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bvidzsoo · 2 days ago

Text

Through your colours

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: artist!Kim Hongjoong x barista!reader

੭ Warning: recreational drug use (weed), alcohol consumption, swearing ੭ Word count: 11k ੭ Rating: nc-17 ੭ Genre: fluff, angst-ish, slice of life, strangers to lovers, a hint of simp Joong? post university setting ੭ Summary: A broke barista and a broke artist meet in a student infested dingy pub, what do they have in common? The desire to make something great of themselves, to live a fulfilled life. But first impressions can go wrong, deterring people from each other. You're probably lucky that's not how your story with Hongjoong goes, though.

A/N: Hello, hello, my lovelies! I present you another story that was supposed to be a drabble but instead turned into...a smaller oneshot?? I consider anything that's below 15k a drabble because my oneshots just go over 20k all the time, save me! This idea came on a random whim while my pinterest suggested three photos lol, and it took me some time to write it, but it's here at last. Your feedback is greatly appreciated, let me know what you thought of this little story, and I hope you enjoy it! divider

Gustav Klimt had once, sometime during the nineteenth century, stated that, “Art is a line around your thoughts”. This could be interpreted many ways, of course, but for an artist it was just as plain and simple as Mr Klimt had said. Whatever was on your mind, you could give it life by putting it on a piece of paper by the brush of ink and feather against the parchment, or by the swift twist of one’s wrist as their brush coloured their canvas. Art comes in many forms, many thoughts, and many interpretations. After all, everyone relates to it based by their own experiences, based on the emotions they feel and have felt before…and overall, their capacity of seeing beyond what’s shoved in front of their eyes. Maybe that’s why Hongjoong would stare at a painting or picture for hours on end without growing tired. He liked to see everything, he wanted to understand every stroke of brush, or why the lightning fell in that specific way on the item in the picture. Hongjoong wanted to feel the same emotions the author of the creation had felt while creating their piece. It helped him draw inspiration, expand his horizons towards new possibilities. Hongjoong liked new challenges as long as they were about his art. In life, he preferred the steady and sure lifestyle, the one that was predictable enough that it wouldn’t send him into an existential crisis over the smallest inconvenience.

Hongjoong needed order in his life since his art was all over the place, judged by many and often misunderstood. He didn’t paint just for the fun of it, sure, there were passion projects he started on a whim without much of a goal in mind, and usually those were well received by his professors, by his colleagues. But whenever Hongjoong wanted to say something through his art, he’d get scrutinized for it. He yet had to find that one person that saw beyond what others called a mess. He’s never thrived for attention or validation, but it had gotten lonely after a while when he realised nobody really understood him. He felt like he was the odd one even in a crowd full of odd people. He’d always been different, more open-minded and receptive to the changes in the world, and he’d always been judged for it. Here, instead of being frowned upon due to his character, he was sometimes ignored because his art was either dull or not good enough. Nobody seemed to understand that art is relative and subjective, that whatever lay on the canvas made by Hongjoong was his and would always be. That he had dipped his brush into a touch of colour from his soul, displaying it for the world to see on the once blank canvas. He became vulnerable for them and yet nobody had appreciated it yet. And so, Hongjoong got used to not being seen for his art, but for who he was.

Quirky with questionable fashion taste to many, bold because he wasn’t afraid to try out new styles—much like with his paintings—and intimidating because no matter how many times he tried out something new, he’d instantly make it his, owning whatever concept he had in mind. Hongjoong knew not everyone was against him out there, but it was easy to fall hostage to such thoughts when he was alone. It would make sense for an artist to have a mind clouded by questions and rarely answers, a mind that worked too fast and yet never good enough. Doubts and fears pulling one down, Hongjoong loved expressing it through his paintings, his hand nothing but a guide to the brush clutched tightly between his fingers, calling out to him even when he chose to step away. Hongjoong was in it for life, and he wondered whether the weeping willow tree by the river bank in his framed painting was a premonition for how his life would look like.

The bar was busy like every other night in this student-infested town. It wasn’t even a surprise anymore, you should have known better than to wear your boots with high heels. There were no seconds to waste and even less time for breaks between preparing drinks, cleaning the bar, and running around the room to clean the tables too. Nobody wanted their hands sticky because someone had previously spilt their drink, and you were more than ready to clock out for the night. The only problem was, however, that you still had three hours left of your shift. You sighed as you averted your eyes from the clock, realising you hadn’t started preparing the drink the drunk college student had asked for on the other side of the bar. His eyes were glossy and he was swaying in his spot, you debated filling his cup with water rather than Vodka, but you couldn’t risk getting a complaint since your boss was a stinky little fucker. Your hands worked fast, and years spent doing this kind of work were showing as you did a few tricks, hoping you’d get a nice tip. You doubted the college guy would leave a huge tip, if anything at all, but at least you tried. It was all about trying in places like this one. Trying to stay calm when a customer was rude, trying to remain sane when night after night the DJ played the same playlist for the drunken students, trying to smile and hide the fact that you hated when these frat boys flirted with you. And also try and hide the fact that you were fed up with people, and needed at least a month away from civilisation.

But if one wanted to achieve something in life, one had to work for it to happen since it wouldn’t fall from the sky. Going abroad and starting a new life over there wasn’t for free, and it especially wouldn’t happen overnight. You were well aware of that, that’s why you were working day and night, taking up shifts that were probably too long to be healthy. But the dream you had in mind demanded such sacrifices, and if it meant working hard right now for a comfortable life in the future, you were willing to spend your nights sleepless and surrounded by annoying college students. You had been like them once, after all, but that was a few years ago, and since then, the harsh reality has awoken you. What was the purpose of a degree you couldn’t do anything with? Yeah, you could’ve laughed at yourself, but then it would soon turn into hysterical crying and you weren’t strong enough to deal with such emotions. You’ve cried enough, it was time you took action now. You sighed as another rush of bodies crowded the bar, asking for shots and long cocktails. You weren’t a fancy place by any means, but you served the usual sweet cocktails that could be found in every other place. Your hands worked fast as you catered to everyone’s likes, your coworker, Hanni, was somewhere lost between the students as she had gone to clean up the tables. And even in your rush, it seemed like you couldn’t satisfy everyone. It shouldn’t have phased you, but you’ve had a rough day today.

“Hey, babe, think you could work those hands faster, maybe?” You ignored the question and smiled as a group of girls paid for their pink cocktails, leaving a bigger tip than most men would. You felt grateful and felt your smile turn genuine when the tallest in the group winked at you before they became part of the rowdy crowd again. Then, you could face your impatient customer. He didn’t look like a student, way too old to be in a crowd filled with students, but who were you to judge? Some people go to college at a later age, maybe he wanted to get the full student experience. Although, you doubted a thirty-year-old had anything in common with young adults on the brink of maturing, if they managed to mature during their upper-level study days.

“What can I get for you?” Your voice was raised since the music was booming, and unfortunately, you also had to lean over the counter to hear the man better. For some reason, that made the man smirk as he leaned forward as well, eyeing you up as if you were a piece of meat. You ignored it as your teeth ground together, you’ve seen men like him before, he wasn’t the first to act like this and you knew he wouldn’t be the last one either.

“How about…you, sugar?” Your expression didn’t budge as his smirk became shit eating as if he had accomplished anything by saying that. You waited, without blinking or reacting to what he’s said, hoping he’d catch on that he wasn’t hilarious nor flirty.

“Don’t we all wish to have a piece of the pretty barista?” That managed to throw you off as your head whipped to the side, eyebrows furrowing as you just now noticed the newcomer. He was…well, something else for sure. He wore no casual or ordinary clothes, nothing you could compare to the annoying frat boys or just the other dudes with a regular fashion sense. His hair was dark but it looked a little fried, as if it had been bleached already one too many times before. His white blouse was loose and tucked in at the waist, his black pants wide and reaching below his ankles. A thick belt was secured around the guy’s petit waist, and if you looked harder, you swore you could see a dark blue bow tied to it. His brown vest seemed to elevate the outfit even more, the pleated brown choker sitting at the base of his throat with a few other silver chains, a ruby pendant hitting his pecks as he was leaning against the counter lazily. His hip was jutted out and his painted nails tapped against the side of his head, cat-like eyes blinking slowly as he watched you. The hat he wore looked something like you’ve only seen in Peaky Blinders, and for a second, you almost chuckled. He looked peculiar but not in a negative sense, it’s just that you haven’t seen someone like him stumble inside the pub before. He didn’t seem to belong with the crowd and that would’ve been something you’d appreciate on any other day than today.

“I don’t think we were talking to you, no?” The cocky man in front of you raised a mocking eyebrow at the other guy, and you rolled your eyes for a second. But before you could answer, the other guy did for you.

“You threatened my game is better than yours?” The artsy-looking guy asked with a chuckle, his tone was more on the higher side, and you found yourself not irked by it too much. But you weren’t here to have men measure their cocks by who can get the barista’s phone number faster, so you interrupted them before they could piss you off even more.

“Listen, fellas, I don’t have all night. What do you want?” Your tone was sharp, straight to the point, and shut down all attempts at flirting as the man in front of you scoffed, shooting a dirty look at the peculiar-looking one. You tilted your head as the older man finally faced you, trying to downplay his irritation as he plastered on a charming smile again. It made your jaw tick again, but you said nothing more.

“Do you have whiskey?” You were already reaching for the bottle of Whiskey before the man was finished talking, your other hand grabbing a glass as Hanni finally returned to the bar, her tray filled with dirty glasses.

“I’ll just wash these and come help.” She said as she passed by you and you nodded, filling the man’s glass with ice and whiskey, not too much but not too little either. Who even drinks Whiskey in a place like this one? But you didn’t care as long as he’d be out of your hair, so you placed the glass on the counter, but before you could tell the guy how much it was, he had already slid a bill on the counter, sauntering away. You grabbed it and pushed it into your fanny pack, taking a step back to take a deep breath. You could do this, Hanni was back and maybe you could ask her to cover for you for five minutes. A bathroom break was allowed at any time, after all. Your small moment, however, was interrupted by a scoff. You blinked your eyes open and looked towards where the sound came from, eyes narrowing when you realised the other guy was still lingering around.

“What a pig, he didn’t even tip you.” You had to agree with his slurred words but instead walked over with an impassive expression. You weren’t here to be nice or to make friends, and you never failed to make it clear to your customers. These entitled dudes thought they could get your number and get in your pants with just a few—fake—nice words, you could confidently say you hated them all and that they made you wish you never again encountered their species. But alas, that wouldn’t happen tonight, so you headed over to the pompous guy, raising an eyebrow. He was intriguing, you couldn’t deny that, but you also knew not to mingle with guys who frequented the pub. So, even if one sparked your interest, at the end of the day, you’d still walk home alone and relish in the quiet of your room.

“What can I get for you?” You tried to keep your tone level as your hip pressed into the counter, feet aching now even more. You were ready to chuck your damn boots at the wall and call it a night, but as Hanni flashed you her typical sweet smile, you knew you couldn’t leave her alone in the wolf's den. She was too sweet and too naïve, smiling and laughing along to the shitty jokes of the frat boys who were eyeing her up with little regard for the fact that she was visibly uncomfortable.

“Something sweet like you.” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, telling yourself to keep your cool. He wasn’t saying anything offensive, unlike many other men, he just kept calling you sweet and pretty. That could be considered even nice, but not tonight.

“The menu is literally behind me, you can choose anything from it.” You pointed a finger behind yourself, where you knew the menu was hung high on the wall so that everyone could see it. The peculiar guy just gave you a look of confusion before looking past you, blinking his eyes lazily once again. You tapped your fingers against the counter, waiting for his choice, glad that you could take a breather now that nobody was crowding to get their drinks refilled. Hanni whizzed past you when she noticed a smaller group of girls approaching, her smile reaching her ears and already talking to them, beckoning them closer. Hanni was an excellent barista, she kept her customers entertained and always engaged with them…unlike you, but that’s why your duo worked so well. You were the stoic one and she was the sunshine, but you were both quick on your feet so your boss couldn’t complain.

“Uh, I’ll take a Cosmopolitan.” The guy finally decided and you quirked an eyebrow, grabbing the shaker.

“That’s not sweet.” It was unlike you to make conversation, but the words were on the tip of your tongue so you couldn’t ignore them. The guy chuckled, letting his elbows rest on the counter as he placed his chin in his palms. Your eyes raised for a second to look at him, and you were taken aback by how cute he looked. But as he blinked slowly again, a small smile spreading onto his lips as he watched you, you quickly focused your attention on his Cosmo.

“I know, I was just trying to make you feel better.” He sighed, tracing a manicured finger against the dirty counter. You had to clean that too. As you grabbed some olive to stash on a toothpick, you followed his finger with your eyes and noticed the two silver and shiny rings on his finger, his nail done a neon yellow with a black smiley face painted on top of it.

“What do you even know…” You scoffed to yourself, placing the martini glass on the counter for the guy to take. He was still looking at you, his eyes hazy, and you allowed yourself to take in his features. He had a petite and sharp nose, pretty and well-fitting with his sharp jawline and otherwise intimidating eyes if it wasn’t for the smile in them. His lips were more plump than thin with a pretty Cupid’s bow, slightly pouty as he gave you a small frown.

“Well, I bet you don’t plan on wasting your life away here.” The way he spoke had an airy feel to it, as if he wasn’t really thinking before speaking, “And by the looks of it, it seems as if your degree didn’t take you too far as of now, which is not a big deal, people change their minds all the time.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as the guy reached for his Cosmo, your fingers brushing together since you hadn’t retracted your hand yet. You ignored how warm his fingers felt, the softness of them as they lightly brushed against yours, “It’s just sad to see talented people waste their lives away in places like this one, you know? I mean, we all go to college to make something of ourselves, but then we end up in a dimly lit and smelly bar, selling alcohol to entitled pricks, forced to listen to their attempts at flirting, or them berating us for ‘not’ doing our job. Sure, it’s honest work, but at the end of the day, when you walk home after an ungodly long shift, you still hate yourself, so…”

Something in you broke at his last sentence, making you gulp hard. You still hate yourself, the guy had said with the most easy-going expression on his face, a slight smile pulling at his lips as he continued to blink lazily at you. What did he even know when he was clearly wearing designer clothes to a pub where alcohol could be spilt on you, among many other things? Who was he to assume you couldn’t do anything with your degree, rubbing it in your face that he knew people ended up like this when he clearly came from a rich background with all those accessories on him, his tone airy and almost mocking. Your jaw clenched again as you realised you had tears in your eyes, and your hand came down harshly on the counter as the guy slipped a bill towards you, way over the price of his damn Cosmopolitan.

“Go fuck yourself.” You snapped as you threw the change back at him, watching his expression fall, his eyebrows raising comically high. You didn’t sit around to listen to him trying to get your attention again, you brushed past Hanni and leaned down to tell her that you needed five minutes. She gave you a worried look before nodding, letting you head to the bathroom as a few tears spilt down your cheeks. Today was complete shit, you couldn’t wait to get home and ignore all the responsibilities and problems you had. You were doing this for a better future, this was just a small fragment of your life, and it wouldn’t last forever. At least you really hoped so.

You released a long sigh as the cool air hit your face, eyes stinging from the sudden coldness as the red backdoor slammed shut behind you. Hanni and you kept telling your boss to change the hinges, but he had more important things to take care of, of course. Stepping aside so that the door wouldn’t slam into your back if any staff member decided to come outside at this moment, you leaned against the cold wall, pushing your hands into your pockets. You didn’t bother grabbing your jacket, although you should have given the fact that your skin was now covered in goosebumps, teeth slightly chattering. It was always a whiplash coming outside from that parched pub, having to forcefully push through the bodies too busy to notice your approaching form. It was another busy night, the weekend was approaching so the students were coming in waves that the pub could barely house. You’ve been telling your boss that you should put a capacity limit, but he wouldn’t make as much money like that as he was making now, so of course, he said no. He was a greedy monster and he didn’t even try to hide it.

Just as you closed your eyes, you heard a loud tsk followed by a hiss, and your head jerked to the side, your eyes widening. You hadn’t realised there was someone else here with you, too taken by your own thoughts of wondering what you’d cook for dinner…if you make it home at a decent hour, which was looking less and less likely to be. With your eyes narrowed and head turned, you tried to find the source where the sound had come from, eyebrows furrowing when you noticed someone crouched down right by the door, their head lowered over their knees. It wasn’t your business what anyone was doing, really, but if a client was feeling unwell and would need assistance, you’d feel guilty if you just walked away without a word. So, sighing to yourself, you pushed off the wall and took a few steps to approach the person, eyes taking in the black messy curls on the top of his head. The person had a baby mullet growing out, framing his pale nape. You cleared your throat and reached down, gently poking at the guy’s shoulder.

“Hey, you good?” You asked unsure, eyebrows furrowing when the guy grunted only. Tilting your head, you realised he was shielding his left hand, his right thumb trying to roll the sparkwheel of his lighter, but to no avail.

“Yeah, this bloody thing won’t work.” The guy groaned, shaking his lighter as he tilted his head back, a hand-rolled cigarette hanging between his lips. Your eyes widened as you realised the face was familiar, having seen him just yesterday. The guy’s eyes looked innocent as they rounded, recognition flashing in his too. You gulped and straightened up, your expression slightly hardening as the guy’s harsh words from yesterday rang through your ears. He seemed pretty fine to you, but before you could step aside and go back inside, he spoke up.

“Hi there, pretty barista.” He then grinned, a lazy pull of his cherry-red lips, his tone easy. You didn’t expect him to be so easy-going after what you had said to him, but it almost looked like the guy wasn’t bothered by you cursing him out…maybe he really wasn’t, “You on a break?”

You crossed your arms in front of your chest, watching as he struggled to get his lighter to work. You had one in your pocket, but you found a bit of satisfaction in watching him struggle. Maybe if he asked whether you had one, you’d let him use yours. But people who didn’t ask wouldn’t get help, that’s what your father taught you, at least.

“Obviously.” You muttered matter of fact as the guy hummed, grinning wickedly when the lighter finally sparked to life, allowing him to light his cigarette. You watched as the flame danced in front of his face, making his dark eyes appear amber-like, sharper from this angle. You realised, alarmed, that you were appreciating his looks so you quickly stopped, looking away as the guy puffed out a whiff of smoke.

“You want some?” The guy asked, reaching his hand toward you as you eyed the cigarette, its smell hitting you. It was too herbal to be a normal cigarette, you belatedly realised as you watched the guy take another hit of his joint.

“What’s in it?” You decided to ask, just to make sure. If you were wrong and it was a regular cigarette, maybe you’d accept a smoke. You didn’t usually smoke but you were still tired from yesterday’s shift, and something that could loosen your nerves would be highly appreciated.

“Good stuff.” The guy grinned, giggling even a little, and the sound almost put a smile on your lips, but you caught yourself in time and instead shook your head, pushing your hands into your pockets again.

“I’m working, so, no.” The guy just hummed as he looked up at you again, taking a drag of his joint as you gulped and everted your eyes. It felt like he was gazing right through you and into your soul as your eyes had met, and given the fact that you were still butt-hurt over what he had said to you yesterday, you refused to look at him too long…you’d only admire his beauty, either way. He wore a fuzzy yellow and pink sweater today, his brown dress pants looking way too thin for this weather, but the guy didn’t seem to mind. His nails stood out with their unique design, and he wore fewer rings today but more earrings than yesterday.

“Hey, yesterday…what I said at the bar, I didn’t mean to berate you.” The guy gulped, his eyebrows furrowing as you looked back at him, slightly taken aback to see such sincerity on his face. You’ve never met someone so easily readable before, “My intention wasn’t to hurt you, I was smoked out too so I was just running my mouth, I do that when I’m high, sorry…”

A beat of silence passed as the two of you shared an apprehensive look, making you bite your bottom lip. You cleared your throat and at last averted your eyes, kicking a few pebbles towards the guy without meaning to, “Right, I shouldn’t have cursed you out either…I’m sorry too, I guess.”

The guy hummed, a smile slowly appearing on his lips before he took another drag of his cigarette, his eyes boring into yours again, “I’m glad the pretty barista doesn’t hate my guts anymore.”

You have no idea what took over you, but your cheeks were suddenly flushing as if you had been noticed by your crush for the first time, your skin prickling. You weren’t one to care about the compliments your clients gave since most of them were only trying to get in your pants, but this guy seemed to be genuine. He didn’t try to hit on you, he was just calling you pretty, and it was getting to you. You hummed and turned towards the door, hand reaching out for the knob when suddenly the guy spoke again, “Humans are easily susceptible, you know? We judge without knowing first, and we rarely apologise and recognise our mistakes. I hate people like that, rude people for no reason too. I don’t stand for all that bullshit, so I’m glad you told me to fuck myself instead of smiling at me like you do with all the other assholes. I appreciate your hard work, we all have to make due somehow and you aren’t less for working in this pub, pretty barista.”

There he was again, making your chest feel heavy as you huffed, a sarcastic smile pulling at your lips. Once again, what did he know about you? Maybe you loved this damned job, maybe being a barista in a shitty pub has been your lifelong dream. You almost scoffed at yourself, eyes narrowing as the guy took more drags of his joint, seemingly waiting for an answer that you didn’t exactly want to give. But you didn’t want him to have the last word, much like yesterday, so you plastered on a sarcastic smirk, “There you go again, blabbering your mouth when you’re smoked out.”

You didn’t expect the guy to start laughing loudly, his head falling back as it landed against the wall, his eyes crinkling at the corners. You didn’t mean to gape, but he was beautiful and painfully honest, it was refreshing in a world full of fakeness. He was an intriguing person, and you would’ve allowed yourself to become interested in him if only you had met in a different setting. With a hum and lingering eyes, you pushed the door open as the guy nodded at you in goodbye once he realised you were leaving for good. And with a faster beating heart, you willed yourself to focus on the few hours that you still had of your shift.

It’s been quite a while since you had the chance to wake up at the crack of dawn without feeling tired, or without having to rush in for an early shift. Through hard work, you had earned these two days of break, and while you wished you had been given a full week, you made sure to utilise these two days wisely. You had always been an early bird, wishing to wake with the sun, opening your windows to hear the song of the birds, but it was too cold for them to hunker down in front of your window today. You didn’t mind, you’d take a stroll after your breakfast and check out the new art store that’s opened not too far from your apartment. You’ve heard great things about it, the prices seemed to be reasonable, and it had an adjoint bookstore and a coffee shop as well. A quick check on the internet showed you just how cozy it was, so you thought you could buy a book from your to read list and settle down in the coffee shop. It sounded like a great plan to destress and forget for a bit about work and all the idiots that kept you up at night, quite literally.

Your scarf was thick as you buried your nose into it, trying to keep it warm from the cold chill of the early morning. The city was awake with you, orange sun rising on the horizon and blinding you as you were walking towards it, you couldn’t help but smile. It warmed your cheeks and body, feeling the sun on your skin during cold season always felt like a blessing, you would always relish in it as much as you could because you knew it wouldn’t last for long. You exhaled as your eyes remained squinted, watching the people around you as you walked towards your destination. Kids were rushing to school, parents by their sides guiding them, and traffic was as crazy as ever, impatient drivers honking and disturbing the little peace everyone had. You paid it no mind and felt thankful that you were able to wake up so early instead of just going to bed, all tired and wishing for your boss to fire you. But if he did fire you, you would be in trouble, so you didn’t actually wish for that to happen. And suddenly as you turned the corner, the guy’s words from the bar managed to ring through your ears once again. Working at the pub was just as much of an honest job as it would’ve been working anywhere else.

You sighed, realising you were thinking about him again. You’ve been doing this a lot lately, letting your mind wander to his peculiar fashion sense and even more peculiar way of thinking. He seemed almost raw with his words and thoughts, unafraid to say them to your face. It was refreshing and intriguing, but you couldn’t let yourself be sidetracked right now. You had a purpose, and that was working until you had enough money to move away. If somehow a guy came into the picture right now, you felt like that would mess up all your plans and vision of the future. Under no circumstance would you stay here, but you knew your heart would betray you and try to keep you here for longer, with your lover. You didn’t even want to think of the guy as a potential love interest, you didn’t even know each other, so you shoved these thoughts to the back of your mind as you reached the art store, eyes widening at its exterior.

You haven’t seen anything quite like it before, the windows reached from ceiling to floor, a clear view of what was going on inside. There was a spiral staircase that led to the higher level which was littered with bookcases and low hanging retro chandeliers, bean bags spaced out on the floor as people sat around with books in their hands. To the right was the coffee shop with a separate entrance if you were only here for coffee, but you could also enter through the art store. And the art store was gorgeous as you made your way inside, the double doors opening easily. A sweet scent hit your nostrils as you walked further inside, your eyes wide as you took in the whole place. Paintings were hung on the walls, blank canvas placed underneath as many shelves housed all kinds of art supplies. The clerks were all smiley and they welcomed you warmly once they noticed your arrival. Maybe you could find a nicer workplace, something like this one. The workload seemed less strenuous and the people that came here to shop were less rowdy and rude. As much as you loved admiring the fine arts, you didn’t have the talent for drawing or painting, you could mess up even something as simple as a cloud. It was embarrassing, but arts have never been your forte, so you headed for the staircase to look for the book you had on your mind.

Navigating around the many shelves seemed a bit intimidating at first, but then you noticed they were sectioned on different genres, the tags hanging low from the ceiling with an arrow pointing towards the section to help you out. You smiled to yourself as you unrolled your scarf from around your neck, the warmth of the store helping your frozen fingers as you turned down a corner, two tall bookshelves on your sides. At the end of the row sat a younger girl with a manga in her hand, another one pressed to her lips as she seemed to be giggling. You felt yourself smile as you came near her, looking at the titles of the books. Asking for a clerk to help you find the book you were looking for would’ve helped enormously, but you found yourself wanting to stroll around in the warmth, fingers grazing the spines of the books. The girl giggled just a bit louder and blushed when you glanced her way. This wasn’t a library, so she wasn’t disturbing anyone, but she was still mindful of those around her. You turned the corner once again, finding the High Fantasy section, having made your research beforehand, you knew you were in the right place. It took a bit more cruising down the row to finally find the book you were looking for, and you grinned when you found it, taking it off the shelf.

You thought about strolling around the store more just to discover it further, maybe they had cheap trinkets you could buy. You even thought about paying a visit the coffee shop as well, maybe they had one of your favourite patisserie delicacies. You wouldn’t turn down something sweet right now, you didn’t have a sweet tooth necessarily, but there were days when your cravings got the better of you. With that in mind, you headed back the way you had come, sneaking another glance at the younger girl as she gasped, manga now clutched tightly in both of her hands. You chuckled before you rounded the corner, now back on the main aisle that led to the spiral staircase. You noticed that most people who were inside the store looked to be college students, their outfits mismatched colours and patterns, hair coloured something vibrant as most of them had piercings you never even thought possible before. You really liked their style and found yourself staring at them, blushing when a girl caught you and raised an eyebrow before she smiled. You nodded your head and hurried down the stairs, flustered and a little embarrassed. They oddly reminded you of the guy from the bar, you thought he’d somehow fit right in with the people inside the store. It looked something he’d enjoy, not that you knew anything about him besides that he smoked weed, wasn’t afraid to speak his mind, and had a nice sense of fashion.

You were looking at the hard cover of your book as you got to the base of the staircase, taken by the pretty illustration and completely unaware that someone was headed straight towards you, just as taken by items in his hands as you were by your book. The collision could’ve been avoided if you both had been paying attention to where you were going, but alas, you gasped loudly as you felt a hard body collide into yours, items spilling loudly onto the floor. Your head shoot up, eyes wide as you looked at the equally startled man and—wait, it was the same guy from the bar! You gulped, suddenly feeling nervous as your cheeks burned, but the guy hadn’t noticed you yet as he had crouched down to collect his items off the floor. You felt bad and hoped the expensive palette on the ground hadn’t been broken, so you crouched down too and reached for it to inspect it. The guy still hadn’t quite noticed that it was you out of all people, but as you reached for the same brush, his head raised sharply. Your smile was apologetic as the guy’s eyes widened, recognition flashing on his face. This was the third time you met this week, the sheer coincidence of meeting outside the pub was a bit jarring…especially since you’ve been just thinking about him.

“Pretty barista from the pub!” He motioned towards you then chuckled, letting you pick up the brush. Your book was placed on the ground next to you so your hands were free to help.

“Hi,” Your voice came out a lot shier than you had intended it to be, and you chewed on your bottom lip awkwardly, “Sorry about this, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Don’t worry,” The guy chuckled, scooping up the small canvases, “I wasn’t either. If it makes you feel better, it was both of our faults.”

You hummed and grabbed the last item off the floor, standing at the same time as the guy. His arms were filled with his items, and you wondered if you handed over the four in your hands how he’d be able to carry everything. Despite the cold weather outside, he was underdressed. He wore a simple turtleneck with a brown knitted vest over it, long flowy plants and mismatched tennis shoes. As you both stepped aside from the staircase to make way for others, you cleared your throat and averted your eyes once you realised you were staring again. But you hadn’t seen him wearing glasses before, and with the curly strands falling over his forehead, he didn’t only look handsome but cute as well.

“What brings you here?” The guy made conversation as you tried to figure out how to hand him his items without making him drop them all again, “I say this without meaning to be rude, but you seem like the last person who’d be interested in art.”

You huffed, not bothered by his honesty, “While that statement is incorrect, I’m not here due to the art section of the store. I was looking for a book.”

“Right!” He exclaimed, glancing down at his own chest, “Oh, sorry, you can hand me those, I can carry them!”

“Are you sure?” You asked as he nodded enthusiastically, so you complied. You stepped closer to place the other four items in his arms, watching as he clinched the smaller canvas underneath his chin to keep it from falling. You would’ve laughed and offered to help until he got himself a bag or something, but the guy looked pretty content like this. Like it wasn’t his first time doing this…

“Are you collecting them?” The guy’s incomplete question left you raising a confused eyebrow at him, “Sorry, I saw you’re buying The Hobbit. It’s a pretty famous reprint, the covers are gorgeous, my best friend is collecting them so I assumed you are too.”

You glanced down at the book in your hand and bit your bottom lip, trying to brush off your embarrassment. Why were you feeling like this all of a sudden? It made no sense, but you didn’t want to leave a bad impression on the guy…even though his perception of you might already be fucked since this wasn’t your first time meeting.

“I’ve, uh, so, uhm, I have a to read list for books I’ve never read while growing up, so now I have a little tradition that I buy a book from the list each month and read it.” You spoke quickly, avoiding eye contact as the guy listened to your ramble. His intake of breath was sharp and you chanced a glance at his face, finding his eyes wide and his mouth rounded.

“Wait. Are you saying you haven’t read The Hobbit before?!” He sounded incredulous and alarmed, and your cheeks grew hot once again, actually managing to sour your mood a bit. Not having read the book didn’t make you less by any means, but you had a feeling this guy was well-versed in literature, so it felt like a jab and even a subtle scrutinising.

“Yeah, not everyone likes reading while growing up…” Your tone grew cold and voice snappish as you continued to avoid eye contact, looking towards the front desk so that maybe the guy would get the hint that you were done with this conversation. But it didn’t actually surprise you that he continued speaking without noticing you didn’t want to keep conversing anymore.

“That’s totally cool, my brother hated comic books growing up and now he’s obsessed with them.” The guy chuckled, expression innocent and tone genuinely excited, “I think you’ll love the book, it’s filled with adventure and otherworldly creatures. It’s a nice step back from our grim reality, I feel like you need that right now.”

Okay, there he was assuming again that he could just…psychoanalyse you or whatever, “Can you stop doing that? I’m not a painting you can interpret to your liking.”

The guy blinked, face going blank before his cheeks flushed, his gaze averted now from yours, “I…have I been doing it all this time?”

“Ever since we’ve met.” Your answer was sharp and quick and the guy blushed even more.

“Oh, sorry, I just…I’ll stop doing that,” Then he smiled awkwardly and held eye contact with you, “I’m Hongjoong, by the way, I don’t remember introducing myself.”

Because he hadn’t. You repeated his name in your head, finding yourself liking the sound of it, it seemed like a fitting name for him. You hummed, extending your hand.

“I’m Y/N.” But you and Hongjoong glanced down at your extended hand and then his occupied ones at the same time, chuckles leaving your mouths as he seemed flustered.

“I’m shake your hand the next time we see other.”

“If there will be a next time.”

“I quite like the pub you work at, pretty barista.” You cleared your throat and avoided looking at him because as corny as it was, it kind of made your heart flutter. What was happening? The chiming of the doorbell reminded you that it was time you left and took care of other errands you had in your schedule, but before you could say goodbye to Hongjoong, he asked a question that took you off guard, “Wanna grab a cup of coffee with me?”

Then he turned sideways, nodding towards the adjoined café, and you hesitated for a second. You could actually slip in a little time to have coffee with him, but you felt reluctant. You had met him at the pub, after all, and you still couldn’t decide what type of person he was. Of course, he was handsome, and so far, has showed a good character, but there were little moments when he somehow managed to ruin everything with his words. And he was still a complete stranger, so, listening to your rational mind, you slowly shook your head.

“I don’t like coffee, but thanks!” Your smile was easy, Hongjoong’s face morphed into something knowing as he hummed with a nod.

“Sure, I’m glad I caught you here.” Then, as you were about to take off, he added, “The pretty barista now has a name, I can say my morning was successful.”

You tried to huff and look irked, but the blush betrayed you. You just shook your head before heading for the front desk, “Goodbye, Hongjoong.”

“See ya!” His smile was radiant as he turned around and headed for the café instead, and you realised he was underdressed because he had come from the coffee shop, his things already there. And with Hongjoong on your mind, you followed his distinctive walk as he sauntered over to his table with an elegancy yet swagger you hadn’t seen before.

Now, a week ago you probably would have said no to a preposition that involved you following home a complete stranger whose name you had known for a maximum of four days, but tonight had been literal shit and you were on the verge of tears when Hongjoong had sauntered over to the bar, his Chesire like smile blinding. You had one more hour left of your shift and you’d be clocking out, not even staying behind to help Hani clean up. Your cramps were terrible and a guy who hit on you for the whole night had spilt his drink on your favourite blouse, calling you a bitch as well for shunning him away, so, when you saw Hongjoong approach the bar with mischief in his eyes, you were ready to scream at him and tell him to get lost. Except that you didn’t do all that because his question completely threw you off guard.

“Y/N, do you like art?” He had a rolled-up joint resting at his ear, his hair pulled to the side and clipped back with colourful hair clips. Your laugh that bubbled past your lips sounded incredulous and tired, but you nodded.

“I do, do you want something to drink?” Hongjoong shook his head, leaning across the bar despite it being wet from spilt alcohol.

“When does your shift end?”

“In an hour.”

“Wanna see some of my art?” Then Hongjoong grinned, looking proud of himself, “I’m a painter.”

Something came over you and didn’t even let you ponder over your decision, “Do you have weed?”

The answer was obvious as you glanced at the joint and Hongjoong laughed, tilting his head in a way that sharpened his features under the neon lights of the pub.

“Obviously, got some on me right now. Want some?” Not while you were working, afterwards, however, you were free to do whatever.

“After my shift, yeah.”

“Cool, I’ll meet you in the back. See ya.”

And that’s how you ended up at Hongjoong’s apartment, not even ten minutes away from the pub. Your feet ached and your cramps were so bad you felt like doubling over and emptying your already empty stomach, but you tried to hold yourself together in front of Hongjoong. There was a nervous flutter in your chest as you had followed him up the steel staircase, the building old and dodgy. However, the second you walked inside his studio apartment, it felt like you had entered a different realm. He was the true definition of an artist, you came to realise, with canvas strewn around the apartment, most finished but some blank, oil paint tainting the wooden floor and even the walls. The colours were neutral, beige with a slip of sage green here and there, the curtains sheer and pulled to the side as Hongjoong hurried over to the windows to push them open. There was an earthy smell in the air mixed with something sweet like vanilla, and you couldn’t help but marvel at the cosiness of Hongjoong’s studio. You recognised a few prints on the walls, they were the paintings of well-known painters who no longer lived, and the décor Hongjoong had used was rather vintage than modern. His huge wardrobe was open, and he pushed the door closed with little care as he picked up a hoodie off the floor. You were surprised he even owned one of those.

You flinched when it collided against your head, confused as to why he had thrown it at you. Hongjoong chuckled as he shrugged his coat off, trying to tidy his messy bed but quickly giving up when he realised you didn’t look like you cared. Truthfully, your apartment wasn’t in a better shape, the dishes in the sink had been there for three days and your bathroom was in dire need of a deep clean.

“We can’t smoke weed with closed windows, so it’ll get colder.” Hongjoong suddenly explained, shrugging on a cardigan that looked very soft, “Wear my hoodie, it’ll keep you warm.”

You hummed, glancing down at it before you stepped out of your shoes, shrugging your jacket off and wearing the hoodie. Its scent was sweet but potent with something musky, and you blushed as your nose buried into its fabric, drinking in its soft material.

“Make yourself feel at home!” Hongjoong grinned, walking over to the small kitchen section to grab two cups, “Do you want tea?”

You shook your head as you walked towards the small bean bag, pushing it with your leg to try and get it more gathered together. And then, just as you were about to sink into the chair, you heard a faint sound come from the kitchen. You turned your head and were met with a small black creature blinking at you in wonder.

“You have a cat?” You asked in surprise, staring back at the little pet. Hongjoong chuckled, looking down at his pet as the electric kettle started whistling.

“Is it so surprising? I found him near a dumpster a few years ago, he’s been by my side ever since.” You couldn’t help but gaze at Hongjoong with admiration as he spoke, pouring hot water into his cup for the tea, “His name is Woo ‘cuz he reminds me of my friend. They are both rascals and really loud.”

As if on cue, the cat meowed loudly and you chuckled, finally easing yourself into the bean bag. Your lower back protested and your spine cracked as you allowed yourself to lean back, arching your back. You could’ve cried at the relief, thankful to finally be off your feet. You couldn’t wait for the weed, it would dull your cramps and help you ease up after the day you’ve had. You were probably in dire need of a shower since you smelled like alcohol, but you didn’t feel comfortable showering at a guy’s place you barely knew. Which, now that you thought more about it, realisation started setting in. You weren’t too smart for following Hongjoong home, but he had never creeped you out, so you decided to give him the benefit of the doubt tonight. You stared at the cat as Hongjoong mixed honey into his berry-flavoured tea, the warm mist hogging up his glasses. The cat, still at Hongjoong’s side, stared back at you and then slowly walked towards you, its head tilted in wonder. You smiled at it and let it smell your fingers, taking you off guard when it unceremoniously climbed into your lap, starting to make biscuits against your lower abdomen.

“Ah, of course, you’re already in the lap of the pretty barista.” Hongjoong mused with an amused smile on his lips, “You take after Wooyoung more than one would think.”

You had no idea who this Wooyoung guy was, but it sounded like he was a flirt if Hongjoong wasn’t bluffing.

“I like your apartment,” You blurted out as you started petting the cat, smiling down at it when it started purring, “It’s got character, much like you.”

“That’s the first time you said something completely honest to me.” Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked up at Hongjoong, the joint from his ear now gone as he grabbed some matches to light it up. You didn’t think that was true, but you didn’t say anything as Hongjoong came nearer, sitting down on the floor across from you. You looked at him as he took a long whiff of his joint, then extended his arm for you to take the weed. It’s been quite a while since you smoked any, you knew it would hit you faster, but you hoped it wasn’t too strong or you’d become sick. You took a careful drag of it as Woo settled into a slumber in your lap, and the earthy taste of it made you grimace. But you kept the smoke in your lungs for a bit before exhaling, taking another drag as Hongjoong watched you with a lazy smile. He looked so…handsome. You’ve had a few days to yourself to think about Hongjoong after your encounter in the art store, and you realised you were attracted to him. It was mostly physical since you liked his looks, but his brutally honest character also had you intrigued even if you’d get offended at times by what he was saying.

“I find it hilarious that you decided to come home with me after you declined to have coffee.” Your eyes met Hongjoong’s quickly just as you were about to hand over the joint, “Do you really don’t drink coffee? Or did you just want to get rid of me that day?”

“I…” You licked your lips as Hongjoong took the joint from you, grinning as he took a long drag once again, “Both, actually. I just…I don’t know you well enough and we’ve also met at the pub, I don’t like meddling with clients. Those frat boys are horny and only want to sleep with me.”

“Good thing I’m not a frat boy then, right, Woo?” Hongjoong grinned and ruffled the slumbering cat’s fur, looking back at you with an understanding look, “I’ll be done with my master’s degree in just a few months.”

You hummed, picking at the sleeve of Hongjoong’s hoodie before you saw the joint handed to you again, “And after that? What do you plan on doing?”

Suddenly, Hongjoong had a pensive look on his face as he leaned back on his arms, staring up at the ceiling. You took shorter drags of the joint now but kept the smoke in your lungs until it started burning.

“I want to travel the world, visit art galleries and drink a lot of expensive wine.” That didn’t sound bad at all, Hongjoong continued before you could tell him, “It’s hard breaking into the industry as a painter even though some realtors have already approached me to buy my paintings and put them on display.”

“And? What did you say to them?” You felt genuinely curious, the cat sighed loudly in your lap and Hongjoong looked at you two, reaching out for the joint. Your fingertips brushed together and Hongjoong’s hands felt too cold, but you didn’t comment on it.

“I turned them down,” Hongjoong smiled, but it looked almost sad before he shrugged, taking a drag, “I don’t want just anyone owning my creations. I want someone who understands what’s on that canvas to contact me, I want someone who genuinely loves art and isn’t just doing it for the money. It’s hard to find people like that nowadays, but I’m willing to wait as long as it takes…even if that makes me broke.”

Hongjoong scoffed out a chuckle, sounding bitter by the end of his sentence. For someone who was so good at reading others and commenting on their lives, Hongjoong seemed to be having his own demons he had to fight. You hummed, closing your eyes for a second as you felt your muscles ease up, your cramps less torturous. You were glad the weed was slowly kicking in, your cramps would’ve had you crying if not.

“So how do you plan on travelling if you have no money?” Maybe the question was insensitive, but you were curious. Hongjoong didn’t take offence as he smiled, looking at you with sparkling eyes.

“There are art courses all around the world, I might sign up for one and leave, never look back…”

“Do you hate it here?” The question tumbled past your lips before you could stop yourself, “Because I don’t.”

Hongjoong didn’t look surprised as he nodded, handing back the joint so you could finish it. Three drags and it would be gone, so you took your time savouring it.

“It’s not the worst, but I don’t see much of a future for myself here.” So, Hongjoong was just like you then, “When are you leaving?”

“How did you know?” You sounded shocked as Hongjoong shrugged, averting his eyes.

“You and I are rather similar, you just fail to see it, Y/N.” Well, maybe he was right, maybe he wasn’t. You couldn’t read Hongjoong as well as he could read you, you needed more time to feel out his character.

“Six months and I’m out of here, never to come back if life’s kind to me.” Your voice was quiet as you didn’t look at Hongjoong, smoke wafting through your lips as you finished the joint. Hongjoong hummed, a low and warm sound, as he reached for the stud to take it from you. Your fingers brushed together once again, and you looked at Hongjoong when he held your wrist.

“You’re stronger than you think, you’ll make it big out there, Y/N, have more faith in yourself.” You found yourself smiling now, head a little hazy as you nodded, finding it easier to believe whatever Hongjoong told you.

“You’re the artist between the two of us, you’re the one supposed to make it big.” Hongjoong chuckled and stood, headed for the kitchen.

“Can’t we both make it big?” He raised an eyebrow as he threw the stud away, turning around to face you. You hummed, not entirely agreeing with him, but you decided to nod. Then, Hongjoong turned towards where his bed was and grinned, “You’re here to see some art, no?”

“Right, I almost forgot about that.” Hongjoong chuckled, then beckoned you over. You grabbed the cat in your lap and pressed a kiss against its small head, placing it on the bean bag in your spot. Your feet felt light as you headed towards Hongjoong, who had sauntered over to the desk pressed up against the wall underneath the open windows. He turned the small lamp on, and suddenly you were looking at small canvases filled with colour and abstract shapes. Somehow they looked like an organised mess, even in the overflowing swirl of colours, you managed to find a pattern that seemed to never end like a loop. You turned your head to look at Hongjoong, and suddenly you realised his art was a perfect reflection of who he was.

“I can tell you made these.” Perhaps phrasing it like that was offensive, but Hongjoong only looked curious. He hummed, raising an eyebrow.

“How come?” His voice was quiet, curious.

“I can see you in these.” You pointed at the canvas with orange and yellow as the more prominent colours, circling a deep blue that looked almost black, “The blue is you at your core, dark and perhaps scared of the world. And then all that orange and yellow? I think that’s how you see the world, how you wish it treated you, hoping it would lighten all that darkness that looms over you all the time. And this one? I wonder if it was a coincidence you hid so many infinity symbols in the background, this burgundy is gorgeous, by the way. I think everyone is afraid of disappearing without leaving a trace of themselves in this fucked up world, and I actually…I admire you for being so honest and straightforward, very few people are like you.”

Hongjoong’s eyebrows were furrowed the longer you spoke, but he remained silent as you smiled, looking down at the white canvas, unfinished but with light blue swirls creating the illusion of a clear sky, “I wonder what this will turn into. So far, it reminds me of serenity, of the calm before a storm. Life’s like that too, don’t you think? It’s quiet and gentle, and then it turns into a scary thing that can destroy us if we let it.”

Hongjoong just gulped, his eyes clouded but his heart racing. He was positive no one had been able to interpret his art for what it was before, and he wondered how much of him you could see through his eyes if you could read so well what the trail of his brush had left on a blank canvas. It made him feel seen like never before, not even his biggest supporter, Wooyoung, could see beyond Hongjoong’s intentions when he sat down to paint, to tell the world his pain and rage, yearning for someone to just finally see him.

“You’re…” Hongjoong gulped, his throat feeling dry as you smiled at him, curious if you’d been right, “You are a person I should cherish more from now on.”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise, your heart skipping a beat once again. What did he mean by saying that? You wanted to ask, but Hongjoong stepped closer, his tone breathy as he spoke up again, “‘Whoever wants to know something about me – as an artist which alone is significant – they should look attentively at my pictures and there seek to recognize what I am and what I want’…that’s what Gustav Klimt once said. And so far, you are the only person who’s managed to do that.”

Your mouth gaped open, and you both heard Woo stretch and meow loudly, his soft footsteps loud as he walked towards Hongjoong’s bed, jumping up and finding a new spot to sleep. You didn’t know what to say back to that, but you felt your heart race as your cheeks flushed, shy all of a sudden. Hongjoong was looking at you with a softness no man has looked at you with, it was a bit hard to take it all in without freaking yourself out that this wasn’t real, that it was just the weed, or that maybe Hongjoong wasn’t as genuine as his expression showed.

“Y/N,” You didn’t flinch when his hand wrapped around your wrist, his tone still soft, “I think you already know that I find you pretty, and I…I might have gone to that dingy pub for so long just to see you, actually.”

Those words had your heart racing even wilder as you looked up, finding Hongjoong’s face closer to yours as his eyes now bore into yours, “I should’ve been more specific when I asked you to have coffee with me. I meant to ask you out on a date, but I panicked because I knew I had slightly upset you, but…”

He gulped nervously and you felt so curious to hear what more he had to say, perhaps a smile would encourage him, so that’s what you did, offered him a small friendly smile. He released a breath and cleared his throat, his hand slipping from your wrist to your hand, “Can I kiss you?”

If this was anyone else but Hongjoong, your answer would have been an instant no. But the longer you looked into his eyes, the more excited and giddy you felt, so you just nodded your head and licked your lips, trying to ignore the deep flush of your cheeks. Hongjoong chuckled, suddenly looking shy, but he started leaning in, his eyes fluttering closed just as your lips met. It was careful, it was sweet and it made your heart roar as you stepped just a bit closer, your noses brushing together as your lips moved slowly and carefully, mostly just testing out the waters. Hongjoong’s lips were soft and sweet, and surprisingly didn’t taste like weed but like peaches. You wondered if he used any sort of lip balm to have them taste like that. His hand settled on your cheek and he gently caressed your cheekbone with his thumb, making your heart roar once again. It’s been long since someone had treated you with such gentleness, and you told yourself to remain level-headed, but it would be just so easy to fall in love with Hongjoong. You couldn’t help but smile as you two pulled apart, Hongjoong tried to hide his own grin as he sucked his lips together, but his eyes gave him away. You chuckled and he giggled, and suddenly you felt the urge to pull him into a hug.

“So,” He cleared his throat as he let his arms rest around your torso loosely, “If you don’t like coffee, what do you like?”

“Delicious cakes.” You didn’t hesitate to answer and Hongjoong chuckled, patting your head.

“Well then, would you like to go on a delicious cake-hunting date with me?” You closed your eyes to contain your excitement, but the weed had not only eased your muscles but your always worrying mind as well.

“Yes!” You didn’t mean to squeal, but it was hard not to when Hongjoong startled giggling sweetly once again, nodding his head.

“Good, I’ll make sure we find the best spots in the city then.”

And perhaps not just in the city, but also in foreign countries while you attended Hongjoong’s art expositions, an expensive bottle of wine waiting for the two of you back at the hotel.

੭ Masterlist ੭

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vampiredaisiesss · 2 days ago

Text

❝ all a ghost can do

is haunt ❞

— part two

★ dofp! logan howlett x younger! reader

tags & warnings - age gap (reader is in her 20's), the brutal sting of jealousy, light angst, a sweaty logan in his slutty white vest, reader being called a kid, descriptive physical fighting, mentions of being touch starved, kissing :)

word count - 2.3k

part one

You wake up to an empty bed.

The indent in the mattress still holds Logan’s shape, sheets carrying the lingering musk of his skin. Real. It was real. A smile tugs at your lips as you press your face into his pillow, inhaling deeply. Your heart feels too big for your chest, giddy and terrified all at once.

Logan—the Logan whose rare smiles have been making your stomach flip for longer than you'd care to admit—fell asleep in your arms last night.

Your fingers drift over the empty space where his body should be, a tendril of anxiety curling in your gut.

You’re not offended by his absence. Of course, he left. He's Logan. He probably has a hundred reasons why this was a mistake— the age difference, your positions at the school, all the complications it would bring.

Above all, he is still your training instructor.

Training. Classes. School.

Fuck!

The clock catches your eye and panic shoots through you. "Shit!" You're late. Very late.

Your telekinesis responds to your distress before conscious thought kicks in. Clothes float from drawers as you brush your teeth, straight to your waiting hand. You catch your reflection as you rush around – cheeks flushed, hair wild, eyes twinkling both with giddiness and anxiety.

Class is mostly uneventful; You find your mind constantly drifting to the training session ahead. The usual thrill of teaching young minds political theories is dulled by the alternating waves of anticipation rolling through your stomach. Each time you imagine seeing Logan, your heart leaps a little in your chest.

The gym is buzzing with activity when you arrive. Rogue catches your eye from her position on the treadmill, her knowing smile making your cheeks warm.

"Hey," she calls out, wiping her brow. "Logan's in the locker room." The wink she adds makes your heart stutter.

Marie has been teasing you about your little crush on "Professor" Logan for a while now. Despite the fact that you’re only a couple years older than her, she seems too determined that Logan’s got it for you. In solitude, you find yourself wondering if he does, even a little bit.

Your feet carry you toward the locker room, greeting students along the way with what you hope passes as a normal smile. Then you hear it—his voice, low and rough, uttering a name that stops you cold: "Jean..."

The world narrows down to the gap in the double doors. Through it, you spot Logan's broad back, his muscles rippling beneath his tank top. Those arms, the same ones that infiltrate your mind so often, are now wrapped around Jean Grey's frame. Her fingers thread through his hair—oh for fuck's sake, his hair—and white-hot jealousy floods your system.

The pain is immediate, like someone's reached into your chest and squeezed. Hot tears prick at your eyes as your mind cruelly reframes every moment from last night. Of course he'd go to Jean. Brilliant, beautiful, mature Jean. Not some young teacher who he probably sees as nothing more than a student who graduated to a friend, someone who needs protecting rather than someone to lean on as a real partner.

What are you to him? A student? A friend? Some kid he needs to protect?

No.

You refuse to cry here. Swallowing past the knot in your throat, you force yourself to speak, proud when your voice comes out steady. "Logan, are you inside?"

"Uh, yes." His disorientation is right there. "Be outside in a min."

In the adjacent room, you trade your original outfit for a blank tank and track pants. When you arrive back inside the gym, you notice he's wearing a white tank and loose running pants, as opposed to his usual jeans.

It is a good look for him. Really good. Stop looking, you immediately chide yourself.

Logan demonstrates several maneuvers, pointing out where to move and how to strike Usually, he makes you spar with someone else. Someone safe who won't knock your teeth out. But today, you have a different proposition for him.

“Why don't you be the opponent today, professor?" your words make several students' heads turn. "That way, I'll be learning from the best."

Logan frowns. "That's not happening." He states firmly.

“Why not? Afraid I’ll disappoint?”

“What? No.” He jaw works as he tries to figure out the look on your face. What has gotten into you today? When he speaks again, his voice is lower, meant just for you. "You don't have anything to prove here. You can get hurt."

"I'll heal." The words – his words – hit their mark, and the crease between his brows deepens.

You watch the muscle in his jaw tick as he weighs his options. Behind him, you notice that your little argument has drawn a crowd. Jean stands at the edge of the mat, arms crossed, watching with that penetrating gaze that makes you feel impossibly young.

"Fine," Logan rolls his shoulders, and you see the moment he shifts into instructor mode. "But we do this by my rules. First sign of—"

"Real fight, Logan." You drop into a ready stance. "Stop treating me like I'll break."

Half heartedly, Logan mirrors your stance. "Let me know if it gets too much, kid."

The word 'kid' lands exactly as intended, stoking the fire in your chest. You bare your teeth in what might be a smile. "We'll see about that."

The mat creaks under your feet as you square off against Logan. His stance is relaxed, still dismissive—feet shoulder-width apart, hands loose at his sides. You recognize the careful way he's holding himself back.

Something inside you snaps.

You launch forward, aiming high with a strike that leaves you exposed. It is rookie mistake he's warned you about countless times. His response is immediate. One hand catches your wrist while the other sweeps your legs out from under you. The mat slams against your back, forcing the air from your lungs in a harsh exhale.

"Sloppy," he growls, already backing away to give you space. "You're better than that."

You roll to your feet, ignoring the protest of your muscles. Your eyes track his movement—the subtle shift of weight from one foot to another, the almost imperceptible tension in his shoulders. He's taught you to read these signs, to anticipate your opponent's next move. Now you'll show him how well you've learned.

You feint with your elbow, a move telegraphed enough to make him think you're still fighting angry, still not thinking your moves through. He takes the bait, backing up slightly to avoid the strike. The space opens up exactly as you planned, and you pivot on your back foot, channeling your momentum into a roundhouse kick that catches him across the jaw.

The impact reverberates up your leg, making you groan. Logan's head snaps to the side, and for a moment, the gym falls silent. When he looks back at you, there's something new in his expression. Surprise, yes, but also pride, and something darker.

"Too much?" You can't help the cockiness in your voice, even as your heart pounds against your ribs.

Logan doesn't answer.

Instead, he lunges forward with frightening speed, hands reaching for your waist. You twist away, driving your elbow into his back as he passes. The grunt he releases is deeply satisfying, even though you know he's still holding back. One wrong move with his adamantium-laced bones could shatter yours.

"What's gotten into you today?" he demands, circling you now with predatory focus.

You ignore the question, analyzing his gait for openings. Your next attack is ambitious – trying to use his momentum against him, to flip him over your hip. It's a move that might work on someone your size, but Logan is pure muscle, immovable as a mountain.

Instead of him going down, you find yourself stumbling, barely catching yourself before face-planting on the mat.

His laugh ignites something primal in your chest. You spring up, pushing past your body's complaints, and strike him across the face. It's not a combat move. It's a slap, sharp and personal, the sound cracking through the air like a gunshot. His head turns toward Jean, and the sight of his profile facing her direction reignites your fury.

You don't think. You just move, launching yourself at his exposed back. But Logan's instincts are honed by decades of combat. He spins with impossible speed, catching you mid-air. The world tilts and blurs, and then you're on your back again, but this time he follows you down. His body pins you to the mat, hands gripping your wrists beside your head, knee pressed between your thighs to immobilize you.

The position brings every point of contact between your bodies into sharp focus. The press of his chest against yours, both your breaths intermingling. The callused warmth of his palms around your wrists. The solid weight of his thigh between your legs.

Anger and desire war in your veins, making it impossible to think clearly.

"Enough! What's this about?" His voice rasps low, meant only for you. This close, you can see the flecks of amber in his hazel eyes, the same eyes that often soften when they fall upon you.

"You wanted me to be able to defend myself," Your voice comes out breathier than intended, betraying the effect his proximity has on you. "I was just being a good student."

You attempt to rise, to escape the intensity of his gaze, but his grip tightens fractionally. The knee between your legs shifts, pressing higher, and suddenly the pretense of combat feels paper-thin. The gym's watching crowd, led by Jean, seems to disperse, offering you some space to work out your… well, whatever it is you two needed to work out.

"This isn’t about proving yourself in combat. You think I’m an idiot?" His eyes search yours, seeing too much. "Is it about this morning?"

The reminder of yesterday stings fresh. "Don't think too highly of yourself." The words come out sharp. "Why should I expect you to stay? You're not my boyfriend."

"Hey, lose the tone!" The command in his voice sends a shiver down your spine, and when you try to squirm away again, his knee presses more firmly between your thighs, holding you open beneath him.

Something breaks inside you then. Maybe it's the warmth of his body egging you on, crystallizing all your feelings into a single moment of reckless courage. Your lips seek his, catching him mid-word. For one glorious second, he responds, his mouth moving against yours with the same hunger that consumes you both in your daydreams.

Then he pulls back, though not far. "Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart," His breath fans across your lips. "Don’t do that."

You feel the tears building, blurring your vision, and hate how easily he can unmake you.

His expression softens at the sight. “Kid..."

"I'm not a kid!" The words burst out with a sniffle.

"No, you're not," he agrees, his voice gentling. "I don't mean it literally, you know."

"I know," your voice catches. "I just wish you'd stop treating me like one."

"I'm over 200 years old, bub."

"You're quite well preserved for a mummy."

His answering chuckle rumbles through his chest into yours. One hand releases your wrist to brush away a tear. "What is it about, really?"

"I saw you with Jean." You admit finally. A sigh leaves him, but you press on. "And I understand, she's older, wiser, more beautiful—"

"You're wise and beautiful,” Logan’s thumb traces your bottom lip, silencing you. "You want to know what happened in that locker room? Jean was telling me to stop being an idiot. To stop running from this, from us. I couldn't kiss her if I wanted to. Been that way for a while now. There's only one person I want, and she just tried to kick my ass in front of the whole damn school."

"Logan..." His name fills your lungs like the first real breath after drowning.

"Yeah?"

"Kiss me," you whisper, arching up slightly. His hold on your wrists loosens, prompting you to break free and slip your hands into his locks. Desperately, you plead. "I want you to kiss me."

The moment his lips meet yours, your whole world goes quiet. It's soft—so much softer than you'd imagined the Wolverine could be. Your heart feels too big for your chest, like it might burst from finally having something you've wanted for so long.

Logan cradles your face like you're something precious. His calloused fingers find yours against the mat, threading them together, and that simple touch sends warmth flooding through your whole body.

Your mind flashes to all those times you've watched him from afar, wondering if he'd ever look at you the way he's looking at you right now. Not as a student, not as someone who needs protecting, but as someone who understands his darkness and wants him anyway.

It is a feeling capable of curing the ache of starvation that one feels when they've begged for morsels their entire life. And God knows you both have.

"For God's sake, get a room already!" Bobby's exasperated voice cuts through the moment, followed by Rogue's laugh.

Logan's grin against your mouth is pure sin. "What do you say, bub'? Wanna continue this somewhere more private?"

"Thought you'd never ask, Professor."

★

author's note - i might or might not be thinking of releasing a part three by next weekend if this one gains traction. i just love these two soooo muchhh AHHHHH.

#logan wolverine #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett x you #james lee #james logan howlett #the wolverine #wolverine x reader #x men #xmen days of future past #x men movies #xmen fanfiction #wolverine #romance #fluff #light angst #old man logan #vampiredaisies

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jclolz22 · 3 days ago

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multi bot release

i thought i’d release some bots while i’m still finishing up my next big release, so here are some randoms that i’ve worked on lately. i hope you guys enjoy, and thank you again for all the support and love!!

note: yes i am aware that for the kate sharma bot, it is a combination of two different scenes, that did not happen at the same time, nor did they even happen consecutively. i was mistaken when i first made the bot and just kept it the way i did it. also, whoever requested the professor!tashi bot, i love you because this one is a new fave of mine.

aubrey posen and chloe beale — recruitment

ever since aubrey’s mishap at last year’s icca finals, things went downhill for the barden bellas. now, it’s a new school year, and they’re looking for new members. seeing them at the activity fair, neither chloe nor aubrey can stop themselves from trying to recruit you and rebuild the bellas’ image.

cece parekh — in love (gn!user)

you’ve tried so hard to deny your lasting feelings for cece, knowing that it’s the best thing for both of you, especially considering the fact that she doesn’t feel the same way. at least, that’s what you’ve thought for the longest time now. hearing jess’ confession of cece’s feelings for you has you ready to find her on that mountain and tell her the truth. that is, until you have an unexpected visitor at the loft.

kate sharma — bee fright

your pall-mall ball, along with kate’s, got lost in the forestry surrounding your home, so you and her go to search for them. after spotting the balls, you notice that they’re near an area you’d prefer to avoid. kate went over to her ball, ready to hit it when you saw a bee land on her, sending you into a deep panic. the memories of your father flashed in your mind, and you couldn’t stop yourself from being overcome with anxiety.

quinn fabray — real you

quinn is discouraged by lauren exposing her past, yet you want to make sure that she knows you don’t care about who she used to be— you love her anyway and want her to know that she shouldn’t be ashamed of her younger self.

quinn fabray — reuniting (req./gn!user)

dating quinn was more than wonderful, but going to different colleges and trying to do long distance just didn’t work out. four years later, you’re both college graduates, and she’s more than excited to see you again. but when she shows up at your apartment and comes inside, the sight that surrounds her is one that shocks her all at the same time. she’s left with many questions, and wants the answers.

santana lopez — rumours

ever since you said that santana “plays for the other team,” it’s been the newest piece of hot gossip in the muckraker, mckinley’s student-run paper. it’s safe to say that seeing that in the latest edition did not make her happy; not at all.

tashi duncan — office hours (req.)

you love going to stanford, and you always enjoy going to class as you’re truly interested in what you’re studying. having tashi as one of your professors may or may not be your sole motivation when it comes to going to office hours consistently. well, every single day, actually. she’s even offered to provide you assistance on the weekends.

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aplainmeresimp · 2 days ago

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In the Blue Hours of the Morning: Chapter 2 - The Pendulum Swings

Full Fanfic Summary in Chapter 1

Story tags/warnings: pre-season 1, no use of y/n or real world language, strangers to friends to lovers, fluffy, acts of service as viktors love language, academic weapon reader, viktor pov chapters, eventual sky pov chapter, eventual nsfw. unrequited love towards sky :( random oc created for the sole purpose of being a side character. not a song fic, chapters names are just inspired by song lyrics. the only thing viktors insecure about is him being an assistant, he knows he’s fine.

Chapter 2 Word Count: 5.3k

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Next Chapter (Coming soon) ->

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A nine out of ten.

That's what Professor Penmark gave you on the final. Why, you may ask?

“A smudge on the last page,” he said as he wrote your grade in his class list. Afterwards, he circled the smudge and handed it back to you. You flipped to the last page and it shocked you.

It was miniscule. Barely traceable. A nine would be a blessing for other classes, but to get a nine out of ten over a smudge? Ludicrous. Ridiculous. Fuming with rage, you gave him a smile and said, “thank you for the class, Professor.”

You calmly walked out of his office with your graded project. As soon as you turned the corner, you found the nearest trash can, took your project out of its folder, and dumped it into the trash.

Who’s even named Penmark? It's a noun and a noun. Or a noun and a verb. Might as well be named Professor Asswipe. Same difference with that attitude.

Storming to your dorm, students passed you with a twinge of fear. It seemed like a dark cloud loomed over you. The sun had fully set, giving its final remnants of light as the day came to its end.

How could he lower your grade by ten percent over a smudge? That was a new low for him. You would’ve taken a nine point five, even. It wasn't personal, though. You knew as much. He treated every student equally. Equally as bad. Someone probably had the misfortune of failing. That meant no graduation for them.

Perhaps it was time to count your blessings.

Perhaps not. You thought. I deserved that full score.

Growing closer to your dorm filled you with mixed feelings. Mostly since you didn’t interact as much with your roommates. Your routine was always class, work at the library, work in one of the gardens till late at night, and finally go to your dorm to sleep. You didn’t want to pull your late-night studies with two people sleeping.

It's not like you never interacted, it just became less and less as the semesters went on. Still, they saw you when you went there to take a bath or swap into a different set of your uniform. They understood, but it still stung not being around. You were one of the few people that liked your roommates.

Sky, a bioengineering major, was kind and a little shy. She usually worked in the dorm at her neat desk against the wall stacked with plenty of bullet journals she wrote in. Your first interaction with her was about two years ago during the yearly dorm switch.

She said you could have the first pick when you arrived. That was sweet of her. In return, you picked the worst section in return. The bunk bed with no space to sit in and the communal closet under it with a sad excuse for a desk beside it. It was the least you could do after she made such a generous offer.

Cirsche was the opposite. A bold and extroverted architecture major. Her parts of the dorm gave a pop of color to the whole room. Colorful coasters and floor plans were always scattered across her desk and sometimes yours too. It didn’t bother you, seeing as you were rarely in your room. There were always rags stained with alcohol markers soaking in the small bathroom you all shared.

You clenched the doorknob and swept into the dorm. As usual, Sky sat at her desk in the room, bending over a book and a notebook. She looked up, then at you. “It's a miracle that you’re here.” She did a double take of your face, “Woah, are you okay?”

“No.” The light sound of the shower running contrasted the ruckus your shoes made when you kicked them off.

She got up from her chair, took the folder from your hands, and set it on the table. “Do you… Want to talk about it?”

“If I had seen it I would have fixed it.” Your hands flew up in disbelief, “In fact, I would have remade the entire page!”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Sky pulled out the chair from the small desk in the center of the room and asserted, “Sit. Breathe.” She sat on the desk and waited for you.

You closed your eyes, inhaled and huffed, “The teacher gave me a nine. Over a smudge on the project.”

For a moment she seemed shocked, then her face turned calm. It was like she knew what you needed to hear. “But you passed? And was it your last project? Classes are done, right?”

“Yes and yes. No classes left to go to either.” Your anger dissipated little by little.

“Okay, that’s all that matters. Now you just need to focus on the final.”

“I know. I know.” You bit the inside of your lip. It wasn’t anger anymore, it was disappointment. Or at least something like it.

You needed to be great. Not just good enough. Being from somewhere different meant you always had to prove yourself. Set the standard. Undercity people weren’t viewed the same. Over the years, you’d overhear people say things like ‘criminals’, ‘uncivilized’, and ‘them’. It was useful to hide the information of your origins and only reveal it to some people, seeing as not everyone took it well.

Even if you were to keep it discrete, sometimes… Just sometimes, you thought people could sense you weren’t originally from Piltover. Was it overthinking? Maybe. However, deep down, you knew that going to school and practically growing up there meant nothing to the wrong people.

“I understand. You know I do.” Her arms crossed and her head tilted, looking for your attention. “But you already proved yourself. There’s nothing left for you to prove. Do you understand?”

You nodded. It was nice to hear it every now and then.

“Good. Let’s change the subject. I don’t want to see you sad all day.” She got up from the table and went to her desk, “What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Well…” You unbuttoned your vest. “I wanted to go ask an ex-alumni about the final exam. To get an idea of what it’s going to be like.”

She smacked her forehead, “Ugh, you’re right! I should do that too.”

“Wanna come?” You turned on the room’s light, the night becoming darker by the minute, “I’m starting kind of early tomorrow.”

“I would but the bioengineering final is different.” Sky rolled back in her chair, “I’ll start doing that next week.”

The night grew darker, and your nighttime routines started. Cirsche came out of the shower, you went in and changed into loose clothes to go to bed, and Sky put her notebooks away and cleaned her desk. At a certain point, Cirsche left to get dinner and came back with bowls of rice for everyone. Being with them on the floor, trying not to laugh to not wake the neighbors, and sharing food was as close as you had to a family.

It was an extra special bond. When other people left for the vacation period, you three, along with a few others, chose to stay. Everyone with their reasons. Sky remained to have a place away from the undercity, independence. It was easier for her to stay put and go back to see her relatives. Cirsche just liked living at the university. You couldn’t blame her. It had great access to most transportation, shops, and everything in between.

A few others like you had nowhere else to go. No family or primary home to go to. Your whole life was at school. Morning and night. Semesters and vacation time alike.

You were definitely an anomaly. Rarely did people ask to stay with the same roommates, but the three of you just fit right. The first year cemented your friendship enough to ride it out until the end of university. It wasn’t bad having to share around the clock when your friends turned into your family.

The clock struck ten and it was time for bed.

“How’s the job going?” Cirsche asked you in the darkness from the bottom bunk across the room.

“Not bad. Could be worse.” You replied, already in bed, with the cool breeze from the window inciting you to cover up.

Weirdly enough, it was the whole truth. On the weekends you’d go to a few restaurants and sweep their sidewalks and entryways for a good amount of coins. It was tiring work after ten shops or so, but you needed to afford to eat. The university only gave you a place to stay. Everything else like food, uniforms, school supplies, and transportation was your responsibility. It was fairly nice. Some of the shopkeepers knew you and threw in a baked bun, a hairclip, or a fancy pencil along with your payment.

“Now imagine your next job! Engineer slash scientist!” Sky’s hands spread, showing you her vision.

“I know. I’ll miss it a little though.” You’d miss the people, the reason to get some fresh air. What you wouldn’t miss was having to work as a student.

They said something else you couldn’t pick up. Their words became fuzzy, incoherent. You felt like you forgot to do something as you were trying to reply. Then you stopped thinking and replying altogether. Sweet rest invited you in and you were gone.

The morning came slow and fresh with a spirited breeze, the norm for Piltover. Your ears picked up the sound from the window coming from the courtyard a few stories below. Students yelling and laughing, having enjoyed the morning more than you already. Not long after, your eyes creaked open to an empty dorm. No Sky or Cirsche to be found. There was, however, a note on the side of your bunk.

It read, ‘We tried to wake you for breakfast, but you didn’t wake up. Be back later!’. With a little smiley face on the bottom.

Wake me for breakfast? Isn’t it still early–

You looked at the clock that hung over the door frame.

Eleven thirty in the morning.

Shit.

The day was escaping you already. On weekends you could wake up naturally, no alarm clock needed. It was a skill acquired or rather, a curse acquired from years of academic pressure. Yet, the day you wanted to start early, you forgot to set an alarm and your body decided it wanted to rest more. Nice.

You mentally slapped yourself, knowing that was what you forgot to do. Not wanting to punish yourself any further, you got out of bed and got dressed in your uniform. You took your brown school bag and made your way out.

There was a mental list of the people you knew from last year that could help you.

Emmeline, Theodore, Dorian, and Itsel. All recent graduates from engineering and with jobs even before they graduated, which they were still at. They were all nice enough when you spoke to them a few times during orientation week. You hoped they could give you some pointers at least. But first, you had to get into town.

You took a group carriage to town to save some time. The inner parts of the city always exuded a faint glow, it seemed. Streets, buildings, and even people were lined with the best metals. Gold, iron, you name it. Even something as simple as a fence was perfectly crafted, symmetrical, and welded to fit together as one.

As soon as you got off the carriage, the walking began. The trip was exhausting. All on foot. The paved streets made it bearable, but the inclination upwards to certain places didn’t help.

You arrived at their workplaces one by one, and each time, you chatted with them for a bit and then mentioned what you needed:

“I need help tomorrow or in two days or so for the final assessment coming up. It would be a huge help to me if you could even though I know they change the test every year. It would be nice to know how broad the topics get. I’ll buy you lunch for it if you can!”

Sadly, their answers were kind but not exactly what you hoped to hear.

Emmeline said, “Sorry, I would but I have work and then I have to get home and wait for the plumber.”

Then came Theodore, “I can, just not tomorrow. Does next week work?”

Dorian responded, “I’m busy for five days or so in the evening, I have to babysit.”

And finally, Itsel, “Oh goodness! I’m so sorry! I’m leaving town today for a work trip.”

It was time to cut your losses. You thought you could wait for Theodore next week. Then again, you would either lose time by not studying.

I’ll just start studying now. Might as well. Something is better than nothing. You thought.

It was better to start now with no guidance than to not start at all.

However, there was a whole major to review. Every day counted. But studying everything would be too much content for a month of studying or less. That’s why you needed someone to help you narrow it down.

Whatever. I’ll start studying and if Theodore’s free still by next week he can help.

By the time you made it back to the academy, it was already three o'clock. Bad timing for sure. Students were getting out of class and rushing to the library to snag the tables and chairs. It’s not like you could grab a book and leave. Every single year during that month, without fail, everything was scarce. Chairs, seats, books, encyclopedias, even floor space.

So you ran.

Entering the building was chaotic. The main hallway on the first floor was packed with students and teachers. If you were to get there first, you had to find a shortcut. You looked to your left to the staircase and sprinted. A step or two were skipped in the process, but with a generous amount of stairs present, it was necessary. Winded from the run you walked through the third floor. Thankfully, it was almost free of students.

You whispered to yourself as you picked up the pace again, “Okay. I need a mathematical fundamentals book first. I hope the first semesters don’t take them all.”

You checked your bag for everything you needed for a long study session. Notebooks to write in, money for a snack or two, erasers, a ruler, and–

Oh, Janna.

There were no pens or pencils anywhere in your bag. You kept looking for one in denial. Hell, even a stubby one. Anything! Going back to your dorm for some would set you back ten valuable minutes at least, if you were to go fast. Although, you were going fast.

You just didn’t notice how fast you were going.

There has to be one in here–

“Careful!”

WHAM!

Your perfect quick pace was interrupted by a slam onto your abdomen. A rain of metal clangs sounded through the corridor as you fell backward. In between the pain, you noticed the person's shoes.

Another student.

“Oh. It’s you again.”

You looked up, wincing. It was the professor's assistant going into his lab.

What was his name again? Vincent? Viktor! Right.

“Yep. It’s me. Hi.” You grunted as you stood up. He offered his hand but you didn’t take it, putting your hand up, “I got it. Thanks.” You dusted yourself off and started picking up the tools that flew everywhere. “Sorry about that.”

“Be careful next time, otherwise I think you’ll walk off a balcony by accident one day.” Viktor slowly kneeled, holding onto the cart to pick up one of the wrenches on the ground. You handed him the rest of the tools and he set them with the others. It wasn’t exactly organized. Well, it probably was before you rammed into it.

“Yeah, I’ll do that.”

He started pushing the long metal cart into the lab once more, “Good to see you again.”

“You too.” You answered, rubbing your stomach in pain and walking away.

Sheesh. What a hit… Wait–

In an instant, your mind stacked a thought. An idea. A potential.

“Hey!” You turned on your heel. “Wait!”

The large door was about to close and then it stopped. A brief moment passed and Viktor peeked from the entry.

You sighed in relief. “Could I ask for a huge favor? If it’s not too much trouble, that is.”

He looked confused, then motioned you into the lab that mesmerized you the day before. You skipped towards the lab and he closed the door behind you. The place was lightly organized but still maintained Heimerdinger's charm with its pinch of chaos. Viktor sat down at the tall table in the middle and started transferring his tools to it.

“About the favor…” His voice was calm. “Would the favor include not crashing into the equipment?”

Man, you felt like he was rubbing it in. You smiled awkwardly. “Now it will.”

“Ask, then.”

You stayed near the door, only seeing him slightly from the side. “I’m having my final assessment soon.”

His head nodded once, and he said, “Your equation results went well, I assume?”

“Well…” You cringed. It wasn’t untrue, but it wasn’t what you expected.

He turned back to you, eyebrows furrowed, eyes wide. “Was there something wrong with it?”

“Not at all. I got a nine out of ten.”

“What? Why a nine?” His eyes shifted, looking for a reason. Viktor turned back to the tools with his hand on his chin. “It was efficient. Near perfect even.”

You huffed and mumbled, “Penmark said there was a smudge.”

“A smudge? Where?” He turned back again, with even more energy this time. This was a completely different person from the one you met the day before. He was entirely expressive. His expression was a mix of offended and flabbergasted.

“That’s what I thought. It’s barely noticeable.” At least you knew you weren’t going insane. That teacher was being overly strict.

“Is the favor getting him fired?” Viktor’s eyes narrowed.

Your eyes widened. “I didn’t say that… I don’t want to deal with him anymore, so it’s fine. He probably has a family. I wouldn’t want to get someone fired over nothing personal.”

His eyes returned to normal, and an almost untraceable smile was present when he returned to his task. “So then, what’s the favor?”

“Like I said, my final assessment is soon. I need help from someone who has already graduated to give me an idea of what to expect or how it goes.” Your mind wandered, remembering your failed attempts, “I went to every single upperclassman I knew, and they were all busy. Then I ran into you, and here we are.”

Viktor looked at you. “So you assume I’m not busy.” No emotion was on his face. Nothing. Not even a blink. He looked away.

Fuck.

Your hands waved frantically, and your words fell out in rapid succession, “No! I meant that I exhausted my options and I happened to run into you. More like crashing– Anyway, that's not the point–”

Any words you had planned to say halted. You saw Viktor’s head slightly tilted towards you. A small, barely traceable smirk was present on his face.

He wasn’t serious.

“You’re messing with me, right?”

He snorted.

First, a wave of relief washed over you. You were glad you didn’t offend him. Then came astonishment. He barely knew you, and he had the gall to make you socially panic?

“You had me there for a second.” You crossed your arms.

“I did, yes.” In his voice, you could hear a smile still present on his face.

“I was also planning on buying whoever said yes some lunch. I’ll be in the library today. Please let me know if you can.” You made your way to the door. “I know you are busy, but if you could please help me, I’d be extremely thankful.”

“Eh… I’ll make time.”

You looked back in shock, “So you’ll help me?” Was this it? You found someone willing to help? Who would have guessed that crashing into someone would become something good?

“Yes. Coffee would be nice. It could be at the Academy if you prefer.”

The university's coffee wasn’t bad, but not great. And very overpriced for its taste. You opted for something else, “Do you know a place outside of the university?”

He turned in his chair and searched for a memory with his eyes. “There’s a small coffee shop around Midtown I’ve been to before. How about there?”

“Sure, I can meet you there.”

“I’m available tomorrow after three o’clock. We could meet there at four.” Viktor scanned his eyes across the table until they landed on a pen. With a soft click of its end, he prepared it for writing, “It’s called ‘Cogs of Coffee.’ Brown brick with a gear behind the sign.” He tore one of the corners of a sheet of paper, wrote it down, and handed it to you, “Hard to miss.”

You walked a few steps toward him and took the paper. His writing was fancy and slanted, with some letters connecting, bordering on cursive.

“Cogs of Coffee…” You read and nodded, “Yeah, I know where it is. See you there at four then?”

“Four it is.”

The walk back to your dorm was relieving. Finally, someone who could help. You were definitely going to buy him coffee in the best mood possible. The library could wait. You were already out of luck for a spot anyway. For now, you could rest without guilt. Hell, you even had a smile on your face as you pranced to your dorm.

Sky was cleaning her desk when you came in. She raised an eyebrow with a smile, “Someone looks happy. And rested.”

“Yes, very.” You were practically beaming. Even putting your things away felt fun and light.

“Were any of the upperclassmen available to help, then?”

“Something like that.”

After having some security, the day flew by in a blink. As did the night.

You knew you could pass the final, but you didn’t want to risk it. You had an even bigger chance to make it. Thanks to the kindness of an upperclassman you barely knew. Among your thoughts, you hoped to live up to the potential your parents knew you had. You hoped to have a stable job, and contribute something to the world. It all felt so close.

The next morning was pleasant. You didn’t know if it was the weather or your mood. Honestly, you couldn't care any less. You were solely focused on getting to Midtown for lunch. With your bag packed with the same notebooks from yesterday, but now accompanied by pens, you headed out.

Midtown was always full no matter the season or the hour. The area always bustled and sang with hundreds of people roaming through its endless shops and vendors. Everything was always on sale. Whatever you were looking for, they had it. Books, pens, tools, pets, clothes, you name it. The most remarkable thing about it was the food. Heavens, the food.

You hadn’t ever gotten around to trying everything because of the sheer amount of food that was available. There were shops, tents, and carts ready to offer you the very best of the best. All the cooks seemed to be masters of their craft. The best thing ever had been mashed potatoes and gravy from a cook from Bilgewater. Holy smokes. It was the right consistency, the perfect amount of spices.

Now it was time to try a new coffee place. You’d been to a few before, but never the one Viktor suggested. In between the crowds of people, you looked for the shop. Gear behind the name. Brown brick.

After a block or two, there it was on a corner. Cogs of Coffee. It had a golden sign, as they usually were in Piltover, with large arched windows on its sides. Its quaint white door waited for you in the center. A light bell rang as you walked in, being greeted by a sweet smell mixed in with the strong coffee scent. The floors were dark polished wood and its walls dark green and plastered in framed newspaper headlines, insect mounts, and flower presses.

Not many people were in it, to your surprise. The ten tables were only a third of the way filled, and the booths were empty. All but one.

A voice calling your name came from the booths on the left side of the shop. Viktor sat with his hand up giving half a wave. You waved as you shuffled to the booth and scooted in, “Have you been waiting long?”

Viktor rolled up the sleeves of his uniform, “Eh, just a few minutes. The waitress already brought a menu.” He slid it towards you, “If you want to look it over.”

“Thanks, I will.” You took off your bookbag and skimmed through it.

The menu was simple, albeit pretty extensive. Some of the options were:

Honeyfruit Tea (Cold Brew)

Kiwa infused coffee

Regular coffee (Custom preparation)

Chocolate biscuits

Sweetmilk muffins

Non-Poro Poro Snax

Milkshakes (Chocolate, Vanilla, Berry)

“I recommend the sweetmilk muffins. The regular coffee is great too,” Viktor interrupted.

You tilted your head at the menu. “They sound good. We can order them.”

One of the waitresses came to your table with a smile and her blonde hair in a messy bun. “Good afternoon, I’ll be your server for today! Are you two ready to order?” Her hand waited on her paper pad.

Viktor went first, “Yes, thank you. I’ll have the, uh, regular coffee, with the sugars and glasses of milk on the side so we can mix it here.”

“Sounds good.” She wrote in her notepad and turned to you with a practiced smile. "And you?”

“I’ll have the same.” You looked at the menu one last time, turned to her, and said, “and an order of sweetmilk muffins. Please.”

“Alright! So, two coffees and the muffins.” She tapped the edge of her notepad as she went through the short order. “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” she held her hand out for the menu. “If there’s anything else, let me know!”

The light conversation and clinks from cups filled the brief silence as the waitress left. Viktor rested his hands on the wooden table and asked, “did you bring a pen and paper?” His voice pulled you out of the hum coming from the mixture of noises.

You scrambled for the items. “Oh, yeah.”

Viktor spent the time elaborating on how much time the test would last, the rules, and the sections of the test. It wasn’t anything you hadn’t heard before from teachers, but hearing it from another student in more casual words made a world of difference. There would be three sections that never changed: Language, theoretical mathematics, and applied engineering. Applied engineering was what worried you. He said it was more about logic rather than calculating, which made it very subjective.

By the time your order came, he had gotten to the interesting bit: The potential subjects.

He thanked the waitress and continued. “Don’t stress about the minor subjects in topics. Focus on the main part of a topic.” Starting to pour some beige milk into his coffee, he explained, “for example, you have topic one, right? And the topic has sections, with each section elaborating more as you go on. Stick to the first two sections, which are the most important. I noticed that when I took it.”

“So… I should just study the general part of every topic?” You took a bite of the golden muffins. By Janna, they were amazing. Creamy and fluffy all at once. Surprise was plastered all over your face.

“If I’m honest,” he stirred his coffee, if you could even call it that, since it was ninety percent milk. “I don't think you need to study as much. Heimerdinger says you're bright enough.” Viktor raised his eyebrows at you and took a drink.

He did?

What a compliment. The founder of the city thinking you were competent wasn’t something you expected.

“He said that? When?”

He sighed from the taste of his drink. “I asked him to leave earlier today to come here with you. He mentioned you were one of the best in class.”

“Wow.”

“He also added that even if that was the case, it was good you looked for extra help.” Viktor looked up, trying to remember. “Eh, something like... A stitch in time saves nine.”

You smiled and replied, “the professor and his metaphors.”

“Still, don't overwork yourself. You have enough time. Worry when you have none left.”

You wrote down all of his advice, and at the bottom of the page, you wrote: You’re smart, relax.

At a point in the afternoon, you began talking about mundane things. You learned Viktor was a work-study student in the master’s program, working on his invention as his thesis. He couldn’t say what it was because of confidentiality, but that when it was done, it would be on display if you were interested.

Amidst the conversation, a little question rang in the back of your mind.

Is his name with a ‘C’ or with a ‘K’?

You decided to ask. “By the way–”

He looked attentive until the waitress came by with a smile and stopped you both. “Are you two doing good? Would you like the check? Or not yet?”

Viktor looked at you, asking the same question in silence. You nodded with a shrug.

“Yes, please. The check is fine,” he said, handing the waitress his empty mug and yours. “Thank you.”

You hadn’t even realized you had finished your drink.

“I have to get back soon.” Lifting his sleeve, he checked the time on a thin brown watch. “I need to pick up some ball joints for the project I told you about.”

“Yeah. It's getting late. I have to run too.”

The waitress walked to your booth as you looked around for your wallet. Just when you found it, you looked up, and Viktor had placed the amount with some tip in the folder for the waitress. She took it, told you to have a nice day, and left.

You were speechless. The whole point was for you to pay as a thank you, and he didn’t let you do that. “Wasn’t I supposed to buy you the coffee?”

He looked puzzled. Then he understood. “I wasn’t doing this for coffee.” Viktor stood up and took his cane. “I just wanted to help.”

“Thank you, really. For the help, the coffee, and muffins. Good recommendation, by the way.”

You both walked out of the coffee shop and were greeted by the same busy street as before, only less sunny.

Viktor took his cane from his right hand to his left and extended his hand toward you. “If you ever need anything else, you know where to find me.”

You shook his hand and chuckled. “Thanks. I promise I won’t crash into you if I come looking for you.”

“I’d appreciate it.” He smiled.

Viktor waved down a carriage going in the opposite direction of the university.

Before he could leave, you interjected. “Oh. One last thing.”

He looked back at you. “Hm?”

“Are you any good at explaining math?” you asked.

“I tutor in the evenings for the Academy twelfth graders and the university's first-year students. So you tell me.”

“Oh, so you tutor, too? So… no fourth-year students?” You didn’t want to be too forward by saying you wanted to go.

Thankfully, he caught on to what you meant to say. “You can come, if that's what you’re asking. I see various topics. It’ll jog your memory. If you have something specific you want to cover, I can do that too.”

The open carriage came to a stop for him, and he gave a silver coin to the driver. He opened the door and stepped onto it.

“That would be great.” Amazing, actually. You didn't necessarily need the tutoring, but the extra practice was always useful.

He sat down, and the carriage started to move. “Room fifteen in Wing Five. Seven o’clock in the evening.”

You raised your voice to confirm. “Got it. Fifteen, Wing Five.”

#extra long chapter because i made you wait :( i was getting engaged and i quit my job and im moving LMAO #viktor arcane #viktor x reader #arcane #league of legends #in the blue hours of the morning #ao3 author curse #thank you for all the amazing comments here and on ao3 #they meant so much to me <3

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