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clairewritesfanfics · 26 days ago

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Villain Creation System Chapter 4

Pairing/s: Invincible x Reader x Invincible Variants

CHAPTER 3: When In Doubt, Do Your Research Series Masterlist <<read the synopsis and trigger warnings first>>

In the Chinese webnovels you liked to read between classes and study sessions, male leads were given “sword-like eyebrows.” These fan-translated novels never came with pictures, and you were left wondering what they actually looked like. According to the netizens you asked, for brows to be “sword-like” meant they were handsome or ideal.

Handsome eyebrows.

Oh-kay ?

You didn’t get it, not until you got to examine Mark Grayson up close. He had thick, handsome, black eyebrows that tapered cleanly to the sides, as though done by a professional makeup artist, but the system told you that this was his face au naturel.

It was unfair.

Even his eyelashes were prettier than yours, downcast as he read something on his tablet. He’s been reading quietly since he arrived fifteen minutes ago, slid his pandesal and coffee on the empty space of your table, folded his leather jacket on the back of the chair, and took a seat without ceremony.

You tapped harder on the keyboard.

“You’re going to destroy your laptop if you don’t lighten up,” he said, not even sparing you a glance.

“I don’t remember inviting you over.”

“My roommate’s being a pain and I needed someplace quiet to study.”

“There’s a library.”

“It’s too quiet.”

“Then go sit somewhere else.”

“But I like doing things while being watched, makes the task more exciting .”

You stopped typing and gave him a look.

“C’mon, I’ve been a good study buddy, haven’t I? No scribbling, no rustling of paper or loud typing–no offense–”

You felt a vein thump at your temple.

“–and besides,” he purred, bending his elbow over the table and leaning into his palm, “weren’t you enjoying the view just now?”

Blood rushed to your cheeks and you reached for your frappe, taking small sips to cool down.

Were you really that obvious?

[Yes, you were.]

You ignored the system and replied to Mark, “I was glaring at an unwanted visitor.”

He said nothing but that arrogant smirk told you everything you needed to know.

Okay, so you were sneaking a few glimpses. Actually, now that you think about it, you were outright gawking for at least a minute.

You didn’t mean to. It was just that… how could you not look?

Sure, you’ve seen pictures, watched videos of various actors and singers in your reality. Teen heartthrobs and K-pop idols who were considered national treasures were objectively gorgeous men, but looking at a screen is a very different experience from sitting across a living, breathing organism.

Stray raven locks touched his sword-like brows and framed the chocolatest pair of eyes you’ve ever seen. High cheekbones and sharp jawline. His smirk showed off slightly crooked teeth and a fuller lower lip. He wore a navy blue Henley shirt that hugged him in all the right places–

[You’re staring again, Host.]

Oh, boy.

You cleared your throat and forced your gaze back to your monitor, ignoring Mark’s haughty grin, looking more amused than ever.

“Admit it, princess, you think I’m hot.”

“Objectively, you have ideal features.” You resumed typing, refusing to meet his eyes. “And don’t call me ‘princess.’”

“So you agree?”

“It would be pointless to say that I don’t.”

“Which part of me is ideal?”

You shrugged, focus wavering from the conversation as you slowly fell into the rhythm of work. Your embarrassment from getting caught vanishes with each tap on the keyboard. “Your face is symmetrical with good bone structure. That’s always been an important factor in determining attractiveness. You’re at a reasonable height with a good build, again, a ubiquitous criterion for determining the visual appeal of males. Surely, you’re familiar with the old cliche: ‘tall, dark and handsome’? You check all the boxes.”

When you noticed that he wasn’t talking, you finally raised your head.

He was looking at you, wide-eyed and slack-jawed.

“What now?”

He covered his mouth and turned to the window. “I didn’t expect you to actually answer me.”

“I obviously can’t get rid of you, I can barely focus with you right there. Might as well make small talk while I do less taxing work.”

“I thought you were the type who hates small talk.”

“It’s not something I particularly enjoy, but I can do it to be polite, even when someone can’t take a hint.”

He was silent again.

An jazz instrumental of Fly Me to the Moon drowned out the sound of your typing.

He then asked, “Do I really bother you?”

You arched an imperfect brow at him. “Right now you’re not exactly helping me, are you?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I mean, do you really not like me?”

“I don’t hate you, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“... I know.”

“Look.” His hand went to the back of his neck. “I know I’ve been ass to you, but if you really don’t want me here, I’ll leave.”

His perpetual bedroom eyes suddenly looked like the eyes of a kicked dog. Geez, no wonder his exes still liked him.

You sighed. “It’s fine. You can stay here, just be quiet while I do my work.”

“Before you start, can I ask you something?”

“Not like I can stop you.”

“What exactly are you working on?”

“Annotating handouts,” you lied. “Planning out my weekly schedules, that kind of stuff.”

“Schedules? Like for arranging your dates?”

“I don’t date.”

“I figured.” He turned to his tablet, then back at you. “How come?”

“Never had the time.”

“And if you had the time?”

“I don’t, which renders your question and my answer moot.”

“Are you not into the whole romance stuff?”

You could tell he wanted to ask more than just romance. Regardless, you responded with a “No comment.”

He hummed and then finally returned to his reading.

[ Ding . Affection: 18%. Darkening: 3%.]

Seriously?

[It would seem that Mark Grayson is very fond of compliments.]

No kidding. He was popular, shouldn’t he be used to this type of stuff right now?

The system could only shrug.

This thing was capricious in what kind of information it was willing to share.

Deeming it useless once more, you switched tabs from the campus’ anonymous forums to Amber’s many, many posts. You skimmed her socials before, but with no news about Debbie, Nolan or Mark, she was your only lead. You knew very little about Invincible the animation, much less the comic book. You’ve seen promotional materials in passing. All you can remember is Mark and his dad, his mom (from your blurry recollection, she’s the most beloved character), that pink girl–

Wait.

You massaged your head, thinking.

Yes, a pink suit and long red hair.

Red hair.

You searched Amber’s photos. There was one taken during a party this semester. Amber was holding out a peace sign next to a young woman with carrot colored hair and jade green eyes. You missed the picture because Mark wasn’t in it.

The redhead was tagged Sam E. Wilkins.

[That’s Samantha Eve Wilkins, her superhero identity is Atom Eve. She is an enhanced human with the ability to manipulate matter.]

Judging from the name, I’m assuming she can manipulate matter at an atomic level?

[Subatomic level.]

That seems a bit OP.

[Is it?]

Come on, with that ability she can perform simultaneous transmutation, that’s mega OP. Why is she not the main character? Her power is more interesting than just flying and punching stuff.

[Host is so cute.]

The muscles in your jaw ticked.

[In this world, much like in yours, everything comes with a price.]

Enough with the riddles. What are you trying to tell me?

[This system is politely informing you not to deify the people here. Subatomic manipulation is something even a newborn system can do when given enough authorization.]

[<(˘ ˘ ˘)>]

Annoyed, you changed the topic.

What is her importance to the plot?

[She is a supporting character.]

To what degree?

[In the main timeline, she is Mark Grayson’s wife.]

You blinked once.

Twice.

WHAT?

To be honest you were surprised that the system gave you that information.

[I received authorization to share that tiny detail with you.]

“Tiny”? Tiny!

Your eye twitched as you scrutinized Samantha’s photo.

There’s nothing tiny about Mark Grayson having someone who was literally made for him. You even gave me that ridiculous affection meter, but what can I do against destiny?

[Host, the fact that you managed to even raise the meter is proof enough that you can do it.]

So what? Even if I get that to a 100%, that won’t stop him from falling for her eventually.

[Host–]

This is insane!

This was too much. Some part of you, deep inside your subconscious probably thought that this was just one nasty dream. One long, vivid, goofy dream. But one picture–one ridiculous line about soulmates broke through that part of you.

This was wrong.

This wasn’t fair.

You slammed your hands on the table, knocking your frappe to the floor.

Mark glanced up from his tablet. Concern flashed his face as his arm moved towards you��

[ Ding .]

You were floating. Mark, the cafe–everything was gone. You were submerged in neverending darkness. Not even the tiniest flicker of light was to be seen. You couldn’t hear anything, not until the system spoke to you directly.

[Host, have you calmed down yet?]

“What is this place?”

[This is Nothing. This is your fate if you fail to convert Mark Grayson. Perpetual nothingness. You can scream and cry and pray until you get bored of your own noise and still, no one will hear you. No one will come. You will be left in this Void all alone until the end of time.]

This was your future? This was your afterlife?

[I took you here to remind you of your goal. It matters not who or what is in your way, you must overcome them, use them to your benefit.]

“Why!? Why does it have to be me? Why couldn’t you just let me go to Heaven or reincarnate? I didn’t want this! I’m not cut out for this!”

[You may protest to your heart’s content, but there is no running away from this. You must continue forward regardless of the cost. There is no undoing what has been done. You agreed to our terms–

“You forced me!”

The system shut up.

“You forced me…” You repeated.

You wanted to cry but you couldn’t. You weren’t sure how you were talking because you had no mouth. You had nothing.

[Host, this system is here to assist you. Rest assured, I exist to ensure your victory. But first, calm down.]

You didn’t say anything.

[I told Host about Eve because I did not think that such information was so important.]

“They’re basically soulmates.”

The system let out a mechanical chuckle.

[There is a joke popular among my kind when it comes to soulmates: If God can split the Red Sea, then how about two lovers at the park?]

You replied with unimpressed silence.

[...ahem. Perhaps you would appreciate the words of a fellow human.]

That caught your attention. “Human?”

[You are my first Host and agent, but you are not the only contractor in history. An exceptional agent for the Secondary Character Grievance Delivery System once posed this question: “If the red string of fate were real, do you think it can be cut?”]

“I’m guessing the answer is yes.”

The system played out a bell sound, indicating that you were correct. [That host cut enough threads of fate to make a kimono. I’m sure my Host will become an even more amazing homewrecker!]

“Gee, thanks . But–” You didn’t appreciate being compared to a homewrecker, but you could tell it was doing its best to help you “–thanks.”

[˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶]

“Okay,” you said. “I think I’m ready.”

[Are you sure?]

“Yes. Send me back. Please.”

[All right. Preparing for transfer…rewinding–]

[ Ding .]

You were back at The Mug.

You glanced at the table. The frappe was still there, and Mark was still reading peacefully.

Your laptop was showing the anonymous discussion forum.

[I switched the tabs in case Host needed time to recover.]

You smiled.

You then clicked on Eve’s photo.

She could be useful.

[Maybe. It certainly will not hurt to have options.]

As you pondered over what to do next, Mark yawned.

You checked the time, it was barely past ten. “Tired this early in the morning?”

“I work late.”

“Modeling?”

He gave you a look.

“What?”

“Did you just make a joke?”

“Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

“I knew you thought I was sexy.”

“ Enough . We had this song and dance just twenty minutes ago.” You sipped on your frappe.

“What can I say, I like to boogie.”

You coughed out whipped cream. “I can’t believe you just said ‘boogie.’”

His grin deepened and he leaned forward. “What kind of music do you like to dance to?”

“Not much of a dancer.”

“Then what kind of music do you like?”

“Anything that’s good.”

He pouted.

“It’s the truth. As long as the beat is fun I don't care about the genre.”

His finger trails the screen of his tablet absentmindedly. “You listen to rock bands?”

“Sure.”

The finger stopped.

“I wouldn’t call myself an outright fan, I don’t go out of my way to attend concerts or anything.”

“You’ve never been to a concert?”

“No, I’ve been to one with some friends. I found the ride home more enjoyable.” Concerts were expensive. They were also loud, packed and too much trouble than they’re worth. The body odor clung to you for days. You shivered at the memory.

Mark snapped his fingers. “Just one? You’re basically a virgin.” He said the last part a little too loudly.

Your shoulders tensed. Several students turned their faces to look at your table.

Mark flinched under your glare.

“Don’t be crude,” you reprimanded.

“Sorry–but hey, if you’re interested, there’s this…” He trailed off.

“There’s this what?”

He grabbed his chin, thinking. Then he shook his head. “No, it’s nothing.”

“If you say so.”

You both did your own thing until Mark’s watch beeped.

He cringed as he read whatever message was sent to him.

You peered over your monitor. “Your girlfriend looking for you?”

He gave you a weak smile. “No, it’s my boss. I gotta go.”

“What kind of part-time job just calls you out of the blue?”

“A very sucky one.” He put his tablet back inside his bag and grabbed his jacket. “A sucky, sucky one who doesn’t believe in a work-life balance.”

“Sounds like a real buttmunch.”

He snorted. “Buttmunch?”

“You disagree?”

He shook his head, still smiling. “You’re right, he’s a gargantuan buttmunch.”

He started walking but stopped before he passed your seat. His arm slid over the back of your chair and he leaned close enough for you to see his collar bones peeking under his shirt. He smelled like soap.

“And by the way,” he whispered, “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

He held your stare with those umber eyes.

He smirked, pulled back and left.

You heard a ding from the system, followed by a congratulations, but you ignored it.

[Host, are you all right? Your temperature suddenly spiked, and why are you covering your mouth?]

“Just–” the hand on your mouth moved to your eyes “–just let me be for a moment.”

[Affection: 24%]

***

You finished today’s to-do list by saying goodbye to Amber after another tutoring session. She was so stressed for the upcoming exam that all the two of you talked about was academics, no gossip or unnecessary chatting. Normally, you would have preferred that type of interaction, but there was no window to ask about Eve.

Left with nothing else to do, you returned to your dorm and headed straight for the shower.

According to the system, the World Consciousness ensured that you wouldn’t get a roommate. A small boon in the grand scheme of things, but one you appreciated.

You starfished on your bed, the mild smell of soap enveloped you and you fell asleep.

You dreamt of relaxing in a swimming pool-sized mug, the hot coffee eased your joints. A giant flying pandesal hovered around you, calling you princess before diving in the middle of the mug.

[Host.]

You startled awake. “Huh?”

[Host, get up.]

You felt around the bed for your phone. Squinting, you checked the time: 23:22.

[Something is wrong. Get up.]

Before you could tell it to blow itself, it flashed you Mark’s corruption status.

[Darkening: 6%]

That got you up.

“What happened? I haven’t done anything.”

[I think it would be best if you saw for yourself.]

Your phone suddenly started playing the news, its volume set to maximum.

“Thousands of dollars worth of property damage, hundreds of civilians injured and dozens are presumed dead in the wake of Invincible’s fight against–”

You put on pants and an Upstate University sweatshirt. “Can you help me find him?”

The system presented a map with a blinking red dot. He was right here, within school grounds.

[He’s on the rooftop of the main building.]

The main building is off limits this time of night. He must’ve flown there. But how the heck were you supposed to get there?

[Leave it to this system, Host!]

***

Mark Grayson sat on the edge of the roof, reclined over his arms.

It was almost midnight so the usual hustle-bustle has calmed down.

His mind wandered over to a certain woman. Did you get home safely? Were you still with Amber?

He glanced over the campus and over the rest of the city. Everything was quiet here. Peaceful.

If he was this far away, he didn’t have to look at all those people he broke. Their homes were in shambles and they all blamed him–

Huwhahh

A monstrous sound from the stairway had him on his feet immediately. “Who’s there?!”

“Huhuuuuwahhhhuu”

You pushed against the rooftop door and crawled out of the stairs, wheezing.

Mark stopped himself from stepping forward and speedily threw his civilian clothes over his suit.

You were on your hands and knees, breathing like you’ve been running.

“Jesus, are you okay?” He called out your name.

“Hm?” Your head bobbed up. “Mark? Why’re you here?”

“Me? What are you doing? What’s wrong?”

“I–I–” Your nose almost hit the floor but he caught you.

“Is someone trying to hurt you?”

“No, no.” You closed your eyes and concentrated on breathing first. Once you were back to normal you looked at him properly. “Hi.”

“...hi.”

“I didn’t think anybody would be here.”

“For what, your dying goose roleplaying act?” He helped you sit. “Why’re you here?”

You mumbled something, refusing to make eye contact.

“What?”

“I said–” you appeared just about ready for the Earth to swallow you whole “–I wanted to see if there really is a White Lady here.”

“White Lady?”

Every school has a ghost story, especially universities. Wayne Technical Academy had the giant ghost bat, Metropolitan State had a headless librarian, and Upstate University had the White Lady haunting the main building.

Mark blinked. “Seriously?”

“Amber told me about it.”

“You believe in ghosts? You ?”

Your recovering cheeks heated up again. “I just wanted to see.”

“Ghosts aren’t real.”

“They’ve never been proven but they’ve not been disproven either–why am I explaining myself to you?”

“Why were you out of breath?”

“I was, uh–” You kept your eyes on the ground. “I was fine walking around the halls when I heard footsteps behind me and I–I bolted up the stairs.”

He blinked more slowly this time. Then his arms covered his stomach as he cackled.

“Mark!”

“C’mon, that’s hilarious!”

“It’s not that funny.” You lightly hit his shoulder and he raised his hands up.

“Sorry, sorry.”

“Now it’s your turn. Why are you here? This place is off-limits.”

He wiped a tear away. “I wanted to be alone, really alone.”

“Oh.”

“Not going to ask why?”

“No.” You looked over his shoulder and at the buildings. “I have days like that, too.”

Mark watched you for a while, then he sat beside you and you admired the lights together.

The speakers scattered across the campus played the sound of a bell, signaling midnight.

He got up, patted the dust off his rear and wiped his palms over his thighs. He gave you his hand. “Come on. I’ll walk you back.”

***

As expected, there were few people outside during this time. The trip back to your dorm was uneventful, but you appreciated that Mark didn’t try to engage in small talk.

“This is my building.”

“And?”

“Aaand thanks. You can go now.” That came out colder than you intended. “I’m sure you’re tired so thank you. Again.”

“Don’t you want me to check under your bed for any monsters?”

“There’s no need, I’m sure the demons in my closet scared them off.”

He laughed again. “All right, all right, I know when to take a hint.”

You cocked an eyebrow.

He grinned.

You rolled your eyes. “Good night, Mark.”

“Good night, princess.”

The door clicked behind you and you started walking towards the elevator.

[Excellent work, Host!]

Pink and black contrasted against each other as Mark Grayson’s current status floated in front of you.

[Affection: 28%. Darkening: 6%.]

“I can’t believe you made me take the stairs.”

[It worked in your favor, didn’t it? You’re a surprisingly good actor when push comes to shove.]

You couldn’t argue with that. It was a good thing you read about the school’s ghost stories from the forum. Otherwise, you didn’t know what lie you could have told him for suddenly appearing.

The system was too busy celebrating to notice your distress.

[The Host managed to get over a quarter of affection in less than a week. Huzzah!]

Fatigue set in your bones and you leaned against the cool metal wall of the elevator.

“I want something sweet,” you grumbled.

taglist: @weponxwrites @ratkidcalledallie @qxuanii @lilacoaks

Disclaimer: The images used in this post do not belong to writerclaire. They were lifted from the following sources:

Invincible flying

Alternate Invincibles

CHAPTER 5: This Boy is a Choking Hazard Series Masterlist

ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊

MAIN MASTERLIST

Any questions for the author? Ask here.

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clairewritesfanfics · 1 month ago

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Villain Creation System Chapter 3

Pairing/s: Invincible x Reader x Invincible Variants

CHAPTER 2: Tutorial Mission START Series Masterlist <<read the synopsis and trigger warnings first>>

For a fake world, the chemistry lecture here was as dull as the real one’s.

After Mark disappeared to who knows where, you resumed life as a college student and went to class. Biochemistry, a fascinating subject, but the teacher had a voice that could put dragons to sleep. Compared to your philosophy professor, the man detailing the steps to the citric acid cycle spoke without a change in his inflection and was less “discussing” and “more reading from his powerpoint.”

It was a good thing you–this version of you–took up philosophy. The so-called “hard sciences” are fun, but being human means having limited time, and when buttloads of information is crammed into you without time for processing and then quizzed, the fun tends to diminish.

The bell rang.

“I will upload the modules for the next session by tonight, and don’t forget to answer the formative quiz for today’s lecture. Have a good day, everyone.”

You opened your planner. This was the last class for today, and there didn’t seem to be anything else written here, only this semester’s schedule.

Huh.

[Accurate to the real thing, I’d say.]

“If that is a jab at me then you’re wasting your breath, or whatever energy you use to talk.” You didn’t like social engagements. It would seem this version of you was the same. Good. At least you didn’t have to worry about making small talk with strangers. You had this body’s memories, but they were limited, imperfect.

“What should we do now?” You asked, walking out of the auditorium.

[That is up to the Host. ]

[Your will is my will.]

“Is that your way of telling me you’re not gonna help me?”

[ ˶ˆ꒳ˆ˵ ]

You rolled your eyes and opened your phone. The list of contacts you had were straightforward; parents, several family members, some old classmates and friends. Vague figures in the back of this brain’s memory. The system told you not to bother contacting any of them. [It would be pointless] was its reply when you inquired why.

You checked the apps. Facebook was a thing here but Twitter was replaced by “Z” and Youtube was “WeTV.” A lot of the creators “you” followed were news outlets.

You clicked a WeTV link to a livestream report of a monster attack in Australia, then another in Brazil, and one in the Philippines.

“Geez.” You were never going to complain about being bored again. “Those poor people.”

[Look on the bright side, Host, here the destruction of nations can be blamed on an external threat rather than the political leaders. In your reality, you humans have no one else to blame but yourselves.]

Spoken in a robotic voice with a cheery lilt. It seemed genuine in its attempt to comfort you, so you bit your tongue and continued scrolling.

Monsters, villains, more monsters, more villains. Hundreds of people injured, dozens dead.

Just then, a light bulb went off in your head. “I think I know what I’m supposed to do now.”

The dorm was too far so you went to the campus library. You found a vacant computer near the wall, far from prying eyes.

[Resorting to cyberstalking, I see.]

“Before I can make him snap, I need to figure out what makes him tick.”

Judging from his socials, Mark’s popular, not just as Invincible, but as Mark Grayson. He was on the debate team back in high school, played bass at a band called Indigo Muse, and, if the many, many, many posts about him were anything to go by, he was well-loved by the ladies.

When you couldn’t find any family pictures, you decided to study his superhero identity.

This world’s Invincible wore a black suit with blue accents. Most pictures of him were blurred, which was either on purpose or incredibly fortunate, because he didn’t wear a mask or cowl.

UNKNOWN SUPER SAVES BUS OF TEENS

NEW SUPERHERO RISES THE RANKS

INVINCIBLE HELPS OLD LADY DOWN THE STREET

Going by the news articles, he’s been a hero for a mere four months. “No wonder the corruption meter is mostly empty.” You’ve seen this play out before, not in Invincible , but in various coming of age stories. This Mark was a fledgling. His morals were still intact, but judging from that 3%, he’s starting to see that the world of superheroes isn’t squeaky clean.

You pushed down the pity in your chest and continued with your research.

From what you can tell, the professional supes were employed by the Global Defense Agency aka the GDA. The veteran heroes were known as the Guardians of the Globe, and there was the Teen Team, composed of younger heroes. Invincible wasn’t part of either. He assisted both groups in the past, usually to evacuate civilians.

No interviews, no press conferences.

He was surprisingly mysterious. With how much of a flirt he was, you thought for sure he would be the showboating type, but judging from the poorly recorded videos of him zooming around, he did his job quickly and left before news reporters could hound him.

There were only so many news articles and blog posts about him before you realized there was nothing else to study.

You opened your notebook and made a summary of everything you knew so far:

Womanizer

Doesn’t remember me from childhood

English major *shares same philosophy class

Bass player

Debuted as a hero four months ago

Not part of a team

Popular as civilian and hero

Home life?

You circled the last item on your list several times. Try as you might, Mark’s parents were mysteries to you. Omni-Man disappeared ten years ago and you had nothing on Debbie Grayson. Her son didn’t have her as a friend on Facebook and he had zero pictures of him and parents.

“Not even a hint?” You asked the system.

System: (づ_ど)

Giving up, you decide to switch topics and begin digitizing your lecture notes.

[You’re actually studying?]

“Not like I have anything better to do. I can’t exactly hack into the Pentagon’s database and my head hurts from all that research, and since someone refuses to be useful, I’m stuck on what to do now.”

[...]

The system fell quiet and let you be.

The minutes flew by as you typed.

“Excuse me.” A feminine voice whispered and your knee jerked against the table.

You gasped in pain, earning a few looks from the neighboring students.

“Sorry,” the snooper said.

[Ding. The character known as Amber Bennett has made contact.]

No kidding! Couldn’t you have warned me that she was here!?

[Host looked so deeply invested in studying that this system did not wish to disturb you.]

[Fufufu.]

Rubbing your knee, you met Amber’s apologetic eyes. “I didn’t mean to spook you, but uh, your typing’s… a little loud.”

Ah. That would explain the hard glares from some of the people here. “Sorry, I got too excited I guess. I’ll keep it down.”

“Thanks.” She glanced at your desk. “By the way, I can’t help but notice, you're in Professor Gonzales’ class, right?”

When she saw your brows crease in confusion, she added, “Biochemistry?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“We share the same class then, I’m Amber Bennett.”

“I know.”

She blinked, wide-eyed.

You quickly added, “You’re one of the scholarship students. I saw the university page congratulating you.”

“Yeah, um, about that…” She turned to your monitor. “Your notes are easy to follow. Especially compared to the professor’s powerpoint.”

“I try.”

She grabbed her shoulder. “This is gonna sound weird but are you available for tutoring?”

“Tutoring?”

There was a collective “shhh” from all directions and Amber ducked her head.

“See, I’ve been struggling with chemistry since the first day and I’ve never failed before, but–”

“Okay.”

“Really?”

You nodded.

She beamed. “That’s great! I think we’re already in the same group chat for the freshmen course but just in case–” She pulled out a pen and you pushed a blank page towards her. She scribbled her number.

“I’ll pay you, of course.”

“Sure, we can talk about details some other time.”

“I really appreciate this–”

You gave her your name and her smile brightened. “You’re a lifesaver! I should go now before the rest of the library decides to crucify us both.”

You raised your hand in goodbye and then picked up your notebook.

No, Amber, you’re the lifesaver here.

***

That evening, Amber asked to meet with you at the campus coffee shop.

The Coffee Mug, more colloquially known as The Mug, was three storeys high and looked far more interesting than any Starbucks you’ve been to. Cubist and art deco paintings lined the bare brick walls, contrasting the wood and iron furniture. Bossa nova jazz played from the ceiling speakers.

“I gotta hand it to the author, or whoever, whatever made this place, they know how to design a good-looking cafe.”

You almost didn’t mind that the person who asked for your help was already eight minutes late.

You were getting impatient, mostly because it was seven o’clock and you still haven’t had dinner. You had a black coffee to stave off the hunger pangs, but the scent of toasted savory pastries and the sight of cake called out to you like a siren.

[Just order, Host, don’t tell me you’re waiting for Amber so she could pay.]

“What do you take me for?” You harrumphed. “I’d love to, but it would be rude to start eating without her.”

[!!]

[Really? How so?]

You shrugged.

“But drinking is okay?”

“Yes.”

[You humans sure do like making things harder for yourselves.]

“Tell me about it.”

God, where the Hell is she?

As you started debating whether manners were truly necessary, your phone pinged. It was Amber.

Hey, are u at the cafe?

Im so sorry, my group meeting decided to have overtime.

I wired u some money, dinner’s on me. sorry again!

Well, damn. Guess God does listen.

Spirits lifted, you got up and practically skipped towards the menu. This place might’ve been called a coffee shop, it had a big menu not unlike a diner’s, and the food selection was listed with colorful chalk on giant blackboards hanging behind the counter.

You’ve been thinking about what to eat even while you were at the table. But even now you weren’t sure what to get. A sandwich and salad combo? The lasagna? Maybe something from their all-day breakfast?

[Ding.]

“I recommend their three-cheese omelette.”

You barely had to turn your head to find Mark’s chin hovering over your shoulder. Soft dark bangs tickled your cheek.

“Mark.”

“Gorgeous.” He winked and then approached the counter.

The girl handling the cashier noticed him and her surprise turned to coyness as she pushed back a pink strand of hair behind her ear and smiled. “Hey, Mark.” If this were a cartoon you’d imagine her eyes would be in the shape of hearts right now.

You couldn’t blame her. Looking around the floor, a mix of subtle and unsubtle staring were aimed at Mark. You understood. Six feet, jet black hair, strong biceps, a pretty waist that led to the most callipygous butt you’ve ever seen.

That being said, you’d rather not get into the habit of ogling at rear ends without permission, so you walked closer and stood beside him.

Mark leaned onto the counter, flashing a flirtatious smile. “Hey, Kelsey. Can I get my usual, for dine-in, and an om–”

“I’ll get the large grilled chicken salad with honey mustard and one medium choco mint frappe.”

Mark snorted, but didn’t say anything else as he handed her a few dollars.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Don’t be like that, consider this my olive branch.”

“For what?”

“For cutting our date short and not walking you home.”

“First of all, that wasn’t a date, because if it was, then your standards need quality control. Secondly, it wasn’t like I needed to come home. I still had classes.”

Not wanting to third-wheel, Kelsey put Mark’s change on the small metal plate beside the register and hurried off to prepare the orders.

Without skipping a beat, Mark put the change in the tip box. “Then what is your ideal date?”

You tilted your head.

“You said my standards need to improve, but how do I know yours is any good?”

“I guess you don’t.” You crossed your arms.

His grin turned mischievous. “Let me guess, you want a fancy dinner? No, you don’t seem like the type who dresses up frequently. I know, is it this cafe? Are coffee shops your thing? Bookish girls like these kinds of places.”

You turned on your heels. “I’m ignoring you now.”

Folding his hands behind him, he trailed after you, remaining two steps behind, pretending like he couldn’t outpace you with those long legs of his.

“Wait, is that why you’re here? You’re waiting for a date?” He watched you take a seat. “That can’t be it though, who orders before their date?”

Refusing to look at him, you opened your phone as you expressed your gratitude, “Thank you for paying, now would you kindly get lost?”

[Host, what are you doing? This is the perfect time to seduce him.]

Yeah, not happening. I need to be five kinds of drunk before I even consider– “What are you doing?”

He slid into the seat across from yours. “Hey, I’m hungry too.”

“There are other tables, y’know.”

He cocked his eyebrow and you briefly scanned the room. Right. This was a university cafe. Dammit. He did pay for your food, and he wasn’t totally obnoxious to warrant a kick out.

With a sigh, you opted to just ignore him and kept refreshing your phone.

“So, are you going to study here?”

“...”

“The music’s pretty nice, if a little basic.”

“...”

“I can’t really stand music when I’m studying, or the sound of people talking. When I’m reading, I’m reading. When I’m listening to music, that’s all I’m going to do. I guess I’m not a multitasker, I like to think of myself as–”

You slammed twenty-five dollars on the table. “Please take this and leave.”

He put his elbows on the table and leaned closer. “Nah.”

Ugh.

“What do you want from me?”

He flexed his arm and leaned his chin on the palm of his hand. “Tell me why else you’re here.”

“To eat dinner.”

“And?”

“To study.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’s none of your business.”

“You want me to leave, don’t you?”

“...I have an appointment.”

“Is the appointment romantic in nature?”

“Not even a little bit. It’s purely academic, and I’d like to keep it confidential, so could you–”

Kelsey arrived holding two trays. “One large grilled chicken salad with one medium choco mint frappe, and one freshly toasted cheese and sausage eggdesal[1] with a cup of black coffee.”

“Thanks, Kels, but you didn’t have to bring it here, I would’ve gotten it.” Mark said.

She giggled, “Nah, it’s the least I could do. It’s not everyday you stay here to eat.”

“Well, I still feel bad since the place is packed.”

“It’s my pleasure. We’re not super busy right now since most of the students here just buy one drink for their whole stay.”

“You’re a doll.”

“Enjoy your meal.” She smiled at both of you and returned to her station.

He took a sip of the coffee. “Sweet girl, that one. You know, she’s a physics major–”

“How do you do that?”

His lashes flickered over the rim of the cup.

“How can you… charm people so effortlessly?”

Foamy coffee squirted through his mouth and nose and onto his sandwich. Luckily for you, you reflexively pulled your plate back just in time.

You pulled out the pack of tissue you kept in your backpack and slid it towards him.

He patted his chest and coughed into the tissues.

You folded your hands over the table and waited patiently for him to regain his bearings. Once his coughing calmed down, you asked, “Well?”

“Wow. You…wow.”

“It’s a genuine question, I think I deserve a genuine answer.” If it weren’t for your unique circumstance, you would have folded like a cheap hooker if Mark Grayson approached you the way he did after the philosophy lecture. The rest of your brain would’ve had no chances in overriding your hypothalamus. Or your loins.

“I don’t know where to begin, I–”

“Mark?”

Amber was here.

“Wow,” he breathed, attention switching from Amber to you. “You really did have a meeting.”

She looked baffled but there was no trace of anger or anything. “Why’re you here, Mark? You hate eating here.”

“I was just about to leave.” He picked up his sandwich. “See ya, girls.” And with that, he departed, leaving you alone with Amber, who was–according to past posts–his ex-girlfriend.

Amber laid her bag on the now empty chair. “Sorry for being late, I didn’t expect us to take two hours deciding on how to divide a simple report on childhood obesity.”

“It’s okay, ‘cause of you I just found my second favorite place.” The first will always be your bedroom.

Amber twiddled with her fingers as you poured the honey mustard over the salad.

“Mark didn’t, I mean, he–”

“I didn’t tell him about the tutoring,” you reassured her. “I didn’t know if you wanted people to know, I just told him it was for school.”

“Really? Thank you! But that’s not what I was going to say.” She cleared her throat. “How do you know Mark?”

“We attend the same philosophy class.”

She looked everywhere except your gaze. “This probably isn’t any of my business, but you seem like a nice person so you should know that Mark doesn’t do the girlfriend thing.”

You used your fork to toss your salad. “I see.”

“Don’t get me wrong, he isn’t evil or anything. He’s a sweet guy, it’s just that, he isn’t boyfriend material.”

You nodded. “Thanks for telling me.”

She let out a sigh of relief. “Good, good. Listen, if you do want to hook up with him, that’s totally your call, I just thought I should tell you.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be too busy for a boyfriend, anyway. Thanks, I really do appreciate it.”

Mark Grayson? Please. Not even in a hundred lifetimes.

[ Ding. ]

You dropped your fork.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah… yeah, my hand slipped,” you muttered, trying not to gawk at the system’s holographic screen.

[Affection: 12%. Darkening: 3%.]

Glossary: [1] eggdesal: an egg sandwich that uses pandesal, a sweet and salty bread roll. It can be served plain with just the egg (either with scrambled or over easy), or with other fillings like bacon, sausages, and/or cheese.

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