#i encountered one for the first time with follows-chalk

[coffinwoodx]

everyone always talks about the mortifying difference between the new vegas deathclaws and the fo4 deathclaws, BUT NOBODY TALKS ENOUGH ABOUT THE YAO GUAIS

WHAT IS THAT. LOOK AT THE DIFFERENCE.

why is everything so much more terrifying in new vegas 😭😭

#i encountered one for the first time with follows-chalk #had me crying #fallout #fallout new vegas #fallout 4 #fo4 #fnv #fallout 3 #fo3 #follows chalk #new vegas #yao guai #deathclaw #happy trails #honest hearts #joshua graham

[sara-scribbles]

The Prince's Tutor

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Leona Kingscholar/GN!Reader Summary: You're hired as Cheka's personal tutor. While working, you get to know the second prince, Leona. Notes: Just something I've had partially written and wanted to finish. I guess this would be in line with my royalty AU I did with Malleus. This also exhausts the list of actually royal characters from the game (does Idia count?). Might have some errors here and there that I missed, sorry in advance! Hope you enjoy all of Cheka's cuteness! Word Count: 9,064 Warnings: Attempted kidnapping, violence, some swearing, Cheka being adorable

As much as Leona wants to ignore his nephew, he can’t turn a blind eye to the fact that a stranger is leading Cheka out of the palace. The naive brat follows without thought as he excitedly chatters. A person he’s never seen before, leads the kid by the hand while nodding enthusiastically.

“Hey!” His voice echoes in the hallways.

Cheka looks around before a smile stretches across his face. “Unca Leona!” The cub lets go of the stranger’s hand to launch himself at Leona.

Grunting as the pint sized twerp barrels into him, he pulls him off immediately by holding him by the back of his shirt and unceremoniously dropping him on the ground. “Where do you think you're goin’, brat?”

“Teacher (Y/N) is taking me to the detached wing for lessons!” The boy isn’t bothered by the rough treatment as he springs back onto his feet.

You offer Leona a tentative smile, which he does not return. “Teacher? You’re the new brat’s tutor?” He sizes you up and isn’t impressed. You're a herbivore for one thing.

Nodding, you bow politely. “Yes. I was recommended by Cheka’s old tutor.”

Though you have no reason to lie, Leona isn’t completely convinced. You look green with the enthusiastic glimmer in your eyes. However, he decides to let it be. It isn’t in his nature to pursue further than needed. As long as it doesn’t seem that you’ll be kidnapping the furball, Leona’s fine. 

Waving you off, he turns around to head to his room. “Ya whatever you say.”

---

“Who was that?” you ask Cheka.

“That’s unca Leona! He’s the bestest unca!” the boy explains. His eyes sparkle with joy, and you can’t help but smile back.

You had heard of the royal family, though you hadn’t had much time to study the lineage before arriving. Seeing the beastman glare at you was a first. Cheka’s father was very welcoming and open when you met him briefly. You chalk it up as everyone having their own personalities and quickly forget the encounter. No use worrying about things that are none of your business.

Arriving at the detached wing of the palace, you enter the large library. Once you have Cheka settled, you start on the first lesson. “We’ll be learning about the history of magic. Let’s start with how magic first came to be…”

---

Later in the day, Leona happens upon you again. This time, you’re talking with his brother, or at least trying to. Farena’s too distracted with Cheka to really pay you any mind, and the expression on your face shows your growing irritation.

Leona tries to slink away without being noticed, but the fuzzball immediately catches him. It’s like his nephew can sense him from miles away. “Unca Leona!”

Hopping down from his father’s hold, Cheka runs up to him and wraps his short arms around his leg. “Let go,” Leona grunts through gritted teeth.

Cheka beams up at him as he clings on. “Today I learned about the history of magic! Did you know that magic existed a long, long time ago?!”

Rubbing his temples, he sighs, “Yes. Now, get off, brat.”

“Leona!” Farena comes over and claps him heartily on the back. “Have you met, (Y/N)?”

You give him another polite smile though he sees the way the corner of your mouth twitches downward. You’re gripping a stack of papers tight enough to wrinkle them. 

He scoffs and shrugs off his brother’s hold. “Yes. Tell your son to let go of my leg.”

Farena chuckles. “He just misses his uncle!”

Coughing, you interject. “Your highness I-”

“Please call me Farena. I insist!” he interrupts, giving you a blinding smile.

Lips pressing into a thin line, you look put out. “Your highness, I do need to go over the rest of the curriculum with you. I’d like to know if you think these will be suitable for your son.”

Waving you off, his brother takes the stack of papers you hold out. “Alright, alright. I’ll look at these later tonight and let you know tomorrow.”

Sighing, you bow. “Thank you, your highness. If you’ll excuse me, I still have to finish settling in.” You give them both one last bow before making a hasty retreat.

Scratching his ear, Leona watches as you disappear. “Where’d you find this one?” he asks, a bit interested as you don’t seem dazzled by his brother like everyone else. He wonders how long that will last.

“(Y/N) comes from the Queendom of Roses. And came with high praise from many teachers and scholars.” Farena glances down at the documents. “It seems they are very meticulous.”

During the conversation, Cheka had released Leona’s leg. Climbing onto his father’s back, the boy hangs there while peeping at the documents. “What does that say, papa?”

Farena chortles, “It says a lot of work for papa tonight. I’ll see you later, brother!” Leona is finally left in peace. There’s not much to do, though. It’s not like anyone expects anything of him.

He decides to find a place to nap. Like always.

---

A few days pass since that encounter, when Leona bumps into you again. Quite literally this time.

Papers fly in the air like snow. “Aaach!” You fall back on your butt with a thump before giving him a withering look. 

Leona stands there above you as the papers fall to the ground. He didn’t even move back an inch when you bumped into him. “Ya goin’ somewhere, herbivore?” he asks, amusement coloring his tone. Guess non-beastmen are all weak if a little bump sends you tumbling to the ground.

“...” You don’t bother to respond as you gather your scattered documents. 

Picking up one that landed on his foot, Leona quickly scans it. “Is this the brat’s curriculum?”

“Yes. I made some edits since your brother thought the last one was too much for Cheka,” you reply. He catches the frown that quickly fades into a neutral expression.

From the looks of the one sheet, you plan to teach Cheka basic magic and runes. Something most kids his age would not be learning until a few years later. “He might be right.” Knowing Cheka, the little furball will quickly lose interest.

Huffing, you snatch the paper out of his hand. “I believe he can do it. He showed great interest in the history of magic and learning fundamentals during our first session. He just needs to be engaged.”

“And how do ya plan to engage a six year old?” The boy has too much energy for Leona’s taste. Even Cheka’s old tutor had a hard time keeping him on track. He liked to ask too many questions that would quickly spiral out of control.

For the first time that day, you grin. “I have my ways, your highness.”

His ears twitch. “Hmm… Have fun with the twerp.” He walks past you without another glance.

---

“Now I want you to visualize the broccoli,” you tell Cheka. The young boy stares at the plate with the single broccoli you placed in front of him. “They look like small trees, don’t they?”

Cheka nods. “Yeah! They’re like small green trees!”

“Right! So imagine reaching forward and plucking this small tree from the plate.” You watch as the boy’s brows furrow deeply. His golden gaze is focused on the broccoli. Finally, he slumps forward.

“Nothing happened…” he pouts.

Ruffling his hair, you gently encourage him, “Don’t worry, Cheka. These things take time. You’ll get it soon!”

Though he smiles back at you, you notice it isn’t as bright. “Alright. Let’s do something else.” Clapping your hands together, you rummage through the trunk of things you had brought from home. “We’re going to do a reenactment of a myth”

“Reenactment?” Cheka pops the broccoli in his mouth without you noticing.

You hand over a few props. “It means we’ll be putting on a play pretending to be the characters of the story.”

“Papa and I play pretend all the time!” Excitement shines in his eyes as he takes the offered clothes.

Beaming, you put on a hat. “Then you’ll be a pro at this!”

Unbeknownst to you, a certain lion is sitting further in the back of the library on a windowsill. He chuckles as he listens to you start the story.

---

“So you like chess?” Your voice interrupts his thought process. A little annoyed to be disturbed, he gives you a glare but it doesn’t phase you.

“And so what if I do?” He should have played in his room in peace. But it’s being cleaned at the moment, so he had to find a different place away from others. Hence being in the library you use for Cheka’s lessons.

Shrugging, you tap the queen. “I learned a bit but never could actually grasp the game. It takes a lot of skill and foresight to be good. I don’t know much but looking at the board, I’m assuming you're a pro. That’s amazing.”

A compliment is not something he expected to hear from you. Nor is it something he’s heard in a long time. “The thing about chess is that you can play it alone. You don’t need anyone else,” he mutters.

Moving away, you bow. “Sorry to disturb you, your highness.” 

You turn to leave, but he stops you. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t like a match…”

Your eyes widen a fraction as he notes a small smile form on your face. “I don’t think I’ll be much of a challenge.”

He shrugs and gestures to the chair opposite. You sit down as he places the pieces back to their starting positions. “Take it as a chance to learn from a master.”

“A very humble master,” you tease before focusing on the board.

And true to your word, you aren’t much of a challenge. He manages to beat you in five moves. Despite losing so quickly you ask for another game. Occasionally you ask about certain pieces as your memory of the game is hazy. Despite beating you multiple times, Leona finds it entertaining. You don’t get discouraged even after losing every time. And you don’t lose as quickly each time.

Leaning back, you let out a sigh, “I think I’m all chessed out.”

He tips the queen on the board back and forth. “You’re not bad. You learn quickly. With some practice, you could get better.”

“Maybe even good enough to beat you?” you ask.

Smirking, he flicks the queen on its side. It rolls across the board to you. “Not even in your dreams, herbivore.”

You let out a laugh that lights up your face. For once you don’t have the stern teacher facade he’s seen you wear most times. Only with Cheka do you look like you’re enjoying yourself. He still remembers the sound of your voice as it fell and rose while you pretended to be different characters. You're much more animated when you’re relaxed and let your guard down.

---

Leona wishes he could be anywhere but here. Farena’s wife had foisted Cheka onto him just as he was going out. She knew he couldn’t say no, and so today he’s on babysitting duties. Where’s the brat’s nanny?

“Unca Leona! Look!” Cheka points to a small pastry stall. Rows upon rows of sweets and confections are on display. From the looks of it, the seller is not from around the area. The young cub eagerly runs over while Leona follows at a leisurely stroll.

Cheka presses his face against the glass case. “Can I have one, huh??”

“Yeah, whatever.” It’s not his fault if the kid eats sweets before dinner.

As the young boy eagerly points to a chocolate covered treat, the stall owner rings him up. “That will be 500 thaumarks.”

Leona stares at him blankly as Cheka is already eating the treat. “I don’t have money. Just bill it to the royal account.”

The stall owner nervously looks between him and his nephew. “I-I’m sorry, sir?” The confusion is written all over his face. Leona feels his irritation grow.

“I don’t carry money on me. Just go to the palace and ask to be paid. They’ll know what to do.” He starts to turn away, but the stall owner is still persistent.

“P-please wait a s-second!” This is why he doesn’t deal with non-locals, they don’t know the rules.

“Unca Leona, are we going to jail?” Cheka asks, golden eyes wide.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Leona almost snaps at the stall owner when a familiar voice calls to them. “Leona? Cheka?”

You’re carrying an armful of groceries as you near them. Dressed in more casual clothes, he almost doesn’t recognize you. Cheka grins as he bounds over. He wraps his arms around your waist, nearly making you lose your balance.

“(Y/N)! What are you doing here?” You set down the bags to give him a proper hug.

“I was doing some grocery shopping. What about you?” Your brows draw together as you chuckle. “You have chocolate all over your mouth, Cheka.”

The boy furiously rubs his mouth with the back of his hand. “Unca Leona and I are spending the day together! But since he doesn’t carry money, we’re going to jail.” He nods solemnly.

You tilt your head to the side as you give Leona a questioning look. “We ain’t goin’ to jail, brat!”

“I would hope not. You’re too cute for jail, Cheka,” you joke. Pulling out your wallet, you glance at the stall owner. “I can pay.”

“Yaya!” Cheka cheers as he jumps in the air. 

You hand over the money. Picking your groceries back up, you ruffle his hair. “My treat. I’m done for the day, so I’ll be heading back.”

Before Leona can say anything, Cheka follows after you as he calls over his shoulder, “Let’s go, Unca Leona!”

Muttering under his breath about being bossed around, Leona reluctantly follows. As Cheka runs ahead, you glance at the lion with an amused smile. “So, the great prince Leona was about to go to jail?”

Snorting, he crosses his arms over his chest. “As if. I’ve never had issues with paying. Everyone knows to bill it to the royal account. Apparently you out of towners know nothing.”

“Royal account? It must be nice to not worry about having to carry money.” Shaking your head, you can’t imagine the life he lives. “Maybe just carry a bit around just in case something like this happens again. I won’t always be there to bail you out.”

“As if I need you to.” He rolls his eyes before grabbing one of your bags.

“Hey!”

“You’re only holding us up by carryin’ all those,” he scoffs.

He can feel your stare but resolutely looks forward. “Thank you,” you mumble as you catch up to his long strides.

---

Most people in the palace know not to linger or rest in certain places. Those spots are reserved for a certain lazy lion. So, when Leona arrives at one of his napping spots under the acacia, he’s not pleased to see a figure resting there.

He’s about to kick the intruder out when he realizes it’s you. A book rests face down on your chest. You snooze with your mouth slightly ajar. It’s a funny sight.

His annoyance fades slightly. Too tired to go to another spot, Leona plops down next to you. There’s plenty of space for him. He’ll let the transgression go this time.

Sometime later when he wakes up, you’ve somehow moved so that your head rests against his shoulder. You’re drooling on his shirt sleeve. Clicking his tongue, he pushes you none too gently causing you to fall over and wake up.

“Huh?!” Sitting up, you rub the sleep from your eyes. “L-Leona?”

He sneers at his wet sleeve. “Ya drool like waterfall, herbivore.”

Picking up your book, you apologize, “Sorry… I can pay for it to be cleaned?” you offer, trying to wipe the leftover drool away.

“Tch. Maybe next time you sleep with your mouth closed.” Standing, he stretches and yawns. “Later, herbivore.”

Watching as he leaves, you wonder when he arrived.

---

“Cheka has improved exponentially. I think he’ll be ready for more challenging material in a year or so,” you inform Farena. Giving him Cheka’s mid-year report, you hand him a thick packet with your notes and observations.

Farena browses through the notes. ���I’m glad to hear Cheka’s doing so well! He’s such a bright boy, but sometimes has a difficult time staying focused. I can tell you’re doing great work, (Y/N)!”

You bow your head. “Thank you, your highness.”

The door to Farena’s office opens and Cheka pokes his head in. “Papa!”

“Cheka!” The man beams as the young boy runs over to him. He hops into his lap as Farena hugs him. “What brings you here?”

“Unca Leona said I should stop bothering him and come find you,” the boy explains.

Ferna chuckles as he turns to you. “Are we done here?”

You do have a few more things you want to go over, but decide you can save it for another time. “I’m all set. You can keep the report. There's a plan for the next six months you can review and let me know what you think, your highness.”

Giving the prince one last bow, you leave his office. Shutting the door, you head back to your guest residence. Much like the rest of the palace, the guest quarters are just as lavish. There’s a fully functional kitchen, which you have stocked with food. You could have the royal chefs cook for you, but prefer making your own meals.

As you put together dinner, your thoughts wander to a certain second prince. Leona is an interesting character to say the least. He’s the opposite of his warm and friendly brother. Oftentimes you spot him napping in various places. It doesn’t seem like he has any duties and spends his days doing whatever he pleases.

You’ve heard the whispers of the staff. 

He’s the second born, so there are no expectations for him. 

He’s rude, prideful, and arrogant.

He’ll use underhand tricks to get what he wants.

His unique magic is terrifying.

He's good for nothing.

Even gossip has a grain of truth. Yet, you try not to cast judgment on him beyond what you’ve learned from your interactions. Leona is rude, prideful, and arrogant. But he’s also cunning and a brilliant strategist. Though he shows a strong distaste for his nephew, he does watch out for him in his own way. He seems to have a softer side, though he’d probably kill you if you ever said it to his face.

You don’t realize you’re smiling as you think about him.

---

“Unca Leona, can you show me your unique magic?” Cheka asks, his eyes sparkle with curiosity.

Somehow the brat had found him while he was snoozing. He had made sure to hide away from prying eyes as much as possible. Yet, no hiding place is safe from Cheka.

Not even bothering to open his eyes, he tries to shoo him away. “No. Leave me alone.”

Cheka persists. “Please! (Y/N) said everyone has a unique magic and I wanna see yours. Pleeeeeeaaaassssseeeeee!”

Leona sighs, exasperated. “Listen, brat, my unique magic isn’t for fun and games. People can get hurt, and I would rather not get yelled at by your mom.”

The young boy droops. “Okay…”

Rubbing his face, Leona stands up. There’s no napping now. “Where’s your tutor?”

He perks up. “(Y/N) is at the guest house. They said I can always visit whenever I want. Do you wanna visit them too, Unca Leona?”

Leona is already heading in the direction of the guest house. “Yeah, somethin’ like that,” he mutters. Cheka scampers after him eagerly.

Arriving at the guest house, the door is open so he lets himself in. “Oi! Herbivore, you home?”

There’s the sound of crashing and the two follow the noise. In the kitchen, you're picking up a fallen pot. “Leona?” You eye him quizzically as Cheka immediately runs over to you.

“We wanted to visit!” the boy exclaims. He stands on his tiptoes as he eyes the freshly made chocolate chip cookies set on the table.

You hand him one. “What do I owe for this surprise visit?”

“The kid wants to see some unique magic, so I thought since you’re his tutor, you’d be able to show him,” he explains, shaking his head.

You absently hand Cheka another cookie as he makes grabby hands at you. “I guess I could show him. My unique magic is basically useless for combat so it should be safe.”

Turning to the boy, you bite your lip. He has chocolate all over his face. “Come on, Cheka. I’ll show you my unique magic.”

“Yay!” He grabs your hand as you lead him outside. Leona follows quietly behind.

Standing outside, you close your eyes. “Let the green touch the lands wherever I go. Grow! Flourish! Nature’s blessing.”

Suddenly all around you, grass springs up. Wild flowers grow and bloom. Leona watches as a sprout grows taller and taller. It flourishes into a sturdy tree with dark green leaves that shade you from the sun.

“Woah! That’s amazing!” Cheka runs over to the tree to touch the trunk. “It’s real?!”

Bending over with hands on your knees, you catch your breath. “Yup, everything made with my unique magic are real plants. It’s about a ten foot radius all around.” You smile weakly.

Leona reaches up to pluck off a leaf. “To be able to create life from nothin’ is a feat.” He turns to you, green eyes gleaming. “And here I thought you weren’t that impressive, herbivore.”

“Well it’s not like any of this is useful. I can’t grow fruit or anything edible. The plants only last as long as they naturally can in whatever environment it’s currently in.” You plop down in the grass with a sigh. “It uses too much magic, so I’m usually tired afterwards. I guess it could be a neat party trick…”

Cheka is too busy climbing the tree to notice your exhaustion. Leona lays down in the grass. “At least it’s the type of unique magic people aren’t afraid of. This makes an ideal napping spot.”

Peering at him, you notice the way he seems off in thought staring up at the canopy of leaves. “Just because your unique magic might be dangerous, doesn’t mean you are,” you point out.

He snorts. “Most people don’t think that way. They’re all too blinded by their fear.” Closing his eyes, he can hear Cheka chattering to himself while climbing back down.

The young boy comes over and flops down next to Leona. “This is so cool!” He points at a spot on one of the branches. “Look! Even the birds are coming to rest.”

Chuckling, you lay down as well. You're still tired from using your unique magic. “Sometimes it’s nice to just lay in the shade of a tree.”

Leona agrees with a non-committal hum. Cheka worms his way between you two. The three of you rest in the shade of the tree.

Suddenly Cheka asks, “Do you have someone back home (Y/N)?”

“Um, no. Why do you ask?” You’re a bit afraid to hear his answer.

Cheka sits up as he looks at you then Leona. “Then you can marry unca Leona! That way, you can stay here forever, and unca Leona won’t be so grumpy!”

“Hey, brat, sometimes it’s better to keep ya mouth shut!” Leona snaps, sitting up as well. His teeth are clenched and he refuses to look in your direction.

The boy doesn’t seem too bothered by his uncle’s words. “But papa said if people like each other, they should get married. You like (Y/N), don’t you?”

“That’s…that’s none of your business!” he growls. Scowling fiercely, he lays back down and turns on his side away from Cheka. “Don’t bother me,” he grunts.

“Did I say something wrong?” Cheka asks in a loud whisper.

Biting your lip, you try not to laugh. “Just let him rest.”

Flopping back down, Cheka sighs, “I still think you and unca Leona should get married,” he says honestly.

You remain silent as you mull over his words.

---

A week before Cheka’s birthday, the palace is abuzz. Many people run around with decorations throughout the week. Farena is busy organizing the party and has invitations sent out to just about everyone. You received a handmade invitation from Cheka to attend his party during one of your lessons.

As his birthday draws closer, the young boy can’t seem to sit still for his lessons. You decide to switch tactics. Instead of lessons in the library, the two of you spend time around the palace gardens. Practical magic application requires more open space, and it gives you an excuse to let Cheka run around a bit.

“Did you see that?!” Cheka jumps around wildly as his attempt to move some pebbles with wind magic finally succeeds. They only roll a bit but it’s enough to excite him.

You clap enthusiastically. “Wonderful job, Cheka!” He tilts his head closer so you can pat him. He smiles triumphantly as you ruffle his hair. “I can tell you’ve been practicing your concentration. You’re progressing nicely,” you praise.

Picking up the pebbles, you place them back in a pouch. You gesture to Cheka to sit down on a nearby bench. Rummaging through the bag you always carry, you pull out a wrapped box. Handing it to him, you watch as his eyes light up.

“Is this my birthday gift?!” He’s ready to tear into it.

Nodding, you chuckle at his barely restrained excitement. “Yes. I thought you could open my gift early.” In reality, you don’t want Cheka to make a big fuss over your gift at his party. He most likely would receive far better gifts from the many guests.

He eagerly rips the wrapping paper away. Pulling off the box top, he pulls out a small snow globe. Rather than depicting snow, it’s filled with grass and miniature flowers. There’s even a miniature tree like the one that grew when you used your unique magic. The flowers and tree grow before disappearing in a puff of green sparkle and then regrow again.

“Woah!” He holds it close to his face.

“I infused a bit of my unique magic in some runes. I thought a small plant world would make a fun snow globe,” you explain. It took you many trials and long nights to complete the gift. Infusing runes with your magic took precise control and a lot of patience. It sounded easy in theory, but you had learned how difficult it actually was.

“This is so cool!” He carefully set the globe back in the box before wrapping his short arms around you. “Thank you!”

Squeezing him tight, you smile brightly. Pulling away, you pat his head. “Alright, lessons are over for today. I’ll let you enjoy some time off before your birthday.”

Jumping up, he holds the box with your gift closer to his chest. “I wanna show papa my gift!” He’s off like a bolt of light.

Shaking your head, you pick up the rest of your things before heading to the guest house. You hadn’t planned to give Cheka something, but you also couldn’t resist the urge to make him smile. His joy is infectious. As much as you promised not to get too personal with Cheka, he had wormed his way into your heart.

---

You try your best to avoid bumping into people as you weave your way through the party. There are so many guests, and they’re all in merry moods. Cheka’s birthday celebration is nothing like you’ve ever been to. There’s so much food and drink, it seems to overflow. Music and dancers entertain the guests. 

Beatmen, fae, humans and other magical creatures mingle and laugh. It was fun at first, but now you’re feeling tired. The excitement has become a bit too much for you. Sneaking out of the party, you manage to wander into the garden. The music and cheering is muffled, and the air feels nice on your heated skin.

Sitting down on one of the benches, you let out a relieved breath. “Too much excitement for ya, herbivore?”

Leona’s voice makes you jump up. You spy a set of bright emerald eyes staring at you. Sprawled out on the grass and mostly hidden by the bushes, he’s very hard to spot. Your heart still beats rapidly as you sink back down.

“Don’t do that…” You sigh. “I just needed a break from all that. It’s a lot to take in. Are parties usually this extravagant?”

He tilts his head before slinking over to you. “Usually. Farena likes to go all out when it comes to birthday parties.” He pushes you to the edge of the bench, so he can sit down. “It’s annoying but harmless.”

“So, what did you get Cheka?” you ask, curious since you didn’t see him give a gift during the present opening.

“A mechanical meerkat,” he answers. He shrugs when you give him a confused look. “Some toy inventor was trying to sell it a few weeks ago. No one was buyin’ it, but I thought the brat would like it. According to the inventor, it can lead you home if you tell it to.”

Peering at him, he doesn’t meet your probing gaze. “That actually sounds useful. You’re a good uncle, Leona.”

He grumbles something under his breath that you can’t hear. However, the way his ears twitch, you wonder if he’s just a little happy at the compliment. “Stop lookin’ so smug, herbivore,” he growls.

Grinning, you stand up. “Despite all your complaining, you care about him.” He scoffs but doesn’t deny your claim. “Come on, we should head back.” Offering him your hand, you meet his intense gaze with a fond look of your own.

Leona takes your hand, and you lead him out of the garden. Down the darkened halls of the castle, you two slowly walk back to the party while talking in low voices. You’re not in any hurry to return to the celebration.

---

There’s a night bazaar happening and Cheka is determined to go. You can only stand in Farena’s office and watch as the young boy begs his father to take him. Your paperwork was forgotten the moment Cheka had run into the office during your meeting.

“Please, papa! I really wanna go tonight! You promised last year that you’d take me!” he begs, his eyes wide and filled with pleading. The mechanical meerkat that Leona had gifted him skitters from the boy’s pocket to his head.

Farena sighs, shoulders slumping forward. “I’m sorry, Cheka. I really can’t. Papa has some very important meetings he needs to attend. I can’t push them off.” The unspoken ‘again’ hangs in the air.

Cheka’s large golden eyes fill with tears. “Bu-but…” His lower lip wobbles dangerously.

With a panicked look in his eyes, Farena meets your gaze. He stares at you for a moment longer before a smile stretches across his face. “I’m sure (Y/N) can take you though!”

“W-what?” Baffled, you can only open and close your mouth.

Cheka sniffles as he wipes his face before looking at you with hopeful eyes. “Really?”

You resist the urge to say what you’re really feeling by biting the inside of your cheek. “Of course! You’re not busy, are you?” Farena asks, his eyes pleading much like how his son was just moments before.

“I-I mean I had plans…” In reality, you were just going to finish grading Cheka’s last test and finish reviewing your future lessons. Very exciting things!

Having the king of all people look at you with what can only be called puppy eyes is a very startling turn of events. “Leona can go with you too,” he adds with a grin

“Unca Leona!” Cheka cheers, all sadness gone without a trace.

Farena gives Cheka a big squeeze before letting the boy rush off to find his uncle. “I’ll see you at the front door!” he calls before the door closes with a click. 

You meet his gaze, his eyes the same warm golden shade as his son’s. “I take it I don’t have much choice on this matter?”

The man shakes his head. “Of course you have a choice. I can’t force you to go.” He drums his fingers on his desk as he regards you with sharp eyes. “But Cheka’s so fond of you, I thought some more time together would be nice. If you don’t want to go, you don’t have to. Cheka’s a big boy, he’ll understand.”

Eyes narrowing, the easy smile on his face doesn’t seem so friendly. “As you wish, your highness.” You give a stiff bow before leaving his office.

You can hear Cheka’s voice drifting through the halls as you walk away. Shaking your head at your encounter with the king, you meet him at the front. Cheka is bouncing around excitedly while Leona scowls, his dark hair a mess. The meerkat hangs on his shoulders; it’s become his constant companion.

“I need to drop some things off at the guest house,” you tell them. Leona’s scowl seems to soften a bit when you come closer.

“Okay! Then the bazaar!” The boy grabs your hand. You can only give Leona a helpless smile as you're dragged along.

After putting away your things and grabbing some money, the three of you walk to the bazaar. It’s filled with people wandering about as they enjoy the food, entertainment, and festive atmosphere. Cheka tugs you to each and every stall.

He chatters non stop at everything he sees, pointing with wide eyes at the decorations. You listen to his enthusiastic ramblings while Leona follows a few paces behind. Eventually you stop at a stall to buy a few treats. Cheka is chowing down on a chocolate pastry from the same seller as last time.

“So, it looked like Cheka had just woken you up from a nap,” you comment.

Leona rubs his eyes. “The brat seems to have a knack for finding me regardless of how well I hide.” He shakes his head as Cheka starts eating another sweet. “How’d my brother rope you into this?”

Looking around, you notice a puppet show being set up. A group of children are already gathered in front of the makeshift stage. “Let’s just say your brother is very…persuasive when he wants to be.”

Snorting, you glance at Leona, who rolls his eyes dramatically. “He knows how to get his way.”

Nudging his arm with your elbow, you give him a teasing grin. “I’d say the same for you. The two of you go about it in different ways, but the end result is the same.”

There’s a sharpness to his smile. “I can show how persuasive I can be, herbivore. And I promise I’m better than my brother.” His emerald greens seem to darken as he holds your gaze.

Feeling heat prickle up your neck, you turn away. “Cheka! Do you want to watch the puppet show?” As you usher the young boy over to the show, you can hear Leona’s low chuckle, sending shivers down your back.

The puppet show starts after a few minutes. The story is rather morbid for a children’s play. The story revolves around a young man and his uncle turned stepfather, who may have poisoned his brother to become king. You become so engrossed in the play that you don’t notice Cheka slipping away.

There’s a particular moment in the play that causes you to turn to Cheka. “Did you see tha-” Your eyes land on an empty seat before frantically scanning around. Standing up, you urgently run over to Leona, who had opted to rest a bit away on a bench.

“Did you see Cheka?!” The fear in your voice is palpable.

He quickly sits up, eyes focused. “No. He couldn’t have gotten far.” Taking your hand, the two of you rush through the bazaar calling his name.

“Cheka? Cheka?! Cheka!” You split off from Leona hoping to cover more ground. As you rush by stalls and the throngs of people, you can only think of finding him.

Something shiny catches your eye near the edge of the bazaar. Rushing over, you realize it’s the mechanical meerkat that Cheka always carries. Though a bit dusty, the toy is perfectly fine. It immediately curls up in your hand as you pocket the toy. Moving away from the bright lights of the festival, you make your way through the dim streets and alleys in the general direction of where you found the meerkat.

You hear a loud sound coming from one of the alleys and carefully make your way over. Peering into the narrow passage, you can make out two figures struggling with a small figure. As the clouds suddenly part and moonlight fills the dark alley, your eyes widen. The two figures are struggling with a terrified Cheka.

“Let him go!” You rush at them as magic builds at your fingertips. However, Cheka cries out as a sharp pain radiates from the back of your head. Your vision blurs as you feel your body pitch forward. Everything goes black.

---

Waking up with a throbbing headache, you find yourself laying on your side. The grimy, cold floor rubs against your cheek as you struggle to sit up. Your hands are bound behind your back with rope as well as your legs. The world spins as you manage to sit up and take in your surroundings.

There’s not much except some planks of wood leaning against a wall, empty buckets stacked in a corner and a boarded up window. The air is stale and the only light comes from a door slightly ajar. You can hear muffled voices arguing.

“(Y/N)?” a tiny voice calls to you. Blinking as your eyes adjust, you realize Cheka is tied up as well. He sits with his back against a wall. His shirt hangs limply off of him and his face is smudged with dirt. 

“Cheka, are you okay?” you ask in a low voice.

He nods, tears threaten to spill. “When those men hit you, I thought…I thought you wer-” his voice breaks into a muffled sob.

“It’s okay, Cheka. Shhh, shhh.” You keep your voice down as you try to sooth him. “I’m okay. You’re okay. And we’re getting out of here.”

Sniffling, he tries his best to calm down. “H-how?”

“Give me a second to think.” There’s not much you can use in the room. If you try breaking down the boards on the window, it might draw too much attention. The only other way out is straight through where the voices are coming from.

Testing the bindings on your wrist, they don’t budge. Drawing on your magic, you summon a small fire. As they burn through the rope, you try your best to ignore the pain as the flame licks your skin. Once the rope is burned enough for you to easily break them, you do the same for the binds on your legs.

“Cheka, how many men are there?” you ask, tossing aside the burnt rope.

“Th-three I think. They’ve been fighting for a while. I-I think I’ve seen one of them before.” Once free to move, you crawl over to Cheka and start working on his ropes.

“This will hurt, but you can’t make a sound. Okay?” Peering at his tired eyes, he nods slowly. You try your best to burn the rope without hurting him, but you notice the way he slightly jerks away before biting down on his lip.

“Almost there. You’re doing an amazing job,” you praise. Tears fall, but he remains quiet. You tug at the ropes and they easily break. Making quick work of the rest of the bindings, you sit on your haunches. 

Contemplating your next move, you decide to get going. There isn’t much you can do, but you need to get out. Meeting Cheka’s gaze, you tell him, “I’m going to carry you. Hold as tight as you can and don’t let go. Whatever happens, don’t look. Okay?”

“Okay.” He scrambles to your side and loops his arms around your neck. Standing up, you nearly fall back down as the world spins and your head pounds. Using the wall to right yourself, you push through the bout of dizziness. You heft him up on your good side while leaving one hand free to cast magic.

“There’s going to be a lot of noise, but I want you to ignore it.” He answers by burying his face in your shoulder. Tightening your hold, you inhale sharply. Gathering your magic, you rush out the slightly ajar door.

It bangs open loudly, startling the three men. You recognize one as the stall seller from earlier. Before they can react, you quickly throw fireballs at their feet. You call upon the wind to whip  through the small area. It stirs the dust on the ground and sends smaller objects flying.

“What the hell?!”

You squeeze your eyes shut as you make a dash for the exit. Rushing outside, you stumble a bit before breaking out in a mad dash. It’s still dark out, but the moonlight makes it easier to navigate.

They have two horses tied up nearby. Honing wind magic with sharp focus, you direct  it to cut through the rope. The horses rear in fright and immediately run off. At least the kidnappers won’t be able to use them.

“Shit! Get them! Bring the brat back alive!”

You hold Cheka tightly against you as you pump your legs. Nothing else matters except getting to somewhere safe. At the outskirts of town, you can make the faint glimmer of lights in some of the houses. Urging your magic once more, a wind pushes against your back, allowing you to run just a little faster. You can hear the kidnappers shouting but don’t look back.

Cheka keeps his eyes squeezed tight like you told him, but his whole body shakes. You continue to mutter reassurances to him, though at this point you’re trying to reassure yourself too. Feeling the fatigue of using magic so much, you let the wind die down. You can only do a little more magic before it becomes an issue.

Passing by a few homes, you call out, “Please, someone help us!”

No one answers. You see houses that were once lit suddenly turn dark. Gritting your teeth, you adjust your hold on Cheka. You can hear the kidnappers getting closer. Rushing down side streets, you zigzag through the town. You knock over trash cans in different directions before bolting down a different alley.

There’s a brief respite from all the running once you can no longer hear the kidnappers. You set Cheka down to catch your own breath. Your chest burns from the exertion. The throbbing in the back of your head has gotten worse. Cheka stares up at you with worried eyes. He gnaws on his lower lip.

Glancing around, you spy a large, water drum near the door of a house. Usually used to store rain water, you notice the crack in the side of the drum. The house itself is dark and looks to be empty. There’s also a clothing line with dry clothes and a blanket hanging. There’s a sack leaning against the drum, and you can see a shirt sleeve sticking out of it.

An idea starts to form. “Cheka, I need you to be very brave right now. I know this situation is very scary, but I promise that you’ll be safe. Do you trust me?” You kneel so your eye level with him.

He nods solemnly. Any of that usual joy is gone, and it breaks your heart. “I trust you.”

“I need you to hide in that water drum. Hide in there and count slowly to one hundred.” You pull out the mechanical meerkat you had picked up. Thankfully it still works as it jumps out of your hand and climbs up Cheka to settle on his shoulder.

There’s a small smile on his face for a moment. “Then,” you continue, “once you finish counting and you don’t hear anyone around, I want you to use the meerkat to lead you home. You remember what Leona told you, right?”

“Yes… He said I just have to ask it to take me home, and it’ll lead me back to the palace.” 

Nodding, you ruffle his hair. “Good. Now get in the drum and don’t come out until you’re done counting.” You pop off the lid.

Cheka climbs into the drum. He peers up at you. “Will you be okay?”

“I’ll be fine. We’ll meet back at the palace, I promise.” Giving him what you hope is a reassuring smile, you place the lid on the drum. 

Grabbing the sack of clothes and the blanket, you dawn a large jacket and pull the hood up. You mentally apologize to whoever you’re stealing from and promise you’ll return everything. Covering the sack with the blanket, you hold it as if it were Cheka.

Breathing deeply, you give one last glance at the drum before running off. You can hear the kidnappers nearby and purposefully run by them.

“There! Get them!”

Running down streets and turning corners, you can hear them gaining. Just as you turn another corner, you come to a fence. There’s a stack of crates that you climb on to jump over the fence. However, the landing isn’t perfect as your foot lands the wrong way. You tumble forwards into the ground. Tucking the sack under your body, you come to a rolling stop. Getting back up, you wince as pain shoots up your leg.

One of the kidnappers, the stall owner, is rushing at you. As you attempt to flee, he manages to snag the back of the hood. You find yourself being dragged back. Then a clawed hand roughly grabs the back of your head causing the pain from before to intensify. Your eyes widen as you face rapidly meet the ground before you squeeze them shut. 

The burst of pain as your forehead cracks against the cold ground has you seeing stars. You cry out, but the assailant doesn’t stop. Something cracks loudly. An animalistic howl rips from your throat. You swear your face is on fire.

“Hey, man, stop!” There’s some struggle before the clawed hand disappears. You feel the cold ground pressing against your cheek but can’t see anything beyond the tears.

Someone rolls you over and the blanket is torn away. “Fuck! Where’s the brat?!”

Three shadows hover over you in the morning light. You feel a foot nudge your side. “Where’s the kid!?”

Through the pain, you find yourself smiling despite your face protesting against the gesture. You hand twitches and shakes as you try to raise it. However, a heavy pressure immediately stomps on your hand causing another scream to be ripped from your throat. You can feel the bones being ground down by the heel of someone’s foot.

“Not this time fucking mage!” growls one of them

“We’re gonna ask one last time. Where’s the boy?”

Through blurry vision, you can see their faces. Your heartbeat thumps in your ears as you see a glint of a knife in one of their hands. You were supposed to be a tutor, that’s it. Yet, you somehow find yourself bloody, bruised and beaten. There’s nothing you can do.

Whatever adrenaline that was rushing through you before, dies down. Your body sags as all the fight leaves you. Closing your eyes, you wait.

“Not gonna talk…” The foot on your hand moves away.

“Just kill them! We need to get outta here before the guards are called.”

You wonder if Cheka made it back safe.

“Let’s get this ove-arhhhhgghhh!”

Terrified screams fill the air. You can feel the crackle of magic on your skin. Gentle hands gingerly lift you up. The warmth of another body feels like a relief from the cold ground. Something tickles your face.

“You’re all a bunch of idiots. Hurting someone from the royal family is a crime punishable by death!” Leona growls. There’s a sense of relief that floods your body. You're safe.

“Take (Y/N) back to the palace and have the royal doctor take care of the injuries,” he orders. You’re passed off to someone else.

“I am the one who hungers. I am the one who thirsts.” Distinctly you can hear the kidnappers shouting and feel the ground shake. 

But soon you can’t hear anything. It doesn’t matter though as you allow yourself to slip away.

---

When you wake once more, you’re not in a grungy basement. You recognize your room at the guest house. Whatever aches and pains you had before aren’t as pronounced. Sitting up, you inspect your arms and notice your hand is bandaged up. You touch your face with your good hand and wince. There’s a dull throbbing all throughout your face.

“You’re awake.” The doctor, a cat beastman, enters. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore but fine.” You lean back against the propped up pillows. “Is Cheka okay?”

She checks your pulse. “The young prince is fine. Tired and scared, but he wasn’t hurt. You on the other hand needed a lot of fixing.” She clicks her tongue. “Your nose was broken and the area around it was extensively bruised. Your hand will need time to heal naturally, though I did reset it with magic. Your head should be fine after a few days, but you will feel some pain. Take one pill in the morning and one before bed. Drink plenty of water and get rest.”

Frowning, you set the bottle of pills down on the side table. “I’m Cheka’s tutor, I need to work.”

“You will do no such thing for at least a week,” she snaps. Her mismatched eyes glare at you as she shakes her head. “I will tell the king that you need rest or else.”

Shrinking under her gaze, you nod. “...fine.”

“Good. There’s some people here to see you.” Gesturing to the door, you finally notice Cheka peeking in.

He rushes to your side, but stops himself as he takes in the sight of you. “I’m sorry!” he suddenly cries out.

You panic as tears fall down his face. “C-Cheka? It’s okay! I’m fine!” You stroke his head with your good hand. “Everything turned out alright in the end.”

“B-but you got hurt because of me!”

Shaking your head vehemently, you give him a firm look. “You didn’t hurt me, Cheka. Those kidnappers did. Don’t ever think it’s your fault. Okay?”

Sniffling, he nods. “O-okay.”

Sighing, you give him a few more pats. “I won’t be able to do lessons for a week, but I’d like it if we could still hang out.”

Golden eyes brightening, he jumps up. “I’ll visit you everyday! We can read and play games together!”

“That sounds like a plan!” Giving him a big grin despite the throbbing pain, your heart feels lighter seeing him shine again.

He gingerly wraps his arms around you in a warm hug. There’s a cough that breaks up the hug. Leona casually leans against the door frame. “Come on, brat. Time to give (Y/N) some space.”

“Okay! I’ll be back soon. I promise!” He scampers off.

Leona saunters in and takes a seat at your bedside. “You look like shit, herbivore.”

“Thanks for pointing out the obvious.” The glare you throw him has no heat and a smile forms on your face.

He eyes you for a moment before shaking his head. “You’re a lot of trouble, ya know that?” There’s fondness despite the scowl.

“Thank you for saving me.” Your gaze softens. “I really thought I was done. I can’t tell you how relieved I felt hearing your voice.”

Leaning back in the chair, he smirks. “Ya owe me one.”

Eyebrows flying up, you warily ask, “What do you want?”

“Well,” he holds up three fingers, “you have to be my napping pillow whenever I ask. Play chess with me. And you can’t leave.”

Brows coming together, you frown. “I can do one and two, but three isn’t possible. You do realize I’m hired by your brother to be Cheka’s tutor? Once I’m no longer needed, I have to find a new job.”

Scoffing, Leona leaves the chair to hover over you. He’s dangerously close and you can hear your heart thumping in your ears. “I’ll just hire you as my tutor when the time comes.”

“You?” Despite his closeness, you still find the ability to laugh.

“Mhm. I believe there are some things that only you can teach me.” His eyes gleam brightly as he inches ever closer to your face.

You can feel his lips brush against your own. Squeezing your eyes shut, you wait. Even though your face hurts, you decide you don’t mind if he kisses you. Instead, you feel his lips brush against your forehead. Cracking your eyes open, your puzzled look makes him chuckle. 

His eyes are darker than before. “The doc says you can’t do anything strenuous. She’d have my head if I tried anything right now. But once you're healed, everything is fair game.” 

You feel very warm under his gaze. However, you’re also itching to heal as quickly as possible. You suddenly recall Cheka’s very innocent question about marrying Leona. Looking away from him, you wonder.

“Whacha thinkin’ so hard about?” he asks, noticing the way you can’t meet his gaze.

Shaking your head, you scoot over in bed. “Nothing. Since I’m on bed rest, you can comfort me.”

A single eyebrow goes up. “Gettin’ bold.” However, he crawls under the covers before hauling you closer to him. 

Resting your head against his chest, you relax. “So, are we…?” You trail off, not sure how to ask.

He snorts. “Of course we are. Keep up, herbivore.” Leona holds you gently, being sure not to touch any of your injuries. “Just rest,” he orders.

Closing your eyes, you decide not to worry about the logistics. Right now, you’re not Cheka’s tutor and Leona isn’t a prince. You’re just two people. And it’s perfect.

#twisted wonderland #twst imagines #twisted wonderland imagines #leona kingscholar #twst leona #leona kingscholar x reader #leona x reader #reader insert #twst royalty au #scenario

[forever-rogue]

tasm!peter with a girlfriend who has the same abilities as him but he doesn’t know it until she does something that gives it away!!!

AN | Ooh, I love this idea 🥰

Pairing | TASM!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 3.1k

Masterlist | Main | Peter

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Peter had met you entirely by chance. He’d never believed in fate or things that weren’t able to be explained by quantifiable evidence. Despite the fact that he, you know, was bitten by a genetically modified spider that gave him superpowers. Even that he could chalk up to some level of science. 

But meeting you? Meeting you had been entirely by fate, a mixture of being in the right time and place. That place happened to be the small hole-in-the-wall coffee shop that was by his apartment. You’d been there, grabbing your paper to-go cup and turning around, only to be met with the hard wall of flesh and muscle. Luckily he’d been quick and agile enough to grab your coffee and keep it from falling or splashing either of you.

You looked up at him with big, wide eyes, a sheepish little smile on your face as any logical thought ran right out of your ear, “hi.”

“Hi,” he grinned back, a flush of pastel pink coloring his cheeks and ears, “I believe this is yours.”

“Thank you,” you gratefully took the morning pick me up and clutched it tightly in your hand, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t hear you and wasn’t paying any attention. Glad one of us was.”

“‘s alright,” he promised, and you seemed to relax, “no harm no foul.”

“Yeah,” you agreed as you shuffled past him, shivers going down your spine as you brushed against him, “thanks again. Have a good day.”

“You too,” he held up his hand in a small little wave. But before you could actually leave, he gently grabbed your arm and stopped you, catching you both by surprise. He wasn’t normally so…forward, “what’s your name?”

Your smile grew even more breathtaking and Peter was sure he would pass out from the sheer magic of it. You whispered your name, just enough for him to hear; he liked it. It suited you perfectly. He couldn’t help but repeat back to you, testing it out on his tongue, “what’s yours, coffee boy?”

“Parker,” he stammered nervously, amazed by the effect you had on him. He groaned and shook his head lightly, “Peter. Peter Parker.”

“Well Peter Parker,” you offered him a dreamy little smile and his heart pitter-pattered in his chest, “it was nice to meet. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, “see you around.”

You’d left with only a small wave and shy smile, disappearing into the crowd of people that had the same idea as both of you, needing a morning caffeine fix. Peter wasn’t sure what he was feeling, but it was a rush of emotion that he’d never experienced before.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Peter sat in bed and stared at the too bright screen of his phone. He was trying not to be a total creep, but he was feeling like…well - a total creep. Once he’d gotten home after a long day of work and his nighttime extracurriculars, Peter had hopped into bed and grabbed his phone, shamelessly searching your name on Instagram. Luckily for him, you weren’t hard to find. Unluckily for him, your account was private. All he had was your name, your handle, and a small picture of you standing in a flower field. Count none but the sunny hours your bio stated, along with simple sun and cloud emojis.

Oh yeah. Peter Parker liked you already. He spent the next thirty minutes in a vain attempt to try and find a public photo of you, but came up empty handed. He was both disappointed and relieved because he really needed to get himself in check. But…as he stared at your profile, looking at the big blue follow button, he debated with himself on whether or not to press it. Once you received the request would you even remember it was him? Would you be weirded out? Or even better, would you accept? Maybe you’d felt the same dizzying emotions he had upon your first encounter. Worse came to worst, you’d ignore the request and block him, and maybe even send him a scathing message telling him off. 

He had to know. 

He quickly pressed the follow button, watching as the request sent message popped up. Peter immediately closed the app and locked his phone, tossing it onto the other side of the bed. His stomach was in knots, and his mind was racing, but what was done was done. Now he had to wait.

But fortune seemed to favor the bold and Peter B. Parker that night. Because not even minutes after he’d sent his request, you’d not only accepted his request, but sent one in return to follow him. He didn’t even hesitate to accept. While he was contemplating between messaging you and looking at your photos, you sent him a message. It was so simple, so straightward, but so very bold of you: hello there coffee boy. Peter pumped his fist in the air as he quietly whooped at the sheer stroke of luck. Either you were extremely friendly with everyone or, and he hoped this was it, you actually liked him. He messaged back just as quickly, deciding not to bother around with any games: hello sunshine.

From there, the rest flowed as naturally as a wild river, blooming and blossoming like the most perfect of flowers. You’d wormed your way into Peter’s heart so quickly, so effortlessly, and made a home there that no one else could ever occupy. You were special; he knew that from the very start. Little did he know that he’d done the exact same to you. Peter was so much a part of your life that you couldn’t ever remember him not being there. It was like he had always just been your person, your Peter. 

That’s why it killed you inside to be keeping such a huge secret from him. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

To be fair - you didn’t even really understand the full extent of your secret. All you knew was that you’d been on a tour near Oscorp one fall afternoon and had gotten bit by something. You hadn’t even seen what it was, and the bite never became infected or raised or anything suspicious. You’d chalked it up to some weird little bug and never thought more about it. 

That was until you noticed the changes to your body. You’d never been particularly clumsy, but you were never as agile as you now were. And you were positive you’d never had that much strength and speed…and your senses were heightened, cuts and bruises healed way faster than they ever should have.

At first you were convinced that you were delusional; you’d lost your mind or were stuck in some kind of wild fever dream. But as time passed and life continued on normally sans your newfound…abilities, you realized that you were just as sane as you ever had been. But you’d never told anyone - after all, who were you supposed to tell that you were pretty sure you’d been bit by some kind of weird bug and you’d developed superhuman abilities? They’d have you committed before you could even finish explaining what was going on. 

So you kept it all tucked away and hidden, invisible to anyone but you. There were times when you’d almost given yourself up, but had managed to quickly explain away whatever odd thing had happened. But there would only be so many slip-ups before someone noticed that something was off. And you weren’t too keen on finding out exactly how other people would respond. 

But - that had left you wondering why you hadn’t heard Peter that fateful day when you’d met. Your hearing was extremely attuned, and you would have heard anyone else…but not him. It was odd, but you’d decided not to question it. 

You loved Peter Parker and that was all that mattered.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Hi sweetheart,” Peter’s face lit up as he opened the door to his apartment to find you on the other side. You didn’t hesitate to press a kiss to his cheek as you wrapped your arms around him. He chuckled warmly as held you tightly, “good to see you too.”

“I missed you,” you murmured into the crook of his neck as he gently rubbed your back.

“You saw me yesterday,” the sentiment made his heart flutter as you flounced into the apartment and set your bag down. While your official relationship was still fairly new, it felt like you had been a fixture in his apartment and his life forever. You fit in so naturally, “can’t have missed me that much.”

“I always miss you when you’re not around Peter,” your eyes were wide and nervous, almost as though you weren’t sure if you’d crossed any boundaries with your little confession, “even if it’s only been a day.”

“Want to know a secret?” he asked softly as you nodded eagerly, “I miss you too when you’re not around.”

“Yeah?” and oh. How you melted under his expression, ochre eyes soft and glittering, looking at you as though you’d hung all the stars.

“Yeah,” he promised, his smile so saccharine and tender, “come on, wanna put on a movie while we figure out what to order for dinner?”

“Yes,” you nodded happily, “sounds perfect.”

Perfect. That’s how you would describe everything with Peter. It could be something as simple as a movie night with him and there was nothing you’d rather be doing. 

This particular night, however, was the first night you’d be spending together at his place. He’d stayed at yours a few nights, but these things were still new to both of you. You liked his place; it was a warm and inviting space and felt very on brand for Peter. 

At one point he’d excused himself to use the restroom, while you cleaned up the leftovers in the kitchen. You’d been sure that he’d come back out because you heard him clear as day, “am I being too pushy? Too much?”

“You aren’t at all Peter,” you found the fact that he still had moments of such shyness endearing. Turning around, you expected to find him standing there, but instead found nothing but the empty living room. Oh. He hadn’t been there at all. 

After a moment of hesitation, Peter ducked back into the hallway looking at you with confusion on his pretty features, “what did you say?”

“I-I said you aren’t being pushy,” you said nervously as his eyes widened, “y-you asked me?”

“I didn’t ask you,” he raised an eyebrow and your heart dropped into your stomach, “I was talking to myself. Whispering to myself.”

Your mind was reeling as you tried to figure out how you were possibly going to explain your exemplary hearing. You opened and closed your mouth a few times before shrugging lightly, “you must not have been as quiet as you thought, Pete. I dunno.”

“No,” he knew he hadn’t been that loud, “you have extremely good hearing.”

“I guess I do,” you tried to play him off, but you knew Peter better than that. He was a man of science and he wouldn’t let something like this go, “it’s really nothing.”

“Hmm,” he nodded, scratching at his chin thoughtfully, “if you insist, sweetheart.” 

“I do, Pete,” you teased, walking over to him and tenderly touching his face. Even up close, he was so ridiculously pretty, “it’s not like I’ve got some great secret to hide!”

If you only knew the truth.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was a cool fall afternoon that found the two of you at your apartment, baking lots of different kinds of cookies. It was a cozy day, filled with music from the record player flooding into the room and all sorts of delicious smells. The two of you flitted around each other, almost like dancing, in perfect sync. 

It was all going well until you managed to slice the palm of your hand. You hissed as you dropped the knife and watched the blood flow freely from the cut and onto the counter. 

“Shit,” your lips trembled with effort to keep from crying at the stinging pain. Peter was at your side in a moment, looking concerned at sight. You looked up at him with glistening eyes, trying not to panic.

“Oh baby,” he wrapped his fingers around your wrist and looked at the cut with a grimace, “it’ll be okay, sweetheart. Let me take care of it.”

“Okay,” you sniffled but he managed to remain calm and collected as he turned on the tap and ran it with cool water. He gingerly took your hand and ran it under the water, to lessen the flow of the blood and get everything cleaned up, “i-is it bad?”

“It’s pretty deep,” he confirmed, already making a plan in his mind to either take care of it himself, or take you to urgent care to get it stitched up, “I think you’re going to need stitches.”

“N-no,” you tried to pull your hand out of his grasp, but he was stronger, “it’ll be fine, Peter. I’ll just get it wrapped and it’ll heal.”

“I don’t think it’s going to heal properly without-”

“It’ll heal,” you insisted sharply, not meaning it to sound as harsh as it did, “I-I heal quickly.” 

“But-”

“Peter,” you grabbed a clean cloth wrapped around your palm, “I swear. I know my body.”

He leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest, regarding you with a curious air. Ever since the bathroom accident, he’d become more hyper-aware of all the little things about you that were…different. Obviously, he was aware, very aware, of his own powers and abilities and if he didn’t know any better, you were in a similar boat. 

“I’ll tell you why I get so many random bruises and cuts,” he spoke softly after a few beats of silence had passed, “if you tell me what’s up with you. The hearing, the speed-healing…all of it.”

“Peter,” his name was a soft sigh off your lips. The offer alone was tempting because you really were curious to know what happened to him when he showed up with mysterious cuts and bruises. It broke your heart to see him whenever he had some sort of injury, but they always seemed to go away without any sort of permanence. 

“You can tell me anything, sweetheart. You know that,” he reached over and touched your face, brushing his thumb over your cheek. 

“I know,” you nodded softly, “I want to tell you…really, I do. I just don’t want you…you’re going to think I sound crazy. I mean, it still sounds crazy to me.”

“I’ve dealt with plenty of crazy,” he smiled softly, “I doubt anything you could say or do would fall into the realm of crazy. Try me, sweetheart.”

“Okay,” you nodded, “but don’t laugh o-or whatever, promise?”

“I promise,” he agreed, crossing his fingers over his heart.

“Alright,” you swallowed thickly, “a while back I was…I don’t know….I guess bitten by something. It was just a small, you know, bite, but it never got infected or anything weird. So you know, I didn’t think anything of it. But then…these changes started to happen and I thought for sure I was losing my mind or whatever. But nothing ever…happened, nothing weird. But the weird things it did to me stayed. Like the hearing, and my vision got really good, better reflexes and the super fast healing too. That’s why I’m not worried about the cut - it’ll be helped soon.”

“Hmm,” he seemed so calm and relaxed that it caught you off guard. Why wasn’t he panicking? He studied intently but said nothing, only trailing his fingers gently down your arm.

“Y-you’re not…freaking out?”

“No,” he shook his head, his pretty eyes glinting in the soft light, “where were you when you were…bitten?”

“Umm,” you waved your hand around softly, “somewhere near Oscorp. I don’t remember exactly.”

“Do you know what it was?”

“No, I never saw it,” you confessed, “I just sort of assumed it was a weird bug.”

“Are you ready to hear my secret?” he asked softly and your eyes widened in curiosity as you nodded, “I’m Spider-Man.”

As soon as you heard the words, your mouth opened in surprise but he just remained there calmly. When he didn’t say anything you started to laugh; he had to be kidding, right? He had to be. But he wasn’t laughing - he just remained serious. 

“Peter,” you shook your head in amusement, “Spider-Man? Really? Y-you’re joking! Right?”

“Nope,” the corner of his mouth ticked up in a small smile, “I mean it.”

“I-is that why…all the bruises and everything?” your disbelief turned to worry as you thought about all the terrible things that could happen to him, “oh Peter.”

“Relax, sweetheart,” his hand went to your neck as he gently stroked his thumb over your soft skin, “I’m okay. I’ll be okay. I’m Spider-Man, nothing’s gonna get me. Do you want to hear my theory on what happened to you?”

“Yes.”

“I think we might have been visited by a similar…friendly spider,” he raised an eyebrow at the surprised look on your face, “I was bitten by a spider at Oscorp. They had some…to put it simply, radioactive spiders. I wasn’t born with these abilities, and apparently neither were you.”

“No,” you couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. This didn’t happen to normal people - this stuff didn’t really happen period. And yet, here the two of you were, “holy fuck, Peter.”

“Yeah,” he shook his own head in amusement, “who would have thought, huh? I knew you were special - well, even before now. I…I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you too, Peter,” you beamed at him, “hey - if you’re Spider-Man, does that make me…Spider-Girl? Spider-Woman? Wait, I don’t want to be a vigilante superhero…well, maybe? If you need a sidekick? What if-”

But he cut you off by pressing his lips to yours and kissing you softly and sweetly, leaving you breathless as he had a tendency to. When you pulled back, he smiled at you, and touched your cheek, “I love you, Spider-Girl.”

“I love you, Spider-Man,” you stole another few kisses from him, which left him practically melting into your touch. 

“Have you ever tried wall climbing?” 

“No…”

“Well, you’re in for a treat!”

#tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker x fem!reader #tasm!peter parker x you #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!peter one shot #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker x you #peter parker one shot #peter parker imagine #andrew garfield #andrew garfield x you

[sailortongue]

As YOU Wish

pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

wc: 1.1k

summary: on the search for a particular book, you have a brief encounter with the owner of a local bookstore. But perhaps the ex-FBI agent also finds himself in search of something more after meeting you

cw: based on the netflix show You so Spencer is a red flag here

an: my cousin wrote the summary and it sounds so cute i had half a mind to rewrite this to just be an innocent meet cute

--------

The bell above the door chimed, signaling to Spencer that a customer had arrived—the first of the day, actually. He glanced up from the register to see a young woman about his age enter. Beautiful, he thought. He was taking in every aspect of your appearance as quickly as he could. The way you styled your hair, the color of your eyes, the worn-out pair of Converse that rivaled his own pair. He shook his head once to clear his thoughts, not wanting to embarrass himself before he even had the chance to ask for your name.

He plastered a smile on his face and greeted you with a “good morning”.

“Good morning,” you said, returning the smile.

Spencer watched you roam around the store, seemingly browsing more than looking for anything in particular. He noticed the way you gently ran your fingers over the spines of some of the books before pulling them from the shelves to read their summaries. Definitely cherishes her books. But no matter what book you pulled, it was always returned to its place. Spencer began taking notice of the way your eyes roved the many titles available, a small frown becoming more and more prominent the more you looked. Maybe you are looking for something. He voiced his thoughts aloud and called out, “Can I help you find anything?”

You turned to face the admittedly very handsome employee. The smile you gave him this time was one of embarrassment, feeling unreasonably foolish that he’d noticed you struggling to find what you were looking for. From Spencer’s point of view though, that embarrassment looked an awful lot like shyness, which was easily interpreted as interest. Hopefully as much as he had in you.

“Yes, please. I’m trying to find The Princess Bride,” you answered.

Spencer thought about it for a moment, trying to remember if it was in the fantasy, adventure, or romance section. “It is . . .” he started, dragging out the last syllable as he walked farther into the shelves with you following close behind. “right here,” he finished, gesturing to the book in question.

“Thank you!” you exclaimed excitedly. Just before you were going to reach for it, an idea struck you. You hoped and prayed that he’d understand, otherwise you’d just be embarrassing yourself again. Should that happen, you'd simply never come back to this store and would probably dwell on it for the rest of your life. You decided to take the chance anyway. “Fetch me that book?” you asked him.

Spencer looked at you incredulously. Is she serious? The shelf is barely above her head, she could reach it with no pro— 

He chuckled as he realized what you were referencing. He grinned down at you as he pulled the book from the shelf. “As you wish.”

You giggled as he handed it to you. “So happy you understood that. I think I would have died of shame if you didn’t.”

That got a true laugh out of the handsome man.  “I’ll admit it took me a second to get it, but that was perfect. Have you read it before or just watched the movie?”

“I’ve read it before, but my copy has up and vanished. It’s one of my favorites, so it was imperative that I get another one.”

He nods as if in understanding but his expression is one of confusion. “If it’s one of your favorites, then how did you lose it?”

“I just moved here recently. Went through all of my boxes but still can’t find it, so I’ve chalked it up to it getting lost in the move.”

“Well then, I’m glad to have been of assistance. Is that all you were looking for today?”

“For today, yes, but I’ll definitely be back. I don't think I’ve ever been in a bookstore as cozy as this one.”

Spencer beamed at you, pleased with your praise of the shop he’d worked so hard to establish. “Thank you. I worked very hard to make it that way.”

You looked at him quizzically. “You designed the shop?”

“No, I own it,” he said humorously. “Spencer Reid, owner of Reid’s Reads. It’s nice to meet you,” he introduced himself, even going as far as to offer you his hand, which ordinarily he’d never do. But the thought of initiating any kind of skin-to-skin contact was too thrilling to pass up.

“I’m Y/n, it’s nice to meet you, too,” you said, shaking the hand he’d offered.

“If that’s all you need then I can go ahead and get you checked out?” His eyes were wide and expressive as he looked to you for confirmation.

“Oh. Right.” Heat rose to your cheeks unbidden and you tried your best to keep your emotions in check. But unbeknownst to you, Spencer was a former FBI agent that specialized in such things, not to mention a certified genius. How cute. She’s blushing again. He also took note of the poorly hidden upturn of your lips. Why so shy? Just smile at me, sweetheart. 

He gestured for you to walk ahead of him. “Ladies first.”

He followed behind you to the register, glad for the opportunity to check you out in more ways than one.

You placed the book on the counter, and Spencer resumed his position behind the register. He scanned the book and read out the price to you. Pay with a card. Pay with a card. Pay with a card. he chanted mentally. 

Bingo. You pulled the piece of plastic from your wallet and handed it to him. He read the name as subtly as he could. You’d given him your first name, but a first name wouldn't be enough to find you online. He swiped your card and bagged your book, making sure to let his hand brush against yours as he handed the items to you.

“It was nice meeting you, Y/n. Do come again.”

“Oh, I will. Have a good day!” you said as you were leaving, giving him a small wave. The bell chimed as the door was opened again, and his eyes remained on your figure as he watched you through the large windows at the front of the store until you were out of sight.

With your full name now committed to memory, he planned on finding every trace of you online that he could as soon as he was home from work. He was no Penelope Garcia, but this wasn't something he particularly wanted the FBI involved in.

And so, for the rest of the day, his thoughts were consumed with only one thing: you.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader

[realisticjupiter]

Hiii I hope you're doing well this fine evening:) I was wondering if you can write chishiya that notice this one beach resident (reader) that keeps staring at him and at first he thinks that she's planning some evil schemes or something but no he just finds out with his super detective skills she's drawing him. Alot. And ends up confronting her about it. Thank you sooo much xoxo.

ꔫ ⸝⸝ summary: chishiya always seemed to catch you in the act. what was the act? he needed to know.

ꔫ ⸝⸝ pairing: chishiya x gn!reader

ꔫ ⸝⸝ genre: fluff

ꔫ ⸝⸝ warnings: none

ꔫ ⸝⸝ word count: 931

A/N: this was a little rushed but i hope you still like it!

It started off as what Chishiya hoped to be a coincidence. When he'd catch your gaze and you'd walk away; like a guilty dog.

He could tell you've gained more confidence when you'd stare right back at him and continue the soft movements of your wrist on the notebook you had laid on your lap.

Then it became more frequent, like you'd been following him and knew everywhere he'd be.

At some point he thought he was the one following you.

He couldn't pull away when he saw you again. Up on a balcony with the ability to look at every other beach resident, but every time you looked up--your eyes were on him.

He had given you the nickname 'Stalker' when talking to Kuina about it. And Kuina happened to be the one who put the paranoid thought that you were plotting an evil scheme against him.

Honestly, it could make sense. The constant writing, the more frequent encounters. What else would it be?

Chishiya, the curious cat. Far too curious for his own good the way he made his way back inside the Beach. Fast and large footsteps going towards where he saw you. Hoping he'd catch you before you'd disappear again.

But just with his luck, the chair you once sat in was empty. He took smaller steps to walk deeper inside the balcony, looking down to see your perspective.

Chishiya turned around, eyeing the chair that he wanted to stuff in an evidence bag and get it tested for anything and everything to figure out who you were.

He kneeled down, bringing his hand out to grab onto the black piece that felt like chalk on his fingers.

It was charcoal. Why did you have charcoal?

And as smart as Chishiya was. He now realized every theory he had, was now wrong just by this small piece in his hand.

He stood back up, studying the charcoal under his intimidating gaze as if it would talk to him with words.

You were an artist. At least, that's what it seemed like. Someone plotting on his demise wouldn't be writing a plan in charcoal. But rather draw a picture, like a face they could see daily.

That was his face.

Now he really wanted to find you; more than before. He wanted to ask you if he was right, and then maybe you'd show him your art with a smile.

He thought about that charcoal piece since he had woken up. And he realized maybe he could see the way other people viewed him, outside of his life and onto a piece of paper.

Catching you in the act seemed easy in his mind. He went to the same place every morning, and he'd see you there too. But instead of being on his side of the room, he'd sneak up behind you. Startle you, then help you up before taking that charcoal piece out of his pocket and into your view.

Sometimes he scared himself how easy it was to predict other people's moves, it felt like he had some sort of superpower.

Because that's exactly what happened.

You jumped to the sound of his voice, "Stalking again?" His voice husky, but soft as he spoke with a grin.

"Maybe?" You spoke as if it was question towards him, afraid you had made him uncomfortable.

"Maybe?" His grin grew larger when he quoted your words back to you, bringing out that charcoal piece you left behind.

You put on a shy smile when you saw it, reaching your hand out to grab it before he pulled away.

"It took me a while to find out what you were doing." Chishiya spoke, looking around your body to try and spot that notebook you carried around.

"It's only fair you show me what you were really doing." He cleared his throat after the words left his mouth, his eyes going back to yours to study your expression.

"That's true..." You chuckled, "I guess that is fair." You sighed, taking the notebook out of the satchel that rested on your body.

You handed it to him. You didn't need to show him a certain page, the entire notebook was just filled with him and maybe someone who was standing beside him if you got bored.

He noticed a few of him and Kuina, noticing the perfect strokes of led or charcoal that stained the white pages.

"These are better than I thought they would be." He hummed honestly, slowly flicking through the pages and taking in everything they offered.

"Thanks." You nodded, "Sorry if I made you uncomfortable... Or anything. I'm not good at talking to people. And you're quite satisfying to draw." You explained through a nervous lump in your throat. Your fingers fidgeting with each other as they rested above your thigh.

"I'm not uncomfortable." He shook his head, finally peeling his eyes away to look at yours. "I thought you were trying to kill me at first." He shrugged, looking back down.

"Oh," You nervously laughed, trying to wait patiently for him to hand it back.

"Where'd you learn how to draw?" He asked curiously, finally closing the notebook and handing it back to your shaking hands.

You shrugged, "Just something I taught myself over the years." You explained, stuffing the notebook into your bag.

"If you ever draw me again, you should show me." He wasn't suggesting it, he was hoping it.

You nodded before watching him walk away, only realizing he hadn't given the charcoal piece to you until he was out of sight.

reposts and comments are appreciated <3

#realisticjupiter #rocky's chishiya fics #alice in borderland #aib #alice in borderland fandom #imawa no kuni no alice #fanfiction #writing #fanfic #alice in boderland x reader #chishiya #chishiya alice in borderland #aib chishiya #shuntaro chishiya #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya x reader #chishiya x you #chishiya x gn!reader #chishiya x y/n #chishiya fic #chishiya fanfic #chishiya fluff

[jen-with-a-pen]

ALL TIED UP - THREE

Previous ⊹ Series

summary: Steve already feels like a fish out of water at the gym. An encounter with a girl and Bucky leaves him gasping for air and grasping for what the hell is going on behind Bucky's frat boy facade. At least he gets some sweet relief, some coffee, and some courage, when he see his favorite barista.

pairings: Art Student!Frat Brother!Steve Rogers x Film Student!Sorority Sister!Reader

word count: 2.5k

warnings: implied misogyny (Bucky and Sam really are Frat Bros™), gym gains + weight mention, Steve's just trying his best, fake crying, possessiveness + demanding obedience, Steve should try to listen to his gut more, successful attempts at flirting

a/n: i'm pleased to be able to finally introduce our reader from steve's pov! i can't wait until i can share her side of the story with you all ♥ enjoy! also a just-in-case thank you to those who have been patient with my posting. i know my masterlist currently has a schedule, but after an abrupt work trip and conference following, i got thrown off by a week. shoulda known better 😅

The most specialest of special thanks to two of my loves @vonalyn and @lunarbuck for helping me flesh out this idea and enable me in my destruction ♥ i owe you both a beefy alpha soon

gif by @/paliaphrodite | additional graphics + dividers by me ♥

my ao3 | my masterlist | all tied up masterlist Read this fic HERE on ao3! ♥Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated as always♥

Last Tuesday.

Sweat drips down Steve’s neck as he finishes out his bench presses. Endorphins and dopamine ooze into his bloodstream as his face flushes, driving him to push one more time to beat his personal record. His heart races from excitement as his arms extend, biceps bulging under the 210-pound barbell, pushing it up for the final rep of his set. At last, he reracks the weights and a proud smile spreads easily across his lips.

Going from 175 lbs to 225 lbs in the span of only a month was the last thing Steve expected upon coming to Richards. He wasn’t scrawny by any means before– in fact, as his mother consistently had to remind him, puberty had been exceptionally kind to him, going from five-foot-eight to a cool six-foot-two in just the last two years of high school– but, thanks to the daily regimens Bucky and Sam personalized for each of the brothers, Steve began to see real gains. Real changes. For the better, even he would admit. His jaw became sharper. His chest grew broader. His arms were now just a tad too tight for his own t-shirts. 

“‘s all thanks to those prime Sigma genes!” Sam once told Steve while spotting him during one of the first sessions of the semester. Steve couldn’t tell if he was joking about their greek letters or not, so he shook the comment off and chalked it up to ‘Sam being Sam.’ Him and Bucky constantly preached the superiority of ‘Sigma Males,’ regardless if anyone was listening. 

Steve never believed in that bullshit. His Ma would keel over if he ever even thought  about that kind of concept. 

Steve sits up, grabbing his sweat rag and water bottle next to the bench. Taking a long drink, his mind flips through through the schedule for the day: Drawing, then Astronomy and Art History back to back; a mandatory check in with his advisor; lunch or dinner somewhere in between; finally, some sports event-party-thing that Bucky and Sam were adamant the entire house hosts. On a Tuesday. 

Steve huffs, rising from the bench and mopping the beads of hot sweat trailing down his temples. He needs to shower quickly in order to make it to class on time, especially if he wants to stop for coffee in the quad. 

Not that the coffee is worth the detour on the way to class, in all honesty, but the comforting sight of the usual barista behind the counter is. 

Since his first day on campus, something about her has drawn him to the cafe as often as possible. Eventually, they began small talk– well, she started the small talk. Gradually, they started chatting about more than just the weather. Then it became ‘what’d you get on the calc test?’ or ‘hey are you going to the football game?’. Her voice, her laugh, her quiet humming as she prepares orders regularly echoes in Steve’s mind. Her soft, kind eyes and warm smile is burned so deeply into his memory that he’s started drawing her. He doodles in the corner of his notes, sketches on napkins and newspapers, paints watercolor daydreams covering certain pages of his sketchbooks. All of them are her. 

He can’t recall for the life of him how it came to be this way. It all happened so suddenly, so gradually.

Over the last few weeks, Steve found himself walking just a touch faster, leaving just a couple minutes earlier, to make sure he can stop by and see her before class. To him, she’s a breath of fresh air, a break from the cloud of testosterone and stress the frat house always keeps him in.

No matter what, she always makes his day just a little bit brighter.

She knows his order before he even makes it to the counter. She knows which classes to ask him about and on what days. She knows writing his name with a smiley face on his cup will make him tip just a little extra, just because she drew it. 

She knows him.

Yet, he can’t exactly say the same about her.

Steve bites his lip, so incredibly caught up in thoughts of his coffee shop crush, he doesn’t realize where he’s walking until he runs smack into another body. Hard.

“Oof–Hey!” 

The girl in front of him falls to the floor, dropping her phone, rag, and water bottle. Her headphones slip off her head, landing amongst the scattered remains of what she’d been holding. 

“What the fuck–!”

“Oh, shit! I-I’m so sorry, lemme–” Steve bends down, offering her a free hand and genuine concern on his face. The girl’s eyes widen and she freezes when she looks up at him. The next thing Steve knows, she’s opening her mouth and getting ready to scream. Panic surges through him and he, too, becomes frozen in place, unsure of what else to do when there’s a soon-to-be-screaming girl in the middle of a crowded gym of frat bros.

Before her scream spills out of her throat, Steve hears a familiar voice behind him.

“Shay? What the hell happened?” Bucky appears, jogging from a machine around the corner. The moment he sees Steve bent over her– Shay, apparently– there’s a darkness that falls over his face as he approaches them. 

“He–he–!” Shay hiccups from the ground, bottom lip stuck out in a pout and trembling ever so slightly. Her jacket hangs off her shoulder, half-zipped and barely covering her tanned and toned stomach, and her neat, platinum blonde hair remains in tidy braids plaited down to her shoulders. It’s as if she merely tripped on a rogue water bottle or an untied shoelace. Steve’s throat tightens.  

“Bucky, I-I bumped into her, it was an accident, I was just helpin’ her up, I–”

Bucky stops. His shoulders are heaving, chest puffed out, and hands balled into tight fists at his sides. His dark expression makes him look terrifying. Steve’s never seen him like this before. 

Steve swears he hears Bucky growl. 

It takes a moment, but upon finally realizing it’s only Steve, Bucky backs down and calms almost instantly. His expression neutralizes into his usual suave smirk as he runs a hand through his cropped hair. 

“Shay,” Bucky turns his focus to the girl still splayed on the floor. There’s a commanding undertone in his voice, something more dominant, more forceful, than Steve’s ever heard.

“B-but h-he,” Shay babbles on, “he pushed me!” Her cheeks are dry, eyes white without bloodshot or fresh tears. Her lip stays pouting, mimicking a stubborn toddler as she blubbers to Bucky. 

“No, he didn’t. He didn’t do anything other than bump into you.” Bucky takes a step forward. “Right, Stevie?” His hand clamps onto Steve’s shoulder. His grip digs deep, tighter than usual. Steve nods quickly.

“Y-yeah, I, uh, wasn’t lookin’ where I was goin’ and I-I just didn’t, uh, see her.” 

Bucky gives him a once over, his vice-like grip weighing on Steve like a two-ton barbell. He slowly nods to himself and takes his eyes off Steve, turning to Shay. Steve holds his gaze on Bucky, however, studying him for a second more. He notices the extremely subtle way Bucky is almost looking down on her. Something about Bucky’s eyes, the shift in his jaw, sends a phantom chill up Steve’s spine.

“C’mon, Shay. Get up.”

“But! But, Bucky! He–!”

“You heard me. Get. Up.”

Shay sucks her lip back in and reluctantly obeys as she collects her things and stands. Even with his eyes closed, Steve realizes he wouldn’t have been able to notice Shay’s petite, five-foot-something frame standing in front of him. She barely came up to the middle of his chest. How had he not seen her in his way? 

“Now,” Bucky continues, “apologize to Steve.” 

Shay scoffs, breaking her show of obedience. She gives Steve a not-so-subtle once-over. Her nose ring wrinkles in the crevice of her nostril as her lips curl into a snarl. She crosses her arms, cocking a hip and copping an attitude.

“Why should I–”

Bucky abruptly lets go of Steve’s shoulder and moves swiftly to stand directly behind Shay. His large hands snake around her waist and Steve can tell he squeezes her, hard, by the sudden, sharp inhale she takes. Her smug, bratty expression disappears immediately as Bucky leans down to the cusp of her ear, lips brushing against the silver rings and studs of piercings littering her cartilage.

“Steve is a brother, Shay. Now, apologize so we can let him leave and we can start your workout.” Bucky’s hands dig tighter into her waist. Steve’s stomach churns. 

“I,” Shay sucks in another sharp breath and plasters on a forced smile. “I’m sorry, Steve.” 

Bucky releases Shay and steps in front of her. Her hands fold around her stomach to cover the fingerprint marks bruising the sides of her stomach, gaze turning down to the floor at Bucky’s feet. Steve can see over Bucky’s shoulder that her lip is trembling. Genuinely, this time.

“Hey.”

Bucky’s tone snaps Steve’s focus back to him. Steve feels like a deer caught in front of a stopped car as Bucky studies him. The corners of his tight smile twitch into a smirk.

“I’ll see ya tonight, right, Stevie? Don’t forget, it’s baseball night.”

“Erm, yeah. Right. I’ll be there, Buck.”

Bucky winks at him, confirming some undisclosed agreement between them. Steve’s stomach backflips again.

Steve turns to finally leave, quickly making his way to the locker rooms, desperately wanting to shower off the uncomfortable ick clinging to him after whatever the hell that interaction was.

◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ 

The door to the café chimes as Steve swings it open. The short line of customers turn to face him along with the barista at the counter. Steve stops mid-stride, panting from his sprint over from the gym. Sure, he’s got class in ten minutes, and it’s a fifteen minute walk to the art school, but he’s convinced himself he needs coffee and his daily dose of sunshine before continuing on with his day– especially after the whole ordeal in the gym earlier. 

The barista grins at Steve. She mouths a ‘hi’ as she scribbles down the name for the current customer’s cup. Steve sighs, waving back and taking his place in line.

Admittedly, he was more worried than he thought about catching his favorite barista today. He chalks the anxiety up to the weird encounter with Bucky and Shay– the whole thing felt so wrong, so off. Everything about the way Bucky treated her, talked to her, how she acted before versus after Bucky got behind her– it rubbed Steve wrong in so many ways. He’s never seen or heard Bucky talk like that to anyone before. Not to Sam, not to Tony, or Clint, or even any of the random girls that show face at parties. He doesn’t know if he’s ever seen Shay around before, either. Something about the way she stood after, the stark contrast in her behavior, the way she tried to blame Steve for something he didn’t do. 

“Can I help ya, stranger?” 

The familiar voice brings Steve back from his clouded thoughts. She smiles warmly at him and he melts on the spot. 

“I, uh–”

She giggles. 

“I know your order already, silly. Is there anything else you’d like today?”

“N-no, uh, I’m good,” he stammers, sliding his card into the chip reader. “I just, uh–”

She cocks a brow, looking up at him from writing his name on the cup. Steve clears his throat, unsure why he’s suddenly stuttering at someone he sees everyday.

“Just, ah, needed to see you, honestly.”

He feels his cheeks automatically burn as he fumbles to put his card back in his wallet. He pulls out a couple ones and drops them in the tip jar for extra brownie points. 

The barista’s eyes sparkle, holding her gaze on Steve. It’s a nice change, to see warmth instead of ulterior motives behind someone else’s gaze. He can tell she’s biting back a smile of her own as she finishes writing on his cup. 

“Well, the feeling is mutual,” she says. “I honestly was beginning to think you weren’t comin’ in today.”

A fake pout crosses her lips before returning to a soft smile. She moves to the espresso machine and begins to make him a double shot. Steve scoffs a laugh, cheeks still burning. He shoves his hands in his pockets. 

His heart skips, flips, in his chest.

“Ha, I, uh, got caught up at the gym.”

“Ah, so you’re one of those meathead gym bros, huh?”

Steve places a hand over his heart, jokingly wounded.

“Ouch! Wow, you’re really hittin’ where it hurts this mornin’, huh?”

She giggles, prepping the milk for his drink. “I kid, I kid. I respect the grind! Especially when steroids are in such high demand these days.” She flashes him a knowing smirk as she continues to move about the coffee bar. 

Steve grins, shaking his head. He can’t believe her. He can’t get enough of her– her laugh, her voice, the way she looks at him. He stares at her for a moment, admiring the focus in her eyes as she meticulously finishes his drink, the curve of her lips when she’s satisfied with her work. 

Steve is still staring when she appears at the counter to give him his drink. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

Steve flushes again and presses his lips together, muttering an embarrassed apologizing. Before she turns to go, before he’s forced to continue on with his day until he sees her again tomorrow, a thought pops into the forefront of his mind. Before he knows it, his voice is working faster than his brain can. 

“Hey, my-my frat is throwing a party this weekend at, uh, our house,” he starts, mouth instantly going dry. “Would, um, you like to maybe come?” 

She stops. Her brow arches, mouth opening and closing without a word. She looks at Steve, really looks at him, studying him as an answer brews on her tongue. 

Steve panics. “I-if not that’s totally fine, I, um, I just thought that–”

“Yes.”

Steve’s train of thought instantaneously derails.

“You–you… yes?” He repeats. She scoffs a laugh and nods. 

“No promises, but yes. I’ll try to be there.”

Steve’s face hurts from smiling. 

“Awesome! Great! I, uh, yes!” Steve confirms again. 

Before he can say ‘yes’ for the tenth time, she pulls a marker out of her apron pocket and grabs his cup again, scribbling something on the backside. As she turns back to the coffee bar, Steve picks up his cup and turns it over. His eyes land on a smudged phone number followed by a tiny, smudged heart. He looks up, finding her gaze again, and melts as she bites her lip.

“Text me, meathead.”

Steve beams. Any and all words he’s ever known disappear from his mind. 

“I can do that.”

As Steve leaves the cafe, he doesn’t care about being late to class as he enters her number into his phone. He doesn’t care about what the brothers will say come Friday when he introduces the first girl– the first person– he’s ever brought to a party. 

He sips his drink, smiling to himself, knowing it’s the best damn cup of coffee he’s ever had. 

#All Tied Up #All Tied Up Series #Big Red Bow Series #Steve Rogers POV #Steve's POV #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #college!au #modern!au #steve rogers series #slowburn #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #fic #jen writes #chris evans characters #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans captain america #chris evans steve rogers #reader insert #chris evans series #au #college au

[interlunium-opus]

▶︎ DANCING WITH THE DEVIL. [Sunghoon.]

Abstract: You've always felt it in your guts that something is off about the campus heartthrob, Park Sunghoon. Being more of a rational person however, you tried to bury such gut instincts, chalking the dislike towards his wealth and pretty privilege instead. Not that your feelings matter though, you two are two world's apart, which means you two are bound to never get any closer. That is, until an ill-timed encounter with him at a party seemingly have led your worlds to collide because since then, he grew into a looming presence in your daily life. He was always around and always watching. The more you tried to avoid him, the closer he got and eventually you were forced to spend more time with him than you ever wished to. The more time you spent with him though the more you discovered that he was far from the arrogant airhead you pictured him to be, he was in fact, smarter and more diligent compared to the average Joe. In other words, your negative impression of him all these while had never been more wrong. Or so you thought. Because of the rare times your gut instincts turn out to be correct, it was actually for this one too -- but by the time you realize it, you already had your guards down.

Genre: vampire!sunghoon | horror | thriller | fantasy |||| wc: ~21.1k

Warnings: blood; slight suggestiveness; mentions of crimes (missing persons, murder, serial killings); manipulation.

Taglist: @axartia

“He’s staring at you again,” Sunoo, your bestfriend, whispered, “Park Sunghoon, I mean.”

You followed Sunoo’s gaze and indeed staring back at you from across the lecture theatre was the campus heartthrob, Park Sunghoon, with gaze unflinching even after you had caught him staring. What a psychopath, you thought to yourself when suddenly, as if reading your thoughts, one corner of his mouth lifted forming a coy smirk, catching you off guard and forcing you to break the eye contact. 

This was in fact not the first time that he had seemingly engaged you in some sort of silent unprovoked and unsolicited rounds of staring contest. It was the third time for this week alone. So far however, you hadn’t been winning — not especially when his stare had always have this sort of unexplainable intensity that pierces right into you, in spite of the distance, as if threatening to bore holes into the back of your mind. Perhaps that is what people were talking about when they harp about just how ‘magnetic’ or ‘hypnotising’ his gaze are. Though to you they felt rather unnerving and invasive. Like that of an old painting whose eyes seem to follow you wherever you move in the room.

“it’s all in your head Sunoo,” you replied dismissively, shifting your attention back to the board where the professor had just written down some important takeaways from last week's reading on Hobbes' Leviathan.  

“You wish it was. Pretty boy is still staring by the way,” Sunoo clicked his tongue, “at this point, either you had crossed him or he’s got a crush on you.”

“That’s a whole load of rubbish,” you elbowed Sunoo, trying to get him to shut up so you can continue concentrating in class and stop hearing anything about Sunghoon especially when you already get an earful on the daily from his horde of fangirls who are always singing praises about his looks, his stature, his manner and his wealth. Unlike the rest of the campus though, you have never had a good impression of Sunghoon. Born with both good looks and wealth, no example best display wealth and pretty privilege better in campus than him and his pretty friends who struts around in campus clad in all designers with special parking spaces reserved for their Teslas, Benz and Beemers while also having a whole room in campus dedicated for their hangouts like some sort of a secret student society.

Now and then though, in between the blind praises, you can hear wicked rumours spoken in whispers about these boys: their underground and political connections; all the drugs and booze; nepotism; and the list goes on. It’s unsurprising just how rumour-abound these boys are though. Afterall, not much is known about their families except that they are rich and powerful that no one in their right mind would dare to cross them. Legends are abound of what befell those who did cross them or their family, none of which end well: they either fall to the bottom rung of society or disappear off the face of the earth. 

“And he is still staring, go figure,” Sunoo scoffed, leaning back on his seat with arms crossed, looking offended as if he had been the one getting the stare down,  “You sure you haven’t done anything y/n?”

“Dude, what could I possibly have done when all I do is stay cooped up in the library or at home?” you retorted as a matter-of-factly. That was however a lie — though only partially. Truth to be told, you had a vague assumption as to why Sunghoon has been shooting daggers through his eyes at you. You believed it could be traced back to a party hosted two weeks ago by Jay Park, one of those influential one in Sunghoon’s circle, which Sunoo had dragged you into.

Long story short, in an attempt to escape the rowdy crowd, you wandered around their bachelor pad in search of quieter corners only to stumble upon Sunghoon making out with the Cheer Captain in one of the empty living rooms upstairs. You remember scoffing at the sight, suddenly reminded of all the A’s Sunghoon has gotten for all his Economic modules despite his absences in classes. Well, that’s a no brainer since he’s dating the Faculty Head’s daughter, you thought to yourself, still grimacing at the sight of her straddling his lap with her head thrown back as he feverishly buried his head on the crook of her neck. 

Sunoo would have loved a shot of this for his gossip column, you thought to yourself when suddenly you feel something shifting in the atmosphere. The next thing you knew, Sunghoon had lifted his head up, his eyes meeting yours immediately and directly in such a chilling precision as if he knew exactly that you had been standing right there and watching. In that instance, you swore, you felt the temperature in the room drop while the lighting around the hall grew dimmer. You remember swallowing thickly and backing up slowly, feeling small under the weight of his intense gaze and what seemed like an inhuman glint in his eyes which had sent shivers down your spine. You took off not long after, out of the hallway, out of the loft, not even bothering to tell Sunoo that you were leaving early.

That was when it all started, you reckoned. Because since then, you turned from seemingly being invisible to him to being in his radar.  Whenever your eyes accidentally landed on him in campus, you’d find that he was already staring but unlike any normal person who would have immediately stared away, he would maintain the eye contact as if wanting you to know that he had been meaning to stare. His lips would then often twist into a wry smile as if taunting you. It was as confusing as it was annoying because with all the stare down, it was almost as if you had witnessed him murdering the girl rather than making out with her. 

“I have a really bad feeling about this though,” Sunoo grumbled, interrupting your train of thoughts.

You scoffed, “I’ve told you a million times before that his vibes are always off — not that you’ve ever believed me anyway.”

Whatever, it will pass, you reassure yourself. 

Except it didn’t and nothing could have prepared you for just how badly things would unravel with Sunghoon.

“I just saw the announcement on the board earlier,” you said the moment you took a seat next to Sunoo the next day in Macroeconomics class, “the cheer captain got replaced?”

“Whoa whoa whoa, who are you and what have you done with y/n? She would be caught dead reading announcements from that corner of the hallway — if anything she’d be frequenting the notice board next to the City Hall instead — the one with the missing people and whatnot,” Sunoo remarked sarcastically before schooling his expressions after you shot him a glare, “I’m sorry. I repent.”

“Anyways, as I was saying, isn’t the match coming? Why is she suddenly getting replaced?” You repeated, taking your laptop out as more students rushed into the lecture theatre, filling it up with cacophony of noises.

“Well, the official story is that she fell off the pyramid and broke her leg. Since the match is coming, they can’t afford a limping captain can they? So off she went,” Sunoo answered sassily before smirking, “would you like to hear what I heard through the grapevine instead?”

“No-“

“Heard girlie is pregnant,” Sunoo cut you off, flashing a triumphant grin.

“Dude,” you gasped, looking around to make sure no one had heard it, “what did I say about rumors — if you don’t see it with your own eyes or hear it with your own ears, you pipe it not spread it.”

“Uh, if the shoe fits,” Sunoo quipped with a shrug, “Also, come on. I write one of the most highly-demanded columns in our campus newspaper so my sources are reputable.”

“Define reputable,” you answered sarcastically but Sunoo just ignored you as he began again, “As I was saying, she has been acting all sorts of weird lately — lethargic, forgetful, dazed — well you name it. She hardly attended practice and when she did, she could not execute her moves well at all. The next thing you know, she fell off the pyramid and broke her leg. Since the competition is coming up, they can’t be waiting around for her so they decided to swap the cheer captain. Must be devastating for her though — girlie is so ambitious to top everything, the cheer, and social circle and well, it’s all dust now. Doubt Sunghoon would stick around anymore, that boy got the hots only for the IT girls and well, she’s a has been now.”

“Good morning class,” the professor entered the room, silencing everyone almost immediately, including you two. All of sudden, the image of the cheer captain feverishly making out with Sunghoon from the other night popped into your mind. Your eyebrows knit in disgust at the memory.

“Anyways, maybe that’s why Sunghoon has got the hots for you as of late,” Sunoo giggled, jutting his chin out forward, beckoning you to follow his gaze. To your horror, sitting across of you in the front row, at the opposite side of the theatre, was Sunghoon, already staring back at you.

“I just realised that he has been taking front row seats too as of late, just across of us. They have always sat at the back, or just didn’t show up at all. Coincidence? Me think not," Sunoo winked at you, smirking mischievously.

“Can you stop? He is not staring at me," You rolled your eyes with disdain, "and I don't know why they have started to sit at the front. Maybe they've come to their senses and have started to realise that they should work hard in classes like the rest of us instead of bloody buying their way in all-”

“Y/N.” 

You jolted slightly in your seat, startled, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. You bit your lower lip anxiously, wondering if the professor had called your name out to reprimand you for talking in class. Fortunately, that was not the case. Instead, you became this week's victim for his usual surprise Q&A, "Last week we spoke about policy dilemmas especially in this era of new normal. Based on the reading I have asked you guys to do, what do you think is the best policy prescription that countries can adopt now considering the persistency of volatilities?” 

“You got this girl,” Sunoo quickly whispered while giving your hand a quick squeeze for support. You squeezed it back, before standing up to answer the professor's question, "At this stage, whether we like it or not, fiscal stimulus is highly needed because the inflation represents like a double-whammy to a the battered society. If we don’t help protect people’s rights to an adequate living standard in light of current situation, not only will their welfare be heavily compromised but the economy would slide into a recession due to the stalling demand which would leave the government with more thorny problems to solve.”

The professor nodded in agreement. As he opened his mouth to praise your answer however, another hand rose up from the crowd — it was Park Sunghoon. 

“Sorry Professor, I’m sure that that is indeed a true solution for certain times but we are potentially entering a new era in which inflation levels might stay elevated so if we continue to cater for the masses through fiscal stimulus — we’d be chasing pavements especially since the problem are also heavily driven by supply-side constraints. If anything, I believe it is time to pull back on the demand-side to lessen the pressure on prices,” Sunghoon explained, his eyes fixated on you throughout as if it had been a two-person debate with you instead. As soon as he finished, the corners of his lips twisted into a smug grin as if proclaiming victory. Unlike other times when you stared away, this time you held his gaze. Your brows furrowing in vehemence as this had been the umpteenth time that he had raised his hand to counter your points.

Normally, you wouldn’t even bat an eye to it. After all, you love listening and engaging in healthy debates. But with Park Sunghoon, it felt oddly personal, like he was trying to one-up you at everything — as if he had got a personal vendetta against you. Just like his unsolicited staring contests, he had begun countering any points you present forward, turning a simple Q&A from the professor to you, into a debate between you and him — an unsolicited debate, that is. Regardless of the modules, he would always find a contrasting argument to yours — trying to beat you as if someone was keeping score. 

Calmly you argued back, “I agree that that is a good argument against the use of fiscal stimulus but we are not facing just another one-off policy problem. We are also in a crisis. If we don’t protect people’s pre-crisis living standards, not only will their welfare be heavily compromised, demand could plunge and pull the economy down the recession rabbit-hole. So until the economy is decisively restarting, we need fiscal stimulus to continue fuelling the gears of the economy. Then we can wean them off it and tap on other policy tools like monetary policies. Not to mention the use of fiscal stimulus can also help address some of the supply-constraint problem that drove up inflation in the first place as it could also be channeled towards re-employment, investment, expansions and so on.”

“Wow,” the professor gave an applause, a proud smile adorning his lips, “You two indeed have showed the crux of the policy dilemma that countries face. While in normal times, both of your policies are perfect solutions — in crises, they can become a double-edged sword. So the answer is often in weighing the risks carefully — to weigh which policies should be leveraged more on further, for how long and how to ease it off in the mid-long term to prevent adverse implications from fossilising. Good job you two. I haven’t seen such contentious debates in a long time — I can die peacefully now.”

The class roared in laughter along with the professor as you two sat back down, eyes still on one another, the smirk never leaving Sunghoon's lips and the scowl never leaving your face. At this rate, it really did seem like he was one-upping you. That he had a bone to pick with you.

As soon as the class ended, best believe Jay was the first to poke fun at Sunghoon’s active participation in the lecture. With a sharp-angled jawline that looked like it could cut glass, and sharp deep-set eyes that are well-framed with strong arched brows — Jay is very masculine-looking and can come across as very intimidating. Despite that however, he is actually the social butterfly and the jokester in Sunghoon’s little clique. In other words, if you get pass his intimidating looks, he is actually the easiest to befriend and get along with.

“Are you trying to switch your reputation from being the campus heartbreaker to the campus nerd?” He raised his eyebrows as he sat on the table, waving at some of guys and girls that passed by who greeted him before they exited the hall, “You have been on a bloody roll in lectures and seminars these days. At this rate, you’ll end up as the teacher’s pet. Unless of course, that’s what you wanted, wait— is there a MILF that you’re trying to impr-“

“I’d wash your mouth with bleach if I could,” Jake smacked Jay by the arm. Jake, the blonde one, with the chiseled face, wide smile and plump lips, on the other hand, looks like the easiest to approach as he gave off Golden Retriever vibes though he is actually one of the most cunning one in the group with a penchant for flirting. “Nothing is hotter than a man with both looks and brains so whatever shit Sunghoon is trying to pull, I’m pretty sure it will bring more girls which translates to, more meals,” he added, snickering.

“Yeah, your mouth will get half of that bleach too Jake,” Heeseung chided, taking a jab at Jake as he joined them, “what did I say about being less explicit and crude when conversing? Do I have to print out a proper glossary for you guys? I have a reputation to uphold as part of the Student Body remember?”

Heeseung is the oldest one in the clique, the one that is pretty much the boy of every parents’ dream: handsome, an honor student, head of the Student Union and pretty much an ace, being able to master almost anything he decides to dabble into. Being the ”oldest“, he takes it upon himself to make sure the boys behave and do not step out of line.

“Pfft, loosen up,” Jay sneered, “most of the suspicious things we say are taken as innuendos anyways so we’re good. Had this been the 17-18th century however, we’d be burnt at stake.”

“That’s because your crowd are mostly those kind of people-“ Heeseung rolled his eyes at Jay before noticing Sunghoon spacing out next to them, “hey pretty boy stop staring at her, you’re burning holes.”

“Right… what is up with you lately,” Jake elbowed Sunghoon, “Found a new potential toy? A meal?”

“Might be a pest but I still can’t decide yet,” Sunghoon answered flatly, arms crossed as he leaned against the table behind him, eyes fixated on you. 

“Well for a pest, you sure are taking your sweet time brooding over it,” Jay mocked, “Have the accident with your most recent toy gave you some sort of trauma?”

“I wish I had made it into a real accident myself, then I wouldn’t have to deal with her calls,” Sunghoon scoffed, seeing his phone lit up for the umpteenth time from the same person this week: the Cheer Captain.

“Can’t you pick up her call at least once?” Heeseung sighed, “you owe her that much after ruining her life.”

“Don’t be overdramatic, it’s just a broken leg,” Sunghoon’s lips curled into a wry smile, showing a lack of remorse, “Also, how is that my fault? It occurred like a few days after that night so it’s all on her. She should’ve gotten a transfusion or get an energy drink if she feels lightheaded or weak.”

Heeseung sighed. This is the thing about Sunghoon — he has no tact at all which sometimes meant that Heeseung has the be the one cleaning up some of the little mess he stirs up. But then again, it is still much better compared to the mess that Jay and Jake stirs from being the more flamboyant, reckless and hot-blooded ones in the group. 

When Sunghoon looked back up from his phone, you were already done packing your things up, sharing a hearty laugh with the pale guy next to you as you two made your way out of your row. Sunghoon grabbed his backpack, looking like he was about to walk up to you. He was a step too late though as a red-haired guy beat him to it, greeting you loudly with a dimpled smile. He recognized the boy since his face was always plastered over the University’s notice board and paper. He’s the campus Taekwando champion, Yang Jungwon. 

“Tonight?” Sunghoon heard him ask you. You nodded, answering, “Yep, same place and time yeah?”

With that you headed out of the room, paying absolutely no attention to Sunghoon, as if he did not exist. Sunghoon scoffed, that was one of the growing list of things that irked him about you. The fact that you never showed him any other expressions than that of disinterest and contempt — the latter of which has to even be purposefully elicited from you such as by publicly countering your points in class and whatnot. He didn’t know why this irked him so much when he is already smothered with so much interest and attention already on a daily basis from half of the uni’s population, and you’re just one person, of no significance to him.

Whatever it was, he did remember when it all started though — it was the night of the party. As if imprinted into his brain, he remembered your expression of disgust during that night. The way you scoffed and rolled your eyes when you saw him with the Cheer Captain. He knew full well that you did not clearly see what he was doing but the expression struck a chord in him.

He was getting sick of the Cheer Captain and her constant need of attention and affection. His mind was also starting to tread dangerous waters, thinking of how unfair the relationship was on him. After all, she got everything and anything a human could possibly want in a relationship by dating him: a hot boyfriend with looks, brains and wealth, which in turn also shores up her reputation as the IT girl in campus. But there was honestly nothing to be gained for him from dating her, except for making him appear more humane, in Heeseung’s words, and perhaps to satisfy his carnal desire, though he hadn’t even have much of that to satisfy in the first place. She would go through lengths though to make sure it is fulfilled but at the end of the day, it still felt lacking for that was not the hunger and desire that he really needed to satiate. 

Unbeknownst to him, his head had travelled down her neck, triggering his own hypersensitivity towards the blood that was coursing through her veins. In the dangerous cocktail of thoughts and proximity, his throat dried up and his mind went on free-fall as soon as he sank his teeth onto her neck. He could feel himself losing control but he didn’t care, he was really getting sick of her, of everything — he could take care of another dead body easily so he thought, why not?

So he did. The euphoria, especially after depriving himself of fresh blood for a long time was off the charts. But it did not last long for he felt someone else’s presence nearby. As he lifted his head up directly towards the direction of that presence, he met your gaze, your face already contorted in a grimace at the sight. Being quite a prideful as a person, he did not take the your look of disgust well — not when it came from a mere mortal whom he could have killed in a heartbeat. But of course, that was not the sole reason as to why Sunghoon got so worked up. See, Sunghoon was always praised for his ability to restrain himself from devouring human for their blood. Unlike other vampires, he actually preferred to stick to bagged-blood diet for sustenance instead of hunting or preying on mere mortals. Other vampires might see this as discipline of the greatest form — something exemplary and someone worthy of utmost respect especially since times have changed which forced them to be extra cautious at liberally hunting human just for their blood. 

But the real truth is actually not so rose-tinted though it is something that only Sunghoon himself knew. Despite Sunghoon being amongst the elite of the vampire classes — the one with the pure-blood lineage, old money, and diverse and high education background — deep-seated within him was a hatred of his own nature. He loved control and order. With his wealth, intelligence, looks, charisma and magnetism — it was not difficult at all to either maintain or gain such control and order. The only thing that he failed to control was his thirst for blood when it does dawn. For a being that is supposed to be one step higher than mere mortals, the sight and smell of blood can immediately deprive his kind from any sense of rationality and free will — the satiation of which turns even the most noble into a beast, basically no different than an animal. Him notwithstanding. He hated that feeling — of losing control, of letting his hunger overthrow his rationality and consciousness. The disgusting aftermath of which serve as a reminder just how much of an animal their kinds can be. It all just feels like a vulnerability to him. Hence, he begun to depend on bagged-blood instead. Aside from being fuss and mess-free, a plus for a rather fastidious lad like himself, he won’t lose control. The constant uptake of which also help keeping him well-satiated which in turn helps him to withstand any direct exposure to human blood. But then again, he is loaded with lots of connection so it is relatively easy for him to source them. For other lower-class and average vampires however — they have little to no choice. Of course, he has not completely abandon such dietary needs yet. He still prey on people if they are easily accessible to him, which is pretty much all the time, given how people just buckle easily under his charm, wit and personal magnetism without him having to do much. It’s like they just willingly serve themselves on golden platter for him. Still, compared to other vampires, he always displayed more class and restrain when hunting/preying which explains his rather low body count. 

This is therefore why your expression of disgust that night, when he had lost control of himself in what he would have described a ‘moment of weakness’, struck a nerve in him. It was as if you were taking a jab at his deep-seated inferiority complex. You, a mere nobody and a mere mortal. Anger thus immediately rose within him at that time, as evidenced by the the drop in temperature and the dimming of lights in the room which reflect the sudden shift in his energy. Long forgotten was the limp body in his embrace for all he saw was you. Vexed, it occurred to him there and then to hunt you down and make you the next cold case in town though Heeseung came in just in time to warn him that he was almost draining his trophy girlfriend bloodless, kicking some sense into himself and stopping him from preying on another poor victim. 

Ever since then however, he cannot help but pick you out in the midst of the crowd, only realising that you two shared a few modules together as if you are just destined for him to mess with. He ran with it. Without realising however, in the midst of the constant in his life that was becoming boring, you somehow became a new point of interest in his life with your quirks and habits. Like a scientist fixated on a specimen, that is. Not to mention, he was beginning to enjoy the micro-change in your expressions which he can elicit from you just by staring you down or engaging you in a debate. 

“Well, if you need a new toy,” Jay slung an arm over Sunghoon’s shoulders, transporting him back to reality, “I know one that is just as perfect as your previous one. I happen to know that the new Cheer Captain got the hots for you — how does a new trophy girlfriend sounds like? She is also hosting a party tonight so you know…”

“You can take her,” Sunghoon cut him off, shoving Jay’s arms off his shoulders, “I’ve got more interesting thing to do.”

“You’re early.” 

You hear soon as the door of the personal study room you were in creaked open behind you. 

“You mean, you’re 5 minutes late?” You retorted as you swivelled around, expecting to see Jungwon, your partner for your Macroeconomics project. Instead of the red-haired cat-eye lad however, you were greeted by Park Sunghoon — the last person on earth you would expect to bump into in the library.

“You don’t look very happy to see me,” he said flatly as the door closed behind him, “I’m offended.”

“Uhh, this room is occupied and booked — in case the sign outside isn’t clear enough,” you replied curtly, “I’ve booked this room a week ahead already so you can’t just barge in and take this room okay? Follow procedures for once.”

“Well, someone already has a clouded opinion of me apparently,” he smirked, grabbing the chair that was across of you to your side, “you should consider being nice to me now. I’m your new project partner afterall.”

You stared at him in disbelief as he calmly sat down, “New partner? No, that can’t be right. It’s been 3 weeks, why would the professor suddenly change my partner?”

“Well, it’s not like the assignment of project partners have a statute of limitations,” Sunghoon shrugged before propping up his chin with his elbow on the table, facing you, “Regardless, I’m your new partner so get over it. I’m Sunghoon by the way.”

“Um duh, your notorious reputation precedes you, I know your name,” you replied as a matter-of-factly, flipping the pages of your notebook.

“I’m touched,” he smirked, “I know yours as well, it’s y/n.”

“mmhmm,” you gave him a quick glance, looking uninterested and unimpressed, before your eyes travel from the mind-map in your notebook to the opened email app in your laptop, “Let’s just crack on then. So, Jungwon and I have already discuss the potential structure and have also divided the tasks between ourselves. The parts highlighted in turquoise are his and in yellow, are mine. So far we have been doing the groundwork research for our respective parts. We are meant to meet again next week to piece them all up together and see what kind narrative we can go for in response to the question. But now that you’re here…” you drummed your fingers against the table, assessing the mind-map of work division on your notes, “the most straightforward way to divide the task between you and me would just be for you to take up Jungwon’s share and just continue where he left off. But I can see how that can be unfair since you weren’t the one agreeing to those share of subtopics in the first place so if you find any of the topics that I am currently doing more easy or comfortable to venture into — feel free to take them, I’ll switch them with yours. Don’t worry, I’ll hand over all the research and analysis I have done so far so you can build on it should you wish to pursue them.”

You looked up, slightly startled to see his face so close next to yours as he peered over to see your notes while calmly reassuring you, “don’t worry, I’ll take his share. You can just continue with yours.”

“If you say so,” you nodded in acknowledgement, quickly scribbling some notes on the mindmap, “Moving on. Like I said, we were meant to meet again next week to piece it all together. But, since you’ve just jumped in, I would have no problem postponing that — just let me know whenever you’re ready. Maximum by the end of this month I guess? So that we can have the structure and a definite direction ready at least.”

With a smug grin, he leaned back, “Oh please, no need for that. I’ll get it ready by next week. It would be as if nothing had changed.”

“That’d be perfect then,” you replied before shutting your laptop close, “I’ll email you the materials, template and some references.”

“That’s it?” he raised his eyebrows, watching you pack up.

“Unless you have any questions?”

“Not really,” he shrugged, “just thought we’d be doing it together.”

“We will. But at this stage it would be more efficient to do some of the deep research individually since there are so many grounds to cover,” you explained, “And since it’s individually done at this stage — we don’t have to stay together. I’m pretty sure you’d rather be anywhere but here and be with anyone but me anyway.”

“That’s not true. I could have just sent you a text or an email if I didn’t want to spend time with you don’t you think?” 

You scoffed, slinging your backpack over your shoulder as you headed for the door, “See you next week, just email me if you have any questions or anything.”

Without sparing so much of another glance nor a wave, you exited the room. 

“How annoying,” he muttered as soon as the doors close. Though seemingly looking calm and unperturbed, his clenched fist and the slight twitch of his eyebrows indicated otherwise. Suddenly, the lights throughout the library flickered, startling everyone including yourself, who had just exited the lift. Only when he unclenched his fist did the lights stop flickering. He does not really like using some of his powers as it drains him easily especially in the absence of fresh blood but as of late — he had found himself uncontrollably tapping onto them.

No cross that, he thought, you made him resort to them.

“Told you we would find our boy in the library,” the blonde boy, with the golden-retriever energy, exclaimed as soon as he reached the top of the mezzanine floor, skipping happily towards the lad who was all hunched up over his desk at the corner. Sunghoon did not even bother looking up, knowing exactly who the owner of the voice was — it was Jake.

“Hi buddy,” Jake grasped him by both shoulders as if trying to scare him, not that Sunghoon budged. The lanky guy, with sharp eagle-like eyes, Jay, joined not long after, scoffing at the sight of all the works messily strewn across Sunghoon’s desk as he picked up one of the books on his table, “Really? You’re putting a massive blow on our image Sunghoon. I mean even the official nerds aren’t in the library at this hour.”

“Can’t you read the sign? This is the quiet zone,” Sunghoon emphasized, snatching the book that Jay was holding up, “Oh wait, I’m talking to the guy who kept on flunking his classes from one century to the next.” 

“Hey, I still score higher than you for Politics and History okay,” Jay retorted, “Also, I mean — come on, you’ve excelled in almost every classes in every century — how many more do you want? Are you not bored yet chasing such trivial pursuits like these mere mortals.”

“I don’t think the grades are his endgame,” Heeseung quipped, joining the boys last, jutting his chin towards the side of the ground floor where you were seating at, totally oblivious of the ruckus over the mezzanine floor.

Recognising the girl to be the one always in a heated debate in lectures with Sunghoon, Jay rolled his eyes, “Seriously dude? If you have a bone to pick with her just finish her out quick. You act as if you cannot just easily take her out. Why are you playing some cat and mouse game with her? Are you that bored now that your trophy girlfriend isn’t around?”

“Maybe our little prince here is loving the chase,” Jake touted, grinning mischievously, “We are predators after all — the chasing part of which can get even the sanest of us high. That is, if hunger does not overtake it.”

“Look, I don’t mind your little games,” Heeseung interjected, resting his hand on Sunghoon’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze which felt far from comforting but more like a warning, “but you should be careful. You have been unnecessarily reckless as of late. First, the cheer captain then the taekwando champion — two important people in campus, two ended up hospitalised. If people around here were any smarter, they could’ve sniff out some similarities between the two cases which could put us in danger. This is no time to be playing around when beyond campus, missing people cases are already on the rise.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sunghoon shrugged Heeseung’s hand off, looking up at him with an almost taunting stare as he sneered, “Didn’t you hear what they all say? The cheer captain fell off the pyramid whilst Jungwon passed out from severe anaemia.”

The grin on both Jay and Jake’s face immediately dropped with the former almost gasping out loud, “shit that was you? Wait — if you’d been that bold and reckless as of late, you should have no problem preying on her. Instead you’re resorting to some lame cat and mouse game with her.Geez, what is wrong with this lad.” 

Indeed, like a true predator, he could just make things easy for himself by preying on you at your most vulnerable, which is pretty much most of the time for you. After all, you frequent quieter hallways, spaces and streets; you stay until graveyard hour at the library; you go home at the dead of the night and you’re pretty much alone half of the time he saw you in campus. Basically he had plenty of opportunities to do so. But he never did. Instead, he just observe you from afar or tail you — as if you’re a specimen, not a meal.

“Did she hit a nerve with you?” Heeseung raised his eyebrows, noticing the slight twitch in Sunghoon’s eyebrows as soon as he said it which confirmed his allegations. You can always leave it up to Heeseung to hit the nail right on the head. Sunghoon suddenly remembered the look of disgust you flashed him the night of the party. The contempt he felt never went away, it builds up the more he sees you. Most of the time, you act like he doesn’t exist — not even paying him the slightest attention unless forcefully elicited through some prolonged eye-contact or public debates. But even during those times, you either immediately stare away as if he was not even worthy to be stared at. Lately, in fact, you even purposefully avoided him. If he was in your lane or in a room you were heading, you just turn around, as if he’s a plague. Without realising, his hand was already curling into a fist, a glint sparking in his eyes as it stayed lock on you over at the ground floor. It was all painfully noticeable to Heeseung who then cautioned him, “You better nip the obsession in the bud Sunghoon. Don’t drag it out or else I’d have to take matters into my own hands.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sunghoon murmured, the corner of his lips lifted, forming a wry smile, “I’ll let her stay on her high horse for a bit — let it get higher, even. That way, when I push her off it — it would be one. painful. plunge.”

Heeseung sighed, shaking his head dismissively, “You’re calm and disinterested most of the time. But when not, so vengeful and obsessive.” 

“Explains why no one dares to cross him,” Jake shrugged, “Anyways, we didn’t go all the way here to study or chit chat. We’re here to drag you to the party Sunghoon. So come on, pack up and-“

“Told you guys I wasn’t joining,” Sunghoon replied nonchalantly, brows furrowing when he spot your friend entering the study hall, skipping happily towards you.

Jay chuckled as he stood next to Sunghoon, as if rejoicing the fact that nothing can be done on Sunghoon’s part anymore, “Well, not much you can do tonight it seems — girl is occupied now. So, what do you say? Shall we head to the party? You’d be obsessing over the missed opportunity all night so better drink it all up tonight, no?”

Sunghoon glared at Jay before exhaling sharply, “Fine.”

Over at the side, by the bannister, Heeseung stayed silent as he watched Sunghoon, his eyes looking stern. Noticing his grave expressions, Jake approached the older guy, trying to lighten up the atmosphere for him, “Sunghoon has been so disinterested with life for quite a while — the change is kind of exciting to see no?” 

“I’d rather he turn her into the next cold case in town than let him play mind games with her,” Heeseung mumbled, face impassive, “He can grow too obsessive to the point of irrationality that it can put us all in trouble.”

“Oh lighten up hyung,” Jake nudged him, “He’ll probably get bored of her soon.”

Except, Sunghoon never did for it became a new habit from then on, to stay until the dead of the night at the library just so that he can be around you. He was not really sure why he would do such a thing for there never really had been any plan in mind. He just saw you walking to the library one day, followed you, saw you stayed and decided to stay as well. He kept himself occupied too while at it since you spent ingloriously long hours in the library and he cannot just sit around and watch you all night. Since he had always loved being alone, the dead silence of the library during graveyard hours provided him just the respite he needed from the all the ruckus he had to face from being the campus heartthrob. He is quite intelligent and cerebral too so doing work for real in the library did not felt like a chore — it was rather enjoyable to him. He was able to see how theories and schools of thoughts that rose to prominence during 'his time', now dismantled by another school of thought. So feeble, he thought, the ebb and flow of human life and thoughts.

Now and then however, whenever he glanced up from his work, he would find his eyes landing on you over at the ground floor. Like gravity always pulling things back to earth, his eyes just always find you. Sometimes he would feel compelled to just walk up to you, strike a conversation or just bother you but somehow whenever the desire to do so was the strongest, the pale guy that was always with you would appear. He noticed the guy would often come by around midnight, skipping happily across the carpeted floor, and not long after, you would pack up and leave the library with him. It was as if he came by just to fetch you — like a parent or a guard dog, he thought.

Tonight however, your little guard dog was nowhere in sight. As if the stars were aligned for Sunghoon too, you had somehow dozed off in your study carrel — giving him an easy excuse to come up to you in case he needed to justify himself. He carefully approached you as the clock chimed, noticing the way your shoulder rise and fall with every breathing, the look of ease that spread across your face, the way your hair softly fell over the side of your face and the fact that you were still holding onto your pen, the ink bleeding onto your notes as it stayed on spot for who knows how long.

As if there was a magnetic force in between, his hand had already reached out towards you, gently tucking strands of hair that had covered your face, behind your ear. The warmth of your skin electrifying against his freezing hands, it was almost comforting. Instead of stopping, his hand continued travelling downwards, from your cheeks, to the side of your jaw then to your exposed neck. Suddenly he can feel the shift within himself. With his senses heightening, he was now becoming hyperaware of your beating pulse, which he could feel right under his fingertips, and the blood coursing through your veins. He swallowed thickly, feeling his judgements starting to become clouded when suddenly your eyes fluttered open. Startled, you jerked backwards in your seat in surprise, smacking his hand away in the process, “The fuc—“ 

He stared at you, deadpanned, as if he had not just done anything remotely suspicious nor invasive, “Are you always this jumpy?"

“I- well what were you doing anyway?” you asked, flabbergasted, your heart still hammering against your chest. You realised that the place was empty save for both of you.

“I wanted to wake you up, it’s midnight,” he answered as a matter-of-factly.

“Oh,” you took a quick glance at your watch, suddenly feeling embarrassed that you were thinking so negatively of him, “yeah, you’re right. I must have dozed off. I should pack up. Sorry about that—”

“No… wait—” he held onto your wrist gently, stopping you, “Stay for a bit. I have something to ask.”

You looked around, wary of the security guard who should be doing his rounds by now. It was already half past two. By then the security guard would have lost his composure if he found out you guys were still in the library when you guys should have long packed up and leave as the library should have been closed 30 minutes ago, “I- uh, I guess we can do a quick one before the guard comes.”

“Oh don’t worry. He won’t,” Sunghoon muttered quietly. You gave him a quick side-eye as you sat back, wondering how can he be so sure but decided not to ask anyway. Truth is, he had made the security guard doze off earlier so that he can spend some time alone with you. But you did not need to know that, he thought, smirking to himself.

“So,” he began, placing his laptop on your desk as he lowered himself down your level, “You said, we could use these sets and these right? Perhaps we can add another? As a dummy variable? I’ve selected some years where like absolutely nothing out of norm happening. And then, I’m also thinking that we can trial 1980s data sets, it has similar noise to your 1950.”

You looked closely at the data sets he highlighted which indeed showed similar contexts, “That’s true. They were indeed times of distress which could serve our narrative well. Wow, I should’ve thought of that. But anyways, yeah sure we can add a dummy variable and trial that one period. They seem to be highly correlated which can help us support either arguments. I actually, saw some similar arguments from these authors —”

But Sunghoon was not listening at all. As you were busy raising some important points, his attention had long darted away from the project, to you. From the way you gesticulated to make your point; the way your eyes sparkled as you explained your points thoroughly; to your plush lips; then down to your exposed neck and collarbone — suddenly reminded of the warmth of your neck and pulse that he could feel right underneath his fingertips just moments ago. Without realizing, he found himself slowly leaning in, getting delirious from the thoughts which were further intoxicated by the captivating and alluring smell of your perfume — a delicate blend of green, citrusy, and woody notes. 

“You smell nice,” he murmured, his breath tingling against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

“Excus-“ you turned to face him, about to shoot him a glare, only to suddenly get caught off guard by the proximity between your faces. His stare was deep, almost sultry, as it bore onto yours, making you gulp nervously as you backed away slightly. The proximity and the uncalled-for comment was really triggering your flight response but as he had placed one hand on the edge of your table and the other on your seat’s headrest, you were effectively caged in.

He, on the other hand, was unflinching as usual and as if he could read your mind, you notice the slight twitch on the corner of his lips and eyebrows — looking as if he was satisfied seeing you flustered. Snapping out of it, you pushed his laptop and papers back towards him, “do you not have any concept of personal space? Move back. You’re hogging my share of oxygen.”

Grinning coyly, he straightened back up. He knows not to push buttons too far. Not this early at least, "Why? Did your heart lurch?”

“No, but my hands were just about to had you gotten any closer,” you deadpanned, rising up from your seat, realizing that he might have had underlying intentions —whatever it was, “Anyway, sure. Trial them. I’ll add on with the justification if the results are favourable…” you continued as you pack up, “We’re done right? I’m heading home.”

“I’ll walk you home.”

“There is absolutely no reason to. Dont you live like at the high street or something — that’s the opposite way,” you countered, throwing your backpack over your shoulders and making your way towards the door. 

“Which is why I have a car,” he emphasized, following closely behind you, “I can drive you. The bus doesn’t run anymore at this hour right?”

“Doesn’t really matter, my accommodation is still within walking distance,” you maintained, suddenly wishing that the guard would show up and interrupt you guys. Sunghoon was getting really pushy and considering all the weird moments you two shared, you were starting to get really uncomfortable.

“Haven’t you heard of the rising cases of people going missing? it’s not safe to be out and about alone.”

“I’d rather be caught dead than be caught riding your Benz,” you scoffed as you reached the lobby, “You should go home too. Your pretty face is a better catch than me in its entirety.”

He smirked as he outpaced you, grabbing the door handle before you could, “well, not all predators target the same prey.” 

You looked up at him quizzically. Leaning down, he whispered in your ear, “be careful then", before pushing the door open for you, gesticulating that you are free to pass through. You wanted to reply him, to have the last word but decided against it. So far, any small talks with him will just snowball rapidly into something else, just like a trap, so without wasting any more time, you brushed past him, putting your headphones over your ears as you walked down the tarmac path towards the main road. As you walked though, you could not help shake the feeling that there was a slight edge in his voice when he cautioned you earlier.

The end of another week rolled by. End of weeks are kind of special for you and Sunoo because if you guys plan to walk home together, you guys would make sure to take a slight detour to the 24-hour bubble tea shop in the city centre as a little reward to yourselves for working hard in campus all week. That was indeed the plan for tonight too but you have just received a text from Sunoo earlier to not wait up. He was told that his dance club was suddenly invited to perform at a big event next week so he would have to practice until much later from tonight onwards. Thus with no one to remind you of the time, you got so engrossed in your work at the library. Not to mention, the guard, yet again, was nowhere in sight so you overstayed your time.  

“Where’s your little guard dog?” 

You jumped in your seat, startled, “of course, it’s you,” you huffed, hands flying over to you chest in an effort to calm down your heart that had almost leapt out of your body. It was Park Sunghoon, again.

“For someone who is kind of fearless, you really are jumpy,” he mocked.

“Excuse me, you’re the one who snuck up on me,” you retorted, “Also what guard dog?”

“You know, the pale dude who is always with you,” he replied as he casually pulled one of the empty chairs and dragging it to your side, “the one who looks like a fox."

“His name is Sunoo and no he is not my guard dog,” you corrected.

“I hope not your boyfriend either?” he quipped, eyebrows raised, lips curled into his usual playful smirk.

“What is it to you anyway?” You shot back, eyeing him suspiciously as he took a seat beside you, placing his bag between your seat and his, “Also, what do you want from me this time?”

“Geez, you’re always so friendly,” he remarked sarcastically. 

“And you’re always up in my business,” you replied sardonically, plastering a fake smile, “no seriously though. If you need anything from me, just shoot now. Before the guard comes, we are like overstaying our time here again. If he sees us, he’d go ballistic.”

“Don’t worry about that,” he grinned coyly, “I know for sure he won’t.”

Your brows furrow over his overconfidence again but decided not to think much of it, again. It has been 3 weeks since you guys started working together and naturally, since you two had to meet once or twice a week over it, the animosity between you two, or rather from your side, have slightly dissipated. All the contemptuous debates and snide remarks have been replaced with productive discussions and playful banters. That being said, you still maintain an arm’s length with him. Nothing good comes from getting close to a heartthrob, you reasoned.

“Did you see my email?” he asked.

“Oh sorry, I haven’t. Wait a sec,” you turned to your laptop, downloading the attachment, “Oh, so you’ve done preparing your parts already?” you mumbled, scrolling through his part of the slides that he just proposed to add a week ago, “this is—”

“Good?” he interjected, grinning smugly.

“Yeah,” you nodded, giving him a quick smile — probably a first, he thought. 

“Well, you look very surprised I’m almost offended,” he propped his elbow against the table, his chin resting on his palm, “You must’ve thought there is nothing going on for me except for my looks huh?”

“And your wealth too, I might add,” you replied nonchalantly, typing away, “To be honest. I didn’t think you were going to do your part. In fact, I was so prepared to pull the all-nighters to pull off your parts in case you bail.”

“Wow,” he bemused, “You sure are colder and more tactless than you look. Thought we just needed some time but it’s still very business-like between us.”

“Well, I mean the only thing that holds us together is this project so -“

“So, let’s change that then,” he cut you off as he rose up, suddenly packing up your books and notes that were strewn across your table.

“Uh, what are you doing?” you looked up at him quizzically as he picked up your backpack from the ground and put the books and papers into your backpack as if it was his. 

“I want us to be closer,” he winked before slinging your backpack over his shoulder while carrying his own backpack over the other shoulder.

“It’s 3 AM,” you protested, trailing behind him as he marched for the door.

“So? You usually leave late from the library anyway.”

“Yeah, studying,” you emphasized, trying to snatch your backpack away from him but he was too quick in dodging you. With a triumphant smile, he walked in a backwards manner, “come on, just some late-night snacks and some chit-chat that’s not macroeconomics. Don’t you think I deserve just that much considering how good of a project partner I’ve been? Even Jungwon can’t do half as good of a job.”

“I’d rather you be one of those freeloading group mate then,” you folded your arms, annoyed.

“Why do you hate me so much?” he finally asked, head cocking to the side.

“I don’t.”

“So you like me?”

“I also don’t.”

“Ouch.”

“Just give me my bag back,” you extended your hand, beckoning him to return your backpack.

He stared at your extended hand for a few seconds before grasping it instead, “Not a chance.”

“Hey-“ you shrieked as he pulled you along and exited the library. You sighed, relenting, letting him drag you towards the corner of the street just outside campus where a few food stalls were still opened, “What would you like?”

“Wait...” you stared at him in a mixture of disbelief and amusement, “The Park Sunghoon eats at stalls?”

“What?" he teased, "You weren’t expecting a Michelin-starred restaurant were you?”

“Of course not. I’m not you,” you scoffed, shaking his grasp off of your hand, “I’m just surprised you’re not as out of touch as I thought you were.”

“Trust me, I’m full of surprises,” he winked.

You rolled your eyes though you immediately changed your expressions as you turned towards the seller, beaming, “Can I get 2 Bungeoppangs please? Thank you.”

“Make that 4,” he added, offering the lady a wad of bills, beating you to it, “Oh it’s on me — I mean I’m the one who dragged you so late at night.”

Not a fan of being indebted, especially not to this Golden spoon , you quickly slip your money into his pocket, “Oh please, I’d never let you have that pleasure.”

“That’s fine,” he clicked his tongue, “I’ll just keep on dragging you for midnight snacks until you let me treat you. Here you go,” he grinned as he handed you the paper bag containing your orders. You scoffed realizing that he had just trapped you.

“So,” he started, beckoning you to join him to sit at the stairwell nearby which was looking out towards the distant cityscape — its lights twinkling like stars, “since you’re so hell-bent in showing that you don't like me, would you mind enlightening me on what you honestly thought of me?”

You stared at him in confusion, wondering what he was planning up his sleeves this time. Wiggling his eyebrows, he reassured, “oh trust me, you can’t hurt me so shoot away.”

“Fine,” you shrugged, “I thought you were a good-for-nothing airhead who floats through life all thanks to winning the genetic lottery and daddy's money."

He snorted before pressing his tongue against the inside of one cheek, staring at you with a look that seemed either he was proud of you or he just didn’t believe how vile your words could be, “Wow, and I thought I was tactless. You’re worse.”

Truth to be told, that initial negative impression of Sunghoon that you had, have already begun eroding the more you interacted with him. Instead of the arrogant, good-for-nothing airhead that you pictured him to be, Sunghoon turned out to be a smart, diligent and an agreeable lad, making you feel like a total prick for thinking otherwise. Not that you want to admit that to him though. His self-ego was already so inflated as it is.  

“Don’t worry, this level of unbridled tactlessness is only reserved for those deserving of it — like you,” you plastered a smile before taking a bite of your food, surprised by how good it was.

“Well, it must have have hurt your pride to know that I am not just wealthy and handsome but also,” he paused for extra emphasis, “brainy and competent in, I dare say, everything.”

“You’re shameless,” you scoffed but the corner of your lips were uncontrollably lifting into an amused grin.

“Hey, being humble isn’t my thing,” he clicked his tongue.

“Yeah I mean, being humble isn’t on-brand for you. I guess some people are just born lucky to have the whole package.” 

Suddenly, with a slight glint in his eyes, he uttered in a low voice, “if it’s of any consolation, I do have a major weakness. Would you like to know it?”

You held his gaze, unsure of whether he was serious, he was flirting or he was messing around, “I am pretty sure there is a catch to that.”

“Of course, you’re a good economist so you’d know that there is no such thing as free lunch,” he grinned smugly, leaning in closer, his lips just inches away from your ear, “it would cost you your life.”

“Wouldn’t even be interested in it even if it is free,” you whispered back.

With a grin that was unreadable, he leaned back, propping his back with his hands on the ground behind him, "you're like the personafication of the Great Wall or something, so hard to break.”

You just gave him a slight smile before continuing to stare at the view ahead, not minding his words. Sunghoon, on the other hand, had his eyes on you. Thinking quite literally of how hard it was to break the invisible barrier between you two. Sure, you were not as prickly as you initially were but it has been almost a month and the pace at which it was all developing was too slow for him. Just then his phone buzzed as a text had just come in.

Sir. It has been done. I’ve coaxed the tourism committee to give the spot to your university's dance society. Had to double the amount offered though. -Mr. Han.

Sunghoon was going to ignore the text but then another thought dawn on him, I should kick everything up a notch, he thought, as he fired a quick reply to Mr. Han:

That's fine. Need you to do something else asap. Will call you soon.

Patience was, afterall, never part of his virtue.

“I’m sorry,” Sunoo cried out for the umpteenth time over the phone, “I know I promised that tonight would be my treat but the head of the dance team isn’t satisfied with our performance so he’s making us practice until dawn. AGAIN.”

“Dude, it’s fine,” you reassured, making your way down the sidewalk, past the bus stop, “this could be your time to shine. There might be entertainment companies there so you might get scouted. All the more reason to practice hard until dawn.”

“That would have made all the all-nighters worth it,” he sighed, “Anyways, alright I won’t hold you any longer or else you’ll be going home even later. Point is, get a taxi okay? Don’t walk all the way back. You heard the news lately.”

“You are worrying about the wrong person,” you sung, “alright then, I’m going to cross the street now. See you in class tomorrow!”

Oddly enough while it was only 12 AM, the streets were already so eerily empty tonight, the silence of which was deafening. In fact, even after having walked for almost 10 minutes by the main road, you have yet to pass by a single vehicle nor person and it was beginning to fill you with trepidation. Perhaps the rising number of missing cases were really starting to instil fear and paranoia amongst the townsfolk, you thought. 

While that has never deterred you from going home late or being alone since you were never the type to get easily scared, something felt awfully off tonight. Besides your neighbourhood resembling more and more like a ghost town the farther you walk, it was just too still, too quiet. When you reached the end of the alleyway that you usually use as a shortcut, you threw one last glance behind you, trying to make sure that no one had been following you. Thankfully, indeed no one had — filling you in with relief but making you feel stupid for being too paranoid. When you turn back around however, you almost bumped into a tall figure, all clad in black. “It’s awfully late to be walking all alone don’t you think?” he asked mockingly in a gritty voice.

Before you could even react however, his hand was already on your arm, his sharp nails digging into your skin. The next thing you knew he had dragged and yanked you to the side, into another darker alleyway where the dumpsters were. Pain shot all over you as you got hurled onto the hard gravelled path. Looming before you was the man, laughing deviously as he lowered himself. He was probably around 25, pale and gangly, with a rather sinister wide smile plastered over his face and an inhumane glint in his eyes like that of a cat's tapetum lucidum, glowing especially in the dark.

With adrenaline and fear now on overdrive, you sprang to your feet, ramming him out of the way with as much strength as you could muster, sending him tumbling backwards with a loud groan. Without sparing another second, you sprinted off, taking every turns you can take in the hopes that the non-linear path you had taken would have thrown him off your trails. For a moment it seemed to have worked for you did not see a hint of him when you looked back nor do you hear other footsteps beside yours.

You were in fact only a few meters away from the nearest exit when suddenly you felt someone grabbing you by the shoulder, pulling you with so much force to the side, before throwing you harshly against the cement wall. It was the maniac from earlier, still grinning like a Cheshire cat as if his lips had been permanently sewn to stretch that wide. With both hands on your collar, pressing hard against your neck, you can feel the air being squeezed out of your lungs as he was choking you, "I could've made it so painless but well - you decided to play around..."

You wanted to scream but with his hands pressed up on your throat, nothing came out. You thrashed wildly, hitting him wherever your hands could reach though nothing seemed to have worked. Gasping for air, you were so sure that you were going to die in a matter of seconds. Just then you saw another dark figure looming behind the maniac with his hand raised upwards, holdimg what seemed like a bat or a plank. Within seconds the bat or plank hit the maniac squarely on his back causing him to double down in pain. With his grip loosened, you fell harshly to the ground, the pain shooting everywhere but at least you were finally able to catch your breath. Though still light-headed from the lack of oxygen and still coughing and wheezing from being choked earlier, you spared no seconds to drag yourself away from the maniac.

You turned your attention to the other man, who was standing next to the maniac with the bat or plank still swinging in his hand as if he was deliberating on whether to deliver another blow to the maniac. But then instead, he turned towards you. While indeed he had saved you, your flight and fight response was still on overdrive and you backed away instinctively as he trudged up towards you.

"y/n, it's me."

You stopped retreating, recognizing the voice and the silhouette as he came closer.

"Sunghoon...?" you called out though still uncertain. Only when he lowered himself down to you level, his face catching the lighting from the other side, did you exhale a huge sigh of relief for indeed it was Sunghoon. Never had you ever been so relieved to see someone. "Sunghoon, how did-" you croaked but stopped as you noticed the maniac earlier had already gotten up and had started to sprint away. "the guy- the guy-" you stammered, voice hoarse.

Sunghoon cussed as he watched the man slowly disappear into the dark, "Just let him y/n. I can’t leave you alone here.”

“But—“ you stammered, as he helped you get up to your feet, “what if that man is behind all the disappearances? He might just move on to some other victim. We need to-”

“y/n,” he reassured, gently rubbing your shoulders as if comforting you, “Calm down okay? I hit him pretty hard on his back, I doubt he would continue tonight. I’ll also make sure to go straight to the police later alright? Come on.”

He draped your arm over the back of his neck while placing the other hand behind your back, trying to hold you steadily as you walked. While you tried to walk as normally as possible, the pain over your knee and hips grew with every step that you cannot help but wince.

"You're hurt," Sunghoon murmured, "Its' better if I carry you-"

“No,” you protested, “it’s okay, I can walk.”

“Your knee will bleed more with all the limping and hobbling,” he replied as a matter-of-factly. You looked down at your knee, only then realising that blood has streamed down your calves, staining your white socks red, “I’d piggyback you but you’d have to bend your knees and it would just hurt more so I’ll just carry you okay? Bear with me.” You suddenly feel his other hand behind your knees, the other wrapping itself over your back, before he pick you up in one effortless and swift swoop. It was embarrassing, you thought, but there was not much you can do.

Within a minute, you two finally got out of the dark alleyway as it opened up into a brightly-lit street, the corner where the 24-hour convenience store was. The harsh white fluourescent lights, which you have always hated, suddenly becoming a source of comfort and safety. He gently set you down on the bench just outside of the store, “I’ll go and buy you something to treat your wounds with alright? I’ll be quick, don’t worry. I can assure you, he won’t come back.”

You nodded weakly. Truth to be told, you didn’t want to be left alone. You were anxious that the man would just pop out and drag you again like he just did. Not that you said anything though. True to his words, Sunghoon appeared back not long after, running towards you with a plastic bag full of first aid kit items and some drinks, one of which he had taken out and opened up in advance for you, “Drink up first.”

You muttered a thanks, dawning it — not realising just how parched you were.

“Want to tell me what happened?” he asked as he watched you rummage to the plastic bag for the appropriate medication to apply.

“Had the misfortune to run into a crazed dude, that’s all,” you mumbled, taking out a bottle of alcohol disinfectant and some cotton swabs, then trying to open the seal of the former, “Thank you for earlier. Really thought I’d die.”

“Let me,” he offered, taking the bottle and swabs away from your hands before kneeling in front of you. You protested, telling him that you can do it yourself. He gave you a small smile, “your shaky hands indicate otherwise.”

You furrowed your brows, “no they’re not, lo-“ you grumbled bringing your hands up to show him. Unfortunately for you, Sunghoon was right, they were. Not to mention, you had scraped your palm pretty badly from the fall as well.

“As much as you try to put up an unfazed front, the body keeps score,” he muttered calmly as he gently apply the disinfectant on the cuts over your legs, “Don’t worry though. He won't reappear. Not when you’re with me out here.”

You winced as he moved on to apply the disinfectant on the big scrape over your knee, “Hold on yea? You took a really nasty fall with this one.”

As Sunghoon continued to patiently treat your wounds, you couldn't help but observe his every move and his every features — the only time you had ever actually properly looked at him. You realized then how large his hands were, how slender his fingers were and how meticulous and gentle every move and touch was as if you're glass and he was afraid to break you. Every now and then he would look up, meeting your gaze, giving you a quick reassuring smile that contrasts his usual smug grin.

Suddenly, you felt guilt creeping up. This was the guy whom you thought was an asshat. The guy that you, despite all that he had shown to prove otherwise, still had zero faith in. The guy that you refuse to give any time of the day except when necessary. Yet there he was, having saved you from death and as if that wasn't enough, was currently kneeling on the dirty pavement in his expensive get-up, just to tend to your cuts. It occured to you then that perhaps you should swallow your pride and accept the fact that you were the one who had made unfair judgements about Sunghoon. That your gut instincts were wrong. That he was indeed a good person, happen to be born with a golden spoon in his mouth.

Perhaps, you thought, you should also stop lying to yourself and admit that you have actually begun to not just not mind his presence around you, but actually enjoy it. That you were incredibly thankful and grateful that he was there right where and when you needed someone the most. Yet, steeped in pride and naturally unable to express your innermost emotions, all you could mutter was, “Your hands are freezing.”

He chuckled as he gazed up while holding your hand to apply a bandaid over the scrapes on your palm. With a gentle smile, one that is wide enough for you to notice that he had a dimple on his right cheek, he muttered, "well, yours aren't warm either."

For the first time ever, you did not find his smile to be annoying nor did you feel like smacking his hand away when it lingered too long on your skin.

Jay tiptoed across the wooden flooring that night, looking around to make sure no one caught him slipping in so late. After the number of missing persons cases, and of course after Sunghoon’s little stunts, Heeseung imposed some sort of hunting ban on them at least for a few weeks. Him sneaking around late would’ve earned him an earful from the elder considering how he is the most flamboyant and easy-to-tempt out of the bunch.

As he was about to take the stairs, he noticed the living room door, which was usually closed, ajar. The room was dark but through some momentary flashes of lightning outside, he noticed something suspicious on the floor in that room. He approached it slowly, noticing that they were empty blood bags which, as he followed, were leading up to Sunghoon, who was at the end of room, sitting on the ground with his upper body leaning against the couch. With his head thrown back against the seat cushion, Sunghoon looked almost lifeless had he not just opened his eyes to mere slits at the sound of Jay’s footsteps.

“DUDE! WHAT THE HELL!!!” Jay exclaimed, aggressively hitting the light switch in the room to turn it on, causing Sunghoon to groan over the sudden brightness and throw his arm over his eyes.

“You eat human blood for breakfast, what are you so startled about?” Sunghoon grumbled lethargically.

“I thought you got killed or something! This place looks like a crime scene! You look like a crime scene,” Jay complained, staring at him incredulously as he looked at all the emptied blood bags strewn beside Sunghoon’s body, “Were you starved or something?! I mean, look at the amount o— wait, did you take some of my supplies too?!”

Sunghoon scoffed, “I’ll repay you twice as much, don’t worry.”

“Forget about that,” Jay plopped himself on the couch, arms crossed, “I just hope that you have a good reason behind all of these uncivilised mess you’re creating.”

“Uncivilised?” Sunghoon chuckled drily, letting his arm fall to his side, eyes blankly staring on the ceiling, “Would have been even more uncivilised if I allow myself to lose it earlier.”

Jay rolled his eyes, “Hey, stop speaking in prose.”

Sunghoon sighed, “I almost lost it earlier. But I didn’t. And now, I’m paying the hefty price of suppressing it.” He swallowed thickly, the scent of your blood still so fresh in his mind. It was so enticing and intoxicating, he was starting to see red. Thank goodness, he had diligently been satiating himself daily with bagged blood. If not, he would have immediately lost it while tending to you. He planned on driving you back home but he knew he wouldn’t be able to withstand it any moment longer, especially not in such an enclosed space. So he sent his chauffeur to drive you home, telling you that he wanted to head to the police and quickly lodge the report before the maniac gets away far.

“Don’t tell me it’s that girl again?” Jay sighed — the silence of which just confirmed it.

“It’s weird though,” Sunghoon mumbled, “With all the blood I’ve drank tonight —“

“You still want hers?” Jay interjected, “Boy, I guess you’ve just found blood that is likely to be exactly your taste. You’re in trouble now — that hunger, if you don’t tend to, can fester in uglier ways. You got to-“

“Is it you again?” Heeseung suddenly barged into the room, his voice booming. Throwing a piece of shredded muddy black cloth on the ground, he glowered at Sunghoon, “the bloodless dead body in the river. Is it your doing?”

Sunghoon just sneered, knowing exactly who Heeseung was referring to, “that guy was the one causing ruckus as of late in this town, aren’t you glad that I caught him and put an end to him?”

“It could have been handled better by the elders. Who are you to take matters into your own hands instead?” Heeseung fumed, “Not that you did a good job anyway since you’ve drained him completely out of blood.”

“I know you didn’t kill him out of some noble reason Park Sunghoon,” Heeseung continued, lowering himself to Sunghoon’s level and grabbing a fistful of his collar, “You tempted him didn’t you? I heard it from Mr. Han. You told him about some girl being within the vicinity? All just so you can play hero for her so that you can tilt whatever game you’re playing with her in your favour, huh?”

“To be precise, I did not tell him that that girl was a meal,” Sunghoon emphasized, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, “I told him to scare her, that I’d offer him blood bags in exchange. He was more than eager to take it up for he was a starving mess. But well, apparently he was that parched, he went rogue and attacked her for real. If you consider that too, wouldn’t you say that I have saved another fellow human then?”

Heeseung scoffed, pulling the younger by the collar towards him as he glared menacingly at him, something unusual for the doe-eyed eldest to sport, “I told you stop playing games, didn’t I?”

“Guys, please,” Jay interjected, noticing the tension in the air, afraid of what were to come next, “We’re like fossil-aged, way past the time to be brawling. Heeseung, let him go -- for tonight at least. He's out of it right now.”

Heeseung pushed Jay’s hand away, harshly letting go of Sunghoon’s collar, “One more reckless move and I’ll take that as a your death wish Sunghoon.”

“I know I should be happy that you’re getting close to the guy of every girls’ and boys’ dreams,” Sunoo sighed, gesticulating wildly as you two walked towards the library the next evening, “but I have a bad feeling about Sunghoon.”

“He isn’t actually that bad,” you muttered quietly causing Sunoo to stare at you in aghast, “Okay okay, what happened to y/n? Did she get swapped with a double?”

“Stop overreacting,” you rolled your eyes, “It’s just because the deadline is approaching that we are spending more time together. Pretty sure we’ll be back to strangers after this.”

“I sure hope so,” Sunoo emphasized snidely, eyes narrowing into mere slits as if he was judging if there was any grain of truth to what you had just said. You shook your head dismissively as you two reached the entrance of the library door, “Alright, here’s my stop. Have a good practice tonight Sunoo.”

“Will do,” he pressed his lips together, forming a tight-lipped smile, before suddenly holding on to your arm stopping you halfway from passing through the library main entrance, “Wait… Just… Be careful okay? I know being alone is dangerous but… I feel like he’s not exactly the best company either.”

There was genuine concern in Sunoo’s eyes and voice which confused you. He was not always this protective nor paranoid especially when he has always been the one egging you to go on dates and talk to guys. You were going to say something when you felt someone standing behind you. “Oh sorry-“ you apologised as you turned your head, thinking you might have blocked someone’s way. But it was none other than Sunghoon who had just wedged himself between your back and the door as if holding it for you. He looked down at you, beaming, his dimples peeking through, “Hi — I was getting worried since you haven’t showed up.”

Noticing the unnecessary proximity, Sunoo protectively pulled you slightly to the side as he scoffed, “Don’t be dramatic. It’s only what? 10 minutes past 8 PM?”

You gave Sunoo a quick glance, signalling him to stop acting so sassy for no reason but he just ignored you, choosing to shoot daggers at Sunghoon instead.

“Well, she is never late so my worries are justified,” Sunghoon calmly remarked, “even more so when she’s just had a run-in with a maniac yesterday.”

Sunoo chewed the inside of his lower lip in guilt. While he did feel guilty about it all day, offering to treat you to the most expensive restaurants in town, and even planning to march to the police station to demand quick action, you were quick to calm him down by reassuring him that you were completely alright. That the maniac had not hurt you. That all the cuts and bruises are merely from, you lied, having clumsily fell to the ground while running away and not because you got thrown to the ground. But now, the guilt was creeping back up. Especially with the way Sunghoon said it. Had this been any normal day, Sunoo would have definitely retorted a smart comeback at Sunghoon but the guilt lodged his throat up so he just stared away, turning to you instead, plastering a fake smile, “Well, I’ll go now then. Don’t go home too late and call me when you get home later yeah?”

You nodded, smiling back as a reassurance, “same to you Sunoo. Text me once you’re home.”

Sunghoon’s smile faltered seeing the genuine care you two shared. He hated seeing the way you softly beam at Sunoo, the way you gently speak to him, the way you two touch one another so casually.

He wanted to be in Sunoo’s place.

You two ended up staying until midnight at the library, too engrossed in building perfect arguments for your respective parts — one another sometimes taking on a contrarian role to find each others’ loopholes. This goes on since that day, eventually becoming the norm as of late: you and him alone in the library together — three odd combinations that no one would believe unless they see it with their own eyes. You two no longer sat apart, you two were always next to each other in the library. All the heated debates from past weeks had now evolved into productive ones. All the glares and sneers turned to genuine awe, nods and even laughter. All the snide remarks turned to playful banters. It was weird, you thought, how this had all turn out and how quickly it progressed between you two. 

“You were right, there were inconsistencies, I’ll fix it then,” he nodded, scribbling some points on his printed draft. 

“Sorry,” you muttered sheepishly, worried if you’d been too overcritical.

“Don’t be. Better to be pointed out by one another than by the professor don’t you think?”

You find your lips curling into a smile almost automatically, impressed at just how cool-headed he was. Usually you would have to be extra careful of being critical of your partners’ work lest they become offended nor defensive but Park Sunghoon was different. He does his job and not only that, if he indeed saw how valid your criticisms were, he willingly accept it and gladly revise it. Feeling your smile stretching wider than you would have liked, you turned away, your eyes landing on the big clock near the door, “Oh shit, it’s 4 AM.”

Sunghoon looked up nonchalantly, shrugging, “Well, the guard isn’t around to bark at us, might as well overstay.”

“Well, if he comes out, he’ll definitely do more than bark at us. The library should’ve been closed 2 hours ago!” You panicked, packing your things up. Sunghoon extended his hand over to yours, stopping you, “trust me. He won’t be around. For a little while at least.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “Did you make a deal with him or something? Why are you always so confident about this?”

He grinned coyly, “Not exactly a deal but I am definitely sure that he won’t be coming around.”

You shook your head dismissively, slipping your hand off his grasp, “Whatever it is. It is late and I should head back soon.”

The smile on Sunghoon faltered, visibly disappointed but he followed suit anyway, packing up. As you two walked towards the exit, the guard was indeed nowhere to be found but it was something to be grateful for anyway especially when you have overstayed your time so you didn’t think much about it. 

“What are you doing?” you asked as you two were outside, noticing that Sunghoon was still walking beside you towards the direction of the road leading up to your area, instead of the other way where his car was usually parked. 

He stared back nonchalantly, shoving his hands into his pockets, “walking you home duh.”

“Um don’t,” you stopped, “our places are like the opposite way.”

“As if I’d let you walk home alone after what happened the other day,” he scoffed, shaking his head.

“So you’d rather walk me back?” you raised your brows quizzically, “it’s going to be a 45 minute return journey for you to go back here.”

“I can take the taxi afterwards, or we can take the taxi now,” he shrugged, “Well, it will all be easy if you just swallow your pride and let me drive you back home but you were dead set on not wanting to ride in my car.”

You scoffed. Sometimes, talking with Sunghoon really felt like engaging in mind games — like he knows just how to frame the issue to make you feel bad or to make you pick the choice that would make him win. “Fine, I’ll save you the troubles then,” you heaved a huge exasperated sigh, “Just this once though.”

Sunghoon smirked, nodding and mouthing a ‘sure’, before he led you towards his G-Wagon.

“I can’t believe I have become another statistic,” you muttered to yourself as you entered his car.

“Of?”

“Of the girls that rides in Sunghoon’s car,” you grumbled, slightly struggling with the seatbelt when suddenly you saw his hand reaching over. You turned, about to protest, but was quickly shut up by how close his face was to yours with his body just mere inches away from yours. He pulled the seatbelt over you and as the seatbelt clicked, his eyes flitted away from the seatbelt to your eyes, darting momentarily to your lips before reverting, causing your heart to skip a beat, “You’re the first actually.”

Your eyebrows twitched in disbelief as he backed away, grinning smugly as if he knew the effect the move had on you. You cleared your throat, trying to sound unfazed, “with the amount of girls you’ve dated — you should’ve chose a better lie to tell me.”

“Believe it or not,” he shrugged while firing off the engine, “people usually want me more than I want them so I'd get driven around instead. That, or I'd get my chaffeur to drive me around using my family's usual chaffeured car."

“Still not having any faith in that,” you maintained, “but if it is true, then I don’t know if I should feel bad for ruining that clean streak or feel triumphant that I am the one ruining the clean streak.”

“It’s up to you,” he clicked his tongue, pressing on the gas pedal, “Let’s just say, if I wanted to. I could’ve called my chauffeur to drive us in the usual car or called up a private taxi.”

You stared at him, wondering what was he getting at. He gave you a quick glance as if trying to emphasise his point, “But I didn’t.”

It felt like he was trying to smooth talk his way to your head but you thought skeptically that he had no reason to so you decided to just ignore it, looking out of the window instead. While a few days have passed since that night, seeing the streets and alleyway where it happened always brought the terrifying memories back. You gulped, staring away immediately, squeezing your hands to calm yourself down. That apparently did not go unnoticed by Sunghoon, “You okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” you answered immediately, trying to think of other things than what happened the other night.

“I guess you were still affected by it?” he asked. Suddenly you feel his free hand enveloping yours while the other stayed on the steering wheel. His hand was cold but somehow it still gave some form of comfort, “regardless of how you try to mask it, your body keeps score y/n.”

You stared down at the way his big hand enveloped both of yours, slightly irked by the fact that you let him and also slightly irked by how comforting and calming it felt. Despite that though, unlike the usual times when you would have definitely moved your hand away, this time you didn’t. Even when his hand was freezing cold to the point that it was quickly seeping any little warmth your hands had.

You guys finally reached your place in about 10 minutes time. You muttered a quick thanks, suddenly remembering that you had wanted to give him something as a token of gratitude after incident the other night. You deliberated for a long time on what to get this cocky, rich kid, thinking that whatever he really wanted you probably couldn’t afford. Noticing how he always drank Americano in campus, you decided to get him a one-month worth of coffee voucher from the campus cafe.

“Seriously?” he looked up from the voucher to you, eyebrows raising quizzically.

“What? Not enough?” You answered blankly, slightly worried. 

“Not that,” he sighed, “I just… I don’t need material things like that.”

“Thought this would be the best functional gift that won’t cost me my liver,” you said jokingly, “I mean, you drink Americano all the time, right?”

Yeah, because it’s so dark-coloured it hides any traces of blood I usually sneakily put in, he thought to himself when you asked again, “Well, anyway, I still need to thank you though so tell me what you want Sunghoon? Anything within moral bounds and within my tax bracket, that is.”

With an eyebrow twitch and a playful smirk that, by now, you are able to interpret as him having a rather cheeky idea in mind, he said, “I haven’t had a home-cooked meal in a while. How’s that as a token of appreciation instead?”

You paused, blinking confusedly. He raised his brows, “you live alone, you should know how to cook right? Unless of course, you’ve been living off meal replacements or deliveries.”

“No of course I know how to cook. I’m not rich to be able to conveniently live off deliveries” you replied dismissively, “but, really? Home-cooked meals? That’s uh-“

“You said anything I want,” he cut you off, “that’s all I want. Simple isn’t it? I didn’t ask for no Michelin-starred dinners nor a Balenciaga.”

You sighed, relenting, “Okay okay fine. I can’t promise that it will taste as nice as restaurants though. When do you want it? I’ll send it over to your place or something.”

“You can just cook it for me live,” he deadpanned.

“So you want to see me cook it too? You’re so demanding,” you grumbled.

“Better to eat it fresh, no? Plus we get to bond more,” he quipped, “Well, if you’re uncomfortable of having me in your place then you can do it at mine?”

“Dude, both are just as questionable,” you objected.

“I can hire a kitchen space then if you like,” he offered.

“Damn, golden spoon kids are really of a different breed altogether,” you scoffed, “fine, just this once. I guess, I can let you come over.”

You grimaced just after saying that. You’re a pretty closed-off person, preferring to set boundaries on things including your personal space like your home so having to let someone breach that, especially that someone being Sunghoon was such a blow to you. But he did save you, so you definitely did owe him big time. 

“If you’re not too tired, can I ask for it now?” He smirked. 

You raised your brows, looking at your watch, “It’s almost 5 AM now.”

“Yeah, we both haven’t had dinner,” he nodded as a matter-of-factly, “also I heard your stomach rumbled a few times earlier.”

“Oh shut up,” you chuckled, ruminating for a bit, “I guess. I mean, it’s Sunday now — so I can just sleep in in the morning.”

Hence, that was why Sunghoon was at your place at the crack of dawn, looking around your humble accommodation with stars in his eyes. “I don’t know whether to be offended or not by just how much in awe you are of my place considering how you live in a mansion,” you shook your head.

“Your place is so warm and cosy — and I mean it in the best way,” he replied, looking at the books that filled your shelves up to the brim, “my place is just cold and empty. Even when it’s designed and filled with everything anyone can possibly want.”

“First world problems huh?” You remarked sarcastically at him as you opened your fridge which you had thankfully stocked up yesterday. 

“You’re very well-read aren’t you,” he asked, his fingers tracing the spine of the books he knew well for he, too, loved reading during his spare time. In fact, he was already born when some of the classics which you have in your shelf were first printed. 

You shrugged, “just felt stupid most of the time so I have to constantly read up on things. I enjoy them too so it’s a win-win.”

He scoffed incredulously, “you’re one of the smartest person I’ve personally known, you shouldn’t put yourself down like that.”

Noticing you staring at him, he just smiled, wiggling his brows, “what?”

“You really need to drop all the sweet talks,” you shook your head disapprovingly as you switched on the stove, “it may work on others but not on me okay? Not when it comes from you.”

“They’re not sweet talks,” he gave you a quick playful glance before sitting on the stool near you, observing your every move, “so nothing to drop right?”

You exhaled sharply, deciding to ignore him again. He smiled to himself, enjoying the sight. Everything just felt so warm and cozy — literally and symbolically. It was a feeling he hadn't felt for a long time since every thing always felt too distant, too cold and too empty for him — be it places or people.

Obviously, being a vampire, food offers no satisfaction nor satiation at all so he never liked doing it. But he thought it was the perfect way for him to linger around you a little longer than usual, a perfect way to get a little deeper into your life which to him was still shrouded in so much mystery. Usually he would have to spike his food with blood just to get the eating part done and over with but with you, over stories, jokes, laughter and banters, he gobbled it up without, not even realizing that so much time had passed and that the sun have already risen.

“Let me,” Sunghoon muttered when you gathered the plates by the sink, about to wash it once you guys finished your meal. You shook your head, “no don’t worry about it.”

You then felt his body against your back, his hand reaching over to grab the dishes you were rinsing in your hand, his head leaning low towards your level. Suddenly becoming hyperaware of the way his chest was pressing against your back, you were forced to acquiesce, suddenly feeling shy, “Sure, just don’t break them.”

You scooted to the side, taking a nearby clean cloth to dry out the plates that he had just washed, “Wow, I’m surprised you know how to do the dishes.”

He chuckled drily, pressing on the dish soap dispenser, “it’s not rocket science. I know how to do the laundry too, would you like to see that?”

"No thanks," you shook your head dismissively, "Pretty sure other girls would die for a shot of that though."

“You should stop trying so hard you know,” he mumbled suddenly.

“Huh? At what? The project? We’re this close to-”

“No,” he deadpanned, “At keeping me at arm’s length.”

You gave him a momentary glance which he took as an affirmation so he continued as he dried his hand on a napkin nearby, “Can’t you see that maybe our fates are meant to intertwine? If it’s already fated, you can’t outrun it no matter how fast you run. So might as well just go with it.”

You didn’t reply to that immediately as what he had just said was indeed something that floated in your mind once or twice over the past few weeks. No matter how hard you try, especially given how you have a very risk-averse and rather preventative attitude, he was just always around that your efforts just end up futile. Sometimes you wonder if perhaps you are indeed destined to get closer to him, to be friends instead of just course mates? But then again, regardless of that and your gradually improving relations and perception of Sunghoon, you can never fully shake the nagging feeling at the pit of your stomach. That everything is just too good to be true that it almost feels like a set up. Like you’re a rat in a maze. 

“I’m not keeping you at arm’s length,” you finally said, "I just take a long time to warm up."

"Ages," he emphasized, "Thank God, I have eternity."

You scoffed thinking that he was being sarcastic when he had actually meant it literally that he had eternity.

“So we’re friends?” he asked, leaning against the counter next to you. You shrugged, “I guess?”

“Then would you let me crash on your couch?”

“You are really shameless aren’t you?” You scoffed. He chuckled as he walked towards the living room and plopped himself on the couch, “just until the sun’s up high. I’m on a food coma right now and I’m a bit sleep-deprived lately, I don't think I can drive safely.”

You opened your mouth to protest, feeling slightly uncomfortable at the thought but considering the risk of him driving while having no sleep and having just eaten made you think twice. You reluctantly agreed, “I guess. No funny business okay?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nodded, before the usual smirk starts enveloping his lips, “For safety measures just lock your door alright?”

“You’re relentless,” you scoffed, throwing the cloth at him as you switched off the lights in the kitchen. “I’ll head to my room alright. Just lock the main door when you leave later. No need to inform me or anything.”

Already laying down on your tan couch, he flashed his thumbs up. He watched you walk past the hallway into your bedroom thinking just how far he had gotten just from saving you, from making you feel indebted. Should have done it way back, he thought to himself, would have saved some time.

Obviously, being a vampire, he would never get food-coma nor would he feel sleep-deprived so indeed they were all just excuses. Excuses to stay around longer. Unknowingly a smirk was enveloping his lips as he placed both hands under his head in a leisure manner. If only you knew just how much danger you were putting yourself in right now, he thought. The smirk faltered the longer he stared at your closed door, boring holes into it as he felt something within him brewing. Suddenly, the memory of just how intoxicatingly tempting your blood had smelled like resurfaced, causing his mouth to water. Such a perfect timing, he thought, you and him alone, in the dead of the dawn. No one to hear you scream, no one to help you. As such thoughts brew into the usual toxic mix, he can feel his throat drying up, suddenly becoming so parched, while his gums tingled — signs that the his fangs were unfolding into its full length. 

Shit, he thought, he was going to lose it soon. He immediately got off the couch, summoning every bit of strength and rationality he had to fight his carnal desires to not just break your door and attack you. In a frantic hurry, he left your apartment, got on his car and fired on the gas pedal as if the cops were after him. Jay must have been right, he thought, there must have been something about your blood that really piqued his senses since he has not even tasted it and yet this was how far and low it had driven him. He scoffed at himself, clutching the steering wheel.

That aside though, what is still mysterious to him was why he even stopped himself. Everything was falling into place so impeccably like he always wanted: he got your guards down and he got you to trust him — it would have been a perfect opportunity since it was at your own place too. Like inviting a lion to your own house, it would have been the ultimate “I told you so” to her. And yet, instead of doing just that, he ended up fighting every last bit of rationality and conscience back there, to not let his predatory self took over and lay a hand on you. 

Perhaps, he wanted to taunt you a little longer, he thought.

Or perhaps, he had grown to enjoy your company.

“Oh my God, that clicks!” Sunoo exclaimed, gasping as he shuffled through the wad of papers on his table, “look, it’s the same like what you saw! Tall guy, clad in all black, gangly, mid-20s, eerily wide smile, a disturbingly gritty voice, bony hands, and glowy-ish eyes!”

“I guess,” you shrugged, taking another bite of the matcha brownie that Sunoo just got you from the cafe beside the Press Society Club Room. You had some time to spare after your last seminar class so you decided to give your bestfriend a visit. That being said, instead of some meaningful catching-up, he was busy badgering you with questions about that night when you were attacked — bribing you with your favourite matcha brownie and coffee, “I mean — since you’ve gotten all these info from these witnesses, don’t you think the police are already on his tail investigating this or something?”

Ni-Ki, the other guy in the room who was busy toggling with his DSLR, scoffed, “If the police are even a fraction as useful, you wouldn’t end up running into that man at all because some of these witnesses have reported their encounters like as far as 2 months ago.”

Ni-Ki is Sunoo’s close friend, a polar opposite that he got quickly close to given their similar hobbies which made them members of the same clubs: Dance Society and Press Society. Ni-Ki is skinny and tall, with pouty lips, sharp eyes, and deep voice. He wasn’t the easiest to approach given how he has a rather intimidating resting face but whenever you bump into him, he had always been very cordial: greeting you first and engaging in conversations with you. You clicked your tongue, “shit, you’re right. So what are you guys planning then? I mean all these reports, the articles, the pictures — that’s not just prep for some 1/4 page feature.”

“Bingo,” Sunoo snapped his fingers, beaming proudly as he tapped onto the mountain of papers in front of him, “It will be the next hottest special article from us. After that scum tried to kill my best friend, best believe I won’t stay put.”

You gave Sunoo a small smile, one that shows how appreciative you were but also one that was slightly concerned by how ambitious it all was, “I mean not to doubt you two since you guys have co-authored some of the best articles ever written by the School’s paper but what could the school paper cover that hasn’t been in the official press? And like what could a school paper do with its limited exposure anyway? Wont you guys just be, I dont know, fear mongering?”

“I knew it, if anyone would raise these kind of questions, it would be my smart bestie,” Sunoo smirked, as if already expecting the question and already having the answers prepped, “First things first, the press have done a shoddy job at reporting these cases — like all the alarming facts were just glazed over, no connections were made, no alarms were sound — nothing. It was weird, it’s like they didn’t care or something.”

“If you ask me, I would think that both the police and the press were eating from the same hand this time,” Ni-Ki chimed in, eyebrows wiggling as he mouthed the word “corruption”.

“Anyways,” Sunoo continued, “as I was saying, basically we had to do a lot of digging because apparently not a lot of news covered the important details such as the autopsy report, God knows why. We found that some of these bodies are reported to be almost bloodless, with some odd cuts over their necks but even that wouldn’t have been enough to leak that much blood out of the human body. Even bizarrely, there are no traces of their blood around the area which then brings the assumption that this was a rather well-planned murder, not a spur of the moment one, because it is likely that the body has been taken elsewhere, drained of blood then dumped elsewhere. In other words, with more than one killings being like this, we are definitely not dealing with just any normal murderer."

“Sounds good,” you nodded in agreement, pondering over the papers sprawled over the counter, “You guys will also be putting a question mark on a story, it will definitely get people talking-“

Your phone suddenly rang. You stared at it quizzically, trying to figure out who the unregistered number belonged was but decided to just take it, “Hello? Who is this?”

“Not sure if I should feel offended that you don’t recognise my voice or that you’re not here right now when we’re supposed to meet?”

It was indeed a very familiar voice. You pored your head over who that voice could belonged to and who could you be meeting with at almost 7.30PM. “Oh shoot, right Sunghoon sorry. I’ll be right there in 5-10 minutes.”

It would actually be the last night that you and Sunghoon would be working together since the deadline of your work will be by 9AM tomorrow. All hunched up in the usual desk by the large windows of the East Wing in the library, you felt a hint of pensiveness at the thought. Working with Sunghoon, have after all been such a breeze: he was smart, accommodating and cooperative — everything you could ever want from a project partner. Not to mention, as much as you didn’t want to admit, what made your time with him a little bit enjoyable and memorable than you expected was the fact that he turned out to be a decent person. Full of wit, charm, playfulness and worldliness — which you never expect someone with a pretty and wealth privilege like his would ever possess.

Deeply concentrating in finalising your joint-work, you didn’t even realise that midnight had rolled in until your concentrations were abruptly halted by the guard roughly knocking both of your tables. You jumped in your seat, realizing that this had been the first time you had seen him in quite a while, “Sorry guys, didn’t you see the notice outside? We’re closing at 12.30 AM tonight due to some maintenance work. Go pack up now.”

You heaved an exasperated sigh as you reluctantly closed your laptop shut, “we were so close though.”

“We can continue some place else,” Sunghoon answered calmly as he packed his things up.

“You’re right,” you agreed as you slung your backpack over your shoulder and walked next to him down the aisle, “Do you know any cafe that closes late nearby?”

“Bars do,” he grinned as he propped the door open, beckoning you to pass, “I wasn’t thinking of cafes by the way.” 

Suddenly he grabbed the backpack that was loosely slung over your shoulder, slinging it over his instead, “I was thinking of my place.”

You paused, blinking quizzically at him, trying to process if you had heard wrongly.

“You didn’t hear wrongly,” he uttered as if he could read your mind, “Why? Are you scared?”

“I’d rather go to the bar.”

He snickered, “yeah right. Come on, my place is only 5 minutes away and our deadline is 9 AM tomorrow.”

“What about your housemates?”

“Not to brag,” he smirked, “but I was talking about my other house, my own personal apartment where I usually stay at if I need some time alone.”

You pondered as you trailed slowly behind him. Indeed, he has by then proven numerous times just how much of a decent person he was which meant that being alone with him in his place should not be an issue. That being said, you still have this nagging feeling deep seated within you that still seemed to be warning you to not let your guard down — to stay away. But then you thought about how you guys were like only a quarter away from being done with the project and that you had spent countless times alone with him during which nothing happened so you just chalked up such feeling into irrational paranoia, yet again. 

“I guess,” you acquiesced, “Just until we finish our work.”

Sunghoon’s apartment differed vastly from the bachelor pad he shared with his little clique. Located at the top floor of the most expensive apartment complex in the area, his penthouse which was designed in an industrial architecture style, was spacious and had a dark colour scheme throughout — almost monochromatic, giving off a rather clean and sleek look but a bit too dark and cold even for someone like you who had always gravitated towards darker colours schemes. 

“Okay, I mean I know you’re rich but this is just on a whole new level. Now I’m even more offended at the way you stare around my place in awe last time. You must have felt like a tourist — exploring how the average Joe lives on a student budget,” you blabbered, swivelling around slowly to take a good look at his lofty penthouse. Its curtains automatically drew open as you approach the floor-to-ceiling windows of the open space, revealing the glorious view of the city and a nearby river at night, “If I were you, I’d rather live here than that rowdy bachelor pad of yours with your little clique.”

“I overthink a lot so I need their rowdiness in my life to drown it.”

You looked at him beside you, detecting a slight sad undertone, “You have everything anyone could possibly want and you’re still overthinking things?”

“Oh trust me, not everything,” he turned towards you with a small smile, “would trade all I have for that one thing to be honest.”

“Is this the same with your weakness?” You raised your eyebrows, “the one you told me would cost my life?”

“Yeah,” he nodded with a sly grin, “they’re kind of related. So? What do you say? Want to take up the offer?”

“No thanks,” you shook your head dismissively. Setting your backpack on the counter nearby, taking out your laptop and notes, “let’s get working, I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

“Oh please, you can overstay all you want dear,” Sunghoon answered in a sing-song voice. You shot him a glare over the last word to which he just winked at. Sunghoon initially recommended that you two work in the study room or lounge room, where it would be more comfortable but you insisted to stay in the living room — actually feeling more comfortable in the open space area, closer to the main door, rather than anywhere deeper and isolated. You two immediately got immersed in your work, not realising that time flew by across all the debates, discussions, amendments, revisions and banters. Only after having amended and revised the paper almost a billionth time now did you guys finally run out of things to amend.

“Or maybe our brain is just too fried for this already,” you heaved a heavy sigh as your scrolled down the 15-page report, “Shall we?”

“After you, you’re the main Architect,” he gesticulated for you to press the submit button. You dismissed him, grabbing his hand, “Hey, I do love to play Sherlock but for this project, there ain’t no Watson. We are both  the main architect of it. We are both Sherlocks.” You assured, beaming as you placed his hand on the mouse and then yours on his, guiding the cursor to the ‘submit’ button through his hand and clicking it after you received his final nod.

“Okay…. Now I can just hibernate,” you heaved a huge sigh of relief as you leaned back against the couch with your head thrown back, eyes closed. He stared at you all slumped on the couch, finding himself smiling as if endeared. He plopped himself next to you, his body facing you while his head rest on his palm with his elbows propped against the head rest. Though his eyes immediately fixated itself on your exposed neck, it was also increasingly distracted by your face. At your lips to be precise, which were parted and looked plush, looking almost inviting. He swallowed thickly, feeling some sort of gravitational pull all of a sudden.

“Stop staring, I can feel you burning holes,” you grumbled lethargically. 

“You were, too,” he replied. You can hear his smirk from the tone of his voice. You opened your eyes, slightly startled as it immediately met his gaze. He was, as usual, unfazed, “At Jay’s party. You were gawking remember?”

“Okay first things first,” you straightened up and then turned to him, “I was not gawking nor snooping around. You were the one making out in a rather public space. You can’t blame me if I walk into you. I mean if you’re so shy about it, you should’ve made out in one of the rooms.”

“Did you like what you see?” He grinned slyly, “because you were staring for quite a long time.”

“I was not,” you retorted, “okay maybe I did stare for like just a second too long. But that wasn’t because of you guys making out — I was just thinking — “

“That Sunghoon bones the Cheer captain for grades?” he interjected so casually. 

“Exactly. You took the words straight out of my mouth,” you said dryly, “Are you a mind reader or something? How is it that you can always tell what I am going to say.”

He shrugged with a smug grin on his face, “I just have a long experience with a lot of people. That and an unhealthy liking for Psychology.”

“Ah, that explains your penchant for mind games.”

“Well, it takes two to tango,” he said, biting the smile that was blooming on his face, “you’re good at it too.”

You were going to reply him with something but suddenly you became hyperaware of the way he was staring into your eyes. While getting stared at by Sunghoon was nothing new to you, the way he just kept gazing into your eyes as if trying to probe the depth of your mind was starting to make you feel self-conscious. There was almost this dopey, dreamy and dazed look to it which Sunoo had always told you is a warning sign to look out for. It’s kind of the look of awe and if you let it linger for a second longer, that gaze would probably change into something else — one which just screams that they want to get in your pants, Sunoo explained once, earning him a loud smack on the back by yours truly. You gulped, eyes blinking nervously as you start to feel something shifting in the atmosphere. While you were sure that seducing you would be the last thing in that campus heartthrob’s mind, it did made you feel nervous so, while feigning nonchalance you rose up and start to pack, “well, since we’re done, I should get going.”

“You can just stay,” he prompted ever so casually — which should be unsurprising as he has probably said that to other girls like millions of times (or vice versa). Standing by the counter where your backpack was, you begun shoving your books and stationaries inside, mumbling “Don’t be silly. The sun will be up in about an hour and a half.”

“Exactly,” he emphasized. You feel him coming up behind you, his body just mere inches away from your back, making you slightly nervous, “stay until sunrise then. There are no buses at this hour and taxis would just rip you off.”

“In a place so luxurious like this, I’d sleep like a baby and end up missing my 2PM class later so it’s a hard pass,” you rambled, saying absolutely anything out of nervousness. You slung your backpack over your shoulders and turned around, ready to leave but he didn’t budge and when you were angling to walk past him, he extended his arm, resting his hand against the counter behind you, blocking you, “why the haste y/n? Anything wrong?”

You would have stuffed up another lie but you find yourself instantly silenced when you looked up at him, meeting his gaze that had by then changed into something more unnerving. Long gone were those soft gazes. Perhaps it was the fact that he towered over you and was looking down at you but his hooded gaze was so intense and almost domineering, slightly sultry too, that it felt almost invasive and unsettling.

Sunghoon however felt the opposite, if his expressions and body language hadn’t given that away already. While staring at you was nothing out of ordinary for him to do, perhaps the way your relationship had progressed made the feat all the more addictive — as if your eyes were hypnotic or something. As if it was an ocean and all he wanted was to swim in it. He didn’t even notice that a thunder had just struck outside for all he see was you.

“It’s the crack of dawn Sunghoon,” you tried to diffuse the situation, feeling the tension in the air getting heavier, “I don’t have the bandwidth for your Mind Games.”

“We can always cut the chase,” he drawled, gradually lowering his face down, inching closer to yours. You noticed his stare flitting from your eyes to your lips, then back again with his gaze multiplying in intensity each time. You suddenly feel his other free hand come up to your shoulders, grasping the strap of your bag.

“What are yo-“ you fumbled, about to shove his hand off but his other hand was quick enough to grab your hand away as the other pulled your bag strap down your arm, letting it drop to the floor. He then took a few steps closer towards you, forcing you to retreat back. “Sunghoon, stop it-“ you cautioned. There was no mistaking his intent now as he placed his hand on the counter behind you, resting on either side of your waist, completely trapping you.

“Your guard dog is always this close to you, why are you suddenly shy when it comes to me?” He egged.

It would be a lie to say you weren’t unnerved but you weren’t one to just easily show any sign of fear nor vulnerability so you curtly replied, "I thought you said you’re good in Psychology but you seem to not know the difference between shyness and disgust.” you replied curtly as your mind went on overdrive, piecing puzzles of your past, specifically all the moments with him that seemed too inorganic to be coincidence and too good to be true. From Jungwon getting hospitalised suddenly; him becoming your new project partner; the security guard being missing most of the time; the maniac; him saving you; and now, it all culminated, to this. You swallowed thickly, still not wanting to believe that he could be this devious and manipulative — that it’s all just you and your usual unreasonable cynicism.   

Sunghoon scoffed, pressing his tongue against the inside of his cheek as his lips slowly curl into a wry grin before it all faltered. With a twitch of an eyebrow, he inched his face closer to your level, cautioning you in a low voice, “you should be careful with your mouth — you think you can win a game with the person who created the playing field in the first place?”

With that, it all then fell into place. You weren’t too cynical nor paranoid. Your gut feelings had indeed been right all along — as if it was warning you of the malice he is capable of, of the malice he will do to you. But it was too late for you have willingly walked into the tiger’s dent. “you call that a game? It was just child’s play,” you spat, “All of your orchestrations, all the effort — they’re not working. Because if they did, I’d buckle right now for you — like all the other girls. But that isn’t the case is it? All I feel right now is an ever-greater contempt and disgust for you, in case you’re socially inept to have not picked that up from my facial expressions and body language.”

You feel a sense of triumph when you see his smug grin faltered within seconds, eyebrows twitching as if your words had seared exactly where his pride was. But such sense of triumph was short-lived. You can see now that that apparently was not the wisest move for his eyes darkened in a mixture of vehemence and lust — a concoction of thoughts and feelings rarely felt in tandem for him. He hated your guts but the intensity of the vehemence was somehow fuelling his existing attraction towards you — it was like a vicious self-reinforcing spiral. 

Now, Sunghoon wasn’t one to make rash moves. He was always so cautious. Every moves are often well-calculated and schemed. But at that time, it didn’t matter anymore. All he saw was red and all he wanted right now was to shut you up — in a way you loathe the most, of course. Wrapping his hand behind your neck, he crashed his lips onto yours, the warmth of which was gradually enveloping all his senses, pushing it into new highs, making him hungry for more. You froze, unable to immediately register the sudden unexpected move he had pulled. Only when his other hand slipped itself on the small of your back to pull you even closer, leaving minimal to no spaces in between, did you finally snap out of it and react. While you tried to push him off with as much strength as you could muster, he did not budge at all. He was after all bigger than you and stronger so any push or punch you threw were futile against him.

If anything, it seemed to embolden him even more with his kiss growing more intense and fierce. All the frustrations, contempt and attraction that was building up to this moment, was fuelling his hunger and desire even more that it was almost carnal as he pushed his body up against you, pressing you uncomfortably against the countertop. With flight and fight response now on overdrive, you balled your hands into fist, hitting him wherever your hand could land which forced him to loosen his restrains on you as he tried to take your hands away. This gave you the opportunity to peel yourself away from his grasp especially since he was getting too delirious.

“you fucking prick.” you spat, managing to free yourself and immediately rushing to the other side, all breathless. You harshly wiped your throbbing lips with the back of your hand, feeling disgusted and slightly dazed.

Sunghoon smirked at the sight. You looked as ruined as he wished you to be: lipstick smudged, hair slightly dishevelled, and your shirt was sliding off one shoulder as the top button came undone in your struggle earlier. “You see, I’m not a patient person,” he took a step towards you, “but I’m glad I’ve dragged this whole thing out. The look of betrayal and disgust on your face — it’s so…. gratifying to see.” He chuckled menacingly, suddenly reminded of the look of disgust that you flashed at him at the night of the party.

Your brows knit in alarm and disgust. Sensing another danger coming as you see the hunger in his eyes emblazoning, you made a dash towards the main door. 

“I’m not done with you!” you hear him scream across the hall as you grasp the large handle of the door, feeling hopeful that you could make it as the sound of his voice indicated that he was still in the living room but to your horror, just within a few seconds of opening the door, it shut back close with such a force. You didn’t know how he had got to the door so fast but you can feel him behind you, his large hand resting just above the handle, preventing you from reopening it. You feel your breath hitch as you feel his breath on your ear, “I said I’m not done with you."

“Let. Go. You. Fucking. Scum.” you seethed. You were going to elbow him right in the ribs, which could’ve bought you time to escape, but unfortunately this was Sunghoon you were dealing with. Not only did he manage to block your blow but as he grasped your arm, he harshly spun you around, slamming your back hard against the wooden door — his large hands pinning yours against it. 

“Playtime’s over dear,” he drawled menacingly, his gaze now steely and cold — sending shivers down your spine. He thought he smelled something and he was right: your blood. He scoffed as his eyes zeroed into your lips where blood had formed on the crack at the centre of your lower lip. What a fucking perfect timing, he thought to himself, as he felt the hunger within him deepening.

Suddenly you can see an inhumane glint in his eyes as he tilted his head. It then struck you that it was the same glint that you saw from the maniac who had attacked you just a week prior — the glint of which, now you belatedly realized and remembered you first saw from Sunghoon that night during Jay’s party though you had made yourself believe at that time that it was merely your eyes playing tricks on you.

“I actually wanted to be gentle with you, to drag it all even slowly. You’ve made this hunt so enjoyable, I thought you deserve that. You know as a gift,” he said in a sing-song manner before hissing in a low voice, “but you’re making it fucking hard.”

You swallowed thickly, realising that no amount of strength you had put was enough to even shift his grasp over you by a bit. I’m done for, you thought in horror. As if that was not horrifying enough, you noticed how Sunghoon’s canines, which were already so pronounced to begin with, seemed to have grown longer. While busy scrutinising his changing features however, Sunghoon had moved to recapture your lips into yet another needy kiss, but now sloppier — reflecting the hunger that had grown so entrenched and urgent within. You feel his tongue brushing over your bottom lip, making you wince, before sending you thrashing harder when you feel him softly nibbling and sucking on your bottom lip. You turned your head away trying to free yourself and catch your breath but to your horror, Sunghoon had begun to trail open-mouthed kisses down your cheek then down your neck. You feel his tongue brushing against a particular spot on your neck, sending shivers down your spine. His teeth then grazed your bare neck — the sharpness of which was alarming for a normal human teeth, “I’ll try to make it quick but let me tell you, it will only hurt more if you struggle,” he murmured and not even a second after, you feel a sudden prick of pain over the area. 

“What the fuck, Park s-“ you cussed, brows furrowed in a mixture of alarm and confusion, did he just bite me, you thought. You can feel something warm gliding down your neck. You didn't know what it was but suddenly you feel slightly light-headed. You wanted to yell and scream but your voice were all choked up, energy suddenly draining that you could not even push Sunghoon off even when he had let your arms go, his hands now grasping you by the back of your head and back while his head was buried even deeper into the crook of your neck, his body pushing you up against the door. Whatever was gliding down your neck had now begun dripping onto your right hand, as it was laying limp beside you. You summoned every last bit of strength to lift your hand to see what it was. To your horror, it was blood. But it was too late. Way too late. You had no strength left and your consciousness was hanging by a thread. Your visions were getting dimmer by the second and your senses were growing num. 

Suddenly it all seemed to click: the inhumane glint in his eyes; the otherworldly charm and ability to read mind; the Cheer Captain’s accident; Jungwon being hospitalised from sudden anaemia; him saving you from the maniac; his shrouded background — it all formed one big shocking picture that tied so well into the context of the rising cases of missing persons and bloodless murders beyond your town: vampires. Though it still sounded silly in your head, what is for certain is that Sunghoon happened to be one of them. But none of all that mattered because it was too late. You would probably die soon, you thought, and that meant the truth will die with you. 

Within the last moments of your consciousness, you realised that you had indeed been nothing but like a rat in a maze — stuck only to traverse paths he had designed for you. You weakly scoff at yourself. You should have trusted your gut feelings. The bad vibes you sensed — it wasn’t just paranoia nor prejudice, it was your inert self sensing danger. Just like how certain animals have overdeveloped their senses to better protect themselves from predators, your gut instincts was trying to do exactly that. But this time, you decided not to listen — the price of which you’re paying with your life.

A/N: YASSSS I’ve finally finished it phew. I hope you like this as much as I did. It took so long to make — sorry for that but I hope the wait is worth it. Please let me know how I’ve done with this one — so much effort has gone into this, I’m drained of any creative juices now. I’m sure you’ve seen millions of writers posting just how valuable comments are. Whether they're praising us or giving constructive feedbacks, they do so much for us. Basically just, feedbacks <3 while likes and reblogs are much appreciated too, it is the feedbacks that keeps us going — telling us that all the sleepless nights, hunched on the table were worth it. So with that, I shall bid you adieu. Hope you enjoyed it :3

 ▶︎ [update: Part 2 is up - click me !]

Masterlist 

#enhypen vampire #enhypen imagines #enhypenwriters #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen sunghoon imagines #park sunghoon #enhypen scenarios #enhypen #sunghoon imagines #Sunghoon vampire #enhypen fluff #kpop imagines #sunghoon scenarios #enhypen sunghoon scenarios #kpop scenarios #enhypen x reader #enhypen x female reader #enhypen vampire au

[seraph-of-sizes]

Broken Homes of Different Sizes pt2

Borrower Lyney and Lynette, Human Freminet (Slight au with borrowers existing, everything else is the same as canon)

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

Freminet was exhausted.

When the House of the Hearth had changed hands, he thought it to be of no consequence to him. He would just follow the orders of the new caretaker and vanish into the background again.

Wrong.

The new caretaker was a literal Harbinger. Number Four, the Knave.

Honestly he could admit to himself that the first impressions of her left him terrified. The way she spoke, how she held herself. She was so confident in a way Freminet could never imagine for himself. 

She had spent the time to meet with each orphan within the Hearth personally, and his meeting with her had been the most stressful encounter he had to date. Not even watching his claymore drip with the blood of his targets held a candle to the focus he had to have to maintain his composure.

She had reduced his tasks to simple espionage. The blood he was used to was now replaced with fake prop blood. He was placed behind enemy lines as a helpless child that needed to be taken care of. It still had orders to follow, but now he had to navigate social situations as well. Intel gathering was alright, but that meant speaking to people.

So he would usually spend hours in the oceans to clear his mind before returning home, or on especially exhausting days he would skip the trip and go straight home. 

But spending more time in his home, he began to notice things. What he had originally chalked up to mice was more… methodical. Planned out, paper wasn’t chewed up but cut cleanly. Small slits in food bags that were practically unnoticeable, which should have been more obviously ripped. 

It reminded him of some older fairytales about creatures called Borrowers.

He almost ignored it, if there were borrowers here they were just trying to lives their lives, just like him. But he couldn’t help the small curiosity in his heart as he reread all of his books on the tiny race. It was the one thing he began to look forward to. 

He started buying more foods, stuff he could leave out for them, but it also meant he was eating better than he had in a while. His own health became a side thought  when completing an order after all.

It was after a horrible day where he had disappointed Father that he saw them for the first time. He had performed his task perfectly, however while returning to the Hearth to report back he had been attacked by some Treasure Hoarders.

He was already tired from his mission, and it was one that required him to leave his claymore at the Hearth. All he had to defend himself was a knife and his vision.

He yelped as an arrow lodged into his shin as he jumped off of a cliff and dove into the water. To avoid them following him or tracking him he would have to swim far past the meeting spot. He grumbled softly as he realized he would have to emerge from the water, dress his wound, and still trek for 10 minutes to the spot.

He was going to be late for certain.

“I’m disappointed in you, Freminet.” He hid his flinch at The Knave’s silent jeer. “Late and injured because you let your guard down.”

He swallowed roughly, keeping his mouth firmly shut. After all, machines do not speak unless they are told to.

“Hm. I suppose you have been working quite diligently. Take a week to rest, perhaps I’ve pushed you too far with all of these tasks back to back.” She hummed. “You are dismissed.”

“Yes Father.” He bowed and carefully walked away, only to nearly collapse once he was out of her sight. He placed a hand to his chest and could feel his heart fluttering like a bird trapped in a cage. He took deep breaths as he retrieved his claymore, aptly named ‘the Bell’ for its likeness to a clock, one that could be cranked to chime on certain hours.

The trek to his ‘house’ was a slow one, he took his time, but stuck to alleyways since he still had some fake blood still caked on his skin. He winced as he noticed his wound had bled through the gauze and was leaving a trail of red behind him.

He picked up his pace. The sooner he could get home, the sooner he could wash up and redress his leg.

He fumbled with his keys before walking into the empty home. Perhaps he could make some sort of perpetual music box to fill the silence.

He leaned his claymore against the wall and collapsed onto his couch. He knew he should get cleaned up as soon as possible, but his mind was forcing him to feel all of the emotions he had repressed from the day. 

He stared into space, trying desperately to lock them all back into a tiny box, then throw away the key. But the damn box wouldn’t stay closed!

“Father said I mustn't cry…” He whispered, tears pooling in his eyes, no matter how long he held them open. A choked whimper left his throat as the first tear fell, then another.

He tried. Really he did.

At least he knew better than to cry loudly, the silent tears were accompanied by an occasional hiccup, but after a few moments they were forced back. 

A gentle ticking made him sigh as he wiped his face. He slowly stood up and turned towards the kitchen to get a quick snack before his wash.

His eyes widened in shock as the soft gasp that came from what looked like a tiny girl, stood shock-still on his countertop. Panic response in crisis, Fight, Flight, Fawn, Freeze.

She was obviously the Freeze type.

“H-hello?” He greeted awkwardly, taking a slow step forwards. Just as he was going to introduce himself a hiss left him as the sharp pinprick of pain that brought all of his attention back to the wound on his leg.

He blinked as he watched the girl race off, aided by anemo somehow. It wasn’t until he noticed the ousia residue from her attack as it reacted with his neuma alignment that he realized she must have a vision.

Which was almost more startling that discovering her in the first place. After all visions are given out by Celestia, so therefore the heavens must view Borrowers as people.

Ugh, his head was starting to ache, and his leg was starting to burn. He glanced down only for his eyes to widen as the small arrow buried in his leg, the fletches of the arrow smoking from Pyro infusement.

So there are two.

Mulling over that thought, Freminet removed the tiny arrow, placing it on the counter. He then went and cleaned himself off, redressed his leg with proper bandages, even ate some restorative medicine.

Once that was done he returned to the main room, his curiosity eating at him. He had to figure out more about his roommates before it would let him sleep. The fact it felt like a recon mission has nothing to do with it.

Slowly he denoted every possible entry and exit point, and multiple holes in the walls. After thoroughly memorizing it all, he began to try to locate their built spaces in the walls. Echolocation wasn’t just for bats, a lot of marine life used something similar. Sharks, whales, and more.

Freminet frowned as he walked to the other side of the massive bookshelf. Another knock confirmed his suspicions.

Carefully he pulled the massive paperweight away from the wall, grinning triumphantly as he heard the pitch of the knock change dramatically.

Found them.

#genshin g/t #g/t #genshin impact g/t #g/t writing #sfw g/t #tiny!lyney #tiny!lynette #Broken home au

[larvasmoon]

Portrait of the pale elf (2) - Rough sketches of a stranger

Chapter Summary : Who is a painter if she cannot paint anymore ? Selene has reached a dead-end, she is uninspired and despaired, wandering aimlessly in the streets of Baldur's Gate. But it is without counting on the fact that one fateful encounter can change anything and everything, and set in motion the wheel of fortune.

Warnings : Abuse. Mention of past abuse. Teasing. Pining.

Word count : 3,6k

Authors's Note : In this chapter I'm introducing my OC, Selene, a shy little painter. Tav will be part of this story too, but not yet :) You can also find this story on my Ao3. I hope you will enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it !

How strange it is to lose something you thought you’d always have, Selene thought, as she sat in front of a blank canvas. 

As far as she could remember, she’d always had fingers stained with paint or charcoal. It had came to her as naturally as her first breath, or as the first clumsy steps of a child. 

There was a silence now in her mind, an absence that she didn’t quite understand. As if a long lost version of her past self had packed all her belongings, and left her to rot in a world devoid of beauty.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t inspired, she could’ve painted anything and everything. She’d only have to take few steps outside to find a pretty view in Baldur’s Gate.

She was simply terrified to do so, after that one incident.

Come back, Please come back to me, she silently prayed to Déneïr, or to any other god that had once taken an interest in the follies of artists. How am I supposed to live this way ?, she kept begging, night and day, day and night, but no answer ever came, either from the sky above, or from her own paralyzed psyche. 

Weeks after weeks, months after months, torn pieces of paper after torn pieces of paper, ripped canvases after ripped canvases, she wasted away. She grew thin and sickly, sleepless and with no appetite for life. 

It would have been fine if she was the only one to suffer from this peculiar affliction, but Selene wasn’t free to paint when she felt like it. She had responsibilities, paintings to finish in time, and a master painter to please. 

Damian Fallheel, was an acclaimed and renowned artist amongst Baldur’s Gate nobility. She was nothing but an orphan, an half-elf little girl with no prospects and future, when he’d taken her in. 

One day, he’d walked by the steps of the orphanage she was sitting on, furiously drawing on a stone with chalks. Even after all this time, she still remembered how dazzling he looked to her children’s eyes.

He stood tall above her in the declining light of the late afternoon, cladded in dark blue silk and golden jewelries. His long blond hair was tied by a red ribbon in his back, and he had the most beautiful golden eyes she'd ever seen. Everything, from the way he was dressed to the way he moved, reminded her that they should not have been breathing the same air.

If the sun had been graced with a body and a face, he would've looked like Damian, so the little girl guessed that he was a sun elf. He could only be a high ranking nobility one, like the pretty people that she sometimes saw when she dared to go to the limits of the higher city, just to get a glimpse of the "toffs" as the other kids would say.  

His bright eyes curiously followed the motions of her fingers, the swirls and the scratches, the halts and the continuations. Crouching down to be at eye level with her, he then stared at her drawing intently for a few minutes.

What he saw in that unskilful drawing made by an eight year old girl, she would never know.

Selene’s small heart hammered in her chest, because it was the first time someone had ever taken an interest in her at all. It was as if she suddenly realized that she existed. Her whole life she’d felt as though she was an invisible spectator, sitting on the side of the stage of life, waiting to be given a role to play. 

Strangers usually passed by the streets without a glance, cats curled up by the plants pots behind her for a nap, couples giggled and kissed arm in arm. But no one ever went out their way like this. Ever.

He softly traced the colorful butterfly wings she’d drawn with his fingertips. "Do you like to draw, child ?"

"It’s the only thing I’ve ever liked", she shyly replied with an adorable lisp, hiding her blushing cheeks behind her black hair. 

"Drawing is akin to magic, you know. Things that are real, things that aren’t, it doesn’t matter. You will always have the world, and beyond, at the tips of your fingers. It’s a gift." 

As he was talking to her about the beauty of art, she felt as though he was part of the things she’d like to have at the tips of her fingers. At night, when all the other children would be asleep in the dormitory, she’d slip away by the kitchens, and light a candle in secret. While the whole world would be dreaming, far far away, she’d draw him by memory, to never forget this moment.

Sad days weren’t scarce in orphanages. Some kids would cling to a book, a toy, or a small object left with them by their parents, to survive in the hardest of times. Selene cherished her drawings instead. Not because she’d made them, but because each one of them was a memento of a particularly happy memory. 

"Yes, but I need to see more of it to paint it", she wistfully added, "And children like me don’t go anywhere."

His long and graceful fingers caressed her cheeks, wiping away a tear that she didn’t know was there. 

"What is your name ?"

There was nothing in the blanket Selene was wrapped in, when they found her at the doorstep of the orphanage. No jewelry, no doll, just a crumpled piece of paper with a name hastily written in black ink. 

"Selene" she mumbled, as he gently tuck a few strands of her dark hair behind her ear to properly look at her. 

"Would you like to come and see the world with me then, Selene ? I’m a painter myself, I could teach you."

Such offer could never be refused, of course. She had willingly taken Damian’s hand, and he’d her made her his student and apprentice.

She didn’t know it then, but she had been caught in a trap.

To this day, she couldn’t tell what Damian truly was to her. 

A teacher. A master. A father figure. An unrequited love. 

These days, he was, above all, a thief. An indebted clown, that signed her own paintings with his name. 

If someone was to learn that Damian Fallheel was a liar and a farce, what a tragedy it’d be. For him and for her. Her name would forever be soiled and associated into every mind with his scam. 

How unfair it was that he could drag her with him in his fall, when he’d always made sure that his rise to fame would never rub on her. 

For the past ten years, all his best works had secretly been painted by Selene. She’d always had to endure the torture of seeing people congratulate him, praise him, worship him, in her place.

It’ mine. It’s all mine, don’t you see ?, she wanted to scream, but always remained silent and poised instead. Damian’s good little apprentice, the docile and gifted child he’d generously saved from a life of misery.

He had indeed given her a role on the wide stage of life, but she’d been fooled. Her master had promised her that she would be one of the main actors, but he’d made her a bit player instead. 

All of this she could endure, somehow. 

But to lose the sole purpose of her life ? To be stripped of her art altogether ? She could not. 

Sometimes she even wondered if this was a form of divine punishment. She thought that the deity that had once been looking over her, had forsaken her, because she’d given up on her own paintings.

Because she had given them away so easily to Damian for scraps of love, just to hear him say that she "belonged".

You have given up on yourself, child, so I shall give up on you in turn, the god would sternly say, weighing in their hands the gravity of her crime. 

And yet, right when she had started to lose all hope, she crossed path with him. 

The breathtaking stranger that she saw almost every night, sitting and reading at the Black Cat’s Delight. 

It was a small tavern, in the very last streets of the higher city, that only artists visited. Some came to discuss, to exchange ideas, and sometimes to find an understanding shoulder to cry on. Others came to read and enjoy the unusual books that the owner collected and shared with her guests : grimoires of scatty enchantments, encyclopedias on all the fashion trends of the last centuries, memoirs of famous painters and sculptors of Faerûn … 

That man belonged to the second category. 

He came to sit on his own, near the library nook, and read silently on his own for a few hours, with a glass of red wine by his hand.

At first, she’d just cast discreet glances at him, her eyes ever drawn to lovely picture his presence created in the dimmed atmosphere of the tavern. 

He would always sit by the windows, and the streets lights that came through it made it look like his white curls were made of star light. The diffused silver hues made it look like he had a halo about him, one that she’d only imagined gods, angels, or otherworldly creatures would’ve been blessed with.

Shadows and gleams of light moved across his focused face, with each coach passing by, with each silhouette walking past the storefront. Chiaroscuros danced around every one of his sharp lines and soft edges, as if even the darkness and the light were fighting the right to touch and covet such beauty.

What a marvel his symmetrical and delicate features were… She would’ve argued that his visage was more bewitching, than those of the marbly statues of angels she’d admired in the estates of some baldurian nobles. 

His eyes were, probably, the part of him that she observed the most.

Two rubies, shimmering in the candlelights. They looked identical to the rings on his fingers, adorned with big red stones she’d only seen in the jewelleries’ window displays of the richest neighborhoods, where Damian’s manor was. 

One night, her hands moved on their own and grabbed her charcoal stick.

It felt like she’d been possessed, and she quickly entered the familiar trance of a painter at work.

Fingers moving on their own. Eyes glazed over and frantic.

On some corner of a page she drew one of his low set eyes, and the shadow cast by his lashes on his cheek. 

On another one, she traced the graceful curve of his long hands around the binding of his book.

And then in the middle, she meticulously drew his side profile. The soft and almost imperceptible curve of his straight nose. His barely opened mouth, as if to draw a sigh. The intricacies of his jawline, neither sharp or round. The shape of his pointy ear, picking through his thick hair. The pale column of his neck, barely visible amongst the rustles of his pussybow shirt. 

It went on like this, night after night. Her sketchbook all but filled with parts of him, glimpses of his beauty, she felt like she couldn’t take enough time to do justice to. 

"His name is Astarion" the owner, Lara, had once whispered in Selene’s ears as she placed a cup of brewed tea by her side, "He is a very famous tailor … Well, I should probably introduce him first as one of the heroes that saved us ten years ago, before deciding to sew dresses for the riches."

She’d settled beside her on a stool, and leaned closer to mutter the next part, as if it was too scandalous to risk other people hearing it. 

"They say he is a vampire. Rumors has it that a lot of his clients like to indulge his needs… and do many other vulgar things",she giggled, quickly getting up and about to serve the other clients. 

Selene blushed, flushed from her neck to the tip of her ears. A vampire … It explained his mystical aura for sure. An image of him with blood smeared across his perfect lips flashed in her mind, and her fingers tightened around her pencil, as if they itched to draw it. 

See it, etch it, trace it on the blank paper. 

She liked to admire him from afar, to simply pay tributes to his magnificence without him being aware. It probably would’ve gone on and on this way, if he hadn’t been the one the creep closer.

Selene didn’t know it then but, one cannot really observe a vampire without him being aware. Such sharp senses wouldn’t allow it. 

Especially not Astarion’s. 

"Are you drawing me by any chance ?", an enchanting voice had asked from behind her shoulder one evening, and she nearly wailed in terror. 

"N-No", she stuttered, and her words came out hurried and muffled like a child surprised by their parents while doing something naughty, "I'm definitely not."

When she turned around, there he was. So regal. So close. So … wonderfully… himself.

Her hands instinctively shot up to slam her sketchbook close, and a dangerous smirk settled on his delicate lips. 

A single lose piece of paper had escaped her rushed hands and was flying away, slowly falling at his feet. 

When he bent down to pick it up, her heart was in her throat.

It was just a barely finished drawing of his hands, and yet she’d never felt that vulnerable when showing her work before. 

Don’t look at it. It’s messy. It’s ugly. I’m far too out of practice. 

"Oh come now darling, are you lying as well as prying on me ? Those are unmistakably my own dainty fingers, I’d recognize them anywhere", he chuckled before showing her his index and the jewelry on it, "And I haven’t seen anyone wear that one ring in all of Faerûn either…Apart from me that is."

Darling, he’d said to her. She thought she might combust right then and there.

"I’m so sorry I should’ve asked-", she started but, he gracefully walked closer, and leaned on the back of the empty chair next to her own. 

"Don’t apologize. Being a source of inspiration is hardly offensive, on the contrary."

His perfume softly drifted in the air. Astarion supposedly was a creature of the night, but she’d never met someone that smelt so much like the sun. If she closed her eyes, she could almost picture a hot summer’s evening in a garden full of herbs and flowers, the way their earthy scent would be pugnant after a day in the blazing heat.

Bergamot. Rosemary. And a hint of alcool, that she thought came from the drink he’d left by the grimoire he’d been reading that night.

"I’m sorry if I seemed creepy, staring so intensely. I needed to practice and, the scenery just looked so lovely.",she softly muttered, her hands still tightly clasped around the cover of her sketch book, as if she feared it would fly open on it’s own.

" I’m used to people staring at me, but usually they end up making a move at some point’ he picked his nails as he talked, and Selene couldn’t help but follow each and every one of his motion with awe.

She noticed how his hands gracefully moved around each time he talked, or how his muscles flexed under the pale skin of his veiny forearms. "I saw you lurking for weeks, and I was wondering when you would."

It would be a mix of yellow, white, beige, and perhaps a hint of purple, or blue, for the cold undertone. Just thin layers of paint, repeated touches of colors, until she’d have managed to translate the "translucent" quality of his skin on the canvas.

"Patience isn’t really my thing, so my curiosity got the best of me and I talked to you first."

He gave her the first ever smile she’d seen on him then, all dimples and sharp teeth. The color of his pouty lips should be a cold pink, slightly mauve, maybe a rose de bois. 

"I understand now, you were not just admiring me for the sake of admiring me, were you ?", Astarion seductively implied, and it’s only then that she picked up on the conversation. The rest of his words had somehow been lost to her, as if for a few seconds, she’d been too busy painting him on the walls of her mind. 

Imagining the right colors to use, and the right way to apply it on the stretched fabric. 

"To be honest, you are the first person I’ve been wanting to draw in quite a bit of time.", she finally confessed, quite sheepishly, and as soon as she’d said it, she regretted admitting to her pitiful state.  

"Could I see ?", he asked and there was an edge to his voice that made her look at him straight in the eyes for the first time since they’d started talking, ‘Your drawings, I mean.’

She was met with a smoldering look, his irises shining up close like the dying embers of a fire. There were no traces of deceit or mockery in his gaze, he truly meant it. 

Or so it seemed. 

"It’s nothing spectacular really, just a few unimpressive sketches. I’m no great artist, just a nobody in a city full of maestros."

"Please", he sensually begged, his voice swiftly dropping a few octaves. Liquid smooth. 

He slowly bent over, bracing his hands on the table, to come closer. The devious smirk that she'd seen him wear before disappeared, and his molten gaze intimately followed the lines of her features. This almost painful scrutiny had Selene squirming on her seat, cheeks burning with embarrassment. 

From this new angle, she could see the scar on his neck. The ghost of a gruesome puncture wound emerging from the frills of his fancy silk shirt. A crack in his mask of glamour and seduction. 

It was but a somber reminder of the fact that he indeed was a being who forever belonged to the darkness : a vampire.

The painter in her almost reached for it, unknowingly eager to have the more sinister parts of him at tips of her fingers, and at the tip of her paint brushes. She wouldn't only draw the sublime parts of him, she'd embrace everything that he was. 

Every scar. Every fang. Every dark urge. Every blood stain. 

His pale ringed fingers reached out to toy with the end of her dark curls, gliding and tugging, mere inches away from the open collar of her shirt that she had unbuttoned earlier.

"Don’t be so ridiculously humble. I can already tell just by looking at this", he tapped on the drawing with his index, before whispering in her ear, "that you are quite the accomplished artist."

Delicious shivers ran down her spine.

Astarion then glided his fingers through a strand of her long hair, and his hand gently brushed against her cheek when he tucked it behind her ear. 

"So indulge me, darling."

She felt his cold and sweet breath on her cheek, and he was so close that it almost seemed like he would kiss it.

He was perfect in every possible way, the most magnificent man she’d ever seen in her entire miserable existence …And yet, something felt wrong. 

His gesture had reminded her of something. A painful superposition.

The sad memory of the day she'd met Damian flashed before her eyes. 

She stared at Astarion's fingers, and all she could think about was the way her master had touched her hair at the orphanage.

Let it be a warning, she'd vowed to herself, a reminder of the fact that pretty words and a soft hand are often used to blind and abuse the trust of others.

Do you like to draw, child ?, he'd asked her, and she knew with certainty, that her answer to that question had changed.

And just as she was thinking about the master painter, the doors of the tavern were violently thrown open. 

An elf furiously emerged from the darkness of the busy streets, and Selene suddenly wanted to throw up.

Talk of the devil and he will appear.

"There you are ! I have been looking for you everywhere !", Damian exclaimed, his boots stamping on the wooden floor as he quickly got to her table. 

His amber eyes nervously darted to Astarion, but he did not introduce himself, like Selene would’ve expected. 

No handshake, no bow, no curtesy. No fake smiles or disgusting flattery. 

How peculiar… Fallheel wouldn’t usually miss any chance to sell himself, or to "extend his social circle", as he would say. 

Damian simply looked at Selene once again, with a scolding look that she’d seen too many times before. It made her shudder with fear as much as it did when she was still a child.  

"Obey me. Or I'll put you back where you belong, in the streets you were born.", he would always say when she grew untamed.

She instinctively gathered her belongings, and put on her coat, before apologetically smiling at Astarion. He had a strange and guarded composure, one similar to the way his face looked while he read his books. Now that she’d seen him being so animated, it felt impossibly wrong. 

Gracefully handing her sketch back to her, he kept his claret eyes trained on her. 

"Oh no, please keep it... As an apology."

Before Astarion could answer, her master suddenly grabbed her by the arm and dragged her along with him towards the exit. 

"We have much to do, Selene. Do hurry up, will you ?", he reprimanded her with an exasperated sigh.

"Thank you" she quickly blurted out to the vampire, and the corner of his mouth perked up slightly. 

"For what, darling ?"

"For giving me back something I thought I’d lost."

He furrowed his brows, looking at her with a face full of confusion. But there was a softness in this expression too, something she had not been expecting to see. 

"Selene !", Astarion called out, and she resisted the tug of her master’s tight grip, to look back at him one last from the threshold she’d almost already crossed.

Sounds of the busy streets of Baldur's Gate, loud at whatever hour of the night, poured from the open door, and into the silent and hushed atmosphere of the Black Cat's Delight. Each and every other client looked at the little group of them as though they were the most annoying people they had ever seen in their entire life. 

Selene didn't care though, she was starstruck. Her name on his lips sounded so unfamiliar, so strangely beautiful, like it had never been said the right way by anyone before him.

"If you are ever in need of a dress, come to Carmine Red. It will be at a bargain price, and we could explore each other’s full portfolio of talents, so to speak …"

And with that, she was dragged out into the night.

#astarion bg3 #astarion x female oc #astarion smut #astarion fic #astarion fanfic #baldur's gate smut #tailor astarion #astarion angst #Portrait of the pale elf

[heartfullofleeches]

Balancing out my first ask with VA!reader, I have another request for a more chill and kind reader, this time with the lad who is banished from the kitchen:

Jeremiah was spending his off time shopping for once, where he spots another person there who was helping other shoppers reach things on the top shelves, giving out directions, and being a nice person all around despite not working at the store. They actively help those in need in the city or town they are in, and listen to the woes of anyone who wishes to speak with them, all of these actions are nails in the coffin of Jeremiah's chances of turning away. Then, Jeremiah sees them in an alley, actively talking to an angel, who addresses them as a minor deity. One of charity and kindness, but also of defense of the defenseless; A deity of less power than him, but still more than capable of escaping should he take the wrong approach, like an animal under a hunter's gaze. He's probably already too obsessed to care at this point, but how does he react to this?

"Do you need help?"

The sound of your voice already draws him in - just as it had the first time he laid eyes on you. Jeremiah was out doing his weekly shopping, avoiding the eye of any who crossed him for watching the one that catched his from afar. You were helping an older man grab a couple things from a higher shelf - brushing off his words of thanks. Your selfless makes Jeremiah's black heart swell with you. You truly were an angel.

He's watched for some time. A mere coincidence if someone were to ask. Every second of your daily life was focused towards helping others, and at their end you simply just - vanish. From where he was now, he could tell that you weren't a normal person, but he just chalked it up to you being the only pure soul in this rotten shell of a city.

Jeremiah follows you as you exit the store. He wasn't going to let you get away this time. The thought of you had become an addiction he needed to rid himself of. He would confront you today under the guise of an accidental encounter, and let everything develop from there. Unfortunately for him, someone else beats him to it.

Rounding the corner to the side of the grocery store, you're stopped as the backdoor opens. The worker makes eye contact with you, right as their nose begins to bleed golden blood. Their eyes roll back till milky - their bloodshot corners turning yellow. The angel pauses to get used to its vessel; Jeremiah instantly on guard.

"Have you reached a verdict?"

Its voice echoes across the lot, yet stays trapped in the edges of your mind. You think over the question - unfazed.

"Yes, I want to stay. More people in this world are in need of my help."

The angel shifts. "Very well.." It grumbles. "I will see what the higher ups have to say about your residency, but make it known that you are an anomaly. Deity or not, you will be culled if you step out of line."

You nod, finding these terms acceptable. It's hard to remember every detail, but you know that you are not from this world, or even its universe. You were born to another reality swallowed by the madness in the hearts of its people, and you'd do whatever it takes so that none suffer the same fate.

Jeremiah can see it now. How your spirit goes beyond the confinement of your mortal form. A celestial - restricting itself to a lesser level for the sake of the masses. Just like any true God would.

"That is fine by me. I try not to be a bother, just someone that leans a shoulder to those in need."

The angel seems these answers acceptable; releasing their hold on the mind in their possession. You catch the person before they crash to the ground; informing them they briefly lost consciousness for reasons you don't know. You help them back inside after they promise to head straight room - finally ready to address the other presence approaching you.

"Hello."

You offer him a smile. What a terrible mistake. The greedy man drinks in your gaze like a deserted soul to water. He absolutely had to have you now. Everything about you was what he needed - craved. A kind hand that could lead him and humanity from darkness. At a lost for words, he turns your gentle expression with a mockery of it.

"Good afternoon..."

"Yes it is." You continue to meet the stranger with open arms. The aura around him reminds you of flies around spoiling fruit.

"I don’t mean to cause alarm... but I overheard everything that just happened."

Your eyes go wide. You couldn’t believe you were so careless. "Yes, well that was just-"

"You don't need to explain, dear... As a man of the church, I witness spectaculars every single day. It's why I've come to you now. If you you looking for those to help, my church is a great place to look. Lots of broken souls looking for a voice to lead them on the right path.. and you could be that someone."

You contemplate the offer. It had its risks, but the sincerity and determination in his eyes prompted you to at least give it a try.

"Hm.. That sounds like it might be beneficial. I accept."

Jeremiah's smile grows. He feels like he's just won the lottery.

"The church is closed for today, but why don't you come by my house? You may stay with me... if you have nowhere else to go."

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere scenarios #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere insert #yandere headcanons #male yandere #yandere drabble #yandere writing #yandere fic #Jeremiah my oc

[theluckywizard]

Hawke/Rose, Dickens prompts, "Accidents will occur in the best regulated families."

Hiii Ammy. Here's the second chapter of my Distraction Fic, the disastrous (at least according to Alsatia!) introduction between Rose Trevelyan and Garrett Hawke. For @dadrunkwriting

This follows the first part which I did for DADWC a few weeks back.

Summary: Leandra Hawke and her old friend Alsatia Trevelyan introduce their incorrigible children at the Hawke Estate in the hopes that a favorable match can be made. Rose POV

Rating: Teen

WC: 1692

Pairing: Rose Trevelyan x Garrett Hawke

oOo

Alsatia’s near giddiness at the sight the Amell mansion’s grandeur chafes unbearably in Rose, who glowers lightly at it with the same remonstrance she always applies to these calculating matchmaking endeavors.

“It’s larger than I remember,” says the elder woman, raffish in her admiration of the excess. 

The estate is impressive whether Rose wishes to admit it or not, a work of elegant symmetry in pale gray marble with large windows that gaze upon a courtyard dotted with trees. The entry is festooned in wreaths and garlands of laurel and bay leaves, no doubt the work of Leandra who Alsatia reports has quickly reabsorbed herself in the inane pursuits of most fine ladies.

They pull on their cloaks, the makings of a frigid downpour complicating the short walk between the carriage and the main entry. A stout worn-out looking redheaded man Rose assumes must be a dwarf opens the main entry and stands in wait, a pleasant expression enlivening the deep set lines of his face. Rose could count the number of dwarves she’s encountered on both her hands, the exposure to Thedas’ varied races and cultures she’s long craved and long been denied invigorating her.

“How do you do, my lady Trevelyan. Right this way,” says the man in an immediate breach of protocol that causes Alsatia to stiffen. Doormen should never speak of course. Rose pokes her mother in the back in the hopes of reminding her not to be ungracious with her facial expressions.

The dwarf follows them inside to a substantial vestibule where a fire roars and crackles in wait. A massive creature, so large and muscular it seems one could hardly call it a dog, lazes limp in the fire’s radiance, snoring soundly. A Mabari, Rose notes, delighted to see one in the flesh. Once again her mother is startled by the dwarf, who, in a horrifying turn, appears to be both the steward and the doorman. Rose can gather her mother’s thoughts which almost certainly grapple with the Hawkes’ apparent shortage of appropriate staff.

“Make yourselves comfortable while I fetch Mistress Leandra. My son will see to your luggage.”

Another dwarf enters and stares at Rose, his wide, ice blue eyes fixating upon her face with both awe and utter delight. Alsatia seethes quietly at the impertinence as he collects their luggage and shoulders a trunk easily, watching Rose the entire time. 

When he leaves the room, Lady Trevelyan huffs to herself softly.

“No footmen?” she remarks on a hiss. Rose hates that her own suspicions were correct.

“Indeed. How could they possibly make do?” Rose replies, the edge of sarcasm so soft that her mother might not notice. They pace in restrained circles, taking in the cornices and marble tiles and the elegant staircase that bends around the back of the room. The place feels shockingly hollow, barely lived in in spite of the warmth of the fire. But then, they’d only just moved in that autumn after the younger Hawke’s infamous success on his Deep Roads treasure hunt. 

As the introduction looms, Rose feels her insides twist and hum, an unruly sense of anticipation muscling its way out from underneath all the disinterest. She chalks it up to being eager to see what manner of man would fail to excite her interest this time, but truthfully the Amell heir has provoked an abiding curiosity that has persisted since she first heard of him. A truth she squashes down as she hears footsteps up above.

A man appears on the mezzanine then descends the steps two at a time, advancing toward them in easy swinging strides and stands over them both with a dashing yet remarkably goofy grin under a beguiling bright blue gaze.

“So which one of you is the woman I’m supposed to marry?”

Maker.

While her mother stands thunderstruck by the gall, Rose fumbles for words behind a savage blush. Nobody told her he’d so Maker damned… tall. She tries not to think about how the rumors had been true, that he’s devastatingly handsome in a sort of scruffy, roguish way. The finery of his apparel does very little to buff away those rough edges. His overgrown chestnut hair is tucked behind his ears and he hasn’t shaved in a few days at least. 

Protocol dictates that they require an introduction, but he’s already barreled his way past that and stands waiting for one of them to speak.

“That would be me,” Rose manages. Alsatia fires a sharp look in her daughter’s direction.

“Alsatia!” A refined voice calls from the top of the stairs. “I see Garrett has preceded me.” She glides her way down with practiced elegance that the years spent scraping by in Ferelden could never take from her. If she’s embarrassed by her son’s presumption one could hardly tell.

“Garrett, may I present my dear friend Lady Alsatia Trevelyan and her daughter Lady Rose,” she says. Both women dip in tidy curtsies and he bows politely with an elegance that startles Rose.

“A pleasure,” he says. “Ostwick, eh? You must be utterly knackered.”

“Not at all, our carriage is quite comfortable,” says Alsatia, the kind of polite lie spilling from her lips with such ease. They’re both exhausted and Rose’s mind wanders after her trunk where a comfortable pair of breeches and a jacket she buried under her finery lies in wait. 

“I’ve never been a fan of carriages, to be honest. Turns your arse into a funny wedge shape after a day of travel,” he rambles. 

Rose nearly breaks composure, a laugh threatening to bust through her practiced demeanor, the truth of his admission reminding her of her own sore, misshapen rear.

“Can I offer you refreshment? Antivan port? Garrett has procured an apricot brandy from Rivain that is just divine,” says Leandra hurriedly, obviously covering for her son’s casual banter. Alsatia glances at Rose, still in their cloaks. “Or… perhaps you’d just like to wash up and change for dinner. Yes. I— should have remembered. Orana will show you to your chambers.”

Behind them the door flies open and a troupe of three saunters in with such casual force that it seems they must live here as well.

“Shit,” mutters Garrett, running his hand through his chestnut hair. Practically humming with interest, she watches his reaction carefully and then turns to ogle the intruders.

“Hawke— Oh. Company! Delightful.” A woman wearing a frock coat over a shockingly limited amount of clothing for the weather and a suffocating assortment of gold jewelry sweeps her eyes up and down the Trevelyans appraisingly. Rose crosses her arms and lifts her chin, steeling herself against the barrage of nosy looks even as she surveys the intruders with the same sharpened curiosity. By the furrow in his brow, Garrett looks ready to tell them off but someone speaks.

“Dougal is on his way here,” says an elf with a shock of carefully mismanaged white hair and a shockingly large sword strapped to his back.

“Dougal? Now? I thought the deal was settled,” says Garrett who then curses softly. Rose watches her mother tally the marks against him as they roll in.

“Not according to him. He says he wants a bigger cut,” says the half-dressed woman in gold.

“Well sod that,” answers Garrett. “He didn’t do a blazing thing to help the expedition.”

“Then we fight,” says the white haired elf again.

“I’m sure I can talk some sense into him,” says the younger Hawke, glancing back at his mother apologetically. 

“Garrett,” Leandra scolds him sharply, her expression agonized as he spoils her carefully arranged fix up.

“He’s on his way here,” he says, leaning to kiss Leandra on the cheek and squeeze her arm with genuine affection. He casts Rose and Alsatia a helpless look, a devilishly handsome one, Rose thinks and makes his apologies. The man strides into the front vestibule with his strange group of friends where he begins divesting himself of his fine clothes without a scrap of shame. Rose’s face is claimed by a wave of heat that washes up into her cheeks as she glimpses his thickly muscled torso before it disappears under a tunic again.

“I’m— dreadfully sorry, perhaps you’d like to settle in right now,” Leandra says, glancing past the pair to see her son donning full plate while he discusses the details of this Dougal character with the others.

They’re swiftly ushered away from the sounds of chain mail and plate as Garrett Hawke dons his armor and makes ready to duke it out on the streets of Kirkwall. Rose feels her mother jerk her forward up the stairs each time she turns to peer at them once more.

The door to their guest wing closes behind them. 

“Well. Perhaps it’s just an unlucky coincidence. Even the best regulated families have incidents. And they’re still working out the details. The staffing. The manners will come,” Alsatia rambles like she’s soothing herself.

“I was sure the man’s fortune would quiet all those other concerns of yours,” Rose jokes, laying her cloak over the back of a chair. 

Rose flops down onto a chaise, poked again by her Maker-forsaken stay.

“What do you think that was all about?” asks Rose. “Dougal. The expedition.”

“Nothing decent,” her mother laments. “You saw those ruffians. But I suppose a wife could remake his ways.”

The daughter smirks doubtfully at her mother, who scoffs again momentarily before the corner of her mouth twitches in a reluctant admission of the ridiculousness of it.

“You’re right. This could be disastrous,” says Alsatia with a sigh.

Letting her head fall back against the chaise, Rose gazes absently at the ornamentation of the ceiling as she considers it. A thrill is busy consuming her insides. This is already so much more interesting than every other attempt to pawn her off. She smiles to herself softly and bites her lip.

“What are you simpering about?” snaps Alsatia.

“I was just thinking of how well he looked without a shirt.”

“Utterly indecent,” says Alsatia sternly, but her brow twitches ever so slightly. Perhaps the woman isn’t dead after all.

“Utterly and completely,” declares Rose.

#rose trevelyan #garrett hawke #hawke x trevelyan #dragon age fanfiction #dragon age 2 #matchmaking moms AU #leandra hawke #isabela dragon age #fenris dragon age #the awkward introduction #they're in trouble

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

I’m here to request for moth !! yes. I was wondering you could write headcanons or a scenario abt FL where the reader is kinda like diluc (well the darkhero part) , where the reader is Batman at night 👍🏼 and comes home very late, exhausted and beat up/bruised. angst to fluff !!

feel free to change it up or ignore !!

oooo i love this!!!! i made you determined and strong, not quite as angsty as Diluc. hope that's alright!!!!

~ * ~ The Millelith Retire at Midnight

Foul Legacy Childe x Reader Gender Neutral (no pronouns mentioned) Hurt/Comfort Warnings: Descriptions of blood and injuries, crying, pain, allusion to battle

~ * ~

If there’s one thing you’ve learned during your life in Teyvat, it’s that nighttime is dangerous. Monsters and beasts that crawl the earth and sea grow only more vicious when the sun sets, something every adult and child is aware of. When you were young, your parents always warned you about the dangers of staying out after dark, how a young one like you could be easily snatched up and away by vile things lurking in the night to be eaten or killed. Always, whenever you went out to play, their yells of caution would follow. “Be back before dusk! Don’t talk to strangers! Beware of sweet flowers! Always watch your back!” As a child, you thought some of their warnings were overkill. You never even left the Harbor when you ran around with your friends, how could you encounter any sweet flowers? But now, fully grown and with the weight of life’s knowledge on your shoulders, you understand that they were simply looking out for you. Perhaps in an overbearing manner, yes, but looking out for you all the same, for Teyvat is nothing but cruel to those who wander without their wits about them. This realization had accompanied the receiving of a jagged scar across your back, a taunting reminder of your previous naivety and innocence. You like to think it also taught you how to be strong, or at least the basics, and you had looked out upon the city of Liyue and all your friends and family with a new desire: a need to protect and defend the people and Harbor that you loved, or come to love; for the Millelith let their guard down at midnight, and with Rex Lapis’ death the monsters encroached ever closer. When you met Childe, you had been suspicious of him, as you were with everybody. But with his charm and your wit it was almost inevitable that the hostility would fade, and soon you would call yourself and him “friendly rivals”, to Childe’s endless amusement. Unbeknownst to you, his playful teasing and banter was no more than a mask to his inner turmoil, a truth he kept tightly locked away with a key of denial and distraction. The Harbinger was enchanted by you. Everything from your laughter to the way your eyes glittered when walking the city streets to your unwavering determination made his heart beat fast, his cold, bloodthirsty heart that he thought could only hold enough love for his family. At first he had refused to acknowledge it, chalking up his warming cheeks and fluttering pulse to simple comradery, eager to test your skills in battle. He couldn’t get attached- he was Tartaglia, the Eleventh Harbinger! He was here on a mission, to throw the nation into chaos, you included, and had no time for messy things such as emotions!

It was when Osial rose above the sea and threatened innocent citizens that he realized he never wanted you to go somewhere he couldn’t follow, especially not into the arms of death. That day was the first time you saw Childe cry, even if in relief at your wellbeing. You were mildly irritated when you found out he summoned an ancient deity, fearing for your friends’ safety more than your own, but couldn’t help but smile when he laid his heart, raw and longing, before you, and finally you were allowed to ask a simple question. “What took you so long?” That was months ago, and you’re no less in love with him than you were when he first smiled at you. Not a fake smile to charm anyone into forgetting he was a Fatuus- a bright, genuine smile, full of warmth and kindness. It was a bit lopsided, but you liked it that way. Through raging tides you’ve held onto one another. Your relationship is knit in secrecy- the people despise the Harbinger, after all, and he refused to let you tarnish your name for him. During his various missions to distant lands, you’ve stayed firm and strong, performing your own duties while awaiting his return. When you discovered his Abyssal curse, his monstrous other form, you held his hand tightly as he spilled his fears out to you. And when the curse had consumed him, transforming him into an otherworldly creature permanently, you had only lamented on how you wouldn’t be able to hug him as well as you used to. Childe’s transformation had, if anything, only increased your determination to keep your loved ones safe. While you’re certain he can defend himself, his bestial appearance could put him at odds with other people controlled only by fear. And you’d be damned if you’d let your beloved ex-Harbinger get hurt. So, every night, when Childe is nestled in either his nest of blankets or, more often, your bed, you hoist up your weapon and slip into the dark. The Millelith retire at midnight. So you wield your passion and love in their place. Some nights are easy, with few monsters to be slain. But others have scores of them, coming wave after wave towards the bridge that connects civilization to the wild whims of nature. It’s like they’re coordinating- they probably are coordinating. Coordination or no coordination, you’re not letting a single one cross that bridge. Tonight is one of those nights, with so many monsters you’re almost drowning in them. They can sense the absence of your archon and mount attack after attack, their weak constructs piling up on the ground as you counter their methods. Together they might be strong, but you’re stronger, and midnight turns to early morning in light of your victory. A victory not without its losses, your injured body reminds you as you struggle to stand. The sound of marching boots echoes distantly, and you hurry to sneak away into an alley as the Millelith take their morning posts, confusion lacing their tones as they spot the blood spatters and broken wood on the bridge. It’ll be another mystery for them, but another painful triumph for you, and you limp towards home with your weapon dragging behind you. Opening and closing the front door proves to be particularly difficult today, and when you finally manage to push the heavy wood shut you sink to the floor, wounds throbbing in time with your heart. You hear something moving upstairs, then claws clicking hastily on the hardwood floor, and you wince, knowing you’ve been gone too long. The sun hasn’t risen, that’s how early the hour is, so when you hear a panicked yelp all you see is Childe’s blue eye gleaming faintly in the gloom. Even so you can still pick out the deep worry and fear written across his face- for someone with a mask for his features, Childe can be very expressive. He whines, low and fretful, claws hovering over your wounds. He doesn’t know where to start- he doesn’t know where to start because he woke up and you were gone and he was so scared and worried and- Your hands carefully pull his face closer, and you place a gentle kiss on his forehead, shaking from the effort. Childe whimpers, but presses his head into the crook of your neck and inhales your scent. It’s marred by the metallic tang of blood, but it’s there nonetheless and soothes his nerves enough to slowly rise and lift you up into his arms. Your weapon clatters to the ground, forgotten, as Childe carries you up the stairs and to his room, filled with blankets and cushions, and gingerly sets you down onto the soft mass. You try for a smile, attempting to apologize for the inevitable staining, but he simply shakes his head and shushes you gently. It’s the same shush you do for him when he needs grounding. He slips through the doorway and vanishes for a moment, returning quickly with an armful of bandages and disinfectant. He’s seen you apply it and remembers, vaguely, when he had to do it for himself, small and squishy and human. His claws are poised with utmost care, delicately dabbing each of your bleeding cuts with disinfectant before wrapping them with gauze. Your blood stains the white cloth a brilliant red, and he tries not to flinch at the sight, the thought of you getting hurt. And you, you’re so patient for him, barely even wincing when he accidentally yanks the bandage too tight and giving him a reassuring smile in return for his cries of distress. Childe’s shoulders sag in relief when finally, finally you’re patched up, the only evidence of a fight being the white and red wrappings and darkening bruises on various parts of your body. You smile at him, again, so kind and bright, opening up your arms for him to fall into. “Thanks, you did a great job.” He leans into your touch with a strangled sob, careful to not put his whole weight on you as he pulls you into his own arms. The room fills with his hiccups and your comforting hums as a single question hangs in the air, one that you know he’s been wanting to ask ever since he found you crumpled in the hallway. “Why? Why do you do this? Why do you put yourself, all alone, through these battles?” A smile spreads across your face again, this time soft and silent, as you bury your face into his fluff. Because you love him. You love him, you love this city, you love your friends and family. You love them so much that you’d do anything to make sure they’re always safe, that he’s always safe and happy and healthy. Your desire to defend and protect your home and loved ones is born out of knowing that this world is dark and terrible to the weak, merciless to those who venture out of bounds. You’d rather your skin become scarred with cuts and gashes than see Childe hurt- see him hurt again. And Childe suddenly understands, knowing the warm swell of affection he feels when seeing his family and now you is very much the same, how he’d go to the ends of Teyvat to keep his little siblings’ innocence intact. He can’t do the same for you- you’ve already witnessed the atrocities of the world- but he can keep you safe, just like you keep the Harbor and him safe at night. Childe watches your hand wind into his fluff, gripping it as you snuggle sleepily against him. He traces a scar that runs up and across your knuckles with a single claw, using his other hand to fuss with your hair. The new flesh is soft and smooth under his finger, but undeniably from a wound healed long ago. Perhaps in the future, he’ll be able to bear the burden of the city’s scars alongside you.

#genshin impact #childe #tartaglia #gi ajax #foul legacy #foul legacy childe #genshin childe #genshin tartaglia #genshin tartagalia #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #foul legacy x reader #sfw #genshin sfw #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort #whew this one was a wild ride!!!! #i'll be honest i didn't expect it to get done tonight but lo and behold it is!!! #it is a bit late tho i'm sorry about that #i didn't wanna make you as brooding as diluc because honestly i wasn't feeling it #protective and determined for the win!!!! #also i firmly believe that childe at first is teasing and flirty #but then when he actually confronts his feelings he becomes a mess #foul legacy is the representation of all his emotions and love for you just unrestrained #i wanted to write a scenario this time!! i've been doing headcanons for a while #i was feeling really tired and unable to do this tonight #but i pushed through and i think it turned out great :D #i'm proud of me!!! and you!!!! i'm proud of all of you!!!!!

[starlitheaven]

: ̗̀➛ THIS SIDE OF PARADISE — YUUJI ITADORI

note. for @shibaraki, I hope you like it <3. writing for yuuji was difficult, so I’m sorry if it’s not the best! based on this side of paradise by coyote theory. for the 1k follower event.

tags. childhood friends to lovers, non-sorcerer au, falling in love.

2k+

yuuji’s grandfather had once told him that lonely souls often sought each other out and attracted like magnets. he thinks of megumi back home sometimes and understands this; an unspoken bond made because they're both people who don't quite relate to those around them.

but with you? it’s felt like solace from the very beginning back when he was too young to know what the comfort and warmth he felt even meant. with you, yuuji never felt as if pointless chatter was needed to fill in silences. he’s always hated that disingenuous need to be what people expect of him. if he was quiet and alone, people assumed he was angry. if he’s lively and laughing brightly, they assume nothing could possibly be wrong. you always understood that this wasn’t the case. even in his days where he was labeled as a “problematic child”, you knew he was still the goofy boy who picks his nose.

you had been friends since childhood; back when you were taller and stronger—before puberty hit yuuji like a train. never the closest of friends but not acquaintances either. you were someone he felt a strong connection to, but slipped through his fingers like sand amongst the rush of growing up. his last memory of you was holding your smaller form during high school graduation with heated cheeks and the lingering regret afterward of not having confessed.

though like most things in life, time went on and it was soon forgotten. he chalked up his feelings to a teenage crush and packed his bags to go live on the island.

while you occupied his thoughts every now and then throughout the years since leaving his hometown, you were the last person he imagined ever encountering here of all places. he’d been waiting in line at the juice bar when he caught a glimpse of you walking from the direction of the dock.

he took in the sight of you, so refreshing and bright like sunshine and the fresh fruit native to the island. your smile and that laugh of yours...yuuji has never felt so clumsy and aware of himself. the effect you continued to have on him was outstanding. 

no braincells in that hard head of his, he left the bar and headed your way. paying no mind that todou and chosou waited for him back at the gym. it was like he was under the effects of a mirage, mesmerized by the sight of how pretty you looked in lightweight linens under the clear blue sky. he approached you slowly with caution, suddenly afraid that you may not remember him. 

that’d probably be worse than rejection, he thinks.

but lovely as ever, your face immediately perked up in recognition. you seemed as surprised to find him there, and after the initial shock and spoken pleasantries, you two caught up over lunch. if he specifically picked one of the restaurants that gojou owned to impress you with the special seaside table the older man has reserved just for him, well uh. anyway, he learned that you’re the new curator for the island museum and have been in the process of moving into the island after several online interviews.

that was your first official day living on the island. he’s never been the sort of guy to think much about concepts such as fate or destiny, but this had him considering it throughout lunch. 

yuuji grinned, eager at the news of your new job and residence. “that’s pretty cool, man! if you want, I can show you around. kusakabe at the rental place can give us the good golf carts for the whole day so you can see all the overlooks and cliffs and trails. oh or zip-lining, you’d probably like that. and the casino! but it’s not actually a casino y/n, it’s actually a movie theater that—“

you held a hand up and yuuji realized then that he was rambling. he thought maybe you were overwhelmed by his vigor towards this island that he’s grown to love. oh man, he’s fucked up and it’s only been a few hours. kugisaki was right. this is why he doesn’t get girls.

unbeknownst to him, you were reminded of how cute you found his earnestness towards things he loves. or how good he looked kissed by the sun. it suited him well. the sea breeze gently ruffled his messy peach hair.

“I want to do all that, trust me.” you smiled warmly, picking up on his scolded puppy mood and wanting to reassure him. “and I’m excited! I thought I was gonna have to explore all on my own, but I’m so happy to know that you’re here. but don’t tell me any more. surprise me!”

so he did. somewhat. he’d gotten so caught up in seeing you again that he talked out of his ass about showing you around like he wasn’t currently busy training to be a firefighter (he had an entire meal with you at a restaurant having completely forgotten his session at the gym!). so he took it slow with your schedules as adults in mind. right, you were no longer teenagers with all the time in the world.

so first, he came by to your new apartment to help you unpack everything and assemble your furniture, which took a few days as your things continued to arrive. for most of those days you two were completely alone in your space, and there was never a dull moment. later, he’d find out from todou that assembling furniture is a very intimate thing to do with someone you’re not dating, but he didn’t really care. or the fact that the two of you often cooked dinner together after hours of unpacking and ate in front of your small tv, usually movies he chose. his mind soon memorized the exact way your eyes crinkle when you laugh at his stupid impressions. 

or the sweet sound of your drowsy voice as you wish him a good night and sweet dreams at your door. 

it’s about two weeks later when he shows up early at your fully furnished apartment, with the golf cart waiting outside. you two spend the entire day exploring all of the trails, the cliff sides, every little road in the island. he shows you the small abandoned cliffside church and teaches you how to sneak into the old bell tower right over the ocean. he learns that you prefer picnics over eating out at restaurants, so you two take breaks exploring the island to head into the small grocery store for food and supplies. there’s several picnic tables on the side of the seaside roads that give you two privacy to enjoy your meals. 

away from the prying eyes of the small island, yuuji cuts up native fruit and playfully holds it out for you, which you take by leaning in and biting around it before pulling back with a flirtatious smile. he laughs lightly, too occupied with his growing feelings that he doesn’t see what’s going on in front of him. 

because the crush hits him like the bright sunlight that glistens the island waters. it doesn’t surprise him, but the intensity of his affection does. he can’t help but think that this is no crush. it feels much deeper than wanting to make out and hold hands in the school hallways. it’s wanting no one but you to buy produce with. it’s wishing that he didn’t have to say goodbye at your door. it’s wanting to fall asleep and wake up with you right beside him. 

dense as ever, yuuji still fails to realize that his feelings go both ways. he doesn’t catch the way you subtly lean into him while waiting in line at the ice-cream shop or the fact that you’ve put up with several horror movies just to continue going with him despite it being your least favorite genre. he’s just so handsome in that boyish way of his, always ready with an easy smile and carefree laugh. everything that you liked about him during your childhood was still there, only increased tenfold. now he’s so strong and tall and protective over you.

despite the island being pretty safe, he often walks you home from the museum on late nights. who wouldn’t be charmed by an attractive future firefighter wanting to take care of you? and as much as you enjoy your conversation with yuuji, you enjoy your silences. these walks are often peaceful and quiet, with only the sounds of crickets and the waves gently ebbing back and forth.

tonight was no different.

you walked side by side silently for some time, until he couldn’t help but notice you rubbing at your crossed arms as if to bring some heat onto them. he’s seen kugisaki do this enough times to know. his destination was only a few minutes away, but he spoke up anyway.

"are you cold?"

you looked up with a surprised hum, having been lost in thought. "hm? oh...a little."

"here." yuuji grinned, pulling off his hoodie. unaware of your eyes curiously peeking at the way his shirt briefly rose and exposed the hard lines of his tanned muscled abs. he was made to live on an island. “you can wear this.”

"oh—um—," you stammered sheepishly, fingers grasping onto the soft fabric. you wanted to decline just to be polite, but the thought of wearing something of his made you giddy. "are you sure?"

"yeah, don't worry about it."

you slip on the large red sweater before he finished his sentence, overcome with the scent of fabric detergent and softener as it goes over your head. it's fresh, clean and crisp. warm from his body heat, and you resist the urge to snuggle into it.

later, he surprises you with a moonlight picnic tucked away in one of the private coves of the island that’s normally reserved for the most lavish restaurant. yuuji takes your hand in his, leading you deeper into the cove, and you can’t help but notice that his palm is sweaty. before you can open your mouth and make a lighthearted joke, you take in all of the candles littered around. 

the candles are mismatched and follow no order—varying in size and scent. not only that, but the blanket placed on the sand is too small for the spread of finger foods and he tips over one of the wine glasses while serving you. the unexpected gesture leaves you stunned, but it’s endearing in the way that is unique to yuuji. earnest and sweet. the gentle orange glow and his warmth underneath the moonlight eases you out of your growing nerves. 

it’s a date in everything but the name. you noticed yuuji had acted off on the way here. he was jittery and restless, and now you know that it was all nerves. this picnic required help from others and was either expensive or a favor to have the secret cove closed off for the night. he’s made his move and gave you the strength to make yours. 

after finishing your food, you leaned into his shoulder while watching the sea in front of you. taking his still clammy hand into yours, you thanked him for tonight and for making your new life on the island all that much better. that there’s no one else but him you’d want these experiences with. with your heart stuck in your throat and swallowed up in soft red fabric, you turned to yuuji and placed your lips over the line of his jaw. his shoulders tense up as he freezes, and this close, you see the pink that floods his cheeks. 

he looks at you, soft beneath the moonlight, and the raw emotion in his brown eyes is pure longing. brown eyes glance down to the swell of your lips and it’s all the inclination you need to lay back against the small pineapple print blanket.

yuuji takes your cue and leans down over you, blocking out the starry night sky. “is this okay?” he breathes, absently rubbing his thumb over the high of your cheek. his voice is hushed, almost inaudible amongst the tides if his lips weren’t right above yours.

was this okay? your heart was beating rapidly in your chest, cheeks warm and flushed. 

“yeah,” you sighed. your fingers dug into the soft fabric of his t-shirt, resisting the urge to pull him down. there was sand in your hair now and the blanket beneath you was crumpling, but none of it mattered. “kiss me, yuuji...”

yuuji’s honey eyes fluttering shut is the last thing you see before he closes the distance. the brush of his lips against yours is tender, like you’re something precious and valuable. his kiss was slow, sensual, and full of passion. all of the want and desire that’s been brewing inside of him is pouring out, making him needy against your lips. his knees are resting on each side of your hips now, fully on top of you. 

as the kiss becomes more heated—more urgent and passionate that it leaves you dizzy and breathless—your hands begin to wander down yuuji’s body. his broad shoulders thick with muscles, his corded arms, his hard lean sides beneath the thin fabric of his t-shirt. then, your hand roved over his navel and down to his groin where you teased him with a squeeze. 

“nngh,” yuuji groaned, a little surprised at his own reaction. he was already tenting in his pants, hard just from kissing. the realization made a knot form in your belly, warm and tight. “f-fuck.”

you laughed, giving his throat a playful nip. his voice was so attractive like this. “you like that?”

“yeah,” yuuji whined, mindlessly rutting against your small palm. while his rhythm was clumsy, it made your mind spin to realize how thick his cock is as it began to fill out. “can you—can you keep doing that? it feels amazing, babe.”

“doing what?” you asked innocently, batting your lashes up at him. you gave him another nip, sucking a little this time as your grip loosened slightly, merely brushing his throbbing cock. featherlight—enough to feel but not enough to be stimulated the way he desperately wants. “this?”

a whine escapes his lips as your fingers lightly graze over the length of him, failing to hold back more laughter at his sensitivity. yuuji is panting now, cheeks hot lips bitten red. he looks a little ashamed. like a puppy who’s been caught doing something bad. he buries his face into your neck with a deep exasperated groan. 

“don’t tease me, man,” he grumbles into your skin, and breath tickling you slightly. he’s beginning to leak precome, and he’s sure you can feel his cock twitch in his pants. “i’m so hard. i don’t think i’ve ever been this turned on.”

you coo, running your hands through his messy peach hair in comfort. “aw, I didn’t know you were this sensitive. I’m sorry. ”

“I don’t have a lot of experience, y/n…” he confesses lowly, a little serious and mortified. the waves continue crashing against the rocky shore ahead. “or any.”

oh. “are you…”

yuuji nods solemnly. as if he were breaking life changing news to you, not this. he faces you, brows drawn together in discomfort. “lame, huh?”

why does he look like that? like he expects you to laugh in his face?

you cup his face and gently bring it up towards yours. “no, it’s not.” a seasalt kiss. you do your best to “let’s stop for now, okay? we have all the time to pick this back up. y’know, once you’re ready.”

“you sure?” there’s something like relief in his eyes now. perhaps his sudden excitement only made his experience that much more blaring. 

the thing about yuuji is that he can get so lost in his own head sometimes. sometimes he’s his own worst enemy. a loner like him with such a big heart doesn’t deserve to be left alone to fend his own grim thoughts. he’s opened up to you and allowed you in, so now you’ll do your best to ease the burden off of him. 

“of course. it’s nothing to be ashamed of, yuuji.” you smiled. you were rewarded with the sight of his boyish features easing up. “if you’ve got anything to be ashamed of it’s when you ate that bug for free.”

“i only did that once!” he protested the way he always does whenever that time’s brought up. but he looked more at ease, more like himself.

the sun has never been so bright amongst the stars.

#this beat my ass! #it was rushed at the end i'm SORRY #and i'm also sorry this is so so late monty :( #ngl you probably even forgot about this that's how long it's been jsfkcs #yuuji x reader #yuji x reader #yuji x y/n #jjk x reader

[worlds-4th-best-dad]

Say, you've mentioned this Gasai person a few times. Who are they?

You seem to not view them in a good light if you're comparing them to us, eheh.

Normally, I would be against disclosing private information regarding people of interest of law enforcement, but after personal experiences with said person, I am inclined to forego confidentiality for the sake of the public's safety.

Gasai, Yuno Gasai in full, is a young girl, approximately 13 years of age, and the adopted daughter of Ushio and Sakai Gasai. Despite her age, she possesses a sharp intellect. Naturally, this would make her a star student in her school, formerly attending the now destroyed Sakurami Middle School and now attending the Umesato Middle School. However, her intelligence proves to be a dangerous trait as she has displayed increasingly disturbing behavior that prominently manifests as an unhealthy attachment to her classmate, Yukiteru Amano. Other cases of disturbing behavior manifest as a string of calculated, sometimes violent, actions against anyone who would come between her and Amano.

The first known incident came after the police capture of Takao Hiyama, the serial killer that haunted the streets of Sakurami at night as well as the former homeroom and English teacher of Gasai and Amano while working at the Sakurami Middle School. While performing a cavity search, officers on scene noted a large scar on his back. When questioned about it, he claims that he acquired the injury when he was speared by a makeshift javelin on school grounds during lunch around a year ago. According to him, the only ones in the vicinity, and the ones who came to his aid, were Yukiteru Amano and Ouji Kosaka, another student. The makeshift spear was dismantled and disposed off by custodial staff after nothing came up when the student body was interrogated in the auditorium.

Such a story would have been chalked up as miscellaneous details in the case report if not for my... experiences at the now demolished Sakurami Middle School. After reviewing the file again, we contacted Amano for an interrogation regarding Hiyama's injuries. Much like Hiyama, Amano is unable to produce more testimony that he hasn't already stated. When asked on a different topic regarding if he has experienced anything unusual, he stated that he was hounded by a person in a pastel pink rabbit costume when he was out getting supplies for a school festival with Moe Wakaba, another student of Sakurami Middle School and Amano's current girlfriend. We asked if he could provide a description of said person for further investigation.

Once the interrogation was over, I reviewed older case files as my men conducted interviews on the citizens. As I was looking for the people who reported seeing the rabbit mascot, I was approached by a peculiar pair: a young boy and a child who acted as the boy's assistant in investigations. The boy mentioned that they were alerted to my investigation when the child saw my men asking bystanders while he was playing at the Sakurami Central Park. They both stated that Gasai was also a person of interest to them as they have caught her multiple times stalking Amano. They also have attempted to arrest her before for her actions, but she had always evaded capture. Once done with recounting their experiences with Gasai, I asked them about the rabbit costume-wearing person who followed Amano and Wakaba's date, but they couldn't give any information as they haven't begun formally investigating cases prior to that point. Once content with the information provided, I sent them home.

All of these stories accumulated into my last encounter with Gasai. After compiling all the necessary information needed to conduct a formal interrogation, I was on my way to the station's parking lot when we received a call from the Gasai household. Apparently, Gasai has not returned home from school at the usual time. After waiting for a few hours thinking she still has club activities left, the parents became increasingly worried after the time became 6 PM and she still hasn't come home. They immediately contacted the school and her friends regarding their daughter, but none saw her leave. A few students noted that the she was heading to the school's library. We rushed to Umesato to conduct a formal investigation. When we got to the scene, we noticed large amounts of debris as various large bookshelves and carts were destroyed beyond repair. We also noted a pair of footprints in the dust that lead out of the library and stopped in the middle of an adjacent hallway. Despite me and my men thoroughly investigating the area, as well as her classroom, we saw no trace of Gasai anywhere. It was like she just... vanished into thin air.

After a last sweep of the school, we headed to the Gasai residence to bear the bad news. Unsurprisingly, they were devastated to hear that we couldn't find where their daughter went. After calming them down to the best of our abilities, we asked if we could search the house to see if there were any clues to her disappearance. They agreed and we searched the premises. We found nothing in the yard so we went inside. There was nothing of note in a majority of the rooms... until we reached Gasai's bedroom. It was a typical bedroom for a young girl. We found nothing hidden in the floorboards or the ceiling panels. The most damning evidence was found in her closet. Among hangers of clothes and drawers of garments, we found what I suspected would be there... a large pastel pink bunny costume that matched the description Amano gave.

Currently, Gasai is deemed missing and all citizens are urged to report any clues or findings regarding her whereabouts to the authorities.

#the higher ups are definitely going to chew me out for this... but i don't care. that girl needs help #also that picture of the man you sent looks like hirasaka when he first arrived at the station in civilian wear #if he has a similar personality to him then i worry for his mental health... #reports #mutuals (derogatorily affectionate) #asks

[the-one-where-casey-watches-tv]

Abbott Elementary episode 2.16 "Teacher Conference"

Quinta has said she’s not trying to reinvent the wheel with this show, Janine and Gregory in particular, and I think she’s proving that she doesn’t need to. Abbott is cozy and cute and laugh out loud funny, all precisely due to the sense of familiarity that it evokes. I can go into every episode knowing that everyone will be kind to each other, live happily ever after, and maybe even score some new glue sticks.

            I’ll come back around to everyone else, but let’s get right to it: the kiss! Gregory is my favorite character, but to be honest I don’t think I would actually enjoy being friends with either him or Janine. But Abbott walks the fine line of character personalities that I wouldn’t want to encounter in real life, but that I love to see on my TV. They’re great characters for a will-they/won’t-they because they’re both so intensely innocent that the smallest hints of sexuality have me like “woo! Get it!”. The two of them grinding in the club was one of those moments, and so was Janine grabbing Gregory by the lanyard (lol) for another kiss.

            It was inevitable that they would chalk that up to a mistake and try to get back to business, but I almost wish they wouldn’t. Janine is still dating Maurice and of course she wouldn’t cheat on him, but at this point I feel ready to see them together. Which is why I was kind of surprised to see that the question everyone seems to be asking this week is if Abbott jumped the shark with the kiss, if it happened too soon.

            I say no, but maybe the skepticism of others means they’re right to at least not have Janine and Gregory leaping into a whole relationship right now (though who knows what next week holds). Regardless, I think it brings up an interesting conversation about audience involvement with story.

            I read a lot about story structure, and as a writer I’m extremely wary of books that are so specific with their breakdown of story structure that they can tell you the exact page every piece of action needs to occur on. I think structure is really important- it can almost always explain why something worked or didn’t work- but I see it like musical notes. There are a finite number of notes, and rules to be followed when writing and playing music, but is there a way to put them together that hasn’t been done yet? There better be, or a lot of people are out of a job.

            Part of new and innovative storytelling is, of course, the creativity of the storyteller, but it’s also an awareness of the audience’s own grasp of story. Fight Club, in its time, was doing something brand new. Watching it now, though, I find it to be a kind of exhausting three hours. We just don’t need to go that slow anymore; we’re an audience who’s already been taught all the clues to look for, and we can keep up just fine.

I’ve written before about Frasier- Niles and Daphne’s will-they/won’t-they went on for about eight years. Abbott isn’t reinventing the wheel, and, as viewers, this isn’t our first rodeo with a sitcom romance. I would be tearing my hair out if I was going to have to wait another six years for this kiss, the one everyone knew was coming by episode 3, if not the pilot. This is one of those times where we can slide our hand across the piano keys and get there a little quicker.

But Abbott Elementary is more than just Janine and Gregory! And I would like to talk about Jacob, who I actually find myself thinking about a lot when this show comes up. I’m not gonna say he’s not corny, but he is definitely a really great friend to Janine. They’re platonically perfect for each other, and the two of them jumping up and down about this conference, while I’m sure it would annoy me to witness for real, made me smile.

He's a dork, but I was happy to see him making some other friends outside of the Abbott crew, and to see him appreciated for who he is. I actually thought this storyline was going to take it a step further: he and the teacher from Addington hit it off so well that I thought she was going to mistake their chemistry for flirting and try to kiss him.

Maybe they didn’t want to step on the toes of The Kiss of this episode, but thinking that was going to happen made me realize that I actually would like to see that happen. I love every glimpse we get into the pureness of Jacob’s heart (the way he stood up for Janine when she was out sick was sooo sweet), and I bet him letting this girl down easy would have been a really cute moment. It’s also not too often that we get to see Jacob in his element where he’s actually popular among the people around him.

I hope this isn’t the last we see of that dynamic. Addington is just a couple blocks away, after all, maybe there’s an arc to be seen where the Addington teachers try to poach Jacob. Now that I’m thinking about it, there would be a lot there with Melissa’s sister and Barbara’s surely hurt feelings of not being the desired teacher. I can already feel my heart growing like the Grinch at everyone wanting to prove to Jacob that he’s valued at Abbott.

Well if that happens, you heard it here first folks! And what do you think, was the kiss too soon? Do you still think Fight Club is the right length? Let me know!

#abbott elementary #quinta brunson #tyler james williams #janine x gregory #jacob hill #gregory eddie #janine teagues

[writingdirty]

Remember the Bandaids?

I found this gem. Someone asked how they can get the bandaid marks I used to make (still make?) with my Attitude Adjuster. I gave them this, which is still valid in most states.

Anonymous asked: What do I have to do to get bandaid marks Mr. Stratton? I will literally do anything.

There is a simple application process. Follow the instructions below. All materials should be sent to [email protected] with the subject line: Please Hit Me Mister Stratton.

Step One, Documentation of the Body

The first step is thorough documentation of the applicant’s body. At this time only digital photographs and video are accepted. Higher quality images will score higher points.

The lips, the ears, the eyes (preferably with makeup,) the neck (with head raised,) collar bones, breasts (thorough exploration of the breasts, close up of the nipples (erect of possible,) as well as the whole breasts being squeezed and manipulated in various ways,) the belly, the belly button, the public mound (bonus points for being shaved or waxed,) various and detailed photos of the vulva, the buttox, the thighs, legs, and finally the feet.

Step Two, Psychological and Psychosexual Documentation

A list of fetishes, kinks, perversions and fantasies, along with a brief overview of sexual history, masturbatory schedules, sexual awakening, initial sexual encounters, etc.

Additionally, diary pages can be scanned and sent. Love letters, doodles, other personal ephemera (ideally sexual in nature) etc. can raise scores dramatically.

Step Three, Sexual Response Cycle Documentation

Audio and pictorial or (preferably) video documentation of your sexual response cycle. Taking me through an average masturbation session, making a point to record changes in skin color, engorgement of sexual and secondary sexual areas.

This should be accompanied by detailed accounts of fantasies used to get off or links to porn watched, read, etc.

Step Four, Preparation

If all materials are accepted, the applicant will go to the next round of the process which involves two weeks of edging every night. (If you are unfamiliar with the concept, please research.)

The applicant’s body should be primed for the final event of receiving the marks.

Step Six, Financial Reciprocity

Start saving your quarters. You must present a small bag or satchel with no less than $10 in quarters. Other shiny objects maybe suitable, but that is on a case by case basis.

Step Seven, Spiritual Initiation

The circle must be drawn in salt or chalk. It must be large enough to fit your body. Use a compass to find north and mark that point, then the other cardinal points. It is important to respect what you are doing. Drawing the circle is not a task, but an honor.

Call the quarters. They can represent many things, the four fundamental elements, the directions, the suits of the tarot. I’m not interested in you following some recipe. You find what those four sections of the universe mean to you and call them.

Sit there and think about what you want. Summon me as you would an incubus. Worship me as if I were a saint. Do this every night until you hope to receive your marks.

Step Eight, Announcement

On any media you have access to, proclaim your desire to get hit with my wooden stick. Well written posts, videos, songs, etc. all all acceptable.

Step Nine, Redacted

If you do all of this, you will receive further instructions.