment too late that he hadn't said anything, hearing a small sniffle on your end before we began speaking.

"god, i can't believe i said that out loud, you must really think i'm dumb r'now, but.. i just can't let go of what we had." he was sure that you were crying now. "i keep thinking about what you said, an' you're right. he's been an ass to me, he practically ignored me for, like, three months, probably fuckin' cheated on me with his hot best friend, so i can't understand why i just wanna keep trying to fix things... and its so confusing 'cause everyone just keeps telling me to enjoy myself an' have fun, but i have no idea what i even want anymore, and i don't even know what we are right now and i can't fuckin' believe i cheated on my boyfriend with his fuckin' older brother and i don't know what i'd ever do if he found out."

by the end of it, you were letting out small, hiccuped sobs, breath fast and uneven just as it had been the night he'd invited you over. he honestly didn't know what to say, listening to you cry, staring at the steam of his breath as it dissipated out into the night. you were a good person, someone who was undeserving of such treatment from either him or eren, but it was simply an unfortunate coincidence that you had been caught in the fray.

he took a deep breath and gathered his thoughts, preparing to deliver an affirmation similar to the one he'd given you a few days ago when you first laid all your relationship troubles out on the table, but there was a rapid, more insistent knocking at the bathroom door on your end. he could hear a female voice calling out your name, and the jiggling of the door knob.

"hold on," you paused, sniffling, "it's my roommate."

you steadied yourself enough to say that, tossing the phone somewhere before he heard the sound of the door unlocking. "there you are!! are you seriously wasted already? it's only, like, eleven?! why are you crying???" your roommate sounded tipsy, but nowhere near as intoxicated as you currently were, which eased zeke's initial worry, "jean! can you c'mere for a sec! wait, were you calling someone?"

there was a brief pause, and zeke could practically see your tiny nod and teary eyes in his head, then heels clicking over tile and the sound of the phone being lifted, followed by a hurried, "hey, this is her roommate! she's fine, gotta go!"

then silence, just him and the faint noise coming from inside the bar behind him. he didn't know what to think. from the sounds of it, it seemed like your friends were taking care of you for the time being, friends who names he vaguely remembered you speaking of when you'd been detailing your time at the halloween party—people that were unfamiliar to him, people he wasn't sure that he could trust. and a small part of him, a tiny voice at the back of his head, scoffed at his flimsy mask of worry that barely hid the true emotion, his possessive nature, driving his desire to go pick you up and bring you back to the apartment to take care of so you'd have to be there with him another morning with your thankful gazes and blunt, half-awake words.

he knew he was in no place to begin laying judgement at these unknown people in your life considering what he'd done, but it was an innate sort of feeling, the thought that always clouded his mind when he laid eyes on people that were younger than him, that he knew more than them, that somehow he would always be above them in an invisible hierarchy. that same feeling that he felt when he found himself looking down at you.

"zeke?" a warm, friendly voice broke him out of his thoughts, his eyes turning up from the ground to find a tired-looking marcel standing before him, "what are you doing out here by yourself?"

"smoke break." the lie slipped between his lips before he even thought of the fact that there was no cigarette between his fingers, no scent of smoke in the air or clinging to his clothes, "glad you could make it, everyone's inside. pretty sure porco already ordered you something."

but instead of immediately heading inside for zeke to come after him, marcel stood for a moment, lips drawing back and eyebrows knitting into a concerned expression. "is everything okay?"

zeke thought for a moment, giving a non-committal shrug in response.

"still having family troubles?"

despite having been quite fixated on his negative feelings revolving his own younger brother for the last few days, zeke had almost pushed out a majority of the sordid details of the entire situation out of his head, which now seemed to all flood back with such a short, simple question.

"you could say that." zeke scratched the back of his neck, now wishing he'd actually had a cigarette to take his mind off of all these turbulent thoughts, "all the arguing and shit subsided already, but..."

"anything from your dad?" marcel's voice was almost tentative asking that, frowning when zeke said nothing, "sorry.. didn't mean to be insensitive about it."

"it's not insensitive. just," he swallowed, tucking his phone back into his pocket and reaching out to push open the bar door, a silent, less embarrassing way to signal that he no longer wanted to talk about it anymore, "just kind of fresh. that's all."

they both stood in silence for a moment, marcel's eyes wandering his face, features expressing a clear concern, but thankfully, he didn't push the issue any further, simply following him inside like zeke wished he would've done minutes earlier to save him the trouble, proceeding to the booth housing their friends. the conversation didn't wander back to the topic of him and his morally dubious relations nor his current familial situation, much to his relief, making it much easier for him to just allow the conversation to flow around him, finding himself not having much of an appetite or desire to speak much with so much on his mind.

for a moment, zeke wondered to himself if this was a punishment from the universe, feeling so downtrodden on what was usually one of his more enjoyable nights in the week. not to say that they were always amazing to be around, but spending time with porco, reiner, marcel, and sometimes bertholdt made up most of the meaningful social interactions he had, and to have lost out on it today of all days just seemed like some odd form of karmic justice as a result of him behaving so selfishly.

but he held out for the rest of the evening anyways, going through more drinks that he probably should've, finding easier to tune in to porco and reiner's usual bickering, marcel's attempts to quell them, the ambient sound of bustling waiters and clinking glasses and plates to bury down any thought of you or his family or what was to come at the end of the week, the consequences with much more magnitude in his life than an just an unpleasant night out.

✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ:  *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ:*·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ:*

previous chapter⥽

#zeke yeager #zeke jaeger #zeke yeager x reader #zeke jaeger x reader #zeke yeager x you #snk zeke #snk x reader #snk x you #snk x reader smut #aot x reader #aot x you #aot x reader smut #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #shingeki no kyojin fanfiction #m.nsfw

[cheswirls]

im watching these videos outta the adobe max conference for school and tbh its RLY making me realize how much adobe being an industry standard isnt all that great..

like i watched this one where this woman takes her sketches into illustrator to establish color then starts drawing in photoshop n im like arent there? better drawing tools even with adobe programs than ps?? and its making me reflect like. earlier in the semester one of my profs wanted two versions of a product done in two diff adobe programs and most of the class used their own personal drawing programs instead of ps and then imported it in and saved it to make it “ps” version. and one of us confessed this during critique and then several others followed and the prof jus came back like, asking the names of these non-adobe apps to remind himself and jus talked over it in a way that was v denouncing of it all? like nothing could beat ps for him. and i mean we all have preferences but i dont think teaching future designers that adobe is the only way is rly.. good.

esp w the new user agreements that are saying you arent even owning the product when you pay for cc every year. like at this point youre lowkey renting adobe apps and for a loooooot of money. like i get theyre advanced programs but theyre also super overpriced. its kinda been disappointing to see all these ppl fall back only on adobe apps when there are different, easier solutions bc thats all they know and/or thats the way theyve sold their soul to. 

its rly disappointing esp in my digital art class this year that i was super excited for in the beginning but now cannot stand. what i thought was going to be like tips for drawing digitally etc etc has been how to use adobe illustrator 101. thats it. which like. if you wanna run your class that way thats fine but its not very practical?? ig before this conference i jus didnt know adobe was so global, so worldwide, which like.. if its an industry standard globally thats rly a shame actually. but i remember near the start of the semester thinking this class is so one-dimensional what if some of us go work overseas and dont have access to illustrator? how will any of what weve learned in this class be applied outside of it then? and now im realizing that these ppl expect us all to take our tricks weve learned w operating “adobe only” programs and go out and excel. 

but if you strip away the need for adobe, what is left in the end?? are we actually learning how to be designers if we cant operate w/o specific software? shouldnt time in class be better spent learning more generic stuff that can be applied to anything? 

idk im jus ranting at this point. jus things ive observed this semester. its rly opened my eyes to the level my schools gd program is at. but like. also made me realize it it could be a bigger issue? like maybe thats how classrooms across the country are being operated -by teaching adobe. 

#ctag #this got long sry no read more

[iliketowrite1996]

The Nanny Chronicles part 1: Here for You

Disclaimer- I do not own any Marvel characters or their fictional worlds, countries, planets, etc.

OKAY, I haven’t written in a while and I am always open to constructive criticism.

‘’Akhona! Lindelwa! Let’s go, we’ve got to get you two to school on time!’’

‘’Coming!,’’ you hear the ten-year-old boy, Akohna, call down the stairs as you listen to him move about on the third floor of the home, gathering the necessary materials for another day of learning.

As you finish packing the lunches, you hear the rhythmic thump… thump… thump of Lindelwa, the six-year-old, coming down the stairs, sliding down each step while she holds onto the banister. 

Akhona and Lindelwa are the son and daughter, respectively, of T’Challa Udaku.  Right after you graduated college, you began applying for jobs. One of your friends, who is a nanny for Tony and Pepper Stark, told Mr. Udaku about you. A quick interview later, and you were in. While you do hope to move to a classroom and become an elementary teacher one day, this isn't so bad for now. The kids are pretty well behaved, the pay is good, and Mr. Udaku is a lovely person. 

You fondly roll your eyes before zipping her plastic, zebra-print lunch box, making sure that all of its content- her rice, chicken, juice and fruit- are intact before you do. 

‘’I’m ready!.’’ she enters the kitchen, beaming up at you, showcasing where she lost a tooth just last week.

‘’I see!.’’ you motion for her to lift her leg, allowing for you to tie her shoe before she straightens up, letting you observe her in her school clothes.

‘’Does daddy know you’re wearing those socks,’’ you glance down at the brightly colored socks, with cats printed all over them.

‘’Mhm!,’’ she looks proudly at her ensemble, before grinning back up at you.

‘’Well, if it’s alright with daddy, it’s alright with me,’’ you concede, handing the young girl her lunch box, ‘’Is your brother ready?’’

She nods enthusiastically, just as her brother rounds the corner into the kitchen.

‘’I’m ready to go,’’ he takes his lunch box from you, ‘’Are you taking us, or are we riding the bus?’’

‘’I can take you guys if you want, but we’ve got to get going. I’ve got to stop by the store anyway.’’

The two children follow you out of the house, waiting for you to lock up the house before the three of you head to the car. 

As soon as you pull up to the elementary school, you turn and look at the two of them.

‘’Akhona, I’ll pick you up from soccer practice at 5:00 sharp. Be ready to go on time- your dad invited your grandparents over for dinner this evening.’’

‘’Alright,’’ he nods, unbuckling his seat belt, ‘’Is N’Jadaka going to be there too?’’

‘’I’m not sure,’’ you admit, ‘’We’ll see.’’

He gives you thumbs up, sliding out of your minivan.

‘’Lindelwa,’’ you turn to the first grader, ‘’You’ll be coming home with Wanda and Meghan today. Make sure you get your rain boots out of your cubby today, alright?’’

‘’Yes, ma’am,’’ she gives you a thumbs up before sliding out of the van, taking her brother’s hand as he guides her into the building, ready to take her to Ms. Stormy’s class. 

As soon as the children are in the building,you pull away from the curb, heading to the grocery store. 

Ever since moving to New York 3 and a half years ago, you have gotten used to the city. NYU has become your home away from home, in a sense,and you can’t imagine going to college anywhere else. Now that you’re a senior, you can say that you definitely feel a sense of familiarity with your surroundings. You have your favorite spots to go, and your spots where you take the children on their days off from school. Spending time at the park, the grocery store, and the laundromat is nothing new to you. You’ve come to think of this city as your home almost as much as you think of Texas, your home state, as home. 

As you move up and down the aisles, collecting items for the week, you barely notice someone calling your name. 

‘’I’ve been calling you since aisle six,’’ Wanda, your neighbor, speaks up, glazing up at the store sign that indicates that you are clearly in aisle ten.

‘’Girl,’’ I’m sorry you shrug, placing your shopping list back into your bag, ‘’I’ve been in my own little world.’’

‘’I can only imagine. I haven’t seen you around much lately,’’ she picks up a bag of sugar, surveying it for any tears before placing it in her shopping cart, ‘’And Pietro has been asking about you.’’

You roll your eyes fondly at the mention of her beloved twin brother Pietro. He, like you, attends NYU. While you finished obtaining a degree in education last semester, he is about to finish nursing school. You met Wanda when you were put together as roommates your freshman year, and Pietro and your friendship is a result of yours and Wanda’s. 

Wanda, who had spent a semester at community college previously, was stuck deciding between law and education, finally deciding on the latter. Because of this, you two spent almost every semester in almost all of the time that you’ve spent in college. Now, she lives only three doors down from you in her shoebox apartment, sharing with Pietro like, like you live in your equally small apartment with your roommates- your cousin MJ and one of her friends, a girl who is a science major at NYU. 

‘’Tell Pietro that I am equally flattered and horrified,’’ you joke, stooping to pick up a bag of flour, ‘’How is he, anyway?’’

‘’I hardly ever see him. He’s always studying at the library or out doing something for class,’’ she shrugs, ‘’Anyway, a few of us are getting together this weekend. Some of the people from our program, Pietro and some of his buddies. We’re hanging out at the apartment.’’

‘’Oh, I’d better make sure I don’t work Saturday but I should be up for it, ‘’ you respond, running through your schedule in your head.

‘’Come on!  I know you’re busy, but we haven’t seen you, except for in passing, in months!.’’

‘’Okay, okay,’’ you laugh, ‘’I promise that I’ll try to make it, Wanda. Bye..’’

With a final ‘’Good-bye’’, she walks away, heading for the checkout and leaving you to finish grocery shopping on your own.

.

Ever since you started nannying for Lindelwa and Akhona, you haven’t had much of a social life. You take care of them five days a week, and usually spend the weekends catching up on errands and relaxing. On the off chance that BOTH of their parents work on Saturday, you’re with them even more than you usually are. It would be nice to spend some time with your  friends, take your mind off of all of your responsibilities for once.

This thought resurfaces as you arrive back at the Udaku residence, and are putting the groceries away. It stays with you until a deep voice brings you out of your own train of thought, snapping you back to the moment.

It’s none other than T’Challa Udaku, your boss, standing in the doorway of the kitchen.

‘’Oh. Good morning, Mr. Udaku. I didn’t know you’d be home early.’’

‘’Good morning to you, too. I just stopped by to get some papers that I left on my desk this morning. Thank you for being so willing to come in early this morning. I’ve got a big court trial coming up, and I desperately needed to be there early this morning to go over things with my partner.’’

,‘’It’s fine,’’ you shrug tucking a freshly done rbeaid behind your ear, ‘’I mean, this is my job.’’

‘’Be that as it may, you do a fantastic job of it. The kids love you,’’’ he grins, and you’d be a liar if you said that his smile didn’t make butterflies come to your stomach.

Mr. Udaku is attractive, that’s for sure. He’s about ten years your senior, but he’s a handsome man. Not that you’d ever say that to him. It’d be very unprofessional, and one hundred percent embarrassing, in your eyes.

Still, you see nothing wrong with silently admiring his good looks while you’re in a conversation with him.

‘’Well, thank you. I love them, too,’’ you comment sincerely., ‘’I got what you need for dinner tonight- everything for the scampi, salads, and bread rolls. Did you want me to go ahead and get started? The starks family will drop Lindelwa off, and I can pick Akhona up from the school when he’s done with soccer practice.’’

‘’Since it is on my way home, I will get him. I really appreciate you doing this. Lindelwa has been raving about your chicken scampi ever since you made it that night you stayed over with them, Will you be joining us for dinner?’’

It’s nothing, and you know it., He is simply extending kindness. However, you’d be remiss not to note the fact that it makes heat rush to your cheeks, and you’re a bit eager to accept it.

‘’I think I could swing that,’’ you nod, mentally nothing to add more pieces of chicken to the dish.

‘’Great. Please set eight spots as.’’

‘’Oh, is N’Jadaka joining us tonight?’’

‘’No, but my partner will. I’d better get going to the office. I’ll see you later on tonight.’’’ ‘

‘’Okay, Mr. Udaku. See you then.’’

He gives one last grin before exiting, and you wait until you hear the door close behind him before you smile to yourself.

 Okay, so you’re not expecting it to go anywhere. But if you’re gonna have a crush, is he  really so bad to have a crush on? And it’s all simple, all innocent, and none of it going anywhere. Little do you know, a series of events is about to unfold that will test your relationship,with T’Challa,  so to speak.

And this invitation to dinner is only the beginning.

@ashanti-notthesinger @destinio1 @afraiddreamingandloving @airis-paris14 @syreanne @chaneajoyyy @90sinspiredgirl @shemiahsmelanin @zillmonger @skysynclair19 @marvelpotterlove @constantlycravingtheunknown @imaginewhoever @wakanda-inspired @pocmarvelworks @theunsweetenedtruth @dreampovx @adrioola21 @supremethunda @thisiskayesworld @mcusocialimagines @priya212  @kumkaniudaku  @airis-paris14 @alexundefined @fonville-designs  @dramaqueenamby  @mellowjellow6 @oceanscorazon @nerd-lovely @fonville-designs @akimi-youngblood @yoyolovesbucky @fd-writes @areubeingserved-too @areubeingserved @thisbrokencapulet@squeackygee @melidris1  @honeydew-melanin

DISCLAIMER- I own no rights to any Marvel characters, countries,  galaxies, planets, etc.

#t'challa fanfiction #T'Challa Udaku #t'challa fluff #t'challa udaku imagine #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel x reader #black panther marvel imagine series #Marvel Imagine series #marvel imagines #t'challa x reader #t'challa x reader insert

[creativenostalgiastuff]

Butterflies

Summary: Virgil made Roman promise that he wouldn’t fall for him. Virgil never made the same promise. And as they get ready for the High School Theater Awards, Virgil is left not quite sure what he thinks. Pairings: Prinxiety Warnings: homophobia mention, theater mentions, falling mention, stress, worry, awards, kissing, flowers Word Count: 5853 Author’s Note: I was watching Phineas and Ferb and Isabella says a line that was my springboard for this story. It takes place after Locked and before Last Words. I guess it's kind of forming its own Prinxiety Human AU because I keep adding more to this set up. Anyway, again this can be read as part of that or separately. Up to you. Just lots of feelings that were fun to explore. 

Virgil lays on the stage, a foot dangling over the side as he places his head down on his knee, waiting, amongst the confetti scattered across the floor. The lights are up in full, the castle backdrop that had been used in at least twenty different productions before this one swaying slightly in the breeze from the open backstage door. 

He closes his eyes, listening to the commotion in the vestibule outside of the theater. All of the families, friends, teachers, and other students gushing over the cast of the show, congratulating them for their performances and hard work. It will still be a bit before the cast comes in to turn in their mics, not that Virgil minds. He knows his family isn’t out there (he didn’t tell them when the show was… or even that he was in another show) and he doesn’t like crowds anyway. He is happy to just sit there and calm down from the show hype.

Virgil takes a deep breath, shakily letting it out as he looks around the theater. Admittedly, Virgil can’t quite figure out why his chest feels so tight. Maybe it has something to do with the release of all the pent up stress from his role as Prop Master. Running backstage had been stressful enough when he wasn’t in a leadership role, but lord help him when it came to being put in charge of the props. 

Or, maybe, it had something to do with the impending high school theater awards nominations. The student critics had been attending the show all weekend. Their reviews would come out by Wednesday, nominations for awards announced Friday, and then two weeks until the Gala where the winners would be announced.

“Oh, Virgil!” a sing-song voice rings as the door to the theater opens. “You have visitors!”

Virgil smiles as his eyes find his friends. Patton skips down the center aisle towards him, a flower tucked behind his ear, probably from a cast member’s bouquet. 

“It really was a great show,” says Patton, his grin large and genuine. “And you did a great job backstage! Everyone is talking about it. Best Junior Senior show in the history of the program! I can’t wait to take a turn at it next year with you guys!”

“It is regrettable that we were not able to participate in this show,” Logan nods. “You designed a fantastic, functional carriage and your props organization system was highly regarded by both the cast and crew.”

Virgil laughs dismissively as he stuffs his hands into his hoodie’s pocket, “Right. System. Or, you know, excessively fussing over items to the point of annoying the cast into submission.”

“You did well, Virge,” Patton reassures. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you get a nomination.”

 “Yeah, nominations,” Virgil blinks as he thinks about the upcoming city awards for the different high school theater programs. Cinderella was the last show before nominations were announced. “I don’t know. It's a talented city.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Patton encourages. “Go to the cast party and just relax. What’s done is done.”

Before Virgil can respond, the doors open and a blob of bright, glittering blue fabric fills the doorway. An arm emerges from the blob followed by the torso of a girl shouting, “Ay, yo, Prince! Push me through!”

“Dude, I’m trying. Your hoop is stuck!”

Virgil sprints up to the stuck Cinderella, “Woah, wait, stop! That hoop is a rental! Alana, back up, fold the hoop and then come through.”

Alana does as directed and gets through the doorway easily this time, “Yeah, I think the costume department would cry if I tore this dress. How many hours did it take?”

“It was a semester project for Talyn, so more than you want to know,” Roman answers as he follows his princess through the door, straightening the golden crown on his head. Virgil can’t help but notice the confidence that was almost glowing around this Prince: his posture straight and tall, a smile that could stop traffic, a sparkle in his eye that made them seem bright and full.  Snapchat wished it could make a filter to make people look like Roman did after a great performance, thought Virgil as he took in the sight of his friend.

“Virgil?”

Virgil shook his head, snapping back to reality, “Sorry, yeah?”

Alana turned around and pointed at the battery pack hidden on the hip pocket at the back of the dress (did Virgil say how amazing the dress design was for student work?), “Take my mic? I need to get out of this monstrosity.”

“Right,” Virgil says as he helps Alana get out of her mic, trying to ignore Roman; a task which was getting harder for Virgil as their friendship grew. Roman was such a big personality he seemed to demand attention. That meant that the more time Virgil spent with him, the more attention Roman took.

“Roman, Alana!” Patton calls as he bounces up and wraps the two leads in a big bear hug, “I am so proud of you two! That was such a good show!”

Virgil  finally untangles Alana, “You’re good to go.”

“Thanks,” she responds as she turns to face the group, “And thanks, Patton. It was a good last run. Only thing that would make it better is if we can at least get a nomination my senior year. It’d be nice to leave a legacy.”

“What is a legacy?” Roman immediately starts asking, striking dramatic poses. “Its leaving seeds in a garden you never get to see.”

“Come here, Mr. Legacy,” Virgil quips back with a roll of his eyes. “Before you pull a wire with your dramatics.”

“And I’m going to get out of this,” Alana says as she grabs as much of her dress as she can. 

“Need help with doors?” Patton asks, already headed towards the door. 

“That’d be great,” answers the princess. “Logan, can you help grab more of this?”

“Yes ma’am,” responds Logan as Alana hands him an armful of dress. “How did you do this for the production?”

“Mice,” Alana answers flatly as she picks up more dress. She takes a moment to pointedly make eye contact with Virgil, as if trying to send a secret message. Whatever the message is, Virgil doesn’t catch it, but it does make his ears red as the three of them maneuver her out of the theater and down to the green room to change. 

Virgil returns his attention to getting the mic off of Roman. The costume strategically hides his mic pack in his red sash, the wire running along it up to his shoulder before it blends into his hair. Easy enough to free. Without a word, Virgil gets to work fishing it out of the sash as his friend works to free himself from the mic in his hair.

They are friends, right? After the events in the locked choir room, Virgil doesn’t really know what is happening as far as their relationship, if you want to call it that, is concerned.There was a time where Virgil couldn’t stand the sight of Roman Prince. But things change. Roman has been true to his word, not telling anyone about Virgil being gay. They are fine doing things without Logan and Patton with them, which hadn’t always been true.  

Throughout the run of the show, Roman had gone out of his way to ensure that Virgil was included when the cast and crew did things; extending invites and offering rides. And Virgil realized he didn’t mind the large social gatherings with Roman. Something about Roman was almost calming, reassuring in those situations. Virgil almost found himself waiting for the next party, just so that he could hang out with Roman when he was in his element as Mr. Popular. Wanting to spend time with friends was normal, right?

“So, Virge,” Roman asks quietly, pulling Virgil from his thoughts, “you are coming to the cast party with me, aren’t you?”

“Uh…” Virgil begins, stuttering. With me?

“I mean, I’m taking Logan and Patton in my car, so it just makes sense you’d come too,” Roman explains as he hands the mic over his shoulder to Virgil, his words fast. “Sorry, I shouldn’t assume you’re going. It’s totally up to you. Just, you know, you always have a seat in my car if you want it. ”

It takes Virgil a moment to steady his voice, aiming for his signature indifference,  as he takes the mic and checks the battery is turned off, “Sure.”

“Perfect!” Roman turns, a smile beaming before he starts walking towards the door. “Give me five to change and then we’ll head out!”

Virgil  waits until the door to the theater clicks before he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He takes a steadying breath as he heads towards the sound booth, his face burning up and heart fluttering. 

~:-:~

Virgil sits in his last period class, his leg bouncing as he watches the second hand on the clock make its rounds, counting down the minutes. Why does the last period on the last day of the week always feel like the longest? He knows he isn't the only one anxious for once. 

The whole Cinderella cast had been a mess since Wednesday when they got their reviews from the student critics. They had been overwhelmingly positive, showering them with praise for everything from their costume design to their ensemble to their leads. Virgil found it hard to stay realistic, getting swept up in the hope of his fellow cast and crew. The energy had been undeniably infectious and Roman was definitely the patient zero of the group. As soon as that bell rang, the whole theater department would take off running to check the board. 

“They do realize the stampede of students will be worse than when they post the cast lists, right?” Logan inquires to Virgil, turning in his seat to face him. 

Virgil shrugs, chewing absently on his thumb nail, “Will that stop us from doing it?”

“No, I would think not,” Logan smirks as he turns back and folds his hands on his desk. Virgil rolls his eyes at Logan’s quiet patience. 

“What are the odds we get nominated again?” asks Virgil, leaning forward so that he could talk softly to Logan’s ear. 

“As I have told you, it depends on the category,” answers Logan while still facing front, his hands folded on the desk. “North Valley had a well recieved My Fair Lady, Mount Battenhorn’s stage for Les Mis was all anyone wanted to talk about in the forums for months.”

“Right, right,” sighs the emo as he sits back in his seat. His eyes flit back to the clock and the remaining few minutes before they would be dismissed. His class was about as far from the theater as he could get. Virgil would have to push upstream of the students if he wanted to check the board. Fast, too, if he wants to catch his bus. 

Virgil can’t help the burning question from bubbling out, “But like, what are the chances that Roman…” 

“Roman will get nominated?,” Logan finishes the question in unison with Virgil. He sighs as he pushes his glasses up his nose. “As I have told you the last three times you have asked in this class alone, I am optimistic of Roman’s chances. As I am sure you would agree based on your personal experience, he makes a very convincing Prince Charming. ”

Virgil stops, not quite sure what Logan is trying to insinuate. Was that referring to Virgil’s experience of Roman as an actor, a friend, or something else? 

“Excuse me,” a voice comes over the PA system, cutting off Virgil from retorting. “Teachers, please command a presence in your classroom.”

There is a pause before the voice continues, “As many of you are aware, our theater department just wrapped up the Junior Senior show last weekend, Cinderella. Ms. Martin, the director, is here with some big announcements.” 

“Well this is unprecedented,” comments Logan, loud enough for Virgil to hear. Virgil can feel his pulse skyrocket, adrenaline flooding the system. This can only mean something big. They wouldn’t announce publicly no nominations, right?

“Thank you, Principal Arthur,” the director’s high soprano voice said. “I am here to happily announce that this year’s show set a new school record for nominations, with a total of four nominations!”

“What?!” 

“We have nominations in best costumes, best supporting actor in a musical lead actress in a musical, and best musical!” Ms. Martin rattled off quickly, her voice getting squeakier with each word. “The awards will be given out at the Gala in two weeks. Congrats to everyone on a job well done. Oh, and I need to meet with you all in the theater immediately. Thanks and congrats!”

Virgil doesn't remember standing up. All he knows is that he is looking down at Logan, still sitting in front of him with a smirk, “I guess the odds of nominations were pretty good.”

“We were nominated.” Virgil states, not quite sure he can believe the words coming out of his own mouth. 

The teacher motions towards the door, “I believe your presence was requested in the theater, Virgil?”

“Right,” Virgil says as he picks up his backpack and hurries out the door.  When he gets to the doorway, he sees fellow cast and crew members in the hallway, running and jumping, whooping with excitement. Virgil can’t tell if he wants to join in for a moment as he takes in what they said. The cast is nominated. Roman is nominated. 

Roman. God, he would be so excited.  

A cast member runs past him, “Come on, Virge! They’re waiting!”

Virgil takes off after the rest of the cast, joining in the growing group of theater kids as they get closer to the theater. 

Once in the theater, he follows his fellow techies to the back of the theater as the cast fills the stage, just as they always did for full rehearsals. The whole room is loud with whoops of excitement and genuine joy. Someone hits the lights for the house, leaving the lights for the stage on from the drama class that had just been in there before the cast had taken over. 

“Can I get a mic?” the director yells from the stage, hardly audible over the excitement. She’s a short woman, blending in easily to the small ocean of high school students. One of the sound kids finds a mic and runs it up to her. “Thanks, is this thing on?” the director asks.

“Someone get the spotlight!” shouts one of the actors. 

“I’ll get it,” Virgil yells back. He honestly had missed being in the lighting booth for this show, having gotten his start in the technical side as a spotter. Quickly, Virgil scrambles up the ladder to the lighting booth tower. It takes him a second to turn the nob on the light to turn it on, his hands shaking from the excitement. Finally he gets it, turning on the spotlight and hitting the director. 

“Ah, thank you,” the director calls. “Okay, quiet down. I know we’re excited, but I have a few things we need to cover before dismissal.”

The chattering continues until a “Quiet on stage!” is barked by a familiar voice with a demanding presence. Virgil’s eyes follow to the sound of the voice over the others and smiles at Roman. The cast quiets down at the request of their Prince. 

“Thank you,” Ms. Martin says. “First of all, congratulations to everyone for everything you have done. We wouldn’t have gotten the Best Musical nomination without each and every one of you.

“As you are aware, the Gala is in two weeks. We have been asked to perform a song from the musical at the Gala. I would like to suggest we honor our fabulous leads by going with ‘Do I Love You’. Any objections?”

There’s silence before someone yells, “Give it up for our Prince and Princess, both nominated in their category!”

Virgil finds Alana in the crowd as people turn towards her and hits her with the spotlight quickly while flipping the other one on and spotting Roman too. Both of them laugh as they try to block the light to see who is spotting them.

“Let’s not forget our behind the scene’s nominations too,” Alana calls, finally giving up trying to see Virgil on the spot. “Talyn for that beautiful blue mammoth of a dress, as well as the rest of the costume department!”

Virgil finds Talyn in the group to spot them too and swinging the light from Alana to Talyn. 

“And to our beautiful director for all of her hard work,” Roman shouts as the kids break into applause and cheers. Virgil swings Roman’s spot back to Ms. Martin who has tears in her eyes. “We wouldn’t have set the school record without her!”

A student starts blasting music through the sound system to the cheers of everyone in the theater. Virgil takes a deep breath as he watches the stage, all of the students are hugging one another and dancing in celebration. The room truly feels electric. Virgil can[t help but watch Roman as he make his way through the entire stage, congratulating everyone, before jumping off the stage and making his way to the tech crew, continuing the celebration with them. A few of the other cast members follow him, with a few techies climbing on the stage until it was just one sea of celebration. Virgil is happy to watch from his place on the tower, feeling part of the joy while being comfortably separated. He never wants this moment to end. 

The bell rings, causing all of the students to scramble to find their discarded bags. Virgil watches, mesmerized by the movement below him.

“Okay, Alana and Roman, I need to see you first thing Monday so we can set a schedule to rehearse before the Gala,” Ms. Martin shouts into the mic and the students start to rush for the door. “Great job, everyone! I’ll let you know more details as I get them. Thanks and have a great weekend!”

Virgil sighs, resigning himself to miss the bus after seeing the rush for the door. He needs a minute to calm his shaking hands and falling from scaffolding was not something he plans to do. He sits on the ledge, swinging his legs and waving to the other techies as they head out of the theater. 

Ms. Martin points at him from her spot on the stage, “Virgil, aren’t you going to miss the bus?”

“Yes, ma’am, but its okay,” he waves to her. “I just need a minute to wrap my head around it all, if that’s okay.”

“Well don’t take too long,” she calls back, her eyes drifting to the bottom of the tower where the sound equipment was kept. “I’ll be in my office doing paperwork. Holler if you need me?”

Virgil nods and watches her exit the stage. He takes a deep breath, continuing to swing his legs back and forth. The adrenaline in his system was finally starting to calm back to what Virgil would consider an acceptable level now that the others had left. Virgil pulls out his phone and checks the time. He curses under his breath when he does the math in his head; if he leaves now he might walk in before his parents. Maybe. 

It's not that his parents are bad. They just don’t get Virgil, you know? They are always fighting over really dumb things, like his hoodie or his hair or why he wasn’t dating. After his coming out to Roman, Virgil just didn’t want to deal with questions his parents might ask. He could never tell them that he was gay. 

Virgil rubs his eyes, telling himself to stop sitting here thinking and go home. He gets up on the platform and quickly hits a few buttons to turn back on the lights to the house and the stage lights out. He scrambles down the ladder when an unexpected voice says, “Hey, Virge.” 

Startled, Virgil’s feet slip and he falls, “Shit!” He feels his body tense as he readies himself for the inevitable contact with the ground.

Instead, he is surprised again by a pair of arms catching him from the fall. 

“I guess the promise was that I wouldn’t fall for you, not the other way around,” Roman’s amused voice came. Virgil feels his heart skip a beat having nothing to do with the fall he just experienced. 

He opens his eyes and lets out a laugh of relief, “Roman, warn a guy next time, will ya?”

Roman winces at Virgil’s point, “Sorry. Still excited I guess.”

“Yeah, the cast did great,” Virgil responds as he places his feet on the floor. “Best Musical and all. I’m sure it wouldn’t have happened without you and Alana getting your own nominations.”

“That’s kind, but it was a group effort,” adds Roman as he helps Virgil get steady on his feet. 

“I’m sorry,” Virgil teases, “But is the great Roman being humble? I never thought I would see the day.” 

“You wound me, sir,” Roman retorts, bumping Virgil with his shoulder. “I’ll have you know, humility is the least of my many redeeming qualities.”

“Oh, right, my apologies,” Virgil laughs as he rubs the back of his neck, “I forgot who I was talking to.” 

Roman picks up Virgil’s backpack from where he had unceremoniously thrown it on the ground, dusting it off, “I wanted to ask, some of us were going to go get ice cream to celebrate. Logan and Patton are coming.”

“Oh,” Virgil responds. As soon as he says it, he wants to smack himself in the face. Really? All of that clever banter and now all you have is oh?

Roman extends his hand to Virgil, still holding the backpack in the other hand, “You up for it, or do you need to get home?”

Virgil swallows hard, trying to ignore the somersaults his stomach was doing, as he takes the offered hand. The simple touch is like flipping the switch in his head that made him worry and panic. For Roman, he has all the time in the world. 

“Yeah, ice cream sounds nice.”  

“Sweet,” Roman slings the backpack on his own shoulder, keeping a hold of Virgil’s hand. 

~:-:~

Virgil stands backstage at the High School Theater Awards Gala, fidgeting with the sleeves on his borrowed-from-the-costume-department metallic purple jacket. Talyn had insisted he wear it due to how it matched his purple Converse he had insisted on wearing. He didn’t mind the look it gave him with his black dress pants and button down shirt, only it was a bit impractical given his task of helping Alana manage the blue sparkling dress that had earned the nomination. He wasn’t sure why it was him helping and not one of the other techies who had the job during the show, but he didn’t ask questions.

On stage they are announcing another award, a technical award. The school had won for best costume already, thanks to Talyn’s beautiful and practical designs. They had taken everything into account, such as Alana’s nervous fidgeting with the beading on the dress, a habit she often showed backstage as she prepared for this section of the show. The costume department had reinforced the beading to allow her to fuss without breaking it. 

Virgil checks on the single flower he had placed in his pocket earlier, ensuring it is still okay. His breath catches at the sight of the red petals against the black lining of the jacket. He swallows hard and closes the jacket, nodding to himself. Now is not the time to think of that. Roman would win his award. He returns his attention to Alana, walking up to her spot in the wings.  

Virgil bites at his thumb as he looks across the stage from his current place. In the other wing Roman sits on a box, staring at the floor, blankly. His body reads as tense, folded up on itself more than Virgil is used to from the man. 

Roman had been acting weird the few days leading up to the Gala. He was more argumentative, more withdrawn, and refused to listen to reason. He insisted on using all of his free time and energy to work and rework the song for the Gala, ignoring their pleas for him to take care of himself. They had all tried to distract him by watching Disney movies or playing board games. Patton had baked cookies and brought him food whenever he refused to stop working. Logan had made a schedule to help Roman optimize his time to take care of himself. 

Virgil, admittedly, didn’t really know what to do. He had spent most of his time just sitting with Roman as he worked through the song, not saying much except the occasional reassurance that Roman knew what he was doing. Virgil wanted to do more, but he just didn’t understand. The performance had nothing to do with who won the award. This performance was supposed to be for fun.

Yet Virgil is nervous too, isn’t he? Maybe because he was worried of what would happen if Roman lost the award. Or maybe for other reasons. Now wasn’t the time to worry about it. 

He looks at Alana, acknowledging her own anxious energy as she messes with the reinforced beads, “You okay? You know you already won, right?”

Earlier they had announced her win.  She had been crying in relief and excitement as they had been getting set up for the performance, but now she clearly seems on edge. All that was left out of their nominations were Roman for Best Supporting Actor in a Musical and Best musical.

“I just don’t want to let anyone down,” Alana admits. She turns slightly to look at him without moving the dress, “Yeah. Can you do me a favor though, before I go on?”

“Yeah, what is it?”

She nods across the stage, “Go calm him down. He’s making me nervous looking that pale.”

Virgil snorts, “You say that like I haven’t been trying to all week. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Go talk to him?”

“You think I’m your best bet for talking?”

“Just try. You always have an effect on him. I think he needs you right now.”

Pushing the knot in his stomach down, Virgil agrees he has to try, “Alright. Just don’t move until you step on that stage, got it?”

Alana nods again, so Virgil slips around the backstage, avoiding all of the moving people and props, until he ends up behind Roman. Virgil stops and tries to think of something to make Roman laugh. He could just say hi, but that could scare the guy if he wasn’t careful. 

He could say what he was thinking: that he would never get tired of Roman in the Prince costume. That Roman had nothing to worry about. That he would make them all understand why he was nominated in the first place. That everyone was so proud of him, that Virgil was so proud of him. That he was glad they got locked in that choir room. That he was glad they were friends. That he, maybe, wanted… No, it wasn’t time to worry about the gift in his pocket and the words he might  end up saying. 

Virgil takes a deep breath before choosing his words, “I was going to say something clever, but honestly I got nothing.”

Roman keeps staring absently at the floor, “Hey, Virge.”

A stagehand passes them, placing a hand on Roman’s shoulder as he does so, “Two minutes, your highness.”

“Thank you two,” Roman mumbles as he stands up. 

“I’m here, Ro. What do you need?” Virgil asks in a rush, wanting to help before it is too late.

Roman’s head snaps up to look at Virgil and the use of the nickname. Virgil swallows the lump in his throat as he realizes he had never actually said that name before, only sending it in group messages with Logan and Patton before. He isn’t sure if its okay or not with Roman.

Roman gives a small smile, “Honestly? You won’t hate me?”

“Not possible,” answers Virgil as he crouches down so that he can be eye level with Roman. “Whatever it is, I got it, promise.”

“Just… hold my hand?” asks the Prince in a small voice. 

Virgil takes Roman’s hands in his own, his heart hammering hard inside him. He looks over the actor, not saying anything as Roman holds on and closes his eyes. Virgil can’t help but watch in awe as Roman takes deep breaths, seemingly breathing in confidence with each breath. 

“One minute,” the stage hand comes back and informs them. “Mic is going live now.”

Roman stands, nodding, pulling Virgil with him, still holding his hand while he takes his position in the wing. Virgil can’t help but notice the almost electric feeling in his hand in Roman’s. He’d be lying if he didn’t say it was intoxicating, standing in the wings next to  Roman Prince about to go on stage. 

The music comes in under the MCs voices, helping to set the tone for the love song. Roman gives a final squeeze to Virgil’s hand before he lifts it up and kisses it softly, causing Virgil’s brain to go crazy with bells and alarms. Virgil reaches up and straightens the crown on Roman’s head before giving him the thumbs up and a smile. 

Roman and Alana enter the stage and sing the song, “Do I Love You Because You’re Beautiful” like they were born singing it. They hit all of the notes, the staging is natural, and they both look absolutely stunning. Virgil just watches from his place in the wings, like he had every time the song was done for their show. He just adores how Roman sings the song, so full of meaning and emotion. He would never admit it, but it was his favorite moment in the whole show. He ignores the lump in his throat that forms when he realises its the last time he will watch them perform this song together. 

They end the song to the roar of applause at the kiss. Roman and Alana take their bows before Roman escorts his princess off stage towards Virgil. The two of them are beaming, knowing that they nailed it. Virgil can’t help but beam with pride for the two of them. 

Not saying anything, Roman lets go of Alana’s hand and takes Virgil’s. He doesn’t stop as he pulls Virgil through the crowded backstage, taking his mic and handing it to the techie waiting for it without breaking stride. 

“Roman?” Virgil finally asks when he finds his voice. “Where are we going?”

“Need some air,” Roman answers breathlessly as he pushes on a door marked with an exit sign. “Come on.”

“Wait,” Virgil says as he stops. He takes off his shoe and places it in the doorway, preventing the door from closing completely behind them. “We don’t want to get locked out.”

Roman nods and walks a few steps away from the building into the alleyway, letting go of Virgil’s hand, “You’re always looking out for us.”

Virgil leans against the brick wall as he watches Roman pace in the alley, just trying to catch his breath and calm himself down. Roman’s hands are on his hips as he walks the nervous energy out, causing Virgil to grin before saying, “You did it, Roman. You guys killed it.”

Roman shakes his head, a smile spreading across his face, “Yeah? You think so?”

“Obviously,” Virgil adds as he crosses his arms to try and stop them from shaking. “They’d be crazy to not have you win your category. Anyone with eyes can see you deserve it.”

“That… means a lot, coming from you,” admits Roman. 

“Uh, I’ve been trying to tell you that all week!”

Roman laughs as he approaches Virgil, staying on the bottom stair,  “Well, you know, I never do listen.”

“Oh, I’m well aware.”

“Hey, Prince!” Alana’s voice comes as she leans her head out the doorway, working to put her earrings back in her ears. “Get your butt back in here. They’re getting ready to announce your category.” 

“Coming,” Roman responds as Alana disappears back inside. Virgil grabs Roman’s hand as he starts to pass, “Ro, wait, I almost forgot.” He pulls out the single rose from his inside coat pocket and extends it to Roman, his hand shaking. “For good luck, not that you need it.”

Roman takes another step towards him, “You shouldn’t have. I didn’t get you anything.”

Before Virgil can say anything, Roman kisses Virgil softly, gently, yet electrifying. Virgil is caught off guard and tense for a moment before he relaxes into the embrace, closing his eyes and accepting the moment. 

“Roman!” barks Alana. 

Roman pulls back, causing Virgil to come back to reality, at the separation. “I’m sorry. I…” Roman mutters as he hurries past Virgil and heads inside before Virgil can say anything.  

Virgil stands there, stunned for a moment as he tries to process what just happened. Roman Prince had just kissed him. And Virgil had wanted it to keep going. It's the most alive Virgil remembers feeling. He hears a commotion inside the theater and snaps back to reality. Roman. 

Virgil grabs his shoe and heads into the theater, and hears the MC read all the nominees in Roman’s category. He starts running, sliding into the wing as they read off, “And the winner for Best Supporting Actor in a Musical goes to Roman Prince.”

Roman walks on stage, radiating at the announcement, waving to the crowd. Virgil knows Roman needs the validation from others when it comes to his creative work. And now he had it. Virgil joined the cheering as tears started filling his eyes. He can’t help the pride welling up inside of him for his friend. 

Roman accepts the trophy and waves it in the air, signing thank you to the audience as the MCs start ushering him back towards the wings to keep the show going. Virgil isn’t thinking, he just starts moving towards Roman coming off stage. His Prince’s eyes find him, tears of joy shimmering, as Virgil offers him a hand and pulls him further off stage and out of the way.

 “Virgil, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have...”

Virgil leans in and kisses Roman to stop him from talking. Virgil is gentle, but pushes all of the things he hasn’t said to Roman into it. All of the longing, the pining, the quiet hoping. Roman melts into him, wrapping an arm around him to pull them closer together. Virgil pulls back and wipes away a tear that had fallen down Roman’s cheek with a soft smile.  “Butterflies,” he says in response to Roman’s statement earlier. “You give me butterflies. Always.” 

#sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic #prinxiety fanfic #virgil sanders #roman sanders #roman prince #logan sanders #patton sanders #thomas sanders #human au #theater kids #theater awards #kisses #homophonia mention #kiss #fall #awards #butterflies

[ggukcangetit]

Tomorrow: Jungkook x Reader

**

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Genre: Fluff. Grad student au!; grad student! jungkook; grad student! reader; grad student! bts

Word count: 4.6k

Warnings: Suggestive language, mild kissing. Not much else really.

Summary: At the beginning of your third year of your PhD program, you didn’t expect many changes. Until the new PhD cohort started classes, and Jeon Jungkook became part of your group of friends.

A/N: i just wrote this randomly with zero plot in mind. idk what this ended up becoming but read it and lemme know if you like it? 

“Choi is a madwoman. I swear she makes me do so many lit reviews just to see me suffer.” Park Jimin, 2nd year PhD student, works part time at HopeWorld dance studio, and is currently regretting many of his life choices.

“I told you not to say yes to every single project that came your way.” Min Yoongi, 4th year PhD student, weekend DJ at Club Moonlight, recipient of the university’s most prestigious research grant, currently lives in a posh apartment four streets away from the main research lab.

“We’re older. Which means we have more experience. Which means we tend to be right more often.” Kim Seokjin, another 4th year PhD student, enrolled into the PhD program after realising that the completion of his MBA meant he would have to join the family business, amateur chef with professional sass, and sole reason behind Min Yoongi being able to afford living in a posh apartment four streets away from the main research lab.

“Not when you bet Tae he couldn’t finish grading Kang’s first year Intro class papers in 24 hours.” Jung Hoseok, 3rd year PhD student, simultaneously working on a second Master’s degree, also happens to run HopeWorld dance studio during his oodles of free time.

“Speaking of, weren’t you supposed to treat us if you lost the bet, Seokjin?” Kim Namjoon, 3rd year PhD student, plant dad, head of the graduate student council, and all-around overachiever.

“Tae was supposed to choose the place. Did you decide on which exorbitantly expensive restaurant Seokjin is going to take us to, Tae?” Y/L/N Y/N, 3rd year PhD student, roommates with Namjoon and Hoseok, addicted to bubble tea.

“I have a better plan. The incoming first year PhDs are supposed to have their orientation tomorrow. I think Seokjin should organise a mixer to welcome them.” Kim Taehyung, aforementioned ‘Tae’, 2nd year PhD student, works part time at the local art gallery, roommates with Park Jimin, deceptively fast at grading papers.

“I do not remember agreeing to that,” said Seokjin, with a frown, shutting his laptop with a definitive snap.

“Come on, it’s not like you can’t afford it,” Yoongi remarked, not having looked up from the large stack of papers in front of him. “If you can insist on paying 3/4ths of the ridiculously high rent of our apartment even though we could have moved into the perfectly reasonable priced place 20 minutes away from the lab, you can damn well afford to host a mixer for the incoming cohort.”

“20 minutes by car. It takes 45 minutes to walk there, Yoongi. Or do I need to remind you of the fact that only Y/N and Sooyoung own cars in our department?” scoffed Seokjin.

“Do I hear trouble in paradise? Have Yoongi and Seokjin finally had their first fight after years of marital bliss?” Lim Sooyoung, 4th year PhD student, part-time yoga instructor, full-time reluctant designated driver due to being the only other PhD student in the department with a car. 

“Hilarious,” grumbled Seokjin. “That joke is about as old as the milk carton at the bottom of Namjoon’s fridge.”

“That’s still there?” asked Hoseok, scandalised. “You told me you threw that out 4 months ago!”

“It’s a limited edition Blue Bean milk carton! I couldn’t throw it out, Hobi,” replied Namjoon, sheepishly. The use of Hoseok’s nickname meant that he had run out of logical arguments against throwing out the milk carton that had been purchased three months into their first year of doctoral studies. 

“Have you ever considered emptying out the contents and keeping just the carton?” you asked. This suggestion was met with the raising of an eyebrow and the throwing of an airpod by Namjoon. Unfortunately, this also meant that the airpod didn’t reach its intended target.

“Ow!” exclaimed Hoseok, rubbing the side of his face where the airpod had made contact. “This is why you’ve been through 33 pairs of airpods in the last year, Namjoon! You have dormant violent tendencies and terrible hand-eye coordination.”

“Now back to that mixer,” said Taehyung, turning towards Seokjin. “I’m thinking around 5 pm at the Underground should be good. What do you think?”

“Fine,” sighed Seokjin, reluctantly. “I’ll send a message on Slack. Who’s got the first years’ contact info?”

xxx

The next day, you found yourself struggling to find parking outside the Underground, despite it being 4.30 pm on a Tuesday. Namjoon and Hoseok were sitting at the back and discussing ways in which they could watch as many of the student films that were being shown over the weekend, while Taehyung sat shotgun and muttered to himself as he tried to destroy some kind of adversary on that godforsaken game that he always seemed to play. You whipped out your phone and started texting Sooyoung about whether she had found any parking.

SY: just parked… sending you the location… its behind the club

SY: is seokjin with you

Y/N: thanks!

Y/N: no i’ve got tae joon n hobi 

SY: ok… wonder how he’s getting here… yoongi’s with me… said seokjin left a while back

Y/N: idk… sure he found something… uber or lyft or whatever… don't worry he won't ditch lol 

Y/N: i found a spot damnnnnn. cya in a bit

SY: lol tae wouldn’t let him live if he ditched

SY: nice :D yoongi and i are in the purple section

The purple section was undoubtedly the best spot in the Underground, as you had discovered almost 2 years ago. Being new to the city, you had basically followed Joon and Hobi wherever they went to socialize or get food. It was around the end of your second month in the program that Seokjin planned a mid-semester gathering, refusing to eat at, in his words, “another cheap taco truck masquerading as kitschy Instagram bait”. That was your first encounter with the Underground as well as your first experience in the purple section. Simply put, it had the best sofas and chairs, an abundance of vintage arcade games, easy access to the bar and food counter, and a separate music setup. It also cost a lot more to sit at the purple section, but Seokjin had never been the type to scrimp when it came to anything. It had become a kind of tradition after that; every time someone had a birthday, Seokjin would reserve the purple section for the evening. Not having grown up surrounded by luxury and riches, it was sometimes difficult for you to understand how Seokjin never thought twice before spending money on things. Then again, you doubted you would’ve been this thoughtful even if you had this kind of money at your disposal. Seokjin might’ve been hard to read at times, but his heart was in the right place.

Speaking of, you spotted Seokjin standing next to a couple of people you didn’t recognise. Deciding that this was probably the best time to get introduced to the first years, you walked over to them with a smile.

“Just deposited Joon, Hobi, and Tae near the bar. I feel sorry for your tab today, Seokjin.”

Seokjin lifted one of his thick arched eyebrows at you and then burst into his signature windshield wiper laugh. “I’ll give them a free pass today. Afterall, it’s the beginning of a new academic year!”

“You’re planning on dumping all of Kang’s data analysis on them, aren’t you?” you asked, trying to suppress a grin.

“Ah, Y/N, you know me so well,” he grinned, his features lighting up mischievously. “By the way, here’s two thirds of the new cohort. Song Yeri and Jeon Jungkook.”

You glanced at the two unfamiliar people and smiled in greeting. Yeri was a petite girl with long black hair who quickly fell into conversation with you. Jungkook, on the other hand, gave you a soft nod and walked over to where Jimin was opening a couple of beers. 

“So is Professor Kang someone we should be worried about?” asked Yeri, not giving you much time to pay much attention to Jungkook. “I wouldn’t want to be unprepared.”

Seokjin laughed at her worried tone. “Straight off the bat, huh?” 

Yeri flushed slightly, tucking her hair behind her ear self-consciously. “Oh no- I mean, it just seemed like that from your conversation!”

“Don’t worry, Yeri,” you assured her. “Seokjin’s a fourth year - not much phases him. He’s doing his PhD under Kang so he has to do tons of data analysis for her projects. Which he sometimes dumps on people who have been bothering him.”

Yeri looked suitably concerned at this new piece of information. She glanced at Seokjin’s handsome profile and smiled uncertainly. You couldn’t help but giggle at her reaction. It really was difficult to get a grasp on everyone’s personalities just by their looks. Each and every guy in the department was strikingly handsome, and Sooyoung, the only other female besides you, looked like she had walked out of a fashion show. It would’ve been extremely intimidating if you hadn’t personally been a witness to how clumsy Namjoon was, how lame Seokjin’s puns were, how scared Yoongi and Hoseok were of anything remotely resembling an insect, how Tae hadn’t managed to cook a single meal without setting off the fire alarm or giving Jimin food poisoning, how Jimin often collided into objects because he was laughing too much, or how Sooyoung had gotten lost multiple times on her way to campus in spite of driving along the same road for more than 3 years. You were sure Yeri, and the other two first years, would definitely get over the initial nerves and intimidation surrounding their colleagues. In fact, if Jungkook’s animated conversation with Jimin was anything to go by, it seemed like he had gotten over that already.

“Come on, I’ll introduce you to the others.” You steered Yeri in Sooyoung and Yoongi’s direction.

xxx

“Thanksgiving next week! I cannot wait to get away from this blasted Ethics class!” 

You were currently in Seokjin and Yoongi’s shared posh apartment, trying to proof-read a paper before the conference deadline. On the couch next to you sat Seokjin and Namjoon, eyes blinking rapidly in tiredness, while Jimin sat across from you, his silver hair tied into a messy ponytail. 

The door to the apartment swung open at that moment as Jungkook walked in, armed with takeout from at least 4 different places.

“I come bearing sustenance,” he announced, as Jimin jumped up with surprising alacrity and rushed towards him. 

“Your Busan blood runs strong, my friend,” said Jimin, appreciatively, eyeing all the different containers on the table. “I knew I could count on you.”

“That makes zero sense, Jimin,” scoffed Sooyoung. She was buried deep inside Yoongi’s favorite bean bag, having taken it over since the owner was currently not at home. “But li’l Jeon has proven to be a valuable addition to our department.”

“Ugh! Don’t call him that! Li’l Jeon sounds like something else,” you said, scrunching your nose in distaste.

“I agree,” replied Jungkook, rolling up his sleeves as he began opening the containers carefully. “But i can assure you of one thing - there is nothing li’l about this Jeon. In any sense of the word.”

“I’ve lost my appetite,” you declared, throwing a particularly soft pillow over your face. 

Three months into the semester and Jungkook had become an integral part of your group of friends. It had turned out that Jungkook and Jimin knew each other very well, having gone to school together in Busan. It’s not as if you hadn’t become well acquainted with the other two first years - Yeri still consulted you whenever she needed advice on how to deal with grading or professors or classes in general; and Lauren, an international student from France, was very friendly and turned up at all the department hangouts. But Jungkook seemed like he had been part of your group forever - not someone who had met almost everyone for the first time about 3 months ago. As was customary with first year PhD students, they were required to complete a few mandatory courses before being allowed to customize their coursework around their individual research interests. So even though Jungkook had all the same classes with Yeri and Lauren, almost every moment outside of classes was spent with one of you.

“I can’t believe it’s already time for Thanksgiving,” said Jimin, popping an entire dumpling into his mouth. “-ime eeli plyz.”

“Chew your food, you barbarian,” scolded Seokjin, blowing on a particularly large piece of fried chicken before putting the entirety into his mouth. A couple of chews and a large swallow later, Seokjin was ready for a second piece.

“Speak for yourself,” remarked Sooyoung, holding onto her food protectively.

“I remember Yoongi telling us during our orientation,” Namjoon piped up, a can of beer in his hand. “‘In a PhD program, days are slow, but semesters are fast’. I thought he was high at that time, but I realise now that he’s a true genius.”

“I still don’t get why you’re such a Yoongi fanboy,” grumbled Seokjin, settling comfortably into the couch once again. “I’m just as wise, and definitely a lot funnier.”

“Don’t forget about being a drama queen,” said Sooyoung, nudging Seokjin’s knee with her toes. “You’ve got that one over Yoongi as well.”

“Four years and you're still as ungrateful,” sighed Seokjin, looking uncharacteristically cheerful at the teasing. 

“At least I’m consistent,” shrugged Sooyoung. “Gimme some of your kimchi.”

“Consistency is only useful across data samples,” remarked Seokjin, picking up a small amount of kimchi with his chopsticks and feeding Sooyoung. “Not sure how desirable it is in human relationships. Life would be unbearably dull in that case.” 

“They’ve been dancing around each other for as long as I’ve known them. Why can’t they just get together and stop their incessant flirting in front of the rest of us,” you muttered darkly, vigorously pouring chili oil over your ramen. You, Namjoon, and Jungkook were still getting your food from the kitchen, while Jimin had gone ahead and joined the incessantly flirting pair in the living room.

“Y/N is always so bitter about anything to do with romance,” chuckled Namjoon. “Jungkook, do you know how annoyed she was when Hobi started dating last year?”

“No, I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of hearing that story.” Jungkook glanced at you cheekily, while popping open a can of beer.

“She didn’t speak to him for an entire week. Which was particularly inconvenient because the three of us had just started living in the same apartment, and we were all assigned to assist Choi on her year-end department survey. Poor Hobi thought he might have to find a new place to live.” 

“I’m sorry? Were you the one who came back home after extended office hours to find your friend butt-naked and balls-deep inside the barista who works across the street from our lab? I couldn’t get coffee from there for a month because I couldn’t look Sujin in the eye without immediately imagining Hobi in his natural drawers.”

Jungkook, who had chosen this exact moment to take a sip of beer, spat out the amber liquid on an unsuspecting Namjoon. 

“That’s what you get for deriving pleasure from other people’s misfortunes,” you remarked, smugly.

xxx

It was around 11.30 in the morning, when you heard a loud knocking on your apartment door. Classes had broken for Thanksgiving yesterday, which meant that today was your day to catch up on all the sleep you had missed over the last three months. But instead, you had been woken up much ahead of your intended 16 hours of sleep schedule. 

“You look awful.”

Jungkook walked into the apartment, looking far too fresh and sprightly for your liking. He was wearing that godforsaken plaid shirt that hung loosely off his body, but would highlight his rather well-defined muscles every time he happened to move in a particular way. You absolutely hated what a tease his shirt was. Fortunately for you, he wasn’t wearing the skin tight black jeans which always looked like they were about to burst at the seams, thanks to Jungkook’s equally well-defined thighs. 

“It’s not even noon. Why can’t you call before showing up? Where are your manners, Jeon?” you grumbled, checking to see if your pajamas had any glaring holes in them.

“I need help with the data analysis,” he mumbled sheepishly. “Professor Lee gave me a really tough dataset because I breezed through the first two assignments.”

“Still don’t see why you came over without any notice at this ungodly hour,” you continued, tapping your foot impatiently.

“I also got jjajangmyeon, kimbap, and bubble tea from Kimchi Palace.”

“What kind of bubble tea?” you asked, pushing yourself off the doorframe.

“Strawberry milk tea, half sugar, light ice, with extra strawberry jelly, and no boba.”

“I suppose it isn’t that early.”

A few minutes later, you were explaining principal component analysis to Jungkook, while eating jjajangmyeon and sipping bubble tea. The kimbap was put into the fridge for later, in case Namjoon or Hoseok wanted to have some when they got home at night. 

Jungkook was very intelligent; he picked up new concepts quite easily and was one hundred percent committed to whatever he worked on. He also had a refreshing sense of humor, where he didn’t always crack jokes or stay in the limelight, but his occasional quips were enough to send everyone into fits of laughter. He got along extremely well with each of them. He and Taehyung often walked around the city taking obscure, artsy photographs. Seokjin had basically adopted Jungkook as a younger brother due to his video gaming abilities. Namjoon was glad to finally have someone who enjoyed going on nature hikes with him, while Hoseok had been hugely impressed at Jungkook’s dancing and promptly asked him to help out at his studio. Jimin already knew Jungkook quite well, and Yoongi was more than happy to teach someone else the intricacies of cooking different kinds of meat. Even Sooyoung, who usually remained closed off from new people, had allowed Jungkook to use her car whenever someone needed to be picked up but she was too exhausted to drive. 

“I’m sorry I came by so early. I know you’ve been looking forward to catching up on sleep over the break,” he said softly, looking up from his laptop. That was the other thing that had struck you about Jungkook, he was very perceptive and sensitive to people around him. A rare quality which you appreciated far more than you let on.

“It’s fine. You saved me from having to cook lunch. That itself deserves many prizes from my end. You know how I hate cooking,” you shrugged.

“Speaking of, I’m making dinner for me and Tae tonight. Jimin’s visiting his brother, so it's just the two of us. And since I’d rather not get food poisoning, I’m putting Yoongi’s lamb chop recipe to good use,” he grinned boyishly. “You should come over if you don’t have anything else planned. It’ll save you from cooking another meal.”

“I might take you up on that offer. Let me check if either Joon or Hobi are having dinner at home, otherwise I’ll definitely be there.”

xxx

Taehyung and Jimin (and now Jungkook) lived about 10 minutes away from your place. It was a much larger apartment, so three people were more than comfortable there. Jungkook was staying there until he found another place to stay, but judging by how happy Jimin and Taehyung were with him around, he would probably end up staying with them permanently.

“I found parking at your building for the first time today,” you remarked, dropping your bag on the nearest couch. 

“Half the people are visiting family over the weekend. You won’t be so lucky next time.” Taehyung walked over lazily, his thick black hair falling messily over his eyes. He was dressed in his favorite Celine t-shirt and a pair of the loosest pants you had seen till date.

“The perm’s still looking good, Tae,” you grinned at him, taking the soda from his hand. 

“I’m planning on getting it done again once it wears off,” he said happily, settling into the couch. “Catch up on your sleep? Or did Gguk ruin your Thanksgiving plans as well?”

“‘As well’?” you asked, trying to suppress a grin.

“Taking advantage of the nearly empty laundry room and washing all the sheets does not count as ‘ruining’ anyone’s Thanksgiving plans!” yelled Jungkook from inside the kitchen.

“He woke me up at 7 am and stripped the sheets off my bed, emptied all our laundry bags, and locked me out of my room so that I wouldn’t dirty the bare mattress with my grubby clothes.” Taehyung’s grumbling was always extremely funny because he would end up pouting by the end of his rant and no one would take him seriously after that.

“Okay, the bread is in the oven and should be ready in about 15. Lamb chops are almost done as well. We’ll be dining in no time,” said Jungkook, flopping onto the couch beside you.

“That gives me enough time to answer the emails Choi sent me this morning. Jimin was right, she’s a madwoman. Doesn’t understand what ‘a break’ is , apparently,” sighed Taehyung, getting up and walking towards his room. “Lemme know when the food is ready.”

3 years ago, if anyone had told you that you would be more than halfway through your PhD having become close friends with seven of the most handsome guys on campus (or even in the country), you would’ve laughed at them and then silently questioned their sanity. But now, you couldn’t imagine life without them. Even Jungkook, you realised, glancing at the boy next to you. He had also become an extremely important part of your life. He didn’t say much, but his actions made things abundantly clear. He was extremely caring and thoughtful, even if he didn’t always have the right words to express himself. 

“What’re you thinking?” he asked, looking at you sleepily.

“That this soda is almost lukewarm.”

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m not.”

Suddenly, you felt a rough set of fingers poking your ribcage. Slowly, but surely, you were squirming in place as you struggled to not spill your soda while Jungkook continued tickling you mercilessly. 

“I know your weakness, remember?” he managed to say between giggles, his voice turning high-pitched as it usually did when he laughed too hard. 

“Gguk stop! The soda! It’ll spill on the carpet!” you gasped, trying to keep your hand steady.

“Oh shit! Sorry. Yeah, Jimin would freak out if he saw a stain on this carpet.” Jungkook let you go so that you could place the soda can on the nearest table. But as soon as you had freed your hands, you jumped on him and pinned him on the couch.

“I also know your weakness, Gguk,” you grinned, deviously, before tickling him with all your might. 

Needless to say, a scenario with two people in their mid-twenties behaving like 4 year olds, was bound to have certain consequences. In this case, it ended with both you and Jungkook falling off the couch, your faces mere inches away from each other. 

This wasn’t the first time you had been struck by how handsome Jungkook was. In fact, you had noticed the exact number of moles on his face and neck, having stopped yourself from reaching out and touching the one under his lower lip on more than one occasion. His large doe eyes also held a certain innocence and wonder in them, even though he was an extremely bright and capable PhD student with a lot of varied knowledge bases. Not just that, his impressive physique had caught you off guard many times. Particularly because it contrasted so heavily with his boyish face.

None of that mattered at this moment, as you could feel his breath on your face. He was so close… If you reached up a little bit, you would be-

“The oven timer’s been beeping for the last 10 minutes. But you both are too busy eye-fucking each other to notice.”

Taehyung’s deep voice caused you both to spring apart from each other, mortification heating up your face and neck. Jungkook’s ears, you noticed, had turned a very beautiful shade of red as well.

Dinner wasn’t as awkward as you expected because Yoongi dropped by a few minutes after your ‘eye-fucking’ session, extremely hungry and annoyed at Seokjin - who had decided to use this night to slow cook some pork.

“Gguk, this is really good,” said Yoongi, once all of you had finished eating. “Didn’t think you’d be able to get it right on the first go! Y/N, what’d you think? You’ve been awfully quiet the whole time.”

You nodded your head in response, keenly aware of Taehyung’s intense gaze that followed your every move. “It was really good, Gguk. Thanks for a lovely meal.”

“Do you need a ride home, Yoongi?” you asked, once all the dishes had been cleared away. “I’ve got my car.”

“Life-saver. I need to pick up a tin of coffee from the convenience store. I’ll meet you at the parking lot in 10?” said Yoongi slipping on his jacket.

“Wait, I’ll go with you. I need to buy some soda,” said Taehyung, springing up suddenly. Not bothering to change out of his slippers, he rushed out after Yoongi, but not before glancing quickly between you and Jungkook and sending you a rather outrageous wink.

“That was… weird,” you remarked, relieved to see that Jungkook had missed your exchange with Taehyung. “Anyway, thanks again for a great meal. You’re a really good cook, Gguk.”

“Thanks,” he said, not really looking up from his phone. He had also been rather silent throughout the meal.

“I’m heading out then. See you later, Gguk.” You picked up your bag and proceeded to open the door.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?” You turned around to find Jungkook standing rather close to you. You could see the mole below his lower lip quite clearly from here.

“You never told me what you were thinking about.” His voice was a lot more husky than usual, and you gulped as you realised you had no clue what to say to him.

“I-”

Before you could finish your half-formed sentence, Jungkook’s lips were on yours, kissing you slowly. After being frozen for a second or two, your hands made their way into his soft brown curls, relishing in the feeling of having him so close to you. You realised that you had been wanting to do this for a while now. Maybe even since the first day of classes, when he had offered you his cup of coffee after the machine in the department had stopped working. 

“Never mind,” he said, breaking the kiss with a soft ‘chu’. “You can tell me another time. Yoongi’s probably waiting at the parking lot.”

“And Tae might come back any minute now,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, a soft smile on his face. 

“Tomorrow?” It seemed like your brain had short circuited. 

“Yeah.” He dipped down and placed another chaste kiss on your mouth, before displaying his adorable bunny smile. “But even that seems too far away right now.”

You were really grateful that you managed to get both yourself and Yoongi home without crashing the car that night. Once you got home, you checked your phone and found two messages - a text from Jungkook checking if you had reached home safe, and another one from Taehyung.

T: the couch is off limits. don’t even think about it...

xxx

please do not repost anywhere. reblog if you enjoyed the story!

#jungkook #jungkook fic #taehyung #jimin #yoongi #hoseok #namjoon #seokjin #bts #bangtan #bangtan fic #c me write bangtan

[skzsauce01]

42nd Moon Pt 1

Description: By some stroke of luck, you get off the waitlist of your biology class. You’d never have guessed you’d find your soulmate there, let alone that he already has a girlfriend... Or that he comes from a fraternity of werewolves.

Warning: none

Word count: 1.5k

Pairing: werewolf!Jisung x fem!reader,  werewolf!Hyunjin x fem!reader

A/N: Please stay healthy during this pandemic! Wash thy handz.

Chapter List

“Is anyone sitting here?”

Jisung raises his head from the homework that he has totally done to see you gesturing to a seat in front of him.

Something about you enthralls him. He swallows down a lump in his throat before being able to answer. “Yeah, but there isn’t anyone there.” He points to the seat left of where you indicated towards.

“Thanks,” you say with a smile.

“I’m Jisung,” he introduces himself. “Just got off the waitlist?” 

“Y/N,” you return. “And yeah. I hope I‘m not too far behind.”

“Not at all,” Jisung shakes his head. “I’d show you my notes, but it’s probably better if you looked at Hyunjin’s.” He gestures to the chair you asked about earlier. “He should be here any moment.”

As if on cue, a male walks through the door and greets Jisung with a wave.

The second you lay your eyes on him, you can feel your heart stop and all the heat rush to your face. This phenomenon you have no explanation for. Sure, he is tall and very attractive, but physical traits aren’t enough for you to have this kind of reaction. As if the two of you share the same mind, he too freeze in shock upon laying eyes upon you, eyes wide and jaw dropped. 

The only thing that brings the both of you back to reality is a voice from the hall.

“Hyunjin? Are you here already?”

The one you assume is Hyunjin turns around with open arms and greets the girl who bounces through the door. She jumps into them and he wraps them around her.

“Hey, Jiyoung, what are you doing here? Don’t you have another class right now too?”

A pit gouges its way into your stomach when you see another girl latching onto your seat neighbor like that. You furrow your brows, wondering why you are feeling like this, so you shake your head and concentrate on your hands. This is ridiculous, you tell yourself. He has a girlfriend, and you don’t even know him. Still, you begin to gnaw at your cheeks, impatiently awaiting Jiyoung’s departure.

“I just wanted to see you. Here I got you this.” She reaches into her bag and takes out boba.

Hyunjin’s eyes sparkle upon seeing the drink. “Thanks, Sweetie. You’re the best.”

“Of course I am,” she grins. “Alright, I gotta go now.” She tiptoes to give Hyunjin a peck on the lips and then waves to Jisung. “Bye guys!”

Jisung waves back and waits for her to leave before teasing his friend. “Aren’t you two sweet.”

“You’re just jealous,” Hyunjin sighs with a roll of his eyes.

“Anyway,” Jisung transitions, “this is Y/N; she just got off the waitlist. Could you show her your notes?”

Hyunjin turns his head towards you with narrowed eyes. His heartbeat increases along with yours as the two of you make eye contact. 

“No,” he mutters.

Jisung blinks in surprise. “What the heck dude? It’s just your notes.” He turns to you. “Sorry, Y/N, he’s not usually like this, I swear.” And back to Hyunjin, “Come on bro. You’re the one who always says no one can read my notes; that’s why we’re asking you.”

Hyunjin grunts but digresses. He leans his head on one hand while handing you his notebook with the other while avoiding eye contact. 

“Thank you,” you say uncertainly. Your heart leaps when your fingers come into contact during the transaction.

Jisung apologizes for his friend once more and soon you are busy copying his notes. 

Jisung leans forward and whispers to his friend. “Yo, what’s wrong with you? You were totally fine when Jiyoung was here.”

“It’s nothing,” Hyunjin growls.

“Don’t turn wolf on me,” Jisung jokes. “We’re in pu--”

Jisung’s eyes widen once the gears in his brain fit together. With a gasp, he grabs Hyunjin’s wrist and pulls his sleeve up.

“What the heck?” snaps the taller of the two.

“Oh my moon,” Jisung breathes as he stares at the glowing bracelet of a tattoo on Hyunjin’s wrist. The ring of pattern is complete everywhere but a spot on the inside of the wrist, a spot he knows you have the complimenting part. “She’s your soulmate!”

“Could you say that louder?” Hyunjin hisses, pulling his sleeve back down to hide the golden glow.

“Sorry,” Jisung apologizes. “But what about Jiyoung?”

“That’s exactly why I’m being so rude!”

“But she’s your soulmate! You can’t just ignore her!”

“And Jiyoung’s my girlfriend, so what’s your point?” Hyunjin challenges.

“I’m done. Thanks, Hyunjin,” you , unaware of the conversation between the two, interrupt.

Jisung narrows his eyes at his friend while burying his nose in his forearms on the table, thinking about you and Hyunjin’s decision for the rest of the lecture.

“You’ve got to tell Chan.”

“No I don’t! We just have to get through this semester without any incident and everything will go back to normal.”

“You can’t do that; you aren’t physically capable of that!”

“Why not? You should know better than anyone that we’re just fine without our soulmates.”

Jisung bites his lip and twiddles his thumbs.

Hyunjin realizes what he said and quickly rubs his friend on the back. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s okay. I mean, I see your point and Jiyoung’s really great, but I think we should still tell Chan.”

“I--”

“Tell me what?”

Jisung looks at Hyunjin. He sighs and rolls up his sleeve.

“This,” he begins. “It was glowing earlier today.”

Chan gasps. “Really? For whom?”

“A new girl in biology discussion today,�� Jisung answers this time.

“Oh, I see what the problem is,” Chan frowns. “Jiyoung.”

Hyunjin nods with his head down.

“And I don’t suppose you are planning to break up with her.”

A head shake.

Chan folds his arms and looks to the sky with a soft hum. 

“We don’t have to be with our soulmates, right?” Hyunjin asks softly.

“No,” agrees Chan. “It’s just that you two are more compatible than anyone else in this universe, and she can increase your powers.”

“So what do you suggest I do?”

“Truth be told, I don’t know either,” Chan admits. “Just carry on as you were, I guess. If the universe has a plan, then it’ll be what it’ll be. Just remember--”

“I can’t mate with Jiyoung, I know,” Hyunjin finishes.

Chan gives the younger male an approving pat on the shoulder. “Don’t forget.”

“-- and he just went “uwwwaagg” and left!”

“Seriously?” you laugh.

Jisung cannot help but smile with you. “Cross my heart! Whoever designed the frat house was not thinking when they installed glass shower doors.”

“Hey guys.” 

You both turn towards the grumble to see Hyunjin trudging up the mountain. Behind him is another male who chirps a greeting. Your biology instructor has assigned you to find an owl pellet with the person sitting next to you. Jisung, with all his brilliant ideas, decides not only do his project at ungodly hours when the pellets “are the most fresh,” but also decides to drag his friend, and consequently, you, along.

Your blood rushes to your face just like it does every time you see Hyunjin, but it’s worse this time upon seeing his fluffy bed-head poking out of his oversized hoodie.

“Why didn’t you wait for me?” Hyunjin scowls while smacking his housemate behind the head. “I used to be the one who has to drag you out of bed, but now you’re early to bio stuff all the time.”

Jisung returns the gesture. “New school year, new me, you know? I just thought I should stop being late and skipping classes all the time.”

“Whatever,” Hyunjin sighs groggily. “So what’s the plan?”

“Try to find pellets, right?”

“Yep,” Jisung agrees while flicking his flashlight on and off. “It’s simple, but let’s stay with our partners, okay? It’s pretty dark right right now.”

The rest of you agree, and Jisung and his partner go west while you and Hyunjin take east.

“How are you?” you try with small talk.

“Been better, no thanks to Jisung,” Hyunjin replies curtly.

You wrack your brain for something else to say, but end up walking with him in silence until you spot a cottonwood tree.

“There!” you point. “Some owls nest in cottonwood, so we can try looking for pellets here.”

You run to the tree and slide to your knees, scrapping the leaves aside until you find what you are looking for. You hold it up to Hyunjin with a proud smile.

“Found one!”

Hyunjin’s eyes widen a tad in surprise at your intelligence and efficiency, not to mention how brightly your smile shines even in this dark forest. He shakes his head to clear such thoughts.

It’s just the soul thing, he reminds himself and tugs on his sleeve to securely hide his glowing mark.

“R-right. Good job,” he stutters and opens a bag for you to drop your find into. “Why don’t you look over there for more, and I’ll keep checking this tree for other pellets?”

You nod and turn your back away from him. The next cottonwood is a bit further away, but at least now you won’t have to keep working in awkward silence with your crush. Once you arrive at your destination, you get on your knees and begin working. After a while, you hear a foot crunch on some leaves behind you.

“Hyunjin, I don’t think this tree has anything.”

“I’m not Hyunjin. Try again!

~ ad.gold

#han jisung #werewolf #werewolf!jisung #soulmate #hyunjin #werewolf!hyunjin #stray kids #skz #03182020

[perufog69]

A Basic Mage Leveling Guide

On March 7, 2019, Novaland Real Estate Group officially announced that it will focus on developing the world-branded tourism and resort mega-urban chain Nova in Vietnam's coastal cities. With the vision and mission of creating and developing into a megacity of tourism - resort - entertainment of the region, Novaland officially gave birth to a child branded Novaworld. The megacities in the Novaworld product chain combining resort tourism and entertainment have a very large scale, ranging from at least 100 hectares to 1,000 hectares. Novaworld Novaland develops product chains such as townhouses, commercial shophouses, detached villas and Songli villas with diverse and modern design styles. In addition, Novaland's investment - construction and design units have brought more than 1,000 complete and complete public utility systems up to international standards with high quality public utilities and services for the public. Novaworld urban area project. Novaland's Novaworld project has a prime location, located in a key position on the most beautiful beach in Vietnam, with first-class facilities, 5-star service, ... affordable prices and extremely attractive sales. Novaworld urban area is more than ever expected to bring customers an ideal place to live, a perfect stopover for domestic and foreign tourists, a peaceful and attractive place to live for now and in the future. provide investors with investment opportunities. Novaland Group officially launched two super products, NovaWorld Phan Thiet (Binh Thuan) and NovaWorld Binh Chau (Ba Ria-Vung Tau) in the tourist and entertainment urban area. The chain of projects is part of the Group's phase 2 development strategy, with two key areas: real estate and tourism services. In addition, Novaland also announced the 1,000ha Aqua City project in Dong Nai. Also on the project launch day, Novaland and Watson University signed a strategic cooperation agreement on training and human resource supply. In addition, Novaland also signed a cooperation strategy on helicopter services with Haikou Investment and Trade Co., Ltd. to provide effective solutions to achieve long-term goals. With continuous efforts, Novaland hopes to enhance Vietnam's position in the international tourism scene, and at the same time turn the emerging region into a leading tourism - resort - entertainment center in the region. , exploit the potential commensurate with the inherent potential. Why should customers choose to buy Novaworld? Novaland Group is a famous real estate brand in Vietnam, especially in the southern region, has implemented more than 40 high-end residential projects in Ho Chi Minh City market. Human capital management. In phase 2 of the development strategy, Novaland focuses on promoting the resort real estate market segment in emerging markets (usually Binh Thuan, Ba Ria-Vung Tau) combined with tourism consulting services. Advanced calendar. The three brands NovaBeach, NovaHills and recently NovaWorld are creating sustainable value for Novaland's long-term development strategy, which aims to provide about 2,400 resort real estate products to the coastal market. It can be said that, after 25 years of establishment and development, Novaland is gradually affirming the right path that it has chosen, and at the same time making efforts to create new values. As a result, 26,000 successful products have served more than 250,000 domestic and foreign customers of Novaland at the HCMC project. Ho Chi Minh City is the clearest proof of the investor's reputation. If you want sustainable cash flow, investing in Novaworld Binh Chau and Novaworld Phan Thiet is currently the safest solution. Please contact for detailed advice. Investor After the success of NovaHill and NovaBeach branded resort projects, Novaland Group officially announced the opening of the first Novaworld project in Phan Thiet-Binthuan and NovaWorld Ho Tram (Badi-Vung Tau). Novaworld urban area developed by Novaland in Phu Quoc-Ken Giang, Can Tho, Ho Chi Minh City and coastal tourist cities, where a large number of domestic and foreign tourists come to relax and entertain. Tram Vung Tau, Phan Thiet-Binh Thuan, Ninh Thuan, Cam Ranh-Khanh Hoa Nha Trang. KEY PRODUCTS AT NOVAWORLD NOVALAND PROJECT Novaland investor builds and develops Novaworld urban area projects, providing many types and products for customers and investors to choose according to their needs, preferences and financial scope. Specifically, the main products of the Novaworld Novaland project include: townhouses, shophouses, duplex villas, and single-family villas facing the sea. Currently, by May 2019, Novaland has officially announced the first phase of Novaworld Phan Thiet, at the same time held the groundbreaking ceremony on May 10, 2019, started construction and officially announced the Novaworld project. Ho Tram Binh Chau to the market. The average selling price of Novaworld project products is as follows: -Apartment 5 x 20m: Price from 3.3 billion to 3.9 billion a unit. - Apartment 6 x 24m: price from 4.5 billion yuan per unit. - Apartment 8 x 20m: starting price from 4.9 billion yuan / set. - Apartment 10 x 20m: starting price from 5.5 billion yuan / set. - Apartment 12 x 20m: starting price from 7 billion yuan / set. According to Novaland's sales policy, customers who book and sign a contract in advance in the first sale will enjoy many rewards. Even close customers who used to own Novaland projects are also entitled to a discount of 1% of the contract value along with a series of other attractive promotions and discounts. Regarding the payment method, buyers of Novaworld Binh Chau and Novaworld Phan Thiet can also rest assured, because the first installment only needs to pay 15% in advance (deposit included), the following installments will be paid in January 1. % within 2-5 years In addition, the bank also supports loans up to 70% of the value. Next could be the previously mentioned hobo. This bag has become most popular designer handbag types available with every designer having one out of their archives. These bags are defined by their oval or crescent shape and have a strap that is just for a specified duration to fit over the shoulder. Might made of soft, flexible materials that offer a slouchy look. For that beginning example with this particular type of bag may be the Salvatore Ferragamo Patent Braided Hobo. Shining in black patent leather, this bag has an outstanding touch using its braided shoulder strap. With the ship now spick and span we visited ports in the islands such as Puerto Rico, St. Thomas and Saint. Vincent in the Virgin Islands we then sailed to your country of Haiti and anchored from the city of Puerto Emporer. Cars evidently offer some sort of blind area for advertisers. My favourite is the Chevrolet Nova. In the UK, carry Vauxhall Nova. No problem there, but in Spain the Nova wasn't quite preferred. 'No va' means 'doesn't go'. It was just this morning that I had become trading emails with Brian and needless to say we were looking at boats. From the process on the communication I pointed out my visit to cross the Atlantic Ocean this semester. I shot him the chek out my article "Missed Goal Becomes A fabulous Adventure" Got written upon the trip. Brian took that moment study a couple other of my superbly written articles. Lucky for us that murdered and 23 injured along this proverb for me personally to browse through. Brian had sent this Proverb to some grown boys and girls. I can attest that content articles live life by this Proverb can actually live your life filled with joy and sense of accomplishment. 90% of your companion in Canada live close to the U.S. border anyway but they https://batdongsanthehemoi.blogspot.com/2021/07/novaworld-ai-o-thi-nghi-duong-cao-cap.html ">Novaworld steal our airwaves without having for them. NBC, CBS, ABC, are all there entirely free. They steal our HBO their own satellite dishes and programmed cards. Not nice! They've television stations of really and specific pay per view programs. But they show only films with mostly Canadian famous actors. That's why no one over here wants to steal Canadian satellite channels. Now let's go to the South Banks. Just outside the town of Bridgewater you discover the popular Rissers Beach . This Nova Scotia beach Novaland will have a kilometer-long (0.6 mile) stretch of white sand, along with nearby boardwalk for walking through the salt marsh. As soon as you get unfrozen perform simply strafe and Frost nova them in place and noticed not even need using blink, bit more . you if you do this is fine too. Inside mind however that may never dismount automatically when you use ice filter. This was the first time in her lifetime that she traveled abroad without mother and father. She always went everywhere only along with her parents (even though she already was more than 40-years-old) because she was psychotic. This really is a big responsibility for me, even so accepted it, and everything was thin. She had no crisis and no moments of isolation. I'd been proud of her behavior during the complete trip.

#Novaworld

[blissfulparker]

Borrowed scarfs and apple tea→fratboy!Tom

Parings→fratboy!tom x reader

Summary→after a semester of flirting and teasing, one apple cider tea on a windy autumn day changes it all.

Warnings→ fluff

A/n→ this is late but its better than not posting it at all, this was requested as a concept by an anon and I loved it and made it into a fic. Hope you enjoy! Also I couldn’t add a read more link since I’m on mobile so I’m sorry!!!

At the beginning of the semester, no one would think that playboy, party-going, fratboy tom holland would calm all his activities for some transfer girl who studied literature.

Shakespeare, Edgar Allen poe, staying in to study, being kicked out of the library at closing time, wearing soft plaid skirts and sweaters in the autumn time. That’s who tom was falling for.

It started out simple, tom noticed you in his literature class when couldn’t understand anything. Tom was always bad at reading and always hated it, swearing whatever he had to do in life wouldn’t revolve around reading and writing. The irony, tom loved to act, he loved the be on stage and perform and become different character every day.

One day, Tom was in the library struggling to understand just about everything when he built up the confidence to talk to you. He walked over and asked for some help which you gladly gave him and the two of you studied until you got kicked out of the library.

It became little moments with tom like this that were special. Meeting tom in the library with coffee, tom jogging up to your dorm with pizza and books to study, borrowing his clothes when you got cold or him staying in your dorm for the night because his was simply ‘too far’.

The boys called him whipped, absolutely whipped. In fact, they were confused as to why it was You. Not some girl with half a shirt and smeared makeup ready to fuck, not some girl who’s jumping at every single party idea, not a girl who’s attached to tom as if he’s her life support. Just something simple this time was perfect.

Now it was a cold windy afternoon. You stayed the night at Toms place by accident since you studied until 2am. You curled up on Toms hard bed with soft blankets and tom laid opposite side and cuddled up with his own blanket. His lips would leave soft snores and you smile every time he’d try to cuddle into you and he’d wake up apologizing for holding you.

“I’m missing something I swear.” You opened your backpack and looked around his room. Thigh high boots, soft plaid mini skirt, simple cream sweater and you had a scarf but now it was gone.

“Are you sure?” He looks around and you sigh knowing if you keep looking you’ll be late.

“Yeah, it’s fine. It was just my scarf. I’ll see you later.” You pick up your bag and he stops you real quick.

“No, no, just wear mine. Here.” He wraps the thick black scarf around your neck. No, it doesn’t match your outfit but it’s adorable that he’s trying.

“Thanks. This is cute.” You feel the fuzzy and slightly scratchy material.

“My mum made it.” He says shyly and you smile at how innocent he is. “I’ll pick you up from class? So we can work on—“

“Your lines for your play, of course.” You smile before he grabs your hand just to touch it before he goes. “I’ll see you soon, Holland.” You smile trying not to be awkward. The boy of the schools dream was melting in the palm of your hand.

That was this morning. Now tom leaned against a cold light pole with a bagel, yogurt and an apple cider tea. Tom remembered on the first of September you smiled about the cider tea from the small cafe you would study at. Always have promising to take tom there and make him try it, so he hunted it down and picked up your favorites.

“Hey you!” You adjust your bag as you wrap your arms around him. You caught him slightly off guard and he somewhat jumped.

“Hey, How was it?” He asked as the two of you started walking.

“It was okay, I have an exam next week and thank god she told us today because I would’ve never been prepared.” You sigh and then look down at his hand. “What’s that?”

“These are for you.” He hands you the tea and the bagel. Your heart melts as he went out of his way to get you breakfast since you didn’t have time this morning.

“How’d you remember I like apple cider tea?” You asked and he shrugged as if it was nothing when in reality he listened to every single thing you tell him and wishes to give you every single thing you want.

“I think you mentioned it a while back.” He sniffles with how cold it is. You take a sip, the warm drink filling your body with bliss and tom watches as it does. How your shoulders shrug up and how your eyes shut to take in the moment.

“So, my dorm or yours?” You asked and he snaps out of his trance. He almost forgot the whole reason why he came to pick you up was because of his lines for the play he’s doing. “I think my roommate is out so if you want—“ you start and he shakes his head.

“My place is closer. All the boys have class or are just out.” He nods and you put the bagel in your bag as you walk with him. Your hand gently grazes his as you want to hold it but remind yourself that it’s not time yet, tom isn’t wanting anything serious and you have to remind yourself that.

There was something different about tom today. Something completely different. This morning when you woke up, in his bed, book stiff under your arm, his back to you as he let out soft snores, that was different. Maybe it was when he gave you his scarf, he had a few, some designer even because you knew he had money. No, he didn’t give you a Ralph Lauren scarf or any other pricey one to borrow. He gave you one that his mum made for him and it was a little small so he’s probably had the thing for years. Or maybe now, when he remembered your favorite autumn drink and went out of his way to go get it.

You two were changing. Almost like how the leaves changed on the trees. You were nervous, you weren’t supposed to end up with guys like him. Guys like him liked girls who were ready for everything. Ready for a party and a good time. Not girls who studied until they passed out on their books and certainly not girls who spent most of her days reading and writing for fun.

“Tom?” You stop and he turns around to stop too. No one was around, just you and him and the leaves falling from the oak trees.

“What is it?” He asks walking closer. He has a furrowed brow look because of your sudden stop.

“Why me?” You think aloud and he tilts his head with a few curls falling to the side.

“W-What are you talking about?” He comes closer and you look down at your shoes.

“I mean, the scarf, the tea, the bagel, the sleepovers, the study dates, you inviting me to your plays. I mean, maybe I’m reading this all wrong but I think you’ve got the wrong girl.” You step back and he places his hand on your arm.

“What do you mean ‘I’ve got the wrong girl’?” He asks and you look up.

“I’m not popular. I’m not a party animal, I’m not a sorority chick, I’m not staying up til 5am every Friday night I just...I don’t understand.” You felt stupid for saying anything, maybe you shouldn’t have said anything and now you might’ve just ruined one of your only friendships at this school.

“I don’t understand I thought you liked us hanging out? Do you think I expect that from you?” He steps forward and you feel your heart racing.

You read it wrong, maybe he was never flirting and this was just his personality, maybe he was just being nice and you fell for him and took every little nice thing he did as a sign.

“I do, I do, I love haning out with you I just...I feel like we’re something more and maybe I’m just reading into everything too much.” You shake your head and he looks away and tries to think of the right way to word everything.

“Maybe you’re not.” He taps his foot anxiously. He looks down at the both of your shoes to avoid eye contact.

“What?” You asked and he rocked back and forth on his heels.

“I mean...do you think I’m running around getting stuff for other people?” He jokes a little and you think about it. All the things he was doing for you he wasn’t doing for other people. Or was he?

“I mean—“ you start and he shakes his head.

“I’m not, I promise.” He looks up with a lopsided smile and reaches to touch the scarf he gave you this morning. “I think you should keep this.” He touches the black itchy material.

“Didn’t you say your mum—“ you start and he shakes his head.

“She makes one every single year, I have at least ten.” He speaks and you smile at how sweet that is. “What if we tried us out?” He asked and you gave him a head tilt.

“What do you mean?” You ask and he bites his lower lip.

“I mean like took our friendship to the next level and we ya know...started dating.” He was nervous, you made the party hard fratboy nervous.

“Are you doing this to get the math homework answers?” You tease and he rolls his eyes.

“I’m serious. If you’re not ready I under—“ He starts and you cut him off with a kiss on the cheek. You move your coffee into the hand with the bag and hold onto his.

“Don’t break my heart, Holland.” You tell him and he holds your hand tighter. He was going to try his best to not hurt you, or hurt himself but he knew that you were going to be the best thing that’s happened to him while he’s been at this college.

“I promise I won’t.”

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#fratboy!tom #college!tom #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #imagine tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #tom holland x you #tom holland fic #tom holland fan fic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland au #tom holland x y/n

[divineluce]

Under the Needle’s Point || Morgan & Luce

Location: Ink Inc.

Timing: August 13th

Tagging: @mor-beck-more-problems & @divineluce

Notes: As a result of a scheduling mix up, Morgan winds up getting a tattoo done by Luce instead of Ulfric. The two have a nice little chat.

Warnings: Needles tw

Morgan couldn’t stop thinking about the dead supernaturals she’d brought out of that witch’s lab. Not even bodies, just pieces jarred and labeled according to parts, their usefulness. She’d sourced some weird shit from shops back when she was alive, but something about these just waiting, knowing what it was for, seeing the way Jo had looked her over as if she was prime stuffing material for her magic turducken. There were no names, no conveniently left behind ledger to tell Morgan the story of who these remains had been. They were just pieces, next to nothing. And what was left of her? Of the person she’d been? No one at work even knew she’d died, except for Anita. There was no family to notify. If she hadn’t dropped off the radar for two weeks, no one would have realized. And sometimes it seemed like people thought the person she’d been before was still in her, whole and bright and unchanged. How could she tell them any different. She didn’t know how to explain what “I” and “Me” signified now. She didn’t have any alternate words to pick from without drawing too much attention to her deadness, which was usually not the best idea. But even if some of her pieces had come back, Morgan felt different and rearranged all over, and she could only talk Bea’s ear off about it so long.

Walking into Ink Inc, Morgan tried to let the stupid, angsty knots inside her unwravel themselves. Ulfric usually had something good to say, and her idea of a solution would at least provide a few hours’ distraction. “Hey, Ulf?” She called. The shop was quiet, though she wasn’t sure how busy it usually was. “I’m early, but maybe we can get started--Oh.” When she saw Luce Vural approach the front desk, Morgan found her stomach knots switched out for a whole new platter of them. “You’re...not...Ulf.”

Flipping through the ancient book that lay on her workstation, Luce frowned as she looked at a few strange sigils drawn in the margins. What did these have to do with ghosts? She wasn’t familiar with anything surrounding ghosts and it was times like this when she wished she knew a decent exorcist. But, even in a town as magical as White Crest, there weren’t many of those running around. Luce mimicked the circular wards drawn in the book with the tip of her finger, tracing the shapes into the wood of the table. They didn’t feel like anything she’d ever drawn before, but she’d never been good at wards to begin with. What exactly did these things mean?

The sound of the bell ringing over the front door caught her attention and Luce shut the book and tucked it away into her backpack. She didn’t need people asking her what she was reading. As she emerged from her room, Luce launched into the typical speil, “Hey there, what can I do--” Her words trailed off for a moment when she saw Morgan standing in the middle of the shop. Leaning against the receptionist desk, Luce’s lips pressed together in a thin line. Shit. The last time she’d seen Morgan was… fuck, when they’d rescued Remmy? Christ. “What gave it away? The height? The distinct lack of a red hair and a beard?” She asked, the sarcasm coming out on reflex.

“Wow, you really are this friendly all the time, even to people you haven’t lashed out at.” Morgan deadpanned. The irony of lashing out was not lost on her, but it was too late to take the words back now. And as far as Morgan knew, Luce hadn’t exactly tried to smooth things over with Remmy since stomping on their heart. “A-ny-way...I have an appointment. A rib piece. Ulf and I talked it over already. I think there’s already a stencil and stuff, but I don’t know if you need anything fancy for working with um, zombie skin. Are you gonna be able to help a dead girl out?”

“What can I say, I’m a ray of goddamn sunshine.” Luce said, tone matching Morgan’s. If this was how this was gonna go down, she could play the game. She wasn’t sure why the woman was coming out swinging like this, but she could hazard a guess. Morgan was someone who cared about Remmy and… it wouldn’t surprise her if Remmy had told her about what went down at the carnival. “An appointment. Huh.” Blinking, Luce looked over at the computer and scrolled through the schedule. Well shit. Ulf had definitely booked her, but it looked like their evening receptionist has fucked up and double booked him. “Looks like there was some kind of scheduling fuck up, but… Yeah. I can do that.” She said. If the stencil was already drawn up and Morgan had already put down her deposit, she wasn’t going to argue. Work was work. “C’mon back. And, no, no fancy tools needed.” Luce thought back to the day Remmy had entered the shop, when they’d met the first time. Oh, for fucks sake. “So, what are we doing today?”

“Of course there is…” Morgan sighed. Not for the first time, Morgan wondered if Constance had made some backdoor bargain with the universe to keep the suffering going as long as there was some miserable creature named Morgan Beck on the planet. She had come here for herself, for the promise of having a sustained goddamn feeling that didn’t strain Deirdre’s muscles, for the talk about the universe and their personal stresses they always shared, and...not Luce and her crabby emotional bullshit. But this was what Morgan had. She’d sectioned off this day carefully and timmed the distance from the start of fall semester so she could have it done, follow ups and all, before classes. No one at work would see, but she liked the idea of having something complete and beautiful that was a part of her. Maybe she just wished marking herself with sigils still did any good. 

Morgan followed Luce to the back, explaining, “A rib piece, with color. It’s sort of sizable. I was talking about breaking the whole thing up into sessions, maybe.” She cleared her throat. “Does that, uh, sound good…?”

“Does Ulf know that you’re… a zombie?” Luce asked as she scrolled through the shared files on her laptop. Thank christ they had a good internal filing system for shit like this. She was able to locate the design that Ulf had already drawn up without too much difficulty. It wasn’t her personal cup of tea, but their styles weren’t that far off and she could do color nearly as well as she did black and white. “I ask because I’ve-- I did Remmy’s tattoo a while back.” She said, unable to hide the stutter-step in her voice, the slight hitch in her words. “They healed almost instantly. It’s how I knew they weren’t exactly human. So, you might not actually need a couple of sessions. Could save you money.” She said with an offhand gesture before pushing away from her desk. “This look like the one?” She asked, gesturing for Morgan to look over at the stencil that was on her computer screen. 

“Yes,” Morgan said. “He said he’d never done one on, you know, someone like me before. But that’s good to know. Maybe this isn’t gonna be the worst idea after all.” She kept her eyes on Luce, watching as she choked on Remmy’s name and stiffened with awkwardness. “If you’d rather we get this done in one go and it won’t mess with your schedule that sounds fine.” She stepped closer to Luce awkwardly and took a look at the design she’d worked out with Ulf.

There was a deer skull, positioned at an angle so you could see the two wide holes where its eyes once were without feeling them looking straight at you. Bluebonnets and Evening Primrose and rich red Winecups, flowers she hadn’t seen since she left Texas, sprouted from one of the sockets. The blues, pinks, and reds on their petals were dappled with color as if from the tip of a watercolor brush. More flowers, goldenrod, blackberry, and meadow-rue, hung from the antlers, garlanded loosely in a way their real stems would never allow. A fine chain studded with small pentagram stars and crystals settled between the horns like bunting and dangled down beneath the skull by several inches. It was elaborate, but Morgan felt better about herself looking at it already. “Yeah, that’s the one. If you can do it, I guess we better get started.” She pulled off her shirt, bunched it around her chest, and waited for Luce to take on the challenge and show her the way.

“It’s your call. We can do whatever works for you.” Luce said, her voice measured and careful to avoid the halting tone it had taken on with the mention of Remmy. “Why don’t I get the outline of it done first and then we can see how it goes? It’ll be a long one session, but I don’t have anything up on the schedule. I was just hanging around in case we got a walk in. And… low and behold. A walk in.” Besides, she needed the money. Hospital bills were still rolling in from her stay after Bea’s resurrection and at the rate that Nell was going, she’d probably need to help her younger sister out too. 

Staring at the design, Luce found herself marveling at Ulf’s work. He was, after all, the one who had inspired her to take up their chosen profession. His linework was impressive, the color pallet beautiful, the composition well balanced and perfectly in line with the mystical elements of the tattoo itself. She’d studied his work long enough to be able to emulate it-- the shading might not be quite how he wanted it, some of the lines might go thin in places where he preferred something a bit more bold. But, they could duke it out over beers at Dell’s if it came to it. “Alright, let’s get rolling.” She laid out her tools, fixing a new needle in her machine, laying out her pallet of inks on the rolling tray she kept by her chair as the stencil printed. The placement came easily enough and Luce snapped on a pair of gloves before settling back on her stool. “Just let me know if it feels like it’s too much and we can take a break.” She said before turning the machine on and putting the needle to Morgan’s cool skin.

“Well that’s nice and completely non-committal,” Morgan said. Probably because Luce was giving her an out. And, if she really wanted, she could take it. She could throw her money and her tip at Ulfric instead. She could forego, what, at least eight hours alone in a tattoo parlor with Luce Vural? It made a certain kind of sense and Luce would know how Morgan felt about the way she handled her bullshit with Remmy to boot. But Morgan had come here with the intention of getting her tattoo and she was not going to let her anger and bewilderment at Luce get in the way of that. They could handle a transactional meeting. “But if you’re really free all day, let’s get started.” She settled down on the seat, glancing over her shoulder at Luce to see how she was muscling up to the prospect.

“Oh, please,” she snorted, dryly. “I had a pole go in one end and out the other. I don’t think anything is going to be too--oh!” Her sentence died in a squeak as the needle made contact. There was...something alright. Like a deep scratch on her insides, one that reverberated throughout her whole body. She couldn’t remember any sensation this immediately potent except for the punches Mina threw in their practice sessions.  Morgan dug her hands into her shirt and squeezed tight. “Jeez. That’s one hell of a rush.”

A part of Luce had almost hoped that Morgan would decline the offer for a full length session. It was a huge tattoo and the lengthy sessions always left her drained, her back sore from leaning over someone, her hands cramped and tired. But, the other woman seemed set on getting this done, and who was she to argue with it. “Yeah. Like I said, we can play it by ear.” She said, her tone calm and neutral.

As Morgan reacted to the sting of the needle, Luce raised an eyebrow as she continued to work. “You good?” She asked. When she’d done this on Remmy, they’d hardly reacted at all. It’d been a big part in how she’d known they weren’t human. It wasn’t that they were being macho about it, like most of Luce’s clients, they just hadn’t seemed to feel any of it. There hadn’t been any involuntary twitches to the muscle when she’d been working, nothing. “I’m guessing it must be weird, going from not feeling hardly anything to being able to feel this?” She asked, the echoes of a memory that belonged to Morgan returning in a swift wave. “Like I said, if it’s too much, we can break this up into different sessions.”

Morgan had to keep her laugh somewhere tight in her chest. “Oh, it’s definitely weird, like the world’s tiniest jackhammer is dancing on my bones. But the other thing is I have to do a whole round of mental gymnastics to trick myself into feeling things or almost feeling things, or I just get in a really great tension workout trying to make myself press into things hard enough to feel like I’m really here. But I guess you kinda know how that is, huh?” She turned over her shoulder, eyeing Luce’s reaction. For someone who pretended to have the emotional capacity of a toothpick, she’d taken Morgan’s memories mostly in stride with the brain biter and her own valuable memories had been full of feeling too. “You’re good, Luce. Although, we should probably pass the time with more than just complete awkward silence, right?”

“The tiniest jackhammer? Never heard that one before, but sure.” Luce commented blithely as she kept her hand nice and steady, following the smooth curves of the stencil, tracing over the skull design. She was already planning out how she’d do the shading of the eye sockets, the way the flowers lay against bone, but Morgan’s words took her out of it for a moment. Blinking, her hand faltered before she focused back on her work, the needle continuing to move. “Yeah. I guess I do.” She muttered, reminded of the fact that their memory swap had been just that. A swap. Morgan had seen her memories, had experienced them. The moment from her childhood when her sisters had sat on the living room floor, braiding each other’s hair. One of the many midnight margs celebrations, usually done after coven meetings or some other ritual. Morgan had seen good memories, happy memories. Memories Luce didn’t share with anyone. “Depends on how you want to fill it.” She said as she dipped the tip of the needle back into the small container of ink and resumed her work, “Are you going to try and talk to me about Remmy? I know you two are close.”

“You brought them up, not me,” Morgan said. “But yeah. We’re pretty darn close. I don’t know how much you’ve been keeping up with them or how much you actually care, but they really have been through the wringer lately. And that’s on top of all the other stuff they had to deal with before, including me.” She sighed as Luce’s needle brushed against her bone again. Who knew that something so sharp could feel so much like relief. Was this why people got hooked on getting them? “What I’m trying to say is, handle with care. Remmy can take a lot of hits, but that doesn’t mean they should have to. And maybe figure your shit out before they get their hopes up again.” She drew in a shallow breath and tried to extend her attention around her body, feel the novel tingles of air and the buzzing prick of the needle as it traveled away from her bone again and grew faint. It was all she could do not to pout. Everything about existing was work, was an act of management in concentration and willpower. At least when her bones were catching onto a feeling for her she could let go. But that would’ve been easy, and universe forbid Morgan have anything like that for long.

Luce let out a sigh as she continued to draw, machine buzzing in her grasp. Well, shit. She had been the one to bring them up. Fuck. But, it was better to rip the bandaid off now, right? Better now than to sit in awkward silence or let it hang over their heads while she worked. “Yeah. I know they have.” She said off handedly. She knew that Remmy had been through it. How could she not know? She’d held them that night when they’d re-lived their experiences at the Ring, she’d seen the collar around their neck drop them to the ground, she’d seen just how fucked up they’d been after the rescue mission. And now, the latest pile of bullshit-- she’d seen Nadia drag them out of Pat’s Place, seen them brought to their knees by poison. She knew. “Including you.” Luce echoed, remembering what those words meant. Remmy had been the one to turn Morgan, to save her. “You think I don’t know that they shouldn’t have to deal with all the bullshit life’s thrown at them? I’m real aware of that fact.” She said, though her words lacked bite. “They don’t deserve any of the fucking stuff that happens to them.”

It was hard for Morgan to get a read on Luce while she was halfway down her torso, inking out the curves of deer horns. She sounded tense, bitter, but those might’ve been part of Luce’s factory settings for all Morgan knew. “Well, I couldn’t tell from here,” Morgan said, more accusatory than she’d meant to sound. She frowned, waited a moment, and tried again. “I’m glad we can agree on Remmy needing a break. I’d guess we could also agree on Remmy deserving some basic kindness. We can’t control their circumstances much, but we can be good to them, right?” She didn’t think this was a controversial point and so didn’t wait to press on to her real question. “So I guess I’m just..really curious about why you handled your side the way you did. I know you tend to come out swinging, which I don’t follow either a lot of the time, but this...wasn’t that.”

Lips pressing together into a thin line at Morgan’s tone, Luce said nothing and instead focused on her work. She wasn’t going to fuck up Morgan’s tattoo just because the other woman was being a bitch about things to her. Even if she really wanted to. All it would take is a few little lines-- nope. She valued her work too much to fuck up someone’s tattoo on purpose. Drawing the machine back, she wiped the stray flecks of ink off with a paper towel, not bothering to ease up on the pressure. Morgan wouldn’t be able to feel it the same way people did. She dipped the needle into more ink and set back to work. “What do you mean, how I handled things?” She asked flatly, her tone emotionless. “They wanted more, which wasn’t part of the deal. From day one, I made my intentions very clear.” Luce said as she started on the curves of the deer’s eye sockets, staring blankly back at her. Almost accusingly. Oh, fuck off. 

Morgan waited for Luce’s words to settle before speaking again, just in case she started snapping all over again. This was, technically, not her business. But she was upset with Luce for how her words had affected Remmy and how it had surprised her as well. She didn’t even know what, specifically, had happened. But even the vague strokes were so unlike the person she’d thought Luce was. “You were cruel,” she said at last. “What you want or don’t want to intentionally invite into your life is your business, and if you want to put boundaries around how much you really care about Remmy, go for it, whatever, I guess. But you can still be kind when you’re telling someone ‘no’ or ‘not right now.’ You can try to make the hurt as small and possible. I didn’t think you were the kind of person to do that, especially to someone kind of close to you. Which, okay, we don’t even know each other that well, really, so maybe it was my mistake. But it was still...really weird to hear about, after all you did for them.”

“What can I say, I’m a bitch.” Luce said callously. A nosy bitch, getting into other people’s business, doing things that pissed people off just because she could. And she was more than happy to live with that reputation. It was fine, it was normal. As Morgan continued to talk, Luce began to start on the outlines of the flowers, their delicate petals requiring a lighter hand. She rolled her eyes at that-- a lighter hand. People would like it if she handled things that way, wouldn’t they? If she was kinder, if she wasn’t as rude, as rough, as angry. “They weren’t close to me.” She insisted. “We just fucked.” Luce said, though the words didn’t hold quite as much weight as they once had. They hadn’t just fucked. They’d held her that night when she’d broken and told them about Bea, she’d done the same for them after they’d been torn to pieces. She’d broken them free from the Ring, destroyed the building, taken lives… for Nell, yes. But, for Remmy too. Looking at her gloved hands, Luce’s jaw clenched. “I did shit because I wanted to. Not because of them.”

“Okay, I know you didn’t just fuck,” Morgan said, rolling her eyes. “I know you made yourself emotionally present for them in some really rough, vulnerable moments. They told me how safe you made them feel, and how it seemed like you were opening up. And you were ready to kill everyone at the ring before you knew they had Nell too.” She gasped as the needle circled over her rib bones again, making her insides almost come alive. “And maybe we’re not close, but I know enough about you to know you’re not just a bitch. What I don’t get is why it’s so important to you that other people see it that way. No one is vulnerable about everything all the time, and for some people...yeah, kindness and softness has to be earned. But...you still haven’t answered my question. Did their question make you feel...betrayed or upset somehow? Were you scared?”

Luce sucked in a breath at Morgan’s words. Of course, Remmy told her about shit. Of course they did. “Maybe I got a taste for it. Who knows.” She said in an offhand tone, brushing past her quick leap to destruction. She continued to do her work, keeping her hand nice and steady as Morgan continued to talk at her. So they’d swapped memories once, that didn’t make Morgan an expert on her, or her feelings. She didn’t fucking do feelings, not like that. But, at the last question, her eyes widened in surprise. If she didn’t have literally years of experience, of people saying stupid shit that caught her off guard, she might have fucked up her lines. Instead, her hand remained steady. Even so, there was no way to hide how her breath hitched slightly. “You don’t need to know why I did what I did. You’re not Remmy’s keeper and you’re sure as hell not mine.” Still the word echoed in her mind. Scared. She wasn’t scared. She wasn’t. Wasn’t she?

Morgan caught the way Luce doubled down on her tension. So, getting warmer, maybe creeping up on a nerve. It probably shouldn’t have felt so surprising; fear made fools of everyone. Hadn’t she learned that one a dozen or so times over? “You’re too interesting to be selling yourself short like that. But…” She gasped again. Why couldn’t she just shut up and enjoy this again? Luce was right, she wasn’t Remmy’s keeper, and even if she was still mostly playing by their request to ‘not yell at’ Luce, she was...definitely skirting around things. But it itched at her worse than this needle, knowing Remmy had been hurt out of, what, recklessness? And Luce was cutting herself off from a relationship she had seemed to care about right until it was brought to the surface and made real. “You’re right,” she said at last. “We don’t have to get into this. We can go though the next eight hours talking about something else. Like...this is the first feeling-almost-feeling I’ve had that didn’t give someone at least an arm workout...well, actually, I guess you will have one by the time we’re done, but, it’s the concept for the thing. Or uh…” Stars, they really didn't have that much in common, did they? “You know, if this thing that doesn’t matter to you at all is also for some reason too much to talk about, maybe you should pick.”

“Damn right we don’t.” Luce said firmly. She’d dealt with longer sessions with worse people before. Then again, they weren’t usually people she had to deal with outside of the shop. But, someone who knew her the way Morgan did? Someone who knew her family? It made things trickier. She knew she could keep her cool about this, that she should just keep her mouth shut and deal with it. So Morgan wanted to bitch at her about how she’d hurt Remmy. So fucking what. She could handle it. Then why did she feel anger creeping in the pit of her stomach? Pulling the machine back from Morgan’s skin, Luce tossed the machine down onto the tray next to her with a loud clatter. “You don’t know a goddamn thing about me, Morgan, which is exactly how I like to keep things. You don’t get to tell me what I should do, that I need to pick and choose. I already made my decision, I already chose. And you don’t need to know why I did.” She said, staring at the woman with fire in her eyes. 

Morgan groaned deep in her throat. Now she wasn’t even feeling anything. But now without having the precision of the device to worry about, she could turn and look at Luce fully. She was angry alright, but nothing she was saying was making sense. “I am very certain I already conceded that first point, she said. And as for the rest, I didn’t say literally any of those things. Which makes me wonder who exactly is? Who is telling you what you need to do or that you have to pick and choose between...whatever it is you think your binary options are? Or that you can’t change your mind about your decision later? Because I just wanted to know why you went out of your way to be mean to someone we both care about, and then I offered you an out. So what are you really upset about here, Luce?”

Startled, Luce stared at Morgan for a moment. She had said those things, hadn’t she? Or had Luce been reading too deeply into things, looking into things that didn’t exist? Either way, her outburst had dug herself an even deeper hole than she’d started in. Fuck’s sake. Luce rolled her eyes, though the action was more for show than anything. It was a way to get people to leave her alone. But, she couldn’t unhear the other woman’s words. What was she upset about? Really? “What am I upset about? The fact that Remmy went off and fucked everything up. Things were fine, just the way they were. It was all just for fun. And then they wanted more. I fucking told them that I’m not interested in more, because I’m not go-- I don’t do more.” She said before rolling back from the chair, her hands up in the air. “Look. Ulf’s appointment ends in ten. Get him to finish your tattoo. I’m done.” Luce said with a shake of her head.

“Luce…” Morgan said softly. “Hey, you...are a good person, Luce. You’re good. I mean, I kind of hate that word, it’s so arbitrary, but as far as I’m concerned, you are. And I’m not the only one, okay? Whatever it is you need out of your relationships, whatever you choose, as long as it’s really what you want and need, that doesn’t change the fact that you’re good. And if your needs change, you’re still good. You’re good and you deserve to be happy, whether that includes ‘more’ or not, or Remmy or not. You deserve to be more than just okay. You know that, right?” She cleared her throat, looking down at her wrinkled shirt and the only mostly done outline of her tattoo. “But uh, if you need a break or you’d just rather not anymore, that’s...fine.”

You deserve to be more than just okay. Luce had said similar things to Remmy before and now they were being turned onto her. She wondered if they felt just as false to them as they did to her. She didn’t deserve someone like Remmy, didn’t need someone like them in her life. Because what would happen if she did let them in? If she said sure, let’s try, let’s be something? She’d open up to them and that scared her. But, Luce was startled to realize, what scared her more than the vulnerability of it all was the wanting. She wanted to open up to them. To be honest with them. But, what would happen then? Nothing good. Staring at the outline on Morgan’s side, she sighed. “I’ll finish it. But,” She grabbed the remote to the stereo system from her desk, loud music filling the room. “No more talking.”

#p: morgan beck #p: utnp #wickedswriting #needles cw

[non-stop-imagines]

Three Floors Up (College!AU Fic) Part 5

Here’s Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Pairing: Peter Parker x Black!Reader; Bisexual!MJ x Black Fem!OC (Armani) (Armani face claim @cecewiththefro on ig)

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Peter gets a bit sad, but really this is a bunch of cute

UNIVESAL TAGS LIST: @beautifulwisdom2001 @iamzion-therealhabesha @jetaimeamore @thottio @shakzer00 @mixedfandxms

THREE FLOORS UP TAG LIST: @lucifersnipnips @uhh-yess-its-a-fucking-bove-me

A/N: YAY ANOTHER PART!! So this is def not edited because I accidentally pressed post instead of edit, but yeaahhh! I just started school again today and felt inspired! Hope you guys enjoy! Love y'all!❤️💛❤️💛

Remember requests are open! It can be a specific prompt or from the Drabble Request list linked in the bio! Just ask to be on a tags list (or all tags lists)!

Masterlist

_______

"I like Y/N. She's nice." Ned grabs a piece of pizza from the box sitting on the coffee table then sits back on the couch and flips through channels, stopping on Food Network for a moment.

"Yeah, she is pretty great. Hey can you hand me my… Material Science notebook?" Peter asks from the floor, scrolling to something on his laptop that sat on his thighs.

"Yellow one?" Ned leans down to Peter's backpack reaching for a tattered yellow Medd spiral notebook.

"Green." Ned adjusts his target, now reaching for the green notebook in a similar condition, but with doodles of webs on the cover.

"Here you go." Ned pulls out the notebook and swiftly hands it to Peter, not breaking his focus from Food Network, which he decided to watch. "What midterms do you have tomorrow?"

"Just this, but Wednesday I have Physics and Computer Aided Design to worry about." He runs his hand through his already disheveled hair and switches his focus from his laptop to his phone, hoping it was you who texted him when he felt his phone vibrate. Instead it was name he, for the first time in a while, did not want to see.

Mr. Stark 👨🏻‍🏭

Call me.

Peter's heart starts to race as he stands from his spot. "Uh, I'll be right back. I need to make a call."

"Stark?" Ned let's his eyes follow his friend as he heads back to their bedroom. All Peter can do is nod before he turns into the room, closing the door behind him. Even though Ned knows about Peter's Spiderman occupation, they both agreed that it would be best for Ned not to know about his missions unless absolutely necessary. He pressed the contact and waits as the phone rings.

"Hey kid, you doing anything right now?" Tony cuts straight to the point. Peter looks towards his bedroom door, thoughts of his upcoming finals flooding his mind. The last thing he expected were the words that end up falling from his lips, words he'll end up regretting.

"Uh, I- no. I'm not doing anything right now." He rubs his neck and plops onto the bottom bunk in the room. "W-what do you need?"

"I need you to gather some intel on a group S.H.I.E.L.D told me to keep an eye on. You up for it?" Peter frustratedly runs his hand over his face, rubbing his eyes in the process.

"Uh, yeah. I can come." Peter stands up, looking over at the nanotech web shooter on the desk. He sighs, already feeling tomorrow's tire.

"You sure about this Pete? You sound like you need sleep." Tony's quizzical tone makes Peter second guess his decision and walk over to the door of the bedroom, peering out at his work and his friend on the couch.

"I'm sure. I'll-uh-see you later, Mr. Stark." Peter hangs up the phone and walks over to the bathroom to splash cold water on his face. He then makes his way back over to the bedroom to his shooter, appearing moments later in the living room.

"Got called into work, huh?" Ned infers, picking up the half full pizza box and making his way over to the kitchen to put it in the fridge.

"Y-yeah." Peter answers, quickly pulling on his jacket and using his web shooter to grab a backpack that sat in the corner of the living room.

"Don't you have more studying to do?" Ned gathers the stray napkins that were scattered around the coffee table.

"I mean yeah, but those exams are later in the week." Peter pats his pockets then frantically begins to search for his phone.

"I'm pretty sure Mr. Stark would let you sit this one out so you can study." Ned walks over to the table next to the front door and picks up Peter's phone from where he placed it moments before.

"Exactly the reason I didn't tell him." He takes his phone from Ned and turns to open the door, but turns back to Ned who was less the happy about the situation. "Listen, man. It'll be fine." They complete a quick but lack luster version of their handshake, then bid their last farewell before Peter was off.

_____

"Shit, shit, fuck." Peter frantically whisper to himself as he rushed inside the building where his Material Science lecture was, finding the room and quickly sitting toward the back, just after the professor began to review some material. He quietly drops his backpack on the ground and pulls out his phone from his back pocket to text you.

Peter:

Made it to class. If you see skid marks on the ground it was probably me.😂

A minute later he felt his phone vibrate as his professor began to go over testing procedures. He pulls his phone from his pocket and looks at the multiple texts from you.

Y/N👸🏿💞🤓:

Peter Parker! (Just realized I don't know your middle name 😬)

Y/N👸🏿💞🤓:

Don't you have an exam today!? What time did you go to bed?

Y/N👸🏿💞🤓:

Have you eaten?

Y/N👸🏿💞🤓:

Nevermind. I'll meet you with some donuts and a frap after your exam 😁

Peter grins, shakes his head and quickly types out an answer then puts his phone away.

Peter:

Benjamin. And thank so much ❤️😵

_____

Y/N:

Hey, where you be at? Your frap is melting as we speak.

You look up from your phone and take a sip from your drink, looking around slightly before recieving a text from Peter.

Peter 💋👨👅:

Look behind you 😁

Before you're able too, Peter placed his hands on your shoulders, making you jump slightly and quickly tuck your phone away. "You know you can't do that to me unless you want a black eye that matches the NYU purple of your sweatshirt. Here." You hand him his drink and a donut with chocolate frosting and rainbow sprinkles then grab a regular glazed for yourself.

"You're a saint." He takes a bite of his donut and savors the flavor for a moment then takes a sip of his drink, having the same reaction. You watch him, eyes scanning his disheveled appearence, a small grin growing on your face that is masked by your own drink when he finally looks back to you.

"I know I am." You sat in silence again for a moment before you spoke up again. "How do you feel you did?"

"Fine. Luckily before I...uh, fell asleep, I studied a good amount. I guess I just went a bit too hard with the, uh, studying because I woke up really late." You nod and take a bite of your donut. "What about you? Did you have any exams today? Or do you have any?"

You quickly swallow your donut, lifting your hands to cover your mouth before speaking. "I have my OChem exam in about 2 hours. I was going to just get to the building early and study and relax before my exam. But then you texted me and I thought that maybe you would want to hang out for a bit? Like walk around Washington Square Park for an hour before I go over to the building… I don't know." You look down and take a sip of your drink, avoiding eye contact until the silence from him became unbearable. You look towards Peter to find him looking at you, eyes sparkling in the morning sun and mouth turning up into an admiring grin. You focus on a curl of his that fell in front of his face for a moment, but eventually shift under his gaze, prompting his response.

"I mean, if you're fine with that. I could also help you study, too-before your test of course. My next class isn't until 11 so I have 3 hours to kill." Peter's nervousness flooded back to him as he reaches back to scratch his neck but forgets to set down his donut, close to rubbing chocolate icing in the back of his neck if you haven't have grabbed the donut from him before his hand reached its destination. "I don't know what I would do without you." He chuckles, finally resting his hand on his neck.

"I feel bad for your aunt. The effort she had to put into keeping you alive all these years." You stand up from the bench you were seated at and balance your drink on the box that now contained 4 donuts, and held out your hand for Peter to take. He stands and does so, but after he retrieves the box from you, now balancing his drink on it as he hugs it close with his left arm, then puts out his right arm for you to take. You interlock your arm in his and hold him close, then head in the direction of Washington Square.

_____

"Oh good, you came back." Ned walks up to Peter after seemingly pacing and engulfs him in a hug. "I was sure you would've been mad at me for telling him."

"Wait, telling who what?" Peter asks, still in Ned's grasp. A second later his phone begins to ring.

"I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry! I'm so-" Ned pleas as Peter escapes his hold the fishes out his phone from his pocket.

"Why is Mr. Stark calling me? Facetiming me at that?" Peter's glare towards Ned held a majority fear that was lightly sprinkled with fury, but nonetheless he answers the phone and heads back to his room. "Uh, h-hey Mr. Stark how's-"

"Were you going to tell me you had a midterm or was my only method of finding out your helpful but extremely anxious friend out there?" Even through the screen, Tony's disappointment burned a hole through Peter.

"I-i was going to tell you. Just, later." Peter avoids eye contact and goes to sit on the bottom bunk of the bed.

"Hmmm." Tony nods and rubs his goatee, this gesture being one that Peter hated because something drastic always followed after. "No more missions for the rest of the semester."

"WHAT!? Mr. Stark d-don't you think that's a bit...harsh." Peter's voice lowers to a whisper as he feels Tony's gaze intensify.

"No, I don't, since I seem to be the only one here that's thinking." Tony takes a deep breath and rubs his closed eyes. "I told you before this even started that school comes first. I didn't need you to come last night, I just thought that it would've been good practice for you." He paused a moment, which for Peter felt like an eternity. "I want your assignment schedules from now on, so you won't even have the chance to lie to me about your assignments."

"Yes sir." Tears began to prick Peter's eyes which causes Tony's stern facade to cave.

"Hey kid, come on. Don't look at it as a punishment but rather an opportunity to spend more time with your friends. And that girl you were telling me about." Tony grins as Peter wipes his eyes then turns around, appearing to be talking to someone off screen. "I gotta go Pete, I'll talk to you later. Now go get some studying done. Hey! Go study with that girl." He looks away again. "Alright, alright. Bye Pete." He smiles one last time before hanging up. A smile that instilled a sense of calm in Peter before his heart rate shot up again when he received a text from you.

Y/N👸🏿💞🤓:

How about traveling those three floors for a study sesh? Mj and Nini made cookies and I'm about to put a shit ton of chicken nuggets in the oven. Ask Ned and see if he wants to come too

Peter gets up from the bunk, grinning at your text as he makes his way out to Ned. "Uh...Y/N invited us over to study. You wanna come?" Peter starts to pack his notebooks, textbooks and laptop into his backpack.

"Uh-y-yeah, sure." Ned slowly gets up from the couch where he was worrying in silence moments ago to gather his things. "You're not mad at me?" Peter just shakes his head and purses his lips to form a sad but genuine grin as Ned approaches him. They do their handshake into a bro hug before finally exiting their place.

_____

"So, y'all make out, almost made it to the point where you and MJ would've had to disinfect the couch and now it's like you're just real great pals?" Armani mocks the recent development in yours and Peter's relationship as you pour the nuggets from the sheet pan into a large bowl.

"I don't know. Listen, we already were moving a bit fast, I guess I felt it was better to slow things down." You shrug and bring the bowl into the living room, placing it on the coffee table and swatting Armani's hand when she went to reach for one. "Not everyone can get to the perfection that is you and MJ so quick, ight."

"Girl, you don't see the way he looks at you ALL THE TIME. And the speed at which he answers your texts, or how fast you answer his. Just jump on each other and get it over with." Armani dips a nugget in the bowl of ketchup and pops it in her mouth just as you pop her upside the head. Not a second later there was a knock at the door.

"MJ, come getcho girl." You call to your roommate, who was currently in the bathroom, and make your way to the door. "Welcome to hell, we have nugs and cookies." You pull Ned into a quick, tight hug then let him pass. Peter takes a step towards you takes a moment to scan your face, seeming to sigh in relief at the sight of you.

"Hi." He lowers his line of sight slightly in order to make eye contact. You study his eyes, realizing a slight pink tint to them, as if he was crying.

"Hi." You grin up at him, surprised slightly when he pulls you into a tight hug, one of those hugs where the person hugging you cradles your head against their chest. You breath in the faint scent of what was left of his cologne as you wrap your arms around his waist.

"You ok?" You ask Peter, earning a hum of affirmation as he breaths in the scent of your hair, which was just in a puff since you were going to get it done after midterms week.

"How was your exam?" His words came out as a mumble against your head. He kisses your hair and pulls away, taking a couple steps into the apartment so you can close and lock the door.

"Fine, but you know how OChem is." You hesitate your answer, missing the warmth of Peter's body on yours. You turn around to walk to the couch, but bump into Peter's solid frame, making him chuckle, you joining a second later. Once the low chuckling between the two of you die down, Peter looks into your eyes for a moment then grasps both sides of your face and kisses you hard. In no time at all your tongues were intertwined, putting an immense amount of passion in the short lived kiss. He pulls away and smiles at you pressing his forehead against yours.

"What chapter is that in? I don't remember learning that!" You place your hands on Peter's arms to look around him at your sarcastic roommate who was smirking toward you two with one hand in the sky and the other around Armani.

"I think that's in a later topic." Ned responds, pretending to flip through his textbook.

You smile bright to Peter and shake your head, pecking his lips one more time before taking his hand, pulling him to the couch. "We better get studying before we get more sarcasm."

"I agree." Peter smiled a knee weakening smile and followed you to the couch.

Part 6

#peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker x black!reader #black reader #spiderman imagine #mj x fem!oc #marvel imagine #marvel #college au

[bagels-and-seagulls]

Could you maybe write something about jealous hot jock David? I love all of your aus soo much!

jealous…hot jock david??? what an idea oof

bad boy matteo + hot jock david

They ran in different circles. They knew that from the beginning, that their social spheres overlapped in very limited and strange ways, that Matteo knew one of David’s teammates from his old childhood football team that he quit as soon as his mom let him, and that David knew one of Matteo’s friend’s high school infatuations because she was in the same theater production class as him one semester that was wicked with costume design, but besides a couple of people in passing, it was a miracle that David and Matteo even met with how little they seemed to have in common before they ran into each other, how little their worlds seemed to revolve around the same sun, yet still finding a way to find their way towards each other in the dark. 

Now though, now that they lived out of each other’s back pockets and tucked in between the folders in each other’s backpacks, now they shared friends and acquaintances the way they shared their future. They were a part of each other’s lives so fluidly and solidly that they were like salt and pepper, or the sun and the moon, or the ocean and the sand, not alike, not really, but only ever to exist with the other, part of a complimentary set. 

Still though, they ran in different circles. Sometimes, just sometimes, David remembered it like a punch to the gut. 

“David, man, are you even listening?” Jonas asked with a huff. 

David hums. “What? Yes, of course,” he says like he was offended Jonas would even insinuate he wouldn’t. “Your professor was talking about that study.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Jonas starts and goes back to what he was saying before, like David had proved that he was listening enough when David was no where close to it. He took a sip of his beer, and tried to keep his eyes trained on the spot to the right of Jonas’ eye instead of looking over to where Matto was talking to some guy he had never seen before, but they were laughing like they were old pals, like they had an inside joke that David wouldn’t know about. 

David wasn’t a jealous person. Honest. He was the golden boy, the town wonder, the boy who could do little to no wrong, the type of person who was used to being fawned over, talked about by people with something like nectar stuck in their throats. He was the one people were jealous about. He was the one with the good grades, with the good looks, the good moves on and off the field… the good looking boyfriend. To be quite honest and not the least bit narcissistic, there weren’t very many people in the same league as David, not many people to really get jealous of if he were the jealous type. Which he wasn’t. Because David wasn’t jealous. Not usually. He was used to seeing Matteo lean up against Jonas, and kiss Hanna’s cheek, and dance with Hans, and split a joint with Carlos. He was fine with it. Fine. He didn’t feel anything but the normal amount of affection and second-hand joy he got when he saw that Matteo was feeling happy and open. 

So when something ugly, and bitter, and laced with rot and decay started making its way up David throat, making him feel a little bit cold, and a little bit angry, and a little bit like he wanted to pick a fight, and settled in the hinge of his jaw, he was surprised. To say the least. Pissed off. To say the most. 

He couldn’t pin it down as jealousy at first. Because he wasn’t used to jealousy normally. He thought that maybe someone had something that was a little funny, or a little off, and he was just now catching on, lagging behind the conversation, but no. He was getting it perfectly fine. What was making something a little mean and a little hot bubble up in his stomach was the sight of this boy he had never seen before bumping shoulders with Matteo, his boyfriend, sharing a smile that said there was something there, and lifting up his hand to light a joint that was between Matteo’s lips. 

David wasn’t a jealous person, so when he took a gulp of his drink and walked over to stand in front of Matteo, he was just as shocked to be over there as the pair he was in front of seemed. It almost felt like his legs were moving on their own for a second, and there he was, standing their gaping like a fish out of water, trying to find something to say, anything to make sense of what the hell he thought he was doing right now. 

“David?” Matteo asked with wide eyes and a question between his brows. 

“Hey,” David says, feeling a little bit like he was fizzling out, now that Matteo was looking at him like he was speaking in tongues, but then the boy was knocking shoulders with Matteo and tilting his head towards David like he was asking a question, and that monstrous feeling from before that made him want to come over and- and- Well, he didn’t know. Stake his claim or something. 

The thing was David isn’t usually a jealous person, just like he isn’t used to not being known, especially by the people Matteo runs with. 

“The boys were asking after you,” David says with a tight jaw at the way this guy seemed to be leaning closer and closer to Matteo by the second. 

“I’m sure they can manage a few more minutes,” Matteo said, meeting David’s gaze with something a little angry sinking behind his irises. And that feeling from before, the one that made David want to start a fight, was right there, stinging the back of his neck and demanding that he do something. 

Matteo and David stare at each other for a few more seconds, maybe even a minute or so, but the boy must get tired of the dramatics because he grips at Matteo’s shoulder and says, “Thanks for the hit, man. I gotta go,” and points somewhere behind him before pushing off the wall and peeling away. 

“Wait- Just,” Matteo calls after him, almost going as far as to reach out for his shoulder, and that- that- makes David purse his lips up and take another sip of his beer before he says something as stupid as what he’s thinking. “Fuck,” Matteo mutters and thumps his head against the wall. 

David keeps standing there, feeling a little better now that the boy was gone, but feeling a little bit worse at the same time because now Matteo is turning something mean towards him, and David doesn’t know if he’s ever seen a look like that before, not from Matteo, not to him. “You happy now?” He hisses and pushes past David and makes his way to the door. “Jesus fuck.” 

Matteo stomps out the front, and David follows him, feeling guilty and mad at the same time, feeling like they should exchange some words right now, even if he doesn’t know what kind of words they should be. 

“The fuck was that?” Matteo asks, spinning around once he’s in the nearly empty street, and throws an arm out towards the party they just left, keeping himself a few steps away, though he leans in like he’s thinking about getting in David’s space. 

“You tell me,” David throws back, feeling his heckles raise a little bit at the way Matteo was getting a little loud. “You’re the one that was flirting with him.” 

“Flirting? The fuck?” Matteo repeats like he was shocked to even hear David say something like that, like the idea was outrageous enough, and that makes David hotter, that Matteo wasn’t seeing the same thing he was. “I wasn’t fucking flirting with him. Jesus. I was trying to sell to him. I gotta make a hundred by the end of the week for my fucking rent, and that guy is usually dumb enough to buy.” 

“That makes it okay, then? Hm?” David asks, wanting to get in Matteo’s face, wanting to get louder than what was appropriate for a city street. 

“Makes it okay? I just said I wasn’t flirting with him!” Matteo repeats. 

“That’s interesting because that’s not what it looked like to me, and I’m pretty familiar with how you flirt,” David spits out, holding himself back from saying something a little more biting, trying to keep his anger under a tight enough lid that he doesn’t say something he’s going to regret as it comes out of his mouth. 

“So you’re telling me-” Matteo stops to wipe his face, like what he was thinking was waving around his face and buzzing in his ears, and then looked back up at David with just as much anger as before. “You’re telling me that you were- what? Jealous? And didn’t know how to handle it like a grown up? Jesus Christ, David.” 

“I wasn’t fucking jealous,” David denies immediately. He spits the word out like it was sour on his tongue. “I just don’t like seeing my boyfriend chatting some guy up when I’m in the fucking room.” 

“Oh, fuck off,” Matteo yells. “I wasn’t chatting him up or whatever. Just admit you were jealous!” 

“So what if I was? You’re telling me you wouldn’t do the same?” David challenges, still simmering. 

“No, I wouldn’t. I’ve never fucking pulled that shit on you, have I?” Matteo responds and throws an arm out. 

“What?” David asks after a second of watching Matteo’s breath heave out and cloud in front of them. 

“You think you’re the only one that has gotten jealous before?” Matteo says, still boiling hot, even though David feels like he was just handed a piece of the puzzle he didn’t have before. “Jesus, I don’t pull any of that kind of shit on you,” he reiterates, and now he steps close and into David’s space. He points into David’s sternum. “Could you imagine if I just stormed up when you’re talking to your co-director for the play, and he’s- fucking- touched your arm like a million times already? Or that girl on the girls team that checks you out when you turn away? Or the president of that club you’re in that laughs at everything you fucking say? Or what about-” 

“I get it. I get it. Fuck, I get it, okay?” David interrupts and grips at Matteo’s wrist. 

Matteo tugs his arm away. “Do you?” He asks and seems deflated all of a sudden, like he was drained and exhausted by this. “Do you at all?” 

And David feels it too, tired and wrung out, and this so wasn’t worth an argument over, so wasn’t worth all of this, when it ends with Matteo looking at him hurt and sad, like David wasn’t getting it again. Because David can’t ever seem to get it. Not right at least. Not the first time or the second or the third. 

The thing about complimentary sets is that they can never be one and the same. The ocean will never be able to be rough and course like the sand, and the pepper will never be the same flavor as the salt. The sun will never know what it’s like to reflect light instead of give it off, constantly stuck as the shadow of something else, and the moon will never burn from the inside out, not knowing what it’s like to turn off, not even for a moment. 

“Matteo, I-”

“Everything alright?” Someone asks, and David turns towards the door to where Jonas is standing, looking between the two of them with big eyes. 

“Yeah,” Matteo says and fall a little flat. “I was just going home.” 

“Teo,” David says and steps closer. 

“Maybe you should stay at yours tonight,” Matteo suggests, though there was no suggestion in it, and then looks over to Jonas who just ticks his mouth to the side. Matteo turns to walk away, and Jonas follows him, looking over his shoulder to watch David look on in confusion and bafflement. And David is left standing there alone, feeling a little bit hollow and like he’s got something stuck in the back of his throat, watching Matteo walk away, not even looking back. 

David makes it back to his place and through a jilted explanation to Laura about why he was home at all before he caves and sends a voice message to Matteo. “I’m sorry, Teo. I don’t know why I did that, and you’re right. I was acting like a child. And I- I’m just really sorry. I’m not used to this,” he says. 

Matteo opens it right away but doesn’t say anything back, not for at least an hour. And David stares at the chat the entire time, trying to see if it would say if Matteo was typing or not, and holds his breath when it says he is eventually. 

u can come by in the morning, it reads, and David starts planning how he’s going to grovel the whole night. 

part 2

#this turned out way more angsty than i originally planned #but alas here we are #davenzi #jealousy #bad boy matteo and hot jock david #my writing

[enaasteria]

Lost and Found // Baekhyun

// Prompt Request—“Have you seen my hoodie?” // Requested by—@baekyung​  // Artist AU, Soulmate AU, attempt at fluff but probably more aligned to angst

A/N: It was supposed to be a drabble but it turned into this monster. I’m very sorry.

“You’re staring at him again,” my seat mate, Mari, teases. She pokes me with an unused paintbrush before packing up the rest of her supplies at the end of class. It breaks me out of my reverie and I massage the slight throbbing in my arm, playing off her scrutiny of where my eyes may have wandered.

“We’re supposed to look at him.”

“Yeah, while we’re painting his figure. I’m not sure if that includes when he dresses and undresses.”

“I—I—wa—I wasn’t staring at him undress—was I?” I ask, almost mortified at the thought of being so pathetically obvious in how besotted I am over this semester’s male model, Byun Baekhyun. 

“If laser eyes existed in this world, you would’ve burned two holes into his chest.”

“I wasn’t staring at his chest.”

“Oh? Was it his—

I lunge forward, almost dropping my art supply bin, to stop her from verbally embarrassing me more so than she already has as one by one the students exit the classroom. “I wasn’t.”

“Fine, fine. You weren’t, but who would blame you if you did,” she says with a wave of her hand while she waits for me to finish packing up. “He is, after all, rather aesthetically pleasing.”

“More than aesthetically pleasing.”

“Oh?”

I look at her, realizing I divulged more than what I usually do in terms of my infatuation for Baekhyun. It was harmless intrigue in the beginning. I saw him through the eyes of a painter because he was unbelievably beautiful. His soft cheeks, the strawberry toned hair ruffling over his eyes, the benevolent grin seemingly etched into his face. It was as if there was a light exuding from him—a type of warmth I tried to capture with my paintbrushes every day. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I think you and I both know exactly what you meant.”

The comment makes me grimace because there’s no denying I like him. Down to the very essence, I like him in a way I can’t explain within words, in drawings, or even fathom how I’ve never felt my heartstrings tug for another in a way it does for Baekhyun. 

As much as I wish for a little more from the very man I paint from on a daily basis, I realize how futile these inner desires truly are. Because it’s all I can do. I can only look at him. I can only draw him and the single thought continually spreads a debilitating ache throughout every part of my soul. 

Mari watches as my expression reaches the fine line of acceptance and hurt and places a supportive hand on my shoulder. “He could be, you know. He could be your—”

I stop her before she voices it—the dreaded ‘soulmate’ terminology of which we all live and abide by. In our world, there’s a person we’re meant to be with. They’re our match in every possible way and while I do harbor feelings for Baekhyun in the acutest kind, I realize the chance of him being that person made out to be my other half is zero to none. “He’s not.”

“He could be.”

“The universe has never and would never be so kind.”

“You never know.” She changes her pitch, turning it into a rather singsongy tune as we exit the drawing room.

We make our way down the hallway with our art portfolio cases hanging on our shoulders and from the corner of my eye, I see her bite her bottom lip. She’s toying with whether to voice out the obvious because whenever she tries to mention the word soulmate to me, immediately following will be a discussion about my birthday—my 20th birthday to be exact and one which will happen at the stroke of midnight.

“Are you ready?” she asks.

“Is anyone ever ready to find out who their soulmate is on their 20th birthday?”

There’s a slight shock to her face as she hears me say the word I usually avoid. And it’s because I have a hard time admitting how the word scares me. I’m horrifically afraid what I’ll feel for my soulmate will never amount to the way I feel for Baekhyun. 

I let out a sigh and push away the apprehension, figuring I’ll deal with it when it comes. But as a good friend should, she empathizes with my worries and connects her free arm within mine. “I definitely wasn’t ready.”

“Yet, you won’t tell me how it happens so I can prepare myself.”

She scoffs as her eyes crinkle at the edges, perhaps remembering how she found out who her fated person was all those months ago. “It’s because I don’t know how to explain it. You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you. What about your parents? Did they say anything?”

“Yeah—but it only made me more confused.”

“What did they say?”

“They called it—lost and found.”

For a while, I tried interpreting their meaning. I wondered if it meant physically losing something with my soulmate finding and returning it or if it was just a metaphor beyond my comprehension. In the end, all I was left with was a whole new set of unanswered questions. Though, I don’t get a chance to hear Mari’s take on it as a familiar voice calls out my name. 

The sound instantly stills my heart as I’ve memorized his pitch and tone as much as I’ve memorized the details of his body from head to toe. I’m frozen in footing as my grip on Mari tightens. She doesn’t let go as we both see Baekhyun jog up to where we’re standing. 

“Hey—” he starts off and per his norm, his smile is already tugging at the far corners of his mouth. 

I’m not sure where the courage is coming from but my mouth responds on its own (albeit it’s just a single greeting and to my defense, it is one word more than what I’ve said to him all year). “Hi.”

Mari untangles herself from my grasp. It doesn’t take a genius to know she’s about to abandon me within the matter of seconds so I’ll suffer through this sudden interaction alone. “I have to catch the bus, but I’ll see you next class. Happy birthday and let me know how it goes tonight—okay?”

I mentally plead her to stay but all she gives back are sly winks and unexplainable eyebrow raises. What’s a little more alarming other than her leaving me to fend for myself is the fact she mentioned my birthday for Baekhyun to hear. 

My free hand reaches up to my forehead, scratching an imaginary itch and hope he doesn’t read too heavily into any of it. “Is something wrong?”

“No, no. It’s nothing serious but Professor Moon mentioned you might be able to help me.” He looks hopeful and I do my best not to get lost in his blinding presence. 

It’s hard enough being in the same room with him while painting his male form but it’s a whole other issue trying to concentrate on holding a proper conversation with him. With the former, at least I had a legitimate reason to only look at him. This is worlds different and is by far, a suffering I never thought I’d have to endure. “Yeah, of course. What is it?”

“Please don’t laugh,” he begins and my heart plummets as I see his eyes shine in the most innocent way. “I usually wear a certain hoodie to your painting class.”

“Right—the sapphire blue one with the white logo design running across the chest,” I say it all without thinking until the cold terror washes down my body. I only memorized that hoodie because it’s the outfit he wore the first time I met him and he’s worn it every day since. But voicing that little fact makes me out to be a strange person and the feeling of wanting to run into a ditch and live there for all of time comes in full force. “I—I me—I mean—artist’s eyes, you know. I notice a lot of details.”

He cranes his neck while his gaze roams about my face. It’s a small little action but one I make note of due to this being the closest I’ve ever stood next to him. I pray he doesn’t sense anything off and to my relief, he doesn’t question or dive deeper into my odd remark. 

Instead, his stare goes on for a second too long before something clicks within him and he speaks again. “Yeah, that’s the one. I must’ve left it behind or misplaced it. I asked Professor Moon if she’s seen it around the classroom but she didn’t. She suggested I ask you since you work in the Art Department office and there’s a lost and found box. I was wondering if you’ve seen my hoodie there by any chance?”

“No, I’m sorry. I haven’t,” I say with a shake of my head. 

Baekhyun’s lips press together into a pout and it’s the saddest look I’ve ever witnessed on him. The melancholy expression doesn’t suit him and I go through every possible method to think and come up with a way to help him.

“But we can go check—the office, I mean. We can check the office. I only work three days out of the week so someone might’ve turned it in.”

“I wouldn’t want to bother you if you had plans—

“It’s ok. I don’t mind,” I say because if there was a choice between going home to an empty apartment or having a few more minutes with Baekhyun, I would choose him time and time again. “I didn’t make any plans so—” My voice fades into a whisper at the end as I urge him to follow me to the art office one building over. 

I try to make it a quick walk but it seems Baekhyun has other ideas as his pace is much slower than mine. He digs his lithe fingers into his jean pockets as he takes one foot after another down the outdoor steps. 

When he reaches the sidewalk, he brings up the very words I love to avoid. “So, your birthday is tonight.” He watches as I writhe about in imaginary pain. It causes a low chuckle to escape from his chest while he waits for my answer.

“Unfortunately, it is.”

“Not a fan of birthdays?”

“Not a fan of this birthday,” I correct.

“Ah—that one.”

I take quick glances at him and find it more of a surprise seeing him return my gaze. But since his attractive face is difficult for me to handle in large doses, I turn my main focus towards the pavement below. “Did you have yours already?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Oh. So you know then—” I swallow and find the sudden lump situated at the base of my throat making it hard for me to breathe. “You know who your soulmate is.”

“Mhmm. I know who she is.” 

“Does she know—that you’re her soulmate?” The bitter words feel like salt on my wounds but I’m not even sure why I’m asking. The only plausible result waiting for me at the finish line is more angst and agony. Maybe a part of me wants to know in hopes it’ll make tonight a little bit more bearable—solidifying into stone how I was right in thinking Baekhyun wasn’t my soulmate after all. 

Baekhyun shakes his head, his locks tousling over his almond eyes. “No, not yet. I’m trying my best to keep myself from getting too close to her until she does find out.”

“Why?”

“Not sure. I have this irrational fear she won’t like me so for now, I’m staying away and just hoping for the best.”

“Hope.” I breathe out the one word and find so much familiarity in it because it’s exactly how I feel when I look at Baekhyun. 

I hope even when I realize it’s hopeless to do so. 

Tucking a few strands of loose hair behind my ear, I give him a sad smile before we reach the building. I change the topic since this might be the only time I’ll ever have a conversation with him in our lives and I’d rather it not be so dreary and bleak. 

“I’m sure she’ll like you—especially in that hoodie,” I placate and sincerely wish she loves him for the remarkable person he is inside and out. 

When we finally arrive to the art office, I set my art portfolio case down by the door and ask Baekhyun to wait. I feel the weight of his gaze watching my every movement and it becomes a little nerve-wracking to just walk in front of him. I dig around in the storage closest before finding the tattered cardboard box but when I bring it out, I’m unable to hide my disappointment. It doesn’t go unnoticed as his expression mirrors my own.

“It’s not in there, is it?” he asks.

“No, it isn’t. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m thankful for you trying.” He shrugs his shoulders and the frown once on his face dissipates as quickly as it came. “You know, I actually considered it my good luck charm.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Not to be super cheesy or anything but my life changed the day I was wearing it so it became something I was attached to. I even went to the lengths of writing my name and phone number inside on the label tag just in case I somehow lost it—which, clearly, I ended up doing anyway.”

“I know the feeling. It happened with my sketchbook.”

Baekhyun shifts his weight and bites down on the inner flesh of his mouth as if keeping himself from smiling too hard. I blink to try and understand it but no viable answer comes to mind. He clears his throat and brushes his index over his nose a few times before asking, “Sketchbook?”

“It wasn’t really a good luck charm as it was more of something bringing me joy. I would draw in it every time I felt down.”

“What did you draw in it?”

My hand naturally draws up to my chest, trying to alleviate some of the tension because what I drew in that notebook was endless portraits of him. Every page was lined to the details of only him. His face. His hands. Even the tiny little mole housed on his ear. “Pictures—of someone.” I avoid saying him in fear of coming off more peculiar than I already am and laugh it off. “But it’s gone missing just like your hoodie. I’m sure it’ll turn up though.”

“I do too.” He stands up straight, shuffling a bit in his stance and I fear the times come to part ways.

I realize I’ll still see Baekhyun in class. I’ll still get to draw him but I know once midnight comes around, what I feel inside might change and I’m unsure if it’ll be for better or worse.

“Thanks again for trying—I really mean it,” he says.

“Wish I could’ve helped more. If I see it, I’ll let you know.”

“Promise?” 

“Absolutely.”

He ends our conversation with his signature smile but before he's out of view, Baekhyun turns around and quickly walks back to me. He angles down slightly to my height. It’s close enough to the point where I can see every speck and glint designed into his umber eyes and count every lash perfectly placed on his lids. He displays the same kindness and light which drew me in from the very beginning while he speaks. “The tag.”

“The tag?”

He nods slowly and just as carefully as the words leaving his lips. “Just in case, when you do see it, the tag inside the hoodie will read—Byun Baekhyun.” He spells out every beautiful letter to his name and it feels as if he’s engraving them into my heart and mind. He does the same thing he did earlier when we were in front of the classroom. His eyes wash over me, from my brows to my nose, even to the sides of my face. He takes it all in. “And I hope,” he whispers, “I hope—you won’t be disappointed tonight.”

His sentiment stays with me. 

It remains etched in the lining of my skin after he leaves and even when I reach my home. It replays over and over in my head and like my parents, he’s given me more questions than answers. But I can’t dwell on it as the hours and minutes dwindle down to midnight. The dread of what’s to come makes its unsettling way into my stomach as the twist and turns provide no comfort.

I watch as the clock counts down into the seconds and my place of refuge has always been the image of Baekhyun. Leaning back against the headboard of my bed, I close my eyes and think of him. His joy, his light. His very existence. I picture it all and if I was asked how I wanted to spend my 20th birthday, this would be it. It would be picturing him and thinking of him. 

With no expectation or hope, I feel the next day unfold and sense the slightest change in the air. It’s minuscule. It’s so small that it’s barely discernible as the faintest breeze washes over me. I slowly open my eyes and feel my heart thrum against the bones of my chest. 

Because what’s placed before me at the foot of my bed is a familiar sapphire blue hoodie. The garment is folded and tucked securely inside a knotted red bow and for a while, I let it sit there. I’m scared to touch it, frightened to even know what it could mean. I never dreamed of this outcome. I tried my hardest never to hope for it or wholly wish for it since the chances of it being true was near impossible. 

I will my hands to unwrap the ribbon and search for the one affirmation to make me believe it’s real—as real as the words he spoke. I search for the tag as my fingers brush over the small piece of fabric. 

And written on it in his handwriting is word for word, letter for letter—

Byun Baekhyun.

#baekhyun scenario #baekhyun drabble #exo scenario #exo scenarios #baekhyun imagine #baekhyun #byun baekhyun #exo #exo k #enaasteria #drabble game #kpop scenario #kpop imagine #kpop scenarios #baekhyun fluff #is it really fluff tho LMAO

[hayesit]

matt’s 2019 year in review

here it is! and it’s late because i had other/better things to do (and procrastinating), was recovering from hangovers (also procrastinating), and recovering from being sick (procrastinating).

i’ve been doing these year in review posts since 2016, so here is my fourth installment. every year i look back through my google calendar, my camera roll, and my bullet journal as a gratitude exercise and to chart my own development as an adult. 

here is my spotify wrapped 2019!

the beginning of this year was off to a good start: i met two friends that i know through the internet! i met my friend riley when she visited boston (i met her through a mutual friend and through overwatch league twitter) and my friend jimmy that i’ve known for…. 6 or 7 years (?!) through tumblr and designed the logo for me and alex’s late podcast, hardly tea, may she rest in peace. 

i moved dorm rooms in between the fall and spring semester, and once again i was not happy with where i lived. i lived with 4 rando’s that i was placed with and the 5 of us barely even talked with each other. my direct roommate i saw for only two weeks, and for the nights he slept over in the bed (that he was paying room and board for) and had the worst snoring humanly possible that not even earplugs could kill (video below). i hardly slept while he was there and roamed the halls of riverview suites like a ghost due to the anxiety i felt about my lack of sleep (we love a vicious circle)! he disappeared after those two weeks without notice and i lived in fear of him returning for the rest of the semester (which he didn’t), but returned to my normal sleep schedule. 

that semester was my first semester of full-time grad school. i got a poor grade on an assignment that had a note from the professor that said she knew i could do better and it hit me how much different grad school is from undergrad and how much more effort and dedication it requires. after crying in my professor’s office, my work ethic has improved since then, but it’s not anywhere near where i’d like it to be (more on that later). 

now to more positive things for the spring semester: i met some friends that semester both ~on and offline~ that made the semester far more bearable AND i did however truly pop off in every last one of my powerpoint presentations for class. i looooove making powerpoints and just fuckin telling jokes about my research topic and have ppl tell me that they are looking forward to my presentation & that i should teach college classes :)!

me and 4 friends had a social group in which we’d drink and play board games and forget about the board game and drunkenly talk shit called cabam after all our first initials! i always looked forward to that and dug the group chemistry a lot.

during this semester i grew a   “ beard “, otherwise known as i chose not to shave just to  “ see what would happen “ (praythatitfilledin). sorry about that!

the overwatch league was something that i had to look forward to watch every week and i had my experience enhanced through sideshow and avast’s unofficial companion streams, which guaranteed lots of laughs. i have bought tickets to two boston home games in 2020 which i am very excited about! analysts have predicted boston to be in 20th place this year (there are 20 teams) but i’m still excited for the 2020 season anyway!!

i can’t have a year-in-review of 2019 without mentioning game of thrones. due to the show’s final season being undeniably weak, i enjoyed the camaraderie with the other people that watched thrones during those six weeks. i haven’t thought about the show or its universe for quite a while, unfortunately. i truly was quite into the world of westeros, but the weakness of the end of the story cheapened the journey of each of the characters, in a way. such a shame.

while i got my diploma in december 2018, i walked across the stage of umass lowell’s tsongas arena with my bachelor of arts in psychology (and minor in theatre arts). it wasn’t as emotional or triumphant of an experience and just felt weird, considering i had already gotten my diploma and was going to remain in the clutches of rowdy the riverhawk as i am staying for my masters degree in applied behavior analysis/autism studies. i brought a ceramic monkey to graduation. it didn’t have any symbolism, but i just wanted to see if they’d stop me (which they didn’t)

 this summer was better than most summers of mine go, i hung out with alex nearly every weekend, got my very first iphone, and got a data plan. the combination of these three things got me back into playing pokemon go, an unexpectedly fun pastime! went on lots of walks!

my favorite day of summer was going to a lake with alex and our friend gianna, who i grew closer to after meeting her during macbeth last year. fond 2019 memories with gianna include: doing simulation patients with her, watching movies with her and alex, and the halloween party. what a great gd person and a great gd friend! big fan and eternally rooting for her. 

fire emblem: three houses came out on the switch in august and is, without a doubt, my game of the year. there’s truly so much to love about the game: the world, the characters, new changes made to the series, things that were gone but returned, interesting micromanaging, and best of all, how huge my brain feels when playing it. 

i got a 6-week summer job as a paraprofessional at an extended-school-year program for children with developmental disabilities at a preschool in haverhill which taught me a lot of lessons, such as: i hate cleaning shit off of children.

then i had feelings that didn’t make much sense for about a month! whoops!

my full-time job i currently have is working at my old high school as a behavior specialist. i provide consultation and work on programs to lead to more appropriate behavior in students, primarily ones with developmental disabilities. so far it’s been fairly rewarding, some days are more challenging than others, some days are a lot of sitting in meetings, and some days are a lot of running around. some days there is not much to do at all, which has its obvious upsides and downsides. working at the high school isn’t something that i want to do forever, but it’s a good place to start with. i’m definitely learning a lot and there are a lot of benefits to working here. sometimes i can work on my grad school work (which is all online until the 2020 summer semester) which is definitely huge. and my commute is either a 15 minute walk or 3 minutes if my mom drives me! 

a ~complex~ thing about working in my hometown is that it makes the most financial sense to live at home because it’s so close to work. this is my first time living at home full-time since high school and i’m not enjoying that part too much. most weekends i visit alex in lowell, but being stuck at home with no car (going to retake the license test in the spring when the ice melts!) and having to go to bed so early definitely hurts. sure, i have what is likely the lowest amount of expenses i’ll ever have in my life (no car-related payments, no rent, no groceries), but i feel landlocked. i feel like a teenager with minimal freedom, which is in part because my mom doesn’t quite understand yet that i’m a 22 year-old that should have a lot more freedom than i do now. the most i really do on weekdays after work gets out (2:30p) is go to savers with my mom if it’s tuesday (senior citizen day), maybe go for a walk if it’s nice out (which for most of the school year, it isn’t), or be on the computer watching bon appetit videos and playing overwatch, fire emblem, or pokemon, eat a bland dinner at 6, go to bed at around 9:30. sad! truly not a situation that i want to be trapped in that much that much longer!

i think the best and most important part of this year was becoming closer with alex. as i mentioned before, we see each other most weekends, to our great benefit. our living situations have flip-flopped, with me living at home and alex living in an apartment near campus, which in both similar and different ways have taken their respective tolls on us. having each other while going through changes and stagnations in our lives has been immeasurably important. thank you alex for providing a place to be myself other than my own head. thank you for being my best friend. 

now i come to the thing that i’m most excited about for 2020. not 2 suck my own horn but i have cobbled together a fuckin dream team of five friends (me, alex, chris, kelly, and molly). the two times we have all gotten together it has been so satisfying in such a wonderful and otherworldly way that i am filled to the brim of happiness being around them. the craziest thing is that i met chris and kelly through twitter! TWITTER. and they’re real-ass people and my real-ass friends! i haven’t been so pleased with something in my life like this for so long and it feels so good to have adult friends that i have chosen rather than friends by circumstance. it’s truly a crime that we can’t see each other more often, but we already have a day picked out for the next time we all do something together. feeling emotional writing this paragraph bc i love me gd friends so much!

there is a lot of uncertainty about this new year for me. i sure as fuck don’t want to live at home more than i have to but don’t know where to go, my practicum class starts for me this summer which means i’ll most likely have to change jobs (fine by me, but will be exhausting), i recently began my search for therapists and hope to find one soon to help me ~unpack things~, my thesis begins in the fall semester and i don’t know what to do for it, and i’m not 100% dead-set on working in special education. it’s been hard transitioning from living on campus and going to school full-time to the life i have now. 

#year in review #personal

[bbyboybrock--archived]

Serendipity (C.B) | Chapter 15

Summary: Serendipity: (n) the chance occurrence of events in a beneficial way

Popular youtuber Isabella Hart, known as Bella to her audience, bends over backwards to separate her youtube life from her private life. Known for her overall clean content and her bubbly attitude, Isabella has a wild side to her that only those inside the youtube community know about. When Bella meets Colby during one of the trap house parties she finally meets someone she can be her genuine self with. When trouble arises after their meeting, will Bella be able to hand the pressure or will she destroy her relationship with Colby as well as herself in the process. [This starts in 2018]

Written: 2019

Word Count: 2,882

Warnings: swearing

Serendipity Masterlist

"Colby, if you don't get out of my car and get on your flight, Sam, you, and me are not going to be happy." I sit in the drop-off area for LAX. A few people are just angry honking at me for prolonging my designated drop off time.

"I'm going, but only if I know you're going to be okay. Only if you're going to be fine while I'm gone." I look past Colby at Sam who is waiting for him outside.

Colby's been like this for a week. Sam and Colby have had this trip planned for a while, but since I nearly died last week he's been trying to push back the trip. Normally, Sam would put his best friend's feeling first and push the trip back indefinitely. But every time I heard them talking about it, I would go behind Colby's back and tell Sam that they're still going. If they don't go now they're going to run out of videos soon. I already ruined my career, and I'll be damned if I let my personal shit ruin Sam and Colby's careers too.

"Baby, it's fine. I'm a little better than I was last week. And if shit hits the fan again, I have people here who can help out. We talked about this. Don't do this to Sam."

He pauses for a second and closes his eyes, "Fine, but we'll talk a lot."

"Okay, fine. Go before Sam comes and drags you out of the car." I give Colby a quick kiss goodbye before pushing him out of the car. As soon as the door closes I lock the door before he changes his mind. I watch them go inside and quickly drive away before the airport security gets on my case.

For the past week, I've stayed at the trap house. The only ones who knew about my trip to the hospital were Sam and Colby, but whenever someone saw me in the house they would treat me like a doll. Because they assumed that I would fall apart. Considering everything that happened, they assumed right. Jake wouldn't even hang around me for the week unless someone else was in the room. Luckily for him, Colby would hardly let me out of his sight. I could only get peace in the bathroom; if I was in there for longer than 5 minutes he would panic. I know he means well, but it made everything even more overwhelming.

Yesterday Colby took me out of the house for the first time, after a lot of persuading. The whole week I didn't have a phone or my laptop. Which was fine because I was surrounded by other people and if anyone wanted to get in contact with me, they could ask Colby or come to the house. But now that I'm going back to living alone in my apartment, Colby insisted that I get a new phone. It was one of the conditions of him going on his trip. So he took me to the phone store, where I had to explain why the phone was broken and why I had to get a new number. On top of that, I had to go grocery shopping. While we were out, Colby also decided that we should eat out. Needless to say, I had enough of the outside world. I couldn't even enjoy my time because I was nervous that someone would approach me and bring up the whole leak situation.

****

I get into my apartment and lock the door. I scan the living room for a second before going into my room and collapsing on my bed. Alone at last. Besides the members of the trap house, Colby's Netflix account, and Colby the only other thing I had to keep me occupied and sane was paper and pen. I wrote a lot. You could call them poems or songs. The only reason I'm looking forward to being home alone is being about to play around with my instruments and see what comes of it. I dropped my dance and music minors last week too. They weren't as fun as I hoped and what I wanted to learn I figured I could learn on the internet instead of spending more money than I already have. Speaking of school, I'm glad that I decided to take online classes this semester. I got ahead weeks ago so all I have to do is just take it slow before everything catches up.

I stare at the ceiling for a little bit before pushing myself off my bed and dragging myself to my office. All my youtube crap is still out. My cameras, mics, and lights face a corner that hides my computer and instruments. My desk is cluttered with SD cards and my external hard drive. There are so many edited and unedited videos that I worked so hard on that are probably never going to see the light of day now. Even if I decided to go back to youtube, I can't just go back to posting the same content. It's just not me anymore.

I slowly and carefully start packing away all of my youtube gear in a box. Even if I never do any of this again, I might be able to sell or give my stuff to someone who could actually use it. As I push the box of stuff into the small closet my phone begins to ring. I slide my phone out of my pocket and quickly answer.

"Hello?" I close the closet door and drop myself to the floor. The box was heavier than I imagine.

"I was just calling you to tell you that we're about to take off. Why are you out of breath?" Colby says on the other end.

"Oh, you know... just cleaning up. I'll probably be asleep or something when you land though. Just text me. Have a safe flight, I love you."

"I love you too. I'll call you tomorrow." I end the call with Colby and go to mess around on my instruments for a few hours.

****

I sit in my car parked in front of the slap house making sure I have everything. A few days ago, after messing around on my instruments for a while, everything began to sound decent. I wondered what it would sound like with actual studio sounding music. I wanted to do it myself because I would have full control but I have no idea where to begin. Luckily, I remembered that Mike is doing just that. I asked him last night if he could teach me how to mix music on my computer.

"Hey, why are you just sitting in my driveway?" Mike says as he comes from the house.

"I'm just thinking." I grab my back and exit the car. I give Mike hug and follow him inside.

"I was surprised to hear from you actually. You've been like, dead to the world for a while."

"I didn't have a phone for a week. My number got leaked and I kind of broke my phone. Where are Kev and Aryia?" I sit down on the couch and set my bag on the floor.

"They're at work. So what did you need help with?"

"I will pay you or take you out for lunch—"

"Now I'm scared. What do you need me to do?" I ignore Mike and grab my notebook out of my bag.

"Calm down, I'm not going to ask you to murder someone for me. It's just that in the past week and the past couple of days I was messing around and— You know what? Just look." I don't know why I can't say it.

Mike takes the notebook and flips through it for a second. I sit nervously as Mike scans a few of the pages.

"Wait, is this entire notebook filled with songs?"

"I mean technically yes. The very first page is blank because it's a thing I do. Then immediately after that, I have a table of contents. Before I even began filling in the songs. I had the lyrics on sheets of paper. Then when I transferred them into the notebook I thought that I should add a little drawing based on the song. Then when I was doing the actual music part I figured that each instrument should have its own set of pages so each song is in there multiple times." I stop myself from talking too much. When I thought about fixing my songs up last night I became excited for the first time in a while.

"And what did you need my help with? Did you want to collab or something?"

"No, at least not right now. I was trying to record everything to see how it would sound together. But the way I was doing it was sloppy and time-consuming. I know you mix and make your own music. I was just wondering if you can give me some pointers. Like what program to use and how to use it. Like I said earlier, I'll pay you or take you to lunch." I stand there for a second and watch Mike consider helping me.

"I don't want your money, but I will take your offer for lunch." He takes my notebook and walks into his room. I follow quickly behind him.

****

After nearly two hours of Mike trying to teach me how to make music on my computer, we decided to go out to lunch. And because it's such a nice day out, we decided to eat outside. For once, it's not boiling or freezing. The temperature is just right. I'm not as nervous to be out in public like this. Everything should have died down a bit.

"So, what are you going to do? Become a singer?" Mike asks in between bites of his burger.

"I haven't thought about what I'm going to be doing. Right now, this is just a hobby. How are you doing? Like, really doing." I take another bite of my patty melt.

"In all honesty, I'm doing a lot better. I'm just focusing on myself and music. Jesus, I should be asking you that."

Mike and Xepher broker up not too long ago because Mike wasn't doing well mentally. He did what I tried to do with Colby. Colby, like Xepher, understood why a break was needed. But it wasn't going to work if I had to stay with Colby for a while. He would have gladly taken the couch if I told him I didn't feel comfortable with him sleeping next to me. But Mike and Xepher had a clean break, meaning no contact what so ever. That would have worked for us too because I scared Colby shitless.

"I'm okay. I moped around for a week, so I'm forcing myself to do other things. Which explains all of this." I finish my patty melt and just sip on my shake.

"Don't push yourself too much. Where's Colby?" Mike eats a couple fries on my plate.

"Colby is somewhere in the world doing illegal shit with Sam. I have all of his information on my phone in case of emergencies, but I highly doubt I'll need it."

"Those two are fucking lucky." Mike and I joke around and talk about random topics a bit more.

While Mike and I get back on the topic of music, I feel something ice-cold suddenly be poured on my head. I jump up and keep my head down to avoid whatever is on my head from dripping into my eyes. I slowly stand up and turn around to find two girls with empty cups in their hands laughing. One of them has her phone in her hand.

"What the fuck was that for?" Mike asks walking next to me.

"You looked a little thirsty there, we thought we could help you a bit." One of the girls with long, dark brown hair says. Her friend with short red hair cackles like the witch she is.

"I didn't know prostitutes worked during the day? What's the matter, went broke after losing all of your sponsorships?" Said the witch.

"You—"

"Mike, drop it. They're not worth it." I put my arm out to stop Mike from making things worse.

The server walks out and to see what the commotion is. I go in my bag, grab two twenty dollar bills and put it on the table. It's more than our food cost but at this point, I don't care. I grab my bag and grab Mike's hand and high tail it out of there. The whole time I bite my tongue to keep myself from crying. The whole time we are walking away, tweedle dee and tweedle bitch follow us yelling insults. I let go of Mike and turn around to face them.

"Will you please leave us alone? I've literally done nothing to you two." My efforts to not cry in front of them falter as tears escape me.

"I think us having to see your fat naked ass all over the internet counts as torture. If you wanted to be relevant again, there are so many other things you could have done."

"You shouldn't believe everything you see online. And you really shouldn't talk about things you don't understand." I stop myself from yelling at them and walk off.

"Stop following her or we'll call the police for harassment," Mike says before following me.

I don't even know where I'm going. I can't go to my car, the seat will be sticky and a mess. Can't just walk back to mine or Mike's place, they're too far from where we are. Eventually, I stop walking and crouch down in the middle of the sidewalk crying. I had a slightly bad feeling about today when I woke up. I brushed it off as paranoia and left. Everything was going so well today that I let my guard down. I should have listened to my gut.

"Isabella, come on. Let's sit here for a second." Mike helped me up and took me to a bench.

"L-let's just go," I say trying to wipe my tears. I'm really sticky.

"Wait here for a second." Mike runs off towards the shops.

While waiting I touch the top of my head. One of the things that was poured on me was definitely a juice. The other feels like a smoothie. Those dumb bitches really spent money to pour two good drinks on my head. Or maybe they bought those drinks to enjoy but then wasted them. Either way, it's ridiculous.

Mike comes back with a CVS bag. He sets the bag between us and starts pulling things out. He pulls out a couple of big water bottles and some wipes.

"Take off your shoes, I'll clean them. Here take the water bottles and rinse out your hair or something." I kick off my shows and hand them to Mike. I stand up and walk a little bit away from the bench and start pouring the water over my head. A few seconds later a familiar ring tone fills the silence. Mike digs in my bag and looks at it. He sees that I can't answer it and takes it upon myself to answer my phone.

"Hey, Colby... Yeah, it's Mike... Izzy? She can't come to the phone right now... Why do I have her phone? That's a long story... That's also a long story—" I take the phone from Mike and brace myself before putting the phone to my ear.

"Hey, babe, what's up? Aren't you supposed to be breaking into bandos right now?" Hopefully, Mike didn't make things sound suspicious.

"Sam and I finished earlier than we thought and I wanted to surprise you but everyone is too busy to pick us up. Getting an uber to the airport is nearly impossible. Are you busy?"

"I was hanging out with Mike but I was just about to drop him off. I can be there in half an hour."

"I don't want to rush you, we can find another way home."

"Trust me, it's fine. I'll see you soon." I hang up before Colby could ask questions. I give Mike a look for answering the phone.

"I'll go with you and drive. I had nothing planned for today." Mike says as he cleans my shoes.

"You don't have to. I'm fine. It's fine. Everything is fine. It was a momentary setback, but all is good."

Mike looks at me with sad eyes. I smile at him and finish dumping the bottles at me and slip my shoes on.

****

I dropped off Mike and went to the airport to pick up Sam and Colby. I could tell by the look on their faces that Mike told them. I had changed, Mike bought me some clothes while he was at CVS and changed before leaving, and my hair was mostly dry. I was hoping that it would look like I went to the beach. Luckily, neither Sam or Colby mention the incident. I drop Sam off and bring Colby to my apartment, per his request, and spend the rest of the say with him. He doesn't mention it for the rest of the night.

#colby #colby brock #colby fan fic #colby fanfic #colby fan fiction #colby fanfiction #colby brock fan fic #colby brock fanfic #colby brock fanfiction #colby brock fan fiction

[shadyelizabeth]

Without Goodbyes

Based on this prompt by @dailywritingprompt-blog

“Hey, guys!”

Adrien looked up from the cat video Nino was streaming on his phone. Alya sauntered toward them, waving, with a bright smile on her face.

“Hey, Alya!”

“Babe!” Nino hopped up from the tabletop they were sitting on, his weight rattling the bench. Wrapping his girlfriend in his arms, he said, “Oh, how I’ve missed you!”

“I was only gone for two days,” she said, patting him not so gently on the back.

“It seemed like the longest two days EVER!” Nino squeezed her tighter.

“Ugh!” Alya brought her hands up between them and pushed. Caught off guard, Nino stumbled backward, the backs of his knees hitting the bench seat before he landed on his butt. “I didn’t know you were the clingy type.”

Adrien tried to hide the smile threatening to let loose on his lips behind his hand, but his best friend caught him, a look of hurt flashing across his face.

He clapped Nino on the shoulder and squeezed, hoping to convey it was all in good fun. 

Turning back to Alya, he asked, “Where’d you go this weekend?”

“Nora took me up to Senils so I could do research for my presentation on Joan of Arc.”

“Sounds fun! Learn anything interesting?”

“Oh, tons! But I’m not going to say anything now. You’ll get to learn about how kickass Joan was in History class with everyone else.”

“Looking forward to it!”

Tapping out a quick message on her phone, she said, “Hey, have either of you seen or talked to Marinette?”

Adrien’s eyes scanned the courtyard out of habit. Consciously, he knew if Marinette wasn’t by Alya’s side, she was going to be nowhere to be found. 

He’d been busy with his father all weekend, and even in the days before, working on designs for the new spring line, going back and forth on cuts and finishes, getting poked and prodded, being measured and tailored. He hadn’t had much time for anything else other than sleeping and eating, barely squeezing in time for homework. Adrien knew he’d been distracted but didn’t realize how unobservant he’d been; he couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen Marinette, let alone talked to her.

Shaking his head, Adrien said, “No, I haven’t. Is everything okay?”

“I don’t know.” Alya shrugged. “She was acting weirder than usual on Thursday, smiling, pretending like everything was fine, but I could tell something was off. Then, she didn’t show up to school at all on Friday. I didn’t have time to go by after school because Nora wanted to get on the road before traffic got backed up. I had my phone off all weekend trying to focus, and now she’s absent from school again. I’m starting to get worried.”

“Have you tried calling her? Maybe she’s just running late. It is Marinette,” Nino said.

“Of course.” Alya crossed her arms. “But it’s going straight to voicemail, and all of my texts have gone unanswered.”

Nino stood and wrapped a comforting arm around her. He dropped a small kiss on her temple.

Meeting Alya’s eyes, Adrien said, “Maybe she’s sick,” wanting to reassure her as much as he was reassuring himself, refusing to even think that anything bad could’ve happened to his–to their friend.

“Maybe,” she said, sounding unconvinced. “If she doesn’t show up today, I’ll check on her after school. I would go at lunch, but I need to prepare for my presentation.”

“I can go,” Adrien offered, maybe a little too quickly. “At lunch.” He couldn’t put his finger on the sensation simmering low in his gut; he just knew he would feel more at ease the sooner he knew Marinette was okay.

“Let us know as soon as you hear something, dude?”

“Will do.” 

As if waiting for their conversation to end, the first bell rang, signaling six minutes before class was to begin. 

Standing and shouldering his messenger bag, he said, “I’ll talk to you guys later.”

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

The shopkeeper’s bell jingled when Adrien pushed open the door of the boulangerie. The warm smell of fresh bread and something light and sweet like sugar tickled his nose. Mr. Dupain’s back was turned towards the door as he kneaded a large lump of dough, patches of flour circling his arms. His eyes glanced over the displays of pastries–braids of bread and fruit-filled tarts, colossal cookies, and their Paris-famous macarons.

“Have a good day.” The bell over the door tinkled once more. “Adrien,” came Mrs. Cheng’s motherly tone. Mr. Dupain’s movements halted, his shoulders tensing, his still, hulking form like a brick wall. The knot in Adrien’s stomach tightened. “What can I do for you?”

“Hello, Mrs. Cheng. None of us have heard from Marinette in a few days. I wanted to come by and see if everything was okay.”

Mr. Dupain turned around, wiping his hands on his apron. His eyes met his wife’s, an intimate conversation shared between them. After a few silent moments, Mrs. Cheng said, “She’s upstairs, but let me call her first to see if she would like company.”

“Is everything okay?” he asked, both hands clutching the strap of his bag. The not knowing mixed with her parents’ behavior further unsettled him.

She hesitated, giving him a small smile that didn’t reach anywhere near her eyes. “Let me call Marinette. Tom can get you anything you want while you wait.”

Mrs. Cheng disappeared into the back room. Mr. Dupain stepped forward. “What can I get you, son? The croissants just came out of the oven a few minutes before you walked in, and we’re trying out some floral themed macarons for the season. We’ve currently got rose, lavender, and honeysuckle.” The enthusiasm in which he usually spoke about his creations wasn’t there.

This must be really bad.

Mrs. Cheng exited the back room, walking over to stand next to her husband, leaning her slight frame against his. “You can go on up; the front door is open. Marinette’s in her room. Adrien, try not to be too upset with her.”

“No, thank you. I don’t have much of an appetite for anything right now.”

“I know what you mean, kid.”

“Thank you,” he said around a dry throat. His feet took him behind the counter and through the backroom to the staircase, up one step after another, without really being aware of what he was doing. If whatever was going on had Marinette’s usually cheerful parents down, it had to be serious. But what?

Was Marinette sick? … No, that couldn’t be it. Mrs. Cheng said not to be too upset with her, so it had to be something that she’d done. Something troubling, but it was Marinette. She was so pure and loyal and just, always willing to lend a helping hand. Always bringing sweet treats to school for everyone to share. 

Maybe it had something to do with school? Maybe that’s why she hadn’t been there for the last few days?

When Adrien came to a stop at the top of the steps, he raised his hand to knock before remembering Mrs. Cheng said the door was open.

Turning the brass knob, he let himself in. 

Everything was exactly the same as the last time he’d been over. Rain boots were lined up by the door from biggest to smallest. A throw blanket was draped over the back of the couch. Exactly three stools sat around the countertop table, and sunlight poured in through the many windows that lined the room. The space felt lived in, cozy, like home.

Not wanting to linger, he quickly crossed the floor and started up towards Marinette’s room. The door was open, but he still knocked to announce himself.

“Come on in,” she said, her voice devoid of its usual perkiness. 

Climbing the last few rungs up, Adrien’s eyes were immediately drawn to the half dozen cardboard boxes that littered the floor of Marinette’s room. Almost everything used to decorate her room looked to be packed away, from the gadgets and trinkets that lined her desk to the sewing machine she used to create her unique designs. Her pink walls were lighter in the spots where her posters used to be. 

She was sitting on her chaise folding a pile of laundry, laying each folded piece into a big pink suitcase.

Even though it was clear what she was doing, Adrien still asked, “What’s going on, Marinette?”

Sighing, she pushed some clothes aside to make room for him to sit. He was across the room in two steps, dropping his messenger bag at his feet. Scanning her face, her eyes were tired and red; she’d definitely been crying.

She took a deep breath and said, “I’m moving.”

The knot in his stomach had ascended to his throat. Moving? Marinette had been such a vital constant in his life, since day one, he couldn’t imagine a future without her. He never thought he’d have to. 

“To where?” he managed to croak out. 

“Milan.” Her expression was neutral, neither excitement nor disappointment portrayed on her face. 

“When are you leaving?”

“My flight leaves tomorrow morning at 7AM.”

Adrien felt his face draw in, his eyebrows drawn into a concerning V. “But your parents–the bakery is still–and …” he trailed off. The bakery was still fully operational. Everything downstairs was still exactly where it should have been. Marinette’s room was the only one that was packed because she was the only one who was leaving. “You’re going by yourself.”

She nodded slowly.

“Why?”

“I got accepted into a design school there. Normally, they wouldn’t allow students to start after the semester has already begun, but because of my portfolio and the work I’ve done with your dad, they’re letting me start a little late.”

He blinked a few times, trying to process what he was hearing. Marinette was leaving. She was moving to Italy. To go to school. She was leaving in the morning. She would be gone in the morning.

Closing his eyes, he shook his head ever so slightly before opening them again. “No one’s heard from you in days. Were you planning on leaving without saying goodbye?”

Averting her gaze, she nodded once more. “I thought it’d be easier this way.” Her voice was so small. “I don’t know how to say goodbye to Nino, to Alya”–her eyes flashed up for a few seconds then darted away–“to you. I figured if I could just get out of here, I would write you all letters explaining where I’d gone and why.”

Adrien didn’t know what to say. He could’ve been mad about Marinette’s plan to leave without telling anyone, but that didn’t change the fact that she was leaving. That he had to finish out the rest of third year and all of fourth without her. That he’d be losing one of his best friends.

Was that all they were? They’d been thrown together so many times because of Nino and Alya, but as of late, more and more often it had been just the two of them. Playing videos at her house. Finding the quietest corner of the school library to study in, only to usually end up talking about everything but school. They’d had a running bimonthly lunch date for the last three or four months, taking a long stroll in the park afterward to walk off their meal.

Was this dreadful heavy feeling in his chest indicative of the loss he was facing? Or the potential of what could’ve been?

“Please say something.”

His mouth quivered as he fought to hold in the swell of emotions he was feeling. If this was what Marinette wanted, he would be happy for her. 

Reaching for her hand, he laced their fingers together, her skin rough and calloused. Mustering up his best smile, he said, “You, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, deserve everything you’ve ever wanted and more. You’re so tremendously talented, you’ll take Milan by storm just like you did Paris.” He tipped forward, resting his forehead against hers. “We’re all going to miss you. Maybe me most of all.” He gave her hand a small squeeze.

“I’m gonna miss you too.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

They sat in silence, savoring these last moments together. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed before Marinette spoke. 

“Adrien?”

“Yes.”

“I know this is a big favor to ask, but could you not tell anyone else?

Sitting back so he could see her face, the desperation in her eyes shone through. He hated lying to his friends, even if was for good reasons, but Marinette had never asked him for anything. This, he could do.

Cupping her face, he said, “For you, anything.”

“Thank you.”

He nodded once, slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. A million things left unspoken filled the space between them. He knew now wasn’t the time to start something he should’ve long before, but it was now or never.

Brushing his thumb across her cheek, he said, “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes.”

Adrien guided her mouth to his, their lips meeting in a soft embrace. Her free hand landed on his thigh, supporting her weight when she leaned in. The kiss was sweet and tentative, full of curiosity and restraint. There was a hint of remorse about what could have been but also a promise of what could be.

Marinette broke first, “wow” escaping in a breath. 

Tipping her head down, he pressed a kiss to her forehead and then stood up. Her eyes went wide with confusion.

“Sorry,” he started. “I just know if I don’t leave now, I never will. Before I do, promise me you’ll write and text and call?”

“Of course,” she agreed.

“And when you come home, you’ll make time to see me and tell me all about the fashion and the shows and the high couture life you’ve been living?”

“One last thing.” He held out his hand, which she took, drawing her up into a standing position. They were toe-to-toe, her eyes so blue and her cheeks still pink from their kiss. “If you don’t fall madly in love with some handsome Italian boy, maybe one day you could give me a chance?”

“Yeah.” She smiled, the pink in her cheeks turning a shade rosier. “I think I can do that.”

Opening his arms, Marinette stepped into them. Her head fit perfectly in the crook of his neck, and he thought to himself, She’s definitely worth waiting for.

He slowly untangled himself from her, his hands sliding down the backs of her arms, their fingertips catching. He scooped up his bag and walked backward toward the door. “See ya later, Marinette.”

“Goodbye for now, Adrien.”

#miraculous ladybug #mlb #except everyone's a normal teenager #no superpowers #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #adrienette #alya cesaire #nino lahiffe #dj wifi #kinda #tom dupain #sabine cheng #i'm a little rusty #probably more than a little #hopefully fourth time is the fucking charm