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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 4 years ago

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A Miraculous TikTok Account

Part 12

First

Carapace stared at the two different files on his computer, his mouse hovering between them.

What should he do? Should he force himself to finish his schoolwork tonight so he could have the next day off once class was over? Or should he work on a video for TikTok while he had motivation?

Or he could do both…?

He made a brief trip down to the kitchen for a cup of coffee and his eyes narrowed when he saw that the coffee machine had mysteriously disappeared, as had all the coffee pods.

Chat hated coffee, but Rena and Chloe both accepted some when offered --.

Oh, who was he kidding? He knew the culprit.

He made his way up to the attic and he found Chloe and Ladybug cuddling under some blankets (or, rather, Chloe was cuddling Ladybug, Ladybug was sketching something and listening to music). It wasn’t even a particularly cold day, but he had long-since lost the need to question most of the weird things that miraculous holders did. It was probably a miraculous thing, it was whatever.

His nose picked up the distinct smell of coffee and he caught sight of the mug Chloe was using to warm her hands. Or maybe she was holding it for Ladybug. Or both. Whatever.

Ladybug didn’t even look up from her sketchbook.

Chloe did, though, barely lifting her head off of Ladybug’s shoulder to meet his eyes.

“Bonjour,” she said. Detached and formal, but it was better than her usual habit of just… rudely jumping into conversation without saying hi. He would take it.

“Salut,” he said. “Where’s the coffee?”

Chloe hesitated, then nudged Ladybug. She blinked behind her mask and pulled an earbud out of her ear.

“Mmm?”

“Carapace wants coffee.”

Ladybug looked a little put out but pointed her pencil at the desk, where the stolen coffee machine now resided.

He nodded and made his way over. He reached into the jar of coffee pods and then paused.

“I went shopping yesterday. How many has she had?”

Ladybug, who hadn’t yet put her earbud back in, flushed red. “An amount. Who are you, my dad? Leave it alone.”

“You’re going to die --.”

“No, I won’t. I’m monitoring my dosage.”

He opened his mouth to argue, and then decided it wasn’t worth it. “Whatever. I’m taking the machine back downstairs.”

This got a pout.

The blanket moved. He heard Chloe gasp a little as if she’d been jabbed in the side. She gave Ladybug a slight glare before rolling her eyes and sticking her lower lip out as well.

Now he was getting two pouts.

“Don’t give me that. Just be glad I’m not cutting you off entirely.”

This got Ladybug to shape up. She quickly put her earbud back in and went back to sketching.

Chloe looked between them and gave an exasperated huff, then went back to attempting to steal her friend’s(? Carapace was kind of confused about their relationship, if he was honest) body heat.

He took the machine down and poured himself a cup, then went back to his computer.

… damn. He’d taken too long and now his motivation to edit footage for TikTok was gone.

Whatever, he thought as he took a sip of his coffee, at least he could get his schoolwork done.

Okay, so, mistakes were made.

He groaned and rubbed his face sleepily as he detached his face from his desktop the next morning, his phone alarm blaring that it was time to wake up. The caffeine had kept him up until five in the morning. He’d forgotten that Ladybug had gotten the highest dosage she could last time. Damn it.

He slowly reached for his phone and pulled up the screen to turn off the alarm.

His eyes landed on the time.

He had fifteen minutes to get across Paris for class.

Not possible for him as a civilian, but Carapace…

Wayzz gave him a tired look, as he usually did when he was about to use his miraculous for personal gain, but he ignored it as he scooped everything on his desk into his bag.

He sniffed his hoodie and decided it was fine.

He did apply some extra deodorant, though. Just in case.

“Shell on,” he said, slinging his backpack over his shoulders just before he transformed and jumping out of his window.

Being the ‘nice hero’ was a bit inconvenient when he needed to get places quickly.

He had to stop every few rooftops to wave and smile at people lest he run into a chimney or walk right over the side of the building in his distraction. Beyond just his image, people are getting akumatized over anything these days, so it was necessary that he be nice to them. He was just grateful no one thought to ask for a picture or something.

But he managed to be on time. Barely. He detransformed in an alley near the school and sprinted the rest of the way to class. The door was pushed open a minute before it was due to start. However, in his haste, he tripped over the sill. He faceplanted.

Great, he thought bitterly as he rubbed his sore cheek. At least no one would suspect him to be a hero after that.

He walked over to an empty seat and plopped himself down, fighting the urge to sink into his hoodie as eyes followed him.

Thankfully, class was starting, so everyone was quickly distracted by the lecture.

It was about theater in the east for once! Cool!

A mere twenty minutes into class, the TV flickered to life and there was a collective groan as a few people leaned forward in their seats to see if the akuma was even worth heading to the nearest shelter for.

He barely even looked over. The people that had leaned forward had settled back into their seats pretty quickly, so it probably wasn’t anything major.

He smiled a little to himself. The best part of the new arrangement of everyone living together was that they all knew each other’s schedules. This meant he didn’t have to worry about being called upon during class --.

His phone vibrated in his bag.

Nope, he decided. He had just imagined that. Surely, they knew that he wasn’t able to do anything --.

His phone vibrated again. And again. And again.

The people around him were sending him annoyed looks.

He cursed in Arabic and pulled it from his bag.

Kittychat: It’s a water one and no one has any powerups. :(

Queenie: Carapace.

Foxyou: Spam him lol

Queenie: You’re right.

He scowled as his phone started blowing up thanks to the three of them.

Capot: im in class

Kittychat: Oh. Sorry. :(

Queenie: Don’t be sorry! We need him!

Foxyou: If we spam him enough he might get kicked out

Great. Now his phone was blowing up again, courtesy of only Rena and Chloe this time.

“Monsieur…” The professor began, looking through his attendance sheet momentarily before apparently decided it wasn’t worth the effort to find his name. “Would you like to share with the rest of the class?”

He sighed a little. Fine. Guess he’d do his stupid job or whatever.

“Sorry, my friend is new to Paris and she’s freaking out about the akuma. It’s her first one. Can I go check on her?”

“Sure. Just remember to do the homework. It’s due tonight at midnight.”

He nodded that he understood and reluctantly gathered his things. Within a few minutes he was out of class and transformed and on his way towards the body of water the akuma had claimed.

It just HAD to be a water one.

Hawkmoth probably did it on purpose, too. He loved being an inconvenience, Carapace wouldn’t put it past him to have figured out he was in a rush thanks to his running around that morning and deciding it was time to make a water akuma.

He sighed for what must have been the millionth time that day as he spotted the giant tentacle monster in the river.

Sure. Why not?

~~~

Taglist

@nathleigh @mialuvscats @sassakitty @th1s-1s-my-aesthet1c @blueslushgueen @woe-is-me0 @ladybug-182 @cas-and-their-refusal-to-write

#a miraculous tiktok account #carapace #nino lahiffe #ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #queen bee #chloe bourgeois #chat noir #adrien agreste #rena rouge #alya cesaire #miraculous team #miraculous fic #ml fic #chloenette #chlonette #adrino

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sunsoothed · 3 years ago

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muse

Jugyeong needs to amend her understanding of best friends.

han seojun\kang sujin | rated t | 3.3k words | college au, pining, jealousy | outsider pov

read on ao3

enjoy!

Im Jugyeong, frankly, has never seen someone quite like Han Seojun. He’s a muted, ephemeral kind of beauty, someone you get caught staring at in class, or someone you get caught staring at while eating, or someone you get caught staring at, period.

He’s also someone you stare at when they’re not around, which is why Jugyeong is only shocked out of her daze when from beside her, Sua says his name.

“Wasn’t Han Seojun supposed to be here?”

They’re sitting around a large table for lunch, with people Jugyeong only half-knows, because she’d been a fool to transfer colleges in her second year.

“Was he?” Someone opposite her pipes up. “I’ll call him.”

That makes Jugyeong raise her eyes. Someone so close to Han Seojun that they can just call him? When she looks up, it’s the one other female student in her statistics class.

Kang Sujin, was it?

Kang Sujin brings her phone to her ear, and a response seems to come within a moment, for she asks, “Did you just wake up?”

To which she must get a denial, because she then says, “You had lunch plans.”

Everyone’s peering suspiciously into Sujin’s space, so Jugyeong supposes it isn’t odd for her to do so, too.

Sudden concern fills Sujin’s voice. “What, did you have a late night?”

And then she’s back to plain informative. “Mmh. Not too far. I think we all have a good half an hour or so to spare.”

And Seojun must say something funny, because Sujin laughs, hums, and hangs up with a See you.

“He should be here soon. He decided to work late on a project last night because he didn’t have any classes this morning.”

There’s a collective ahh, we understand, before everyone gets back to their food and conversation. Sua places a slice of meat in her bowl, Sujin unearths a bottle of banana milk from somewhere, and on her other side, Taehoon slurps his ramyeon loudly. Under the table, Jugyeong’s heels click with the floor in anticipation.

When he does arrive, some ten-twelve minutes later, He’s beyond words. Hair slightly unkempt, wearing a beige coat and carrying another in the crook of his arm. He has a pink sweater on underneath, as much as Jugyeong can make out, and his white shoes radiate a slight dichotomy from his usual vibe.

“Shift,” He says, opposite Jugyeong, as he approaches them. Kang Sujin, who’d been close enough to call him, tilts her head back to catch sight of him.

She blinks, then juts her jaw to the space beside Taehoon.“There’s space there —”

“Just shift.” Seojun insists, an utterly adorable whine to his voice. Gosh, Jugyeong feels her cheeks reddening.

But Sujin only sighs and makes reluctant way for him. “Come, sit.”

Seojun gives a sort-of grimace, sort-of smile. They seem close. He hands her the coat he was carrying, too. “You left this behind.”

“Ah, right,” Sujin says, taking the coat from him. “No wonder I’ve been feeling chilly all day.”

He seems to have some quippy response prepared, but Sujin beats him to it.

“Your hair’s still wet,” She says. She holds a hand to his forehead, fingers brushing against the strands.

Seojun hums. “I was in the shower when you called.” He does nothing to remove her hand. They must be very close.

“Did I disturb you?”

He clicks his tongue, waving her worry away. He’s so attractive.

Sujin picks up her half-drunk banana milk. She hands it to him. “Here, by the way.”

She could’ve just bought him a new one. What was the point of this?

But Han Seojun takes a sip like it’s nothing, mouth on the straw that Sujin had drunk from. He swallows and pulls a face. “Tastes like your chapstick. I don't want it.”

Best friends, Jugyeong thinks. They must be best friends.

Unfazed, Sujin grins. “Lucky for you…” And she unearths another bottle of banana milk.“I have another one.”

Han Seojun smiles, half his mouth quirked up and a fond exasperation in his eyes. He easily accepts the bottle, pierces the straw through, and holds it up. “Cheers.”

“Change your position now!”

The party’s in full-swing. As full-swingy as it can get in Jugyeong’s cramped apartment, at least. It’s been a day since Jugyeong managed to meet Han Seojun. And now he’s here, in her apartment, and they’re playing Spin the Bottle, and there are very, very less people.

Taehoon groans, the bottle having landed on him and empty air for the second time. “This game is stupid —”

“Shut up,” Sua implores. “We’re all having fun. Who’s next?”

“Spin it!”

So Sua spins the bottle, and they wait in anticipation for it to land on someone. It’s Kang Sujin.

“How lucky…” Jugyeong hears Taehoon say under his breath. Then she looks up. It’s Kang Sujin and her.

“If you’re uncomfortable,” Sujin starts, hand already on her shot glass to allow Jugyeong to skip the turn. But Jugyeong shakes her head.

“I’ve just… never kissed a girl before.” The confession is sudden, but no one is perturbed.

“It’s the same as kissing a boy,” Sujin supplies oh-so-helpfully. She leans in, and Jugyeong, heart hammering, leans in too, and it’s over in a second.

“You don’t take this stuff seriously, do you?” Jugyeong asks, a sudden energy in her. She meets Sujin’s eyes.

“Not at all.” Sujin smiles.

The game continues. “Your turn to spin.”

Jugyeong gulps, suddenly in need of a sobering smack to the head because what the fuck —

“Sujin again!” Some errant voice declares. Sujin and Seojun.

They seemed pretty close that morning, so maybe this isn’t a big deal? But Sujin takes a shot, and Jugyeong’s confused now. They shared that banana milk this morning, didn’t they? Possibly tipsy, Jugyeong asks, “Hey, why’re you drinking —”

It takes Han Seojun a second, but then he says, “Ah, that,” like this is all making sense to him, and he, too, takes a shot.

And then they kiss — no, maul each other’s faces, and it’s the most erotic and the most disgusting thing Jugyeong’s seen in her life. When they pull apart, completely cool, Seojun wipes a trail of spit and alcohol from his chin and licks his fingers. Oh god. Jugyeong’s abdomen hollows.

There is an understandably long silence.

Eventually, Taehoon swallows, and says, weakly, “You two…”

“It’s a thing we do,” Sujin informs, nonchalant.

“I thought you said you weren’t together.”

“We aren’t.”

“Home, now?”

Slurred, Sujin replies, “Mmm.”

Jugyeong catches the conversation on the periphery, pulling her own shoes on in the outroom of the restaurant. It was a good choice these people had made; the food was good, the wine was mild, and the effects were a pleasant buzz.

“Come,” Seojun’s even more pleasant enters her earshot. “Let’s put on our shoes…”

Jugyeong likes to think he’s talking to her. But leaning against the wall, she can see, with clarity, that he’s addressing only Sujin. Oh, woe, Jugyeong sighs. She watches Sujin’s attempt at balance while drunk, watches her try and slip on her shoes, try, so considerately, because Seojun’s watching over her. She sees him, fond, as he slips his fingers beside Sujin’s and helps her slide her feet in. She gulps.

“Are you taking Sujin home?” Alas, there must always be an unwelcome distraction. Jugyeong can’t remember this guy’s name, but it must be as irritating as his face.

Seojun must feel the same, for he replies with a much-too-cordial, much-too-gruff yes.

“You’re familiar with where she lives?” The guy questions, throwing his weight around. He leans obstructively over the wall against which Sujin stands. “She’s drunk, would she trust you enough?”

It’s an awkward situation. Seojun is grimacing, and Jugyeong, considerably removed by context but very much involved by space, grimaces as well. Seojun seems to have a non-threatening reply prepared, but Sujin beats him to it, aggression and distraught where she stands, now, shaky.

“Yah, Park - Park whatever your name is, how dare you say that to Seojun?”

And this Park whatever-your-name is opens his mouth in affront, drunk breath diffusing around the room. “I —”

“Sujin-ah —”

Sujin continues. “This bastard. You don’t know anything about us.”

She looks like a kitten whose fur is standing on edge, anger in the face of fear.

“He doesn’t,” Seojun coaxes, still-rational. Jugyeong has the sudden urge to laugh.

He tries again, hand firm on Sujin’s shoulder.“Let’s just go —”

But Sujin doesn’t budge. She holds an accusatory finger to the guy’s face, which has, somehow, turned a nauseated shade, and declares, “We’re best friends, okay?”

Best friends, Jugyeong continues to ruminate, some mornings later as they meet up to study. She watches Seojun with his messy hair tapping the end of his pencil against the sheet he’s working on. He looks distracted. There’s also something very distracting about him, and Jugyeong’s sure it’s caught more than her eye. Seojun’s eye, that it. He’s wearing kajal, and he’s sporting some… averagely-done smokey-eye look, which she’s just itching to correct.

Seojun plants the pencil behind his ear and picks up his phone, oblivious to Jugyeong’s inner turmoil, though she sits opposite him and very much in his view. He’s typing something, a light furrow between his brows. Then he puts down his phone, and looks at the sheet he’d been sketching on for the better part of the hour, and sighs with great displeasure.

Jugyeong sets her own eyes to her work, a little guiltily. She shouldn’t be watching him like this.

Eyes on the table, she sees Seojun pull out a different pencil from his pencil case and get to work. Hands deft, hands smooth, he’s drawing arching strokes when the quiet of the studio is interrupted by the door opening. Almost everyone turns at the sound on instinct, then drop their attention once they notice another student. Jugyeong registers that it’s Sujin. She also registers that Seojun hasn’t glanced up from his work.

He does, then, when Sujin first plucks the pencil he’d tucked behind his ear, second deposits a thermos upon the desk.

“For your throat,” she greets. She waves to Jugyeong. Jugyeong waves back.

Seojun nods. He applies his finishing touches to the sketch, then looks up. “Thanks, Sujin-ah.”

“No need,” Sujin hums. She places the displaced pencil on the table, ruffles Seojun’s already unkempt hair, and waves goodbye to Jugyeong.

Jugyeong waves back.

Shoes, again, Jugyeong’s place, again. It’s a pattern, she thinks. Or wishes to think, with finality, but unfortunately things involving Han Seojun are always demanding to be overthought. He had shown up in some flowy palazzo pants and a crop-top that Sua swore she had seen Sujin wear once. He had looked good.

Some considerable amount of shots later, however, his hair had been styled out f its artful mess to a regular mess, and his lipstick had smudged from the amount of people he had kissed. And Jugyeong had stood, watching, as her turn never came. And as, customarily, Seojun and Sujin drank out of each other’s mouths.

And here, again, she watches, as Sujin helps Seojun put his shoes on.

“You sure you can walk in that?” She’s asking, kneeling on the floor, very much proposal-like. In one hand she holds the heels Seojun had sauntered in wearing.

Seojun hiccups. “Probably… not.”

Sujin smiles up at him, fond, shakes her head. She turns to the side, glances somewhat into the apartment. Catches Jugyeong’s eye. “Hey, Jugyeong, do you have any flats?”

Jugyeong snaps out of her reverie. Her mouth hangs open for a moment, uncomprehending, before she processes the words. “I do, just a moment.”

Han Seojun is borrowing her shoes. Jugyeong fishes out her best pair of flats, a sleek black pair that hasn’t seen the light of day for a good few months. She tucks her hair behind her ears before walking out of her room; for what, she doesn’t know.

Gulping, heart racing, Jugyeong hands the shoes to Sujin. “Here.”

Sujin takes them with a somewhat distracted smile, one hand reaching for the shoes, one hand keeping Seojun upright. “Thanks, Jugyeong.”

Jugyeong finds herself gulping once again, watching Sujin crouch down and slip the flats onto Seojun’s feet, familiarity evident in her actions. She doesn’t entertain that line of thought any further.

And then Han Seojun speaks, voice off in the most adorable way, a little high, well past tipsy. “What, what — are you going propose to me?”

Sujin finds amusement in that. She smiles, laughs, stands up to clap a hand on Seojun’s shoulder. “Not yet.”

Seojun nods. He leans against Sujin, expectant of her support, Jugyeong looks away as Sujin wraps a hand around his waist.

“You can —” she clears her throat and tries again, “You can leave his shoes here,” Jugyeong suggests, holding out an awkward hand.

Sujin brushes her off, not rudely, more preoccupied with the very drunk Seojun-like mass on her shoulder. “It’s fine, I’ll carry them back,” she says. “Thanks, again.”

“Anytime,” Jugyeong whispers, long after they’ve left her house.

“Would you like some breakfast?”

That has to be a pickup line. Jugyeong blushes terribly.

“Ah- ah, that would be really nice, actually.”

Seojun’s ever-polite, guiding her into the house and pulling a chair at the kitchen island out for her. It’s not a big space, but it’s well-maintained. Either he’s well-off or he’s taken a loan he’ll need to spend a good half of his life paying back.

“Come, sit at the table.”

Jugyeong nods and takes a grateful seat. Seojun busies himself with something steaming on the gas, his well-dressed back facing her. He’s worn those skimpy white blouses before, and they really complement his frame.

“We don’t eat with too much spice,” He calls over, stirring the... stew? Jugyeong isn’t sure. “I hope that’s fine.”

“That’s okay,” She immediately reassures. “I don’t mind.” We…?

The we comes in the form of one Kang Sujin, trudging to the kitchen in an oversized t-shirt and nothing else, immediately locating Seojun and holding him in a death grip from behind. Jugyeong wonders how he’s moving with Sujin clinging to him like that.

Finally, the koala speaks, voice grogging. “Jun-ah….”

“You’re up?” Seojun hums, unperturbed. Must be a common occurrence, Jugyeong thinks, with her already stilted hopes. How wonderful.

“Barely.” Sujin exhales, arms loosening their hold slightly. She rests the side of her head against Seojun’s back, eyes blinking open to Jugyeong.

“Hello, Jugyeong.” She says. “Good morning?”

Taken aback, Jugyeong just about manages to reply, “Good - Good morning.”

“Mm.” Sujin nods back, solemn. “If you say so.”

Seojun huffs out a laugh at that. “You nutcase,” He says affectionately. “Go sit at the table. Breakfast’s almost ready.”

Sujin nods again, dragging herself to the kitchen island, sitting beside Jugyeong. “You guys have that project thing, don’t you?”

Jugyeong hums, now in safer waters. “It’s an installation piece.”

“What are you…” Sujin leans on her arms, “What are you installing?”

Seojun laughs, again, affectionate, again.

“It’s not exactly that,” Jugyeong tries to explain. “It’s an artwork. Seojun is doing the woodwork and I’m painting.”

“So you’re not installing it anywhere?”

“I suppose we are,” Jugyeong supposes. “It’ll need to find a place in the studio and then, hopefully, the exhibition.”

Sujin nods along, having understood it in her own way. Seojun sets two bowls of noodles and stew in front of them by then.

Jugyeong intends to thank him, but she’s cut-off by Sujin gasping, “Is that mine?”

She clutches the sleeve of Seojun’s white blouse. Seojun, in turn, grabs a fistful of her t-shirt. “Is that mine?”

“Fair,” Sujin acquiesces, letting go first. “Fair enough.”

Seojun smiles a cordial smile, then sits opposite Sujin.

“Do you have less crockery?” Jugyeong finds herself asking instead, for Seojun’s eating right out of Sujin’s bowl.

He shakes his head with his mouth full, then swallows and answers, “This one’s just a bitch about doing the dishes. Less dishes used, less dishes to wash.”

“That’s not it,” Sujin weakly protests, picking up the chopsticks beside her, finally gaining some life. “It’s saving water.”

“You shouldn’t make fun of such a serious thing —”

“I’m not making fun of anything —”

These two, Jugyeong marvels. They really are something, aren’t they?

It’s a considerably slow day. Jugyeong’s managed to get her upcoming deadlines pushed back, so she can procrastinate her work some more, and maybe accompany Sua when she’s out for a smoke. That is, of course, what Jugyeong assumes she does.

Sua is standing with the others on the terrace, a semi circle formed between them.

“I heard about that Min Jongho, but you’re saying Oh Namsung was also involved? Isn’t that going to blow up in his father’s face?”

Jugyeong takes a step closer. She can recognise those names, that’s those two irritating guys who usually sit at the far end of the workshop.

“Possession of drugs is too serious of a thing for his father to escape from,” Taehoon chimes in. He looks up, sighing, when he catches sight of Jugyeong.

“Oh, Jugyeong!”

She meets his eyes, innocent. “Hm?”

“Come join us,” Sua beckons, already trying to reach for her arm. Jugyeong takes a step forward, absorbed into their circle.

“Did you hear about what Min Jongho did?”

She sakes her head. “No clue.”

“He was caught with marijuana,” Sujin explains, and oof, Jugyeong can’t avoid her now, can she?

“That’s… pretty serious,” she says. “How did people find out?”

“Someone snitched,” one of the others hisses. “He had a party the other night — remember the one where that fucker got that cheap alcohol? Like ten people got the worst hangovers — wait, that’s not the point — they were smoking up, someone found them and secretly reported it.”

“I think there’s more to it than we’re seeing,” Sujin diffuses. “It’s not possible that that was it. No one has those kind of morals around us.”

“What do you know,” Taehoon refutes. “You’re not an art student, Sujin.”

“My apologies for not having such an outlook on the world, your lordship,” she mocks, face intentionally one of surface politeness. “What do you mean you’re not an art student? Seojunnie’s always dragging me into his work.”

“That’s because you’re his muse —”

“Convenient human subject, you mean,” Sujin cuts off, still good-natured.

Jugyeong gets it, that kind of attention she must receive from Seojun may have the potential to be exhausting. Of course Jugyeong gets it. Of course she does. There’s no reason that she needs to stop looking at Sujin’s face —

And arrives the subject of their bootlegged discussion. Han Seojun, a trudging beauty, a tragic beauty, skirt stained and hands freshly-washed. He zeros in on his muse — sorry, convenient human subject — falling without grace against her back, his arms encircling her from behind.

Jugyeong gulps.

“You okay?” Sujin asks, concerned, the kind that only fills her words when Seojun’s around. She turns, letting him breathe out against her neck, lightly ruffles his hair as she hugs him back.

Seojun exhales again. “Mmm.”

“Not sounding like it,” she prompts. Her voice is so soft, now. No brashness that had lain aflame when she argued earlier, nor the stunted amusement when she judged her surroundings. Does one always change so, Jugyeong wonders, when one loves?

“Just give me a minute,” Seojun says, hugging Sujin tighter. The little semi circle of theirs breaks apart, leaving the two to themselves, and Jugyeong reluctantly takes her eyes off Sujin rubbing Seojun’s back.

When she walks, half a beat behind everyone else, she can somewhat hear Sujin’s home voice. She can hear Seojun-ah? and she can hear Hey, hey, Jun-ah. Let’s go somewhere quiet, hm? and she can hear them go somewhere quiet.

And when she skips back, citing her forgetfulness and her phone, which she knows she left behind in the studio, she catches the dregs of a conversation that must be second nature.

“What’s wrong?” from Sujin.

“It’s stupid, I just… I’m so overwhelmed.” from Seojun.

“Ah, Junjun, seriously, that’s nothing to be ashamed of. Come here.” from some half-way point that’s worn and torn.

Jugyeong holds her bitter smile all the way back to the studio, and realises, only belatedly as she watches Seojun walk back in, that she hadn’t considered him in this equation at all.

She had just been looking at Sujin.

#true beauty #tvn true beauty #true beauty fanfic #han seojun #kang sujin #seojun x sujin #junjin #whovie writes

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emy-loves-you · 4 years ago

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Useless Gays: The Prequel Chapter 2

Thick as Thieves

Chapter 1 | Masterlist | Chapter 3

So this chapter is divided into 3 flashbacks: The first one has Roman at 5 years old, 10 in the second one, and somewhere between 20 and 24 in the third one (after high school, before WNaUG). For those of you who are reading this and not WNaUG (which makes no sense but okay), Rebecca/ReeRee is Remus' deadname. Remus and Roman are fraternal twins, with Remus being slightly older. Remus will be using the name Rebecca and she/her pronouns because: 1.) Remus didn't realize that he was a boy until he was 13, so he wouldn't use male pronouns yet. 2.) This chapter is all in Roman's POV. Roman never knew that Remus transitioned, since he ran away before telling Roman. So, until someone tells him, Roman will always use she/her pronouns when describing ReeRee.

“Come on, Ro! It’s not that high!” She laughed, striking a dramatic pose.

“Yes, it is!” 8-year-old Roman yelled, balling his hands up at his sides. She knew he was afraid of heights! Roman started crying, and he glared at the bottom of the tree. He was such a crybaby. Why couldn’t he be brave like her?

She stopped laughing. Roman looked up and saw her smiling softly at him, no longer teasing. “(Sigh) Here, give me your hand. We’ll go up together.” She crouched on the tree branch, using one hand to steady herself and lowered the other one towards Roman.

Roman frowned, eyeing the hand in suspicion. “You’re not gonna drop me, right?”

She raised her arm to place over her heart. “I swear as your big sister-”

“By six minutes!”

“I won’t drop you. Or pretend to drop you. Or shake the branch. Or drop down and leave you up here-”

“Okay, I get it!” Roman yelled, stomping his foot.

She smiled again, the type of smile that Roman wishes he saw more often. It was the smile that said I love you. You mean the world to me. I will always protect you. “I would never use your fear for my own amusement. You know that, Ro. And if you fall, I’ll catch you. I promise.” She extended her hand again. “Now get your butt up here! I have somethin’ to show ya!”

Roman grabbed her hand, and there was a scary woosh before he was in the tree. He buried his head in her hair, so scared. We’re so high up and we’re gonna fall fall fall fall fa-

“Shh,” her hand rubbed against his back, grounding him. “We’re fine, we’re safe, nothin’s gonna happen I swear.” They sat like that for a few minutes, Romans sobs slowly turning into sniffles. She slowly pulled away, using her hands to keep Roman steady. “Better?” He nodded. “Good. Now look.” She pointed somewhere off to his left. He forced himself to look away from her face, his fears resurfacing. He took a deep breath before turning towards his left.

“Woah.” There, on the neighboring branch, was a bird’s nest. There were two eggs, and Roman watched as cracks slowly formed along the eggs. The two birds were nearly identical, with the bird on the right hatching seconds before its sibling. “They’re so pretty.”

“That’s us.” She relaxed on the branch, her back leaning up against the tree. “Birds of a feather flock together. And we’ll stay together, even when our wings are plucked and our dreams are shattered. Twins forever, right?”

He opened his mouth to respond. “Righ-”

“WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!” Roman shrieked in fright, suddenly losing his grip on the branch. He screamed as he started to fall.

“Ro!” Suddenly, arms were wrapped around him, and he landed on top of her. “Ah! God that hurt! Are you okay Ro!”

Ro nodded. “Yeah, I’m okay.” He got up and gasped. “Your arm!” Her arm was twisted from where it was crushed underneath him.

She went to move it and hissed in pain. “I think it’s broken.” She smiled, but Roman could see tears in her eyes. “At least I caught you! I told you that you’d be fine!” Before Roman could respond, his mother marched up to them. Momma immediately began to scold them, only noticing her broken arm when she went to grab her and she screamed in pain.

Roman was told to clean his room while they went to the doctor. When they returned, she had a lime green cast on her arm. Momma took away their favorite toys (her dolls and Roman’s foam sword) before telling them to clean up the kitchen. Roman grabbed a red sharpie, signing his name on her cast. She smirked. “Your ‘m’ looks like a ‘v.’”

“Does not!”

“Does too!”

“Does not!”

“Does too!”

“Does not!” She realized what had happened an laughed. “Good one, Ro.” She used her good hand to ruffle his hair. Her special smile was back, the one that she only gave him.

He giggled, leaning into her touch. “Thanks, ReeRee!”

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Boom!

Roman shrieked, pulling his blanket over his head. He could hear the heavy rain against his window. He loved rain (he stomped in puddles while she made mud pies) but he hated thunder. It was so loud and he could never tell when it would-

Boom!

He shrieked again. He flushed in embarrassment. He was 10, for God’s sake! He shouldn’t be afraid of something as silly as thunder! His sister had gotten over these stupid fears years ago! His mind wandered to his sister. Can I?

He shook his head. It’s really late at night, she’s probably sleeping. When they were younger, Roman would go stay in her room during thunderstorms (he’d tried going to his parents room once, but they yelled at him and sent him back to his room). But that was when they were younger. They were 10 now, and she kicked him out last time he went into her room uninvited.

Boom!

Roman jumped, falling off of his bed. That’s it! He quickly grabbed his Dragon Witch (a stuffed animal that Uncle Terrence gave him for his 7th birthday) and ran out of his room. He made his way down the hall until he reached the pink door. Roman scrunched up his nose. His sister hated pink. She had asked their father if they could repaint her door green, and he yelled at her. He opened the door, stepping into her room. Since their parents never went into their rooms anymore, she had redecorated it. The pink walls were covered in drawings of green tentacles. The floor was filthy, with dirty clothes and torn drawings strewn about. Roman was surprised to see his sister awake, sketching a new tentacle drawing. “Thought you might show up.” She said, setting down her sketchpad. She patted part of the bed next to her. “Come on, I don’t bite.”

Roman hurried over, diving under the blankets. He shrieked as another clap of thunder hit. He felt a hand in his hair and tensed. The hand paused for a moment, before slowly rubbing Roman’s scalp. He relaxed, leaning into the touch. He always loved his sister, but he loved this version of her the most. When she realized that he was actually scared, not startled or mildly uncomfortable. She wouldn’t tease him or ask unnecessary questions. Sometimes she would twist together a tale from nothing, concocting a story of pain and hardship, of love and trust. Other times she wouldn’t speak, offering silent comfort and protection against the world around them. He sighed, finally drifting off to dreamless slumber. The last thing he knew before darkness took him was the press of her lips to his forehead as he drifted off. “Goodnight, Ro.”

Goodnight, Ree...

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“Ro, you gotta wake up!”

Roman woke up with a gasp, his chest heavy. He forced himself to breathe, shaking like a leaf. He felt a hand in his hair, and he immediately lunged, burying his face in her shoulder. He sobbed, listening to the gentle shushing sounds as he was rocked back and forth. He felt a second hand on his back, and he started babbling. “ReeRee, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should’ve listened to you. I should’ve trusted you.”

“Oh, sweety.” Roman jerked up. Patton stared back, tears running down his cheeks. He felt the hand on his back retreat, and he grabbed it, bringing Logan closer. Patton’s hand pressed against his cheek, and Roman suddenly realized that he was crying.

“’m sorry.” He muttered, wiping his eyes.

“It’s okay, sweety.” Patton assured him, pulling Roman into a side hug. He felt Logan do the same on his left. “Do you wanna talk about it?” Roman shook his head, still feeling slightly despondent. “Okay. Do you wanna stay up and cuddle?” Roman nodded, sighing when he felt Patton’s fingers in his hair. In less than an hour, they would all drift back into a dreamless sleep. A few hours from now, they would each go to work, a cheerful facade in place. But for now, they stayed there, silent tears streaking down their faces. For Patton and Logan, it was for the pain their lover was going through. For Roman, it was for the sister that he had pushed away,

You said you would always be there to catch me, ReeRee. But I pushed you away. Now I’m so scared that I’ll fall again. What am I going to do without you there to catch me?

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#useless gays #sanders sides fic #roman sanders #remus sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders

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