#i have covered paper plates front and back. scribbled in pen on the inside of water bottle wrappers. literally stolen paper from nearby | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

smarchit · 2 years

Text

Ghost Writer, chapter 2

It seems the still unseen recipient of your letters has gotten bolder. He's taken to leaving you letters of his own at crime scenes. Good thing your new friend Edward is there to help you decode them.

A few days after you wrote your commissioned piece to the Riddler, Gordon was waiting for you in your office when you arrived.

"Long day?" he asked when you threw yourself into your chair.

You glared at him and stifled a massive yawn. It was his fault, really. Gordon had you writing several new letters daily to the Riddler in the paper and it was beginning to take a toll on you. Even with daily help from Edward, the sweet, if not a little awkward, man you had met at the corner diner, you were still exhausted. The stress from constantly looking over your shoulder was wearing you down.

"I think we need another one," he said. He leaned across the desk and handed you a new cipher. "A new message to the Riddler. A response to a letter. This was found at the crime scene we were called to last night. It's for you."

Your heart dropped to your toes. He wrote you a letter? That didn't bode well for you.

Gordon must've sensed your unease because he held up a reassuring hand to quell your negative thoughts. He leaned back and gestured for you to open the red envelope.

Your name was scribbled across the front in jagged, uneven handwriting. A little heart was drawn under your name. The message couldn't have been more clear.

With shaking hands you peeled off the sticker that held the envelope closed. The card slid out easily into your hand and you discarded the empty envelope into the wastebasket beside your desk.

The card was small and heart shaped, with two cherubic figures painted on the front. Based on the style and the feel of the paper in your hands, you pegged the card at being at least sixty years old. A cute, yet terrified couple stared up at you from the card's front, their arms locked around each other. A ghost in a white sheet lurked in the background, waiting to spook the couple. "Just ghost to show you, you're the one for me," the text read.

You opened the card and saw what was written in that same shaky handwriting. Your hands shook slightly as you dropped the card onto your desk as if it burned your fingertips.

"What is it?" Gordon asked. He looked at your card for a moment before he sat back in his chair and ran a hand over his chin, deep in thought.

"It's a message for me," you whispered. "It's a cipher."

The other side of the card was covered in that same frantic cipher, scribbled across the paper in the same, uneven hand. It wasn't a code you recognized, and definitely not one that Gordon had given you from previous crime scenes.

"Jesus," you whispered. "I'll... I need to work on this one. I need a break. This is--- it's too much. I'll have your next set of letters tomorrow, okay?"

You quickly gathered your things and nearly ran out of your office, not caring that you left the Lieutenant in your office.

The sun was just beginning to set as you ran towards the diner. You needed Edward's help on the cipher the Riddler had sent you. He was the only person you knew that would be able to help you solve this code.

The diner was mostly empty when you burst in. The few customers inside shot daggers at you for disturbing their dinner, but only one gave you a small smile.

"Edward," you gasped. "I need you!"

Edward's round face turned a deep shade of crimson at your words and he started to stammer out an awkward response before you waved your hand in his face.

"I need your help!" you said. "Please."

Edward nodded and slid his plate back a little. "Y-yeah. Uh, is it another code?"

You nodded and thrust the card into his hands and took a seat at the counter beside him.

Edward smiled a little as his eyes flicked across the cryptic message that the Riddler had left you. He gleefully took a pen out of his coat pocket and tore a napkin from the dispenser in front of him.

He quickly showed you the key to the code, penned beneath the signature on the card. Yours forever, the Riddler.

"So what you have is just a partial key," he said softly. "Some letters repeat in the code, so if you write out what you have, you can figure it out from there. Look, here's the one for "yours," it repeats four times."

After about ten minutes of your own careful assistance and with Edward's gentle encouragement, the finished cipher sat before you on the paper napkin, penned in your neat hand.

Edward read the riddle to you, his quiet voice easily delivering the Riddler's puzzle.

"If you have me, you want to share me. If you share me, you no longer have me," he said softly. His eyes flicked up to scan your face as you pondered what it meant.

"Trust?" you wondered aloud.

Edward's head tilted almost imperceptibly to the left. Green eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he considered your answer.

After a moment, you gasped. One hand flew to your mouth. "It's a secret! The answer is a secret! Once you have one, you want to tell someone, but then it's no longer a secret!"

Edward beamed. He looked almost proud that you answered it so quickly. "I'm glad I could help you. But why would this Riddler guy think you have a secret?"

You thought for a moment and then shook your head. The only secret you had was... oh, Christ. The only secret you had was Edward's help with the codes and letters.

"I don't know," you said softly. Your heart thumped in your chest. How could he possibly have known? Was he watching you? Could he see you even now?

A tense, uneasy silence lingered between you and Edward. You looked over his shoulder at the diner's occupants. Two old men were seated in the corner booth, and a sleepy student with pink hair and an art portfolio was sprawled out in the wide booth on the other corner. They were the only other patrons besides you and Edward.

You jumped out of your seat when your cell rang. You answered it quickly and Edward patiently waited for you to finish your call.

"It's Gordon," came the greeting. "Did you figure out the message yet?"

You glanced at Edward and then nodded. "Yes, yeah."

"Good," he replied. "We need a letter for tomorrow. I'd say just use one you have ready, but I think it needs to be a direct response to his message. We're getting a response from him."

"He replied already?"

"Not exactly," Gordon said. You could hear chatter in the background, and what sounded like a camera shutter. "Your article was shoved in the mouth of his latest victim. Hundreds of copies were scattered around him like confetti. He's noticed what you're doing."

"Jesus. Is there another letter?"

"Not this time," he said. It sounded like he hesitated before he continued. "He just circled your picture from the article and wrote "niña bonita" under it before he stuffed it into our victim's mouth."

You put your hand over your mouth in shock. This was getting out of hand.

"Please," he said, "We need that letter. I'll be by your office tomorrow afternoon to pick it up."

You hung up the call before he could say anything else. Pretty girl. He called you a pretty girl. Your stomach churned and you tried to calm your racing heart.

"Is everything okay?" Edward asked. He put one cool hand on your arm and you nearly jumped out of your skin.

You'd forgotten he was there, honestly.

"Fine," you said quickly. "I'm fine. I, uh, yeah. I'm fine. I need to write another letter. A new one. A response to something the Riddler did."

"Oh," Edward said. He looked down at his half eaten slice of pie and pushed it away quickly. "Let's get started then!"

"No!" you said, perhaps a bit too loudly. "Not here. This is probably something we should do in private. I don't think the public knows what happened yet. I mean, I don't even know what happened yet!"

Edward nodded and nervously tapped his fingers on the counter. He glanced at you and then away when he made eye contact.

"My apartment isn't that far," you said after a moment. "Will you come with me? I mean, I-I really don't want to be alone right now."

His head snapped up when you asked him to come over. His eyes grew impossibly wider behind his glasses and he looked like he was about to faint.

"Y-yeah," he stammered. That same deep blush from earlier creeped up his neck, cheeks, and ears.

"You're the best," you said softly. You dropped a few dollars on the counter to pay for his food. "Do you mind if we stop at the liquor store on our way there? I need a fucking drink."

Edward smiled and zipped up his coat and followed you out the door. "Not at all. Lead the way."

#the batman #dano riddler #riddler x reader #riddler x you #reader fic #my writing

86 notes · View notes

sukifans · 3 years

Note

aahhh I’m so excited I love your writing!!! your sokka “help me” fic is one of my favs ever I seriously think about it at least twice a week. in a similar vein, would you be able to combine prompts 10 & 12 for sokka x fem!reader? thank you!!! :)

SOKKA + “can i try that new chapstick? i wanna have a taste” + “i hadn’t noticed but my sweet, funny, goofy best friend is kind of hot, especially since they’ve been on this fitness kick”

⇦ 𝘔𝘈𝘚𝘛𝘌𝘙𝘓𝘐𝘚𝘛

“nastiest skank bitches” Group Message

loml: ladies, i need a girls night

loml: desperately

babygorl: god i’m down, this semester blows

fugly slut <3: i’m in!! always here for a girls night 🥰

loml: y/n??

you: gals. pals. as much as i would love to...

fugly slut <3: ughhhhhhhhh

babygorl: you better not be blowing us off for sokka again istg

you: 😅

loml: TRAITOR BITCH

fugly slut <3: HOES BEFORE BROS

babygorl: WHORE

you: bruh.mp3

you: he’s coming by after the gym to help me with my physics homework!!! I NEED THE HELP PLS I PROMISE ILL BE THERE NEXT TIME

babygorl: lying is a sin y/n

babygorl: sinner

loml: if sokka’s gonna b there maybe she’ll be sinning in........ other ways...... ahaha

loml: fuckboy_emoji.jpg

fugly slut <3: when you gonna tap that fr

you: NEVER LITERALLY NO EW

you: HE’S MY BEST FRIEND

you: UNLIKE YOU RATS

fugly slut <3: he do b kinda yummy tho liiiike 👀

you: STOP

loml: yeah he’s hot sorry queen

you: HE’S NOT HOT

babygorl: i almost hate to admit it but...

babygorl: his biceps 🥴

fugly slut <3 emphasized “his biceps 🥴”

loml loved “his biceps 🥴”

you: hey! i hate u guys! jsyk!

fugly slut <3 disliked “hey! i hate u guys! jsyk!”

babygorl disliked “hey! i hate u guys! jsyk!”

loml disliked “hey! i hate u guys! jsyk!”

babygorl: uh huh yeah sure

loml: yall hear sumn?

NEW MESSAGE from sokka :^)

“hey i’m omw up!”

you: whatever you guys suck

you: i gtg

fugly slut <3: AND YOU SWALLOW

babygorl: bye girly!! get that bestie dick!!

loml: save a car, ride an engineering major >:)

you: desgostang.jpg

You dropped your phone onto the bed next to you with a groan. Your friends really and truly could be such freaks about your relationship with Sokka—or lack thereof. They’d been especially adament ever since he started some stupid bet with Zuko about who could get the most “gains” by graduation, incited by Aang making the mistake of commenting on Zuko’s more pronounced muscle mass.

Idiots.

That’s what Sokka was. Your idiotic best friend, who was funny, and sweet, and intelligent. You loved him, of course, but not like that. And he was not hot.

Definitely not.

The pounding on your dorm door interrupted your musings before Sokka let himself in, dropping his gym bag on the floor and kicking off his slides. His hair was loose and still damp from his post-workout shower and he wore slim joggers with a loose muscle tee.

“Hey!” He smiled brightly when he spotted you sitting in your bed. “What’s up?”

“The usual.” You moved your legs out of the way so he could flop down onto your mattress. “How was the gym?”

Sokka groaned. “Cardio. I’m already sore.” He stretched his arms up to fold behind his head, pulling his muscles taut.

Hm. He does kind of have nice biceps...

You shook yourself internally. Thoughts like these had been creeping out of your subconscious for weeks now, no thanks to your rabid friends.

“My leg’s been killing me, though,” he continued, rubbing his opposite foot across the skin that covered that metal pins and plates holding his bones together after a nasty break in high school. The leg often still gave him problems, ranging from the dull ache he could ignore on the day-to-day, to throbbing pain that left him limping.

You frowned, looking away from his arms to meet his eyes. “You should probably rest up before you hurt yourself,” you said.

“I’ll be fine.” He shrugged and propped himself up on his elbows. “Gotta catch up to Zuko, y’know.”

“Why? You’re already taller than him.”

“So? I wanna be more yolked, too.”

You rolled your eyes. “Buncha dumbasses.”

Sokka quirked an eyebrow. “You want this dumbass to help with your physics homework or not?”

“Haha,” you chuckled nervously, “just kidding, buddy! I meant Zuko and Aang. You—definitely not a dumbass. Nope.”

“That’s what I thought.” He shot you a smug look as he pushed up to sit cross-legged across from you on the bed. He held his hand out with a dramatic, world-weary sigh. “Alright, give it here.”

You opened your laptop to pull up the website that hosted your homework practice problems. “You know I love you, right?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, grabbing a notebook and pen from your desk to work out the math as you handed over the computer. He paused before standing to retrieve his bag, plopping it on your desk chair so he could root through it and pull out his glasses case. You felt your cheeks warm a little when he set the frames on the bridge of his nose.

Fine—he was kinda cute. You could concede that without having to dig too deep into your somewhat jumbled feelings for your best friend.

But you would certainly not “tap that.”

Well...

No. You would not.

You watched his eyes flick over the screen as he tapped the pen against his chin, catching the cap between his teeth while he thought about the formulas he’d learned in a past semester. He nodded to himself and started scribbling out a diagram and the math to go with it. You found yourself a little mesmerized by the way he simply just knew what to do, confidently scratching away at the paper as easily as one might write the alphabet. Your eyes trailed from his long fingers and calloused hand sweeping over the page, up his toned arm (lingering on his bicep a little longer), and to his face. He chewed at the inside of his cheek in concentration, sometimes parting his lips to murmur the logic to himself.

For someone who often said a lot of stupid shit, he sure had a pretty mouth.

You considered what he might do if you snatched a fistful of his shirt and yanked him into a kiss. Would he shove you away and leave? Awkwardly but kindly reject you? Or, would he kiss you back—throw the work out of the way and grab your face to coax you in deeper? Maybe push you back onto the bed and—

“Okay, so basically—”

Jesus Christ, get a fucking grip.

“—from the problem and draw it out like this to apply the formula, yeah?”

Sokka looked to you expectantly and you blinked at him as your face burned. “Sorry, I zoned out. What did you say?”

“C’mon, I know you hate physics but you gotta at least pay attention to me if you wanna pass,” he teased, shifting close enough that the sides of your bodies pressed together. Was it getting warmer in your room, or was it just your best friend?

He launched into the explanation again and you nodded along while internally willing the blood to leave your cheeks. Even as your thoughts ricocheted around inside your skull he managed to break it down in a way that somewhat made sense. He sat back and watched as you slowly worked through the next problem. You glanced up when you heard a soft pop to see him applying chapstick.

“Is that a new flavor?” you asked.

“Yeah, chocolate orange or something.” He held the tube out to you. “Wanna try?”

Fuck it.

Before your rationality could catch up you pressed a hand to his cheek to turn his head and pulled him in for a kiss. Your lips only slotted together for a brief moment before you pulled back to stare wide-eyed at each other. You could feel the fire creeping from your cheeks down your neck, mirrored in the reddening of his tanned skin.

He blinked. You blinked.

The chapstick slipped from between his fingers. Rationality arrived late.

You bolted.

“Uh, see ya later!” you shouted as you threw the door open and rushed out of the room.

“Wait, (Y/N)—“

You didn’t stick around to hear the end of his desperate call. Even thought it was your dorm and you were barefoot you still raced down the hall, wincing at the sound of a door slamming behind you.

“(Y/N)!”

Damn that lanky bastard. You were booking it and he was already hot on your heels. You barreled into the door leading to the stairwell and almost made it down the first step when he grabbed you around the waist and yanked you back. Despite your struggles, the arm hooked across your middle was unyielding until he pushed you into the corner and crowded you against the wall, hands caging you in from either side. Your heart was racing and you weren’t sure if it was because of your escape attempt or that he was close enough you could smell his body wash and deodorant. It was almost enough to make your head spin.

“Sokka, I-I don’t know why—I’m sorry, please, I shouldn’t’ve—“

“(Y/N),” he said firmly and your mouth snapped shut. “Why did you run away?”

“Uh, I—well, um...” You shrunk down against the wall and swallowed hard. “I-I don’t know.”

“You didn’t even give me a chance to respond.”

“Look—“ You paused and stared at him once you processed what he said. “What?”

He laughed, dropping one of his hands to brush against your cheek before threading into your hair to cup the base of your skull. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what?”

With that he surged forwards and kissed you enthusiastically, making you gasp into his mouth. You balled your hands into the front of his shirt to keep yourself steady as you melted into him. His free hand pressed into your lower back to bring you in closer. His tongue slipped out to tease at your bottom lip and he chuckled when you had to quickly grab his shoulders as your knees almost buckled.

“Get that,” he murmured against your lips, pressing his forehead to yours as the two of you gasped for air.

“Oh,” you breathed, “that.” You hummed happily when he kissed you again, his stubble scratching against your chin and under your palms when you cupped his face.

You both looked up when a stairwell door somewhere above you slammed open, followed by a group of jostling male voices. Sokka grinned when you glanced at him with wide eyes and shiny, swollen lips. You tried to hide behind him as the clamor bounded closer and closer. The group of guys rounded the next flight and gave shouts of recognition upon seeing you two standing against the wall.

“Sokka!”

“Hey, man!”

“Hey, guys,” Sokka said, holding his hand up in greeting.

“What’s up?”

“Oh, is that (Y/N)?”

“Nice, dude!”

“Ah, yeah...” He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck and you raised an eyebrow at his turned head. They all cheered and congratulated him, slapping his back as they passed and disappeared down the next set of stairs. When Sokka met your eyes again you cocked your head.

“Who were they?” you asked.

“Honestly, I’m not sure.”

“Sokka.”

“My reputation precedes me, what can I say?”

“Mine doesn’t.”

“Well—“ he suddenly became very interested in the underside of the stairs above you “—my reputation may or may not involve talking about you. A lot, apparently.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t do it on purpose!” he interjected quickly, taking your hands in his. “It’s just—I dunno, I guess I think about you a lot, so...”

“Oh.”

“Fuck, okay, that sounded weird.” You laughed a little at his embarrassed floundering. “I just mean, like, things that remind me of you or, y’know, stories that involve you...” he trailed off, flushing at your amused smile. “Stop it!”

“Stop what?”

“Making fun of me!”

“I didn’t say anything,” you giggled, hooking your arms around his neck.

“You’re still laughing at me,” he whined, lips turning into a frown. His hands slipped back down to your waist.

“You’re cute.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Without preamble, he ducked down and hoisted you over his shoulder as you shrieked in protest. “Sokka! Put me down!”

“No can do, baby; we have unfinished business to attend to.” He said as he marched you back in the direction of your room.

“You’re gonna finish my physics homework?”

“Nope.”

Oh.

A/N: 2k words bc, again, i have no self control. thank you for the request!

ATLA TAGS: @hotgirlazula @octophopi @blazedbakugou @protect-remus @akiris @sunflowerazula @wooscottoncandyhair @chewymoustachio @ohno-caroline @sunflowerr-mami @1vitamin @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @u-4iia @nymeria-targaryen @tommy-braccoli @dizzy-miss-lizzieeeeee @a-sloppy-bitch @nomin-rights @siriuslyslyslytherin @starryncn

SOKKA TAGS: @fiantomartell @avatarayeaye @zvkta @sher-lockedmarvel @grandmascottlang @captainshazamerica @yuesallura

#sokka x reader #sokka x you #sokka x y/n #x sokka #sokka fluff #sokka imagine #sokka fic #atla sokka #atla x reader #sokka #mine #requests #atla fic #avatar the last airbender

310 notes · View notes

glitterge1pen · 3 years

Text

Have You Ever Considered Craft Supplies Instead Of Drugs? Then This Might Be For You.

Kyōtani Kentarou x reader, sfw, fluff, 1,691word count

His room for the most part was clean. It’s main function was for sleep though. This was apparent. His clothes, which were mainly basketball shorts and blank t-shirts, were scattered about in a way that told you he threw them there when going to bed.

Kyotani had told you to give him a few minutes, while he was in the bathroom brushing his teeth and struggling with the cap of his eyeliner pen. You felt comfortable enough in his apartment to check the fridge and see if anything was worth your while. But still you felt a bit like an intruder in his bedroom, which is where you had wandered off to.

The walls were white, mostly bare. There was a poster up for some band you didn't recognize, and another one advertising the Sendai Frogs that looked like he had ripped it off one wall to get onto his. You smiled at the thought of him stealing the poster from the grocery store display window or stadium parking lot.

You give his room one last once over before turning to leave. On your way out you trip over a shoe box. You would have just ignored it but a few tufts of paper flew out from the lid. You bend down to collect them but find that these aren't just trash from the shoe box. Quietly, and with a tinge of guilt, you kneel down to gently put the papers back in the box. The little scraps of paper you had found were actually sticky notes, you couldn't decipher the writing on them because of how faded and old the paper was.

You get one quick glimpse inside the shoe box on Kyotani’s floor. There are dozens of papers, printed photos, receipts, tickets, and what you assume are old keys. You feel like you've seen something very private of Kyotani’s and when you turn around to find him standing in the doorway, you gasp in shock.

“What are you doing in here?”

He seems more concerned and confused about you versus the fact that you are in his room. You decide sarcasm is the best choice of action.

“What? You embarrassed about me being in your bedroom?”

“Shut up and get out!”

Kyotani puts his hands on your shoulders and tosses you out into the hallway.

“Hey, hey, what time is it because we might actually be late to the movie now,”

You say pulling out your phone to get a glance at the clock. There was only twenty minutes before you were supposed to be at the theater.

“We’ll be fine, the trailers always play for too long anyways”

He says leading you out the front door.

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

When the team wins a game and you head out to eat with the guys afterwards, your eyes don't usually follow Kyotani’s hands so closely. You hope that no one else has picked up on your new habit. But last week's venture into his bedroom has left you reeling in thought.

Kyotani doesn't really like to be hugged. During movie nights he sits separate from the pile of pillows and bodies. He tolerates head pats and high fives. When he hangs up the phone you can feel how difficult it is for him to say something like “bye I love you” platonic or not.

You hadn't really considered it before, at least not so intently in relation to Kyotani. Most people were easy to understand in their affections and how they garnered it. Or if they weren't so obvious, they made some sort of distinction, a simple “I don't like when people do this” or “I prefer this”.

Being friends with Kyotani you had assumed that he was content with what people gave him because he never asked for more. He didn't hug you when you two parted ways, and you never forced him to. He didn't ask or push on others boundaries but now after seeing that shoe box you wondered why he had never advocated for his own. You thought perhaps it wasnt that Kyotani disliked those other forms of affection or care, but rather he didn't regard those other acts as affections at all.

The sounds of the restaurant fade back in as your thoughts simmer down. You feel Tsukishima and Yamaguchi next to you. Enthralled in a conversation about some show they had been binging together. Apparently Yamaguchi had watched a few episodes without Tsukishima and everyone found the annoyed, bitter expression on Tsukishima hilarious, the table erupting in laughter.

“You good? You've been staring at nothing for five minutes,”

Kyotani said to you before taking another bite into his food. He sat across from you, his elbows propping him up over his plate of food.

“Yeah, just tired today,”

You say shaking your head as if trying to wake yourself up.

As the evening wears on, your eyes still follow Kyotani’s hands. Trying to catch the moment of thievery in action. To see if your contemplations are grounded in Kyotani’s actions or rather thoughts with nothing to hold as they pass you by.

But as everyone files out of the restaurant, the bill already split, the copy of the receipt abandoned on the table, you watch as Kyotani lingers for just a moment, to pocket the slip of paper.

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

You couldn't remember the last time you had attempted to burn a CD. Was it you who did it or a friend? It was years ago though that was for sure. You had made three playlists on spotify, checking and double checking that they were private playlists. After arranging them and finding the songs that fit just right with each list you started finding youtube videos of each song. From there you converted the links to MP3 audio.

While your computer whirred and the audio filed loaded onto the disk you thought about decorating the CD cases. Of course covering the clear plastic case with glitter gel pen and cute stickers was very tempting. But you weren't sure that was Kyotani’s style. At the same time this was supposed to be a gift from you. You met yourself halfway. Decorating one CD case like how you would have wanted, and the other with more of a Kyotani flair, the third somewhere in between the two.

When the CD’s were done you carefully placed them into their new plastic homes. Grabbing a black sharpie to scribble the playlist names onto each. You felt like wrapping them would be too extravagant so you settled for tying a ribbon around the two.

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

“What the hell do you want?” Kyotani says as he pulls up next to you on the curb outside your place. You had texted him earlier while he was at work, asking if could stop by after he got off. He has the window rolled down and you take it upon yourself to unlock the passenger door and climb inside.

"I wanted you to test these out"

You were hoping that you had done everything right with the computer.You hand him the CD's, he flips them over in his hands inspecting them.

“Is it cool if I take these ribbons off?”

You nod and he turns the car radio on to insert the CD’s. As the first song starts playing you turn to him.

“This is that band you like right? The one on that poster in your room?”

Kyotani is visibly flustered by this.

“Yes? Did you...did you make these for me?”

You throw your head back in a laugh.

“Yes, I made them for you,”

“Oh,”

He says in a rather soft amazed tone.

“Look, I didn't mean to, but when I was in your room the other day I tripped over that shoe box you have,”

You keep your eyes trained on the street outside the dashboard window. Unsure and a bit nervous to see what Kyotani is thinking. Tempted by curiosity though, you do look at him for a brief moment, only to find him also intensely staring off into the street. His face lit up red with embarrassment.

“I’m glad that I saw it though. Because that stuff is important to you and I want to know what you think is important”

The air in the car feels like it is clinging to your skin with tension. You think the pressure will start to crack your bones when Kyotani’s voice splinters the suspense.

“It's easier to feel something when its tangible, when you can hold it, it's why people still buy polaroids and go to museums and shit”

You nod, a jovial ease overcoming you as he continues to speak.

“I don't really like, uh, I guess physical affection or even talking or it’s not like talking, people call it words of affirmation or whatever,”

You hold the smile of your lips down, you don't want him to think you’re teasing him in this moment. You're just happy that he is comfortable enough with you to say such things.

“I know lots of other people like to have those types of things though, and I worked really hard to get used to stuff, but I don't know, this is what I like,”

He says gesturing with the CD case to you.

“I mean so like, birthday cards, post-it notes, bus transfers? Things that are directly attached to memories and people? Anything else you want me to know about?”

While it hurts a little that he’s struggling to talk about this matter, you can't help but revel in the unusual brash shyness of Kyotani. He does mutter something, but when you lean in closer to signal that you didn't hear him the first time he repeats himself.

“Event pamphlets. I know it's trash but I like it”

“Promise you won't get mad?”

You drawl your voice out and make it sweet so he knows you're messing with him.

“Hm?”

He says, eyebrow quirked in question.

“I think you'd be really into scrapbooking”

“Shut the hell up before I kick you out of my car”

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

A/N: Took a break from my current writing obsession to spit this out .

#kyotani x reader #kyōtani kentarō #kyoutani kentarou #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #kyoutani kentarou x reader

101 notes · View notes

pro-fangirls-unsocial-life · 3 years

Text

Cinnamon Roll Sweetness

A/N: Happy Valentines day everyone! Have some soft modern CodyWan. I cannot for the life of me find the art that inspired this but if you see this and you made that cute bakery art, thank you so much for the inspiration! Message me so that I can link back to it and give you credit!

Length: ~1500 words

Warnings: None :) just pure fluff

“Better hurry Cody. You wouldn’t want to miss your favorite customer, now would you?”

“Shut-up Rex! I’m working as fast as I can!” Cody throws a look over his shoulder at his smirking younger brother, kneading the dough on the counter in front of him intensely.

He feels a hand on his shoulder, and briefly looks at Wolffe who now stands beside him.

“You go wash up; I’ll finish this for you.”

Cody immediately starts walking toward the sink, untying his apron from behind his back. “Thanks, Wolffe. You’re a lifesaver.” He pulls the apron up over his head and hangs it up, turning on the water so that he can wash the flower off of his hands.

“You finally gonna ask him out today?” Wolffe says, rolling up his sleeves.

Cody stills for a moment, shock briefly coming over his face before he can catch it.

He shrugs, trying to act nonchalant. “What do you mean?”

He hears Rex huff. “He means that you used to hate working the front until you met that man. And that the two of you make heart eyes at each other from the moment he walks in the door until he leaves.”

“Hey! I do not—”

“Don’t deny it Cody. We can all see it,” Wolffe says, not looking away from the dough he is kneading.

Cody whips around, yanking the towel off of its hook to dry his hands. “Whose side are you on?”

Wolffe stops kneading and turns toward his older brother. “Yours. But Cody, you must see that you are head over heels for this guy and that he seems to have quite a fondness for you too.”

“I,” Cody sputters.

“Think about it vod,” Rex says as he gathers up the man’s usual order. “You only work the front for him. Every Friday he comes in to pick up the exact same order at exactly the same time. He is precise, getting here at exactly ten every time. But haven’t you noticed?”

Cody stares at Rex, annoyance on his face as he urges him to continue.

Rex rolls his eyes. “You really are hopeless.”

Cody tries to smack Rex’s head, but Rex steps out of his reach, grabbing the last of the order. “Get to the point,” Cody spits out.

“The point is that he has been leaving later and later every single week.”

Cody’s mouth drops open slightly, his hand coming up to the back of his neck. “Really?”

“Really,” Wolffe chimes in as he shapes the dough he had been working on.

Cody smiles, heat creeping up his cheeks as he looks down at the floor.

“You might want to hurry up and make your move though lover-boy,” Rex teases as he walks over to Cody. He pushes the man’s order into Cody’s chest, prompting a small glare from his older brother. “Or someone else will beat you to it.”

With that, he turns and walks away, leaving Cody with a stunned look on his face.

He shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts and looks up at the clock on the wall. “Four minutes until he gets here,” he mumbles, pushing through the doors that lead to the rest of the bakery.

He sets the order down on the counter, Rex’s words echoing in his mind.

Taking a deep breath, he looks over at Bly working the register. “Hey Bly?”

“Yeah?” he says without looking up.

Cody looks up at the clock again. Two minutes. “Can I borrow a pen?”

Bly gives him a confused look, grabbing a pen from the cup by the register. “Sure.”

Cody takes it, rushing back over to the order and opens the lid to the box of cinnamon rolls, scribbling something on the inside. Then, carefully shutting the lid, he puts the loaf of bread that always accompanies the order on top.

He takes a deep breath, rubbing his hands over his face before looking back up at the clock.

One minute.

Cody tried to find something to do, something that would calm his nerves while still looking casual. But no matter what he turned to, everything felt like it would not be good enough.

Then, he heard the front bell ring. He turned toward the sound, all of his nervousness melting away at the sight of the auburn hair that was glowing in the mid-morning sunlight.

“Ah, Cody!” the man said as he walked up to the counter. “How are you this morning?”

“Mister Kenobi,” he smiled. “I’ve been busy,” he said with a chuckle. “We’ve been hired to make the bread and cakes for the senate charity event on Sunday, so I got here about two hours before I normally do to prep for all of the baking we have to get done over the next two days.”

Kenobi nods his head, his hand coming up to stroke his beard. “Yes, I can see how that would make you very busy indeed.” He shakes his head, giving Cody a playful smile. “Cody, how many times must I insist that you just call me Obi-Wan?”

Cody smiles, lifting the order in his hands and holding it out to Obi-Wan as he gives him an affectionate gaze. “Until you see me when I’m not covered in flour.” His smile widens as he feels the heat creeping up his face once again.

Obi-Wan reaches out and grabs the box of cinnamon rolls, his face turning red. “I umm—” he clears his throat. “I suppose I would have to see you outside of work then.”

Their hands lightly brush as Cody gently sets the box in Obi-Wan’s hands. “Indeed.”

They both stand there, gazing at each other in fond silence until a buzzer goes off in the kitchen. Cody pulls back, taking his eyes off of Obi-Wan to glance at the clock. He gives an apologetic smile.

“I hate to cut this short, but I do have to get back to work if we are going to fill all of those orders in time.”

Obi-Wan steps back, returning Cody’s smile. “Of course,” he says with a slight bow of his head. “It is always a pleasure Cody.”

Cody nods. “Likewise.”

“Until next time then,” Obi-Wan says with a smile.

Cody leans on the counter. “We’ll have your cinnamon rolls hot and fresh for you as always.”

With that, Obi-Wan gives a final smile and turns toward the door.

“I do hope to see you again soon—” Cody calls from behind him as he reaches the door. He turns and looks at Cody, seeing his face smiling mischievously back at him. “—Mister Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan blushes, his smile widening before he nods and exits the sweet-smelling bakery.

Cody sighs, waiting a moment before pushing himself off of the counter.

He turns, heading back toward the kitchen when he sees Bly smirking at him, his head in his hand as he leans on the counter.

“You two are cute.”

“Shut-up Bly,” Cody says while rolling his eyes. He pushes the door to the kitchen, grabbing his apron off of its hook and tying it around his back, smiling to himself.

*******************************************************************************************

“Ah, Professor Kenobi! You’re here early.”

“Yes, Professor Plo. I’m afraid one of my stops was unfortunately cut a bit short this morning.”

They begin walking toward the chairs that had been set out for their weekly meeting. “Oh?”

Obi-Wan smiles. “Oh, it’s nothing serious. Just my usual conversation with Cody at the bakery was cut short due to a busy schedule this week.”

Plo nods. “I see.”

“Obi-Wan!” Anakin walks up to the pair, a smile on his face. “Would you like me to take those over to the food table for you?”

Obi-Wan smiles and rolls his eyes. “Yes, Anakin. You may have yours now.”

“Yes!” Anakin hurriedly takes the box and rushes over to grab a paper plate.

Plo motions over to one of the chairs in the room. “I’m afraid Professor Windu will be late this morning,” he says as they continue over to the circle of chairs. “He’s still in a meeting with the dean about—”

“Uhh, Professor?” Anakin calls from the table. “Who’s Cody?”

Obi-Wan whips around. “What?”

“Cody? It looks like he left you a note.”

Obi-Wan slowly walks over to the table and angles the lid of the cinnamon roll box so that he can read what is written inside. His face turns red as his eyes drift over the frosting coated words.

“Obi-Wan,

555-212-2224. Call me?

-Cody”

Obi-Wan smiles, his heart fluttering in his chest.

“Are you gonna call him Professor? Are you guys dating? Is he your boyfriend?” Anakin tugs on Obi-Wan’s arm as a sea of questions fall from his lips.

“Alright young one,” Plo cuts in as he gently peels Anakin off of Obi-Wan’s arm. “We have work to do.”

“But Professor—”

“Do as he says Anakin. I’ll be over in a moment.”

Anakin grumbles as he walks away with Plo toward the circle of chairs.

Obi-Wan reaches up and smiles into the palm of his hand before reaching into his pocket to grab his phone. He takes a picture of the note and smiles.

Cody would probably be busy until the bakery closes at five.

He lets out a fond sigh, slipping his phone back into his pocket. He smiled, thinking about how much sweeter dialing those numbers would be that the frosting that they had been covered in. He really could not wait for the end of the day.

#codywan #look at these two cuties #obi wan kenobi #commander cody #modern au #cinnamon roll sweetness #my writing

101 notes · View notes

moriarty-bibliotheca · 3 years

Text

—✧ ❝𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬❞ ✉

— 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 ✉

𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏 𝒔𝒂𝒚𝒔: hello sorry for my english😌 Can you ask for the script of Reader x Albert James Moriarty?. The reader is friends with the Moriarty brothers and helps them change the world, and at one point feels stronger feelings for Albert. Which scares her because she's not a noble so she feels she shouldn't love a noble so she starts to distance herself from his lover and if she talks to him it's very brief. which Albert notices and tries to talk to her in private. can there be a happy ending. Sorry🙏

❝ 𝐚𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 ❞

— 𝗳𝗲𝗺𝗮𝗹𝗲! 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

— 𝗻𝗼 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀

— 𝗺𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝘀𝗽𝗼𝗶𝗹𝗲𝗿𝘀!

— 𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗺𝗺𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹 𝗲𝗿𝗿𝗼𝗿𝘀 𝗮𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗱!

☎ 𝒃𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒚'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔: i love albert so much! 😭🥺 this is the first request i’ve received in this blog, thank you so much! hope you like it! don’t apologize, love. thank you so much! now go ahead and check out the story!

Sounds of the pen scribbling on your journal was the only thing audible at this time of the day, you were isolating yourself in the room as it seems like your mind has been occupied with a number of thoughts lately. Thoughts that you wish you never had, if you could just have the power to make this disappear in a snap, you would immediately make it go away.

You continued writing down your inner thoughts into your journal, one that he bought for you. The older Moriarty had been nothing but nice to you, ever since the day you met him, never had he or his brothers once mistreated you because you were a commoner, someone lower in rank than he is, this caused you to have a stable friendship with the three of them.

Now, of course, you knew about their wish; their wish to change the world, this society. It was ridiculous that your status by birth dictates how you should live. If you are a noble, you get the greater things in life; you get treated with respect, have a better education, work in high-paying jobs and earn more money, and even live a very luxurious life. The rich gets richer and the poor gets poorer, doesn’t that sound terrible?

A knock came through the door, interrupting your train of thoughts and your writing, you looked towards the direction of the door and placed the pen back on its penholder. “Y/N,” the youngest Moriarty’s voice came through the wooden door, “it’s lunch.” It seems you had been so occupied with your writing and your thought process that you didn’t notice the time of the day, “I’ll be right there.” You looked at the mirror and fixed yourself, you let out a deep breath and left your room. Louis was still standing there as he gave you a smile and escorted you to the dining hall.

As you arrived, you sat on your designated seat, beside him. Out of all places that you could sit on, why did you decide to sit beside him? You’ve been distancing yourself from the older Moriarty lately, all those thoughts that kept you occupied were thoughts of him; his smile, his charms, the way he treats you, those are all the things you kept thinking of, and maybe even a few thoughts of you and him in a relationship.

How scandalous, it would be impossible for a lower class woman to be in a relationship with an upper class man, especially someone working in the military like Albert. “Y/N?” Your train of thought was interrupted once more when the second Moriarty called your name, you snapped out of your trance and looked at him, he seemed to be halfway done with his food along with his two brothers, “are you alright? You haven’t touched your food,” you hadn’t noticed that your food was already served for almost 15 minutes ago.

You gave William a smile and said that you were fine, you picked up your spoon and your smile immediately dropped, you used your spoon to grab a portion of (favorite food) and ate it, you continued eating until your plate was empty. Minutes later, everyone was finished with their meals and you were ready to leave.

“Stay, it has been a while since we all chatted together,” said the older Moriarty as he gently grabbed your wrist before you could walk away, your heart started beating fast; his smooth hands was holding your wrist, his gaze and attention were all on you, and that charming smile of his seems to be hypnotizing you even more.

How you wished you had the courage to stay and chat with your friends without looking like a tomato, but you were trying to fix this unrequited feelings of love and the only way you can think of is to be distant. “I wish I could,” you said as you looked away, “but I have things to do right now, sorry.” You pulled away from his touch and ran out of the dining room, you rushed your way to your chambers and immediately closed the door, you heaved out a sigh of relief before collapsing yourself on the floor.

After you left the dining hall, William looked at his older brother with worry. “Did something happen between you two?” asked the younger Moriarty, the older one shook his head as he grabbed his glass of wine, “not that I know of, she’s been ignoring me a lot lately.” The older Moriarty stared at the liquor as he swirled his wine glass, “I’ll speak to her later,” said Albert as he took a sip of his wine.

Hours later and it’s already half past 19:00 (7 PM), you left the room with the intention of grabbing a snack, it seems the residence was quiet today, maybe they went out without informing you. You walked your way to the kitchen and looked around and even checked in the ice box for any possible snacks that you could nibble on while staying in your room, you found your favorite pastries and grabbed a plate to place a few amount that will satisfy you.

“Ah, Y/N, perfect timing,” you froze from your spot and tried to hide the plate of pastries that you grabbed, for heaven’s sake, it looked like you were stealing. You turned around and to your surprise, it was the oldest Moriarty brother standing a few feet away from you with both of his hands behind him. “Albert,” you spoke as you tried to hide the plate, but that was useless for he already knew what you were doing minutes before he even spoke up, “is there something you need?”

“I need to talk to you,” said Albert as he walked towards you, you couldn’t walk any further without bumping your back onto the wall, so you stood still and waited for him to speak. “What is it?” you asked as you tried to maintain eye contact without turning as red as a tomato.

“I have just noticed that you were distancing yourself from me, did I do something to upset you?” You weren’t expecting him to ask you directly and notice you were ignoring him, but then again, this is a Moriarty brother we’re talking about. “You noticed?” you mumbled softly, but he heard it clearly and gave you a nod, you apologized and told him you weren’t feeling well for the past few weeks, you sputtered out an amount of excuses to cover up the fact that the sole reason you were ignoring him was because you fell in love with him.

While you were sputtering out excuses, Albert retracted his hand from behind and placed his index finger in front of your lips as a way of keeping your mouth shut, you immediately stopped talking as he handed you a (chosen flower). You were surprised as you looked at the flower and back to him, he gave you a smile and waited for you to accept the flower from him. “What’s this for?” you asked as you grabbed the flower from him, you tried to calm your quick heartbeat and placed a hand over your chest before looking back at him.

“What do you think?” said Albert, he wasn’t going to give the answer so easily, you looked back at the flower and noticed that there was a folded paper attached to the stem, you grabbed the small paper and unfolded it to see the message written inside.

“I love you,” was written neatly in a beautiful penmanship, your cheeks turned red and you felt like you were in a dream, you looked back at Albert and asked, “are you okay with me being a commoner?” He looked surprised when you asked him that question, he chuckled and shook his head as he grabbed your hand and kissed it while looking at you, “your status doesn’t matter to me, my dear.”

☎ 𝒃𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒚'𝒔 𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆: well, here you go! this feels a little too short or rushed, i’m sorry about that! story requests are still closed, slots are full! thank youuuu so much! visit the bibliotheca again, darling! we’re always open for a good read! stay safe, love!

#yuukoku no moriarty #yuukoku no moriarty x reader #moriarty anime #moriarty #moriarty the patriot #albert james moriarty #moriarty x reader #moriarty the patriot x reader #mtp x reader #ynm x reader #female reader #x reader #albert james moriarty x reader #憂国のモリアーティ #anime x reader #moriarty bibliotheca

137 notes · View notes

jungstruly · 4 years

Text

Stupid Cupid || 00

You’ve ought to believe that you have a curse when it comes to love after a handful of disastrous dates, but when a certain baseball captain Lucas Wong finally looked your way, you were done with having that curse. The little love God can fuck himself anyways.

Or where in,

Best friend Haechan’s playing cupid and doing cupid’s dirty work behind your back to drive away your potential lovers all because of a pinky promise the both of you shared during high school. It’s only a matter of time until he blows his cover off. Until then, the stupid little cupid’s crazy plan to stop you from falling in love will be his top priority.

!! UPDATES EVERY TUESDAY AND SATURDAY !!

Genre || Rom-com, fuff, crack, slice of life, angst in the future, Uni!AU, Baseball!AU, Band!AU

Pairings || Business student slash bassist!Donghyuck x Architecture student!Reader x Engineering student slash baseball captain!Lucas (A side of Nursing student! Jeno, Business student!Renjun and Engineering student!Hendery)

Word Count || 3.2k

Taglist || @lelenoir, @nzeeten, @emvrd, @badwithten, @4-sun, @bl--ankhaeji, @soleilhyuck-main, @hyuckiesoftie, @hoshitaro, @in-my-neofeelings, @chenleschurros, @deuxvous, @renjunluvr119, @neostains, @lovelyvitamin, @melxmay, @cherry-jaemin, @eyypeach, @shotoshortcake, @apollohyucks, @flirtyhyuck, @moonmystv can’t tag @dlndreamie & @mimika-28 for some odd reason :<

@scissorhands1617 & @neowrld thank you so much for being the best beta reader I could ask for!

Send an ask or leave a comment if you want to be added in the taglist!

PROLOGUE

“Can you not stare at me while I study my physiology notes?” Jeno grumbled from his seat across yours. He pushed his glasses back up his nose bridge which were starting to slide off from reading for too long. Eyes not leaving his study material, he clicked his pen before scribbling something on his paper.

“You’re starting to creep me out Y.N”

You slumped on the familiar café seat as you watched your friend study his heart out, too preoccupied to notice that it’s a little half past lunch time already. The small yet famous French café located literally beside the university grounds was still packed with students. Even if it’s already the early hours of the afternoon, the whole place was still buzzing with students enjoying their favorite home cooked meal with their friends as they take a break from their busy uni life.

You leaned your head on the wide glass window beside you.

“I can still feel you.” He mumbled and you can’t help but let out an over dramatic sigh for the nth time since the both of you sat there. Your fingers played with the metal straw of your nearly empty iced tea. Jeno still felt your eyes boring through his head.

“That’s it,” He threw his notes on the table with a groan before finally meeting your eyes. “What do you want this time?”

Crossing your arms, you let out another loud sigh. A pout is evident on your lips as the nursing student leaned back to his seat and waited for you to spill your ‘tea’. “Jeno, we’ve been best friends since high school and I know that you won’t lie to me, ever.”

He hummed in response, urging you to continue whilst he dusts his white nursing uniform.

“I need you to be completely honest with me.” You grabbed his hands.

Your actions made Jeno’s eyebrows rise, peering from his prescribed glasses to both of your hands clasped together. “Like super duper, one hundred and one percent honest to me. Okay?”

“You’re scaring me Y.N.”

You rolled your eyes at him. Your laughter blended with the busy café noise as you looked him dead in the eye. Jeno’s Adam's apple bobbed up and down, trying to pull his hands away from your grasp.

“Do you think I’m attractive?” You tried to give him your best smile, your eyes blinking rapidly as you try to act cute.

With a chuckle, your best friend nodded in agreement. He peeled his hands away from you and sipped his turning cold latte. Jeno being the sweetheart that he is, knew exactly what to say. “Of course you are! You’ve always been beautiful inside and out.”

“Really?”

Your eyes lit up in an instant. “With that being said, if you were given a chance to date me, will you date me?”

Jeno choked on the coffee that he was drinking. He coughed, reaching for a clean tissue on the table to wipe the corners of his lips.

“T-the hell?”

You were about to open your mouth when you felt a warm hand on your shoulder. The smell of cheese and basil leaves filled your senses .Your stomach grumbled and it only made you realize how hungry you were all this time.

“Y.N dear, your soup will be served in a while. Jeno, here’s your croque monsieur.”

Your coughing friend held out a thumb’s up as a thank you. His eyes fixated on the scrumptious meal in front of him despite almost choking to death. You on the other hand flashed the old woman a grin before she went back to the kitchen.

“Thank you Mama Lee. Hyuck and Injun will be here in a while.”

Your attention went back to Jeno, handing him more tissue as he coughed on his fist. A look of disbelief was evident on his face as he eyed your sheepish figure.

The both of you looked up when a familiar brown leather messenger bag was roughly thrown beside Jeno. “That strategic management prof will be the death of me.”

The petite boy loosened his maroon necktie before he plopped down beside him with a huff. His sleeves were already rolled up as he put both arms behind his neck, leaning back to catch his breath. Renjun was about to run his mouth to talk how much of an asshole their substitute professor was when he noticed how red Jeno was.

He immediately sat straight out of excitement. “What did I miss?”

You shrugged jokingly, sipping your iced tea empty. Renjun caught a whiff of the food beside him, giving it a side eye to see if the owner’s paying attention before he went into stealth mode. Jeno immediately swatted Renjun’s hand away from his hot food but it was all too late when the culprit popped a huge crumb of cheesy goodness on his mouth with a grin.

“Y.N here asked me if she’s attractive.” Jeno said before taking a bite after his coughs subsided, giving the boy beside him a glare.

“We all know the answer to that.” Renjun snorted beside him as he tried to eat some of Jeno’s bread crumbs despite his annoyed look.

“A huge fat No,”

You giggled, throwing him a punch across the table. “How mean, you little shit.”

“And,” Jeno swallowed down the huge bite of croque monsieur before speaking. All eyes were back on him before he shrieked in terror.

He pushed his glasses up before pointing his finger at you. “She asked me if I would date her!”

Renjun’s hand went flying to his mouth. The both of them started to freak out as if you told them that you eat smelly socks for breakfast. You can’t help but to roll your eyes. Your lips curving upward, nevertheless. You love your best friends to bits and pieces but sometimes, you question your taste in people.

“Remind me again why I have two morons as my friend.” You threw Jeno's used tissue, making them laugh in amusement. Your eyes caught a glimpse of the time from the clock above them as you leaned back to your seat-- only to sit right up back again.

“Make that three. Where’s Hyuck?”

“Went to Mama Lee’s kitchen the moment he got here.” Renjun answered nonchalantly, standing up to pour himself a glass of water from the nearby counter. “That brat has always been the teacher’s favorite. It’s like his secret talent. Profs would even let him sleep in their class just because. It’s unfair.”

The news didn’t shock you and Jeno at all. Donghyuck may fool around but man, that kid is naturally good with numbers. It was old news already since he had always been a dean’s lister up until now in your third year in college. Jeno was about to take another bite when he saw your eyes fixated on it, making him offer you his food and urging you to open your mouth. You happily obliged of course.

You were munching with a smile when you heard a very familiar voice from the counter. The three of you mentally face palmed yourselves as the little devil who you were talking about earlier appeared. An apron was tied snuggly to his small waist along with his neatly folded black suit jacket draped on his forearm as he pretended to be a waiter.

You wanted the earth to gobble you up when Donghyuck shouted your order up front, startling a lot of customers. “One onion soup for Ms. Y.N.”

He carefully set your onion soup down in front of you before setting his and Renjun’s orders down. You immediately scooped a mouthful and shoved it in your mouth. Only to realize a minute after, how hot it was.

“Of course it’s hot dumbass.” Donghyuck grabbed Renjun’s glass of water as the boy returned to his seat which earned an annoyed ‘hey’ from him. Eyes not leaving your panicked state, he sat down beside you. You emptied Renjun’s glass in no time.

“Ouch,” You stick your tongue out, in an attempt to cool it off. “Too hot,”

The boy beside you rolled his eyes with a scoff. Donghyuck started to slice the roasted chicken on his plate. “No shit Sherlock. I just popped that out from the oven. I know how much you love it when cheese turns crusty and brown.”

You grin from ear to ear as you shove a spoonful of it back to your mouth. This time, cooling it off. Renjun on the other hand snorted across from the both of you.

“Yeah, to the point of you putting half of my cheese in hers.” Jeno peered beside him before bursting into laughter. The boy beside him grunted in disbelief as he pushed his soup across the table just for everyone to see. “Look how sad it looks. Just look at this poor little thing!”

You giggled with a shrug, a bashful look already painted on your face. “Well, what can I say. I’m Hyuck’s and Mama Lee’s favorite customer after all.”

“Don’t be too full of yourself babe.” Donghyuck made sure to pinch your cheek which only earned a groan from you. You rubbed on your cheek with knitted brows. A soft smile played on your lips as you watched Donghyuck eat happily with his cute little apron tied on his waist, completely forgetting that it was still on him.

Feeling your eyes on him, he quickly sliced a huge chunk of meat. He blew some air on it in an attempt to cool the piping hot chicken before finally shoving it to your mouth.

“Aigoo, my baby,” Donghyuck laughed when he felt a punch on his shoulder. Flavors bursted on your tongue as you happily chewed. The boy beside you smiled in content, munching on his chicken again.

“Anything I missed while I was in the kitchen?”

Jeno crossed his arms as he leaned back to his seat, watching everyone eat their heart out. “Nothing much, I was studying the whole time but Y.N here almost killed me.”

“You’re being dramatic. I could kill you if I wanted to.”

Renjun swallowed his food, clapping his hands like a seal as he remembered something.

“Y.N here has a bunch of questions.” Renjun’s eyes glinted with excitement and mischief as Jeno’s eyes met his with the exact glow. “I think you should answer them Hyuck.”

Donghyuck shrugged, reaching over to scoop from your soup to get a taste of his mom’s star dish. Your hands carefully pushed the bowl near him. “Shoot,”

You wiped your lips with a tissue before turning your body to him. He was too preoccupied with the hearty meal that he didn’t even bother to look at you.

“Am I attractive to you? Will you take me out on a date if you were given a chance, Hyuckie?”

His eyes turned like saucers as he choked on his soup, whipping his head to you just to check if you were messing with him. Your eyes blinked back at him with concern. The two boys on the other hand were laughing their asses off as they watched their friend’s struggle. Donghyuck glared at the both of them, clearly unamused. His hand started to cover his mouth to muffle his coughs.

“So,” You bite your lip. Your hand hitting his back to help him. “Won’t you?”

His eyes widened more. The poor boy violently coughed. Renjun offered him a new cup of water after laughing so hard with Jeno. Donghyuck downed the whole glass in one go, wiping his lips with the back of his hand before turning to you.

“You’re kidding.” He tried to laugh but when you shook your head with a genuine smile, he stopped. “You’re serious?”

“I’m serious.” You confirmed as you continued to eat. Donghyuck didn’t even bother to finish his meal. In fact, he felt like he was too full. He didn’t know if it was because of the soup or the butterflies whirling in his stomach.

“And why do you ask?”

Blood rose up to your cheek, nibbling on some croutons to make you look busy. “Just because,”

Jeno snapped his finger. You mentally thanked him as the attention turned to him. “I think I know why. Let me guess, is this because of that date you had with that Chenle dude during first year?”

Memories came back flooding back to you. The date you had with that wealthy Chinese business Tycoon heir was nothing but a disaster. Snippets of how he got dragged by a horse and rushed to the hospital only to find out that the poor boy broke his femur wasn’t really the best memory to have for your first date.

“No, shut up.”

Jeno smirked from his seat as he pushed his glasses back up. Not because he was having fun teasing the hell out of you, but because Donghyuck started to sweat beside you. He mouthed Jeno a ‘fuck you’, showing him his fist in hopes of scaring him. Donghyuck remembered that day all too well as if he was there. Well, he was indeed there along with Renjun, hiding in a bush nearby as you and Chenle got a little too close for his liking.

Suddenly, Renjun bursted out laughing across from you, the metal straw still in his mouth as he sipped Jeno’s half empty coffee. He hitted Jeno’s arm out of happiness. “Second year, that date with Na Jaemin was just fucking gold.”

Renjun wheezed, eyes scrunching as he laughed. “That dumbass gave Y.N flowers and gave her an allergic reaction. Holy shit, her face was just too hideous and she even almost pooped in he-“

“Finish that sentence. See what happens.”

You spat with brows furrowed together, only to join Renjun and Jeno’s laughter seconds later. It was embarrassing of course but it was way too funny. The second date was really a night to remember. You had to call Hyuck to pick you up halfway through your date because your face went, uh--- unrecognizable in front of your date. That night turned into a whole disaster to the point of praying everyday not to bump with Jamin inside the campus.

“Too funny,” Donghyuck tried to laugh along, making sure to give Renjun who was suggestively wiggling his eyebrows a hard glare. He fiddled with the hem of his apron.

Jeno was losing his shit as he reminisced how he helped the boy beside you buy some laxative the night before your date. You wiped your tears of happiness, totally oblivious by your three bestfriend’s mini staredown.

“I can really tell that cupid is definitely enjoying himself toying with my love life.” You joked, elbowing Donghyuck’s arm to urge him to laugh. “That little rascal.”

Jeno snickered in front of you. His eyes lingered on Haechan. “Oh, I bet cupid is having the time of his lif-“

As if on cue, Jeno yelped in pain. Donghyuck blinked back at him innocently as he tried to hide the fact that he stepped on his toe. He let out a breath of relief once he saw you laughing.

He can’t afford to let his cover be blown just because his two dickhead friends decided to bring up his crazy and obviously love sick plans for fun. Donghyuck ruining every single date that you have was a secret that he’ll bring to his grave. He can’t afford for you to know that he was the reason for every unleashed disaster in your dates.

As he quietly went back to his meal, he couldn’t help but to breathe a sigh of relief as you started to talk excitedly about your architecture project in class. The previous conversation was already forgotten but the knowing look on Jeno and Renjun was still there.

Oh, if only you knew that cupid was a lot closer than you think.

Literally an arm’s length away, munching on his roasted chicken with a small smile.

That small smile didn’t even last that long when he felt your hands gripped his forearm tightly. Your squeals of excitement filled his ears as you began to shake his shoulder violently. He looked at Jeno and Renjun in hopes to know what was happening. The three boys shared a surprise look.

“Oh God.” Your eyes didn’t leave the large window still beside you, leaning on Donghyuck as you repeatedly hit his forearm. “That’s the guy! That’s the frikin guy, oh my god!”

Donghyuck pretended that he wasn’t interested in your shenanigans but he was all ears. “What guy? Use your words Y.-”

“The guy,” Hands waving excitedly in front of you, you gave your best friends a look before your attention went back to the tall mysterious guy in front of a building across the cafe you were in.

“The guy I kept on talking about. Literally tall, lean and handsome? Remember?”

Jeno squinted as he tried to spot the guy that you were talking about. Different groups of students spread here and there which made it harder for him to find the guy. “Nah.”

“Doesn’t ring a bell.” Renjun shrugged, pushing Jeno to the side to look for ‘this guy’. Nose almost touching the window glass, he chuckled. “You have one good eyesight Y.N. I can’t clearly see people all the way from there.”

Your cheeks started to hurt from smiling. The tall guy’s head tilted back in laughter as he and his friends played around. “He’s the one I told you about? My happy crush?”

“Your happy crush,” the two boys in front of you repeated your words. It took them a couple of seconds before both of their heads whipped their heads to you-- to Haechan to be precise. “Your happy crush!”

You flinched at their sudden outburst. Not wanting any attention to the four of you, you shushed them. Donghyuck ignored their surprised look as he peered on the window beside you. His eyes spotting the familiar boy that you were gushing about. Oh dear, he knew your ‘happy crush’ very well. In fact, Donghyuck didn’t like him at all for some personal reasons. Along with the fact that he got you wrapped around his finger, of course. There’s no way in hell that he’ll tell you his name let alone meet each other.

His eyes widened the moment he saw the tall guy with his friend started walking towards the window. In just a few feet more, you’ll get the perfect view of your ‘happy crush’s’ face in no time. Donghyuck did the unthinkable before you even returned your attention back to the window. He collapsed beside you, putting his whole weight on your body as he screwed his eyes shut.

You snorted from his side, clearly unamused. Your shoulder tried to push his body away from you. “Hyuckie! You’re heavy, now quit playing around.”

You tried to push his body away from you, when you eventually stopped trying. You decided to let the back of his head rest on your chest as you realize that the boy may or may not want to cuddle, only for your blood to run out of your face the moment Donghyuck’s body fell limp in your arms.

“Hyuckie? Hyuckie?” Your hand lightly tapped his soft, honey-skinned cheeks. The boy in your arms didn't move an inch.

“Guys,” Panic coursed through your veins, as your breath hitched.

Jeno and Renjun were stunned while looking at each other, finally piecing out that this could be Hyuck's heat stroke tendency.

“I think we need to call the ambulance.”

Next >

135 notes · View notes

cyraclove · 4 years

Text

Higher Pursuits

BOTW Grad School AU

“...so, if you do decide that you’ll be writing a thesis in lieu of the comprehensive examination, I’ll be the one you’ll need to speak with.”

Zelda scribbled furiously in her notebook as Dr. Kaneli continued to speak, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose every few minutes like clockwork. He’d come to Dr. Teba’s diagnostics lecture that morning to speak about research opportunities, accompanied by several of his current research assistants.

“No need to decide right this moment, of course,” he said, “but we will be needing your name and thesis topic by the end of your first year if you do select that track.”

Thesis by end year one, she scrawled onto the paper.

God, a thesis. She’d dreamt of this moment.

Had Zelda ever wanted anything more than to write a thesis? What greater pleasure was there than to delve so completely into research that you know every facet of it like you know the letters of your own name? The plethora of potential opportunities was exhilarating, her mind running rampant at the very notion of selecting one.

A hand suddenly covered hers, causing her pen to scratch to a halt.

She glanced up to see Link staring at her, an eyebrow cocked in her direction.

“What?” She whispered, “I’m taking notes.”

‘Just listen,’ he signed, ‘You don’t have to write down every word he says.’

She felt a smile tug at her lips as she rolled her eyes. “We’ll see who’s coming to who with questions in a few weeks.”

Link grinned brightly, waving a hand at her in dismissal.

“My personal field is neurological disorders,” Kaneli explained, recapturing Zelda’s undivided attention, “and if you have any interest in my research, do let me know. I am always in need of hardworking graduate assistants. It’s not easy work, mind you, but we do have fun.”

The professor then paused to smile at a young man seated amongst the other second year students In the front row.

“I’m sure you can attest to that, Mr. Medoh,” he teased cheerily. A few of the others around him chuckled lightly.

From where she and Link were sitting in the lecture hall, it was impossible to see his face. Even when craning her neck a bit, Zelda could only glimpse locks of raven hair that dusted the man’s shoulders, several strands pleated into delicate braids while some was piled atop his head in a haphazard bun.

Medoh, she wrote hastily in the margins.

Link tapped the table to get her attention before furrowing his brow and asking, ‘Why?’.

She shrugged. “Might be good to have second year connections. And quit reading over my shoulder.”

Link’s face took on a sly expression as he eyed her curiously. With two fingers, he gestured a circle around his face before pointing to the man in the first row.

“Handsome?” Zelda scoffed, “How can I think that he’s handsome when I can’t even see him? You hush.”

He waggled his brows at her. ‘I’m not talking,’ he signed.

“You know what I mean,” she said. “You can make that joke all you want and it still won’t be funny.”

“Ah, does someone there in the back have a question?”

Zelda’s face prickled hot as nearly everyone in the room swiveled around to look at her. She froze, damning her immoveable tongue for not immediately coming to her rescue with a response. She barely heard Link sniggering beside her as she stared blankly at Dr. Kaneli, an expectant look on his face.

Her gaze was drawn downward to a pair of green eyes staring up from beneath thick, dark lashes.

The young man that Kaneli had called Mr. Medoh was now looking directly at her, incredulity marring his brow. His sharp, almost bird-like features gave him a stern appearance, the strong cut of his jaw curtained by wisps of hair. The striking emerald of his irises was offset by the deep, rich tone of his bronzed skin.

Oh. He was handsome.

Someone cleared their throat.

“Ms. Farore,” Dr. Teba prompted from his seat in the corner, “did you have a question or didn’t you?”

“Oh, no. Uh, sir. No, sir,” she stammered, “I didn’t...um, no. Sorry.”

Teba pursed his lips and hummed his disapproval, but said nothing more. He instead encouraged Kaneli to continue, apologizing for the interruption. Zelda’s pulse thundered in her ears as she caught a hint of a smirk on the dark-haired man’s face just before he turned back around.

She wanted to die.

And, maybe, smack Link.

The remainder of the lecture went quickly, though Zelda registered only a quarter of anything that was said. She still felt hot with humiliation, her embarrassment taking the uncomfortable form of sweat; she could think only of how badly she wished she had a stick of deodorant and a new blouse.

When Kaneli and Teba finally concluded and announced dismissal, Zelda slumped down into her chair and covered her face with her hands. She sat amidst the shuffling of papers and zipping of book bags, letting the rest of the class file out until she and Link were the only two left in the large hall.

When she finally peeked through her fingers at Link, she saw him looking just as remorseful as he could, signing ‘sorry’ on his chest.

Zelda sighed. “Oh, don’t look at me that way. I’ve already forgiven you, you know that.”

He beamed at her, and she suddenly remembered why it was impossible to ever be cross with him in any capacity. He stacked his fists then, twisting one atop the other as he raised his brows in question.

“Yeah, coffee sounds good. You’re buying.”

The Café Bar was bustling with students just being released from class, flocking in from outside to escape the chilly October air and scrambling for a place in line. Others stood idly by and scouted for empty tables, often to no avail. Though there were several places to go for coffee on campus, the little, locally-owned coffee shop that sat just near the university was by far the most popular.

The gentle hiss of milk being steamed and the pleasant gurgle of fresh coffee brewing could just be heard above the sound of light jazz mingling with idle chatter. Cups and saucers clinked as they were cleared from tables. Zelda inhaled deeply, the comforting scent of espresso a welcome respite.

“I have a vanilla latte with extra whip on the bar!”

She nudged Link with her elbow to get his attention. They had managed to procure their favorite spot; a small circular table over by the large bay window that sidled right up to the window seat. He looked up from his phone.

“That’s you,” she said. He nodded and stood with a smile, lightly touching her shoulder and giving it an affectionate squeeze as he slipped behind her. Zelda smiled to herself before returning to the article that she’d been perusing, a clinical research study on the affects of naturalistic treatment protocols on aphasic patients. She’d not even read five words when she heard her name being softly called from across the café.

“Zelda, over here.”

A petite, red-headed young woman came striding towards her, her arms piled with books. Zelda hopped up from her chair to lighten her load, carefully taking a few of the books off of the top.

“Oh, Mipha, let me help you. Where’s your--wait, here, set them on the table.”

She thanked her profusely as she plunked the remaining books on the tiny table, making it wobble sadly on its narrow legs. She slid onto the window seat, shrugging her blue sweater from her shoulders. Her cheeks were a pretty, wind-bitten pink as she smiled warmly, releasing a sigh of relief.

“I thought you’d already gone home,” Zelda said, “And what are all of these for?”

“Oh, these are my textbooks for this semester. I’ve just been to the bookstore to pick them up,” she explained. She screwed up her face. “They didn’t have the one I need for my biochem class, though. I preordered that one, too.”

“You need all of these?” Zelda asked, brows raised in awe as she mentally tallied the books.

Mipha nodded resignedly. “Yes, all of them. That’s what I get for deciding to get my master’s in marine biology, I suppose. I’m on my way to the apartment, but I thought I’d stop and grab a latte or so—” she paused, copper eyes shifting their attention from Zelda’s face to just behind her. “Oh, Link, hello.”

Link nodded cheerfully at Mipha with a mug in one hand and a plate holding the largest muffin that Zelda had ever seen in the other. She kicked out his chair for him with her foot and he sat, gingerly placing his coffee on the table. He signed ‘thank you’ with his free hand, the other still absentmindedly clutching the plate as his eyes swept the café. Mipha and Zelda gave one another a quick, knowing look.

“Sidon’s still at the rec with Bazz,” Mipha mentioned, a smile in her voice, “He told me to tell you ‘hi’, though.”

Zelda watched Link’s jaw visibly clench as he sucked in a breath through his nose.

‘He did?’

Mipha nodded.

Link bit the inside of his cheek, and then quickly shrugged and focused his attention on making a dent in the mountain of whipped cream on his coffee.

‘That’s cool,’ he told her, ‘Tell him hey, I guess.’

The redhead turned to Zelda for a translation; she was with the two of them so frequently now that she’d been able to pick up quite a bit of ASL, but still needed occasional help. Zelda found that Link was particularly difficult to understand when the subject of conversation was Sidon, simply because his hands moved twice their normal speed.

“He said to tell Sidon that he’s the most handsome man he’s ever seen and that he’d love to go on a date sometime,” Zelda answered casually, unlocking her phone to open up her article again.

Link nearly choked on a piece of muffin.

“I have an americano with cream on the bar!”

“Be right back,” Zelda chimed as she got up to get her drink, looking back briefly to see Link signing ‘wrong’ on his chin repeatedly. She chuckled inwardly and turned back around, only to collide with an oddly familiar looking green cardigan.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said, backing up, “That’s my fault. I wasn’t even paying attention.”

“Evidently not.”

Zelda’s eyes flicked up at the foreign voice, her heart leaping into her throat as she realized with whom she was speaking.

Oh, shit.

Handsome braids guy.

“Uh, hi. Again,” she muttered, hopelessly lost for anything else to say.

He gave her a queer look. “Again?”

“Um. I mean, yeah. You were just in Dr. Teba’s lecture? You came with Dr. Kaneli. For the, uh, research. Thing.”

The corner of the young man’s mouth quirked up ever so slightly as he tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. “Right. You didn’t have a question.”

Zelda felt her cheeks burn at the very mention of the incident, her chest tightening at the memory. The man raised a brow at her, an irritatingly amused expression on his face. She felt her eye twitch.

“Yes, well. If you’ll excuse me. Sorry, ag--”

A barista interrupted.

“Americano with cream to-go!”

Green cardigan stepped up to the bar to accept the coffee, thanking the woman who’d handed it off with an actual smile. Zelda watched him, dumbfounded, as he hoisted his messenger bag up onto his shoulder and glanced in her direction for a fraction of a second before heading for the door.

“Wait!”

The words had flown out of her mouth before she’d even had time to register them. Perfectly annoyed, he stopped to turn and face her, his eyes on her in silent query.

“About Dr. Kaneli’s research lab,” she began, “are there still spots open for new assistants right now?”

His demeanor changed at the question and he adopted a defensive, almost territorial stance. He studied her closely, eyeing her with an uncomfortable thoroughness; as though he were sizing up a rival.

“Yes,” he drawled, “Why?”

“I’d like to apply,” she responded, maybe too quickly.

He sucked his teeth. “Interesting. Well, come by the office at the clinic if you want an application. They’re due in a week.”

Zelda grinned, nodding excitedly. “Oh, that’s excellent. I’ll definitely be by, then. Thank you, um...” she paused, chewing her lip, “Sorry. What did you say your name was?”

“I didn’t.”

Making for the door once again, he left Zelda with her mouth partly open, staring after him in quiet disbeleif. His fingers brushing the handle, he hesitated, looking back over his shoulder.

“It’s Revali,” he said, and was gone.

Zelda stood in place for a while until he was completely out of sight, her mind fumbling with the entire interaction. Her stomach had twisted itself into a squirmy knot, a feeling with which she was unfamiliar. She felt like she’d somehow been both insulted and praised at the same time.

Revali, she thought to herself.

What a dick.

I hope you enjoyed this completely self-indulgent drabble of a Grad School AU that I’m considering. The more I think about this ship the more I like it. Thanks for reading! @botwrareships

54 notes · View notes

suckmysupernatural · 4 years

Text

I Got You - Chapter 3

Word Count: ~1700

Pairing: Professor!Dean x Reader

Warnings: implied smut, language

Summary: Y/N is used to dealing with her drunk boyfriend, Brandon. That is, until returning to college after a five year sabbatical. Y/N decides to take a fun history class and she ends up meeting Dean, or rather Professor Dean.

A/N: Chapter 3 Babes! Chapter 4 is going to be released in a few HOURS! Keep an eye out or turn on notifications :)

Series Masterlist

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

Three Weeks Later

Yesterday you had taken the final for your Mythologies and Monsters class, getting 94%. It turns out you can study quite well when avoiding the thoughts of your professor. You and Dean hadn’t spoken since that day he pulled you aside after class, but it was always on your mind.

The semester was finally over and you happily welcomed the break. It had been tough getting back into the swing of college, but you managed to get a GPA of 3.7 for the semester. You were proud of yourself. Five years ago, you never would have thought you’d be back and getting your degree. You had done what everyone thought was impossible.

Sitting in your apartment, you were deep into a romance novel. You loved to read growing up, the books you read as a kid inspiring you to become a Creative Writing major. Books had always been there. Over the past five years, not being able to go to school or work, you had found solace in each page.

You were just getting to the scene in every classic romance novel, where the couple decides to be happy together. Captivated, you almost missed the knock on your front door. Almost. Putting a bookmark in, you set the book aside and walked to the entryway.

Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest as you approached the front door. You had a feeling you knew who it was, glancing through the peephole to confirm your suspicion.

Seeing Dean standing outside your door, it felt like you were in a romance novel yourself. You had to remind yourself that you weren’t. You were with Brandon. Dean was a… well, you weren’t sure what he was to you just yet. Taking a deep breath, you opened the door.

“I would say I’m surprised, but…” you step back, motioning for him to come inside.

“So, boyfriend still around?” Dean asks, obviously hoping for a specific answer. You simply nod, not wanting to get into that conversation right away. Both you and Dean went to sit at the kitchen table. “I missed talking to you at the coffee cart.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry for what I said… before. You were my friend,” you say, looking into Dean’s eyes. He gave you a small smile.

“You were right, though. I was your professor, and it wouldn’t have been right if we were friends then. But now, since I am not giving you a grade, I’m hoping that we can start this friendship over. If you’ll have me,” Dean shrugged, passing the ball into your court.

“Yeah, of course, I want to be your -” you were cut off by another knock on the door. You sighed, getting up while giving an apologetic look to your guest. Looking through the peephole, you let out a small groan. Of course, during this conversation would be when Brandon showed up, wasted yet again. Opening the door, he stumbled forward, falling into your arms.

“Ugh, Jesus Brandon,” you huff, adjusting so you wouldn’t fall under his weight. Dean had gotten up, moving towards you. “Dean, it’s fine, I got him. Mind shutting the door?” Dean nodded, following your instructions. It was apparent he was biting his tongue, not wanting to upset you again.

“De - Dean?” Brandon slurred.

“Yes. This is Dean, he’s my friend,” you glanced over to Dean, seeing him smirk to himself, “he helped you up here one night. You passed out in the lobby.”

“Mhm… yeah sure,” Brandon said as you dropped him onto the couch, “ just watch out Deeeannn. She seems fun and sexy but is really just a tease.” He laughed to himself as you glared at him.

“You’re right. I don’t put out for drunken assholes,” you say, matter-of-factly.

“It’s too bad really; you see, she is magic with her -” Brandon is cut off by your hand covering his mouth.

“Shut up,” you hiss before removing your hand. He rolls his eyes before lying down on the couch, starting to doze off. You walk back to Dean, who stood in the kitchen, eyebrows raised. In disbelief that you could be with someone like him. “Before you ask why I’m still with him… it’s a long story.” Dean simply nodded while you grabbed a paper and pen from the kitchen counter.

“Here, this is my number. Text me or call or whatever. We can meet up for coffee and finish our chat,” you say, ripping off a piece of paper and quickly scribbling down your phone number.

“Maybe I’ll get the chance to hear that long story?” Dean smirked.

“Depends, if you’re lucky,” you let out a small laugh. You walked Dean to the front door, giving a short wave as he left. Closing the door, your thoughts of Dean were quickly interrupted by the drunken snoring coming from the family room. You rolled your eyes, ignoring Brandon on the couch, deciding to go to bed yourself.

--------

The next day you woke up to a text from Dean:

Hey, it’s Dean. Wanna get coffee? Today, tomorrow, whenever really :)

You smiled, shaking your head at the message. It didn’t take long for a pit to grow in your stomach. Was this emotional cheating? You hadn’t smiled at a text from Brandon in who knows how long. All you wanted was to send a flirty message back but decided against it.

Sure. Tomorrow? 11?

It didn’t take long to get a response.

Yep! Sounds great. Meet in the lobby.

You rolled out of bed. Putting your phone down, you went to the bathroom to take a shower. Unfortunately, the warm water couldn’t even soothe your tension. You couldn’t stop thinking of Dean. The guy who got you coffee, the guy who waited so long to be your friend. And damn, was his smile sexy. But you were with Brandon. Not like that relationship was totally failing before your eyes or anything.

Leaving the bathroom, you were met with the familiar scent of bacon. You did quick work of getting dressed before making your way to the kitchen, following the intoxicating aroma. Your jaw almost dropped to the floor. There was Brandon, sitting at the table with a plate of bacon and pancakes in front of him, and another right next to him.

“Hey... I made breakfast,” Brandon said, looking at you as you walked in.

“You… made breakfast,” you repeated with your eyebrows raised. It had probably been a year since he had cooked you anything.

“Yeah. I wanted to say that I’m sorry. I’ve been a dick recently. I want you to know that I know that. And I’m going to try and do better,” Brandon said apologetically, his voice laced with shame. You hated to admit it, but you were hopeful. You had waited through all of his bullshit, wanting him to realize he had fucked up. And now, here he was.

“One breakfast isn’t going to fix everything. You know that, right?” You tell him, arms crossing in front of you.

“Yes, yes. I know. I plan to make you breakfast tomorrow as well,” Brandon joked with a smile. You couldn’t help but chuckle. “... but truly, Y/N. I know. I promise I’ll do better.”

You nodded, sitting down to breakfast with your boyfriend. It felt like you were with the Brandon you fell for, the one you moved in with. Not the drunken idiot who had taken over. All morning the two of you talked. He asked you how your first semester went, letting you rant on and on. He barely said a word about himself, putting all the attention on you. It made you feel special for the first time in a very long time.

Once breakfast was over, you two went over to the couch. You binge-watched your favorite movies, quoting the lines. Brandon even made popcorn, attempting to throw pieces into your mouth. The two of you laughed, which hadn’t happened in so long. Sure, you two still had work to do before you could trust that he was new and improved, but this was an excellent start. Maybe this was just a phase of his, a quarter-life crisis or something. By the end of the night, you watched a rom-com, his arm around you as you leaned into his chest.

“Thank you for giving me another chance,” Brandon whispered into your hair.

“I missed this. I missed you,” your voice wavering as you looked up at him. Looking into his eyes, you could see the guilt floating in them. He brought his hand up, cupping your cheek. The two of you stayed like that for a while, looking into each other’s eyes.

“Can I kiss you?” Brandon asked like he had when you first started dating. You gave him a small smile, nodding. Leaning down, his lips met yours softly. It wasn’t lustful or sloppy like kisses you had shared in the last few months. It was an apology all on its own.

You scooted up, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck, deepening the kiss. He followed your lead, one arm wrapping around your waist while his other hand ran through your hair. The two of you continued to kiss for a few minutes, holding each other. It didn’t take long for you both to become more heated and passionate.

Standing up together, barely separating, you began to make your way to the bedroom. Brandon guided you as you stepped backward. Moving your hands to the hem of his shirt, you pulled it up and over his head, letting it drop onto the floor of your family room. He mimicked your motion, your shirt following close behind. Before you knew it, the two of you had left a trail of clothing throughout your apartment. Lifting you so your legs could wrap around his waist, he kissed you passionately, laying you onto the bed.

That night you fell asleep wrapped in Brandon’s arms, your bare skin warm against his. You weren’t in bed alone like you were used to, with your boyfriend passed out on the couch. You were peaceful, content. Drifting off to sleep, you hoped that this was a new beginning.

69 notes · View notes

missfay49 · 3 years

Text

Just Speak

Summary: Janus and Remus being domestic. Well, as domestic as they can be.

Warnings: body horror, space, aliens, suggestive content, food, poison mention, venom mention, talk of medical procedures

Word Count: ~2060

AO3

Down Time

“Say it. Say it, pleeeaze? Please, please, please, please-”

Remus is crouching in front of the kitchen table, only the top of his head and his fingertips visible from where he’s gripping the edge. His eyes are wide and teeth bared.

Janus is sitting across from him, elbows on the table, face in his hands, staring at Remus through his fingers. He looks tired and more than a little disturbed.

“Remus, honestly? I don’t know if I can take another one. Do I enjoy a good philosophical debate now and then? Yes. That’s not this. You’re trying to destroy me!” He squints and sits up, lowering his arms. “It’s rude.”

“Hee! Last one, I prom-ise.” Remus rolls the ‘r’ and jumps from his crouch onto the table. By the time he lands, he’s an eight-legged Boston Terrier, bouncing and giving Janus authentic puppy eyes - several of them.

Janus releases a shuddering sigh of defeat.

“Fine,” he mutters through gritted teeth, a thousand-yard stare overtaking him.

“Pinky,” he asks. “Are you pondering... what I’m pondering?”

Terrier-Remus erupts into a full-grown side again, standing on top of the table. Janus leans back, looking up at him and grimacing.

“YES!” He cackles in triumph, then pauses, confused. “I mean, no!” He smirks again.

“Unless, of course, you are also pondering the expansion of the universe and its correlation to black holes, because if matter disappears into the black holes of our universe, yet we continue to grow, then that implies not only that pocket universes are forming on the other side of those black holes, but that our own universe is also a pocket dimension formed on the other side of a black hole we cannot see - in a universe above our own - supplying our universe with matter at such a rate that we cannot lose it fast enough?! And are you further pondering whether life first formed in our universe or the one above ours, and if it formed there first, does that mean that they put us here on purpose? Are they watching us? Are we just an experiment to them, CURSED,” he screeched. “-to struggle for the sick curiosity of an ancestral yet alien race that may decide to terminate us at any moment?!”

Remus stands over him, hands clutching the air, panting at the end of his monologue. Janus stares up at him, mouth agape. Logan laughs.

Logan?

Janus turns slowly, reluctant to take his eyes off the spectacle before him. Logan is sitting cross-legged on the couch behind them, apparently having watched the whole thing.

“Hilarious.” He puts a hand to his chin. “The odds of Janus pondering that exact same thing at the same time are preposterous. Excellent joke, Remus.”

“Spaghetti!”

“That was not a joke - it was an existential crisis!” Janus yells at the both of them.

“I am not sure why it should cause any distress.” Logan says evenly. “While it is technically possible for that scenario to be true, it is not more true now than it was before you were aware of it. And there is literally nothing we can do about it, given our species’ current technological progress.”

While Logan speaks, Remus climbs down, sits at the table, and conjures a plateful of piano wire covered in marinara. He’s spinning a fork into the mess, nodding sagely all the while. Janus watches him take a crunchy bite.

“This is why Virgil left, you know.” Janus simpers, summoning a glass of… soup.

“Oh, boo, Janny.” Remus speaks out of a second mouth he’s just added to his shoulder. It’s grin belies something sinister. “He left for much worse reasons than that!”

Janus sighs into his wine. Logan walks over to join them at the table, summoning a notepad and pencil.

“Remus, could you describe what is happening to your teeth right now? I’m curious.”

“Absolutely!”

On a Mission

“Remus? Darling, where are you?” Janus calls from the kitchen. A shape appears to the side, just catching the corner of his eye. Remus is inexplicably soaking wet.

“Ah, there you are.” Janus claps his hands together. “Remus, dear, did you place this giant terrarium here just off the kitchen?” Remus peers into a thick jungle sprouting out where the oven used to be.

“Sounds like me, but I don’t remember. Are there dangerous creatures in it?”

“If the shrieks are any indication, undoubtedly.”

“Then, yes!” Remus shimmies, shaking off the water. Janus admires the spray, smiling.

“That’s exactly what I wanted, thank you. Come along, now, we’ve got specimens to collect.” With a flourish, Janus twirls around and strides into the foliage. Remus snaps his fingers, donning a stained and battered explorer’s outfit, equally as wet as before, and leaps in after him shouting something about ‘smashing!’.

Working Late

Remus tiptoes down the hallway, leaving a trail of flour-based footprints behind him. He’s dusted halfway up his shins with the stuff. He slows and stops when he sees the light still on under his target’s doorway. Janus is usually asleep by now. He twists the knob, willing the hinges to squeal with their utmost spooky capacity.

The bed is empty and neatly made. Janus is at his desk instead, cape and hat hanging off the back of the chair. His gloves are nowhere to be seen. There’s a pen still upright in his hand, but his head rests on his arm and he’s fast asleep. Even the noise doesn’t stir him.

Looming over his shoulder, Remus examines what was keeping him up so late. Small stoppered vials full of pale liquids are lined up in a specially-made wooden crate. Latex gloves, wash cloths, and a mask are discarded atop a metal tray. A pair of safety goggles are resting on Janus’ head.

Half the vials are affixed with permanent labels in a clean handwritten script. The rest just have sticky notes and scribbled words.

Taxine alkaloids, Taxus brevifolia

Abrus precatorius

“Oo hoo hoooo!” Remus claps excitedly as black tentacles tear through his clothing. They wrap around Janus and lift him from the chair with surprising grace. Janus only startles for a moment, settling back down when he recognizes the feel of the limbs surrounding him.

“I’m nearly finished,” he murmurs. Remus just presses him down into the bed, tendrils pulling down the blankets. As the tentacles pull away, Janus shivers; nothing but his boxer briefs remain on him, the rest having vanished somewhere between the bed and the desk. He pulls the blankets up tight as Remus perches on the footboard. The tentacles are slowly slurping back into his body.

“Prenez une petite mort. Your nightmares are more interesting when you get more sleep.” Remus grins wide, revealing rows of shiny, dagger-like teeth. A tentacle passes by the desklamp and hits the switch. In the darkness, he sounds ravenous.

“Don’t worry. I’ll stay right by your side…”

“Fine. Goodnight, Remus.”

Janus sleeps soundly knowing nothing will get past his bodyguard tonight.

Almost Ready

“What scent should I use?” Remus has brought three different perfume bottles for Janus to choose from. “Ozone, battery acid, or meat?”

“Oo, tough call...” Janus deadpans, focusing on tying a bow onto the crate just so. “Sure you don’t have bloody mouse-y with a dash of hot sauce?” He slaps a hand over his own mouth when he realizes what he’s said.

“A classic! You got it, Santa-snakey.” Remus snaps his fingers. The first three bottles vanish, and a fourth appears. It’s filled with a thick, bright red paste.

“For the love of Liza Minnelli, do not spray that in here.”

The Gift

Logan sits unsuspecting in the living room having a cup of tea and reading an article about Maria Skłodowska-Curie on his phone. The dark duo appear out of thin air on either side of him, the rustle and movement of the couch his only clues, except… Logan puts his tea down.

“Remus, what is that smell?”

“Best not to think about it too hard,” Janus interjects. “Here.”

Janus holds a hand out before Logan, a mysterious shape underneath a black cloth. He flings the cloth away dramatically to reveal a present wrapped in gold-foil paper and a black silk ribbon. Logan blinks at the surprise.

“This wrapping is quite aesthetically pleas- oof!”

Remus drops a ten-pound box in Logan’s lap, knocking his phone to the ground. Janus deftly moves his gift out of the way. The box is wrapped in yesterday’s paper and tied in a series of reef knots. The top facing article features the latest alligator attack suffered by yet another “Florida Man”.

“Thanks!” Logan squeaks out. “I will just open this first, if you don’t mind, Janus?” The other side nods.

Logan carefully unties the knots and opens the box - the cake box. Because inside is a pale blue frosted cake with rock candy cutting through the side.

“It is beautiful. Is it meant to resemble blue agate?” Logan carefully lifts the cake out of the box and places it on the table.

“It’s meant to resemble a vagina! It’s a vageode cake! I made it last night.”

“Is this another reference I need to learn?” Logan asks them both, but Janus just shrugs while Remus pokes holes in the cake and laughs.

“Mine next,” Janus reminds him.

“Ah, yes.” Logan accepts the gold package Janus hands him and undoes the bow with one pull. Underneath the foil is a smooth wooden crate holding eight vials.

“Oh! ‘Nerium oleander’. ‘Atropa belladonna’.” Logan starts reading off the labels. “Poisons?”

“And venoms-s-s.” Janus says low. “So you can help Thomas’ competitors- I mean, his fellow actors, take a well deserved break. Or, you know, develop life-saving antivenoms, or whatever. Your choice.”

“Thank you? I am not going to poison Thomas’ colleagues.”

“You can test them on me!” Remus winks at him.

“Surely that won’t be necessary. Although, testing does provide a lot of data.” Logan looks thoughtful for a moment. “Say, do you think- wait, no, that’s unethical.”

“Who cares about ethics, you’re not a doctor! Tell me tell me!” Remus bounces on the cushion, making a horrible sucking sound with each rebound.

“Well, I would need to do some research first. Is it still considered an autopsy if the patient is alive?” Logan picks his phone off the ground and starts opening tabs.

“Wait!” He stops himself. “I’ve got your gifts upstairs. I didn’t know when you would be popping in. I’ll be right back.”

Logan leaves the two sitting on the couch. Janus preens.

“Another highly successful encounter. Do you think he’s caught on to our devious plan, yet?” He smirks at Remus.

“Definitely not. What was the plan again?”

Janus tsks.

“Our very evil plan to befriend the nerd under the guise of traditional holiday celebrations, reconcile all the sides with his help, and thereby help Thomas achieve self-actualization? You know, the ultimate plan?” He squints at Remus. “Did we not go over the plan?”

“Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Then why did you make that cake?”

“Cause we harvested all those poisons and I wanted to try my hand at creating a vagina!” Remus tears a chunk of cake off and starts to eat it. Blueberry filling starts to pour out.

“You know they’re not blue, right?”

“Maybe not the ones you’ve seen.” Crumbs are falling everywhere. Janus withholds any more questions to prevent a bigger mess and texts a warning to Logan not to eat the poisoned cake.

At that moment, the front door swings open. The pair on the couch freeze. Roman and Virgil start loudly carrying in armfuls of groceries, complaining about the lack of snow.

“Patton, we’re back!”

Footsteps upstairs are rapidly approaching. Janus nods to Remus.

“That’s our cue.” They stand up as one.

“Hey!” Virgil shouts. “What are you two doing here?!”

“Villains! We’re being invaded by villains!” Roman cries out, rushing into the living room.

“Now, Remus!” Janus drops out of sight with a swirl of his cape just in time to avoid the explosion of glitter as Remus’ form erupts like a balloon.

When Patton comes downstairs, Roman is standing in the middle of the room spitting out neon green glitter with his sword drawn, and Virgil is ranting about perimeter security and motion detectors, floor sensors and alarms.

Logan comes down a moment later carrying two gift bags.

“Hm.” His phone buzzes.

The cake is a lie.

Come visit anytime.

@sanderssidesgiftxchange @on-and-on-we-go-forever

17 notes · View notes

zims-left-shoe · 4 years

Text

Agent Mothman (Dib x Male Reader)

Like most of my other fics, characters are aged up to high school. Plus, a friendly reminder that my request box is open!!

The silence was overwhelming. The pressure of everyone's collective held breath was almost palpable, your chest reactively tightening for no good reason. As you looked around you, eyes were wide, jaws were set and clenched in preparation to cringe. The only two who stuck out from the crowd were Zim and Dib, when did they not? Zim looked lost in thought, mind seemingly several thousand galaxies away, hands folded together neatly in front of his face, his chin resting on them. Dib, on the other hand, appeared to be over the whole ordeal. His posture was slouched as he stared ahead at the board through half-lidded eyes. As the quiet persisted, an anxious energy settled over your classmates (besides the two previously mentioned, of course). Eyes twitched, fingernails scraped the tables, feet began to tap restlessly on the floor.

"Y/n." The teacher finally spoke, bringing the whole class to sigh in relief, the building pressure suddenly released all at once. Many students leaned back in their chairs, high fiving each other. "Y/n, you will be partnered with Dib." You shrugged your shoulders as many looked to you in pity, some even whispering their sympathies. You had never aligned yourself with any group in particular throughout your school year. Granted, you were only a few months in, but you had switched schools so much you had learned to play the field. You avoided Dib considering his stigma, enabling you to be tolerated by the majority, however you were never mean to him. In fact, you rather liked him. You only chose to silently observe him rather than act upon your curiosity.

"But wait, who's going to be paired with Zim?" You heard a student groan, everyone's breath being held once more. You let your gaze drift over to your partner. He seemed relieved, a slight smile settling on his lips. This was probably the best case scenario for everyone. No one else had to work with Dib, and you were the only one who never picked on him for being just a bit different.

Once your teacher had finished reading names, you were all asked to sit with your partners. Without an ounce of reluctance, you sauntered over to Dib's otherwise empty table, taking one of the many available seats surrounding him. You needed to figure out a plan quickly, considering you only had one night to do the project. The project wasn't super taxing, in fact it seemed almost like busy work that would promote socialization at the same time, but it wasn't like your time frame was ideal.

"Dib, right?" You held up your hand in a slight wave. "I don't think I've officially introduced myself. I'm Y/n."

"I know. The new kid who has no real friends yet is somehow still deemed acceptable by the popular kids? An anomaly for sure." Red painted his face, his eyes widening as he realized how his words may have came off as. "Shit, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound rude. Or creepy. You know what? I'll just stop talking." An awkward chuckle escaped your lips as his eyes fell to his sneakers. After a slight pause, Dib spoke again, his tone much more reserved than before. "I can just do the whole project and you can put your name on it if you want. It's not that hard." He was giving you an out, not wanting to piss you off. Reaching an arm out, you slugged his shoulder lightly.

"Nah, come on. I don't roll that way. Besides, I want to hang out with you a little."

"You...want to hang out...with me?" Dib pointed a finger to himself, eyes wide behind his large glasses. An incredulous expression was etched into every single feature of his face, as if he couldn't believe those words left your mouth.

"Yeah." After that syllable, the bell rang, dismissing you from school. You stood up, gathering your things. "Anyway, I'll be at your place after dinner. Just text me your address or whatever." You quickly scribbled your digits down on a scrap piece of paper that was laying around, passing it to him. "See ya!" You dashed away, sneaking one last glance back to see Dib still sitting in his chair, as still as a statue, not believing that this was even happening.

Your stomach felt as if it was full of butterflies, and you couldn't shake the grin that had spread across your face as you began your walk home.

God...he was even cuter than I thought... You were embarrassed by your own thoughts, pinching yourself on the arm. Truth was, you may or may not have been stalking him a little. He lived in your neighborhood, and you just couldn't help it. You had always been a hopeless romantic of sorts, and all it took was one look at him in class giving a presentation on the gremlin in his backyard and you were in love. You didn't even need his address, you knew where he lived, but you didn't want to make him feel uncomfortable, so you asked for it anyway. Plus, it was a way to sneak him your number. And it wasn't as if you were actively trying to find out where he lived. It was pretty much impossible to ignore him and Zim screaming at each other as they ran back and forth between their houses all day.

"This is going to be a long night." You sighed out, foot striking out to kick a rock, the satisfying skittering sounds it made calming your nerves a small amount.

You drew in a deep breath as you brought your fist to the door, rapping on it a few times. Rocking back on your heels, you clutched your notebook and other supplies tightly to your chest, internally cringing at yourself. Everyone at school thought you were incredibly cool, but on the inside, you were just a lovesick gay who was overflowing with big dumb energy. The door swung open, bringing you to jump and be pulled from your motivational speech that was being given inside your head.

"Come on in. I'm surprised you showed up." Dib stepped aside to let you in, gesturing past the living room to the kitchen where a purple-haired girl sat at a table, picking at the remaining food on her plate. A floating monitor hovered near the table as well. "We're just finishing dinner, but you can follow me if you want." Nodding, you padded behind the social outcast wordlessly, taking a seat next to him at the table. "Gaz, this is Y/n, my partner for my project. Y/n, this is my sister Gaz."

"Hey." You waved to the girl. Her expression remained squinty as she continued to pick at her food, eyes dancing between her plate and a Game Slave which was charging on the counter.

"Whatever." She grumbled, never even directly acknowledging your existence once. You began to wonder if Dib was actually the most normal out of his entire family, which was saying something. Dib awkwardly cleared his throat as he pointed to the floating monitor, which displayed a man in a lab coat and goggles furiously working on something.

"Oh, and this is my dad. He's at work right now, like usual. When he can't be with us for dinner, he either videocalls us from his lab or plays a pre-recorded video reminding us of chores and dinner instructions." Despite how sad the things he had just said sounded, not an ounce of bitterness was up for display on his face. Instead, his eyes shone with pride, happy to have a dad who was making a difference in the world, even if he could never really be a conventional father. "Anyway, just let me clean up and then we can get to work." Dib stood up, bringing his own plate over to the sink and running it under water, placing it in in its respective place in the dishwasher afterwards. Waving for you to follow him, he led you down the hall to a room that was clearly his. The door was covered in posters and stickers of aliens and other supernatural creatures, a good sized "Keep Out" sign the centerpiece. You wondered what would be inside, becoming excited. You figured you were the first person besides his own family to be seeing his room. He twisted the knob, casually pushing the door open, allowing you to step inside.

"Wow..." You trailed off as you glanced around. There was so much to look at. Your eyes darted from one thing to the next, barely able to take it all in. There were several computer monitors surrounding a desk that was littered in papers and catalogues for supernatural hunting items, a few prototypes of possibly his dad's inventions scattered there as well. His room was lined with posters of aliens and other entities, an important looking briefcase thrown haphazardly onto his bed. The one thing that held your gaze the longest was a ginormous cork board. Several photos, drawings, diagrams, and hurried scribbles of notes were tacked up there, filling it to the max. Each paper was connected with color coded strings, things circled in colored pen seemingly at random, although you knew better. It was the definition of organized chaos. In large, bold, red letters, one word was scrawled on a paper at the top of the board: ZIM.

"I'm sorry, I tried to clean it as best I could. It's still kind of a mess." Dib hurriedly stacked papers together on his desk, trying to make it look presentable.

"It's fine, don't worry about it. You should see my room. Half of my shit isn't even out of boxes yet, and we moved in months ago." You laughed, sitting down on his floor. "So, alien invasion, huh? Isn't Zim that kid with the skin condition?" You asked, gesturing to his cork board. His shoulders tensed as he unplugged his computer and brought it down to the ground, taking a seat beside you.

"Could we just get to work? Please?" He seemed to want to sweep that subject under the rug, and you decided that you would let him.

"Okay...so anyway, this research poster. You got a topic in mind?" Your prompt drew him out of his unsociable shell, albeit hesitantly.

"Personally, I was thinking Area 51, but if you wanted to do something else..." He genuinely appeared to not want to upset you, despite usually not caring about how he came off to others.

"That sounds great, Dib. Interesting too. You think they're really hiding aliens there?" Laying down on your stomach, you rested your face in the palms of your hands, gearing up for a long talk. A smile crept onto your face as immediately his eyes lit up.

"I'm glad you asked."

"I think we have the essentials. Now we just need to get them onto the poster, which is probably the most time consuming part." Dib stretched his arms towards the ceiling while you yawned and cracked your back. You didn't know how long you had been sitting on the floor for, but a glance to the clock by his bed told you it was 8:01 pm. The two of you had spent the last couple of hours researching, organizing notes, and mainly just talking about yourselves. You had no idea why everyone constantly was ragging on him. You found him to be incredibly interesting and entertaining, hanging onto every single word he spoke. You weren't really sure if you believed in all of these supernatural creatures, but you also didn't think that they couldn't exist.

"I think so too. You ready to start on the poster now?" Reaching out, you gathered the posterboard and construction paper Dib had brought in from his garage together.

"Yeah, in a minute. I have to use the bathroom and then see what Gaz is up to, I'll be back in a few." You hummed a response, Dib standing up and exiting, closing the door softly behind him. Deciding to take a closer look at the Zim conspiracy board, you pushed yourself to your feet, leaning close to try and decipher the grainy images. One in particular caught your eye. It wasn't in color, and everything seemed fairly blurry. Zim, or what was supposedly Zim, was hunched over something that looked to be a robot. Except, as you looked even closer, Zim seemed to have these buggish eyes and long, skinny antennae in place of his hair. Rubbing your eyes, you flopped down onto Dib's bed.

"God, I must be seeing things." You had managed to convince yourself that you had been staring at computer screens and papers for far too long, and that your eyes were playing tricks on you, showing you what Dib wanted you to see. Closing your eyes for a minute, the rise and fall of your chest turned slow and steady, and you could feel your grip on reality loosening.

A ringtone of sorts snapped you back from your almost-doze, and at first you thought it was your phone, but after waking up a bit more, you realized it was coming from one of Dib's monitors. It appeared he was getting a call. The monitor showed nothing besides a logo of some sort of eye, as well as an option to accept the call or decline. Filled with curiosity, your feet took you to his desk where his monitor sat. You barely felt in control of your body as your finger swiped at the screen in the direction to accept the call.

"Agent Mothman-" The voice coming through the monitor was distorted, but you got the impression that it was on purpose. The image displayed was a dark silhouette of what seemed to be a man. "You're not Mothman."

"You mean that cryptid from West Virginia? No. I'm not." You took a seat in Dib's desk chair, which was very comfy. You assumed he spent a lot of time in it when he wasn't hanging out with Zim.

"Who are you and what do you know?" The voice was menacing, and you vaguely wondered if Dib was involved in something more serious than you thought. Quirking an eyebrow, you tried to not let any miniscule amount of fear you were feeling show.

"I'm, we'll just say Agent, uh...Nessie." Feeling uncreative, your mind drifted to the Loch Ness Monster.

"You're not Nessie either."

"You got one of those too? Ugh, fine. What about Agent Chupacabra?"

"Well, no, but...you're not any agent we know of."

"But I could be! Agent Chupacabra reporting for duty!" You brought your hand up to your head stiffly in a mock salute.

"But you're not a member of the Swollen Eyeball! What are you doing on Mothman's computer?"

"The Swollen what now?" You were smiling stupidly, only because you couldn't really grasp what the current situation was.

"Hey, sorry, Gaz decided to hound me over drinking the last soda, so I took a little longer than I thought-" Dib opened the door to reveal you sitting in his desk chair, trying to look all spooky for the guy in the monitor. You thought he'd laugh at your stupidity, but he was not in the least bit amused. "OH MY GOD AGENT DARK BOOTY!" Slamming his room door, he darted over to where you were sitting, almost tripping and falling on his face. He made a strangled noise as he noticed the disappointed expression that rested on the silhouette's face.

"Who is your little friend, Agent Mothman?" The distorted voice was cold, and you could feel Dib almost shrink next to you.

"Listen, I can explain-"

"I thought we stressed secrecy, and the fact that you are not allowed to have outsiders sit in on our important meetings."

"Meeting?" All of a sudden, several of the other monitors sparked to life, various other silhouettes coming into view. Just in one glance, you could see that Dib wanted nothing more than to fade away into a cloud of space dust in that moment. You stayed silent, knowing that Dib was in some serious trouble because of you.

"We had a meeting at 8:30 pm sharp, Mothman. You knew this. And you had a friend over?" Dib's face, already pale, turned even more so. Any lighter, and you thought for sure he'd become a ghost on the spot.

"I am so sorry, I had a school project, and he's my partner, I lost track of time." He looked absolutely helpless, and without a word, you stood up and gathered the poster supplies. Snapping back to his senses, he turned to you and began shoving you out of his room and herding you to the front door.

"Dib, I-"

"You really need to go!" There were no other words said between the two of you as he quite literally slammed the door in your face. A sigh slipped past your lips as you clutched your project items in your arms, dragging your feet across the pavement on your walk home. You lazily stumbled through your front door, mumbling a greeting to your parent(s) as you headed to your room, gearing yourself up to finish the project before morning.

"Thank you to Y/n and Dib for their, erm, informative...presentation on Area 51. That was your last one, so enjoy your last five or so minutes of class." Your teacher went back to their desk as you and Dib retreated to your own table. You hadn't talked much since the incident last night, and quite frankly, you were tired from spending hours of your night creating the visual portion of your project. Dib's lips were tightly pressed together in a thin line, and you guessed there was something he wanted to get off his chest.

"Look, Dib. If there's something you want to say to me, just do it. I'm sorry for answering your call, that was not a good move on my part, and I also apologize for getting you in trouble with your, uh...society." Running a hand through his dark hair, Dib shook his head.

"No, that was my bad. I forgot I had a meeting. I'm also really sorry for kicking you out and then forcing you to finish the project on your own." Your expression softened, unable to resist forgiving him.

"Yeah, that was kind of a dick move." You elbowed him jokingly, hoping he would loosen up now that bygones were bygones.

"No, seriously. How can I make it up to you?" He looked as if he wouldn't be taking no for an answer. He had gotten a taste of what having someone who genuinely enjoyed being around him was like, and he wasn't willing to let that go. A sly grin tugged at your lips, and almost immediately an idea came to mind.

"Consider yourself forgiven if you take me ghost hunting, or whatever it is you do." His shoulders tensed, but relaxed when he realized you weren't making fun of him.

"Well, you're in luck. I just received a case file investigation last night on a bigfoot lead. I'll pick you up at eight, if that works?" His words were cautious, almost as if he still believed you were phishing.

"It's a date!" You cheered happily, already excited about getting to spend more time with him. A faint blush dusted his cheeks at your wordage.

"Of-Of course." He stammered out, grateful for the bell that rang not even a second after.

"See you tonight, Dib!" You waved as you made your way home, wanting eight to come as fast as possible.

"He knows the project is over, right?" Torque Smacky raised an eyebrow, questioning Dib and wondering why someone as cool as you would be hanging around with a guy like Dib by choice.

The doorbell rang, and you sprang up from where you sat on the couch, overjoyed to head out. Practically throwing open the door revealed Dib in all of his trench coat glory, albeit a bit nervous looking and sweaty.

"Alright Mr. Mothman, where are we going?" You grabbed onto his arm, eventually linking it with your own. He cringed at the nickname, but resisted nothing else.

"To the park. Apparently, some woman saw bigfoot there the other night. Also, fun fact, I saw bigfoot in my garage one time. He was using the belt sander." Your eyes widened, and you immediately realized why everyone called him crazy. You took it upon yourself to believe him. He obviously believed in himself, so why shouldn't you?

"Interesting. You see any other spooks in your time here?" He shrugged as you walked.

"I mean, I think a few ghosts and, well, aliens of course, but we've been over that. Also, I have vague memories of being abducted by aliens as a kid. I think they were trying to experiment on me to create some sort of genius super baby or something." You couldn't help the laughter that tumbled from your mouth. It wasn't necessarily laughing at him, more so that you weren't sure how else to respond. You didn't want to put him down, but at the same time, his story was very out there. And although you weren't 100% on board with the whole supernatural thing, you believed in him and his words. If that was his truth, you would stand by it. "You ever see anything supernatural?" You pointed a finger to yourself, as if to ask, 'me?'.

"Well, I mean...I did live in West Virginia for a while when I was younger...a lot younger. And then we moved around a lot." Your eyes instinctively narrowed as you tried to recall those times with you and your neighborhood friends. "And, you know, Mothman was like the local legend. He's basically a celebrity down there."

"No way! Did you actually, like, see him?" If you didn't already have it, you sure had his full attention now.

"No. I believed in him for a while, but we never saw him, and as I got older and distanced myself from there, I just kind of figured it was bullshit. My friends and I, we would go out at night trying to hunt for him with flashlights and stuff. Sometimes we'd bring lamps onto the porch and plug them in, building little 'Welcome, Mothman' forts to sleep in." You chuckled, remembering how much you had believed in all the spookies and specters as a child.

"That's adorable." Dib's lips were parted in a smile as he continued to lead you deeper into the park. You weren't sure when you had actually gotten there, but you weren't really paying much attention.

"Well, maybe we could do that together some time. I know Mothman isn't really big in this part of the country, but who knows. Maybe he'll come." Softly bumping Dib in the side, you were pleased to see his smile only grow.

"I'd like that." The nice moment was interrupted by rustling of the trees, and Dib turned on his flashlight, pointing it to the treetops. "There!"

"I thought bigfoot was more on the ground!" You called as you raced after him. You both came to a grinding halt, your feet skidding in the grass to try and avoid ramming straight into Dib's back. The boy you were with aggressively pointed his flashlight into the tree, resulting in a loud hiss from whatever was up there. "Maybe it's just a cat, Dib!" You tried to pull him away, not really liking how riled up he was at the moment.

"Zim! What are you doing here?! What evil things are you planning?"

"Zim?" You looked upwards, following the beam of the flashlight. Sure enough, there was a green body hunched in a tree branch, a robot of some sort next to him.

"None of your business, Dib-stink!" Zim spat, turning to face your friend. It was then you got a good look at his face. It wasn't the slightly abnormal one you were used to seeing every day. His eyes were red and buglike, sleek, black antennae sprouting from his head.

"Holy shit, Dib. You're not crazy." You flicked your flashlight on as well, aiming it at who you thought was your classmate. "He really is an alien!" A strangled cry came from the alien sitting atop the tree branch.

"GIR! Do something!"

"Yes, master!" The once cheerful-looking robot suddenly turned much more serious, dropping down from the branch to where the two of you were standing. You yelped, unsure of what this thing was capable of.

"Relax, his robot is pretty much usele-" Dib began, but his sentence came to an abrupt end when several missals and other weapons emerged from his head.

"How do you like GIR's new adjustments, Dib? I finally got his behavioral chip fixed to where he's responsive, but not too serious." Zim smirked, and with the point of one of his clawed fingers, his robot was on the two of you.

Simultaneously, both of you let out a scream, reaching desperately for each other's hands as you ran for your lives back to Dib's place. Your feet pounded the pavement, lungs feeling as if someone was raking knives down your throat and organs, yet despite all that, you both refused to look back. Only when you were on his porch did you feel comfortable sneaking a glace behind you, only to find an empty street lit up by streetlights. Breathing heavily, the two of you leaned on each other for support. Dib looked very worse for wear. He didn't seem to be too athletically inclined.

"I think...we lost him..." You spoke between gasps for air, grinning all the while. He nodded vigorously, still wheezing. After the two of you had regained your breath, you both managed to catch each other's gaze. You felt every portion of your brain that was in charge of thinking shut down as you leaned in closer to him. You were barely even aware of what you were doing as you pressed your lips to his. His eyes looked as if they were about to burst from his skull, but after a moment, they eased shut as he relaxed into the kiss. You pulled away, feeling heat rush to your cheeks, almost as if your face was on fire. Your stomach was tied in too many knots to even look at Dib, but if you had, you would have seen that he wasn't fairing much better. In fact, he was probably in worse condition. "Thanks for the night of fun, Agent Mothman."

"Uh-huh." He mumbled out, and his brain looked miles away. You decided just to go home before you did or said anything else that could be classified as stupid. As you power-walked away, Dib's hand found its way to his lips, where the feeling and warmth of your own still lingered.

#invader zim #fanfic #fanfiction #dib membrane #dib x reader #invader zim x reader #invader zim fic #invader zim fanfiction #oneshot #one shot #invader zim oneshot #invader zim one shot

82 notes · View notes

rokutouxei · 3 years

Text

the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

ikemen vampire: temptation through the dark theo van gogh / mc | T | [ ao3 link in bio ]

The challenge seemed pretty simple: to try to befriend the university bookshop's most sour employee, Theo van Gogh. As a literature major with a boatload of book recommendations on her back, it ought to be a simple task indeed. But as she uncovers what lies between Theo's pages, the more she finds it harder to become closer to him without having to put the feeling directly into words. What can she learn from Theo about what it means to stay—and how can she teach Theo about what it means to let go? | written for ikevamp big bang 2020!

[ masterpost for all chapters ]

CHAPTER 2 OF 22

In a small house in the better neighborhood of the university, a young man is beginning to dream. He’s chasing the afterimages of a vision he’d caught, trying to see if he can get it down on paper. It’s scary, but it’s exciting. He’s prepared his materials—the canvas, the pen, the paint—and he’s closed the door, and opened the shutters, letting the morning light flood the studio-cum-library in their small, rented home.

Vincent holds the pen gently, like a prayer, in his hands, before beginning to sketch.

The thing with living in such a small university town such as this is that you cannot escape the inevitable.

And by inevitable, that means you know someone who knows someone, and everyone kind of vaguely knows each other in some way or another—through a club, or a shared favorite hang-out spot, or an extracurricular. Everyone is someone’s something by a degree or another.

She’s learned this in her first year at university, but the lesson’s about to be driven a little closer to home today.

She’s seated in the café as usual, annotating a book when Vincent approaches her, a small brownie in hand. It’s not the ones they serve regularly, cut on a smaller bit, and maybe it’s one of the edges or corners in the baking tray. “Can I offer you a little snack?” he asks, offering the plate in front of her.

Looking up at him through round-rimmed glasses, she blinks. “Oh? Thank you, but—what’s this for?” she asks, as Vincent puts the plate down on a free spot on her table. He takes a seat on the free chair next to her.

“Can I ask you a favor?”

Modeling isn’t exactly her forte, but Vincent insists that he doesn’t need a full-blown model for his project—besides, he couldn’t have afforded it, even if he did need one. He’s working on “something”—by the rumors in the art department, she assumes it’s for his thesis, his capstone project, but who knows?—and he needs a little help on the lighting. He’s working with some tricky fabric, draped down bodies, and he isn’t quite sure how it should come out.

“It’ll only take two hours tops,” he promises, “if you wouldn’t mind. It’s not nude or anything risque, I just need to be able to see how the fabric drapes accordingly to the light. I’ll treat you to dinner afterward?”

Here’s the thing—one does not exactly say no to Vincent. The university town is small enough as it is, and everyone knows Vincent because he’s a legend in the art department. You do not turn down the offer to be painted by a master, or at least that’s how the logic goes. But at the same time, Vincent is always sunflowers and soft smiles, and when he looks at her like that… the only thing that comes out of her mouth is “Of course I will!”

“I’m sorry this is all so sudden,” he says sheepishly. “I just had this idea a bit back, and I’ve been wanting to work on it…”

“No, it’s okay,” she replies instantly. “You’re always reserving my favorite seat for me anyway, and you’ve always been so nice to me. We’re basically friends now, and friends do this for each other, yes?”

Vincent’s eyes glow in a way you’ve never seen before, and it makes you flush a little. “Friends? Of course, yes, thank you so much.”

His shift won’t end in another hour and a half, so he treats her to coffee (“you didn’t have to!” “it’s on me, I swear!”) as she’s waiting for him. She picks up her beautiful, hardbound copy of 1800s English literature, now lovingly highlighted and with many flags at certain pages, and begins to read, scribbling notes on a separate notebook.

By 5:15 Vincent is ready to go, dressed out of his uniform and into his casual clothes, a sweater one or two sizes too big for him over a shirt and some pants. He calls out her name gently, hand leaning on her table.

And she stares.

Vincent isn’t her type—he’s a little too angelic for her liking, as she does prefer those on the more rugged side—but she won’t deny that he’s attractive. She had never seen Vincent in casual clothes before—she’d seen him hang up his barista apron at the end of shifts before, but never actually caught him go home—and she pauses for a moment when he arrives at her table.

“Are you okay?”

“Haha,” she says awkwardly, coughing her shock away. “Yeah, I almost didn’t recognize you, is all. Let me just pack up?”

She hadn’t expected it, but she should have—that her friendly local barista, the legend of the art department—is living smack dab in the middle of their small town, at the perfect distance to everything. In a house, too, not a small dormitory. It’s a beautiful one painted white with a small garden and a porch outside, a tree standing tall and providing shade on the house, and a small classic mailbox in front—it looked like a house that belonged in the suburbs instead of in the middle of this very schoolish town. She can’t help the small whistle of appreciation when they get there.

“Our father knew the landlord,” Vincent explains, as he unlocks the door. “So we get it rather cheaply. Careful of the landing.”

We? She catches the plural but doesn’t get to ask, as she enters the apartment and marvels at it. It’s not extravagant, but it’s still rather fancy, considering she stays in a small studio room. There are paintings hanging on the walls—Vincent’s, she assumes—and everything is in attractive, warm colors. What catches her attention, however, is the small framed photo on the side table by the sofa, of two boys on a swing, a blond one (Vincent?) pushing one with brown hair (a cousin?).

“Five and three,” Vincent says, by way of explanation. She’s about to ask him who the other child is, but Vincent interrupts her. “Do you need water? A break?”

They’d walked quite a bit from the café, after all, and while she had her bike with her, Vincent didn’t, and so she just rolled it next to her throughout the whole 30-minute walk. “No, I’m okay. Where’s your studio?”

Vincent beams. “Here, come.”

They walk down the hall and enter a door to the left, and the studio opens up to her. The wall on the right has a row of high bookshelves, all nearly filled to the brim with books on all sorts of different topics. The wall where the door is has a layer of corkboard attached to it, where a multitude of prints and photos and papers with scribbles and notes are pinned and strung together. Most of the room’s floor is covered in some kind of paper—newspaper, craft paper—to protect the wooden slats below. There are easels stacked at the far side of the room, but facing away, so she can’t exactly see what is on them. And then, there is the set-up for Vincent’s current project: an easel in the center of the room with the sketch of a woman’s figure; a white sheet draping from the ceiling to the floor, serving as a backdrop, in the far corner; a steel circle hanging by the ceiling, the kind people sit on; black craft paper laid on the floor below it; and on top of it, a small stool, a fabric in beautiful vermillion, and some fairy lights.

“Welcome to the studio,” Vincent says, guiding her inside. “Sorry for the mess, I was working this morning.”

“No, it’s okay,” she says, carefully stepping in. “It’s so interesting to see your studio, where all the magic happens.”

Vincent flinches at that, but doesn’t make any other comment about it. She contemplates if she has to apologize, but doesn’t know exactly what she’ll have to apologize for. “No magic here,” Vincent mumbles.

He asks her to get comfortable on the wooden stool and maybe get a feel for the fabric, as he sets up his camera. The plan was this: she’ll get into the poses he needs for his project, he will take a couple photos for reference in different angles, and then he will take her out to dinner.

The time passes rather uneventfully, and pretty quickly, because the poses aren’t entirely too tricky on her end. A raised arm here, a dangle of hair in this direction, a tiptoe towards this—Vincent is gentle in maneuvering her around and quick in taking his photos, and in an hour they’re ready. Vincent thanks her profusely for her help as he’s packing away, and she laughs as she says “Well, you’re treating me to food, so it’s paid work.”

“Dinner, yes, of course,” Vincent nods, putting the camera back on its place on the bookshelf. “I actually got my brother to save a spot at, erm, my favorite place, if you don’t mind? It’s Greek food.”

“Oh, that’s fine! I didn’t know you had a brother, Vincent.”

“I do, he’s the sweetest thing,” he answers with a beam of a smile, so much so that for a moment she falters about joining them for dinner. One Vincent was bad enough for her heart as it is, but two of them? That’s not good news is it?

Except, yet again, the rule of not saying no to Vincent applies, and so after a bit of tidying they’re already on the way to the restaurant. An actual restaurant, mind you, not some cheapo fast food that Arthur treats her to. (“This isn’t fair, you know? Just because I’m not in your menu of dateables and bangables doesn’t mean you treat me disproportionately to everyone else.” “Stop complaining and eat your McDonald’s.”) It’s a small one, admittedly, but most of the stalls in this town is, anyway. Vincent peers into the building and then pulls her in, inviting her inside.

Vincent pauses for a moment. “I’ve been told he has quite an… aggressive face, but don’t be afraid of him okay?”

“If he’s your brother, there’s no reason to be scared,” she says with a smile. For a moment she is looking for a twin puff of sunflower blond hair, but then, remembering the photos, she begins to look for an equally-fluffy brown mop of hair, and just at the exact moment she comes to the realization—

“Hondje?!”

“Theo?!”

The thing with living in such a small university town such as this is that you cannot escape the inevitable.

It’s a silly thought. She even finds it rather ironic that that is the wise saying about making friends and getting to know other people in this university because running away is the one thing she wishes she was good at.

See, the first time she saw Theo, she thought, wow, this guy looks so insufferable. I can’t believe he works here, and I have to see him every week. This is the worst.

Until it isn’t.

She knew, the moment she made eye contact with Theo across the table in that homey Greek restaurant, that that event would change her life in ways she wouldn’t have—and couldn’t have—imagined. She just didn’t know how yet. Vincent was surprised that he didn’t need to introduce the two of them to each other, and with an irritated grumble, Theo had explained that she was a frequenter of the bookstore, taking a jab at her having no other friends and spending so much time around books instead. She quips back and says the reason they don’t have customers is that Theo’s face is enough to sour anyone’s day, and so no one but her comes anyway.

But Vincent is not the kind of person to have this happen, so instead, with a truce, his kind insistence, and irresistible smile—dammit!—she and Theo, instead, become friends. Good friends. Wait, no—they become begrudging friends.

But they don’t talk.

Theo doesn’t even give her his phone number.

No, they’re not friends. Not yet, anyway. Theo makes a show of only putting up with all of this for his brother, as he continues to ignore even the most cordial of texts like “thank you for putting a rush-order on my book!”, throwing insults back and forth with her in the bookshop. But eventually, both of them find a rhythm, a little liminal space of friends by circumstance and not by desire that they’ve agreed on.

That is until they begin the book exchange.

#the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart #ikemen vampire #ikevamp theo

5 notes · View notes

nominnation · 3 years

Text

Shard of Broken Things

Author's Note: This has been posted on NCT Amino and a03. It was made specifically for NCT Amino with the Writing Club as we make our way writing fics for every member of NCT.

Pairing(s): Renjun x Jaemin

Synopsis: Renjun and Jaemin went to high school together. They were the best of friends, but after high school, they went their separate ways. Now, Renjun is investigating the mysterious deaths in the city with his partner, Jeno, and Jaemin is piercing veins with his teeth and dumping the bodies in dumpsters at midnight. What happens when they meet again? Will Renjun discover Jaemin's secret?

Genre: angst, slight fluff, supernatural

Warnings: major character death, crime, insanity, minor blood

Hwang Renjun trailed his eyes over the body of the male laced in black garments, lying face first in the mud-caked asphalt, money and identification long plucked from the confines of his leather wallet.

Renjun rubbed his brow in frustration before carefully nudging the body of the male over, mentally choking when he realized how young he was. The male was no older than 25, long, dingy brown hair matted in clumps, obviously someone who had been homeless or had been held captive for a long time. He knelt down and brought his gloved hand up to push back the hood, searching for something he hoped wasn’t there. His hopes weren’t answered as his eyes zeroed in on the very familiar signature markings. “Well?” Detective Lee Jeno asked from his place by the garbage bins, evidence camera hanging loosely around his neck. “Call Chief Qian. We’ve got another,” he replied before stepping away, letting the coroner step forward to bag the body. Jeno shook his head with a drawn out sigh and pulled the phone from his police issued jacket, only pressing one button before raising it to his ear. “Bite marks on this one too,” he spoke into the speaker. Whatever was said on the other side was inaudible as Renjun passed his partner to slide into the passenger side of the black SUV.

~ Shiny black shoes silently hit the cobblestone floor as the owner led them down the narrow hallway, lit by fire lanterns along the windowless hall. When the torches came to an end, they were replaced with a metal winding staircase that creaked with every step, leading up to a heavy black door, beams of yellow light creeping around the creases. Pulling on the cold metal handle, he opened the door without so much as a groan at the weight before slipping inside, pulling the door closed. “You’re late!” an annoying “sing-song” voice greeted him. “Put a sock in it,” Jaemin muttered grumpily, kicking off his shoes off by the door. “Where’s Boss?” he asked, not looking at the younger male, hands plunged into elbow-high soapy water. “I think he’s in the office with Doyoung,” the male said, looking back down at the water as he pulled up a white ceramic plate, placing it in the dish drainer. Jaemin gave a nod and headed toward the open kitchen door before the younger at the sink called out to him. “Tell Tae that we need a dishwasher! I’m tired of doing it by hand!” Jaemin shook his head, a smile finding its way to his red lips. “That’s kinda the whole point of probation chores, Hyuck,” the male said, strolling out of the room, sock feet meeting laminated hardwood. He walked through the mostly unused sitting room and up another, narrower set of stairs, three stories high, getting off at the second story. A long hallway covered in white tile greeted him as he rounded the bend. He strolled down the hall, nose picking up strong whiffs of mold and Doyoung’s poisonous musk. The office, Taeyong’s office to be precise, resided at the end of the long hall, 10 doors down from the stairs. Jaemin brought a fist up to rap on the bullet proof, metal encased door, when said door swung open, a tearful Chenle walking out. Jaemin shot him a confused glance but dared not utter a word as the smaller male rushed from the door, nearly slipping on the tile as he hurried to the end of the hall for the stairs, most likely to the comfort of his room a floor below. Jaemin pushed through the half ajar door, letting it close with a heavy clang behind him as his eyes habitually squinted in the dark room, only lit by a single lamp, highlighting two shadowy faces that Jaemin didn’t need to see to know they were there. “Did you complete the task?” “Yes. He’s been taken care of,” he responded cooly. “Where?” “The alley of 5th street.” “Isn’t that where you dumped the last one?” Doyoung chimed in. Jaemin rolled his eyes, meeting Doyoung’s honey brown ones briefly before nodding. “It’s the closest to the dumpsters! Easiest place to put them!” Taeyong’s lips pursed at the comment before tapping a pen on the mahogany desk. “If you’re not careful, you’ll lead them right to us!�� Doyoung hissed. Jaemin tried to make it seem like the words didn’t affect him, but the truth was, the thought of leading the police back to him, back to them, was not a thought that had crossed his mind before. The realization hit him in the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t see all that well in the poorly lit room, but the inhale from Doyoung meant he wasn’t finished and he was getting ready to cut into Jaemin’s resolve once more when Taeyong raised his hand. “That’s enough.” His voice soft like honey, but held such command that Jaemin’s eyes met the floor and Doyoung’s mouth snapped closed. “Jaemin is a new recruit. He cannot be expected to know these things without being told,” he began. Doyoung scoffed, but the sharp look Taeyong sent his way had him hurriedly shutting up. “With that said, Jaemin, you may continue feasting, but when it is time to get rid of your meal, someone will escort you until you learn the ways of disposing,” he said. His tone was sharp and hard, digging into Jaemin’s resolve even more, because it wasn’t what he said that hurt, it was how he said it. Jaemin gave a curt nod, clasping his hands in front of him stiffly. Taeyong’s eyes flicked to him and then back down to the stack of papers in front of him. Reading glasses perched on his

nose where he’d eyed the scribbles and curved writing on the paper that oddly resembled a map. With a simple flick of his hand, Jaemin’s stomach dropped to his toes, scrambling for the door anxiously, throwing it open and hurriedly bounding into the hall. He didn’t realize until he got there, that his chest felt odd. A dull aching feeling that he faintly recalled from his earlier years. As the door slammed behind him, he pressed his back against the wall, breathing out a long sigh of relief before staggering his way back down the hall, heading to the staircase. As he trudged, it didn’t occur to him that someone was likely going to be watching his every move, sticking with him like glue, and assisting on every dumpsite to criticize whatever he’s doing wrong. It also didn’t occur to him to think about who that person would be. There were only a handful of people living in this house, that would be able to assist. And there was no likely way that Taeyong would select someone from a different house unit to come live here just so Jaemin had a partner. As he made his way back into his room, he flopped on the massive King sized bed, flawlessly made up in the perfectly organized room. Who would they send with him? It couldn’t be Donghyuck or Chenle. Both were too young and Chenle was still a probationary member. Taeyong and Doyoung were both far too busy to deal with something so miniscule. Mark wouldn’t be any better than Jaemin himself at disposing of a body. Hendery was far too busy capturing the “prey” to be of any assistance. As he ticked them off in his head, his stomach churned and his brow creased, a habit from the days when he’d once sweat. That left only two possible options. And neither of them were desirable. Nakamoto Yuta, otherwise known as Prince, or Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul, also known as the Ten of Spades. There was no lesser of two evils. No better choice. Both were equally rotten. He was trapped between a perverted asshole who had more in common with Jaemin than he’d like to admit, and a crazy, combat thirsty devil with a dark sense of humor. His goose was well and truly cooked. ~ Jaemin’s fate wasn’t revealed until later that night. An unknown number popped up on his phone and his stomach tightened. They never gave out their cellphone numbers. And only a unit knew everyone’s real names. This unknown number was most certainly his new “partner.” He hesitated in answering the call for just a moment before, letting out a sigh, he pressed the green answer key and pressed the device to his ear. “Meet me in the catacombs.” With one instruction, the call ended, and Jaemin’s heart would have been beating impossibly fast, but all he received was another dull ache that slowly got stronger. That could have been anyone. The voice was too indistinguishable. Driven by curiosity or the ferocity of receiving an order, he slid out of bed and strolled across the hardwood floor, slipping his feet into soft leather black boots that flexed with his movements. He grabbed a small jacket from his closet, not because he was cold, but because normal people would wear jackets this time of year, and headed for the door, pain in his chest intensifying as he walked down three flights of stairs and headed through the kitchen where Mark and Donghyuck stood, glowering at the nearly broken microwave. He opened the heavy black door he’d come out of earlier and slid himself onto the creaking metal steps. The door slammed behind him as he slowly made his way down the steps, invisible pulse accelerating now as he awaited to see who this impossible partner would be. As he reached the bottom, he expected to see the silhouette of someone, but was met with only the familiar musty air that tickled the back of his throat as he breathed in. His boots silently swept across the dusty concrete as trekked down the hall of the century old tomb beneath the frontfort mansion. It didn’t take him long to locate the shape of someone’s shadow bouncing off the rocky walls by the glowing torch light. As the shadow came into view, at first

he was confused. This was neither of the men he feared, but as he got closer, a shock ran down his spine, and he had half a mind to turn the other way. He’d been wrong. There was a worse one out of his two options. And he’d gotten the worse of the two. Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul stood alert in the middle of the tomb hallway, back to Jaemin as he studied the curvature featured along the ancient pebbles creating the wall. The pain in Jaemin’s chest grew less of a dull ache and now to full blown panic as his feet drew him closer, half hoping his silent footsteps would creep up on the other, giving him an advantage. There was no advantage when the Ten of Spades was involved. “Look who finally decided to show up!” his lips curved into a sinister smirk as he spun around to face the younger. Jaemin tried not to look startled, and failed miserably if the other’s laugh was anything to go by. “For a Bloodsucker, you sure do startle easily,” he cackled. Jaemin could feel his face burn in embarrassment, the stoniness of his cheeks rippling at the pressure, a side effect from not actually being able to blush. The other’s laughter quieted finally with a shake of his head, returning back to his normal posture. The Ten of Spades was a small, thin male that was often underestimated for his height. He looked like a tiny, frail boy that was no more than a damsel. Common belief was totally incorrect. He may have been a full head shorter than Jaemin, but he could take down a typical, full grown body guard with a few swift moves. In fact, he had. He was a master at fighting, always able to locate someone’s weak spots even before they knew what they were. “Are you going to stare all day? Or are we going to get started?” he asked. Jaemin shook his head. He hadn’t realized he’d been staring. “Started on what?” he asked. Ten shook his head with a dark laugh. “Romeo brought someone else back. He’s being held in the usual place,” he said. Romeo, or as everyone else knew him, Hendery, was the units drug dealer. Except his job didn’t stop there. He was also the main man to capture and bring back individuals for Jaemin, or occasionally Yuta, to feast on. Usually, it was people who couldn’t or refused to pay for their product. Rarely was it a random civilian that had simply seen too much. Ten led them further down the tunnel, down the same cobblestone stairs he’d seen dozens of times and down into the creeping darkness that would lead to the dungeons. The brass cage door came into Jaemin’s view first, before his eyes landed on a male of about 30 or so, overweight, in ripped, bagging clothes with a trail of blood dripping down his arm. “Help me… please,” he muttered hoarsely, brown eyes filled with hope. Ten stared at him, features turning soft as he gently reached a hand in to grasp the man’s hand. Jaemin could hear the man’s heartbeat slowing as he calmed, relaxing as he finally had someone to rescue him. Or so he thought. Sharp nails dug into the chubby skin of the males arm, drawing blood to the surface in the tight grip, the male crying out at the pain as Ten’s sweet smile turned wicked. “Only death with help you now,” he hissed. Jaemin felt the familiar gnawing in the pit of his stomach as the back of his throat burned in thirst. Ten turned to look at him, giving him a wink before opening the cage door. Jaemin threw off the jacket he’d been wearing, having no desire to get stains on it. He crouched down low enough to step through the door, eyes meeting the flesh of the male before traveling up to his eyes. He was terrified. Jaemin’s eyes flashed bright red as he moved closer until he was crouched right beside the male, the delicious smell of warm blood filling his nostrils, making his stomach groan in want. “Type O. My favorite,” his voice came out as a raspy hiss. The male trembled in fright as Jaemin moved closer, placing his now parted lips on the males neck, two sharp teeth piercing the tender flesh, shooting straight into his artery. A loud, bellowing scream ripped from the males lips as he writhed and

struggled, held down by Jaemin’s iron grip as the hungry male swiftly guzzled his meal. ~ Jaemin wiped his mouth on his arm, letting the lifeless body drop to the floor as he stood up and turned around to find Ten staring at him. “Did you even leave a drop?” he asked, voice laced with humor. Jaemin shrugged in response and easily lifted the drained male, throwing the body over his shoulder and stepping out of the cage. “So are we going to go dump this thing now?” he asked. Ten gave a little chuckle somewhere between a squeak and a bellow, and nodded. “Sure, let’s go.” With that, the two made their way back up the tunnel hall they’d strolled down. “So when you drink from Haechan or Mark, what stops you from draining them like you did him?” Ten asked. Jaemin shot him a look. Since when did they have casual conversation? “Um… Well Yuta is usually there if I go too far. Not to mention, they’re some of my best friends. I keep that in mind and only drink a bit,” he said. Ten gave a humph and led them to the end of the hallway, to another black metal door. He pushed it open and stepped out first, holding the door open for the younger. When Jaemin stepped out, he was met with the blackness of the night in a back alley between the local Chinese restaurant and the Japanese manga store. Both owned and operated by members of their unit. “Now, if I weren’t with you, where would you put the body?” Ten asked. Jaemin looked around as he thought. “Maybe on 6th?” he asked, pointing with his free hand in that general direction. Ten clicked his tongue in disapproval. “And then you’re leaving bread crumbs for those stupid cops to follow,” he proclaimed. Jaemin looked down in embarrassment. He didn’t mind the killing. He didn’t mind the torture he knew some of the captives endured. He didn’t mind sleeping over an old tomb. He didn’t even mind disposing of the bodies. He just wasn’t good at it. “Come with me.” Jaemin didn’t object. He swiftly followed behind the lithe form of the smaller male, gracefully walking without a sound. “Now since you’ve been leaving bread crumbs, where do think would be the most obsolete place to dump the body without leaving a trail?” he asked. Jaemin had no idea. Up until that afternoon, he was led to believe that everything was fine with his technique, and now everything was skewed. “How about somewhere near the police station?” Ten said, a wicked glint in his eyes. Jaemin’s eyes widened. “That’s too dangerous!” he gaped. Ten shook his head and began leading the way in the opposite direction, careful to stay in the shadows of the alleys so as not to draw any attention to the boys carrying a large body. The police station was three streets over and would almost certainly be crawling with night guards, although most of them were usually alert until about 2 am. Then they’d be snoozing when they thought no one was watching or lurking. This time of night though, they’d all be wide awake, at least for another hour. And Ten seemed to think that that made the job exciting. One thing was for sure, though, Jaemin did not find this exciting. Not even a little bit. When they finally reached the back alley across the street from the police station, Jaemin could practically feel the nerves crawling over his skin. “Why do we have to do this?” he asked, voice trembling. Ten rolled his eyes and shoved Jaemin slightly, making the younger glare at him. “Relax! It’s not like we’re marching him up the steps of the station. We’re dropping him in the dumpster!” Jaemin’s eyes zeroed in on the dumpster. It was right near the entrance of the alley. Barely concealed by the shadows of the alley and the night. “No! I can’t do it!” Ten huffed and pushed Jaemin forward. “Throw it in the dumpster and run if you’re that scared!” he whispered sternly. Jaemin found his footing quickly and crept forward. He didn’t like this, but Ten would never let it go if he didn’t do this. Not to mention what Doyoung or Taeyong would do to him if he couldn’t succeed. As he got closer, he could feel the hairs on the back

of his neck stand up. He kept his eyes trained on the police station, hoping no one would see him creeping around in the dark. Taking cautious steps, he slowly raised the metal lid. Once it was open wide enough, he used all of his strength to maneuver the body off of his shoulder and down into the metal bin. As soon as the body hit the trash below, he let the lid fall, wincing as it gave a loud clang, no doubt getting the attention of all of the officers roaming the street. He wasted no more time and turned back toward the direction they’d come from and bolted as fast as his legs would carry him, not even caring if Ten could keep up or not. Jaemin let out a small groan as the phone near his head continuously buzzed, demanding attention. He rolled over, swatting around the mattress and sheets before finding the phone, answering the call without bothering to look at the caller id. It was probably an unknown number anyways. To his surprise, a familiar voice greeted him on the other side, causing him to shoot up in the bed. “Renjun?!” he asked in complete disbelief at hearing from his high school best friend again after three years. “Hey Nana, how are you?” he asked. Jaemin felt his insides turn mushy at the voice. “I’m good Renjunnie! How are you?” He heard a small laugh on the other side of the speaker. “I’m wondering if you will meet me in an hour at our favorite coffee shop. I miss you,” he said. Jaemin felt the same dull ache as the night before fill him, but this time, it was pleasant. “Ok! I’ll see you soon!” With that, the two hung up. A smile stitched itself across Jaemin’s face as he toppled out of bed, excited jitters flowing off of him as he pulled open various doors, pulling out a pair of jeans and a nice green shirt for this outing. He slid into a pair of black Vans and was out the door as soon as he could be. He bounded down the stairs with such an excited energy he was practically radiating it. “What’s got you so jittery this morning?” Donghyuck asked as Jaemin pranced into the kitchen. Jaemin couldn’t fight the smile on his face. “Renjunnie called! I’m going to meet him at the cafe!” he cheered. Donghyuck’s amused face fell. “But you haven’t seen him since… you know… the change,” he said, gesturing with his hands. Jaemin’s face fell. He hadn’t thought about that. Both boys had gone to high school together, along with Donghyuck, Mark and Chenle amongst others. Renjun and Jaemin had been stuck together practically all through high school. They never did anything unless the other was close behind. Both made good grades and stayed out of the limelight as much as possible. Keeping their heads down and never getting into trouble. After high school, Renjun had gone off to school and Jaemin had stayed behind, unable to afford the luxuries of further schooling. He was happy in the mafia. Happy with how his life had turned out. He had food and friends and shelter. But then there was the minor complication of his… new self. The one Renjun didn’t know and most likely wouldn’t approve of. Just like everyone else. Jaemin took a deep, unneeded breath and shrugged. “I don’t care,” he said coolly, strolling out the door. Upon arriving at the cafe, he strolled inside, hoping to seem as nonchalant as he possibly could. He spotted Renjun sitting at a booth near the back, dressed perfectly professionally in a tan button down shirt and tan pants that looked eerily familiar. Jaemin was gleeful as he got closer, plopping down in the booth across from his friend and giving him a wide smile that Renjun returned. “I ordered your favorite!” Renjun beamed. Jaemin’s face fell. How was he supposed to explain that his high school best friend that he no longer drank the coffee he drank every day for four years? How would the male ever understand without knowing the truth? Maybe this was a bad idea. “I um… I actually don’t drink coffee anymore,” he muttered. Renjun gave him a questioning look, a cover for the slight hurt that crossed his features. He’d tried to wash it away but Jaemin could still see

it. Well that came out of nowhere. “Um… just down the street. I have a few roommates,” he said, not telling a complete lie. Renjun nodded and hummed as he tapped his fingers on the table. “What have you been up to since high school?” he asked. Jaemin shifted uncomfortably in his seat. It wasn’t like Renjun to ask him questions like that. “Well, I’ve had a few jobs here and there,” he said. Renjun nodded and tapped on the plastic coffee in front of him. “What about you? What have you been doing since high school?” Jaemin asked. Renjun gave him an inquisitive look, glancing down at his own attire as if it should have been obvious. And it was. If Jaemin had been paying attention. The badge on his shirt was a dead giveaway, and Jaemin hadn’t seen it. “Oh… I see… That’s awesome!” he exclaimed with fake enthusiasm. “Actually, my job is why I wanted to meet with you,” he began. The pain in Jaemin’s chest intensified. Why else would he want to talk to him as a police officer if he hadn’t done anything wrong. Suddenly flashes of the night before filled his mind. What if they’d seen him? It was dark, but what if they’d seen him throw away the body? “We found a body in a trash bin last night. Probably 30 or so.” Here it comes! Renjun would surely be crucified now! “Whoever is doing this apparently is a vampire, judging by the saliva we’ve gotten off the bodies.” He froze in his seat. They had his saliva! “This person seems to have a thing for young people. So please, try to be careful. I don’t want to find my high school crush in the trash.” A load removed itself from Jaemin’s chest. They didn’t know it was him. But they would have to be more careful. Wait. Did he just say- “You had a crush on me?” A blush found its way up to Renjun’s cheeks, the once sturdy male now looking like the shy boy Jaemin remembered from early high school. [C] “Had is a little untrue… I have a crush on you,” he said, muttering the last bit. Jaemin’s eyes widened. All this time he’d been pining after Renjun, and now, he finds out after the horrible accident that Renjun had been pining after him too! “I kinda still have a crush on you too…” he said. Had he had the ability, he would have been blushing too. Renjun’s eyes lit up. “So maybe you’d like to go on a date sometime?” Renjun asked. Jaemin looked around the restaurant, eyebrows creasing. “Aren’t we on a date right now?” he asked. Renjun grinned. “If we were, I certainly wouldn’t be in my work clothes. And we’d be doing something a little classier than getting coffee.” Jaemin fiddled with his thumbs beneath the table, a shy smile worked its way onto his lips. “You’ve changed a lot, you know,” Renjun commented. Jaemin glanced up at at Renjun. “What do you mean? I haven’t changed.” The male across from him let out a sound somewhere between a grunt and a laugh. “A few years ago, if I had said a comment like that, your face would have been as red as a tomato.” So Renjun did remember. And if he wasn’t careful, the male would piece together just how different he was. Once Jaemin opened the big heavy door from the tunnels into the house, he was almost immediately bombarded by questions. “Why would you go out like that?!” “What did you do?!” “Does he know anything?!” “Why the meeting?!” Jaemin brushed them off as best he could, opting to walk past the questions and out of the kitchen, until of course, a small, but firm arm grabbed his elbow, tugging him back into the kitchen. “Jaemin’s friend is a cop,” Ten’s voice snarled. Jaemin’s knees locked in shock and surprise. “How do you-?” “I followed you. Now I understand why you didn’t want to dump the body near the station! You didn’t want your boyfriend to see you!” Jaemin shook his head rapidly. “No! I didn’t even know-” “Maybe Jaemin’s working for them!” Jaemin’s body shook. Why would anyone accuse him for that?! Let alone, Chenle! “No! I swear!” “Get out Jaemin.” Doyoung’s voice was snarled and low. A voice he was used to hearing, but never directed at him. His feet moved on their own, head ducked low,

feet shuffling up the stairs to his room to await whatever doom was being decided upon him. Something like this had happened only once before. Jaemin had been in the vampire transition then to fully comprehend and understand what was going on. He did remember Yuta though. Bent over the trembling body of a male in their colors. Vaguely, he remembered the name. Taeil maybe? He’d obviously been someone special to Yuta. He’d never been the same since. That changed him into a ruthless, bloodthirsty killer. The door to his room flew open. Surely they hadn’t decided his fate already! It’d only been a few minutes! But when Jaemin caught Yuta’s eyes, he knew what he’d be forced to do. And it shattered him. Yuta’s arms locked around Jaemin, holding the younger in front of him as he was shoved through the dark catacombs, feet never making a sound. Jaemin struggled, a feeble attempt at getting away. And had it been anyone else, he would have succeeded. He and Yuta shared far too much in common. “You shouldn’t have gone. Then this wouldn’t have happened. But you are a fool,” Yuta hissed in his ear. If Jaemin possessed the ability to cry, he would be bawling. Instead, he was stuck, hands trembling, mind reeling, stomach hardening. Yuta shoved him through the familiar room with the cages. A room he visited almost on a nightly basis for his meals. Usually, the room had no affect on him. If he was particularly thirsty, this room brought him great joy. Now, all he felt was fear and hate. Renjun’s body was bruised badly. His arm was bent back in a way no arm should ever be. His left eye was blackening and puffy. Jaemin had hoped that at least he’d be passed out, that this could be just a little easier. But of course, this was the mafia. Great when no one had wronged them. Ruthless when someone had. Renjun’s eyes zeroed in on Jaemin. His one good eye widening then scrunching into betrayal. “I knew you were hiding something,” he hissed. Jaemin’s eyes cast to the floor, chest tightening in pain. “Well get to it. We don’t have all day.” Taeyong’s voice came as a shock. He expected Doyoung to be here. But not their usually soft-hearted leader. The cage opened and Jaemin was shoved inside. His eyes roved over Renjun with pity, fear, and sadness. Love and pain filling his chest. “I knew there was something different. I just didn’t know you were a killer.” The words pierced Jaemin’s unbeating heart. “Please don’t make me do this,” his words were a hoarse whisper. “Pathetic,” Ten’s voice muttered, stepping forward. He reached through the cage with a pocket knife and cut a large gash on Renjun’s arm, Renjun yelped out in pain. Blood beaded down Renjun’s arm. As soon as the smell hit Jaemin’s nose, his eyes glowed the familiar red. Renjun let out a strained laugh, eyes trained on Jaemin’s. “So much for our date,” he muttered. Jaemin got closer, knelt beside the male, staring at him hungrily now. Eyes bright red as the blood wafted to his nose. “I have always loved you,” he whispered, leaning closer and pressing a kiss to Renjun’s neck. Renjun sucked in a harsh breath of air. Jaemin could hear the males heart thudding in his ears. Jaemin grazed his teeth over Renjun’s vein, his brain muddled with the sounds of Renjun’s heart. He faintly heard the quiet squeak of the cage opening. Most likely a hungry Yuta coming to help Jaemin finish the job. But Jaemin had other plans. He waited for the door to open completely, and when it did, he snapped around, finding Haechan standing at the door, wide eyed. Jaemin’s mind was too addled to coherently see Haechan. He pushed his body into the elder, sending them both barreling into the floor. “Run Renjun!” He screamed, sinking his teeth into the tender flesh of Haechan’s neck, the other letting out a loud scream, thrashing around. He heard the cage rattle as feet scurried around him, attempting to yank him off Haechan, who’s blood pooled into his mouth deliciously. He didn’t get to indulge long though. Arms wrapped around him, encasing him against a chest as fangs bore into

his own neck, ripping the flesh. “Get him out of here!” he heard Taeyong bellow somewhere close by. He assumed Doyoung and Hendery had carried Haechan out before Yuta attacked the young one too. “Shit! He got away!” Ten yelled angrily, stomping the ground before walking over and slamming his fist into Jaemin’s jaw. “You little traitor! You are not better than Yuta!” he screamed. The teeth in his neck retracted. Jaemin knew what that meant. He took one last breath, looking around the room calmly, relieved that Renjun had got away. “I can’t help that I loved him,” he whispered hoarsely. His body felt so very heavy. Venom trickled down the holes in his neck as he succumbed to the weight. Renjun perched right outside a window in the tomb. He hadn’t been able to go too far in his beaten state, but it was away, somewhere they’d never be able to get him. He watched with tearful eyes as Jaemin’s body was dropped callously to the floor, eyes wide but without movement. No breath entering his body. He watched as the body thinned, stomach sinking in on itself, ribs revealing themselves. Taking him back to the same state he’d been in before he was turned. And he realized it then. Renjun had gone to college because his parents could afford it. Jaemin’s family couldn’t afford food. He’d slowly starved to death. “Get him out of here,” the smallest of them all muttered, kicking Jaemin’s body and stomping away as the other vampire picked up the body. Renjun’s heart broke in two places. One side full of sadness and sorrow. The other full of pure hatred and anger. He would avenge Jaemin’s death. He wouldn’t stop until everyone in this Mafia house were dead.P

#nct fanfic #angst #fluff #nct dream #jaemin #renjun

4 notes · View notes

kajsa-writes-sometimes · 3 years

Text

Chp. III: The Second Letter

When the morning post came around, the clicking sound of a typewriter being used at an almost inhuman speed filled Angelina's home. Outside the world was wide-awake, and the concentrated writer let the bustling sounds of the street lul her into a world of her own.

Maybe that was why she didn't hear the knock at her door. No matter the reason, the thick, cream coloured envelope that dumbed down into the light grey letterbasket on the inside of the door went unnoticed for several hours.

Around noon she rose to her feet and stretched as far as she could reach. Her neck cracked and there came a popping sound from her right shoulder.

"I think it is just about time for lunch," she mumbled to herself as she looked at the pile of papers that lay neatly stacked next to her typewriter. "This is as good a time as any and let's face it, you are not going to run off in my absence."

Had anyone been around to hear her, they might have found it rather odd that she talked to no one in particular - and even more odd that she sometimes led entire conversations with her characters or herself. But no one was around to listen and as long as she did not expect an answer, Angelina really didn't have any concerns about her sanity.

Trudging over to the corner that substituted for the kitchen, she found a plate and placed half the pie Amanda had insisted she bring home back in the bag. She would eat half a pie now and half a pie at dinner, and then she would buy groceries on her way back from the newspaper tomorrow. There was, afterall, a pile of letters with her name on it, and she had a week's worth of columns she had to turn in.

With the plate in one hand and a fork with bent teeth in the other, she turned around to walk back to the table. Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of something laying in her letter basket, and then she bent over slightly to place the plate next to the half finished first draft of her newest novel. Grabbing the chair, she was about to move it half a foot to the right so she wouldn't risk spilling pie on the pages– and then she froze.

Turning her head her eyes landed on the cream coloured envelope that awaited her attention. Her blood ran cold at the sight of it. As she walked over and lifted it from the basket, she debated what she dreaded most: A threat of ruining her career, or the possibility that he would stick to insulting her in the privacy of their correspondence.

How many letters did it even take for one to call it a correspondence? This was the second letter she received and counting her own reply that made up a correspondence of three letters.

Whatever the Duke had written to tell her, the sheer thickness of the envelope told her it would not be a short letter. It was almost as thick as her pinky, but if he wrote on the same paper he had used the last time, it was probably only half the pages it would have taken her to get the same volume.

She carefully slid the letter open. She flipped through the pages before she started to read.

"How many pages does one need?" she murmured as she leaned back on the chair and stretched her feet out in front of her. "He might as well have sent me a novel. Now let's see– where to start…"

She found the first page and began reading.

Dear Miss Ravenloft,

Let me begin by putting your mind at ease. Your letter was as delicately formulated as your novels, and I dare say that only a brute would be offended by what you wrote on those pages. Hopefully this short paragraph has given you one less burden to bear, and I hope that by the end of this letter you will let me lift more than this one burden from your shoulders.

Reading over your reply I realise, my first letter must have been unclear on several accounts. Please forgive me, Miss Ravenloft, for the misunderstanding and the confusion my first letter created. I will take it as a testimony to why you are the writer and I, a mere admirer of your work!

On the following pages I will try to clear up any misunderstandings created by my last letter, and then I will try to calm your mind on the matter of the not entirely unrelated business you mentioned in your reply to my aforementioned letter.

You wrote that you do not feel deserving of the support I offered you — and I want to empathize that the support I'm offering is in no way restricted to financial aid — if all I got out of it was the measly pages of your books.

This is not true. Your books are by no known standard measly, as you like to call them. I enjoy your writings to such an extent that I have copies of them in my library both at my land estate, my champers at Hemwick University, and in my London residence.

Angelina stopped reading to do the math. If he had bought three copies of her previous publications that would mean he was responsible for– that couldn't be right! She did the math over in her head, but she did not get a different number.

"I'm just going to ignore how much of my revenue that adds up to," she mumbled. Before she picked up the letter once more, she stuck a piece of pie in her mouth and started chewing.

If my word is not enough to convince you that I would be satisfied to support you knowing that it would help you continue to write then this story must surely convince you. If you are still hesitant to accept my offer without doing anything in return, I will make you a second proposal: Continue to write your stories and let me read the novels when they are published. Apart from this I will ask you to spend a week with me in London in the summer, and a week at my land estate in the winter. On top of this you will agree to meet with me when I stay at Hemwick University. All of this will naturally take place under the supervision of a chaperone of your own choosing– it could be a lady friend of yours, one of your relatives, or maybe a young woman from my household staff.

I think we can agree that this arrangement will solve the problem of you not working hard enough to earn your keep. If there is something about my proposal, you find unsuitable or that you fear will reflect badly on your reputation, please let me know in your reply so that we can change the offending detail to your liking.

I will — in one of my coming letters — attach a list of possible dates for your first visit at my London estate. I know there is a little more than four months until the start of the season, but I will need to inform my staff that two extra rooms will have to be prepared for your arrival.

Now, before you start arguing about the amount I offered in my first letter, I will not budge. Before reaching out to you, I consulted my sources — in whom I have the greatest trust — who let me know how much a respectable pensionate costs nowadays. I know the amount I offered is somewhat higher than this amount, but I doubt you are able to live off of your words alone and surely you need money to spend on both paper and ink to create your stories.

If you have any concerns about whether or not the agreed amount will be enough to cover your expenses, you should write to me immediately. The same should be the case if you find yourself in need of covering unplanned expenses. I will set up a bank account in a bank of your liking once I receive your reply to this letter. If you have no preferred bank, I will set up an account for you in my preferred branch.

This part of the letter took far longer to write than anticipated so I shall try and make the following as short as possible.

I have reached out to some associates of mine who know the industry. They have let me know that there is a pall of scepticism when it comes to your work, but they do not see it as an impossible task to get your next novel published through a “publisher in the Empire” as you formulated it in your letter. It might take some convincing, but my associates assure me that it is nothing a well formulated letter will not fix. My associates have collected a list of publishers they feel would be possible to persuade. I considered sending it along, but I feel it is better we discuss it face to face so that you can have some influence on the discussion with a publisher of your choice.

I hope this letter has put your mind to ease and answered some of the misunderstandings and uncertainties left behind by my first letter to you. Please take your time to consider these new additions to our agreement and if necessary write for clarification.

I will be awaiting your reply,

Northern Hemwick

As she reached the end of the letter, Angelina resorted to stare blankly out the window. It wasn’t much she could see, but the soot covered, yellow bricks of the opposing building, and her eyes registered even less. She had been convinced, her letter had been easy enough to understand, but the rejection of the Duke’s offer to become her patron had apparently gone unnoticed– or at the least ignored.

“No, I can not handle this today,” she said as she stood. “I will send a note to Jean and get his opinion on the matter.”

She placed her empty plate and the fork on the stove. Still standing she grabbed a pen and scribbled a short note on a discarded piece of paper that she promptly stuck into an envelope. The door smacked close behind her as she went out to find someone who could deliver her message to Jean.

“If things continue like this, I won’t have to worry about a publisher; I will never get the chance to finish writing my story!”

A/N: I really enjoyed writing this chapter, and I hope you enjoyed it half as much as I did. Please let me know by leaving a note, a like, or by reblogging this chapter - I'm grateful for all appreciation that comes my way

The entire story can be found on Wattpad or by following the links in this master post

#the true story of a poor writer and her unwanted patron #wip #write #writblr #writlr #writeblr #writing #kajsa writes #my writings #my writing #novel wip #original fiction #historical fiction #slow love #slow burn

1 note · View note

all-things-skam · 4 years

Note

Sander and Robbe cute date pleaaaaseeee

Title: First date, take two

Ship: Wtfock | Robbe Ijzerman + Sander Driesen (Sobbe)

_______________

Life had been intense and frenzied these past weeks, but they had made it through. Sander was doing better, finally getting out of bed and back to his old energetic self. It had been difficult, but with Robbe by his side, it was easier to see the light at the end of the dark tunnel.

Things were getting brighter for Robbe, too. He wasn't feeling as paranoid anymore when going outside past 10pm, finally capable to hold Sander's hand in the bus or less crowded streets.

''My mom is coming home next week.''

Sander's eyes snapped up from the menu, grinned at his boyfriend. ''Is she?'' he asked excitedly.

Robbe's mother was still a soft subject to talk about, a fresh scar on his heart, but Sander never forced Robbe to say more than he wanted to. Every time Robbe bringed her up, Sander would listen and try to be there for him, help with the best of his abilities. Even it it meant being his shoulder to cry on.

Robbe nodded, a smile curving on his lips. ''Yeah. The doctor said she was doing good enough to come home. She'll have to see her therapist twice a week, but at least she’ll get out of that place''

''That's good. Just in time for Christmas. I’m so happy for you two''

The holiday music suddenly felt louder and more present inside the café, causing a nervous knot to form in Robbe's stomach.

Christmas was Robbe's mom's favorite holiday. She loved Christmas. She loved decorating the house with colorful, bright lights, the Christmas carols, putting tons of baubles and ornaments on their tree. Everything. She wasn't the greatest cook, but she'd put all her love and heart into the Christmas dinner - which didn't turn out that bad as long as she followed the recipe.

The past two Christmases hadn't been the greatest for the Ijzermans. With Robbe's mom's mental health going downhill, the holiday had gone under the rug. No tree, no presents and no Christmas dinner. To top it off, Robbe's dad, selfish as always, had even skipped last Christmas, claiming he had a work emergency at his office - a new code for his new girlfriend.

This year, Robbe had vowed to himself to give his mom a better Christmas. And, since the holiday season was about family and love, why not take a step forward into his and Sander's relationship?

''About that...'' Robbe scratched the collar of his neckline, preparing himself for his grand request. ''This year is going to be a quiet Christmas - just my Mom and I. So, I was wondering if you'd like to join us for dinner on the 24th? Nothing fancy, just me and my mom… and the brand-new Christmas tree.'' He let out a nervous chuckle.

It was the first time Robbe wanted to introduce someone - other than Jens - to his mom and it made him nervous to the core. When Sander met his dad, it didn't go well, and Robbe was hoping it wouldn’t be the same with his mom. He could feel his heart wanting to break at the thought of the two of them, the people he loved the most in this world, not getting along.

Eyebrows pulled, Sander stared at Robbe, uncertain. ''You want me to meet your mom?''

''Yes. If you don't want to, that's okay. I don't want you to feel compelled to meet her. Am I going too fast? Maybe it's too soon? I haven't even met your parents yet-''

''Robbe,'' Sander stopped him. He reached to grab Robbe's hands over the table, holding them in his. ''I'd love to meet your mom.''

Blinking, warmth filled the brunet's heart, eyes sparkling with joy. ''For real?''

Sander nodded, his soft chuckle filling the air between them. ''Yes, for real. I'd be honoured to meet her.''

It was their first date since they had gotten back together, and it felt good to go out again, just the two of them. No more Milan walking in without knocking nor Zoe playing the big sister and making sure everyone had eaten at least one healthy meal a day. Their intentions were kind, but Robbe missed spending time alone with Sander.

A waitress came over, taking their orders - just deserts for tonight - and left with a promise to return soon with their plates.

Robbe learned that it was a Sander thing to not follow the rules or do things conventionally. Like getting him naked before their first kiss. Or calling Robbe the love of his life without having taken a proper look to each other before.

While they waited for their food, Sander flipped his paper placemat and started sketching with the stray pen he had found in his pocket. Robbe told him about his day, Aaron's latest flirting fail with Amber making them both laugh.

Sander couldn't believe he was there with Robbe, that he had gained his heart - again. It felt unreal. The last time they were in that café, Robbe had been so cold to him, which was understandable - he had fucked up really bad by kissing Britt. It was the biggest mistake he had made in his life, and he swore to himself to never take Robbe for granted again. He might've given him a second chance, but Sander doubted there would be a third one.

Concentrated on his art piece, Sander almost forgot about their order, snapping out of his artistic bubble when he felt something sticky on his face. He looked up from the paper placemat and caught Robbe's mischievous smile, a chocolate covered finger right in front of his lips, about to make the evidence of the crime disappear.

''Robbe!''

''Food's here,'' the latter announced innocently, licking his finger clean.

Sander put his pen down and reached for a napkin on the table to wipe his cheek. ''Yeah, I felt it.''

Robbe grinned, amused, diving his fork into his cake.

Despite his grown up facade, Robbe was such a child inside - especially once you get to know him. He’s usually so shy around others, self conscious about being a bother or annoying, but with Sander he let free all sides of his personality.

Including his childish side.

They ate their sweet treat quietly, stealing touches and flirty glances in the corner of the café, starting slow with the public display of affection. Between bites, Sander tried to lean over the table for a kiss, but Robbe pulled back, letting him kiss his hand instead.

Small steps.

''Can I see?'' Robbe asked, nodding at the drawing, black pen forgotten by his drink.

Sander hummed, swallowing his bite, and turned the paper placemat in Robbe's direction, revealing his quick art piece. It wasn't an elaborated sketch like the other ones, just some rough scribbles of Robbe's features.

Robbe smiled, always amazed by his boyfriend’s skills. ''At this rhythm, I won't have room on my walls to put them,’’ he teased.

''You could give this one to your mom? As a prelude for the dinner,'' Sander suggested, cocking an eyebrow. He bit his lip and shrugged. ‘’It’s not a chef d’oeuvre, but I could draw the two of you on Christmas dinner? I can bring my art supplies and make it really good so your mom can hang it up or something.’’

The only family pictures they have in the house were taken years ago with baby Robbe and his dad. After everything that happened, it would be nice to have an updated version of their family. Or, what was left of it.

And, not to brag, but Sander was really skilled with his hands. Artistically. So, there was no doubt that his mom would love it.

Robbe nodded in approval. ‘’I think she’d like that.’’

‘’If she’s anything like her son, she’ll be mind blown by my drawings.’’ Sander laughed nervously, trying to hide his anxiety that formed at the officialisation of meeting Robbe’s mom. ‘’Some bring flowers and wine, I make drawings.’’

‘’She’ll love it. Better than flowers,’’ the brunet assured.

Sander’s lips turned up into a crooked grin. ''Flowers are ephemeral. Drawings lasts forever...like us.'' He winked at Robbe who scrunched his face, cringing at the cheesiness.

#wtfock #robbe ijzermans #sander driesen #sobbe #sobbe fic #rosander #rosander fic

116 notes · View notes

duker42 · 5 years

Text

💜Cure for Insomnia💜 Part 1 of 2 Levi x Reader

💜Cure for Insomnia💜 Part 1 of 2

(Y/N) POV:

I straighten my uniform and knock sharply at the office door in front of me.

“State your name and business.” A voice replies from inside.

“Cadet (Y/N) sir! You sent for me!” I announce.

I hear footsteps and the door opens to reveal the Commander. He smiles at me and gestures for me to come inside. “Ah (Y/N), please sit!”

I nervously look around his office. Erwin never meets with the Cadets, Captain Levi is the one that usually handles us, unless we are in real trouble.

“So, I imagine you are wondering why I called you in Cadet?” Erwin starts pleasantly.

“Yes sir! I mean, I hope I didn’t do anything to disgrace the Corps sir!” I reply.

Erwin waves off my concerns, “No, nothing like that. I’ve called you in here because I actually need a favor from you (Y/N).” My curiosity is now peaked. “I’ve been going over the Personnel Files, and I see that before you joined, you worked as a sleep specialist in Wall Sina. Is that accurate?”

“Yes sir, I was an apprentice under Dr. Young for two years before I started seeing patients on my own.” I informed him.

“I see, may I ask, why did you give up that path to choose the military? You are much older than the average Cadet. More specifically, why did you choose the Survey Corps?” He throws me a confused look.

Breaking eye contact, I look down at my hands as tears form in my eyes, remember that horrible day. “Commander, while I was living in Wall Sina, I wasn’t yet able to afford for my parents to join me yet. They lived in Shiganshina....I was visiting them that day.”

“You don’t need to explain any further, Cadet.” His expression softens. “I will however tell you, that we are very fortunate to have you with us. It brings me to my request. As I’m sure you are aware, Captain Levi has insomnia. I would like you help him, however you can.”

I gasp. The Captain is feared throughout the Headquarters, and the Commander wants me to evaluate him? I’m gonna die!

“I know what you are thinking. I have written Levi a note, letting him know you are under orders from me. He shouldn’t give you too much resistance.” He hands me a sealed envelop. “Deliver this to his office and report in periodically. I thank you, Cadet. Dismissed.”

I walk down the hall, slowly, like a prisoner on their way to execution. I mean, the grumpy Captain’s wrath is as bad as death. Arriving at the door to his office, I take a deep breath and knock on the door with a shiny brass plate that read “Captain Levi Ackerman, Special Operations Squad”

“State your name and business.” A deep voice commands from within.

“Cadet (Y/N) sir. I have a message from Commander Erwin” I reply.

“Enter” I open the door and quickly glance around the immaculate office, before resting my gaze on the desk before me. The handsome but short raven haired man was still scribbling furiously on the paperwork before him as I march to his desk and stop, rendering him a salute.

“Tch, put your hand down. What’s this message?” The stoic man demands, finally looking up and piercing me with his hard grey eyes.

I hold out the envelope and wait while he reads the contents within, his scowl growing deeper as he gets further into the message. He turns his eyes back to me, flashing in anger.

“Sit your ass in that chair and explain what the hell this is.” His voice is deadly as he stares into my soul.

I sit down and explain my previous occupation before joining the Scouts and how Erwin just ordered me to do this.

“Well, Cadet, you are dismissed. I don’t need to be evaluated. I need to finish this paperwork.” He replies, turning his attention back to the papers in front of him.

“I’m sorry sir, I can’t do that.” I declare, staring at the floor. I look up to him watching me, “I have my orders, same as you. Like it or not, this is happening.”

He grumbles under his breath as he reevaluates me, with something like respect glistening in his cold grey eyes. He throws down his pen and sigh. “Fine, how do we do this?”

“First I need to ask you about your routines, then assess your sleeping habits. I will be able to make recommendations after that.”

“Assess my sleeping habits? You mean, watch me sleep?” He growls at the idea.

“Yes sir.”

“Fine. I do paperwork until 2-3am, check the cadets, and normally sleep in this chair for about 2.5 hours. What else do you need to know.” He demands.

I go into detail about what I need to know. Does he undress to sleep? He blushed a bit before responding no. Did he shower or bathe before sleep? Again a no. Does he drink tea before bed? Big yes, normally 4-5 cups. I blushed myself when I asked if he pleasured himself before sleep.

“What the fuck kind of question is that?” He exclaims, cheeks hot with embarrassment.

“Well, studies have show that a....ummmm....orgasm creates a sense of euphoria and relaxation, causing people to be able to fall asleep faster and sleep longer.” I stammer.

“Great, so the key to my insomnia is not jacking off enough, got it. Now can you please fuck off?” He spits out, clearly not impressed.

“That’s not what I said at all. Stop trying to make this harder. You will get some benefit from this you know.” I growl as I lean forward, my hands propped up on his desk.

“Yeah, a satisfied libido.” He smirked.

“No, asshole.” He’s face darkens when I start the name calling. “Your ‘Humanities Strongest Soldier’ right? That’s with the shitty sleep you get now. Imagine how you would be fully rested. You might have another facet to your personality other than dickhead.”

I don’t give him a chance to interject, but continue on. “Now what your going to do is go take a hot shower, or bath, and lay down in your fucking bed. We will try a massage tonight, to see if that relaxes you. As of now, no more paperwork after dinner. Erwin’s orders. And no tea either.” Now he looks really mad. “Unless it chamomile. That black tea you prefer has as much caffeine as coffee!.”

He shoots me a glare and stalks into his bedroom shouting back at me. “Do not think you are coming in this bathroom. And I’m NOT masturbating for you!” I groan as I cover my face with my hands.

5 minutes later, Levi emerged from his bedroom, fully dressed. The only indication he had showered was his damp hair. I stood and walked to him, pushing him back into the room.

“Strip.”

“Piss off.”

“Captain, I cannot let you sleep in a chair or fully clothed and I can’t test the massage theory if you have your clothes on. Now shut up and strip down to your boxers and lay down on the bed.” I state authoritatively as his eyebrows raise.

I hear him mutter under his breath about me being a pain in his ass, but he sullenly turns back and walks over to the bed, removing his clothing, down to his boxers. Flopping down onto the seldom used bed, he reminds me of a teenager, which causes me to smile.

“Well, I’m waiting (Y/N).” He says, not lifting his head from the pillow.

Nervously I pull a small bottle of Lavender oil that I carry with with me from my pocket. I get on the bed, straddling the tense man’s lower half. Spreading a small amount of the oil on my palms, I begin at his shoulders, spreading the oil down his corded back and arms. I feel his sharp breath at the contact, and see his eyes begin to close as my finger and palms start to soothe knotted muscles.

He groans as I find a particularly large knot and knead into it, releasing the pressure. He hissed as I worked another knot out of his tight shoulders, marveling secretly over the smooth warm skin, sprinkled with smalls scars, beneath my fingers. I placed my hands on either side of his spine and leaned forward, pressing my weight on him. His back cracked multiple times as he muttered “Good God.”

I work my way down to his lower back, rubbing right at the base, stroking my fingers up and down over the muscles that are hurting from hours of paperwork. I feel him begin to unwind as I finish up the massage and wipe his back down. His eyes are closed and his perpetual frown has disappeared, making him look younger and innocent. I move off of him and settle down in the chair beside his bed and wait.

Part 2

Mobile MasterList

#captain levi #snk levi #levi ackerman #shingeki no kyojin #aot fanfiction #levi aot #attack on titan #levi ackerman x reader #snk x reader #aot x reader #captain levi x reader #levi x reader

264 notes · View notes