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d0llpie · 3 years

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Angry confessions

Summary: You’ve tried everything to make Kyotani realise you like him but he thinks you’re joking

Kyotani x reader

Warnings: cursing

angst to fluff, mutual pining

a/n: i might make a part 2 but i’m not sure, lmk if you want one!

wc: 2.5k

Kyotani couldn’t stand you. Your annoying smile and indifferent attitude while he told you to get lost. Couldnt you take a hint? Apparently not as you continued to greet him the same warm way every time you saw him, slipping him notes during class and flirting with him. Couldnt you flirt with some other poor soul? he couldn’t handle it anymore, knowing you weren’t really flirting with him. Maybe you did flirt with others, that only made it worse, knowing it wasn’t just him who got to see your smile and teasing laugh everyday. Honestly he didn’t know which way was worse, all he knew was that he was sick of you.

It started at practise, he was used to Oikawa’s fan girls attending their practise just to ogle at the captain, that always annoyed him but he soon found you to be worse. Oikawa has tossed him a ball to spike down and you started cheering for him. He whipped his head around to see you smiling brightly down at him, waving. He was taken back, his scowl dropping for a minute as the tips of his ears turned red before he continued on with practise, trying to ignore your cheers everytime he spiked. You trailed behind him to the school date, chatting on about your day and how amazing Kyo’s spikes were while he just grunted and continued walking in front of you, trying to speed up. Every time he sped up, you did too, he wasn’t sure if you were just stupid or if you didn’t care that he was trying to get away from you but either way it confused him.

Since then you’d follow him around, having one sided conversations with the back of his head on the way to the gym, in between classes and sometimes even during lunch times when you weren’t with your friends. He wished you wouldn’t flirt so much, it was the worst part of your whole fan girl act. You’d compliment his hair, his spikes and his eyes often, it came out so naturally that it made him tense up and pause every time, trying to calm down the beating of his heart in his ears. Why couldn’t you just stick to fangirling over Oikawa? Kyotani could take you following him and talking about your day if it wasn’t for the flirting act. He even liked hearing about your day, it was cute to hear you ramble on until you decided to give him false hope with your remarks, sometimes even trying to hold his hand or rest your head on his shoulder.

It had been a few months now and you weren’t sure what to do. You were in a small cafe with your cousin Iwaizumi, opting to seek out the spiker for advice as a last resort.

“I don’t know Iwa, i’ve been flirting with him for months and coming to all your games to cheer him on and he doesn’t even look at me” you fiddling with your fork, huffing out dramatically.

“We’ll have you actually told him you like him or asked him to hang out?” you glared at his condescending tone

“I shouldn’t have to tell him! I don’t know how much more obvious i can get...plus i ask him to have lunch with me all the time” you sighed, feeling your heart sink. You’d thought that he didn’t like you, it was obvious at first that he found you irritating but overtime you thought he’d warm up. Maybe you were just being stupid, setting yourself up for heartbreak at your inevitable rejection. Still, you held on tight to the tiny bit of hope you still had.

“hey.” Iwa waved his hand in front of you, pulling you from your thoughts “I mean surely him ignoring you can’t get any worse if you actually confess right? Plus maybe i’m wrong and he does like you so you’ll actually make some progress” you hummed in agreement, though you were hesitant

“How am i supposed to confess though? He doesn’t even look at me when we talk, well, i talk..” you realised just how pathetic you sounded, how desperate. Was this how Oikawa’s fan girls felt? Ignorantly hopeful for someone who was out of reach? Well at least Oikawa spoke to his fan girls...

“Y/n...not to sound rude or anything, but why do you like this kid? He’s not exactly treating you very well..” you looked up at your cousin who was looking at you with eyes full of concern.

“Well he may not seem like the sweet type but i’ve seen him when he’s alone, he’s really cute when he doesn’t look like he’s on the warpath, plus i think he’s just shy around me and doesn’t know how to act around others, he’s sweet though, he doodles in his notebooks. Also, he’s really passionate about volleyball! i remember the first time i saw him spike, he actually smiled!” you giggled at the memory, blushing at the thought of Kyo.

“Whatever y/n, you need to confess before i do it for you.” you gasped in feign shock “You wouldn’t dare iwa-chan~” you laughed at Iwaizumi’s enraged expression “Stop hanging out with Oikawa ugh” you laughed at him, sipping on your hot chocolate you’d forgotten about.

Kyotani had woken up earlier than usual, deciding to go for a walk. While he was walking his mind drifted back to you, looking behind him half expecting you to be there talking his ear off about random things, making him blush with your flirting. It was cruel how you could flirt with him so shamelessly and not mean it. He so badly wanted you to mean it. He grunted in frustration, picking up his pace until he was running, he was running past a few shops and cafes when he saw you. You were sitting by the window as the sun hit you, his eyes widened, you truly were so pretty to him. He almost stopped running until he saw who you were looking at, Iwaizumi was there. Of course you’d be on a date with him, he was so strong and open. You deserved someone like Iwaizumi he supposed, someone who could actually talk to you, someone who was better than him. He continued running despite feeling his own heart in his throat, making it harder to breathe.

“I’m not writing him a letter Iwa.” you rolled your eyes at his suggestion, looking out the window to see a familiar head of blonde flash past in a blur. “Iwa! He just ran past” you stood up from your seat excitedly, smile crossing your face. “Wow you’re worse than i thought. Y/n, you’re a simp.” You weren’t even offended at his words “i mean can you blame me?” you sat back down, “Yes y/n, yes i can. You probably want to go after him right now” although he was joking he looked up to see you staring back at him hopefully. “Oh my god y/n, fine! Go. I’ll see you at school tomorrow. “ You got up and hugged Iwa squeeling, “Thank you thank you, if i don’t come to school tomorrow i’m either crying about being rejected or on a date with my handsome boyfriend, bye!” “Do not skip school y/n!” Iwa yelled after you as you ran out of the cafe, heading down the same path Kyo took.

As you passed by a park, you noticed Kyotani sitting under a tree, panting heavily. “Kyo!” You called out, smiling brightly as you made your way over to him, ignoring the frustrated frown on his face. “What” he gruffly replied, clearly annoyed but you were ecstatic to get a reply from him. “I actually wanted to tell you something!” It’s now or never you thought, this was a perfect time to do it, you were ready for either response, you waited for him to look up at you before continuing.

“Um, i haven’t really thought of what to say so i’m just going to say it, i like you. I was wondering if you wanted to go out with me? You don’t have to of course but i really wanted you to know” you played with your hands while you waited for him to say something, silence was not what you expected but- “are you serious right now?” he was angry?, you tilted your head to the side “of course, i’m surprised you didn’t already kn-” “What is wrong with you? First you follow me around everywhere, flirting with me and annoying the fuck out of me, now this? haven’t you played around enough? Honestly i didn’t think you’d take it this far, that’s just low y/n.” the tone in his voice was enough to have you back away a little, confusion covered your face, you definitely hadn’t anticipated this kind of response. Despite your heart sinking at the rejection, you couldn’t help but feel a little angry as well. Who was he to talk to you like that. “What the fuck are you talking about Kyo. A simple ‘Sorry i don’t feel the same’ would’ve sufficed, honestly this is the most you’ve ever said to me and it’s this?” He was taken back by your reaction. You were serious? “Why would you try confess to me while you were just on a date then huh?” you furrowed your brows in confusion before it dawned on you, he thought you were dating Iwaizumi. Now you understood more of what he was saying, you opened your mouth to speak but he interrupted you. “Yeah, I saw. You can drop the act now it was very funny. Now you can fucking leave me alone and stop acting like Oikawa’s clingy fangirls. I’ll finally stop having to hear you yapping in my fucking ear all day.” he wasn’t expecting to look up and see tears rolling down your cheeks. “Iwaizumi is my cousin..” you whispered meekly before turning back in the direction of the cafe, running home.

Kyotani sat there dumbfounded. You were serious. He just called the girl he liked annoying and clingy after she tried to confess all because he was too insecure and jumped to conclusions. “Fucking idiot.” he cursed himself out under his breath.

He didn’t know what to do, he couldn’t sleep, every time he closed his eyes he just saw that heartbroken look on your face, eyes filled with tears. Because of him. He groaned before going to his desk, he begun to write a letter. The thought of you never coming to his games anymore, you never cheering for him again, telling him about your day and that new show you start, even the flirting, he knew he couldn’t get through the day without it. You weren’t annoying, you were the only person who managed to make him stop scowling, he was relaxed around you.

You walked into your first class, finding a letter on your desk. Your eyes flitted over to Kyo who was sitting a few seats away looking away nervously, you could see how red he was from here. You tucked the letter into your bag, he didn’t deserve your attention and you were determined to not talk to him or look at him anymore. Kyotani watched you put away his letter, he frowned, you’d probably just read it later. He didn’t want to get discouraged so he waited for you during lunch but you never came. He was getting antsy, it was so quiet. After his final classes he was excited to go to practise, getting there on time for once, only you weren’t there. Instead he was met with an angry Iwaizumi “what the fuck did you do to her!” he boomed, gaining the attention of everyone in the gym. Kyotani looked down, surprising everyone “where is she?” he asked quietly, Iwaizumi quirked his brow, crossing his arms over his chest. “She’s probably at home or the cafe.” Kyotani looked up, running out of the gym ignoring Oikawa’s calls to come back and train.

You were sitting in a booth at the cafe, scrolling on your phone when you remembered the letter. You opened it despite your hesitation and began reading.

Y/n,

I used to find you irritating, i couldn’t understand why someone as pretty as you would follow me around and talk to me when i was so cold to you. I took your flirting as you either making fun of me or just you having a flirtatious personality so i would get annoyed. About yesterday, i misunderstood completely and i’m so sorry for snapping at you. I never meant to lash out on you and i never wanted to. I was fed up with the person i liked toying with me and when i found out you liked me back i didn’t believe you.

I’m sorry for hurting you, if you let me be yours i swear i’ll never hurt you again. I never want you to cry because of me ever again, i like you too y/n and i’m sorry i was too much of a pussy to tell you sooner.

I hope you forgive me

-Kyotani.

You smiled at the letter, looking up at the sound of the cafe bell ringing to see Kyotani, out of breath staring at you. You smiled up at him like usual and he returned it, moving towards you quickly. “Kyo-“ he cut you off, smashing his lips against yours, his lips were gentle despite the desperate hold he had on you, cradling your head in one hand and gripping your collar in the other. You smiled against the kiss, cupping his cheek before pulling away. “Hi” you giggled as he sat down in front of you, holding your hand on the table “Hi” he smirked at you. “Y/n, can i take you to dinner?” you nodded happily “of course you can handsome~” he blushed furiously and this time you got to see, you cupped his cheek again, leaning over to kiss his cheek softly, only making it worse. “C’mon doll” he pulled you up, holding your hand as you exited the cafe, walking side by side as he intertwined your fingers, smiling down at you with a soft expression. How was he so blind?

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sondepoch · 4 years

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HC: They see MC’s sketchbook!

Art. It’s a private thing. Showing someone your work is akin to showing them a piece of your soul, an insight into who you are and everything that lies within. So when the Obey Me! boys get a glimpse of your sketchbook, they find themselves wanting for more—and all in different ways.

Word Count: 6.0k

*Mild NSFW themes for Asmo & Diavolo

Characters: All Brothers + All Undateables + Luke

MASTERLIST

Lucifer

At the beginning of the year, there is 0 trust between the two of you

Not only has he actively tried to kill you, but he’s already so suspicious of the pacts you’re making with his brothers that he can’t help but be wary every time you cross paths

So when he realizes that you’re always absentmindedly scribbling in a notepad every time you interact, he’s more than a little perturbed by it

100% thinks you’re secretly taking notes on his and his brothers’ behavior to use it against them

So, obviously, when he next sees you using it in his presence, he wastes no time in snatching the notebook from your hands

“Oh hey, Lucif—what are you doing?!”

“Nothing you should be concerned with, human.”

“That’s my sketchbook you’re holding!”

“Sketchbook?”

Instantly flips it open and sure enough, inside there’s nothing but doodles and sketches

luci.is.confuzzled.exe

He’s still convinced that there must be something incriminating in the book, so he continues flipping through it. But the more he sees, the more he realizes how wrong he is

It’s only when he flips to the section with his family that he begins to feel guilty

In the beginning, you just draw basic poses. Mammon, glancing at you over his shoulder. Asmo, posing for a camera. Beel, about to bite down on a hamburger.

But the further he goes, the more elaborate the sketches get, and as he flips through the pages, he can feel the amount of work that has gone into each piece

And then he gets to the page where you drew him

Keep it lowkey, but he thinks his heart stopped for a second

He stares at the picture and wonders if that’s what you see every time he shifts into his demon form, because for the first time since his fall, he can’t help but think about how beautiful he looks. Everything looks so right in your art style, from the diamond on his forehead to the way his wings flutter out of his back.

It’s perfection

“I’m confiscating this,” He says quickly, not looking you in the eye.

He then escapes the room faster than you’ve ever seen, and never speaks of the incident again to you

But roughly a week later, you find a small red book on your pillow, and you know that it's a sketchbook from him, to replace the one he took

And even later—after the two of you grow close—you find your old sketchbook stored in his most secure drawer, locked away with a key he keeps hidden. And you know that he’s spent hours looking through the book on rough nights, through the doodles of him and his brothers and everything else you’ve ever drawn

And though he’s too proud to admit it, you know he loves your art

Mammon

He found it when he was going through your stuff, absentmindedly checking to see if you had any valuables on you

And the moment he flipped open to see your little notebook of doodles, his mind went B I N G O

He loves your art the second he sees it, spending a whole hour just sitting on your bedroom floor, flipping through the pages

Adores everything about your art style

And when he starts to see the little doodles you do of his brothers, he’s even more enraptured

You draw all the things he’s imagined but never seen: a sketch of Lucifer dressed in a onesie, snuggling a giant teddy bear. Beel, using a sleeping Belphie as a food tray for a pile of snacks as large as the sixth-born himself. Asmo with cat ears, being chased by Solomon, who appears to be a wolf.

And yet, there are no pictures of Mammon

Man is hurt by the fact that you’ve drawn all his brothers but not him. He’s your first man, after all. You should have been the first person he drew!

Gets a bit upset about it and throws your sketchbook back into the drawer he found it in, stomping back to his room with childlike indignation

Is just a bit petty about it afterward

“Hey, Mammon, can you walk me to school? Class starts in half an hour.”

“Huh? Oh, so now ya want me to do it, huh? Well, why don’t you ask Asmo instead?”

“Okay? I will???”

Soon everyone in the house has realized that Mammon’s being a bit off, and while it was nice at first to have peace and quiet from the resident troublemaker, you guys grow concerned pretty quick

And eventually, you go to his room to talk things out

Let’s just say that when you found out he’d been going through your stuff, you were not pleased. But seeing that he wasn’t going to be the mature one, you sucked it up and whacked the demon on the back of his head, telling him to “wait a second” while you went to “get something”

Cue the retrieval of your second sketchbook

And when Mammon sees it, he’s not sure what he feels more of: guilt or happiness

Every single page in this second notebook is of him. Only a few are colored, but Mammon finds himself enraptured by even the casual doodles in the corners, where he’s doing little things like eating a banana or flashing the viewer a few Grimm

Man is touched. He’s never had anyone do this for him, and certainly not out of their own volition. So suffice it to say that when he tackled you for a hug that night, he didn’t let you go for a long time

And maybe some other stuff happened too. Who knows? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Leviathan

TSL

The second Levi sees you sketching in your artbook (after an incoherent stumble of words which you assume are synonymous with praise), the only phrase coming out of this man’s mouth is TSL

Begins begging you to draw fanart of the Shadow Lord, asking you to sketch him in different outfits, draw him in different poses, put him in various backgrounds, etc.

Basically wants you to bring his imagination to life

“Oh! Oh! Can you draw him baking a cake now? Wouldn’t that be so cool?!”

Absolutely does the wwooooooOOOOOAAAHAHHHHHHH sound effect every single time you show him your work, even if you’ve only made minor changes from the last time you showed him

He takes you on a spending spree, pulling up Akuzon and offering to pay for whatever supplies you want if you’ll just make him a super fancy poster

And so you start

It actually gets to be a pretty good way to grow closer: every day, after school, you head up to Levi’s room to work on the poster he asked you to make him. In exchange, he lets you borrow his manga and you guys watch anime together

Eventually, boi gets the idea of throwing Ruri-chan into the poster, and the second he thinks it he won’t shut up about it

“Oh, come on! You can do it—look, just put her in this little corner right here!”

“How many times do I have to tell you, Levi?! Ruri-chan and the Shadow Lord are two completely different characters who are meant to be drawn in completely different art styles! If I mush Ruri-chan into the corner, it’ll ruin the poster’s dynamic!”

“But pleeeeeaaaassseeeee?”

Cue extra pouty Levi

Eventually, you agree to make a separate drawing of Ruri-chan for Levi to hang up next to the poster, because you think that otherwise, he’ll go crazy

When the date rolls around where you’re almost done with everything, Levi formally sends out an invitation to everyone of importance

Man invites everyone from Luke to Diavolo over for the “revealing ceremony” where he plans to hang the poster on his wall

Actually tried to get the demon king to come as well, but Lucifer stopped him before he could get an invitation out

When everyone sees what you’ve been working on for so many weeks, they’re all MEGA impressed because hello??? they did not know you were this skilled???

It quickly turns into a competition, with each one of them trying to outdo each other with how vigorously they can compliment you

And soon enough you find yourself swamped with requests from every other demon in the room, begging you to make them something as elaborate as you did Levi

Satan

It’s a system you guys have set up, where every Tuesday and Thursday night, you’ll sit in the common room on the couch facing each other and will simply open your books to do what you will

You always draw, and Satan always reads

And neither will bother the other until the grandfather clock chimes twelve times, whereupon you both bid each other goodnight and wait for the next session where you do it all over

Except for today, that is

“What are you drawing?”

Ah, there it is

The one question you were hoping Satan would never ask

You subtly (incredibly awkwardly) change the subject, commenting on the color of Satan’s jacket to distract him from his inquiry, and he picks up on the hint, quietly huffing as he turns back to his book

But the mild irritation he feels doesn’t let him fully delve back into the realm of the nonfiction novel he was reading, so he’s more than a little distracted as he goes back to reading about human anthropology

And it’s in this state of distraction that he notices the little glances you’re stealing every so often, before returning to your sketchpad

Yeah, it doesn’t take long for Satan to put two and two together

“Are you drawing me?”

An incredulous question, asked in such an offending tone

He sounds so irate by the fact that you can’t help but helplessly deny it, muttering something about drawing plants and flowers instead

But Satan doesn’t believe it, and in an instant he’s standing behind you, staring at the sketch in your hands which has oh-so-beautifully captured the essence of him on the couch, engrossed in a book with the light from the flames in the fireplace flickering gently against his skin

The anger at being drawn without having agreed to it quickly melts into a quiet awe for your skill

“Can I see your other drawings?” He asks gently, no longer irritated but actually impressed

“I-I’m not sure if you’ll want to—”

“Nonsense. Show me.”

And so you do

You hand him the sketchbook, avoiding his eyes as he flips to the very first page—and imagine his surprise when he sees that even that is a sketch of his face, though the artwork is significantly less advanced than the piece he just saw. Satan flips to the next page, and then the next, and the next, and sure enough: they’re all of him

“I-I just needed a model to practice my artwork on,” You mumble, gaze fixated on the couch. “And you were right there, so I couldn’t resist...and then I needed a model again. And again. And you were always there, and I know I never asked, but I’m sorry, and if you don’t want me to, I won’t—“

“Nonsense,” Satan murmurs, pressing a finger to your lips. His smile has never looked as sincere as it looks now, his gaze flickering back and forth between your face and the sketchbook in his hands

“I’ll be your model, if you so desire it. Just tell me how you want me to sit.”

Asmodeus

Your model for everything

You’re trying to draw the Hulk and you a good frame of reference? And you need a really muscular model? And Beel ABSOLUTELY fits the bill?

Yeah no, Asmo’s your model

You want to draw a child? Someone small and short, roughly the exact same height as Luke (who is an ANGEL and would absolutely help you)? Yeah no, Asmo’s still going to be your model.

Want a cute guy? Asmo. Cute girl? Asmo. Cute animal? Still Asmo.

Man refuses to leave you alone - the second he learns that you’re an artist he insists on gracing your work with the holy sight of his body

Highkey wants to model nude

And you’d be lying if you said that he was a bad model—man can hold a pose for hours without moving even a little, his only fault is that he talks incessantly—but you can easily quiet him by saying that you’re drawing his lips - and the moment you do so, he’s suddenly he’s stiller than a statue, doing his absolute best to remain frozen so that you can capture his perfection

Boi posts 100% of your content on his Devilgram, and while you were hesitant about it at first, now you’re just used to it

Thanks to him, you’re a lowkey celebrity

Like demons love your art style

It’s apparently very refreshing and human-like as compared to the dark and dreary art found in the Devildom, so people go wild over Asmo’s Devilgram page for it

Man thinks that they’d go even more wild if you drew something where he modeled nude

In fact, it’s lowkey a business deal that the two of you have - you allow Asmo to post your work on his Devilgram (giving credit to you, of course), and in exchange he pays for all your art supplies, acts as your model (though that’s really more of him wanting to than it being your choice), and even goes as far as to keep Mammon apart from you while you work, insisting that you need “privacy” and “quiet” while you draw

100% acts like he isn’t even more chatty than Mammon when given the chance

On the bright side, it’s thanks to these weekly art sessions where you draw and Asmo models and talks that you’re always up to date on the latest gossip. You’re 100% caught up with the fact that Zahhak just found out he has another illegitimate son and that Baphomet just liked Rusalka’s post from fourteen centuries ago

So yeah, the two of you have a mutually beneficial relationship

Asmodeus still insists that one thing would make it better though: him modeling nude

But Asmo is a sweetheart about everything, and he goes out of his way to pamper you

Specifically, your hands—after all, those are what work your artistic magic!

Expect him to always be peppering your dominant hand with kisses, massaging it whenever you look tired, giving you weekly manicures completely free of charge, all out of the goodness of Asmo’s heart

*ahem* and weekly requests to model nude

Beelzebub

a m a z e m e n t

Boi is entranced

Like, he’s so mesmerized by your art that he’s not even paying attention to the food sitting right in front of him, simply opting to stare more intently at the drawing you’re holding up so eagerly

It’s quite beautiful, really: The seven demon brothers surrounding you, a reworking of a photograph Lucifer took a few months ago but in your art style. And for that last fact, Beel thinks he likes this version better

“Wow,” He finally manages to say, still too impressed to really think of anything else

He lets his brothers shower you in praise and compliments, silently nodding along and agreeing with every plaudit they thrust your way

But the moment you’re alone, expect to be scooped into his arms and carried to his room

Boi instantly wants to know the process

When do you draw? How long does it take? Where do you do it? How are you getting your supplies? Who pays?

It’s not so much the physical process he’s interested in, but rather the nuances of art that make your work look so you. He’s not interested in learning for the sake of doing, but simply for the sake of understanding because he already appreciates your art so much

Absolutely invites you to his room to have you show him the art process the next time you start working on a piece

And after the first time, then, he invites you back a second - then a third - and then the two of you have settled into a routine where after school, you come to his room and pencil away in your sketchpad, with Beel watching in the background, munching on snacks

It’s quite relaxing for him, actually

He likes watching as you bring a piece together, going over previously flat areas with a second layer of shading to make certain elements pop—and even if he doesn’t completely understand what you’re doing, he’s entirely willing to learn, listening peacefully as you explain what the various tools do

By the end of the month, man has actually memorized all the names of your supplies, handing them to you every time you ask for it - be it something as simple as a request for an eraser or just the blending stump

Lowkey, your work has actually improved since you began working up in Beel’s room

Not only does he have the most comfortable setup, but the man pampers you like royalty, always making sure that there’s water or food for you in case you need something

(And if you do happen to require something that isn’t already in Beel’s room, man will 100% get it for you so that you don’t have to stop what you’re doing)

Honestly, it’s the perfect arrangement: he gives you the ideal working space and you give him hours upon hours of intrigue

And if you happen to begin sitting in his lap one day while you work, something which quickly turns into a pattern, who’s there to stop anything? ;)

Belphegor

Man naps

A lot

And you just happen to be his favorite pillow, so it’s hardly a surprise when all your free time is spent in the presence of a dozing Belphie, always passed out over your legs

So once, just once, you pull your sketchpad out from under your pillow and work on it, a cautious eye trained on the seventh-born’s every move in case he stirs

And when that first time goes smoothly, you pull your sketchpad out a second time

Then a third

Then a fourth - and suddenly, you’re caught in a pattern

It was really just a matter of time until Belphie woke up one day and you didn’t notice

And it’s already too late when the drowsy demon lifts his head, peering curiously onto your lap to see what you’re working on—much to your horror

“Y-you’re awake,” You mutter halfheartedly, a sick feeling settling in your stomach as you watch the demon’s expression shift as he studies your artwork

You hate it

A bubble of anxiety begins to rise, fear over whether he will like your work or call it bad, whether he’ll make fun of your work or tell the brothers, whether he’ll be kind about it or mean

But then, much to your surprise, he flops back onto your lap, utterly unphased

“Nice,” The demon comments casually, stretching as he rests his head along your thigh. “It’s pretty.”

You can only blink as he falls back asleep, utterly confused as to what just happened

He woke up, right? And he saw your art? And he complimented it, telling you that he thought it was nice and pretty?

A sound of disbelief escapes your mouth as you try to process the utter nonchalance with which the whole exchange had concluded with, your shock only interrupted by the light sound of Belphie, who’s already snoring

You groan

But now that Belphie has seen your work, it’s not like there’s much point in hiding it any longer, right?

You pull your sketchbook out, silently continuing to work on the design that the man napping on your lap had said to be “nice,” adding some finishing touches to it

And when Belphie wakes up, he speaks nothing of the entire exchange

From that point and onward, you become a little more comfortable around him, relieved that you don’t need to talk about it with him

And he gets it

For all your free time, while he naps, you draw, and the two of you find a comfortable form of peace together, an odd tranquility lurking in the fact that there are no questions, no answers, just you and him, the sound of scribbling and snoring, your sketchpad and his pillow

And really, who needs anything else?

Solomon

He’s probably the first one to realize, on his own, that you’re an artist

The two of you have nearly all your classes together, thanks to Lord Diavolo, so it’s hardly surprising when the ever-astute sorcerer picks up on the fact that every time he casts you a second glance, you’re working on some mysterious sketch underneath your desk

Doesn’t really care at first

Until he sees your work

Man actually stops when he picks your sketchbook up off the ground, inspecting the page it had flipped open to after you dropped it

“Holy shit”

Doesn’t even ask for permission, he just begins browsing through the sketchbook, growing more and more impressed with each new page he sees

You only snatch the book back from his hands when you realize that the sketch he’s staring at so intently is one you drew of him, thanking him for picking it up with a huff and awkwardly trying to remove yourself from the situation as fast as humanly (heh, yes that is a pun) possible

Wizard boy stops you, ofc

“Come with me”

“But I have class soon—"

Again, doesn’t even wait for your agreement, man just drags you by the forearm to the library and flips open a book, throws down his own notebook, and demands that you use your “art skills or whatever” to help him

Sigh

Precious wizard boy isn’t very good with words when he’s all worked up

It takes you a good 5 minutes to understand that he wants you to compare the summoning circle outlined on the book with the one he sketched to identify where he went wrong, because apparently you have an “artist’s eye” and therefore you should be able to assist him - and he refuses to believe you when you try to convince him that no, this is not your strong suit and you will likely be unable to help him

He gets whinier than Asmo (probably where he gets it from) and will not stop nagging you even as you try to leave, so eventually you just give in and agree to try to help him - and it wounds up being surprisingly easy for you to realize that he missed the secondary outline of the inner circle, among another few minor mistakes

Huh, maybe you are naturally inclined toward this

From that moment and onward, Solomon decides that you are officially valuable (not only do you have magical potential, but you have an eye for summoning circles too? how UNFAIR) and begins spending all his time with you

Doesn’t really care about the fact that you’re an artist at first—is really more interested in how your skills can be applied

But then one day, after a particularly rough night of going through twelve whole summoning circles for twelve powerful demons, he takes a nap and wakes up to find you passed out on the floor, sleeping on top of your sketchbook where you fell asleep doodling him

Highkey touched

And slowly, he begins casually “falling asleep” around you more often, to see and flip through more of your artwork when he wakes up

Sigh

Bby is fucking shady even when he does wholesome shit

Simeon

Okay let’s be real

There’s no peace with the seven demon brothers. Solomon is chaotic. Luke, as much as we love him, is just a lot to be around. And even with Barbatos next to him, Diavolo is a walking tornado that tends to wreak havoc whenever he wills it (and he usually wills it).

So honestly, being with Simeon is the only place of tranquility you can find in the entire Devildom

Specifically, his room

*Which is off-limits to all the aforementioned individuals

He extended the invitation for you to spend some “relaxation time” in his quarters whenever you pleased at the beginning of the year, his angelic heart already sensing the absolute whirlwind of disaster you were walking into when you joined RAD

And while you declined his offer immediately out of politeness, you found yourself sheepishly knocking on his door not one week into the program

And now it’s become an every-day sort of thing

So yeah

Simeon knows about your art

In fact, you can’t seem to draw unless you’re in his presence, because at this point, he naturally soothes you so much that your hand is only steady when you hear the sound of his calm breathing in the background

In fact, you work best when the two of you are spread out on his couch, your back resting comfortably on Simeon’s shoulder while he writes (yes, he manually writes all his books on pen and paper) and you put your legs up on the couch, sketching away in your notebook

It’s the very image of peace, something you can’t seem to find anywhere else in this realm

And Simeon, bless his heart, may be a master of calligraphy, but the precious angel cannot draw to save his life - a fact which you have taken it upon yourself to handle

See, the angel gets tired every now and then—understandable, given that he produces literal masterpieces at his hands

And so when he gets tired, what does he do?

Make incomprehensible doodles in the upper left corners of his papers

So, of course, you’ve taken it upon yourself to bring those doodles to life (even if it requires a half-hour of inspection before you can make out what the sketch was supposed to be) and Simeon loves it

The expression of eagerness that surfaces every time you inform him that you’ve finished a piece is so rewarding, because the childlike glee with which he takes the paper from your hands to inspect it always sends a rush of warmth to your heart as he gushes in appreciation

But uh

Simeon is a special kind of chaotic, something that manifests every time he doodles something on paper

You stare at the angel in disbelief as he informs you that his latest doodle (what appears to be a banana-looking creature in sunglasses?) was actually a monkey ironing clothes—unsure what to say in light of this information

But it’s okay :) There only needs to be one artist in this relationship, and it clearly isn’t him

Luke

It started with cake

He needed “inspiration” to make something for Barbatos, as a thank-you gift for the pastry lessons the elder gave him, but Luke claimed that everything he made, while it tasted fine, lacked in the aesthetic department

And while normally you would play it Simeon-style, leaving it to the younger angel to handle things on his own so that he can grow individually, you felt too bad watching him discard another batch of cupcakes into Beel’s mouth, rubbing his head in aggravation over how annoying it was that nothing was looking right

So you helped him out

It was nothing major, really

Just eight doodles—subtle yet elegant designs for a triple-tiered cake, childish and bouncy arrangements to store flan, little details in frosting to give cupcakes the added element of specialty that makes them infinitely better

But the second Luke saw your paper, he went wild

Boi was running to the kitchen so fast he barely even had the time to shout “thank you”

Apparently, your little sketches sparked inspiration in him so strongly that the flames burned til midnight (much to Simeon’s disapproval), but when Luke was finally done with everything, he walked out of the kitchen with a tray of desserts that looked so perfect it was hard to imagine that he brought them to life from your sketches

Luke spent ages thanking you, shoving desserts down your throat even when you insisted that you were full, so unimaginably grateful that you helped him out of what he called “chef’s block”

Each “thank you” was accompanied either a brownie or a slice of mango mousse or whatever new pastry Luke was creating that day, and before long you were getting to enjoy luxury foods on the daily (much to Beel’s jealousy)

Boy only believed that the debt was paid when you told him that there was no debt to pay, that you sketched those quick little doodles for him out of kindness and not obligation

Believe it or not, Luke’s eyes actually welled with tears for a second at that, before he wrapped you up in a giant (is it really giant if the hugger is so little?) hug, wailing something about you being too “pure” and “perfect” for the Devildom, and that one day you would be very happy in the Celestial Realm

You pat his head, telling him that if it truly made him this happy, you would be glad to help him out again and sketch some food doodles whenever he wanted some new ideas

Cue another round of hugs, muffled crying, and sobs about how amazing you are

Barbatos

Barbatos knew, of course

Not because he used his powers or anything, he would hardly use them for something so trivial, but he was aware from the start that you were an artist because it was he who prepared for your arrival in the Devildom, ensuring that you had all the same amenities and comforts you were used to in the human realm

And, as such, that included art supplies

So the very moment he set his eyes on you, he was aware that you were an artist

What he didn’t expect was for you to actually be good at it

He sees your sketchbook when he’s casually strolling through the RAD library, finding you completely knocked out on one of the tables, the spiral binding of the sketchpad still digging indents into your cheek where you lie on top of it

At first, the butler rearranges your position as a courtesy

He lifts your head and rests it on your hand - which makes a much softer pillow - coincidentally placing your books back inside your bag and taking a moment to organize the papers strewn across the desk

But then he just happens to glance inside

And the second he does, he’s mesmerized

There’s not much in the world that can surprise Barbatos - not after he’s looked after Diavolo, of all people, for so many millennia - but the butler still finds himself holding his breath as he flips through your sketchpad, each piece telling a story so evocative that it leaves him wanting more even when he arrives at a blank page, abruptly realizing that he’s just gone through your entire sketchbook without your permission

Of course, you just have to wake up at that precise moment - sleepy eyes glancing up at the butler and wondering if you’re hallucinating, but the book in his hands is far too real and the shocked expression on his face is impossibly jarring and you flinch, suddenly feeling self-conscious as you realize what must have happened

Barbatos is a perfect gentleman about it, kindly telling you to get more rest so that you don’t pass out in a public library surrounded by demons who want to eat your soul, but he ends the sharp warning with a rather kind remark about your artwork

“I liked the second-last piece best,” He murmurs, casting you a cryptic smile before bidding you farewell

And obviously, the moment he’s out of sight, your nose is buried in your sketchbook, fingers flipping furiously to find the second-last piece you drew which you cannot seem to remember at all, and—

A flush immediately erupts on your cheeks as you see the colored sketch, something inspired by nothing more than a whim

It’s simply two people on a walk—both of them vague imitations of what your mind had wistfully conjured up—one of them bearing the telltale mismatched hair and olive green eyes, the other sharing a quiet resemblance to yourself - a conscious decision, of course

But just as you’re about to flip off the page, another detail you’d forgotten about draws your attention—and your cheeks suddenly burn in embarrassment as you realize why Barbatos singled this piece out

The figures are smiling, gazing at each other from the corners of their eyes. And there, in the very center of the piece, it is obvious:

They are holding hands

Diavolo

RIP to Diavolo’s royal painter

They have been replaced

By you

As much as you fought it, as much as you argued that you were not fitting of this position, as much as you pleaded with the demon lord to not force this title upon your shoulders, Diavolo’s decision to appoint you as the honorary Devildom painter was final—and nothing can change his mind once it’s made up

The title is really just that: a title. Diavolo knows that you’re a busy student, and while he honored your artistic talents with this position, he’s not about to actually force you through the expected proceedings of a true royal painter, not while you’re trying to survive being an exchange student in hell with an entirely unfamiliar curriculum in front of you

But on occasion, he’ll send you a text, asking if you’re free

And you’ll head on over to his palace, ready to paint him

And unlike every other demon, angel, and human in the Devildom, when Diavolo models for you, he actually models nude

Asmo is jealous

Sexual tension is high when you paint him, let’s just leave things at that

And honestly, it really doesn’t matter what you paint - Diavolo seems to be more interested in the fact that it’s a human who did the art in the first place

He once saw your RAD binder, noticing the little doodles you’d drawn on the corner of all your papers, and he immediately took them—declaring that they were art to be preserved for all eternity for historical documentation purposes

So yeah

There’s a hall in Diavolo’s palace filled with your RAD math homework, an eternal reminder of the assignments you copied off of Solomon

(You’re not sure what’s more embarrassing: the fact that you’ve drawn some rather inappropriate doodles on those pages or the fact that, despite having copied all the answers, you still managed to get nearly one-third of the problems wrong, and now your mistakes are to be showcased in the Devildom for centuries to come)

It gets to the point where you and Solomon start making bets over how basic you can get with your art for Diavolo to still consider it “amazing” and “utterly awe-inspiring,” as he likes to put it

In honor of that bet, there is currently a banana peel with a few marker doodles on it hanging in a preserved case in an iced room in the lowest levels of the palace, as none of the “art” can be wasted

But in truth, the demon lord’s fixation with human culture is endearing, especially when Diavolo tries so hard to be accepting of it

So eventually you stop giving Diavolo wacky art and actually start putting your full effort into your creations—your reward being the fact that the final piece you complete gets hung in Diavolo’s private bedroom, where he promises to gaze at it every night for the rest of eternity, vowing to remember his time with you every time he sees it

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renjuseyo · 3 years

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Can I request a Mingyu x male reader where Mingyu is a jock and is attracted to a nerd. He wants to ask him to become his valentine but is always interrupted by his admirers. Eventually Mingyu catches him in the library alone and asks him to be his forever valentine.

answer ; mingyu

group: seventeen

pairing: kim mingyu / reader (male)

synopsis: the three times mingyu tried confessing to you and the one time he succeeds.

genre: fluff

after weeks of exams and projects, writer’s block, and a day of crying because of chemistry, i have finally finished this!! i didn’t think it would be this long, but i still hope it’s a good read :’) i hope you enjoyed anon, and as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!!

the first time mingyu tried confessing to you, three of his admirers ruined it.

well, ruined might be too harsh of a word, considering that those girls haven’t done anything wrong to him. disrupted would probably suffice.

with the labels high school enforces on people, mingyu would be categorized as a jock, seeing how he’s already on the varsity football team despite being a first year. unlike the stereotypical high school jock, though, he’s a nice guy who treats everyone equally. sure, he’s a bit clumsy, but he means well and thinks he has an exceptionally good heart. nothing like the jerks on television that shove people into lockers for fun.

but apparently life imitates art, because like on television, the jocks are loved by nearly everyone at their school and are constantly surrounded by swarms of admirers. while he’s always flattered receiving love letters, he can only guiltily return them with a heavy heart. they’re all great people, but he just happens to have his eyes set on someone else.

like a romantic slice of life drama, mingyu finds himself head over heels for you, the not-so-stereotypical nerd. the jock, in love with the nerd? no one is surprised. contrary to popular belief, you’re unafraid of speaking your mind, especially to jerks that live in the stereotypical high school trope. you’ve always voiced your dislike for the connotations being labeled as a nerd brings along. like, why should nerds expect to get bullied, much less for wanting to stay on top of their work? society is weird.

the day he saw you kick some jerk from the soccer team in the shins for pestering a girl to doing his homework, mingyu thinks he fell in love at first sight.

he’s also arguably the least subtle person... ever, and all of his friends tease him for it. (name) asks mingyu to duck down a bit so he can see the board? dokyeom spends the rest of class sending him atrociously drawn doodles of them kissing. (name) walks past mingyu in the hallway? jeonghan sends him a knowing look, wiggling his eyebrows. needless to say, his first year of high school was spent being relentlessly teased.

now, mingyu has always been a straightforward guy who’s pretty bad at keeping secrets. which is why now that he has these feelings in him, he wants nothing more than to put it out to the world. he had spent several days planning out ways to confess to you, and what better day to do it than on valentine’s’ day? it’s fitting for someone who swoons over chance encounters at the park and confessions in the rain like mingyu.

of course, things aren’t as simple on his part, because even as a first year, he was exceptionally popular, admirers drawn towards him like a moth to a light. whatever the reason, he was quite popular, though he didn’t mind. more attention means more friends, and mingyu loves making new friends!

inevitably enough, these admirers turn out to be the downfall of his plan.

fast forward to one year of pining, and it’s now valentine’s’ day. because you only share two classes with him, mingyu’s chances of getting you to himself are slim, especially since you two don’t belong in the same friend group. for things to go smoothly, he needs to simply get you by yourself and confess. a simple plan for a simple man... how hard can it be?

(the answer is very. not only are there external obstacles in his way, but even if things did go smoothly, the confidence he has quickly dissipates when he sees you. it’s not his fault he gets tongue-tied around cute boys like you!)

as his day progresses, mingyu’s nerves become increasingly noticeable. even dokyeom, who’s usually the last to put two and two together, asked if he was alright. he tries not to pay attention to that though, but the stream of admirers flitting towards him are constant reminders that today is valentine’s’ day, and valentine’s’ day means he’s planning on confessing to you.

his final class of the day is math, one he shares with you. he doesn’t even pay attention to the material, because he’s too busy staring at you, who sits right in front of him. if he’s not listening, he might as well come up with an excuse to talk to you, right? so that he does, timidly tapping your shoulder. you crane your neck to look at him, and suddenly all rational thought leaves his head. what was he thinking, trying to strike a conversation while you’re obviously trying to learn?

“do you need something?” you whisper, eyes flitting from the board to him.

he doesn’t have time to come up with a good excuse, so he comes up with the oldest one in the book. “i-i was wondering if i could borrow a pencil?” he whispers.

apparently even the oldest one is the most unreliable, because then you both simultaneously look down at his desk, and he mentally slaps himself in horror. he must look like some idiot, asking for a pencil when he has a functioning one on his table. you raise an eyebrow in silent question and scan him before turning around. he’s prepared for you to ignore him and focus on the lesson like he should be.

but instead, you turn back around with a mechanical pencil in hand. “don’t forget to give it back after class,” you remind him, handing it to him. he quietly thanks you, and when he reaches for it, his fingers graze your palm.

(mingyu is screaming. mentally, of course.)

after that, class is fairly mundane. he decides to refocus on his work, occasionally sneaking glances your way.

an hour flies by, and he isn’t even aware that class has ended until you tap his shoulder. when he blinks back to reality, he sees you looking down at him expectantly. “oh! right! pencil.” he flushes in embarrassment as he scrambles to hand it back to you. he must really look like a bumbling fool.

thankfully, if you want to laugh, you don’t. he drops the pencil in your hands. “thanks.”

mingyu sees you turn your heel and realizes this is his last opportunity, seeing how he already wimped out once during physics. “wait!” he exclaims.

you turn around with a raised brow. “yes?”

it’s now or never, he supposes. now is not the time for being nervous! he tells himself. after taking a deep breath, he looks at your curious eyes. “i was wondering-”

“mingyu~!”

he can already see his opportunity flying out the window.

when mingyu turns to face the source of the voice, he’s met with three unfamiliar girls. judging from the box of chocolates in their hands, he can already guess what’s to come.

“i said his name first!” a girl with a ponytail exclaims. another girl with glasses and another with a short bob refute her claims, arguing about who called him first.

he frantically glances from the three girls to you, who’s looking unimpressed. “how can i help you three?” he nervously laughs. he needs to make this quick before you run away.

the three girls simultaneously turn to face him and thrust their boxes into his hands. “please accept my confession!” they exclaim in unison. they move so in sync that the thought of them being each others’ rivals wouldn’t have even crossed his mind.

“i’m flattered- i really am, but-”

“well,” you begin, cutting him off. “i’m going to go now. we can always talk about whatever you wanted to say another time.”

before mingyu can stop you, you trail back towards your friends who are waiting by the doorway. he can feel a dreadful feeling pooling in his stomach. eventually he turns to face the three girls who are oblivious to his turmoil. “i’m flattered, i really am, but i can’t accept this,” he gets out as quickly as possible. you haven’t left the building yet, so there’s still time to catch up to you.

as he scrambles to throw his belongings into his backpack, the girl with the short bob intercepts him, blocking his way out. “you can’t just leave us with that curt of an answer!” she exclaims, propping both hands on her hips.

he supposes not, unless he wants to be treated like an asshole. the girl with the ponytail and the girl with glasses are staring at him with curious eyes. at least they’re taking his rejection well... for now. “i have my eyes set on someone else right now,” he explains. “i’m sorry, i really am. but you three seem like really cool people.”

“it’s okay,” the girl with glasses softly tells him. “sorry for jumping in out of anywhere and expecting you to just accept.” she sends him a comforting smile, which softens his nerves a bit. “i hope things are well with the person you like.” the girl with the ponytail nods in agreement, though the girl with the short bob is turned away from him. she’s probably not too happy about the outcome of things.

mingyu sends them a grateful smile. “thank you, and i really mean it. i’m sorry about this!” he apologizes once again, slinging his backpack across his back. he doesn’t wait for a response, because he dashes out of the classroom, looking for you.

he runs down the hallways and asks some classmates if they’ve seen you, but no one has. it’s not until he encounters jinyoung, his upperclassman and one of your friends, that he learns you’ve already left campus with your friends.

mingyu spends the rest of valentine’s’ day at dokyeom’s house playing basketball and stuffing himself full with food. while it is a lot better than being home all alone and sad, he sure is disappointed with the outcome of things.

the second time mingyu tried confessing to you, he questioned just how deep he’d fallen.

you and mingyu are now in your second year of high school. before he knows it, a year has flew by, and it’s valentine’s’ day once again.

his friends often ask why he spent another year waiting to confess again, considering how he’s had several other months to ask. but kim mingyu hasn’t successfully done anything unless he’s done it with passion and meaning, which means he can’t confess unless it’s on a special day suitable for the occasion. and what better occasion to confess his feelings than on valentine’s’ day? despite his purest intentions, though, his friends still tease him for being the hopeless romantic that he is.

to his dismay, he doesn’t share any classes with you this year, meaning his chances of getting you to himself have become even slimmer. but mingyu won’t give up without giving it a shot, so he formulates yet another plan! being simple wasn’t enough, so he’s upped his game by carrying chocolates and everything. really wants to show he wants to talk to you about not-so-platonic things.

the football team has just wrapped up practice for the night. mingyu’s currently by the bleachers drinking his water bottle when he feels someone tap his shoulder. he turns around to face jungkook, one of his friends and a fellow member of the team. “your little boy toy’s here,” he tells him.

he raises a sweaty brow, recapping his drink. “boy toy?” jungkook points at the top row of the bleachers. his eyes trail towards the top and is pleasantly surprised to see you deeply immersed in a conversation with an unfamiliar boy who appears half-korean and with seungkwan, a notorious first year from the debate club. perhaps the fates have decided to take pity on him. he had looked for you during lunch, only to fail and skip out on his meal. maybe this is their way of apologizing to him.

he notices his friend’s smug grin, which he responds with by glaring at him. “he’s not my boy toy. plus, what do you know? i don’t even tell you about my life.”

he innocently hums, placing his gatorate on the bleachers. “i have eyes, mingyu. from all the times he comes here to hang out with his friends, you give him your heart eyes. it’s kind of sickening.”

mingyu flushes in embarrassment, spluttering. “shut up! at least i’m not as gross as you and taehyung-hyung!” he shouts. jungkook merely responds by sticking out his tongue, sauntering towards the pathway connecting the football field and the storage room.

when he turns to glance at you, he doesn’t expect to see you staring back at him. it only lasts for a few seconds, but seeing your curious eyes on him, the faint light of the light post reflecting onto them, makes his heart do a flip. your gaze is quickly broken when the half-korean boy taps your shoulder, and you go back to picking up your belongings, prepared to leave the field.

the brief eye contact you two made reminds him of the chocolate rose in his backpack. it’s valentine’s’ day, which practically calls for roses, and as they say, the best way to someone’s heart is through their stomach! it had been bought not long before practice began, and from the cold breeze that laps against his face, he doesn’t need to worry about it melting.

the loud creaking of the bleachers pulls him out of his head, and he realizes you and your friends are prepared to leave. having to act fast, he speed walks towards his backpack slumped against the rails. the footsteps get louder as he rummages through his backpack, and after what seems like forever, his fingers graze the box. he whips it out and nervously glances at you, who just stepped off the bleachers.

you both make eye contact again. it’s brief, but once again, mingyu gets distracted by the way your eyes shimmer and the way your hair dances in the wind. he’s always gotten distracted too easily. it’s only when seungkwan begins humming to a familiar wonder girls song that he’s snapped out of his trance and realizes you’re seconds away from slipping away again. he can’t let that happen, not after the universe has gifted you to him.

but just as the fates pity him, they also have a vendetta against him, because right before he can take a step towards you, someone taps his shoulder. when he turns around, he sees wooyoung, a boy from his history class. other then the times they’ve borrowed pencils from each other, he’s never really talked to him. judging from the letter he nervously clutches in his hands, he deduces that he’s here like the other string of admirers, too.

“hi mingyu,” wooyoung greets. he gives him a weak smile, because now he can only helplessly watch as you walk away with your friends. another missed opportunity.

“hi wooyoung,” he responds. “what brings you here?”

he gulps, fingers drumming against the paper. “well, i thought it was kind of obvious.”

well, he does have a point. he turns to give him his full attention. it looks like he’ll have to wait another time to talk to you, anyways. “i mean, won’t know for sure unless i ask, right?”

“i guess...” he nervously hands mingyu the letter, hands trembling. “happy valentine’s’ day, mingyu. can you perhaps read my letter?” he nods, fingers making quick work of the heart-shaped sticker stuck onto it when he grabs his arm, stopping him. mingyu looks up in surprise and sees a very embarrassed wooyoung. “can you... read this in private? so i don’t have to see you react to my very embarrassing letter?” he quietly requests.

wooyoung deserves that much, anyways, especially if mingyu’s just going to reject him in the end. “sure,” he tells him with a smile. “do you want a response after i read it?”

the way wooyoung smiles makes mingyu feel like he knows something he shouldn’t know, like his hopeless crush on you. he waves a dismissive hand. “it’s okay, i can already tell you have eyes on someone else.”

mingyu’s jaw drops. “how- how did you know?”

he rolls his eyes. “you don’t go carrying around chocolate roses for fun, do you?”

well, he certainly forgot about that. at the mention of the rose, he hides it behind his back, eliciting a laugh from wooyoung. “it’s okay. i think you’re a really fun guy, mingyu, and i’d love to go out with you, but i get if you can’t accept my feelings. being friends- well, people who borrow pencils from each other- is good enough, too.”

guilt creeps into his skin; wooyoung really does seem like a good guy, but for some reason, mingyu can’t get his mind off of you. he doesn’t know you well enough to justify staying attached; you treat him like a classmate at most, always so polite and blunt, unlike the mischievous and giggly version of you when you’re with your friends. he could try things with wooyoung, because he really does seem like a good guy. yet he can’t bring himself to think of someone else in a romantic light that isn’t you.

“i’ll gladly read your letter, wooyoung, but i think you know my answer already. i’m really sorry,” he softly apologizes.

wooyoung shrugs, though there’s obvious disappointment in his eyes. “it’s okay. hope this doesn’t change anything between us. also, unless you’re accepting my feelings, let’s never talk about this letter again, alright? it’s super cheesy, and i’d rather not remember it again,” he laughs.

“alright.”

with that, he waves mingyu a farewell, and walks away from the football field.

there’s no use for the chocolate rose anymore, so mingyu eats it as he walks home.

the third time mingyu tried confessing to you, the universe taunted him by only giving him a sliver of what he truly wanted.

in mingyu’s final year of high school, it seems that the universe has finally listened to his silent prayers and granted him a chance of getting closer to you, because he miraculously finds out that both of you share nearly all of your classes together. he even does a victory dance upon learning this.

because of how often you two see each other, even being seated beside each other in several classes, he finally decides to take the initiative to befriend you. his friends have spent two years teasing him for only watching from afar, and he’s determined to prove them wrong! so a month after everyone has assimilated into their new routines, he approaches you some time during psychology and bluntly asks you if you can be friends. this garners snickers from dokyeom and their new friend minghao, especially when you bluntly turn him down.

(well, you didn’t quite shoot down his offer. you simply told him you had to get to know him better before you could conclude anything. he was quite eager to prove to you why you should be his friend.

...and something more, but he hasn’t quite mustered up the courage to get there.)

so after several weeks of initiating conversations, mingyu finds himself miraculously getting closer to you. your quiet, studious facade was quick to come down, particularly when you couldn’t stifle your laughter whenever he did something embarrassing. but he thinks it’s completely worth it, especially when you look so cute giggling like that. now he can confidently say he’s moved a step further in his world.

as it is now your final year of high school, he’s even more determined to confess to you, especially after getting to know you. he now knows what you like and dislike, so coming up with another plan that hopefully doesn’t fall apart on its head should go smoothly. sure, you’ve expressed your disdain for valentine’s’ day for being a corporate holiday, but he knows you’re only bitter because you’ve never received any gifts or confessions. which strikes him as odd, especially when you deserve all of the gifts and confessions the holiday could offer.

(though mingyu hopes you won’t actually accept any that aren’t his.)

yet another year has passed, and before he knows it, it’s valentine’s’ day again. even after two failed attempts, he’s still determined to make this holiday memorable for both you and him, which he plans on doing after school. after all, what could possibly be more romantic than a confession on valentine’s’ day?

then again, being assigned cleaning duty and sweeping the classroom floors isn’t quite romantic. he supposes it’s more tolerable because you’re here with him, standing on your tip-toes as you erase the remnants of the teacher’s writing off the whiteboard. he knows he should be helping you if he wants to leave as soon as possible, but watching you strain to reach the corner is so adorable. you really have no clue what you do to his heart.

it seems you notice this, too, glancing behind you. “are you just going to watch me struggle?” you ask, bringing your arm back down.

“it’s amusing, watching you struggle,” mingyu responds with a cheeky smirk.

you fold your arms, giving him your most threatening glare. “i apologize, not all of us have abnormally tall bodies like you,” you glower.

“six feet is not abnormal, my dear. you’re just short.”

“i’m only a few centimetres shorter than seungkwan?!”

mingyu shrugs. “seungkwan’s short. if you’re shorter than him, you’re like... an ant.”

you throw up your hands in exasperation. “i give up. you’re the worst.”

he laughs, propping his broom against a table. he walks up to you, and he’s keenly aware of how short you are. truthfully, you aren’t even that short, but with his bulk, he towers over you. you notice this too, expression souring. “let me help you out there, buddy,” he offers. he grabs the eraser of the whiteboard, easily erasing the parts you couldn’t reach. “see? all done.”

“show-off.”

mingyu’s about to laugh and retaliate, but when he looks at you all thoughts leave his mind. he wasn’t aware of how close you two were until he sees your back pressed against the whiteboard, slightly arched. his arms are barricading you, still outstretched to erase the parts you missed. you’re looking up at him with your nonchalant stare as always, but for some reason, he feels himself getting weak. maybe it’s the height difference, or the fact that he could swoop down and kiss you at any moment. whatever it is, it makes him dizzy.

his rationality flies out the window the moment he asks, “would you be mad if i kissed you here?”

you splutter in surprise, eyes widening and mouth hanging open. he’s never seen you this flustered before, not even at the news of a pop quiz. he didn’t think it was possible, but you seem to be getting smaller.

he really could kiss you there and then. he doesn’t see a reason not to, anyways, not when you flush under his gaze.

but of course, mingyu can never seem to get what he wants, because before you can respond, the door flies open. he swears he’s never jumped away so fast. you both turn to face the source of the sound, and there stands yejin, one of your underclassmen. she looks awfully flushed, like she ran a marathon. “mingyu-oppa, i’ve looked everywhere for you! i need your help with something!” she exclaims.

“oh, sure...” he looks back down at you, who’s still recovering from his question. “can you wait up for me after this? i have something i need to do,” he explains.

you give him an apologetic smile. “sorry mingyu, i have to help my parents with something tonight. maybe tomorrow?” you ask.

great. just perfect! oh how he wants to scream at the universe there and then, but he wouldn’t want to weird you or yejin out. instead, he forces a smile. “oh, never mind then. do you want me to erase the rest of the board?”

you shake your head, pointing your chin towards yejin. “no, go see what she wants. i’ll handle the rest, then i’ll be out of your hair.” a part of him wants to tease your height again, knowing you’d struggle to erase the uppermost parts, but then he hears her clear her throat behind him and instead leans in to ruffle your hair. you hate it when he does it, but for the first time since he’s befriended you, you don’t complain.

mingyu walks out of the classroom and leans against a wall, facing yejin. “what did you need help with?” he asks.

she looks like she nearly forgot she asked for assistance, flushing in embarrassment. “oh, actually...” from the way she guiltily looks away, his suspicions of her true intentions strengthen. “i-i wanted to... tell you something,” she sheepishly mutters. rummaging through her book bag, she produces a small, heart-shaped box. “happy valentine’s’ day. will you accept my chocolates?”

he catches a glimpse of a note wedged between the shiny ribbon. he looks at her with a raised eyebrow, and judging from her bashful look, he can only assume it’s another love letter. he can only give her a guilty smile, fingers swiping the pink wrapper. “i’m really flattered, yejin, but i’m afraid i can’t accept this.” his heart tugs when her smile falls from her face. no matter how guilty he feels, though, he simply can’t get rid of the feelings he has for you. “it’s just i have my eyes on someone else right now. i’m sorry.”

mingyu’s heart sinks even further when yejin smiles again, though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes like earlier. “oh, is that so?” she reluctantly grabs the box, expression souring. “you don’t need to apologize, oppa. i get it, and it’s not your fault.” she shrugs, though he can clearly see the sad, disappointed look in her eyes. “i mean, i doubt you’d want to date anyone a year younger, especially not when you’re about to graduate, too.”

he furrows his eyebrows and shakes his head. “i promise you, yejin, i have no problem with dating people younger than me. it’s just...” his thoughts drift off to you, who enters his mind with such clarity; he wonders how many times he’s thought of you for you to appear so clearly in his head. “i’ve really liked this person for a while now, and i don’t plan on backing down just yet. again, i’m really sorry.”

she nods in understanding, though her disappointment doesn’t lessen. “i see.” she throws the box into her book bag so hastily, as if she never produced it in the first place. “well, as much as i would’ve liked you to reciprocate my feelings, i’m not going to force you to ignore your feelings. i hope things go well between you two.”

he thanks her before they leave their separate ways. despite having rejected several people since he’s laid eyes on you, it never gets easier. it’s not his fault his heart and mind always run back to you, though. he’s fallen too deeply to get back up, anyways.

aside from finals, there are no major events that happen after valentine’s’ day. you and mingyu go about your life as usual, and before you two know it, you’re graduating high school, leaving with the memories of your youth.

even during the graduation party, you and mingyu never bring up his comment again.

“you’re telling me it’s been three years, and you’ve failed all three times?” jeonghan snorts, stirring his straw.

dokyeom shakes his head in sympathy. “absolutely pitiful. i don’t understand how you still do it.”

mingyu shoots him a glare, threateningly pointing his plastic spoon at him. “be quiet. you just don’t understand what it’s like, being in love,” he answers before scooping a dollop of frozen yogurt into his mouth.

they both look at each other, matching smirks on their faces. he still thinks it’s terrifying how similar they are; perhaps letting jeonghan take dokyeom under his wing was a bad idea. “pulling out the l-word, aren’t we?” jeonghan hums.

“what are you, seven? love is a perfectly normal word,” he retorts.

the older defensively shrugs. “i’m just saying. all of us thought this was just going to be another crush, since you tend to gravitate towards cute people and move on in a month. it’s just crazy to see how you already know you’re in love with him despite only befriending him last year.”

now that he puts it that way, mingyu supposes he has a point. he used to have quick, meaningless crushes on attractive boys and girls. those feelings faded as quick as they came, seeing how he only knew them from afar, liking them without getting to know them. it would’ve been the same for him, too, had he not gone out of his way to befriend you. now that he knows who you really are, he doesn’t know how to love anyone that isn’t you. how can he? you occupy his mind with your poetic words, your sharp intellect, the way you cover your face when you laugh... as cheesy as it is, the small crush from freshmen year has grown into something much bigger for his body. perhaps big enough for him to pull out the l-word.

it’s been three years since he laid eyes on you. even when he’s in university, marking a new page in his life, he hasn’t quite left behind the hopeless love of high school.

he’s snapped out of his thoughts when dokyeom leans forward to steal a dollop of frozen yogurt from him. he doesn’t have time to stop him before he triumphantly shoves the spoon in his mouth. “do you have any big plans for confessing this time? i don’t know about you, but valentine’s’ day just doesn’t seem to be your lucky day,” he hums.

he glares at him, defensively pulling the cup of frozen yogurt closer to him. “be quiet. if i’m going to confess to (name), it has to be done in the most romantic way possible.”

jeonghan quirks an eyebrow. “why would you choose just one day out of 365 to make a plan that might not even work? from all the stories i heard from dokyeom, you seem to have the worst luck when it comes to valentine’s’ day. especially because the chances of being interrupted by your admirers increases tenfold.”

mingyu chooses to ignore his wise words, opting to glare at dokyeom. “you told him about that?”

“i would’ve found out eventually.” jeonghan has always had a scary knack at finding out people’s secrets, even from those that are impossible to read. “as i was saying. sure, come up with an extravagant plan and everything. sweep him off his feet! but you don’t have to do it on valentine’s’ day. if you’re so adamant about doing it on a special holiday, there are several to choose from. though honestly, i think you should just go for it no matter the day. because if things go south, that holiday’s just going to bring back bad memories.”

“why would you jinx me like that!” he whines.

“i’m not trying to. i’m just saying~”

mingyu pouts, swirling his spoon in his cup. “i guess you have a point... but i haven’t even seen (name) in a while, which will make things harder.”

before anyone can say anything, he notices jeonghan and dokyeom look up, their expressions souring. when he turns his head, he notices a trio of girls briskly walking towards him. “well, just think about it, okay? dokyeom and i are going to go now before we’re bombarded by your admirers.” he says admirers with such mockery that dokyeom cackles. “catch you later!”

he watches as his friends collect their belongings and leave the store. he’s left alone as he turns to face the girls, politely smiling. judging from the bashful looks on their faces, he can only guess what they’re here for - it’s not even valentine’s’ day yet, either. if he’s being honest, a new confession only reminds him of his three botched ones. it’s no one’s fault, really - emotions are a tricky thing. but there are only so many botched attempts he can take, especially when they ruin his methodically thought out plans.

well, it’s not like mingyu can run out of the store like his friends did. so he readjusts his seat, mustering his sweetest smile. “is there something you need?”

mingyu’s perched at a desk in the campus library one afternoon, typing an essay for his economics class as he plays a study playlist. he’s so absorbed with his work that he doesn’t notice the figure walking towards him. they tap his shoulder, eliciting a surprised yelp from him. luckily, the library is particularly empty, but those that are in there don’t hesitate to shush him. “sorry,” he apologizes.

he turns around to face his perpetrator and is pleasantly surprised to see you. you two hadn’t seen each other in weeks, both of you having been busy with projects and upcoming exams. “hey,” you whisper. “sorry for scaring you.”

he pauses his playlist and smiles. unlike the ones he’s faked around his admirers, this is one of genuine, evident in the way his smile reaches his eyes and how it brightens. “it’s okay. i haven’t seen you in a while.”

“yeah, sorry i disappeared. i was busy with homework,” you whisper, pulling out a chair beside him. mingyu pretends his heart doesn’t flip when you sit beside him, perching an arm on his shoulder. “how have you been? still terrorizing people?”

he rolls his eyes, though the corners of his lips lift up. “you make me sound like a menace. the only person i bully is you... well, and seungkwan.”

“you say it so casually like it isn’t a bad thing,” you snort.

he hums, moving his finger to tap your nose. you make a disgruntled noise, annoyed at the sudden motion, but to him, you look more adorable than frustrated. “short people have no rights.”

mingyu had originally gone to the library to focus on his work, since staying at his noisy dorm room wasn’t getting him anywhere. but now he’s here, talking to you like he doesn’t have a paper due in two days. if you ever found out he prioritized you instead of school, he would never hear the end of it. maybe he should take your advice and be studious for once.

but then you roll your eyes, lips threatening to smile as you shake your head. “tall people don’t deserve rights. or kneecaps, for that matter,” you retort.

perhaps his assignment can wait.

you both have touched on several topics, though you spend a good chunk of time catching up on each others’ lives. he’s just finished telling you a story about how jungkook nearly burned their kitchen down when someone clears their throat behind you two. it’s the librarian, looking at you two expectantly. “we’re about to close, gentlemen. if you need to check out any books, now is a good time. please don’t forget to take your belongings.”

mingyu glances at his watch and is surprised to see it’s already 4:55, five minutes before the library closes. how long has he spent talking to you, he wonders? “right! sorry for the bother,” he apologizes, scrambling to put his things away.

“i’ll give you two five more minutes to ready your things. please make sure to clean up after yourselves, too.” with that, she turns on her heel and walks out of the library.

you sling your backpack over your shoulder and give him a mock salute. “well, it was nice talking to you today. we should hang out again sometimes.”

mingyu doesn’t realize that you’re walking away again - both metaphorically and realistically - until he hears the chair being pushed in. you turn your back on him, and suddenly he hears the small voice in his head urging him to hold you back. sunlight slips through the window, a reminder that it’s only early october, not february. “wait!” he exclaims.

you pause to face him. “yeah?”

he didn’t plan on making a confession to you, nor did he even plan on seeing you today. but the fates have a funny way of doing things, he supposes. in the fight against his pride and his friends’ words, it seems the latter has won, evident by the way his heart is directing his actions. apparently his brain has no plans of cooperating with him today, because then he blurts, “i’ve liked you since we were high school freshmen, and i really want to date you!”

a pause.

right after the words are out of his mouth, mingyu begins going through the five stages of regret. because there was no plan to start with, he had no time to ponder the different reactions he could get, meaning he has no idea what’s to come. kim mingyu, you absolute clown! what the hell was that for?! he’s mortified with how abrupt and unexpected his confession was, and he can already imagine the several ways you’ll turn him down. how ironic is it, that he was so confident with his confessions when he barely knew you. now that he’s arguably one of your best friends, all of that confidence has faded away.

mustering up all the courage in him, he timidly looks you in the eye. from the way you’re frozen, eyes wide in surprise, he’s prepared to brush his whole confession as a joke. at least he can prepare a better way of confessing, anyways. after what seems like forever on his part, you slowly nod. “oh.”

this is it. this is the end of everything. he’s analyzing the various ways your oh could mean, and so far, most of it means rejection for him.

but then you walk up to him, so close that he can no longer avoid your gaze. here comes the rejection that stupid high school me never took to account! you tease him for everything he does, what makes you think he’ll readily accept?!

“kim mingyu,” you whisper. he’s quickly pulled out of his head, looking down to meet your gaze. your surprised look from earlier is replaced with a nonchalant one. it’s eerily calm, and it scares him. “i can hear your thoughts.” before mingyu can apologize, you pat his arms. “i mean, i kind of already knew.”

maybe the universe really does have a personal agenda against him.

“you- wait- you knew- you knew that-” snapped out of his frozen trance, he begins to wildly move his arms as if he were malfunctioning. “that i-” he raises both of his eyebrows to emphasize his hidden meaning, and luckily you’re able to put two and two together, nodding. “that i liked-”

“yeah. i mean, unless you tell all of your friends that you want to kiss them while pinning them against the whiteboard? because if so, i take it back,” you reply with a teasing smirk.

well, this certainly has reached a new level of embarrassing. mingyu certainly didn’t expect you to remember that incident, and from the two years he’s known you, he had wholeheartedly expected you to be the type of person who’s bad at dealing with feelings.

but then again, you’ve never quite fit into any stereotypes that society labels you. for a “nerd”, subtle has never been in your vocabulary.

before he can even panic, you lean forward and reassuringly pat his arm. “don’t worry. as insufferable as you are, i like you, too.”

hearing your answer feels unreal. those are the words he hears in his dreams, not something he’d expect to hear in the campus library. he must look nothing short of shell-shocked, because you laugh, spinning on your heel. “your height jokes are nothing short of annoying, but you’re someone i admire, kim mingyu. there’s something about you that’s simultaneously frustrating yet attractive.”

you’ve never been good at complimenting people, so with a compliment always comes an insult, though mingyu doesn’t mind. he knows you say them with good intentions, anyways. “you think i’m attractive?” he asks, beaming.

your calm, nonchalant expression is replaced with one of annoyance and you turn so he can’t see you. even so, he can tell you’re embarrassed. “i meant attractive as in magnetic. but i’m not blind, kim mingyu. you’re undoubtedly one of the most handsome guys i know, and you also have a good personality. what other word was i supposed to use?”

seeing you look away suddenly boosts his ego, and his heart feels full from how cute you look. with newfound confidence, he strides towards you, unable to contain the smile that spreads across his face. “for a cutie who always insults me, i’m just surprised you’d find me attractive. maybe my charm has finally rubbed off on you?”

you playfully shove him away from you. “did you not hear the part where i called you insufferable?”

mingyu doesn’t even care. he’s too giddy, knowing his three years of pining were not all for naught. “i have selective hearing. i only hear the positives in life.”

“you’re so annoying,” you groan, though he can see the corners of your lips threatening to lift up. “i’m out of here. good talk.”

for what seems to be the hundredth time today, he stops you from leaving, though this time he gently grabs your wrist. “you’re just going to leave like that?” what an anti-climatic confession. freshmen him would’ve cried.

you turn around, glancing at his hand around your wrist. “what else is there to say?”

seeing how you’ve reverted back to your calm expression, mingyu pouts. “well... will you...” as he stumbles over his words, he’s suddenly reminded of a letter he wrote to you in his second year of high school. since his botched confession that year, he had never touched the letter again, though he recalls it’s tucked in a box of memorabilia somewhere in his room. while his long, mundane confession remains a blur, there’s one line he recalls writing.

he knows you’ll tease him after this, but after waiting for three years, a simple will you be my boyfriend doesn’t seem fitting anymore. “will you be my forever valentine?” he whispers. his voice is impossibly quiet, as if he were embarrassed of saying them out loud.

the room is filled with a stunned silence, and he feels the tips of his ears burning; oh how the tables have turned. he’s bracing himself for teasing on your end, but instead, you gently hook your fingers together. it takes everything in him to not melt into a puddle there and then. “forever’s such an unrealistic concept though,” you whisper back.

he’s about to take back his words when you send him a reassuring smile. it both fills his stomach with butterflies and stills his nerves. “but then again, we’ve always liked taking on the impossible, right?” you ask.

you and mingyu have always loved challenges, even if it led to a meaningless end. just one of the many traits that brought you two together. “yeah,” he softly answers. his heart is still beating impossibly fast from your touch, but at least he doesn’t plan on melting... yet. “so is that a yes?”

you shrug, though the soft smile you send him is answer enough. “let’s try things out and see where things go for now,” you tell him. it’s better than nothing, he supposes; of you two, you’ve always been the more realistic and grounded one. “but there’s one thing i want to try.”

he tilts his head in confusion. “what’s that?”

a mischievous grin creeps onto your face, but you give him your most innocent eyes. “didn’t you say you wanted to kiss me?”

if mingyu thought he could get through today, he was sorely mistaken. it’s only been five minutes since the librarian left you two alone, but he feels like he’s about to have a heart attack. but as much as his brain short circuits from your words, he’s able to vigorously nod, excitement evident. “yes please,” he whispers.

the giggle that leaves your mouth is dizzying. the way you cup his cheeks and pull him down to match your height makes his heart jump. the way your eyes shine is intoxicating. your presence is enough to make him lose his balance; if it weren’t for your hold on him, he thinks he would have literally fallen. “is this okay?” you ask.

“yes.” he nods to the best of his ability - god, he’s never wanted anything more.

you giggle at his eagerness. “cute,” you mutter, pulling him closer.

though mingyu has had dozens of admirers coming at him left and right, he’s never actually kissed anyone, much less dated them. he can tell it’s the same for you, too, evident by the way your hands tremble as he inches closer to you. as embarrassed as he feels, he doesn’t dare close his eyes, afraid of disrupting this reality that seems too good to be true.

it’s a slow, gentle press of the lips, and when you separate, your breaths fan over each other’s lips. though short, it’s electrifying, and he feels impossibly lightheaded. he can tell you feel the same, seeing you nervously bite on your lip. “well, that was... something,” you quietly laugh.

he’s still unable to believe that you, the boy of his dreams, just kissed him. he thinks he can die happy now. “yeah,” he lamely answers, because his brain is only capable of pumping out one-word responses right now.

he feels like he’s in a romantic drama, where everything has slowed just to fit the protagonists’ agenda. but then the library doors are pushed open, shattering the atmosphere. luckily he jumps away from you before anyone can catch him in a scandalous position. when you both turn towards the entrance, you see the librarian standing there, frowning. “gentlemen, it’s almost been ten minutes. i can’t let you two loiter in here forever.”

you both send her sheepish smiles, hearts still thumping from the events that happened only seconds ago. “sorry!” you both apologize, scrambling to grab your things. you both continue spewing out apologies until you’re out of her ear shot.

once you both are outside, the sun is already setting. when you face each other, you both laugh at the way your lips are curled upwards, twitching with excitement. “i certainly didn’t expect for things to go this way,” you tell him.

neither did mingyu, but then again, the universe works in strange ways. perhaps it was better to let things play out instead of clutching onto a plan that was more likely to fail than succeed. “me neither.” mustering up the confidence in him, he cautiously brushes his fingers with yours. you intertwine them in affirmation, and he swears his heart is soaring with how everything from his dreams seems to be coming true. “let me walk you to your dorm?”

you hum, nodding. the kiss has only marked the beginning of things, but knowing you, you two will probably spend a few days laying out ground rules for your new relationship. “sure.”

when you surprise mingyu with another quick peck on the lips and run off, he decides he much prefers letting the universe meddle with his life than taking matters into his own hands before taking off to chase you down.

#seventeen #seventeen hip hop unit #kpop #seventeen x reader #seventeen x male reader #mingyu #kim mingyu #mingyu x reader #mingyu x male reader #renjuseyo : seventeen #renjuseyo : fics

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lovelylogans · 3 years

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honey, you’re familiar (like my mirror)

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chapter five: obligate mutualism

obligate mutualism: a type of mutualism in which the species involved are in close proximity and interdependent with one another in a way that one cannot survive without the other.

REMY

Emile appears in Nice, squealing and jumping up and down.

“Hey!” Remy says warmly, hugging him; Emile’s joy is so infectious that Remy can feel Emile’s smile stretching across his own face. “What’s got you so happy?”

“They let him off!” Emile says exuberantly. “Rem, they let Remus off! Jay proved that they don’t have anything on him so Remus is free to go!”

“Oh my God, that’s amazing!” Remy says, then, “wait, what was Remus under arrest for?”

“Oh, murder,” Emile says, waving that off, “but Jay proved that Remus was just joking when he was threatening him, so Remus got off! Oh my goodness, he’s out! He can finish his latest book! He can stay with Roman! Yay!”

“Yay,” Remy cheers weakly, wondering what the hell kind of cluster his boyfriend has birthed.

ROMAN

Roman drops a substantial amount of money on champagne on their drive home.

Remus rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning a little bit, so Roman assumes that he’s happy about it. Or maybe he’s plotting how to ruin Roman’s possessions with champagne. One of the two.

Roman opens the door, balancing the champagne bottles in his arms, feeling a lot like he’s forgotten something. He drops his keys into the bowl on the entry table.

“Hey, Roman! Ooh, champagne—on a Tuesday? What, did you land a role with Guillermo del Toro?”

“God, I wish,” Roman says wistfully, then, oh shit I forgot to tell Sasha.

Sasha blinks a couple times before she stands up.

“Um, hey, sweetie,” she says. “Who’s your friend?”

Remus snorts loudly at the fake endearment.

“Um, Sasha,” Roman says, shutting the door behind him. “This is my twin brother, Remus.”

Sasha gawks at Remus. “I didn’t know you had a brother!”

Remus socks him in the shoulder so hard that Roman nearly drops the heavy glass champagne bottle. “You bitch, you said you’d tell her!”

“I forgot?” Roman says weakly.

“I have no idea how you put up with him,” Remus tells Sasha. “Is the convenience of a beard worth hearing him sing Disney in the shower?”

Sasha, looking a little startled that Remus knows the full truth of the deal Roman and her made, rebuts with, “

“Where have you been before this, anyway?” Sasha says.

“Oh, jail,” Remus says brightly.

“Oh, okay,” Sasha says, and, with a level of casualness that frankly stuns Roman, moves on to, “So, I’ve had a gripe with one of your books for forever.”

“Oh?”

“I didn’t know you read his books,” Roman says, mystified.

“Yeah, I started back when I was doing that slasher pic a year and a half ago, you remember that?” Sasha says. “Helped me pick up on the internal life of a stalking victim. Anyways, the first book I read of yours—”

“Behind the Bushes, I’m guessing,” Remus says.

“Yeah!” Sasha says. “I super love that you subverted the expectations and the victim was the one that slaughtered the stalker, but I do think you could have carried through a threat she was considering through the book.”

“Which threat is that?” Remus says. “I write a lot of threats.”

“She should have castrated him,” Sasha says. “Duh.”

Remus looks at Sasha how an inventor might lovingly look at a device that finally works.

Roman groans, because he should have expected this outcome, and feared it.

“Oh, no,” Roman says. “You’re going to be friends.”

Sasha and Remus give him identical grins full of mischief.

LOGAN

Virgil appears sitting on the counter. Logan isn’t even fazed by the surprise of seeing him, although his heart rate does pick up a little.

Over the past few days, this is the way it’s been, between them; Logan suddenly finding himself looking over Virgil’s shoulder at his dinner when he’d meant to be looking at data charts, Virgil finding himself with handfuls of flowers in the face of the barren landscape of the Antarctic.

Even when he isn’t actively visiting, Logan still feels that pull, his mind turning to Virgil at the oddest times of day. He tastes coffee when he should be drinking tea. He finds himself idly doodling South African native flora during dinner. He thinks Virgil might like this when he tries to read a novel during his relaxation times and wonders how best to explain the minutiae of his science to another scientist.

“Hey, Logan,” Virgil says, and Logan feels that thrill in his stomach again.

“Hello, Virgil,” he says, after making a show of turning on his Bluetooth, for the benefit of the other scientists in the lab. “How have you been today?”

“Pretty okay,” Virgil says. “My mom said she was gonna see if she could find any of the other sensates down here that my grandma knew, so I might be able to hear more about her cluster.”

“Excellent!” Logan says. “Be sure to ask if they’re connected to the Archipelago?”

“You and that Neolithic Google,” Virgil says with a lopsided smile. “But, yeah. I’m being careful about it; I know not every sensate’s a great person to connect to. Ergo mom as a mediary.”

“A wise plan,” Logan says. “It does seem like a disadvantage that all that’s needed for a lifetime of connection is a singular instance of eye contact.”

“Maybe I should invest in a really good pair of blocking glasses,” Virgil teases, and he reaches over. Logan hadn’t even noticed they’d been slipping down the bridge of his nose.

Virgil gently nudges Logan’s glasses back into place, his finger resting on Logan’s nose, and Logan’s mouth goes abruptly dry.

This might be the first time one of us has touched the other.

Logan tries to swallow, coughs a little bit, and says, “It could potentially be a wise investment, yes. I’d—um. I’d have to do more research into what exactly would suffice to block eye contact.”

“Yeah,” Virgil rasps, and he clears his throat, too. “Yeah, that’s probably, uh. That’s probably a good thing to ask Emile about.”

“Yeah,” Logan says, and he fruitlessly tries to refocus his attention on his research. He’s much too aware of Virgil’s eyes on him.

JANUS

Janus turns the phone over and over in his hands.

One last job, two more jobs, three more jobs…

He remembers getting arrested for the first time. He remembers the lawyer who got Janus out of it, pro bono, and managed to keep it off his record by the skin of his teeth.

He thinks about representing Remus in the courtroom; he thinks about the state of his accounts; he thinks about how the threat of jail that Remus would have faced was what spooked him into pursuing a law degree in the first place.

He thinks about Remus and Roman, side-by-side in the courtroom; he thinks about Roman declaring that he doesn’t care if Remus killed him or not.

Roman is an idiot. An idealistic, loyal, altruistic idiot.

Janus is many things. He is not an idiot.

Key, scowling, sits across from him at the restaurant. Sriracha aioli, fried cod. Janus has been here a thousand times before.

He proffers the little box; Key takes it.

“This is my last job,” Janus says.

Key snorts. “I’ve heard that before.”

Janus hands him the burner phone, too.

“Oh shit,” Key says. “For real?”

“For real,” Janus reaffirms.

“Shit,” Key mutters, sitting back against the booth. They stay quiet. A waitress drops off their meal. They stay quiet for a bit longer.

“Don’t suppose I can lure you back with money,” Key tries to joke.

“No,” Janus says.

Key heaves a sigh. “All right. Well.”

He moves for his wallet, and Janus shakes his head.

“I’ve got lunch,” he says. “I can appreciate that I’m leaving you in the lurch for a computer guy.”

Key snorts and shakes his head disbelievingly. “Yeah. Somethin’ like that.”

Janus chews the inside of his lip. “If you ever need a lawyer…”

“Yeah,” Key says. He stands. “Yeah.”

Key leaves. Janus stays.

He’s been here a thousand times before. And yet.

PATTON

There’s a hint of spice in his mouth, and Patton rolls over in his bed to see Janus.

“I keep showing up when I should be sleeping, I think,” Patton muses, before he reaches out and takes one of the chips that Janus is neglecting.

Janus snorts. “Roman was stealing those the last time I was here. Perhaps you all keep showing up to eat my food.”

Patton smiles, dipping the chip in the sauce. “Maybe,” he says.

Janus exhales loudly, before he says, “I have a brother too.”

“Oh?” Patton asks, intrigued, and for a moment they’re in Patton’s bed, Patton lying down with his head propped up on his arm, Janus sitting uncomfortably at the corner.

“Unlike Remus, mine did it. Does it,” Janus amends.

Patton frowns. “That’s tough.”

“I did too, until,” Janus checks his watch. “Three minutes ago.”

Patton’s eyebrows lift in surprise, but that’s the only sign he shows.

“It’s the reason I became a lawyer,” Janus says.

“Oh,” Patton says because that—that clicks. He doesn’t know Janus very well—he will, surely, but he doesn’t yet—but taking on the good-quality job of lawyer for self-protective reasons makes a lot of sense. Janus kind of seems like the type of person to not really want to rely on other people.

“So, I don’t,” Janus says, and he sighs again. “I’ve been chasing down just one more job for years and years, and now…”

“Now, you’re done, and you don’t really know what to do with yourself?” Patton asks sympathetically.

Janus nods and he drinks some of his Ribena. The fizz of blackcurrant condensation pops in Patton’s mouth.

“Can I offer some advice?” Patton says. “You can do whatever you want with it.”

Janus scoffs a little, but he gestures for Patton to go ahead.

Patton takes another chip. “There are a lot of other people who need a lawyer’s help to stay out of jail. Not just sets of brothers.”

He dips the chip, takes a bite, and is back in bed right as a thoughtful look dawns on Janus’s face.

REMUS

Roman’s fake girlfriend is delightful.

They spend almost the entirety of dinner talking about their favorite horror movies—Sasha is quite the aspiring scream queen in her career, so it makes sense that she’s studied the greats—to a point where Roman puts his hands over his ears and went “I can’t hear you, lalalalalalaLALALALALALALA—”

Truly excellent. Especially when Roman had screeched at the top of his lungs when Sasha had gone into an in-depth side tangent about the verity of the special effects of slitting throats in movies.

And now—

“Ooh, that was good!” Remus says eagerly, pointing at the Sasha in the little screen as she gets stabbed.

“Right?!” Sasha says, and they ooh! in unison as the movie gets increasingly bloodier.

“I hate you both,” Roman grouches from where he’s slouched between them, one hand covering his eyes.

Sasha ruffles his hair. “Go ahead and break up with me, then, I’m sure the press will get us both booked like crazy.”

Roman grumbles to himself, and Remus grins at Sasha over Roman’s head.

“If any of my shit gets adapted into movies, I’m absolutely gonna make sure you get cast into a leading role.”

Sasha grins back. “You’re the best fake brother-in-law I could ask for.”

⁂

Sasha is flopped out on the couch, asleep, as the credits of the movie roll in the background.

“Where is your nearest sharpie,” Remus asks, and Roman rolls his eyes, pulling Remus to his feet.

“Leave her alone, Freak-a Kahlo. I’ve got a spot set up for you to sleep.”

“But,” Remus whines, images of lewd drawings dancing in his head, but he allows Roman to pull him away anyway.

Roman has got a little cot set up for him in his room; it’s like they’re ten again, on a trip to see their abuela, except Remus can’t tackle him and wrestle him to the ground for the honor of sleeping on the bed.

Well, he could, but considering Roman posted Remus’s bail, he figures that roman could be allowed to sleep in his own bed.

All the same, it does give Remus a strange sense of deja vu of their (admittedly rare) family vacations; Roman brushes his teeth and does his extensive skincare routine in the bathroom first, then he cajoles Remus into handling his hygiene, please, they’re living together in the same room, eating soap didn’t exactly work to make Remus smell like a spring rose. To which Remus would usually rebut good, he doesn’t want to smell like a spring rose, he wants to smell like sewage, to which Roman goes ugh, how are we twins, how did two people so catastrophically different come out of the same womb, at the same time, to which Remus says it’s payback for stealing my dick in utero, to which Roman says that doesn’t even make any sense, it’s not like I have two, to which Remus says—

It’s a whole familiar argument, anyway. But Remus does at least dunk his head into Roman’s bathtub to get his hair sopping wet and swish around some mouthwash.

They’re both tucked into their blankets, and Remus is staring at the ceiling, wondering at the best ways to ruin Roman’s fancy linens. He thinks Roman’s fallen asleep until his voice pipes up.

“I’m glad you’re not rotting in jail.”

Remus ugly-snorts. “Yeah, I guess I am too.”

“Thanks to our weird psychic lawyer, anyway.”

“And your fuck-off big actor money,” Remus reminds him, rolling over to face him. The room is so dark that he can barely see the outline of Roman’s face.

“Yeah, honestly, bribing the cops was going to be my next plan if you didn’t show up,” Roman says sleepily.

Remus grins at Roman in the dark. “I’ve been a fantastic influence on you.”

“Incorrect,” Roman grumbles.

“You’ll be watching slashers with Sasha and me in no time.”

“Ugh, I hope not,” Roman says.

“They’re inspiring!”

“Yeah, to you, Mr. Big Horror Novelist.”

“You know what else is big—”

“Ew! Ew ew ew, I know I set it up, but ew. No.”

“...This—”

“Remus, I’m kicking you out, I swear to God.”

“No, you’re not,” Remus sing-songs, “You were gonna bribe the cops, I’m holding this over your head forever.”

“I didn’t actually bribe the cops.”

“Yeah, but you were gonna,” Remus says. “Funnily enough, that seemed like the biggest case the cops had against me, too. That I was gonna.”

“I know you’re a horror writer, but I hope you don’t write about Miguel,” Roman says. “Might look a bit too If I Did It to the public.”

“Course not,” Remus says, his eyes slipping shut.

“Good.”

“I’m going to be writing a book about murdering the cops.”

“Oh, much better,” Roman sighs.

VIRGIL

Virgil spits out his toothpaste into the sink and looks up into the mirror to see Logan in his reflection, his glasses off, a toothbrush in hand.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Virgil quips.

The Logan in his reflection smiles at him awkwardly around his toothbrush, blushes, then redirects his attention to finishing off brushing his teeth as quickly and thoroughly as possible. Virgil uses that time to wash his face; Logan follows not long after. Virgil gets a whiff of the facewash Logan is using; it smells rather nice, something floral.

They do their respective routines in companionable quiet; Logan, waking up for the day, and Virgil, about to go to sleep.

“What’s on your agenda for the day?” Virgil asks, moisturizing his face.

“Research, research, and more research,” Logan says dryly, rubbing sunscreen onto his face. Their hands move in unison; moving in small circles on each cheek, up to the forehead, down the nose, the chin, down the neck. Mirror images, if not for their distinct physical differences.

“Probably should’ve guessed that,” Virgil says, rubbing the excess moisturizer into his forearms.

“Oh, you missed—”

And suddenly, Logan is not just in his mirror, but in his bathroom, reaching out a hand to smooth some more moisturizer into his skin.

“Right here,” Logan says softly, his fingers gentle on Virgil’s cheekbone. Virgil barely even breathes as Logan smooths away the smear of moisturizer.

“There,” Logan murmurs, but he’s still cradling Virgil’s face.

“Thanks,” Virgil rasps.

Logan smiles at him, just a little. “You missed right there when we first met, too.”

“Did I really?” Virgil asks. He can barely focus on anything else except the cool smoothness of Logan’s hand.

“Mhm,” Logan says. “There I was, thinking I was going crazy, and there was this African man planting a jacaranda tree into the tile, with a smear of sunscreen on his face…”

“And I had this note-taking Pole talking to me about preferring if I were a hallucination,” Virgil says. “Telling me you’d ignore me if you saw me again.”

“And then I immediately started questioning you,” Logan says, smiling. “And…”

He trails off. His hand is still on Virgil’s face. Virgil is standing so stock-still he could probably turn into a scarecrow, if only for the virtue of keeping Logan’s hand on him.

“And then I kept feeling this pull,” Logan continues quietly, looking Virgil in the eyes. He isn’t wearing his glasses; there is nothing between Virgil and those bright blue, captivating eyes. “This pull to come to you.”

“Me too,” Virgil says softly.

Logan licks his lips. He says, softly, “I do wonder why it is us, that keep feeling this pull to each other.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” Logan affirms quietly. “Maybe there’s that call to those similar that we theorized about, that day. Maybe that’s what fuels this connection. Whenever I learned something new, I flashed to you. Always to you. I’m not sure if we’ll ever find out why. Perhaps there’s a level of…”

A level of what, Virgil doesn’t know, because he leans in and kisses Logan.

Logan freezes, and, with anyone else, Virgil would panic and pull back, thinking he’d been presumptuous, but he abruptly feels a thrill in his stomach and a yes in hid mind that may as well be in Logan’s voice, and Virgil’s shoulders relax at the presence of it, of that pull between them finally being eased.

Virgil wraps his arms around Logan’s waist, and Logan’s arms twine around Virgil’s neck, and they kiss, continents and oceans apart, able to taste the minty toothpaste on each other’s breath.

#my fic #my fanfic

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sketchingtons · 3 years

Note

Starling au Jason and Tim friendship?

I see Jason and Tim being really close friends in this au-basically family, since I mentioned Tim is considered like an extended family member/cousin to the batclan here!

My ramblings got a bit long lol, so there’s more info under the cut!

So, when Tim hears a new Robin has entered the scene he’s jazzed! Starfire has Nightwing’s back, and so now he “can help save this new Robin, and we’ll be best friends maybe, if Jason wants to be, and I’ll kick his butt if he’s ever too reckless just like Kori taught me to, and-Dick, why are you laughing, this is serious business!” Suffice to say, Tim is very excited about all this.

With Dick helping Kori look after Tim as well, I think this also helps Dick interact better with Jason in the beginning-helping to take care of Tim has given him a bit of a primer on being a big brother, and seeing how excited Tim is to meet him definitely has Dick trying to make more of an effort in their relationship (It’s still pretty rocky in the beginning tho, cause Dick made a truly awful first impression on Jason akshdh) When relations settle a bit more, Dick’s #1 priority becomes scheduling some kind of play date for Jason and Tim to meet because he is very invested in Tim having friends-something Tim is struggling with in his civilian life due to moving recently/vigilante training/not really “clicking” with any of his peers, etc. (And if he gets some vindictive amusement out of turning an overexcited Tim on an unprepared Jason, well, no one has to know that)

Also! I think it’s really important to both of them that they’re like? Vigilante peers/friends of similar ages because, while Jason has Dick and Tim has Kori, they’re more like family/mentors than friends and it’s nice to have someone of similar age to complain about not only superhero bs but also school/life whose more at your age level-so I think they really bond over that kind of thing! They help each other w/ homework, and gossip about their mentors, and go on weekend excursions around the city where Tim can skateboard and take pictures and Jason can check out all the libraries-I just get very emotional about them doing things together and being best friends ok, it’s what they both need!! 🥺🙏 (sometimes Jason is asked to fill in as a short term babysitter for Tim when Dick/Kori can’t watch him and the rest of the Titans are unavailable, but this has the highest chance of devolving into chaos and is a last resort 😂)

I also like the idea that they do joint training with Nightwing and Starfire/the Titans whenever Jason visits them! Early on in Jason’s Robin career Tim is still, like, 10/11? And has a begrudging agreement with Kori and Dick that he won’t start vigilante-ing until he’s 13 at least (he’s trying to wear them down to 12, but they’re holding strong) but he’s still doing a lot of training because he wants to start strong once he’s allowed to go out! So he does training with Jason when he’s there, and they become a pretty good dynamic duo of their own-and Jason loves learning Tamaranian fighting moves, he thinks Kori is very cool. Tim gets Bat training with Dick but, once Bruce gets over his paranoia and finally allows Tim to visit the cave, Bruce gives him some training too-especially w/ detective work since they’re both pre-disposed to it and they bond over that!

I kind of just rambled on for a bit here, I hope some of it made sense 😂 and here is a little doodle of Starling!Tim catching Jason from falling out of the sky, since it took me so long to answer this ask 🙏

#asked and answered #agendercryptidlev #Starling!Tim au #tim drake #jason todd #I just want them being best friends and bro’s!! 😭 🙏#someone remind me that I also need to expand more on Tim’s secret ID #especially with regards to other heroes cause the fact that he’s fully human is actually a secret #cause I live for layered secret identity shenanigans 👏#god now I really wanna write something for Tim and Jason interacting in this au #also I just learned how to put a read more on mobile #this is truly life changing 🙏

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ask-octoberotto · 2 years

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have you seen anyone by the name of eddie brock? or venom? have you ever encountered a symbiote?

I have! In fact, I know a symbiotic pair personally! …Though, Based on what @ask-spider-man-61610 has told me about other symbiotes he’s encountered, the ones here in Earth-2 are not exactly the same as the classical Klyntar species. I’ve briefly mentioned Ed Brock and her partner Vee but I feel that clarification is needed here, which will be under the read more because it got a bit longer than expected.

For one thing in this dimension, aliens don’t really to exist. Or at least, there is no undeniable proof of sentient alien life forms that exists, much less ones that would interact with us humans specifically. Additionally, as I alluded to before, magic is definitely not a real thing here either. With that context established, we now arrive at the question of what the symbiotes are in this universe.

… Well, the answer is that they are genetically engineered slime mold, designed to be “wearable” BOW (Bio Organic Weapon) “suit” that were mention to be bonded with a human host, essentially turning said host into a pathological agent-resistant super soldier of sorts. They’re meant to go into combat with other BOWs without risk of getting infected by potential pathogens but they’re also capable of consuming the flesh matter from deceased BOWs (think of them like “a clean up crew” to put it bluntly), along with hiding in plain sight by taking on the appearance of clothing the hosts can wear. Presumably, they’re supposed to be working under the orders of other organizations that deal with BOWs/outbreaks, serving as their agents.

From what Ed and Vee have disclosed to me, these BOWs are referred to as “Klyntarian suits” or colloquially, the Klyntars, by their creators at a bioengineering and research facility known as the LIFE Foundation. As it turns out, Vee was one of the first successful lab grown prototypes this organization developed for the BOW market.

However, Vee has told me that LIFE was rather.. abusive towards them and their fellow suits, including their children. I won’t divulge into their personal matters, but suffice it to say, Vee wanted to escape from the lab they only knew. When Pax (then Spider-Woman) broke into the labs one night to gather incriminating information on the CEO, Carlton Drake, Vee would “hitch a ride” on her in order to escape. However, since they didn’t previously have a host before Pax, that meant they ended up bonding with her (and thus gaining some of her abilities as well).. While they initially got along at first, they were not meant to be (Vee didn’t divulge in why) and they parted ways.. and eventually, Vee would bond with Ed Brock, a journalist.

Ed and Vee seem to be a very harmonious team on and off the battlefield. Actually.. they almost seem to act like a couple..? I don’t want to assume anything of them, of course, but the way they banter sort of gives off the impression. Maybe they’ll tell me one day but right now, it’s not easy to get ahold of them, especially when they prefer to work with each other and not anyone else.

[OOC: Here’s a doodle of them I’ve drawn!]

#october otto #spider man au #spiderverse #doc ock #pax parker #venom #ed brock #doctor octopus #answered #art

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impassive-aggressive · 2 years

Text

I've been thinking about art a lot lately, or more specifically my relationship with it and my identity as an artist.

The latter is something I've actively resisted for most of my life because my art didn't feel art-y enough - I just make doodles of cartoon characters, they're nothing special, there's no profound message I'm trying to convey. It's only in the last couple of years that I've felt even a little bit comfortable in embracing the thought that I am An Artist and I create Art, even if it's silly and unpolished and, I guess, disposable.

(I *do* have a lot of Thoughts and Feelings wandering around in my head but I don't think I'm good enough at art yet to convey them meaningfully, or maybe art just isn't how I feel comfortable expressing them, I don't know. There's a lot of psychology involved in art that makes it weird and messy and complicated. Anyway.)

I went through a really rough patch wrt art around 2010-11, the details of which I don't feel like going into here, but suffice to say I couldn't find any pleasure or satisfaction or *worth* in drawing anymore. I hated everything I produced, it only made me depressed and reluctant to try anything that might improve it because I was terrified of failing. This thing that had been a constant in my life for literally as long as I could remember had more or less failed me. Drawing had always been kind of a comfort - if I couldn't do anything else right, at least I could draw - and that was gone now. Needless to say, this didn't do a lot for my already-shitty mental health.

Several things happened ~2015 that helped turn this around, namely that I started taking antidepressants and found an online social thing that I could throw myself into wholeheartedly. I felt better and actually wanted to start drawing again, and I wasn't *as* scared of fucking up as I had been, so I started really trying to improve my art and strengthen some of my weaker areas. Last year, in possibly the only good thing to have come out of 2020, I was finally in a position where I was enjoying the process of making art again. Drawing was fun, and challenging, and actually brought me pleasure instead of making me feel like a failure. I currently don't do as much of it as I'd like because my body is excruciatingly stingy with its mental/emotional energy - or maybe I don't do very much that I end up showing to other people; I draw pretty regularly during down time at work, which has been...immensely, indescribably rewarding. Art and I are on more than speaking terms, at last. We're friends again and that feels amazing after having gone so long being estranged from it.

So what's weird about art, and I don't think this is just a Me thing because I see *a lot* of other artists express similar feelings, is that it's simultaneously a source of joy and one of extreme, brutal frustration. Art feels *good* but as soon as it's finished you see a million things you could have done better. Being around other artistic people gets you fired up to want to Get Good but as soon as you try you're dismayed to discover that improvement is an agonizingly slow process - and this is something that you absolutely will """discover""" again and again, even though as an artist you are already acutely aware of how long it takes to improve at things. You simultaneously love being an artist and curse it with every fibre of your being, wondering over and over why you were born into this hellish existence of grasping for perfection that you will never attain. And you angst about it for like three seconds and then get an awesome idea for Art and go right back to drawing, because you're an idiot ARTIST.

You know that comic that's floating around about how being an artist isn't about being "good enough", it's about being too dumb to stop? It's true. I finally get that. And I think that's what makes me feel that, yes, I am in fact an artist.

My art still isn't really what I'd call "good", but I think I'm well enough at last to be kind to myself and accepting of my failings, to acknowledge that there's room to improve while I celebrate the advancements I've made. Amidst the constant drive to express myself and share with other people there also has to be room to have fun and play and do things that are just for me. I feel like the state of being an artist is a force of nature that has to be harnessed and directed; you can't really control it, because it's there and it will do its thing whether you want it to or not, but you can find ways to guide it and live with it in a healthy fashion.

...I still have a lot of thoughts on this but holy shit I've blathered on about this way too much already. derp.

#~deep thoughts~#tl;dr #i got a lotta feelings #artists amirite

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farflypants · 3 years

Text

Short story thing? I guess it’s like a writing doodle? Yeah writing doodle.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Okay alright yes uh huh no. Nonono. No. Gah. Alright let me collect my thoughts because this? Was a ride. Okay deep breaths.

It started because I ran out of pickles. I noticed it after I finished my lunch when I went to get me a snack. Okay simple fix, I just run down to the store and pick up a jar yes? Yes. Well kinda. The trip went off normally, I got the jar, paid for it, and came home. I put the keys into the door enter and? It’s not my home. Not in the slightest. Not just furniture and appliances moved around and different but like, the layout too!

First thought was “Oh shoot I must have entered my neighbor’s apartment by mistake.” Not so. I check the number? Mine. I use my phone GPS to check the address? Mine. I go outside and check my keys? Same exact key’s I’ve been using since I started living here.

Wait. The door. I put the keys into the door and lock and re lock the door multiple times and sure enough they still work.

Second thought was “time travel nonsense? Did I travel to the future or something? Maybe they remodeled when I was away? ... and forgot to change the locks?” No. Checked my phone, time is still the same as when I arrived at my home and it is still the same day. Okay not time travel.

Third thought “Parallel dimensions? Did I just get Mandelaed? Fall through the cracks between dimensions? Y’know? Like how some people who misremember or were misinformed about things think happened to them. Like in comics and science fiction?” No. How do I know? Not entirely sure, dimensions are weird. I do know that I called my brother. By then it’d been about 20 minutes and the pickles are chilling in the fridge which was now next to my bed and not in the kitchen! Argh anyway, called my brother. He’s been to my apartment before so he knew what it was supposed to look like. He’s as confused as me. We compare pictures that we took of the place when I moved in and they are the same as they were. And the pictures look nothing like this place.

At that point I gave up. My brother headed home after we hung out for a bit. Suddenly I had a new home with different stuff and I just kinda had to live with it.

Two weeks. Two whole dang weeks later I figured it out. And honestly I still don’t fully believe it. Y’know what it was!? A mimic. A gosh dang MIMIC! Like in DnD and video games. How did I figure that out?

So. Middle of the night. Maybe 3 am? I hear a loud bang followed by falling rubble and jolt awake. The roof to the kitchen fell in. Behind the false plaster and drywall? Flesh. …. Rotting flesh. I am not going into detail about that part but suffice to say the creature that became my home was dead.

Turns out that in the time it took me to go out and buy myself a jar of pickles a Mimic entered my home and tried to become it to lure me in and eat me. I got really lucky because I left out a knife on my kitchen counter that ended up stabbing it in the brain causing it to die just before I got back from my pickle excursion.

The worst part? If not for my laziness with the knife the dang thing would have killed me! At least I got my home back the way it was. And very luckily the smell has been dissipating. Maybe in a few days it won’t smell anymore.

#writing doodle #random short story

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baka-monarch · 4 years

Note

👉👈 soulmate au where whatever you write appears on the other's arm but one is smol and the other is the human who caught them. 👉👈

Was scrolling through my WIPs when I saw this thing I wrote at some point around the beginning of summer. It was supposed to have more chapters, and he gets caught eventually, but here's chapter 1. But then I remembered your ask and how I'd been having writer's block, so I hope this will suffice! Also, it has trans Patton, so don't freak out because of Logan's soul mate

Just A Little Emo

Chapter 1 (idk if I'm ever going to finish the other chapters if I'm being honest)

Virgil had just turned three not even a month ago, but loved to play with the marker tips his parents had borrowed for his present. He didn’t have any paper scraps to doodle on, but that didn’t stop him as his arm got covered with every color he could fit on there. He stuck out his tongue, laying on the ground, focused on his masterpiece. His oversized hoodie, from his mom, was discarded to the side, giving him full access to the canvas that was his skin. He was so focused that when suddenly a little flower was drawn out of nowhere, he jumped making a startled noise as he waved his hand around trying to get it off.

“Virgil, what’s wrong?” His mother spoke gently, as she came to investigate.

“Fower!?” Virgil held out his little hand showing her the illustration still being added to by an unknown hand. His mother smiled softly, knowing exactly what was going on.

“Honey, that’s your soul mate.” She picked him up, and held his hand so he could watch as more detail was added.

“Souw matt?” He looked at her curiously.

“”What you draw on your skin, your soulmate will see too, and when they draw it’ll be just for you!”” His mother quoted, booping him on the nose on the last word. “Your soulmate is your true love, the person you’re meant to be with. When you draw on your skin, you’re showing them that you care, and that you will always be there for them…” She trailed off sadly at the end.

“Daddy souw matt?” Virgil pointed to his mother’s hand, not noticing her change of mood.

“No, daddy isn’t my soulmate. I’m afraid neither of us have met ours yet.” She looked down at her hand, where there was currently a picture of a small four leaf clover, with its leaves designed like hearts. “Most borrowers don’t ever meet their soulmate.”

“Mommy?” Virgil squished her cheeks between his hands, getting marker ink all her face, smiling when she gave him a confused look. “Souw matt see wove now!” She giggled at his words.

“Yes, Virgil, they can see how much I love them now.” Some words were written on her arm making her chuckle, Virgil tried to make sense of the scribbles, but had no idea what they meant. “Why don’t you go draw something for your soulmate while I make dinner, okay?”

“Okie!” He giggled jumping off her lap. He grabbed his markers and started coloring in the flower that was being drawn. His mother smiled fondly at him.

Neither of them knew that this was going to be their last memory together. That, after that night Virgil’s father would leave her, taking Virgil with him.

⇔

Virgil spent two years without a mom. His dad explained that he’d found out his soulmate didn’t live too far away and had made plans in secret to be with her by meeting at a house close to where each lived. Unfortunately, they had miscalculated and Virgil’s dad had to take care of Virgil alone for two years. Throughout that time Virgil was left alone in the walls often, and had a game him and his soulmate would play. One of them would start a drawing and the other would finish it, they did that and many other things together just through their connection alone. Neither of them knew how to read or write yet, so when Virgil felt alone he would talk to himself, imagining that his soulmate was there with him, listening to all of his random little thoughts.

Little did he know that his soulmate was doing the same thing.

Roman King could remember that night clear as day. He had woken up from his nap time to find his arms and hands covered with all sorts of colors, with more still appearing. He had rushed out of the nursery, ignoring his snoring brother, and straight(lol)to his mom. “Mommy! Mommy!” His mother turned around from the cooking pasta at her son’s distressed voice, seeing tears pricking his eyes as he held out his arms with fear. It didn’t take her long to understand. She picked up her sniffling son, wiping his tears away. “Mommy, there color o-on m-m-me, a-a-and i-it’s sti-il coming!”

“Shh, shh.” She rubbed the tears and snot from his face. “It’s okay sweetheart, it’s okay, it’s only your soulmate.”

“Saoul malt?” He looked at her confused, then back down at his arms, trying to see if there was something there, other than the colors. His mother chuckled fondly.

“Yes, your “saoul malt”.” She booped him on the nose. “”What you draw on your skin, your soulmate will see too, and when they draw it’ll be just for you!”” She tapped his arm as an example. “Your soulmate is drawing for you Roman, it means that they love you.”

“Wove?” Roman’s eyes widened and sparkled at the familiar word.

“Yes, love, like Sleeping Beauty and Prince Charming.” She chuckled as he looked down at his arms with wonder and delight.

“Pwincess?” He held his arms out to her in question.

“Maybe, you’ll never know until you meet her, Prince Roman.” She smiled as he gasped with wonder. His eyes sparkled with excitement. “Do you wanna draw for her?” She grabbed a discarded marker off the counter and held it out to him.

“Mhm!” He snatched the marker and wiggled out of her arms as she set him down. As soon as he was back on the floor he fell to his bum and uncapped the marker. It only took him a few seconds to think of what to draw for his princess. A flower. It was perfect, what princess doesn’t like a flower?

⇔

For the next two years Roman always had a marker on him just so he could draw with his soulmate. You could almost say that they were inseparable. It was during these two years that Roman started preschool, while there he learned a little about writing, mainly his name, but that didn’t stop him from picking up the skill quickly as he wrote and rewrote his name on his arm over and over again hoping that someday he would know more about these scribbles so he could ‘talk’ to his soulmate.

One day as Virgil was coloring one of his soulmate’s doodles he saw a series of scribbles appear. Although he recognized them as words, he had no idea what they meant. Not knowing what else to do, he mimicked the scribbles to show that he saw them to his soulmate. In return his soulmate scribbled again, and Virgil in turn copied him. They kept doing this, scribbling and rescribbleing, each new scribble being more clearer and clean. At some point Virgil even ran out of room on his arms, so he listed his oversized hoodie and started scribbling there.

“What’re ya doin there Spiderman?” His dad asked as he returned from borrowing.

“Souw matt.” Virgil pointed at the scribbles, showing the red ink where his soulmate had scribbled and the black ink where he had copied them. Virgil’s dad recognized what the scribbles were and what they said easily.

“It’s your soulmate’s name Spiderman.” He explained as he picked up his son.

“Na-ame?” Virgil sounded out.

“Yeah, it looks like your soulmate is Roman.” His father smiled.

“Wroammin?” Virgil tried the name.

“Yeah, Roman.” His father said a little more hard, trying to help his son to understand the name.

“Raman.” Virgil smiled, proud that he ‘got’ the name. His dad chuckled at his son’s attempt, but still proud how close he was.

“Do you wanna write your name?” He gently took the marker tip, ready to help the kid.

“Yeah!” Virgil exclaimed with stars in his eyes.

⇔

It wasn’t until later that night that Roman saw a series of scribbles appear on his arm, spelling out, what his mom claimed said, “Virgil.” Through the next two years up until kindergarten, Roman did all he could to learn about writing, as Virgil worked with his dad when he could to learn how to write in return. It wasn’t until the first day of kindergarten that Roman realized that there was more to reading and writing than just talking to your soulmate.

“Hello class, my name is Mrs. Parrot, and welcome to kindergarten.” Roman was five now, and was in kindergarten. Roman barely heard the teacher as he and Virgil tried to write each other’s names more fancier than the other. So far it seemed that Virgil was winning as he added all these little stars and curly letters, but Roman was determined to win. He paid no mind to the rest of the class or the teacher, as he wrote Virgil’s name on his arm in bubble letters, using all the markers he had to color them in, adding little spiders and skulls (he knew Virgil liked them from all the times they finished each other’s drawings), and making sure that there was more than enough purple. In fact he was so engrossed that he hadn't noticed the class sharing their names, hadn’t noticed all the eyes that had focused on him from his assigned table, hadn’t noticed the lesson, and had definitely not noticed the teacher's annoyance. Well, he hadn’t noticed until the teacher snached all of his markers away.

“Hey!” Roman glared up at her. It didn’t take long for her to see his soulmate’s writing on his arm.

“I understand if you want to write to your soulmate, but please pay attention.” She snapped before clicking back to her desk, depositing the markers into her desk. “You’ll get these back at the end of class.” Was all she said before returning to teaching. Roman only pouted, perfectly content with not paying attention until then.

“My soulmate also draws to me during school.” To Roman’s left there was a boy about his age, except he looked uptight with his hair made well and the little suit he wore. The boy fixed his glasses before holding out a hand for him to shake. “I am Logan.” As Roman went to shake the hand, he almosted wanted to laugh in surprise, despite Logan’s cold exterior his arm was covered in cute little drawings, most of which were goofy little cartoons. Roman hesitated to collect himself before taking the hand to shake it.

“Roman.” As their hands shook they noticed that their soulmates had stopped drawing momentarily. When they pulled their hands apart, Roman noticed that he had gotten some of his purple ink on Logan’s hand. Instead of Logan being distraught, his eyes widened in amazement as the word ‘Virgil’ appeared next to the smudge, he looked at Roman’s hand to find the word ‘Peggy’ written on his. “Peggy?” Roman questioned.

“She’s my soulmate.” Logan thought for a moment, “They must know each other.” he theorised.

“No way!” Roman exclaimed. “How do we know for sure?” Logan wasted no time in pulling out a marker of his own, keeping it and his hand under the desk. He didn’t normally break rules, but this was to test a hypothesis. He used Roman’s arm for reference as he wrote ‘Roman’ onto his arm. Only moments later did the word ‘Logan’ appear on Roman’s arm. “That’s so cool!”

“Indeed.” Logan breathed in surprise.

⇔

Virgil’s dad had recently found a small borrower settlement in an abandoned sewer pipe not even five feet away from the house they were living in. So when his dad was busy for the day, he left Virgil with one of the shop owners there, she had a daughter about Virgil’s age as well. Her name was Peggy, and Virgil got along with her well. It was on this particular day that Virgil and Peggy were left in a backroom of the shop unattended with some marker tips, and Virgil was doing all he could to write Roman’s name in the most magnificent way he could, as Roman was writing his name just as grand. Peggy watched from the side with intrigue as she drew little cartoony puppies every now and then on her arm. They didn’t really think much of their different arms, until Peggy brought up a point.

“What if our soulmates know each other?” She wondered aloud.

“There’s no way.” Virgil deadpanned, not looking up from his writing even though it seemed Roman had stopped. “It’s basically impossible.”

“Did your soulmate stop drawing?” She noted.

“We were writing, but yeah.” He stopped his scribbling for a moment to actually look at it.

“Well, my soulmate usually stops drawing around this time as well.” She explained. “Maybe they live together?”

“It’s probably just a coincidence.” Virgil tried, but there was no denying it when suddenly the splotch on Virgil’s hand was mirrored onto Peggy’s hand.

“See!?” She bounced with excitement and grabbed a marker tip. “What’s your name again?”

“Uhm-”

“Nevermind!” She cut him off as she used his arm for reference, she quickly wrote his name next to the smudge on her hand, before grabbing Virgil’s hand.

“Hey!” He tried to pull it back, but there was nothing he could do as she wrote her name on his hand. “What was that for-” The words were lost on Virgil’s tongue as Roman’s name appeared on Peggy’s arm. “How…”

“See! They do know each other!” She bounced.

“What’s your soulmate’s name?” Virgil asked.

“Logan!” She chirped.Virgil nodded and wrote Logan onto his arm. Moments later there was a little check mark next to the name, showing that Roman had seen it.

“Looks like they do know each other.”

#sander sides #roman sanders #virgil sanders #prinxiety #g/t #giant/tiny #borrower Virgil #ask #request #promt #soulmate au #just a little emo #trans patton #kid roman #kid virgil

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