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pure-smut · 2 months

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say red: part 2

featuring: Iwaizumi Hajime x f!reader

contains: academic rivals to lovers, dom!Iwaizumi, degradation, dirty talk, rough s*x, creampie, some angst at the end

note: all characters are over 18!

MDNI | 18+ content

word count: 1.5k

series: 1. say red | 2. say red | 3. say red

masterlist

Iwaizumi Hajime nibbles his bottom lip when he’s concentrating.

You play with the straw of your iced coffee as you watch him, his eyes fixed on the notepad in front of him, scribbling furiously. His roommates are hosting a gaming marathon, complete with snacks, soda, and copious amounts of BO, so Iwaizumi had asked you to meet him at a coffee shop instead.

You’ve been meeting up twice a week for over a month now, as you’d both agreed. About 20% of that was actually working on the project. Which is probably why Iwaizumi is so focused on his notes right now, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“You could help, y’know,” he mutters, not looking up or breaking pace from his writing.

“I’m providing emotional support,” you say brightly, taking a sip of coffee.

Iwaizumi sits back with a sigh, rubbing his eyes.

“That means so much to me,” he says flatly, before gesturing at his notepad. “I can’t figure this out.”

You peer over, obnoxiously slurping coffee from the bottom of your cup.

“Oh, that?” You point at one of his answers. “You’re mixing up the numbers here.”

“What?” Iwaizumi shoots forward, eyebrows furrowed. “Where?”

“Here.” You drag your finger down the page. “And here.”

You sit back, rattling your straw through leftover ice. Iwaizumi stares at the page.

“How do you do that?” he says quietly.

“Do what?”

He turns to you, frowning.

“You don’t even bring a pencil to class. You file your nails when you’re meant to be paying attention. You don’t even try.” Iwaizumi’s voice breaks slightly, his jaw clenching. “How do you keep beating me?”

You avert your eyes, smoothing your features into something detached. Iwaizumi doesn’t know how much you study after class, how you do listen when you’re filing your nails or playing on your phone, you just pretend not to. That you record every lecture to listen back to later.

Iwaizumi doesn’t know you looked at his notes all evening yesterday, working them out in advance.

You give a bored shrug.

“Part genius, I guess?” You flash him your sugary smile. “Don’t worry your pretty head about it.”

You reach forward and slide your hand over his thigh.

“We’re finished studying now, right? Let’s go back to mine.” You squeeze his hard muscle.

You have't brought him back to your place before, favoring his bedroom instead, but that's not much of an option right now and you're getting horny from the way his forearm muscles move when he writes.

Iwaizumi studies you a moment longer, giving you that same intense look you recognise from the first time you tried, and successfully, seduced him. Like he can see exactly what you’re doing. You’ve been physically exposed in front of him numerous times already but when he looks at you like this, it’s like he’s stripped you bare.

Your smile doesn’t falter despite your thumping heart and eventually, Iwaizumi sighs.

“You’re incorrigible,” he says, rolling his eyes, but he stands up and gets ready to leave regardless.

When you get back to your bedroom, it doesn’t take long for Iwaizumi to bend you over the desk. Since the first time you slept together and he ripped your panties, you’ve made sure you go commando every time you know you’re going to meet up.

Iwaizumi grabs you by the back of your neck, pinning you to the desk as he runs a thick finger along your slit.

“You’re always so wet for me,” he murmurs. “Such a good whore, begging to be fucked.”

You groan as Iwaizumi sinks a finger inside you, curving so he can stroke the sensitive spot he knows so well now. He’s right – there’s something about him that makes you so wet, makes your body respond to him before he’s even touched you. You can feel yourself dripping down your thigh.

“You want to be fucked, little slut?”

He presses his finger deeper and your breath hitches. When you don’t respond, Iwaizumi withdraws his finger to land a hard slap across your ass. You yelp, skin stinging.

“Yes, Iwa,” you say, pushing your hips back to rub your ass against his crotch. “I want it.”

Iwaizumi spanks you again at the use of ‘Iwa’, marking his handprint in bright red against your ass cheek. But he doesn’t scold you anymore – he hates how much he likes it now. How cute you sound, how bratty, even as you’re so lewdly on display for him. You’d called him Iwa once during class and he had to put his bag on his lap to hide the boner it gave him.

“Say red,” he tells you, leaning forward to whisper against the shell of your ear. “And I’ll stop.”

At your needy whine, Iwaizumi pulls back to unzip his jeans, pulling his cock free through the hole. It’s an unspoken rule between you both – no one gets naked. Your “project meet ups” involve hiked up dresses and half-pulled down jeans, just enough for the two of you to fuck and no more. Iwaizumi’s hand hovers over the hem of your dress, wanting to strip you of it fully and have you, all of you, beneath him.

“Iwa…” you mewl, not able to see what he’s doing with his hand on your neck. “Stop teasing.”

You wiggle your ass, the flesh moving hypnotically, and Iwaizumi pulls back to line his cock up with your entrance instead. You give a content sigh as he slides himself in.

“So fucking needy.” He strokes himself in and out a few times, coating his cock in your arousal. The sight is beyond erotic and he has to tighten his grip on your neck to stop himself from moaning.

Iwaizumi doesn’t give you much time to adjust, slamming himself up to the hilt and making you cry out. The desk rattles against the wall with each thrust as you’re pinned in place, helpless to move.

“T-too… deep...!” you cry out, hands splayed against the desk.

“Say red.” Iwaizumi slaps your ass again before spreading your cheeks, giving him better access. “Say fucking red.”

You say nothing, your hands fisting the loose paper around you. Your whimpers mix with the squelch of your sopping cunt, filling the room. It feels like Iwaizumi’s using you to get himself off and the thought makes your thighs tremble.

“You gonna cum already?” Iwaizumi taunts. “What a good little slut.”

His words spur you on, nudging you over the edge of euphoria. Your legs buckle as Iwaizumi pounds away at you, his cock hitting just the right spot inside you. Your walls clamp down around him, pulling him in every time he withdraws like you don’t want him to leave.

Your orgasm always triggers Iwaizumi’s, your pussy milking him too fucking tightly for him to think straight. He wants to last longer, wants to prolong this time with you, but you make it impossible. A trail of curses falls from his lips as he explodes inside you, marking you on the inside with his cum. He slows only after the last spurt of his seed dribbles inside you, his softening cock overly sensitive.

You don’t stand straight away, your legs like jelly, so Iwaizumi quickly grabs a towel from the floor and holds it against your puffy lips.

“T-thanks.” You huff out laughter, taking the towel from him. “Always a gentleman.”

“Not when I fuck, apparently,” he replies, a rare smile playing on his lips.

You quickly make your way to the bathroom to clean up, leaving Iwaizumi alone in your room to tuck himself away again. When you return, he’s still smiling.

“What’s funny?” you ask, readjusting the hem of your dress.

“Nothing,” he shrugs but his smile doesn’t leave.

Before you can say anything back, Iwaizumi crosses the room and kisses you. It’s not like his other kisses, rough and demanding. This one is soft and sweet. He cups your cheek with one hand as the other pulls you to him by your waist. You melt into him without thinking, your eyes fluttering closed as you kiss him back.

When he draws back slightly, your heart is thumping so loud you think it might burst out of your chest. Iwaizumi looks down at you, olive eyes glinting, and you find it suddenly hard to breathe.

“What…” You swallow past the lump in your throat and step back. Iwaizumi’s hands fall to his side. “What was that for?”

He shrugs.

“Do I need a reason?”

“I… you…”

It’s like your brain has short circuited. You scramble for a cutting retort but your mind is blank, like it’s been wiped clean. Your detached veneer that you work so hard to maintain has evaporated. Iwaizumi watches you with that same damn look, like you’re under a microscope. Like you’re naked.

Smart, cool, unbothered you has come undone by a fucking kiss.

“You should leave,” you eventually manage to say, voice hoarse.

Iwaizumi frowns, eyes narrowed. It’s like all the air has been sucked out of the room and you find yourself breathing hard, cheeks hot.

You think he’s going to put up a fight but all he says is, “Fine.”

When the door closes behind him, you press your back to it, sinking down to the ground. Six weeks ago, you didn’t even register who Iwaizumi Hajime was. Now it feels like he’s got a fist around your heart.

What happens if he decides to crush it?

masterlist

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#haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyu smut #haikyu x reader #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi x you #iwaizumi x y/n #iwaizumi smut #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi hajime x you #iwaizumi hajime smut #hajime iwaizumi x reader #hajime iwaizumi x you #aoba johsai smut #seijoh x reader #seijoh smut

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the-forbidden-pookie · 1 year

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Pleasantries

Tw: SFW, can be read as gender neutral tho written with a fem reader in mind, fluff.

Pairing: Wanderer x Reader

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

"There's no need to exchange pleasantries. It's rather pathetic to force a conversation, just to occupy silence."

"Sure buddy," you say with an eye roll "so you've said a million times already."

The two of you have set up a small camp near the outskirts of Sumeru City, taking a rest after a long afternoon of clearing the fatui infested routes. You were sitting across from each other with a small camp fire between you.

"And yet idiots like you keep asking me pointless questions." He replies haughtily.

"It's what friends do dude, you chat together about stuff you like, or... " You smile mischievously. "Would you rather when it's my turn to cook, I make you a pile of extra sweet tricolored dango? Or what if, say, I hand them over to you as a gift in front of Nahida?" He glares. "Something tells me she won't just let you dump them somewhere." You say smugly.

"...I'd like to see you try."

"I'm just saying, that would definitely make you annoyed right? So you like, have to tell me your likes and dislikes." You pull out a notebook and pen from seemingly nowhere and prepare yourself to write; "Go on then don't be shy," you smile cheekily, "tell me everything."

He sighs. "...Fine, just to shut you up." He looks up towards the night sky. "I loathe overly sweet things, even more so if they stick to my teeth. As for favorites... I guess in that regard, the simpler the better."

The wanderer watches as you scribble into your notebook, it's cover turned to him so he can't actually see the contents of the page. "I see, and what drinks do you enjoy?" You continue.

"Something with a rather bitter flavor to it would suit me well. Any sugary drinks are certainly out of the question."

You hum. "Makes sense." You say distractedly, then flip the notebook and show him you had not, in fact, been writing anything he told you. Instead there were poorly drawn stick figures of the both of you holding hands and smiling. "Say, do you think I have a future in the art business?"

"Well, that's just downright awful." He scoffs. "No one would hire you. You lack understanding of basic human anatomy; the arms are too short, the torso too thin, the face is almost beyond salvation, and the hair... I'm not even sure it's supposed to be hair. Do better."

You fall out of your seat cackling, your whole body shaking. "Dang dude you're brutal!" It takes effort for you to subdue your laughs. You stand, but instead of returning to your previous seat you go sit on the log next to him, still giggling to yourself.

"Well, I try. You asked for my opinion, you should expect nothing less than honesty."

" 'K, 'k. So, what about you? Can you draw?" You sit next to him, but angle your body to face his.

"I've never been very good at it, to be honest. The only things I can draw are maps and blueprints. I've even used to have a rather elaborate sketchbook full of those."

"Oh?" You say, grabbing your notebook-now-revealed-sketchbook again, flipping it to a new page. "Were those from your fatui days? When you were planning... Fatui things?"

"You could say that. My drawings of my personal projects in particular were highly confidential. I only showed them to my closest confidants."

"I'm surprised you even had confidants, with that nasty temper you had back then." You pick up your pen and go back to your scribbling.

He crosses his arms "You're really testing my patience here."

"What?" You respond teasingly, eyes focused on your work in the sketchbook. "You're the one that likes honesty so much!" You challenge.

"Fair enough. Then I'll be upfront with you: your drawing skills suck. They're terrible. If you think there's talent in that hand of yours, you're lying to yourself."

"Mhm..." You respond distractedly, your sketchbook turned away from him like before.

"Are you even listening to me?" In a flash, he's reaching for the sketchbook to see whatever it is you're-

You slap his hand away, albeit not harshly. "You'll see when I'm done ."

"...Fine. Keep your damn secret. What could that page possibly be for? You still think you can be an artist, don't you?"

You look up at him sharply, and keep eye contact for a long moment, long enough he worries he'd actually managed to offend you, but then you go right back to the sketchbook, ignoring him once more.

"...You really are the most annoying person I've ever met." He grumbles.

That brings a chuckle out of you. "Funny I could say the same about you," you respond easily, then glance up at him with a soft smile "but you know, you're also my favorite person to hangout with.

"...Did you just make a romantic implication?"

"Maybe I did and maybe I didn't." You reply casually, going back to your work.

He raises a brow. "Hmm. Do you happen to have feelings for me by any chance?"

"Is that your attempt to get a confession? Or maybe..." You glance up at him with a smirk, "Fishing for compliments, wanderer?"

His face flushes a soft purple. Pretty you think. "That was absolutely not what I was doing, I was simply... uh..."

You giggle. "Either way," you say, rising from your seat and carefully tearing out the page you'd been working on, then handing it over, revealing a sketched portrait of himself, signed : What if I do like you? -(y/n). You take a step back, awaiting his reaction, feeling uncharacteristically nervous.

"What... He stares at the drawing in awe for a few moments ...How did you manage to capture my likeness this fast? This is almost creepy." He adds the last comment almost out of habit, clearly not meaning it one bit.

"Then I guess I should spend less time with you? That is the only reason I was able to draw you this fast... Maybe we should hangout less, since you find it so unsettling." You say with mock offense.

"No, that's not... Don't leave. And didn't you promise not to, anyways?"

He stands and takes a few steps closer to you and looks at the drawing again. "My hat... the sleeves... that's all correct. Are you, by chance, a professional artist in disguise?"

"Just a hobby," you answer, "though don't think I was born with special talent or anything, it took lots of practice."

"I..." He lightly runs a finger on the lines, careful not to smudge them, not that the material he's made out of can really do that. "It's beautiful. I could never replicate your passion to the craft, even if I spent my entire existence practicing. He looks towards you. "It's an honor to be the subject of your drawing. I'll keep it, as a keepsake."

That's unfair you think, flushing. "I'm glad you like it but..." You point at the signature, your blush deepening. "You're not gonna answer that? It's rude to keep a lady waiting."

"I was expecting you to confess directly if you did have feelings for me, this shy side of yours is quite unusual." He chuckles. "I've always found that directness of yours charming, to be honest. My feelings for you... are complex, but if I know one thing about you, it's that you always manage to surprise me." A smirk spreads across his features."

"...So what's your answer?" You ask carefully.

"I'm a bit surprised myself. I've never felt so... connected to someone. If you like me, even as just a friend, then my feelings for you will only increase. I enjoy spending time with you." He takes a long breath. "And... I think I've started liking you... romantically."

You sigh in relief, and start shifting your weight from leg to leg oh archons that was nerve-racking.

"I thought you liked being straightforward. You've been teasing me this entire time, why be nervous all of a sudden?" He says with a smirk.

You glared at his teasing, though without any real heat behind it, you shove him lightly on the arm "Shut up." You mumble.

He chuckles. "You really are adorable, you know that?"

You mock pout and play along. "I'm not adorable!" You speak in the most cutesy tone you can muster. "I am a beast to be reckoned with," You raise your pitch further, "a monster of nature!"

He bursts out laughing. "You couldn't scare a butterfly."

You halt, cutesy voice already gone and a dangerous glimmer in your eyes, you take one step forward towards him, your eyes not leaving his "Funny, you said I had horrible drawing skills yet look how that turned out." You take another step, and with your mouth now next to his ear you whisper darkly. "Do you want to bet?"

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, his heart started racing as he took a step away from you. "...Maybe I shouldn't have said that."

You burst out laughing. "Oh my gosh your face!" You say, happy tears welling up at the corner of your eyes. "I got you good! Pffffft-"

"...You suck."

You laugh harder, letting yourself slide down to the floor like before. "S-sorry, but hey! You're the one who underestimated me first!" You say gasping for air.

"You nearly gave me the equivalent of a heart attack, you little..." He sighs, his expression serious. "...So I suppose this means you like me too?"

"Your laughs die down, and you start regaining your breath, you raise your hand cheekily, motioning for him to help you up "What do you think?"

"...I think you can help yourself." He crosses his arms and looks away from you.

"Oh come on don't be like that!" You say grinning. "Just help me up and I'll give you your answer."

"...Fine." He walks towards you, grabbing your hand as he asks "So what's the verdict?"

Just as he starts pulling however, you bring him down on the ground next to you, and just before he has a chance to protest, you wrap your arms around his neck bringing your faces so close with just a few inches between you.

"...Woah, easy now. You really do have a flare for the dramatic."

He lets out a sigh in defeat, in another life, the empty cavity of his heart would have been thumping at the contact.

"But doesn't it make everything so interesting?" You say, slowly inching closer, your eyes glancing between his eyes and lips.

The Wanderer can barely manage a response, "...Yes. Yes, I suppose it does."

And then, you close the distance between your lips, his eyelids falling shut.

The moment your mouths meet, a feeling of pure euphoria washes over you. You can't help but close your eyes, sinking deeper into the kiss. He pulls you closer and you gladly let him, wanting to experience every possible sensation you could in this moment, your mouths locked together. Your heart races, pumping blood and joy through your body, making you feel like it would burst at any second.

After a long moment, you pull away slowly, already mourning the loss of contact but needing to catch your breath. "Well that was... Nice." You giggle at your own underwhelming response, fully aware the kiss was much more than nice.

"...Nice?" He repeats, looking down at you, his face a bright purple color as he tries to compose himself. "Is that all you have to say?"

"I'm just teasing, you're an annoyingly good kisser Wanderer." This better not raise his ego further.

He tries to act cool and unfazed, but it's useless. "R-really? Are you sure about that? I mean, it was nice, but... it was... Uh."

"Yes I'm sure." You say firmly, rising, and pulling him up with you. "It was perfect."

His eyes narrow as if he didn't quite believe you.

"Yes. It was." You insist , then, back to your usual teasing you say: "Or do you want more compliments oh great and wise Wanderer?"

He groans, covering his face with his hands. "You're going to milk every moment of this, won't you?!"

"But of course! Can you really call yourself my boyfriend if you weren't subjected to my teasing in your every waking moment?"

"Boyfriend?" He looks back up, his expression slightly confused, then "Right... Yes. That's... Gonna take some getting used to."

You sigh dreamily at his cute expression, then throw your arms around him in a hug and sqweel at his cuteness.

He remains still for a few moments, then starts gently stroking your head.

But at some point, you stop and pull away slightly, you don't let go of him however. "Wait! Would Nahida approve of me?"

You manage to catch him off-guard, not expecting you to break the embrace so quickly. "You want her to give us her blessings? Is that what this is about? I think, all things considered, she'd be more than happy to learn that I found someone who appreciates me as much as you do."

"Still, she's basically your mom!" You say, starting to drag him towards the Sanctuary of Surasthana as he squirmed in your hold. "We should pay her a visit. Oh! Maybe we can grab her a gift at the bazaar first!"

He sighs, then stops resisting, and lets you pull him along, knowing there's not a whole lot he can do to stop you. "You really want to involve her in this?" He sighs again."Very well. Let us go."

#genshin Impact #genshin community #genshin #genshin wanderer #wanderer #wanderer genshin impact #(y/n)#fluff #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x reader #x you #x reader #scara

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drowning-in-cacophony · 9 months

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Lacking

Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial Prompt 233: Imperfect Signs

[Summary: a woman gets the sign she asked for... sort of]

As things go – it’s not the best.

In fact, it looks freaking insane. She stares down at the cheap diner toast – too yellow butter, a sad pool of sugary honey dripping off the edge, and the very hastily burnt-in tick mark under it all. It’s giving last minute homework vibes, scribbled down using a friend’s back as a table, plastered underneath a hopeful smile. A drop of orange juice falls from her slightly gaping mouth, left unwiped. When she’d wanted a sign, she meant something a little more regular.

A little more sophisticated, maybe. A note dropped into her bag with swirling writing, a cloud curled in the sky, a road sign with changed writing. Something more expected.

But it does answer the question, even abrupt as it is. It’s easy to understand, simple.. Do I keep going forward, is this the right direction for me, should I even be doing this, and there’s a tick mark. It’s the positive mark on that school paper, telling you go ahead, you’re doing fine. Straightforward encouragement.

She’d dreamt of a little more, of course. Something she could dissect, something that told her a little more about this whole thing. Some idea of the powers behind this all. She knows to keep going forward, that this is what she should be doing, apparently, but still nothing about what awaits her. A tick mark – like a poll, tossed into the ether, no extra details. Maybe that’s on her though, because she’d been lacking on details too. The heels of her palms smacked against the steering wheel, snapping give me a fucking sign, okay? She never made it clear what she wanted, just that she needed the encouragement.

And there’s the tick mark, sitting dark brown among anaemic bread.

Encouragement, as asked.

She stares at it a little more, feeling the pooling of being let down in her stomach, like the honey on the bread. It’s like working on a project for weeks, and only getting a green tick as validation. No extra comments. No actual evidence that someone looked deeper than a surface glance. It’s a bit devastating, honestly. A scrap of cheese as reward for avoiding a trap, a passing crumb to entice her forward. Nothing like the signs she’s read about in books, not as satisfying as gazing to the sky and seeing the clouds rearranged, or spotting that the roads are starting to lead to yes, you, this way!

Still. Someone, somehow, burnt her toast for her. That’s some sort of sign of the power at least.

And it is an answer.

“Everything alright?” A polite, wavering voice asks at her shoulder – the waitress, the notebook clutches in her fingers. Big glasses, a nervous disposition. A minimum wage job would do that to a person, especially one that has such a people-facing vibe. Likely, the waitress noticed the fact that she’s just been staring at her sorry toast with a weird expression, and started to worry about her manager or her tip. Or both.

She lets out a small sigh as the honey starts to make the edge of the toast go a little soggy, the tick mark getting a thin glaze of the cheap butter.

“Yeah,” she answers eventually. “I’ve got what I needed.”

#flash fiction friday #flash fiction #writeblr #short story #word cout: 544 #anna's writing #last flash fic of the year!#enjoyed this one and enjoyed the whole year of writing these <3

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suzuberto · 5 months

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Oh??? oh!!! I didn't expect to be tagged in one of these thingies, specially here!! Ty so much @uttermenace I really like these (as well as random tests. yes I wanna know what type of toast am I) Also I maybe miss them as they were usual on facebook years ago and a fun way to know and connect with ppl idk hdhd

tl;dr is a tag game, and I'll write context so it's long(?

for whoever who wants to answer it, consider yourself tagged! But will tag-- @jabko0 @adarhysenthe @laneybug2904 @mandricardosappreciationclub (you don't need to read it or do it if you don't want to, is oke! just wanted to boop you)

*Blank on bottom for you to copy & paste!

Last song listened to: orchestal song. will insert the link bc is a fcking long name these days I hear spotify playlists with "silly vibes", "punk rock", "celtic/folk" and "orchestal" (also "ambiental" like birds, water, etc), also as I try to concentrate in work that I will get distracted with lyrics, I tend to search instrumentals. also the vibes I search for depend on mood or needs so, yea

Favorite color: light blue probably, specially mixed with warm colors with red as top bc I'm that one of those red & blue mix fan but also pink/ orange/ yellow as sunrise... and maybe light and/or vivid colors in general, as spring! (I have been hiperfixating and jumping on a certain color all my life and it shows mostly on clothes and what things get my attention easier dhdh like not long ago was all light greens. But yeah I tend to like light and vivid colors)

Currently watching: The office USA version. Months ago I firstly rejected it bc I wasn't on the mood of that type of humor (playing with uncomfortable things and frustration) but after watching some recent and older movies and shows that I just knew by name to be well known I gave it a try and I'm having a really good time. also like to spam my friend that watched it before me while I watch it dhdh Ah and today I started watching spy x family. I haven't watched much anime in some months fgdgfd

Spicy/savory/sweet: totally a sweet tooth (specially pies, cookies, tea and infusions... aouughh) but I also like spicy sometimes when feel oke of my stomach. Yes I'm a bit worried to be restricted of sugars by docs so I try to eat and make stuff with no sugar but I still eat some sugary stuff and shdheh can't help it is part of me aaaAa

Relationship status: married mentally since years with my top 1 fictional husband Cú Chulainn from fate series single and aroace 🦐

Current obsession: oh boy I'm a fixation jumper and hoarder, let's see my most recent ones...

in job, trying a project of teaching basic english to adults I know. I needed to pause my art practices because of this fddsf

in games, cult of the lamb game and fanworks are making me very much happy. I'm on pause on playing Baldur's gate 3 but go on and off of it as I savor it since started playing on december and take a lot of fucking time in everything (and I'm playing on the easier mode JDHDU I'm already on act 3 tho, but with 156 hours on first run, yes hello) but I always enjoy fanworks bc ppl make very delicious food I also wanna share my Tav scribbles...

in others, time to time my gremlin mind still overthinks everything I do as money maker potentials and usernames/pen names and I can't make it shut up

also daydreaming of Cú cause my mind randomly made me dream with him on a couple of days ago fgfgd

---------------------- now the blank!

Tagged by: Last song listened to: Favorite color: Currently watching: Spicy/savory/sweet: Relationship status: Current obsession: Tagging:

And a snackie 🍬

#Archive log #My non art #My text #About me #Tag game #suzu is oversharing again #Spotify

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jamestrmtx · 3 years

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The Bebop Blues - [Animal Crossing | Tom Nook x Reader]

[Gender-Neutral Reader | Slow Burn + Tragicomedy]

Summary:

As wonderful as life might be on the island, there's no doubt you both have a past that's worth better kept there.

Nothing good comes from dwelling too much on your regrets, nor does it benefit the progress you've made up until now.

When life gives you lemons, drown them in sugary water and make lemonade.

Chapter One | And They Were Business Partners

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Lights grow dim, an instrumental starts to play, and conversations lower to murmurs as he steps on the stage. His gaze, always droopy, appears far more lidded now. His chest rises and falls at slow intervals, almost matching with the bluesy beat of the song. He grabs the microphone and brings it close to his face, right before it can bump with his snout. Then, he closes his eyes and begins, voice not once faltering as he recites each line with ease. It's hard not to feel awe with how different he seems while singing, though you brush that off to focus more on him. Regardless of his good odds towards success, his knowledge in business, and his penchant for progress, the man was meek with matters beyond those. Still, you try not to judge based solely on that. Not only is it one of the most impolite ways to establish a perspective on someone, but you don't want to create a strict nor one-dimensional view of him in your mind -- and even less, now that you've known him for so long.

The melodies that follow when he ends his song become a blur as you contemplate his choice of music.

You'd heard him mention it being his favourite a long, long time ago -- back when the island had only just managed to have an upgraded Resident Services building and back when there were only two other villagers living here besides you. It's almost half a year after that you're able to hear him sing so frequent and freely, and it leaves you to wonder over what a successful man like him could be troubled with. The both of you were the main, key people responsible for allowing the island to thrive as much as it had to this day, and -- every occasion where he appeared to be in a tight spot -- he relied on you without fear over making himself appear weak or incapable.

So if the island was doing well under his care and he had you around for whenever stuff got too complicated for him alone, then what was he feeling down about?

Or was that song simply one he liked for its melody, and nothing more?

But if so, why did he seem so different when singing it -- far more melancholic in comparison to his usual self?

Either way, you have little time to think about that now -- with the sound of him calling your name from afar. You turn to him and bite back a smile at the sight of him trying to shimmy past the growing crowd. In spite of the sudden chaos, he meets your gaze and gestures for you to follow him off to a less crowded area, farther away from those lining up to sing their heart out for what's left of the night.

His directions lead you to the beach, though the chilly air sends you backtracking in your steps, avoiding the water at all costs; it's about twice as icy as the wind, and the few, stray droplets from each wave reach your face, making you stay back like a cat would do when confronted with a spray bottle.

As often as you enjoyed swimming and doing pretty much a bit of everything around the island, you're not feeling up to it presently. The night's far too cold and dark, and -- though it doesn't snow on the island -- it's more than clear winter's here. You search through your inventory for some warmer, cozier clothing, yet you realize you've nothing but your tools and swimsuit with you. All other items had been stored away early this morning, in order to carry all the materials necessary for your next big project. Had you known karaoke night would last this long and had you known more stuff would be involved after it, you would've prepared yourself accordingly.

"I'm afraid I don't have a coat with me, but…"

Nook approaches your side and stands right beside you, almost brushing shoulders in the process.

"We can stay like this for a moment, if you don't mind." He then excuses himself to retrieve something from his pockets, yet he stays close to you while he does that. When he finds what he's looking for, you see it's a song, but -- unlike Slider's disks -- his has no album cover, title, or any of that sort; only your name can be seen scribbled on it at a first glance. "This…" he mutters, trailing off in his words. "This is for you, (Y/N)." Nook offers it to you and takes his gaze elsewhere once you have the disk secure in your hold. He says nothing else, and -- instead -- waits, though all while simultaneously pretending not to.

When you flip it over, you see it's one of your top three favourite tracks: K.K. Metal, but sung by him.

...Yeah.

Not exactly what you'd expect a mellow guy like him to be capable of singing, yet a persistent curiosity helps you imagine him trying to match his voice and attitude with the wild beat and quick pace of the song.

You thank him, and -- being the small villager that you are -- stand on your tiptoes and offer him a kiss on the cheek.

The man takes a few steps back and keeps his hand pressed right against the spot you've kissed. Bright pink spots his cheeks, but it's not quite like the embarrassed reaction a villager taught you when you just discovered how to display emotions. Rather, he seems to have transcended beyond the realms of the game's possibilities, just enough for a new emotion to be unlocked. You mimic the expression out of pure custom and end up feeling as if you've crammed an entire college textbook into your mind -- likely due to you already having all emotion slots occupied.

Nonetheless, you huff out a breath and fight through the headache; then, you look back at Nook, who's frozen in that same, shocked state.

Now imagine a hamster when it hears something: ears perked, eyes wide, body still and straight, standing on two legs and all that -- but blushing, as well.

That's the emotion he's displaying to you right now.

"Are you okay?" you ask, placing a hand on his shoulder and getting him to look at you. "Do you… Do you need me to call a doctor?"

It takes him a minute, but he eventually snaps out of it.

"It's quite alright," he says, shaking his head. "But… May I, by any chance, return your kiss?"

Though his word choice goes beyond awkward and odd, you smile and nod, replying with, "Sure -- Now, c'mere!"

You tug him by his shirt's collar, stand on your tiptoes again, and bring him closer to you, allowing for him to kiss you back, something proven to be difficult with how long his snout is. Still, he persists and presses a quick one to your cheek. It goes a similar way as to when people wearing eyeglasses try to do the same thing. It's an endearing act from his part regardless, prompting you to tug him in for a hug.

"Happy one-year anniversary, Tom," you say, words murmured. "I'm glad to have met you." A pause follows, though you soon continue with, "It's not everyday people get to have landlords like you -- with no rent deadlines, and… no threats of being kicked out whatsoever, y'know?"

Nook chuckles and replies with, "Happy one-year anniversary, (Y/N)." He then takes a steady breath and lets it out after. "You claim that, and yet you've paid every single debt so far."

"What can I say?" You grin and direct a playful wink at him. "We make great business partners, don't we?"

His ears droop, as does his tail and gaze; it's an abrupt change when being compared to the mood he was in since you both finished with karaoke night. The man seems disappointed, yet you don't think much of it. If something was wrong and he was attempting to hide it, you needed to find a more subtle way to approach him and try to get him to open up more with you.

"...Yes." A sigh leaves him, though it's barely audible and could just as easily be confused with the soft winds of the beach. "Truly so."

Wanting to cheer him up, you settle down on the sand, smile, and extend your hand out to him.

It's cold, but having him nearby helps you with fighting that off. He takes your hand and stays waiting until you pull him to sit next to you. "What's troubling you, Tom?" you ask, brow furrowing. "You know I'm here for you." Your eyes scan his face, looking for anything out of the ordinary in hopes of gaining a hint without having to wait for him to say something.

His eyes squint into a gentle smile, yet the words that follow contrast with it. "I'm afraid this isn't…" Nook hesitates. "This isn't something you can help me with." He looks away for a split second, distracted by a moth fluttering next to a lamppost, who each time gets closer and closer to it. "But even so… Thank you for your concern," he adds, grabbing your hand again and squeezing it tight.

"Of course." You squeeze his back and return his smile. "Anytime, old friend!"

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#tom nook x reader #animal crossing x reader #gender neutral reader #male reader #female reader #romcom #tragicomedy #angst #fluff #slow burn

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wingsofkpop · 4 years

Text

Hiraeth - I.VIII: These Paths We Walk

pairing(s): Hybrid!Im Jaebeom x Reader, Witch!Mark Tuan x Reader, Werewolf!Jackson Wang x Reader, Vampire!Park Jinyoung x Reader, Supernatural!Got7 x Reader

genre: Supernatural!AU, Dark Magic!AU, heavy Angst, light Fluff, eventual Smut

warnings: Mature language, mentions of death and murder, violence, gore and blood, some satanic themes, etc.

word count: 7,1k

synopsis: How far are you willing to go to find out the truth about Moon Dye Bay?…

chapter directory

Necromancy is a form of spiritual divination in which the executioner acts in the summoning of and communication with the lost souls of the dead. Its origins date back to the ancient Greeks, as the word necromancy is composed of Greek terms νεκρός (nekrós), "dead," and μαντεία (manteía), "divination." During the European Middle Ages, necromancy grew to be associated with black magic by traditional witches. As a result, its practice became strictly forbidden due to its disruption in the balance of nature. History recalls only one powerful witch ever held the ability to raise the dead at will—

“Still doing research for that special project?” Your mind snaps back to reality at the sudden inquiry. Tearing your gaze from the textbook, you look up to find none other than your favorite student in front of your desk. Hyunjin offers his usual crooked smile at your newfound attention and raises a questioning eyebrow.

You can’t help but roll your eyes before answering, “You know the point of a study period is to—I don’t know—study? Preferably by yourself?”

He snickers. “I have a question that requires your extensive mastery in the literary arts, Ms. (L/N).”

“I’m sure you do.” You release a heavy sigh, not bothering to voice your annoyance at the use of your surname. Instead, you deliver Hyunjin a shake of your head before gesturing his continuance with a wave of your hand.

“I’m a little confused by the ending of The Grapes of Wrath,” Hyunjin pauses, “okay—a lot confused. I mean, why would Rose of Sharon breastfeed a stranger she literally just met? It’s weird…”

You chuckle at his scrunched expression. “You’re right. It is pretty weird.”

“So why’d she do it?”

“Well, Rose of Sharon knew the stranger was starving to death,” You begin, leaning back in your chair to better hold Hyunjin’s gaze, “so you could say she wanted to give him a second chance.”

“But why? She doesn’t even know him.”

“Maybe not, but if you had the ability to save another person’s life—be it a stranger—wouldn’t you?”

“But even after all her and her family went through, I don’t understand how she was able to find it in herself to do that. Especially after the loss of her baby.”

“Humanity is a complicated, yet beautiful force, Hyunjin.” You hum gently, “Even among all the cruelty, hatred and hopelessness, it still manages to find a way to prevail—that ending is proof that against all odds, humanity will always win.”

“I never thought about it like that…” Hyunjin shakes his head in disbelief, “Thanks, (Y/N)...”

“It’s what I do, kiddo.”

While the student grows silent to scribble down his realizations, you take the time to skim over your own notes—or lack-there-of, that is.

After Youngjae agreed, albeit rather reluctantly, to assist you in your mission to return Jackson Wang to the land of the living, you spent the past few days cornering the bookstore and mausoleum’s supply of resources about raising the dead. But just your luck, every text thus far has proven to be less than helpful. According to the siphoner, necromancy is one of the more rare magical arts that is only practiced by specialized, powerful witches, which, unfortunately, also means there is limited access to such information. Neither you nor Youngjae have been able to find a spell or ritual that can guarantee Jackson’s resurrection without some kind of dire consequence.

Who knew magic could be so complicated?

“You know, you’ve been out for the past week…” You lift your head to meet Hyunjin’s gaze once again. “Is… Is everything okay? I don’t mean to pry, but it’s just so unlike you to miss any classes…”

The typical university student probably wouldn’t give a damn about a missing professor, much less an absent TA. Hyunjin’s visual apparent concern spreads warmth throughout your chest—you are powerless to hold back the small smile that stretches across your lips.

“A couple of my roommate’s friends disappeared out of the blue last week, so I just needed a few days to help her out.” You raise a playful eyebrow, “Don’t tell me you missed me?”

“What? No way.” Hyunjin scoffs, “Though I did have to use Sparknotes for the past few reading assignments and barely passed Wednesday's quiz—” You burst into laughter, reeling your companion into the same fit only seconds later. After a brief moment, Hyunjin manages to collect his composure and finish, “—I am glad everything is okay… and that you’re back.”

You nod with a smile. “I appreciate that.”

Aside from the daily meetings with Youngjae and nightly cry-piles with Sana, the past few days have proven to be quite uneventful. Jackson has not appeared in your bedroom since that first night, and true to your word, you haven’t told Mark about your quest for his revival. God knows what kind of Hell would break loose if that were to happen. You also haven’t visited the Prime residence since the day you caught Jaebeom with his drop dead—mind the pun—gorgeous vampire conquest. You’ve been meaning to call Jinyoung, but between your hours pilfering through useless research texts, comforting your distraught roommate and attempting to track down your M.I.A. best friend, you haven’t quite found the time.

And though you’d never admit it to anyone, you needed some time alone—to think.

A rather obnoxious bout of laughter tears you from your thoughts, which is quickly followed by a scold from Professor Park. In an attempt to find the source, you peer past Hyunjin’s form and the sea of other students to the very back of the classroom where a group of young girls are utilizing the period as social hour. Amongst the familiar faces sits a pretty female student you don’t quite recognize, having never encountered her around campus before.

And although you can barely see her, something about her demeanor seems… off.

“Hyunjin? Who’s that girl back there?”

Hyunjin turns to examine the subject of interest before returning with a shrug, “According to my sister, she’s some exchange student from Taiwan. I haven’t met her, but I think Yeji said her name is Tzuyu.”

“And she transferred here this week?”

He shakes his head. “Actually, today is the first day anyone has seen her.”

You go to inquire further, but the booming call of Professor Park announcing the end of class beats you to it. Hyunjin bids you one final thank you and a goodbye before sprinting off to meet his friends at the classroom exit. It is not until him, Professor Park and the remainder of the students are long out the door do you return to your research. However, the moment you manage to relocate your place, a sugary-sweet voice commands your attention once again:

“If I could bother you for a moment, Ms. (L/N), I need your help…”

“Of course.” You mask your annoyance with as genuine a smile as you can muster and turn your gaze to the student. “What can I do for…” Your smile immediately falters at the sight of the young woman from earlier in front of your desk—only in this instance, you can definitely recognize her…

It’s none other than Miss Aphrodisiac herself from the Project Estate.

She offers a radiant smile, but the feature seems less than friendly.

“Hello again, (Y/N). I don’t believe we properly met during our last meeting… I’m Tzuyu.”

“Yeah, um, I-I wasn’t expecting to see you in my class…” You chuckle nervously, cautiously sliding your notes inside your book before closing the cover. “What… What are you doing here exactly?”

“With how much the student body rants and raves about their newest teaching assistant, how could I pass up the opportunity to see you in action?” Tzuyu elegantly takes a seat on the edge of your desk before running her fingers through her flawless, auburn locks. Something about the dexterity of her fingers sends goosebumps budding across your skin. “Plus, it’s not everyday I meet one of Jaebeom’s… human companions.”

“It’s not like that.” You insist, “Jaebeom and I barely know each other—”

“Ah. Right.” She giggles, “You’re close with the other brother. My mistake.”

You bite your tongue, holding back the snide comment that would likely lead to the dismembering of your head from your body. Instead, you swallow what little remains of your pride, rise from your seat and ask stiffly, “You said you needed help with something?...”

“You’ve read Macbeth, haven’t you?” Filled with both anxiety and confusion, you watch as Tzuyu takes a pencil from the container of writing tools perched on the surface of your desk. She twirls the utensil between delicate fingertips, gazing at it as if it is the most interesting object on the planet. You don’t need your gut to remind you something is most definitely off with her behavior.

“There’s this one piece of advice that Lady Macbeth tells her husband before he goes off to commit murder: ‘Your hand, your tongue: look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under ‘t’... ” She pauses, “Tell me, Ms. (L/N)... What exactly could that mean?”

Your blood runs cold when she fixes her dark gaze on you. No longer interested in the pencil.

You bite the inside of your cheek, attempting to ground the frantic beating of your heart before it literally leaps from your chest and into the palms of your company. Out of instinct, you chance a quick glance at the door—you may not have a mug, but a nine-hundred page, hardcover book to the face might make a pretty good distraction.

“Hm, I suppose you’re more of an expert with prose.” Tzuyu says, lowering the pencil into her lap before hopping to her own feet. “Let’s try a bit of Frankenstein then…”

She begins to stalk toward you, her eyes still locked onto yours like a vice. Your body immediately shuffles backward, attempting to keep as much distance between yours forms as possible. You only get so far—your back meeting the surface of the wall behind you as Tzuyu centers herself a few mere inches away. You can feel her crisp breath on your face as she murmurs:

“‘I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine and rage the likes of which you would not believe. If I cannot satisfy the one, then I will indulge the other’...”

“What are you—”

Before you can finish your thought, a searing pain paints your vision white. The agony spreads through your veins like wildfire, stealing every ounce of oxygen from your lungs and rendering your knees weak. With a trembling hand, you’re able to save your form from buckling completely to the floor—but not before catching a glimpse of the same pencil impaled in the side of your waist.

“Poetry is much more tasteful, in my opinion.” Tzuyu sighs, licking the blood from her nails as she backs away. You want to say something—scream and call her a plethora of less than appropriate names—but your mind is literal mush between the shock and the excruciating pain. You collapse to the floor with a breathy gasp, cupping your bleeding side with your opposite hand.

The vampire saunters toward the exit. Just as she makes it to the doorway, she whirls around to throw one final innocent smile in your direction: “Do us both a favor and stay away from Jaebeom… I wouldn’t want to scar that pretty face.”

With that, she’s completely gone. If it weren’t for the pencil in your midriff and the blood seeping through your clothes, you would have thought you’d dreamt up the entire encounter.

“Shit…” You gasp, attempting to dislodge the wood from your flesh. It doesn’t budge, deeply embedded between what you assume to be your ribcage. A pained wheeze spills from your throat as you reach for your bag, paying little mind to the bloodied prints your fingers leave in the fabric. After numerous attempts and anguished movements, you manage to fish your cell phone from its pocket. Crimson smears across the screen as you pull up the first contact you can think of.

You really should have taken the rest of the week off.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

From his perch behind a tree, Jinyoung silently stalks the movement of a burly stag as it parades across the forest floor. The creature, unknowing of the predator that hunts from a far, approaches a wild berry bush and begins to feast off its bearings—unknowing that its end is fast approaching.

Jinyoung usually does not like to draw out these moments and would have killed the deer by now. Whether it is due to the absence of his physical strength or the tornado of thoughts tearing through his mind, he simply cannot bring himself to end the animal’s life just yet. There’s something so pure about watching the stag go about its existence, he realizes—he must allow its innocence to prevail a little while longer.

It’s been days since his recovery from the huntress’s attack, but he can still sense the weakness lingering in his bones. While Jaebeom’s blood chased away the fever of the wolf venom, it was not enough to regenerate his body to its full power. If he were to do so, he would need human blood… but that can never happen again. Not in this lifetime.

Animal blood keeps him mobile, and that is more than enough.

A loud snap of breaking branches returns Jinyoung to reality in time to watch the stag tear off into the trees. He makes no move to chase after it, not desiring to waste his strength. After one final glance to his escaped meal, Jinyoung turns and greets the approaching figure with a tight frown:

“I already told you, hyung. I have no interest in accompanying you on a hunt into town.”

“You know, it would be a hell of a lot easier than tracking down food out here…” Jaebeom snickers, “Not to mention, one human equals a dozen squirrels.”

“And as I said, I much prefer the squirrels.” Jinyoung meets Jaebeom’s gaze with a heavy sigh, “I am perfectly fine, hyung.”

“You’re a shitty liar.” Jaebeom shakes his head. “You need human blood.”

“What I need is to find a new fare.” Jinyoung pushes off of his perch to traipse deeper into the forest, but the appearance of a hand on his shoulders halts his pace. He allows Jaebeom to maneuver his form back against the trunk of a tree, welcoming the slight relief the support brings to his muscles. He makes sure to keep his expression blank to mask his instability. But like always, Jaebeom sees straight through him.

“You’re weak, Jinyoung…”

“Nothing a nice rabbit can’t fix.”

Jaebeom purses his lips. “You can’t deny it forever. At least try a blood bag—”

“Why did you give me your blood?” Jinyoung interrupts his companion’s lecture, peering at Jaebeom with unwavering, unblinking eyes. “I thought you wished to punish me?”

“I was going to—I mean, I wanted to…” Jinyoung watches Jaebeom very carefully, noting the frivolous nature of his typically cocky features and hidden message behind his gaze. If he knew any better, Jinyoung would actually believe there to be some shred of humanity left behind those dark irises.

“But you couldn’t.” He finishes.

“Don’t think it means you’re off the hook for working with Tuan.” Jaebeom huffs while taking a few paces backward. Jinyoung opens his mouth to respond, but the hybrid’s hushed murmur emerges instead, “(Y/N) came by last week… to see you.”

Jinyoung holds back a smile. “Did she now?... I suppose you told her about your change of heart then.”

Jaebeom remains silent.

“Jaebeom-hyung…” Jinyoung’s eyes flutter shut as an audible exhale blows past his lips, “You need to tell her.”

“It won’t change anything.” Jaebeom says with a frown, “She made it very clear that she already hates me.”

“(Y/N) is much different than others, hyung—”

“What do I care anyway?” The hybrid tsks, his sullen expression transitioning into one of indifference. “She can hate me as much as she wants. I don’t give a shit.”

“Hyung, please—”

The shrill ring of a cell phone introduces a bout of silence. Jinyoung has never been so annoyed by modern technology since now, grabbing his phone with a less than pleased sigh. He eyes Jaebeom while lifting the device to his ear, wordlessly communicating that the conversation is far from over.

“Hello?”

“Jinyoung?... H-Hey, it’s me.”

“(Y/N)?” Jinyoung’s annoyance completely dissipates at the sound of your quivering voice. He notices how Jaebeom also reacts to your audible presence through the stiffening of his broad shoulders. He shakes it off as unease from your previous encounter and focuses back onto you, “Are… you alright? You seem a bit stressed.”

“Yeah, you can c-call it that…” Your inhale picks up over the line, and Jinyoung cannot help but grow concerned by its unusual heaviness. “You are not going to believe the shitty day I’ve had.”

“What happened?”

“Well, the barista at my campus cafe accidentally made my usual decaf, my boss is seeking revenge for my time off through hundreds of ungraded essays… and I was stabbed… with a pencil.”

Jinyoung’s eyebrows furrow. “I apologize, but I don’t think I understand…”

“Long story short, Jaebeom’s scary, yet incredibly sexy girlfriend paid me a visit and literally stabbed me with a fucking pencil—” Your explanation cuts out into a yelp, which is followed by an array of stuttered curses, “And it—shit—hurts like hell.”

“I’m on my way right now” Jinyoung, heart racing and head spinning, forces himself to his feet and hurries back toward the manor—Jaebeom hightailing close behind, having picked up the entire conversation.

Before Jinyoung can inquire more about your condition, Jaebeom snatches the phone from his grasp and lifts it to his own, “Where did she stab you?”

“Jaebeom?... My-My side… The pencil is wedged between my ribs, I can’t get it out…”

“Don’t worry about removing it. Just try to control the bleeding as best you can.” Jaebeom explains, “Jinyoung and I will be there soon.”

“Wait! Why are you—” Your voice cuts out as Jaebeom ends the call. Jinyoung notices the whiteness of the hybrid’s knuckles as he silently returns his phone. If it were any other situation, Jinyoung would have brought up their chat from earlier, but your wellbeing is on the line. He delivers his companion a dark glare. To his surprise though, Jaebeom’s expression mirrors that of pure, unadulterated anger.

Jinyoung pinches the bridge of his nose before releasing a sigh, “Do I even wish to know why your mistress attacked (Y/N)?”

“I’d like to know too,” Jaebeom scoffs, running a hand through his jet black locks, “considering I told her that (Y/N) was off limits.”

“You find out then.” Jinyoung hisses, “Or I will deal with her myself, and I won’t be as kind.”

“Oh, trust me.” Jinyoung can practically sense the murderous lust spilling from Jaebeom’s pitch black irises—far from the light of humanity. “Kindness is the last thing on my list right now, Jinyoungie.”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“—and then she just acts all innocent! As if she did absolutely nothing wrong! I mean, what kind of self-serving, sadistic bitch does she think she is—Mark? Are you there?”

“Huh?” Mark flutters his eyes open at the sound of his name. He blinks at his surroundings in confusion, still dazed from his abrupt wake-up call, before remembering his phone and the person currently speaking on the line:

“Mark? Don’t tell me I put you to sleep?”

“Nope, nope. I’m here.” Mark replies hurriedly, wiping the remnants of his nap from his eyes. “Luna’s a complete and total bitch, I got you.”

Lia sighs, “Yuna, Mark. Not Luna.”

With a silent yawn, he lifts his arms over his head and expels the kinks from his shoulders. Once his muscles are taunt and stretched, Mark releases a heavy exhale and murmurs, “I’m sorry, Lia. It’s just… been a long week.”

“I get it, Mark.” She hums softly, “But I wish you wouldn’t stress so much about this. Minho made his choice, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“I don’t believe that.” Mark rises from his chair before pacing across the room to the mausoleum’s lone window. He pulls the curtain aside, peering out at the vacant hills of the graveyard. “If he would just talk to me, then I’m sure we could figure something out.”

Hundreds of phone calls later, and he still hasn’t spoken with Minho since the night he claimed to be leaving the coven. No one has. Not even Jisung. And Mark can’t figure out what’s bothering him more: the fact that Minho won’t pick up his phone, or that you have been purposely avoiding him for the last week.

He’s trying to give both you and the young witch time—truly—but Mark can’t help but feel as if something is off.

“Minho needs to figure out what he wants himself.” He forces himself away from the window, receding across the room to lean against the lectern as Lia goes on, “You can’t be there to hold his hand every time he goes through one of his moods. It’s not good for him or for you.”

“What am I supposed to do then?”

“Nothing, Mark. You do nothing.”

Mark shakes his head, “You know I can’t do that.”

“Just give Minho some more time to get it together.” Lia says, “He’ll come around eventually.”

“I hope so.” Mark goes to grab his coffee mug from a nearby table, but accidentally knocks his elbow against the corner of the lectern. A mass of papers and books slide from its surface, crashing to the floor in a rather vocal descent. He releases a quiet curse, tucking his phone against his shoulder before lowering to the floor to begin tidying the mess.

…How long does he have to wait until you come around?

Lia continues to speak as he gathers the escaped pages, “Have you talked to Yugyeom lately? I heard that one of their wolves just up and disappeared.”

“Yeah. That kid, Changbin.” He says, “Gyeom thinks he probably took off after our fight with the huntress. Remind you of someone?”

“In this town? A lot of someones.”

Mark goes to respond, but the title of a particular document clears the thoughts from his mind. Pushing aside a couple other pages, he grabs the flimsy packet before raising it into better view. At first, Mark is confused, unsure why this type of reference would be out and about. But as he surveys the other fallen objects, his confusion gradually shifts to realization…

Then rage.

He doesn’t bother to look up as the door opens, nor does he spare the puzzled newcomer a glance. Still clutching the document, Mark rises to his feet and takes the phone from his shoulder with his free hand. He pays his companion no mind as he quietly murmurs:

“Do you mind if I call you later?”

“Not at all. Just try to think about what I said.”

Mark bids a final farewell to Lia before disconnecting the line. He takes a moment to drag a hand down his face before turning to a wide-eyed Youngjae. As soon as Mark raises the document into view, his expression immediately shifts to a panic.

“So…” Mark tilts his head with a tight frown, “You want to explain why the hell you’re looking up resurrection spells?...”

Youngjae shakes his head, “Hyung—”

“Explanation, Youngjae.” Mark watches the siphoner’s face shift through a rainbow of emotions. From terror, to anxiety, to dread, before finally settling on guilt. Keeping his gaze to the floor, Youngjae eventually delivers a shrug and whispers:

“...To try to bring Jackson back.”

Mark’s heart practically splits open.

He stares at the younger witch with incredulous eyes. “Are you fucking stupid, Youngjae!?”

“It looks bad, I know—” Youngjae hurries forward to stand in front of Mark and lifts his hand in good faith, “—but I’ve been doing a lot of research and experimenting with a couple spells and I really think that we can—”

“You aren’t thinking shit.” Mark spits, rounding toward the siphoner until their noses are a mere inch apart. “We don’t screw around with necromancy, Youngjae… It’s dark magic.”

“We just have to find the right spell! (Y/N) and I are searching—”

“(Y/N)? What does (Y/N) have to do with this?”

Youngjae immediately closes his mouth, his eyes growing glassy in the evening light.

It takes a second for the puzzle pieces to fit together—your inquiries about Jackson, Youngjae’s daily trips to the bookstore, your evasion—but once the realization hits, Mark feels his entire body go numb.

Youngjae rushes forward to grab Mark’s arm, “Hyung, I’m so, so sorry! (Y/N) thought it would be better not to tell you, so I just—”

Mark shrugs his hand away, refusing to meet Youngjae’s pleading gaze. “Get out.”

“Just let me explain—”

“Get the fuck out!” A loud crash echoes throughout the mausoleum as Mark flings his mug across the room, causing the object to meet the opposite wall before shattering to a million tiny pieces. Youngjae doesn’t persist, grabbing his bag and beelining straight out the door. Mark pushes the sounds of the younger’s sobs from his mind as he goes, unable to see past the anger boiling inside his body. But even against all the rage, a sense of sadness remains at the forefront of his mind.

His best friend betrayed him—again.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“You find and take care of (Y/N).” Jaebeom commands, slamming his car door shut with a little more force than necessary. Then again, he can’t seem to bring himself to care above the red-hot fury coursing through his veins like venom. He ignores the curious stares of a nearby group of female students and proceeds to move around the car, “I’ll catch up with you later.”

“And where exactly are you going?” Jaebeom bites back a glare as Jinyoung halts his movements. His entire body thrums, as if physically yearning for vengeance, but he masks his temper with a sharp inhale and a promise to release his frustrations out later.

He nods at his companion, “I’m going to do what I should have done before.”

Jinyoung merely stares at him for a moment, and Jaebeom can only hope he can’t see past the bloodlust in his gaze. Fortunately, Jinyoung doesn’t question him further. He releases Jaebeom’s shoulder and delivers one final nod before turning in the direction of what both can only assume is your classroom. Jaebeom allows himself a moment to watch Jinyoung—his noble brother—sprint off to save the day—to save you. Again.

Jaebeom swallows the bitterness accumulating in his chest and heads in his own direction. It won’t be hard to track her. He can already smell her Chanel perfume—she’s close by, he realizes.

She wants him to find her.

Sure enough, Jaebeom recognizes her silken auburn hair and Louis Vuitton coat beside a towering oak tree, staring down at her phone. He doesn’t bother to check if those students are still watching him and speeds over to his target’s perch. Even when he’s a mere few inches away, she continues to mindlessly scroll through her phone. Jaebeom’s anger grows when he notices the amused smirk etched across her pink lips.

“It’s about time you showed up.” Tzuyu says, “You know how much I hate to wait.”

“Give me one good reason not to rip your fucking head off right now.”

“Not even a ‘hello’?”

Jaebeom growls, “You think this is a game?”

“Perhaps.” She raises her calm gaze to his own before offering a sultry smile. “Beautiful evening, isn’t it?”

Her flirtations only add fuel to the outrage raging through his body. He speeds forward again, snatches her wrists and slams her smaller figure against the trunk of the tree behind them. Tzuyu winces at his aggressive movements, but Jaebeom feels no sympathy. Your trembling voice and pained breathing echoes in his ears like a siren, tempting him closer to the point of no return.

It would be so easy to plunge his hand into her chest, to squeeze her heart until it's nothing but bloody ash. Or maybe he should tear her limbs off one by one, make her suffer until she’s begging him to end her—

“You really do care about her, don’t you?” Jaebeom awakens from his imaginary rampage at the question. Her usual smirk is no longer along her face, but instead replaced with a thoughtful frown.

He growls, pressing her wrists further into the bark of the tree. “I told you to stay away from her. You said you wouldn’t touch her.”

“I never thought I’d see the day the big, bad hybrid, Im Jaebeom falls for a human.”

“Shut the fuck up.” His tone is quiet—murderous. “I’ll kill you.”

“No. You won’t.”

“Yes. I will.”

“No, Jaebeom.” She shakes her head with a sigh, “If you kill me, (Y/N) will never forgive you.”

As if she had taken a red hot iron and plunged it through his heart, Jaebeom lets go of the vampire and stumbles backward. He barely catches himself before he collapses to the ground, and even then, his legs feel like they’ll give out at any moment.

Tzuyu, still leaning against the tree, tilts her head with a hum, “She’s a good one, Beom. I feel it… that aura that carries around her.”

“Stop it—”

“And it’s because she’s good that she’ll never belong to you.” She murmurs, “But you already know that… don’t you?”

“You’re fucking sick.” Jaebeom hisses.

To his surprise, Tzuyu’s expression softens. “I’m sorry, Jaebeom.”

There’s too many emotions swirling through his mind. He can’t think—can’t breathe. His chest feels like it’s caving in on itself, and his hands won’t stop shaking. He can’t get your face out of his head—your beautiful eyes looking at him with such betrayal and hatred. It hurts. It hurts so much. Why won’t his hands stop fucking shaking? It’s too much. It’s all too much—

He can’t help it… He has to turn it off.

A switch flips inside of his soul, immediately locking out every ounce of pain. His lungs inhale each new breath smoothly, and his limbs remain as still as a cat. With a clear head, Jaebeom returns his eyes to Tzuyu, who is still gazing at him with such tenderness and understanding. For a moment, the warmth of her gaze reminds him of you.

Tzuyu cautiously takes a step forward, “Jaebeom…?”

“You’re right.” He nods, “I’m not gonna kill you.”

“What are you—ah!” Her inquiry elevates into a scream as Jaebeom whirls forward and sinks his teeth into her shoulder. His fangs plunge through the fabric of her expensive coat before piercing deep into her flesh. She attempts to struggle, but he is stronger… and the damage has already been done.

He pulls away, licking the blood from his lips as Tzuyu collapses to the ground. She clutches her wounded shoulder, staring up at him with eyes of betrayal, confusion and fright.

“You… You bit me.”

Jaebeom smirks, “I suggest you spend the next day or so wisely… it’s going to be your last.”

Tzuyu’s expression turns rabid. She scrambles to her feet before sneering at the hybrid, “The sooner you learn to accept your fate, Jaebeom, the sooner you’ll find peace—”

“Meh. Fate’s overrated.”

“Just remember this—” The vampire growls, “—after you turned me, you murdered the love of my life… at least I had the kindness to keep yours alive.”

He snickers, turning to leave. However, just before he takes a step, Jaebeom throws one final comment over his shoulder, “Thanks for all the sex.”

With that, Jaebeom smirks to himself and saunters off into the glow of the setting sun.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Jinyoung rushes down the hallway, careful not to speed for fear of running into a professor or student working after hours. The fragrance of your blood builds with each step, and he can’t help but grow more concerned with that knowledge. At the very least, he can still hear the faint beating of your heart.

He follows the scent past a couple corners and down another long corridor to a massive, dim lecture room. Fearing the worst, Jinyoung quickly steps through the doorway before immediately spotting your incapacitated form through the darkness propped up against the opposite wall. He doesn’t hesitate to speed across the room and kneel in front of you. You’re unconscious, he realizes, but breathing—that’s enough to lift the heavy weight from his chest.

“(Y/N)?” He calls gently, lifting his hands to cradle your face in his palms. “Come back to me, my dear… Please.”

“Jinyoung?...” He’s never been more grateful to hear the sound of his name until now. Your eyes flutter open and dart around the area before drowsily settling on Jinyoung. The vampire in question breathes a sigh of relief, caressing the apple of your cheek with his thumb.

“There you are.” He murmurs, “How do you feel?”

“Like I was stabbed…” You raise an eyebrow before peering down at the pencil protruding from your abdomen, “Well, would you look at that.”

Jinyoung holds back a smile at your sarcasm, appreciating that even wounded, you still manage to bear your usual fiery charm. His own eyes turn down to the object jabbed within your waist. He carefully analyzes the damage, determining the best possible solution to its extraction. As you said on the call, the pencil itself is trapped inside your ribcage. Jinyoung will have to be careful not to accidentally fracture your bones.

He bites the inside of his cheek before returning his attention back to you. “I need to remove it, but it’s going to be painful. Very painful.”

You roll your eyes, “It will also hurt a lot less when it’s out. I can handle it.”

“I know you can.”

Jinyoung keeps his gaze connected to yours as he wraps his fingers around the wood of the pencil, taking extra care not to brush against the swollen skin of the lesion. Your expression remains fatigued, yet indifferent during his preparation. He waits for your nod before he continues.

In order to prevent as much further damage and to make it as painless as possible, Jinyoung removes the pencil as quickly as he can. Your furrowed brow and teary eyes slice at his soul, but he doesn’t stop until the object is completely taken out. Once it's free, Jinyoung tosses the pencil into a nearby trash can, pulls the sweater from his body and utilizes the garment to cover your slightly bleeding wound. He ignores the crimson of your blood staining his fingers, instead lifting his clean arm to his mouth before biting down.

“What… are you doing?”

“My blood will heal you.” Jinyoung answers, offering forth his bloody wrist. “It’s how I saved you after your assault in the alleyway.”

“If I die with your blood in my system, won’t I become a vampire?”

“You aren’t going to die.”

You shake your head, pushing away his wrist. “Thanks for the offer, but I’d rather not risk anything.”

“At least allow me to bring you to the hospital then.” He insists, “You’ve lost quite enough blood for one day.”

Jinyoung curses at the mischievous smirk that spreads along your lips. “You have got to stop saving my life.”

“Stop putting yourself in danger, and there would be no need for me to.”

“Last I checked, I had no idea Vampire Victoria Secret was gonna show up and stab me with a fucking writing utensil.” You snort, gesturing over to your desk, “Grab my stuff before we go, please.”

Just as you requested, Jinyoung goes about gathering your laptop and assorted belongings before sliding them into your bag. One book, however, catches his attention. For a moment, he pauses to stare at the title, then flips open the cover. His mouth runs dry when he discovers numerous pages of notes in your handwriting.

Jinyoung closes the book before turning back to you, who is struggling to climb to your feet. He moves to help you, stabilizing your body against the wall while asking, “Why are you researching necromancy?”

“It’s a long story.” You inhale deeply, “But to keep it short… Youngjae and I are going to try to resurrect Jackson Wang.”

At the mention of the alpha werewolf, Jinyoung’s muscles grow stiff. He stares at your face, attempting to read the stars in your dreary irises. After what seems like a long moment of silence, he eventually speaks, albeit quietly, “You understand resurrecting someone from the dead is no simple task… Why would you even attempt such a thing?”

Your expression softens. “Because Jackson didn’t deserve to die, Jinyoung. The pack lost their leader—Mark lost his best friend.”

“Resurrection is a dangerous craft, (Y/N).”

“Not if we find the right spell.” You argue, throwing your bag over your shoulder with a sharp inhale. “I know it sounds bat-shit crazy, but I have to try, Jinyoung. For Jackson and for Mark.”

Jinyoung inhales a heavy gust, before releasing an even heavier breath. He curses himself at being so affected by the hope in your eyes. Your determination is too alluring—you are too alluring.

“I have a collection of grimoires kept by a coven of Dutch witches who specialized in necromancy back in the 15th century.” He finally says, “I will gift them to you as long as you grant me one request.”

Your eyes immediately brighten. “Of course. What do you need me to do?”

Jinyoung grabs your hands. “I want you to forgive my brother.”

“Jinyoung—“

“After you left, Jaebeom fed me his blood.” He explains, “He cured the werewolf venom, so I wouldn’t have to suffer.”

Your face first contorts to confusion, then to Jinyoung’s surprise, guilt. “He didn’t tell me…”

“As I told you, Jaebeom has a good heart.” His lips upturn into a sad smile, “He just… has difficulty revealing that side of himself to others.”

With that, Jinyoung carefully gathers your body into his arms. He manages to cover your soiled clothes with your jacket before heading for the door.

“It is your choice. I will give you the grimoires no matter what you decide.”

Jinyoung’s heart leaps when your head collapses against his chest, right over where his heart proceeds to race. Judging by your silence, he expects your mind to have descended into unconsciousness once more, but is pleasantly surprised when your slurred voice reaches his ears, “Hey, Jinyoung?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks for saving me. Again.”

Jinyoung smiles, “It was my pleasure, (Y/N).”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“Such a fucking idiot!...” Youngjae hisses, stomping his way past gravestones and monuments through the light of the setting sun. Usually, he would stop to appreciate such a beautiful moment in nature, but his mind is too preoccupied with thoughts of remorse and anger.

Youngjae knew better than to keep something like this from Mark. His heart immediately drops when he thinks back to the older witch’s furious outburst—Youngjae hasn’t seen him that angry in a long time. Not since Jackson was alive.

He shakes the thought from mind. He should have never agreed to your idea in the first place. Jackson Wang is dead. And he can’t be brought back. End of story.

A faint murmur of voices awakens Youngjae from his self-loathing. He hadn’t realized how deep he has traveled into the forest until now, so deep that he’s very close to the shore of the bay. His curiosity expands when he notices a strange light emitting from behind a group of closely placed trees. Against his better judgement, Youngjae decides to investigate.

The nearer he approaches the site, the louder the voices grow. With a closer view, Youngjae can barely make out two figures conversing in front of a large bonfire. Due to the shadows of tree cover, he can’t recognize their faces, but something about their voices seems familiar to him…

“You’re sure this is going to work?”

“I’ve been planning this for years. There’s no way it won’t.”

“Doesn’t this spell need a crazy amount of power?”

“There will be a blood moon tomorrow night.” Youngjae watches as one of the figures retreats to the opposite side of the fire. If he is a bit closer, he might be able to catch a glimpse of his face. “I will have more than enough power to complete the transformation.”

“And it won’t kill me? The transformation?”

“You sound like you’re having second thoughts…”

“I’m not!” The second figure insists, “The Primes deserve to pay for what they’ve done.”

“And pay they will.” Youngjae’s blood runs cold as he finally gains sight of one of the figures. “The Primes and Mark Tuan.”

“Holy shit—” Youngjae moves to make a mad dash back through the forest, but just as he takes a step backwards, his foot catches a large divot in the earth. He crashes to the ground with a faint yelp, cursing the new ache in his ankle. Panic skyrockets through his veins at the sound of approaching footsteps. Even against the slight pain, Youngjae manages to force himself to his feet, ready to make a break for it, but a broad chest halts his movements.

Youngjae’s heart stops when he meets the gaze of Changbin, the temperamental omega from the werewolf pack.

He smirks, “Your mother ever tell you it’s rude to eavesdrop?”

Youngjae hisses, “Screw you.”

Changbin remains unbothered. “What should we do with him?”

“Well… we can’t have him warning anyone of our plans.” Minho comes into view, wearing a similar smirk to that of the werewolf. “And besides, he might turn out to be pretty useful to us.”

“Why are you doing this!?” Youngjae demands as Changbin shoves him back to the ground. “Are you that desperate for revenge that you’d actually kill Mark-hyung!?”

Minho shakes his head, “I’m not gonna kill him. That special gift is reserved for the Primes.” He chuckles, before lifting his shoulders in a shrug. “I’m just gonna take back what I rightfully deserve…”

Youngjae sneers at the witch, “You’re a fucking traitor! A sick, selfish—”

The siphoner immediately grows silent when Changbin lands a harsh hit against his cheek. At the heavy impact, Youngjae goes flying to the earth and doesn’t rise again.

Changbin glances at Minho, “You sure about all this?”

Minho only smirks.

“I’m dead sure.”

53 notes · View notes

wallwriterstuff · 4 years

Note

If you're available I would love to see a Twilight request! The reader has a one or two year old child. She falls asleep with the child in a nearby playpen napping as well. Edward, Jacob or Emmett(Or even the Cullen family returning home from a hunt) arrive and find the child awake, out of their playpen, face covered with marker marks and in the process of coloring sleeping mom's legs. Thank you so much in advance!💖💖

So this took a while because I really struggled to think of a way to write this at first, but I finally got an idea I was happy with because it combines a cute request with some quality Emmett and Rosalie fluff! I hope you enjoy it chickadee :D

Dream A Little Dream

Words: 2756

Warnings: None, just a simple bit of fluff!

Summary: Emmett needs a reprieve from Rosalie’s temper tantrum, so he goes to check on a DIY project, only to find someone else is living their dream.

“C’mon Rose, talk to me, just tell me-“

“Get out Emmett!”

The door had slammed between them before he could dare say another word, but Emmett was nothing if not persistent. He had spent 66 years married to the woman after all and if he had learned anything from that experience, it was that Rosalie’s temperament was as precarious as an unweighted seesaw - he was confident she’d be cuddling him by tonight.

“Babe.” He rapped his knuckles against the door to the garage but the only reply he received was the loud and sudden blast of a bassline from the CD player. His eyes rolled and he puffed out his cheeks, exhaling in a huff and turning away from the garage to leave his wife to cool off. Edward remained seated at the piano, grinning down at the keys while his fingers diligently moved across the ivory keys.

“No, I have no idea what’s wrong with her.” His voice drifted through from the music room, carrying on the sweet notes of the song he’d composed. He hadn’t played for quite a while but it was a nice, soothing change to listen to the melody he plunked out, Alice’s sugary soprano harmonising beautifully with the key he played in. Emmett scowled in his general direction, moving through the house towards the front door.

“Where are you going?” Carlisle’s voice made him stop and turn, his hand on the door handle.

“Out. Rose needs space.” He answered. Carlisle’s brow furrowed, his expression troubled. Emmett couldn’t quite understand it himself. He had never really seen the downsides to vampirism, not when it had gifted him an eternity with his very own angel, not when it came with the added perks of agility and strength and speed he could only have ever dreamed of in his human days. He didn’t have it in to lament for his soul or whatever the rest of them seemed to do. They were vampires, and vampires drank blood – accidents were inevitable. So what if the Swan girl fell prey to Edward’s temptations? They moved on and returned in a few decades when the memory of her had faded, as they had done before and would no doubt do again.

It really wasn’t rocket science! They all knew the laws and neither option was a particularly bad one to him. Either Edward got a good meal, or he had a chance at finding his epic love, his Rosalie, and he might stop brooding for the first time in over a century. Rosalie’s desire to kill the girl was understandable but so was Edward’s urge to protect her, but Emmett didn’t need to be Alice to know there was no future in all the realms of probability that could ever exist where Bella Swan would grow old and grey. Isabella was destined to die one way or another.

“Be safe.” Carlisle’s words made him snort, a smug grin crossing his lips as he opened the door.

“Me be safe? I’m the most dangerous thing out there.” He quipped. Emmett left without looking back. The forest flew past him in what should have been a blur of greens and murky browns, but his eyes saw every detail. Each crack in the bark, the dew glistening on cobwebs, the smallest of insects scuttling up the stems of leaves…it was all a gift to him. He would kill for Rose to see the beauty in it all as he did but she never would. Rose had had all her dreams taken from her by Carlisle long ago, and she was forever going to be bitterly frozen, trapped in her own cycle of self-loathing. He’d burn the world if it put the faintest smile on her face; had taken her to the most incredible places with the most astounding views, bought jewellery so expensive it made even the richest men shudder in disgust at his actions. The one thing that would make his love truly happy was the one thing he could never give her, but he had been thinking of ways to at least soften the heartache.

There was a house (a small ramshackle thing a few miles out from their own sleek residence) that he’d visited once or twice. He’d taken photos and done some minor fixing up of the place, making sure the roof no longer leaked, that the walls were weather-proof and so on. Emmett had laid floors, plastered walls…he’d made the small house viable once more and the only thing he had yet to do was take down a portioning wall between what he envisioned would be the kitchen and lounge space. It would be his anniversary gift to Rosalie, a place she could truly make her own, where she could build her own home. There may not be little feet pattering on the wooden floors, but he could give her two out of three couldn’t he? Renew their vows so they were confirmed husband and wife once more, help build her a home…

He slowed when he neared the site, his nose twitching. Emmett inhaled deeply, an odd mix of smells drifting up his nose. He didn’t remember peonies, and…was that lavender? Emmett approached his little project cautiously, straining all his senses to read his environment, predatorial instincts rising to the surface. A heartbeat, odd rhythm…no, two heartbeats? One slower, one faster, neither the same sort of pace or rhythm as any animal roaming the woods. Humans then? Emmett frowned deeply, struggling to understand why hikers would come all the way out here as he picked his way over the tree roots trying to trip him up, hand dragging over moss covered bark.

A billow of white was the first thing he saw, a sheet in the light breeze. It fluttered, surrounded by bright coloured clothes much too small to be adult sizes, and damp towels. There had been a brief moment of sun this morning but Emmett still had to scoff. Whoever had stolen his project from him was clearly no native to Forks or they’d have known better than to hang their laundry on the line at the slightest bit of sun. Sunshine rarely lasted in Forks. Emmett paused, looking at the fence now enclosing the house he had transformed with his own bare hands. He definitely hadn’t put that up, nor did he recall painting a fence bright green. He hadn’t installed a laundry line either but someone had driven that stake into the ground, the line coming from some sort of contraption nailed into the exterior of the house.

Someone was definitely living in his DIY project, and he was not-

“Shhhhh!”

Emmett was paralysed briefly by the little giggle that followed. It was a soft sound, full of innocence he could never recall having, and it came attached to the sound of scratching and squeaking. His brows pulled low over golden irises, his body moving of its own accord. It had to be a child, but who would leave a child alone in front of their house? Was it even supervised? His curiosity had piqued and though he wanted to be frustrated he just couldn’t be. Maybe Rose wouldn’t ever get to live in this house with him but someone else had clearly made it their home, someone who had achieved the dream Rose had always wanted. He wasn’t quite sure how he had managed it but he had to sigh, because only he could attempt to resolve his wife’s bitter disposition and end up adding to it instead.

He didn’t recognise her. From the exterior alone Emmett could tell that in the few weeks it had been since he’d last visited this place, she’d put a lot of effort into making the house a home. The outside had a fresh lick of paint, the windows clean and windowpanes a freshly painted grey, the front door a bright green to match the fence surrounding the house. A wooden picnic table had been added just in front of the kitchen window, and she was sat folded over with her head resting on her arms, eyes closed and skin peppered with goosebumps. Stray wisps of hair blew about her face as his eyes tracked down her figure, noting the gentle, even breathing and the way her eyes twitched about under their lids in her sleep. Beneath the picnic table was the source of the musical laughter.

Emmett crouched, forearms resting on his knees and lips curling into a small smirk as he watched a curly haired little boy press a marker pen to her leg, scribbling a design into her skin. She didn’t even appear close to waking, but the temperature had dropped and clearly the little boy had escaped from the playpen across from the picnic table, the door open and the locking mechanism snapped, paper strewn about the garden by the breeze. Emmett could see the dirt under her fingernails as he got closer, a pair of gardening gloves on her opposite side. She’d clearly done her laundry and a bit of gardening while the sun was out, leaving her son to play in his playpen, but the little boy had seen an opportunity once she’d fallen asleep and took it.

He had the cutest little dimples when he smiled, green eyes shining bright with mischief. Emmett chuckled lowly, zipping about the garden to clean up the papers he’d spotted before approaching the picnic table and clearing his throat.

“Excuse me, miss? Miss?” he called. Her eyes fluttered open, confusion evident in them for a second before she jumped, straightening in her seat and watching him with wary eyes. Emmett watched her glance to the playpen, her eyes widening. He could hear the way her heartbeat leapt in her chest, the panic stricken expression she wore telling.

“Oh my – no no no –“

“Erm Miss? Don’t panic, he’s under the table.” Emmett smiled, flashing his own dimples in an effort to calm her. He was a naturally unnerving being after all and most humans tended to be either hopelessly attracted to him or deathly afraid – there wasn’t really an in between. She whipped her legs out from under the picnic table, moving so swiftly Emmett was left in awe. She very quickly scooped her son out form under the table and swung him onto her hip, cradling him close and closing her eyes. Her heartbeat began to calm, her breathing growing less rapid now she knew where her boy was.

“Oh god, thank you. I…I guess I fell asleep, the weather was a lot nicer earlier,” She shivered a bit, hand cradling the back of her sons head until he wriggled in her grip. “Not now baby just – really? Oh Damian!” she groaned exasperatedly. Emmett watched amusedly as she licked her thumb and rubbed furiously at his cheek.

“No Mama! No!” the boy cried, squirming in her grip. His face was covered in marker pen, a mixture of blacks and blues and pinks all swirling over his cheeks and down his nose. Emmett couldn’t help but chuckle.

“He’s a real mischief maker huh? He got your leg to.” He informed her. She looked down to her leg with another soft groan, her cheeks turning pink.

“Sounds about right. Have you ever tried to renovate with children?” she questioned, shaking her head. Emmett shook his head, his eyes stuck on the little boy. He shared his mother’s dark hair though not her eyes. Emmett wanted to be upset his plans for Rose’s anniversary surprise had fallen through, but he had been stupid enough to not check the market for this property and it had gone to someone who clearly needed it, though the property was fairly out of the way and an odd choice for a young woman and her child. She seemed intent on making it somewhere nice to live for them both though, and for that he couldn’t fault her.

“Never had any of my own, but your boy sure is a handsome guy. I did renovate this place though, I’m glad it went to someone who needed it.” He admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. Her eyes widened, the surprise in them obvious.

“Oh! It was you! The real estate agent said they had no clue who had started the renovation’s, but it didn’t stop them selling it to me…we didn’t know it was taken.” She bit her lip, hoisting her son higher up on her hip. Damian was still wriggling slightly, looking up at Emmett with wide, curious eyes. It was clear what she was worrying about it, but Emmett shook his head, hands held up before her.

“It’s yours, really, me and my wife live nearby, this was a second property we didn’t really need. It wasn’t like I checked it was for sale or anything either, you won it fair and square.” He promised. The relief was palpable in her eyes as her son squirmed again. She set him down, hand running through his curls briefly before he darted back into the house. She watched him go with a small smile.

“Well I’d be happy to give you the tour of the place, if you like? Show you what I’ve done with it Mr….”

“Cullen, Emmett Cullen.” He introduced himself with a nod, knowing his frigid skin would put her off if he dared shake her hand, and he didn’t want to put her off. Emmett’s brain was spinning a hundred miles an hour, and he was starting to form a plan. Rose might not get to live in the house, but she could spend time perhaps with the one thing she wanted more than anything. Her smile brightened.

“Y/N L/N. Maybe if you give us a little time to clean up first you could drop by later? Neighbours seem rare out here, it’ll be nice to know someone.” She admitted, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Emmett tilted his head slightly, glancing up at the house.

“Yeah. Yeah I er, would you mind if I bought my wife to? She had plans for this place, think she’ll enjoy seeing how you designed it for yourselves.” He said. She didn’t hesitate to nod and he tried his best not to feel too pleased with himself.

“Of course!” she agreed, and with a time organised between them Emmett sped off home to barrel his way into the garage. Rose was stuck beneath a car still, her BMW to be precise, though Emmett could never fathom what exactly she found to tune up on that thing – he was sure she spent more time under the car than under him. When she didn’t respond to his tapping on the hood, he pulled on her legs till she wheeled out, her expression sour and a smudge of grease across her cheek.

“Emmett.” She huffed. Emmett grinned down at her, completely unperturbed by her pouty glare.

“Rose. Come on, shower, dress up, do whatever it is you do, we got an appointment to keep.” He told her. Rose’s glare was enhanced by the way her nose wrinkled.

“An appointment? Emmett I swear if you’re trying to get me to go to marriage counselling again-“

“I’m trying to make you smile again.” He groaned exasperatedly. Her expression fell immediately, her golden irises softening from hardened topaz to gooey caramel. Emmett sighed, pulling her to her feet and reeling her in close. She was made for him, her body fit perfectly in his hands, against his. She was his shining light but she had been so dim since Bella had come to Forks.

“Emmett-“

“Rose, babe…I know you. I only have eyes for you. Who cares about some human? This family is immortal, we’ll survive it like we’ve survived everything else that comes our way. For one afternoon, just one, can I please, please have my wife back?” he pressed his forehead to hers, running a hand up and down her back. Rose remained tense for a while, but slowly her arms wound around his torso.

“What did you have in mind monkey man?” she tilted her chin, her lips a fraction of a centimetre from his own. Emmett’s smile returned.

“How’s about I take you to meet a really cute baby?”

By the end of the afternoon, seeing Rose smile at the young boy in her arms while he pretended to admire the newly fitted kitchen in Y/N’s house, Emmett started to understand what made her dream so beautiful, and so painful to wake from.

#twilight #twilight fanfiction #emmett cullen #rosalie hale #cullen family #emmett x rosalie #reader #Emmett is an absolute dumbo but he loves his wife #Rosalie is just stubborn #I bet he's really good at DIY secretly #this man knows plumbing like Mario

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evermorehaikyuu · 4 years

Note

“🌴❄: It’s winter break! I invite you over because I wanted to be with you.” And “🍪: Hey, stop eating the frosting, that’s for the cookies!” With Bokuto

Not gonna lie, I am sprinting through all of the 300 follower specials to get to the 500 special and two other projects I want to work on. So if its trash and not as long as you wanted which it will be, I apologize in advance pffft Let’s get started!

The only sounds reverberating through the room were the scratches of pencils, the occasional sniffle and the squeaking of chairs when someone shifted. Finals were the one thing that could make or break a student. They were a prison and once it was over, the feeling of freedom would loom over several students. They would have a few weeks before returning to hell, but at least they’d have a break and thoughts away from tests.

Y/N L/N’s last final was the hardest. She kept looking at the clock and at her test. Tick...tock...tick...

Once she wrote the final answer (not that she was entirely sure she was right) , she turned in her test paper and left the classroom. The pressure on her chest lifted and she was grinning like a maniac when she saw Bokuto and Akaashi.

“Y/N!” Wrapping her into a giant hug, Bokuto started asking about her test, how she thought she did, etc.

“That last question was awful, wasn’t it, Akaashi?” She rubbed her forehead just thinking about it.

“It was okay. Glad I took that final first, I wouldn’t want to be in your position.” Akaashi had to go home immediately, so he left the two of them alone.

“So….you want to come over?” Bokuto asked casually, his heart jumping into his throat when she agreed. On the way to his house, they started reviewing answers until Bokuto groaned and said, “I know I failed already, don’t rub it in.” He wave

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at his pout. “Okay, I won’t ask anything more.” She looked around the house. The only souvenirs of late night studying were the pile of textbooks and notes on the table. A journal full of messy scribbling sat next to the textbook, a suspicious spot of drool in the middle of the notebook. Pencils were scattered all over the tabletop and eraser shavings were all over the table. She turned to Bokuto, raising an eyebrow, and asked, “All nighter?”

He shook his head, beaming at her. “I know you would have killed me if I tried to pull an all nighter. I got stuff for us to make cookies!”

Moving into the kitchen, it was the complete opposite of the table. Everything was clean and prepared, it would be a shame to make a mess to make cookies. But the promise of a sugary delight was motivation enough to start making cookies.

“Flour, milk, butter, go!” Y/N commanded with the air of a general. Bokuto gladly obliged to her orders and soon enough, all of the ingredients were set in front of them. “Good job, soldier, we shall begin the festivities.”

They kept working at it, Bokuto mixing and Y/N making frosting. She said, “Switch with me, I don’t think the frosting’s ready yet, I think you’ll be better at mixing it.” Homemade frosting could go two ways: it could be the best thing ever or it could be trash. With any hope, it wouldn’t be the latter.

Bokuto stirred it until it looked like actual frosting. He started tasting it and before long, one quarter of the bowl was empty. Bokuto had frosting at the corner of his lips and that gave him away. Y/N turned to look at him and saw the culprit who had been eating the frosting. “Hey, stop eating all of the frosting, that’s for the cookies!” She whacked his hand with a spoon.

“But it’s so good! You’re like Gordon Ramsay!” He whined.

“DON’T EAT ALL OF THE FROSTING, YOU FUCKING DONKEY!” Y/N said with a mock British accent and laughing. “No, I’m serious, don’t eat all of the frosting!”

“Fine…” He didn’t eat the frosting, but he did stare at her when the cookies were made and edible. Softly smiling at her features, he bit into his own cookie. It was definitely the best thing he had ever had, but just seeing the girl across from him smile at her own creation was enough for him.

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #bokuto x reader #bokuto koutarou x reader #300 follower special #IM SPRINTING THROUGH ALL OF THEM

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izicodes · 9 months

Text

Sugary Scribbles | #2

Thursday 4th January 2024

【 Previous Project Log 】 I'm done with the wireframe! Basic little web app but I'm so happy! After working on it for 2-3 hours, it's completed!

I absolutely love the theme colours I chose for the project, I literally got inspiration from this one Pinterest post! Also the palette with the colours on, I love the design but I can't think how I will be able to achieve the design in actual code but I'll give it a go! I might add wooden texture to it to make it look fancy~!

I also made a little 'assets' info section for the extra bits of the app!

I have an idea that when you select a colour, the paint on the paint brush cursor changes colour. And since the web app has a limited colour palette, I just made each individual brush!

I'll probably start coding the HTML and SCSS side of the project later tonight or tomorrow! But first things first: make a GitHub repo for the project~!

That's all and happy coding! 🖤

#xc: project logs #sugary scribbles project #codeblr #coding #programming #progblr #studying #studyblr #dev logs #comp sci #computer science #programmer #devlogs #html css #javascript

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swellwriting · 6 years

Text

You found me.

Fandom: Harry Potter

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader

Warnings: none

Request: can I request Draco x female reader imagine? students are on break and girl convinces Draco to visit her home in the muggle world. they go shopping, visit museums, drink hot chocolate, go to the cinema... at the end of the day they are back in the girl's home and search through her old Hogwarts memories. later they are cuddled up and have sweet conversations🥰

Word Count: 3.7k

A break from college was much needed at this point in the semester, between exams and final projects you were glad to have a week where you could literally do nothing and not feel guilty about it. The week prior was spent surviving on a diet of 60% caffeine and 40% muffins with a mix of only 5 hours of sleep at most, but it was worth it for this stress-free break.

You lied in bed staring at the ceiling, you had just woken up of your own volition instead of by an alarm clock for the first time in months. Your mind raced with all the things you could do today, you could go to the coffee shop and enjoy having your morning drink there instead of racing out the door with it, you could read for pleasure in your own bed instead of the stuffy library with the weird mildew smell, or you could go shopping. The ideas drifted through your head as you weighed which was more favourable to yourself.

You got out of bed, grabbed a knitted sweater off the floor and pulled it over your shoulders walking to the kitchen in your small flat to get some cereal. As you crunched on the sugary breakfast food you continued pondering, you looked at the calendar on the wall to see something scribbled in red ink on today's date. It read: renew apparition licence today!

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath. That would be a good chunk of today's time wasted on long lines at the Ministry. You shrugged accepting the fact that you needed your apparition license, you needed to apparate to class at least a few times a week when you were running late and you couldn't afford to possibly pay the fine of being caught with an out of date licence. Not that you ever would get caught, attending a school full of muggles meant you only apparated into empty bathroom stalls and broom closets, but it was better safe than sorry.

Once you rinsed out your bowl you made your way to your room, your flat was small, deemed student housing making it was fairly cheap, so you wouldn't complain. The small closet in your room had a dresser crammed into it and hangers full of clothes on top, it was great being able to wear whatever you wanted, as long as it was reasonably appropriate, to school every day. You grabbed a pair of light wash jeans and slid them on, pulling the high rise pants up past your belly button, you slid a thin black long sleeve shirt on and tucked it in fastening the button, you grabbed your bag and a sweater before sliding your boots on and running out the door, better to get there early and get this over with.

Sadly, that's what many people had in mind as well. When you apparated into the main entrance of the Ministry you were met with the crowds of people making their way through the busy building. You looked at the signs and tried to find the licence renewal line and make your way there. You hadn’t had to do this since you turned 16, you got it a week after your birthday, though you weren't legally allowed to apparate until 18. You wondered if you would see anyone you knew here, anyone from Hogwarts with a birthday near yours that would also have to renew their license around now. As you walked, staring up at the signs trying to find the way you bumped into someone else who had been staring at their feet as they walked.

You noticed his polished black shoes first, as your eyes drifted up you saw a perfectly pressed white button up and then your eyes met his, a shade of silver just as you had remembered them.

“I'm sorry.” Where the only words that came out of your mouth as your mind raced, it had been over two years since you had last seen your old acquaintance from Hogwarts.

“It's alright.” He answered plainly making the conversation go nowhere but you both still stood there waiting for something to happen.

The large crowd seemed to part around the two of you as you stood in place looking up at him expectantly, but for what, you weren’t sure. From Draco you didn't expect a warm hug like you would from a different classmate, you expected perhaps a handshake, the general courteousness of a pompous rich boy like himself, instead he smiled awkwardly at you, “Hello, Y/n.”

“Hello, Draco.” You replied formally repeating his greeting to him, unsure of where the two of you stood.

The two of you weren't friends in Hogwarts, to say that would be a stretch but for a moment you wondered what would define a friend to Draco and though perhaps in his mind, you might fit the bill. You were kind to him, kind to everybody actually, you were potion partners for three years in a row at the end of Hogwarts and he once even bought you a hot chocolate at The Three Broomsticks when you ended up at the same large table with mutual friends. So even though it hadn't really crossed your mind maybe he did see you as a friend from school, more than you saw him as a just an old classmate.

“Do you work here?” He asked gesturing to the building you were both standing in.

“Oh no, I'm in school actually, the University of London, second year.” You said awkwardly. You hadn't seen many old friends from Hogwarts, you ahdnt looked forward to telling anyone from your old magical school that you had chosen to go to a muggle school, especially not someone like Draco. Even if you had heard that he changed, you had seen it a bit yourself in the last years of Hogwarts.

Draco raised a brow like he had no idea what you were talking about so you decided to further explain yourself to the boy with such a narrow world view, “Its a muggle school.”

He nodded and then looked confused again before asking, “Then what are you doing here?”

“Well I'm still a witch Draco,” you said it with no malice instead you gave a lighthearted chuckled before continuing to explain yourself, “I have to renew my apparition license, but I'm having trouble finding it.”

“Oh me too, I just got told its downstairs, here let me show you.” He said before turning and walking the direction the lady at the desk had just told him, he looked back every now and then to make sure you were still behind him, not daring to grab your hand. He seemed nervous and uneasy, to top it off he looked pale, paler than usual.

When you got to the line he stopped, “I guess a lot of people are here for the same thing.”

“I guess so.” You answered awkwardly as he stepped aside for you to go in front of him in the line, you smiled and quietly said thank you before turning to face the front. After a few minutes of awkward silence, the line had only moved a smidge. You decided it would be best to let the time pass with conversation, you turned swiftly to face Draco which seemed to surprise him.

“How are you?” You said abruptly, forcing a friendly smile on your face.

“Me? Oh, I'm good, yeah good.”

“Just good? Are you working somewhere or?”

“No.” He answered awkwardly fidgeting with his hands, “I'm rather uninteresting actually, how are you?”

“I'm good, stressed out beyond belief, well I'm sure you've felt similarly distressed.” You commented, meaning to relate to your mutual schooling at Hogwarts and being stressed for OWLS and such but by the look of bewilderment on his face, you knew he assumed you meant stress from the war or something regarding his trial.

“I mean, stressed from school, like at Hogwarts for OWLs, College is similar, actually less difficult really, but it's still a lot.”

“Oh, of course, yeah, schools always stressful.”

Your conversation was interrupted when you noticed Harry Potter walking out of a doorway with the sign “Department of Magical Law Enforcement” overhead. He quickly noticed Draco and walked over, it was hard to miss that platinum blonde hair.

“Draco! How are you?”

“Good, you?” He replied, he still looked just as uneasy when talking to Harry, you assumed they had become friends since you read that Harry testified for him at his trial.

“Good.” He said with a nod before noticing you, “And Y/n hello.”

“Hi, Harry.” You said, it was weird, you were never friends with him at Hogwarts. He would have never said hi to you if you weren’t stood beside Draco.

“Are you guys here together?” Harry asked as he looked at Draco expectantly.

“Now we just ran into each other, renewing our licenses,” Draco said, and you just nodded.

Harry’s smiled deflated a bit as he patted Draco on the shoulder. “Well, you should get out more often, other than renewing license’s and stuff, come by sometime soon!” Harry said before waving goodbye to you and then walking away.

“That was awkward.” You commented not meaning to let it slip out, you covered your mouth with your hand.

Draco chuckled, a genuine smile spreading across his face, “What and this is not?”

“Well, sort of, but it'd be awkward if I saw anyone from Hogwarts, it's not specifically because it's you. Regardless, you seem uneasy, like you don't want to be here.”

“Do you want to be here?” He asked and you shook your head.

“No, but you seem more nervous to be here than just generally annoyed like I am.”

“I just feel like, I don't know how to talk to people, I am a very different person from when I last spoke to you, for example, I don't know how to be me now. It sounds weird but it's just, I don't know. I feel like everyone everywhere is staring at me all the time and everyone hates me.” Draco confessed, sounding so honest and real that it almost scared you.

“You shouldn't care what people think.”

“Y/n, I haven't changed THAT much.” He said with a smile and you laughed.

Before you could say anything back to him the lady at the desk called out for the next person in line, which you hadn't realized until now was you.

Draco got called to the desk beside you and you both turned to each other when you were finished, standing there awkwardly again, unsure of what to do.

“I should go.” You said quietly as you stood out of the way.

“Yeah, me too, busy day ahead of me.”

“Busy? What do you have to do?” You asked, wondering what Draco Malfoy did if he didn't work.

“Sit in the manor, alone. Actually.” He tried to say it as a joke but the sadness in his eyes was telling.

“I actually have a few things to do, if you want to tag along, you know if the whole brooding alone thing can wait.”

“I can reschedule it actually,” he said with a thin smile, you could tell he was holding himself back from smiling wider, not wanting to seem too excited to actually have something to do.

You grabbed his hand and apparated back into the living room of your flat, it was small, like every room. There was a large window that took up most of the wall and looked down on part of London, you were a few floors up so you had a teeny tiny balcony as well. You had a bright patterned couch that you found on sale and textbooks and notes covering your coffee table, as well as many half drunk cups of tea.

“Sorry for the mess, I have to take a day to clean sometime this week.” You said gesturing to the mess before grabbing the sticky note attached to your fridge with a list of basic groceries you needed. You stuck the sticky note to Dracos neat white shirt, “hold this for me,” he looked down and peeled it off his shirt with a grin, holding the small list in his hands.

-almond milk

-bread

-muffins

-tea bags

-pasta

He read it over, what a weird shopping list, it was so normal. He looked at you as you grabbed your bag and walked over to the door, waving your hand for him to follow. As you walked down the stairs he had to ask, “Where are we getting these things? Why don't we just apparate?”

“We are going to the grocery store, and we are walking because it's nice outside for one and because muggles don't take kindly to someone magically appearing in front of their cart in the cereal aisle.”

Draco nodded trying to understand, he had never been to a grocery store in his life, he always had someone to do that for him. There was a small grocery shop a block away from your flat, you grabbed a basket instead of a cart and walked to where you knew, the things you needed, to be. You quickly grabbed them as Draco followed you like a lost puppy dog.

“This is really all I have to get done today, but I should take you to more muggle places, you seem confused and scared but in the way someone fears something unknown to them, when we were at the ministry you looked anxious and scared but in the way that you were scared of the people around you.” You paused for a moment thinking he would say something but he stayed silent so you continued. “The muggles? They don't care about you, they don't even know who you are, you will only get weird looks for wearing dress clothes in the middle of spring while walking on the streets.”

“So my attire is not muggle appropriate?”

“No, it's perfect of sulking in your house where only the house elves will see you, but it's terrible for literally anything else, except maybe a pureblood party.”

“This would never be suitable for a pureblood party, this is too dressed down,” he scoffed and you raised a brow at him as to tell him he was being too stuck up and posh, he mumbled a sorry in acknowledgment under his breath. “What would you suppose I wear?”

As the two of you stood in the checkout line you placed your items on the counter and turned to him trying to work with what you had. You raised a hand up slowly to his hair and paused looking him in the eyes before daring to touch it, he nodded his head giving you permission to mess up his perfectly gelled back platinum hair.

You dug your fingers in and shuffled them back and forth until his hair was less stuck in place and more tousled, falling to one side and sticking up in a few places, perfectly messy which made Draco already look like a whole new person.

Then as you still stood in the checkout line in the middle of a busy grocery shop you moved closer to him and undid a few buttons off the top and pulled his shirt untucked, you then rolled his sleeves up giving him an instantly more casual look. “That's the best that I can do,” you said with a smile.

As you paid for your food Draco whispered from behind you so the clerk wouldn't hear, ‘You made me look ridiculous didn't you?”

“No you look very handsome I promise.” You said without even thinking.” Draco’s cheeks turned light pink at that and he stood in shock, staring at the clerk behind the counter for a minute before he realized you had walked away.

He hurried to catch up with you and took your bag out of your hand to carry it for you, but as you got outside finding an unusually empty sidewalk you took the bag back from him and in a snap, it disappeared, being sent to your kitchen counter.

“So you buy groceries the muggle way, but you use magic at your own convenience.”

“Though this is a Muggle shop, wizards buy groceries too Draco, you just have house elves for such things.” You teased and he frowned realizing his view of a wizarding life varied from yours and others quite a bit.

“So, what other muggle things are we going to do then?”

“You actually want to? You have changed quite a lot then, you won't be too disgusted by them or too busy thinking you are superior to them?”

“My parents are still very much that way, and though I wouldn't want them to know what I was currently doing, I have no issue with it.”

“And if your parents knew you were willingly spending your day with a half-blood?”

“They'd probably faint but I don't care.”

“Ooh, Draco Malfoy. Ever the Rebel.” You teased as you stopped walking in front of the small museum you had always opposed but never gone to. “Care to be super rebellious and learn a little bit about Muggle history?”

Draco shrugged as he followed you inside, you walked in silently looking at the different exhibits, the one about past wars, the dinosaurs, some old statues and near the end there was a small art gallery with historic paintings. Draco was looking at one of some detailed building, an old castle of some sort when he heard you start laughing, it would be very disruptive had anyone else been in there.

“What's so funny?” He asked as he walked over and then frowned when he saw the painting, it was of a young man with white hair and a large frown on his face, he wore some old time clothes and it very much resembled Draco. “Oh, Merlin.”

“Nope, doesn't look like Merlin to me,” you paused bending over in laughter as Draco looked at you completely unamused, “looks like you.”

“Oh shut up,” he said as he finally let a smile crack. Now that you had seen he wasn't actually upset at finding his painting doppelganger you grabbed his shoulders lightly and moved him to stand beside it, you backed up admiring the resemblance and then burst out laughing again.

“It's uncanny really.” Then your mouth opened as you came to a great realization, you had a camera with you, you shuffled through your bag and felt it in your hands, before pulling it out you looked at Draco with a pleading smile. “Please.”

“What?” He asked looking a bit scared.

You pulled the camera out and hid your face behind it, he breathed loudly letting out a huff. “Fine.”

You looked into the viewfinder and framed the photo, it was perfect. You clicked it, making sure the flash was off to not draw attention from any security guards.

As soon as you pulled the camera down he moved away from the painting, you walked up beside him moving on to the exit and out to the sidewalk.

“That was fun.”

“Ah yes, fun. You making fun of me is very fun.”

“I'm not making fun of you, I'm having fun with you, there’s a difference, even if you're not used to the latter.”

“I have fun,” he argued.

“When is the last time you had fun with someone and you weren't making fun of someone else?”

“Probably potions class with you?” he said honestly, almost like a question. You smiled at that, it was such a cute thing to say even if it was just his honest thoughts.

“I guess that counts, this is better though.” You smiled as you turned into a shop, holding the door for Draco to walk in behind you.

“Hot chocolate? I need a break from my caffeine binge of last week. I’ll buy this time if you buy next time.” You said with a smile and Draco agreed, going to find the two of you a table by the window.

“If you want me to pay next time we will have to visit the three broomsticks or something, I might be rich in the wizarding world but to muggles my money is rubbish.” He commented.

“Sure, I've been dying to go back there anyways I haven’t been in so long.”

“Last time I was there was when we pushed two tables together, it was right before the big battle at Hogwarts, maybe a week before, we were all so stressed and nervous that it didn't matter who was sat at the table, Slytherins sat there, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws and even Gryffindors, it was fun complaining about school and the war together, it was like group therapy.”

“You bought me a hot chocolate that night.” You said with a smile as you sipped your sweet drink.

“I remember that.”

“A weird act of kindness for the then Draco Malfoy.”

“Well, I felt like you deserved it, you looked stressed.”

“I was stressed, we all were.”

“But you were the only one I really cared about, the others could fuck right off if I'm being honest.”

“Did Draco Malfoy just say he cared about me?”

“You were always kind to me, patient, even when I didn't deserve it,” he admitted as he sort of his behind his drink, taking small sips.

“Everybody deserves a bit of kindness.”

“And here you are, being kind yet again even though I haven't talked to you for over two years, I thought about it but I never had your address anyways.

“Well, you found me now.” You said with a smile and he smiled back, genuine, all toothy with no holding back for his reputation.

“Let's go see a movie, I'm out of ideas after that.”

“A muggle movie I assume.”

“Yep, with muggle snacks and muggle actors and everything, the full experience, even chewed muggle gum under the seats!”

“I don't even want to inquire on that last part.” He said as you both stood up and walked over to the movie theatre down the street, preparing to stuff your faces with overly buttery popcorn and bubbly soda drinks.

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disruptedvice · 6 years

Text

Lead the way (Modern setting/NASA interns AU)

Summary: “I think my parents had a little something different in mind when they named me than doing math with my life.”

Or Thor and Valkyrie are both NASA interns pulling an all nighter on the project they're working on together, and bonding and flirting happens (not necessarily in that order)

Also, Valkyrie’s a mechanical engineer who picked Thor as her partner cause boy’s got some drawing skills for these plans they’re drafting up, so if that sounds like something you’d be into...

AO3 Link

___________

Lead the way ___________

“I didn't know they let design students in this program,” she said, looking over at him, no judgement in her tone, just… something like a idle curiosity. It was late. Seriously late. There was something about being so utterly exhausted that made her more open to conversation that she normally would have avoided.

Usually she avoided small talk with the other interns, much preferring to focus on the task at hand than bonding over student loan debt and shared misery of a grueling, intensive program. At least it was a paid internship. And she had to work her ass off to become a better applicant than the hundreds, if not thousands of applications the program received. The NASA internship was highly competitive, but now she was here.

And fucking exhausted.

There was something so cool about being in the observatory this late at night though. That's probably what had her in such a good mood. She was tired as hell, much more tired than cramming for even the most intensive finals, but she was exhausted and satisfied.

The was almost something otherworldly about the atmosphere, being alone this late at night, this whole section absolutely deserted, like maybe it was haunted or something, which was fucking awesome. There was something so creepy about being in this building in the middle of the night when no one was around that made her want to go explore all the other dark rooms and twists and turns and halls she had never been down before. It totally had that haunted vibe at night. Even the observatory here, the single lamp illuminating the table, casting shadows on the walls around them. Totally spooky atmosphere.

Maybe that was just the sleep deprivation talking. Valkyrie made a mental note to look up if anyone had been murdered in the near vicinity, or any conspiracy theories about the facility after she was done for the night.

“Double major,” her sleepy cohort explained, blearily blinking before rubbing his eyes like that would wake him up or something.

She raised a curious eyebrow at him.

Thor was… well, he was something.

Valkyrie still didn't know the interns as much as they seemed to know each other (she wasn't exactly ‘social’, despite the camaraderie of them all being tired interns). She didn't take the time to get to know them, preferring to eat her lunch alone than making small talk with the rest of them.

Thor was definitely the only intern she was even slightly familiar with. Over the past couple weeks they had built up a report and a mutual friendly sorta rivalry that was filled with sarcastic barbs and lots of eye rolls and genuine smiles.

He was surprisingly funny, and had a different way of thinking about things- solutions to problems that made her lower her brows in puzzlement because could that actually work, and then her inevitably being impressed because his work around solution that was just weird and out there in a befuddling sort of way actually did work.

She actually buddied up with him on this project because she had seen his art skills, and if they had to draw up drafts for this new- machine they were making, she definitely wanted him on her team.

As a mechanical engineer, Valkyrie could sketch out a rough plan well enough, but that's where her artistic ability began and ended.

This was the most they'd talked to each other in one sitting. They still didn't know each other all that well. Their relationship was more built upon sharing a similar sense of humor and trading quips throughout the day than sitting down and actually getting to know each other.

She looked down at the cup in her hands- he knew her well enough to know how she preferred to take her caffeine, brought her this huge cup of tea for this all nighter they were pulling. Maybe they actually were friends.

But, as he adjusted the plans with the modifications they were brainstorming a couple of moments ago, she had the bizarre urge to actually ask him a personal question. And she actually followed through on it.

He'd answered that he was a design student when she inquired to his artistic ability (he was clearly talented, and his rough sketches were always next level compared to the other interns), but that actually confused her even more.

She didn't know they let non-STEM field applicants in this program. But double major, that explained it.

“Overachiever,” Valkyrie scoffed with a teasing smile, and Thor chuckled.

“Yeah, maybe a bit,” he conceded, still smiling as he worked.

And that smile of his was a little too cute. How had she never noticed that before? She definitely noticed how his teasing smile was infuriatingly attractive, and how he had a nice, full, resounding laugh, that she liked the way his eyes twinkled when she made a sarcastic comment or quip. And he had a stupid hot smirk that he wore during their verbal sparring matches with each other.

But she'd never noticed how cute his smile was until now. Maybe it was because she'd never seen this one on him before.

With his exhaustion written all over him, the small smile that matched his sleepy expression, somehow he seemed more unguarded than she's ever seen him too- more bare, vulnerable. And this soft, sleepy smile of his was definitely cute.

“So,” she shot him an expectant look (and gave him a light little elbow to his arm). “You not gonna tell me what you’re an actual overachiever in?”

Thor looked confused for a moment, like he didn’t realize he just left her hanging without revealing what his second major was. Left her curious, actually interested in what his answer would be, not just trying to make dreaded small talk with a fellow intern.

“Oh, oh yeah,” he said, seeming a bit sheepish. She couldn’t blame him for forgetting the unspoken rules of human interaction like you don’t just tell your NASA project partner you’re a design major and a something else major and just leave it at that. If exhausted intern was a competition, he might be winning right now.

“Yeah,” Thor mumbled, dragging his hand over his face, like his tired brain still needed time to process the statement. “Yeah, uh, design and astronomy. Astronomy. That’s the second one. Design wasn’t just an art thing though- we did a lot of like, aerodynamics stuff in some of those classes. Like this,” he tapped the plans they had sketched out in front of them, for this projectile that they would theoretically be sending into space.

Valkyrie smiled. “Nerd.”

“Hey!” He whined, like it was something to actually get offended about. “You can’t call me a nerd! You’re a nerd too!”

“Yeah, I know,” she raised her eyebrows, genuinely amused, still waiting for him to get she was being facetious. “It’s called a joke. People do that sometimes.”

Thor’s eyes widened, actually blushing at the realization cause yeah, duh. Then buried his face in his hands, groaning in embarrassment. “Sorry. I am way too damn tired right now.”

“I can tell,” she chuckled. When he still didn’t look up, she nudged him, once and then again. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just fun messing with you right now. We’ll both be lucky if these plans actually make sense in the morning.”

She took another sip from her drink, the one he had so graciously brought her, saying he didn't really do caffeine when she asked him why he only came in carrying one, with nothing nothing sugary or caffeinated to carry him through this all nighter.

She looked at the cup in her hand, how Valkyrie was spelled out in black scribbled sharpie beside her order, and thought it was kinda nice. Even though she’d gotten the same order for herself from the same local coffee shop with the same cups and the same cardboard handle, this was the first time she had seen Valkyrie on one of her cups of tea before. She always just gave her last name for coffee orders. People didn’t ask her if she was ‘making that up’ when she said Thompson when prompted for her name. Didn’t get weird looks like Valkyrie would garner with her chai latte.

It was almost a novel sight, seeing her first name scrawled on the cup Thor brought her this evening. Not an unwelcome one, though. It was kinda nice.

“You want some tea?” She offered, holding it out to him. “I know you said you don’t do caffeine, but it really does make all nighters a bit more bearable.”

Thor eyed her cup, like he was weighing his options, with a calculating and almost suspicious look that made her certain he was doing a cost benefit analysis of whatever pros caffeine had to offer versus whatever reason he avoided it for. He apparently decided just screw it, swiping the precious caffeine from her, and Valkyrie grinned like caffeine was something to be a corrupting influence about.

After taking a drink, Thor suddenly looked down, staring at her cup like it was a wonder. “Man, I have really been missing out,” he murmured. “That is delicious.”

She laughed. “I know. ‘S why I like it so much.”

Thor turned the cup over in his hands, pursing his lips something thoughtful in his focus. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about that,” he said suddenly, still focused on her cup. “Your name, I mean. Valkyrie. Did you pick that, or was it given to you?” He had an oddly sincere look on his face as he fiddled with the cardboard holder, spinning it around the warm drink, and she realized that’s what he was focused on. Those eight letters scrawled out on the side in black ink.

“I mean,” he started again, licking his lips almost nervously, “don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I’m one to talk,” Thor chuckled a bit at his self deprecating jab, since the plight of uncommon names was something they shared. “And your name is so much cooler than mine- I was just wondering if you chose a superhero name for yourself as like a personal decision or like… is there a story behind it?”

“It’s the one on my birth certificate,” she shrugged. “Think my parents expected me to be doing something a bit different with my life than math.”

Her parents were supportive when she took a statistics class and found herself much more interested in calculating test statistics from population parameters and sample means, and from there it was a quick slide into math centered courses and then landing in her university’s mechanical engineering program. She thought she hated math since 5th grade, but found out that wasn’t the case in college, much more interested and engaged in it than any humanities subject she had ever taken or anything her high school math teachers had put before her.

Still, math and engineering were a pretty far cry from mythological warrior maidens

She had a stage in middle school where she tried going by a normal name, just the average identity crisis that all kids with uncommon names went through at some point, especially kids named after mythological figures. But that was when she was 12 years old.

Now she was an adult, and she quite liked her name. She didn’t care to go through the hassle of having to explain it to a barista and answer all their questions every time she ordered a cup of coffee (she was more the get in get out kind of person), but she did like her name. She agreed with his assessment. Valkyrie was a pretty cool name.

She had expected him to laugh at her little math joke, since he was obviously familiar with the historical origins of Valkyrie to call it a superhero name, and all the calculus they had to do in this program was a pretty far cry from a warrior figure. But he didn’t.

“What? You’re literally leading human exploration into space,” he said, pointing down at the project they’ve been working on for the past couple hours. “Celestial bodies and into the cosmos. Don’t think you can get more Valkyrie than that.”

Valkyrie just stared at him for a second. Maybe a couple of seconds.

“What?” Thor asked carefully, like he might have said something wrong, but he wasn’t sure.

She felt the heat rise to her face, and she quickly looked away, focusing on the table instead of the absolutely earnest look in his eyes when he was saying stuff like that.

“Nothing. I just… that’s a nice way of thinking of it,” she mumbled, really having no better way of describing the pleased feeling rising in her chest at his words. ____

Maybe it's the sleep deprivation. Maybe it's the sound of his voice. Maybe it's his smile that's so cute it's doing stuff to her head. Maybe it's how open he is. Maybe it's how there's something entrancing about the way his pencil glides across the paper as he draws out all the modifications according to her specs. Maybe it's how many times she's laughed in the past half hour. Maybe it's the way he looks at her, how it's 3 AM and they're both exhausted, and he's too tired to even attempt to hide how he lights up when she says his name, too tired to not look absolutely taken with her as she talks about thermodynamics and gets really passionate defending how the only B she ever got in her whole college career was from a complete asshole who failed her final project for not following instructions because she found a quicker, more efficient loophole that technically wasn't following the project guidelines.

Maybe it's how he keeps chiming in and making her laugh, how his eyes are so intense it makes her heart flutter, how some of their tired banter has drifted much closer to flirtatious than it ever has before, how she's felt the heat creep up her neck from something he said in a way that wasn't bad at all, how they're both tired out of their mind and just have their guards completely down, just talking and not trying to hide anything, unable to hide anything, and having a genuinely good time together.

Maybe it's a lot of things.

Probably the tired thing. Like 98% of it is being utterly exhausted, because normally she preferred to keep anything with a peer from classes or someone she works with to a strictly platonic level, and would always steer a conversation away from exactly what this felt like it was going to if it even started hinting at this.

Maybe it's because she likes him. She really, really likes him.

Whatever the reason, she broke her informal rule of never so much as entertaining the idea of striking something up with a professional colleague, wouldn't risk it.

Yeah, she's pretty sure it's the tiredness that makes it seem so doable right now, breaking that equilibrium. But she's feeling confident, and he's cute, and she maybe actually really likes Thor, and is pretty sure the feeling is mutual. So she takes the dive.

“Would you tell me if you had been flirting with me this whole time?” Valkyrie asked suddenly.

Thor blinked, still staring down at the table as his face flushed, even the tips of his ears turning red.

“Uh… maybe not this whole time,” he answered, endearingly awkward. He still wasn't looking up, still wasn’t looking at her. “Would you- be okay with that?”

Valkyrie had to bite her tongue and clench her fists to hold back the snort of laughter because that would've been so mean, to laugh at him, but he was just so cute, and did he seriously just ask for permission to flirt with her?

Though she was pretty sure she knew what he was actually asking. If it was… reciprocated, if any advances more overt than subtle flirting would be welcomed on her part. Still, the way he phrased it just made it sound like he was asking her permission to flirt with her which was downright adorable.

Valkyrie took a sip of her chai latte, hiding her smile behind the brim of the cup.

“Yeah, think I'd be pretty okay with you flirting with me a lot more often,” she informed him, a silly sorta happiness on her face that she really wasn't used to letting show. She more went for the brooding looks, tried to put out a don't talk to me vibe because she hated most people and would really like her life to have a lot less human interaction in it than it did. She tried to put out the brooding don't bother me vibe, she wasn't used to making a silly little smile like this in the presence of another person. She found she was pretty okay with that too.

Thor looked up, saw the twinkle of amusement in her eye, just the general- warmth about her, and oh that smile. Yeah, she was definitely okay with him smiling at her like that a hell of a lot more often.

“Duly noted,” he said with a barely suppressed grin, and she actually did snort at that. She couldn't help laughing, and when he laughed too, she didn't really want to help it.

They'd kinda devolved into smiling these ridiculously dorky smiles at each other, but Valkyrie had the presence of mind to remember they still had a project to finish.

“Okay, pretty boy, back to work. We still got a long night ahead of us.”

Thor gasped, “Would you tell me if you were flirting with me the whole time?”

Despite how much he brightened, she had to shoot him down, because no, she had not been flirting with him the whole time.

“Nope, I’m much more overt than that when I’m hitting on someone. Say stuff like ‘pretty boy’,” she smirked, and there was that laugh from him again. That full laugh from the very center of his being that filled her bones with warmth.

Maybe in the morning she’d repay him for the tea and introduce him to all the other caffeinated drinks he’d been missing out on.

____

~Fin~ ____

Author's note: so I was browsing @shittyaus last night and saw their prompt “I, an astronomy major, and you, an engineering major, are working together to design a new type of spaceship in our free time” and then I was up all night writing this

PS. America’s accomplishments in the space race never would’ve happened without the women and women of color working at NASA in the 60s. You know what they called the female mathematicians they employed at NASA? Human computers. Because all the calculations had to be done by hand, and guess who was doing the computations for NASA? I haven’t seen the biopic yet, but I’ve heard it’s good, and you can always read the book Hidden Figures is based off of if you want a good nonfiction read about the black female engineers and mathematicians at NASA from the 1930s-1960s

#thorkyrie #thorkyrie fic #valkyrie #thor #brunnhilde #thor ragnarok #AU #fanfic #MCU fanfiction #tessa thompson #thor x valkyrie #my thor fics #my fic

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fantasyuta · 6 years

Text

falling for you

[ mark x reader: cafe!au, fluffy ]

[ wc: 2766 ]

a/n: i love mark lee, that’s all. also sorry if the ending got a bit awkwardly phrased i’m awful at ending this kind of stuff :(

it’s been only a couple months since you’ve moved to korea, but you’re already homesick.

you decided studying abroad would be a good idea to get a new perspective on your studies, so you’d applied to a few universities in the bustling city of seoul, south korea. plus, your best friend, yuna, who was a korean transfer student you had met in high school, had her own apartment that she excitedly let you share. the first few days had been bliss: you went out with yuna to explore your new home for the next semester or two. you visited the line store, went to everland, korea’s biggest amusement park, and shopped til you dropped.

but after the semester begins, you’re ready to go back home. your first week of school is awful; your korean isn’t great, so it’s hard to find your classes and navigate the city without yuna, who went to a different university for her music major. it doesn’t help that you had to pile up on morning classes for your requirements, despite your bad habits of sleeping in.

you find that one effective method of destressing is visiting at the cafe only a few minutes away from your shared apartment. your sweet tooth always gets the better of you, and you can’t resist ordering a sugary drink, whether it be a caramel macchiato or strawberry smoothie. you find yourself going to the cafe on a daily basis, usually right after your classes are over. just for fun, you decide to try to order everything on the menu at least once.

you quickly become a regular customer, and you instantly notice when something in the cafe changes. and halfway through the semester, the barista who usually takes your order -- a quiet girl named jiwoo who always seems to be in a bad mood -- switches to a big-eyed boy whose name tag reads ‘mark’ with a crooked smiley face.

the first day he starts working at the cafe, he stutters your order back to you and almost drops a cup as he scribbles down your name. but as he becomes used to working as a barista, he becomes a much more cheerful boy; he doesn’t say anything about your accented korean, whereas jiwoo would frown at your mispronunciations and ask you to repeat your order. he can instantly tell what kind of drink you want just by your expression; when you show up in a dripping raincoat and a gloomy face, he immediately rings up a hot chocolate, with extra whipped cream for good measure. and when you walk up to the register in a smile and bright outfit, he knows you’re in the mood for a smoothie. and he leaves little notes as he hands you your beverage with a grin: ‘have a nice day!’ ‘happy friday!’ ‘you can do it!’, all ending in a crooked smiley face matching the one on his name tag.

and without your knowledge, mark lee has a big, fat crush on you. he’s falling for you hard.

when the cafe starts to empty and you sit in a cozy corner with your textbooks and notebooks sprawled across the table, he admires you from afar as he wipes a dirty table. he admires you from the register when you scowl at notes from a lecture while studying for an upcoming test. he admires you while sweeping the floor when you start dozing off in the warm cafe with soft jazz music playing out its speakers, as the cafe approaches its closing hours. but the moment he loves most is when you grin at him as you choose your next adventurous drink, and the split second of your hand touching his as you hand him a few thousand won to pay for your beverage.

as finals week approaches and mark hands you warm lattes topped with cute misshapen hearts of milk and foam, you spend more and more time holed up at the cafe. you’re stressed out to the max, and you desperately want to pass your classes with good grades to make sure you moving out all the way to korea wasn’t a futile investment and waste of time. luckily, the cafe is where you can focus best, since the apartment is always blaring with yuna’s newest composition for her music classes that she apologetically explains she needs for her final project. the muted conversations of other patrons of the cafe, the clinking of glass, the soft music, and one special barista all help create a comfortable environment for you to study.

the monday before finals week, you arrange a study session at the university library with a few of the other international students in your classes. you’re well acquainted with vernon and joshua, two boys who always joke around even during lectures and never fail to make to smile. rose is a tall, pretty girl with a lilting australian accent who diligently takes notes and offers to help you study immediately when you tentatively approach her. the four of you decide on friday evening as the most convenient time to get together to cram for finals together.

of course, friday has to be the day it starts snowing.

you camp out at the cafe, your new haven, as you try to organize your scattered notes. you lose track of time as you highlight and underline your words, and the snow continues to fall outside. and from afar, mark watches you, mesmerized by the sight of you working, with your nose scrunching up every so often.

suddenly, you hear your phone buzz. you shuffle papers around, trying to find your phone underneath a stack of papers, and you blink at the notifications.

[ 5 unread messages from: rose ]

[ 2 missed calls from: vernon ]

[ 7 messages from: joshua ]

you groan and internally punch yourself in the face as you realize that you forgot about your study session, and you’re 15 minutes late.

you shove all of your pens, highlighters, notes, and books into your backpack and rush towards the cafe door as you call vernon back. ‘ohmygosh i’msosorryvernon i’ll be there in 5 minutes!’ you exclaim into the phone, hurriedly pulling on your parka as you walk as fast as you can without slipping on the snowy sidewalk.

mark, jolted out of his daze by the sudden jingle of the bell on the cafe door and the slam of the door shutting, sullenly heads to your abandoned table with a rag to clean up. as always, an empty cup is sitting on the table; however, in your haste to leave, you left your wallet on the table.

curiosity gets the better of mark, and he opens your wallet to find a few thousand won (you are a broke student, after all), a student id card, a polaroid of you and yuna that you took on your first day in korea, a tiny picture of your family, and a folded up post it note. the boy opens the post it note, which reads, ‘if found, please contact this number!’ with your phone number, the message written in both korean and english. he studies your student id card (he blushes, thinking, is this creepy?) and reads the label that declares you as an international student. he ponders on what to do; the cafe is scheduled to close over the weekend due to the heavy snow, and he knows it’ll be hard for you to make time especially during finals week.

taking a deep breath, he slowly pulls his phone out of his apron pocket.

it’s 10:49 pm, and your study session is coming to a close. the university library closes at 11, so you and your three classmates contentedly clean up the table littered with notebooks, laptops, and textbooks. the four of you studied for almost 5 hours straight, and for the first time in a while, you feel hopeful about your chances at doing well in college.

you’d turned your phone off to reduce its distracting notifications. as it awakens, your phone buzzes, and you frown at the unfamiliar number that has texted you.

[ 6:18 pm ] 010-127-0802: hello is this y/n?

[ 6:18 pm ] 010-127-0802: you left your wallet at the cafe, and the snow’s bound to get worse

[ 6:19 pm ] 010-127-0802: so i thought today would be the best time for you to get your wallet back

you groan; you must’ve forgotten your wallet as you were trying to get out of the cafe as fast as possible. you’re a little surprised (and relieved) that someone who seems to speak english fluently found your wallet; at least there won’t be an awkward conversation with your broken korean making an unwanted appearance.

[ 10:52 pm ] you: thank you so much! i didn’t even notice my wallet was gone haha

[ 10:52 pm ] you: when would be an okay time to come get it? isn’t it too late right now?

the unknown number texts back quickly.

[ 10:53 pm ] 010-127-0802: actually, i’m still near the cafe right now and it doesn’t close until 11:15

[ 10:54 pm ] 010-127-0802: if you have time, maybe we could meet up before it closes?

[ 10:54 pm ] you: alright, that sounds good. thank you again!

you wave goodbye to rose, vernon, and joshua as you trudge through the snow back to the cafe. you can’t help but wonder who found your wallet. you can’t help but shiver as you imagine a creepy old man who purposely led you to the cafe to kidnap you. or maybe it’s some middle school kid who stole all of your money to go to pc rooms and set you up to look like an idiot. kids these days have no manners.

at 11 pm, you arrive at the cafe, empty except for mark, who’s busy sweeping the floor. he glances up at you and quickly averts your gaze, furiously attacking the floor with his broom instead as he blushes. on the other hand, you’re surprised at the cafe’s emptiness; the person who’d found your wallet said they were near the cafe, and there’s only 15 minutes until it closes. you retreat back into your familiar corner and wait for your wallet’s return.

you languidly watch mark clean up the cafe alone as the minutes pass by. he finishes sweeping the floor and washes the last of the cups and dishes. as he hums along to the soothing music from the cafe’s speakers, he waters the tiny succulents on the windowsill and puts up all the chairs on the tables, passing by your table with a tiny smile that you return. but you grow more and more disheartened as it approaches closer and closer to 11:15.

at 11:15, you sigh and put your head down in your crossed arms. you’re worn out from studying, and you haven’t even gotten your wallet back yet. maybe it really was a middle school jerk who wasted your money on snacks and games. you hear the skidding of a chair’s legs across the floor, and you realize it’s mark sitting in front of you. slowly, you look up, and your eyes widen as he pulls your wallet out of the front pocket of his apron. ‘sorry i took so long, y/n,’ he says with a sheepish smile.

you’re shocked: out of all the times you ordered a drink from mark, you could’ve been ordering in english instead of in your clumsy korean.

‘mark, why didn’t you tell me you could speak perfect english?!’ you exclaim. ‘that would’ve made my life, like, 500 times easier, you know.’

the boy shrugs with another sheepish smile. ‘i don’t know… there’s a lot of international students around here that can’t speak english. like there’s a french international school right down the street. i just wasn’t sure,’ he confesses.

you laugh. ‘okay, good point. but how are you so good at english, then?’

‘i lived in canada for a while before i moved here. i think it’s only been a few years since i’ve moved to korea, actually,’ he explains.

‘oh, i see! then why’d you move to korea?’

‘for college, i guess, because i’m a music major. actually, your friend yuna is in my composition class! you guys are close right?’

your eyes widen. ‘how’d you know that?’

‘w-well, you had a photo with her, in y-your wallet, you know,’ he sputters. ‘i wasn’t trying to be creepy or anything, i promise! i just noticed she was a familiar face.’

‘okay, whatever you say, mark,’ you giggle. ‘speaking of which, i should start to head home, yuna’s probably getting worried by now.’

mark quickly stands up from his seat. ‘wait! i’ll walk you home,’ he exclaims. ‘it’s not safe to walk home alone at this time of night, you know. like what if you get abducted by some creepy stranger? or what if--’ he gasps ‘--you slip on a piece of ice, and you crack your head open, and no one finds you until tomorrow morning?’

you cringe at the mental image that pops into your head. ‘fine, come with me,’ you pout. mark just grins and grabs his jacket and backpack from behind the cafe counter. after double checking that the speakers are silent, the lights are shut off, and the cafe entrance is locked, he announces, ‘alright, let’s get out of here!’

it’s a brief walk to your apartment complex, but you quickly learn that mark is aspiring to produce his own songs and that he can play the guitar. although apprehensive at first, he quickly warms up to you and shows his witty side, making bad jokes to make you laugh. finally, you reach the door to your apartment, and you and mark awkwardly mill about, not wanting to leave the other.

‘anyway,’ you finally say with a bright smile, ‘thanks for walking me home. and thank you more for finding my wallet! i seriously don’t know how to repay you.’

mark smiles that shy, sheepish smile again. ‘you don’t have to repay me, it’s the least i could do,’ he says gently.

you’re not sure what overcomes you, but suddenly you have an idea. ‘well,’ you say cheerfully, ‘this is the least i could do.’

you stand on the tips of your toes, and right then and there, you give the boy a peck on his cheek flushed from the cold winter air. you smile as his round eyes grow even rounder and meet yours.

you turn around and punch in the code to unlock your apartment door, trying to hide your blushing cheeks and growing smile. you hear mark tentatively say, ‘hey, y/n?’

shyly, you turn again to face the boy, who slowly approaches you until you’re backed up against the door. his eyes beg for permission, and you give a tiny yielding smile that he returns as his face comes closer and closer to yours. and then he kisses you, pressing his warm lips onto yours, his mouth tasting of caramel and his body smelling of fresh coffee. you can’t help but close your eyes, running your hands through his fluffy hair as you press back into him. mark smiles into your lips and finally pulls away after what feels like an eternity in heaven.

slightly out of breath, you only manage to whisper, ‘good night, mark,’ before disappearing into your apartment and slamming the door shut. slumping against the door, you feel your cheeks and ears burning from the kiss, and your heart feels like it’s racing at 100 miles per second.

mark, leaning on the other side of your door, is astonished by his own actions. where’d he manage to muster the courage to kiss you? he hasn’t even asked you out to a date yet. groaning, mark pulls out his phone and reopens your text conversation.

[ 12:26 am ] 010-127-0802: uhhhhh are you free anytime after finals week?

[ 12:26 am ] 010-127-0802: i kind of forgot to ask you out on a real date

your phone buzzes, and you read mark’s messages with a thumping heart.

[ 12:26 am ] you: sure, sounds good

[ 12:27 am ] you: except during finals week

[ 12:27 am ] you: whatever just get home safe for now you dork

[ 12:27 am ] 010-127-0802: your wish is my command ;)

you can’t help but grin at the thought of mark taking you out on a date. you realize his number still doesn’t have a contact name, so you save it is ‘mark :)’. maybe studying abroad in korea won’t be as awful anymore.

god, you’re falling for mark lee hard.

#mark #mark lee #mark scenario #mark imagine #mark fluff #nct #nct 127 #nct u #nct 2018 #nct fanfic #nct scenario #nct imagine #nct au #nct fluff #nct mark

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conquerorofshamballa2-blog · 6 years

Text

This could not be more last minute lol

Sorry @tsumi-alchemist but you got stuck with the worst procrastinator on the planet for your @fmasecretsanta2018. Here’s some royed domestic college AU fluff and smut for ya, hope you enjoy :)

Roy tapped his foot against the linoleum floors of their kitchen as he thought to himself, mulling Ed's question to him over in his head. But it was hard to think when he’s getting glared at impatiently, no matter much he loves those fiery eyes.

"Yes or no question, Roy."

"Don't play that card with me. You know it's more complicated than that." Nothing is ever complicated to Ed. Roy wishes he could live with that kind of clarity, knowing so strongly with all his being right from wrong, seeing the world in stark, contrasting colors. At least he’s had the comfort of getting to see the world in golden brilliance ever since Ed came into his life.

Ed huffs in annoyance, which is his typical response when Roy dares to make words with his mouth, as if he could ever be correct. Or at least, as correct as Ed is. "Fine. Okay... what if it's guaranteed that neither of us will get hurt?"

Well, that does make things simpler. Roy crosses his arms and leans back against the counter, hand coming up to stroke his chin as he watches Ed raid their pantry. He'll never understand how he can come home from movies hungry, after hoovering up both his own and half of Roy's popcorn like his body was fueled solely by salt and butter and he was close to dying.

"Hm... that does make it more tempting, but... no. No, I wouldn't let a symbiote enter our relationship."

Ed scoffs at him. "Coward."

"Selfish." Roy corrects him with an amused smile. "I simply don't want to share you."

Ed finally finds something that pleases him, kicking the cupboard door shut behind him as he unwraps the tinfoil prize in his hand, chomping into the poptart with gusto. And Lord, Roy loves him. How can he make the most barbaric behaviors come off as irresistibly charming?

“No wonder you changed your career choice.” He says with a mouthful of the cardboard snack, spraying crumbs as he talks. “You’d make a lousy scientist.”

“And what makes you say that?” Roy asks, though he doesn’t question Ed’s judgement on the matter. He’s barely an adult and already halfway through his PhD program, plowing through courses at a rate that makes even the coldest, most sardonic professors at their university worry about his health. His mind is as brilliant as the golden hair that halos him, and Roy marvels at being allowed to take up space in that ever whirring mind.

Meanwhile, Roy was at a loss with what to do with his BS in chemistry when he first graduated, not knowing how to structure his life outside of school. After a particularly miserable stint in the military, he returned with new purpose, finding a home in politics. He was a little behind, however, having to start over and now still working towards his MS in polisci at the tail end of his 20s.

He wouldn’t change any of it, though. Not at the risk of never meeting the incredible man standing barefoot with a mouth full of sugary sand in his kitchen. That’s the one good thing that came out of his now useless chemistry degree; the ability to sign up as a TA for the class he met Edward in. He’ll never forget that first meeting, a furious angel with looks that could kill storming into his borrowed office, failed assignment in hand and mouth already running. Roy could barely keep up with the colorful, creative insults (mostly aimed at his intelligence) hurled his way, partly because he was too taken aback by suddenly being face to face with the most beautiful human being he had ever seen in his life.

After finally calming him down and getting to take another look at his assignment, Roy was able to confirm that yes, Ed did get everything correct, and my apologies, I must have mixed your grade up with another student’s, and also, would you like to get coffee sometime?

The ridiculous, gawking look Ed had given him was almost worth the sting of rejection he felt when he stomped out of his office, slamming the door hard enough to knock off some professor’s doctoral degree that had been hanging on the wall, glass front shattering.

It wasn’t an entirely surprising reaction, considering what he had quickly learned about the young man’s temper within that brief meeting. What was surprising was when a familiar, golden wreathed angel stomped right back up to him in class the next day, shoving a scrap of paper with a cell number hastily scribbled on it into Roy’s hands before stomp stomp stomping away again without a single word.

It was a rare occurrence for Roy, getting surprised. He knew instantly this could be something special, something real.

“What makes me say that,” Ed starts, pulling Roy out of his nostalgic reverie, “is that any scientist worth their salt would not hesitate to fuck Venom. Or fuck their boyfriend while being bonded to Venom.”

Yes. This has absolutely become something very, very special.

“Well, I’m happy to know where your mind was at while we were watching that movie.” Roy says dryly, frowning at the crumbs that were now dusting his previously clean floor.

“My mind was at science. Shut up, everything I say makes perfect sense.” He commands before Roy gets the chance to tease him for his wording. “I mean, how can you not wonder at the logistics of it?”

“I also wonder at the logistics of cloning and creating advanced AIs that could one day destroy us all, but that doesn’t mean I’m actually going to do it.”

“Because you’re a coward.” Ed reiderates, putting the half eaten poptart, unwrapped, back in the cupboard, because he’s a savage.

“I already feel sorry for the poor ethics committee members who are going to have the misfortune of dealing with your bullheadedness once you start leading your own research projects.”

“Good, somebody has to. Cause I sure as hell won’t.”

“I’m aware.” Roy says with a sigh, making a mental note to sweep his kitchen later. “Are you aware that when we get mice, you’re the one who’s going to have to get rid of them?”

“I’m aware that I’ve been living here for a year and I haven’t seen a single mouse yet. Clearly I’m not as much as a slob as you think.” He retorts, leaving the kitchen behind so he can flop down on the couch in the living room.

Roy’s train of thought is completely thrown off by that statement, and he joins him silently without anymore witty remarks. “... Has it really been a year?”

“Almost. In about a month.” He sighs and closes his eyes, stretched out on the couch like a lazy cat soaking up sunlight. Roy sits on the opposite end, muscle memory commanding him to pick up Ed’s flesh foot and start rubbing, thumbs digging into his pressure points.

“That means it’s your birthday soon. I’ll finally be able to take you out for a drink.” He muses, already trying to figure out which bar Ed would like best.

“Who says I wanna go drinking with you, old man? 21’s a big milestone, I’m supposed to party all night. You like to be in bed by nine.” He mocks him, face scrunching up before the initial pain turns into pleasure, expression melting into a more relaxed state.

“You wound me, Edward. Also, I know for a fact that you’d rather help Professor Izumi grade undergrad papers than stay at a bar all night long.”

“And that’s sayin’ something.” Ed mumbles miserably, lifting up his arms so he can interlock his hands behind his head. “Win and Ling will still make me, though. Nothing says a good time like mandatory fun.” He pauses, then, before looking up at Roy with unsureness in his eyes. “I was joking, you know. You’ll come, right? It’s gonna be miserable anyway, but it will be beyond miserable without you there to distract me.”

Roy smiles at him reassuringly, thumbs pressing into the bridge of his feet as he runs them slowly up and down. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, sweetheart.”

The dusting of pink that coats Ed’s cheeks is delightful, and Roy can’t help but stare at it. He shyly looks away, suddenly very interested in inspecting the couch cushions. Ed never did quite get the hang of pet names, which means Roy uses them as often as possible.

“Sweetie. Sugar. Honey. Pudding. Pumpkin.” Roy’s smirk gets more and more devious as the list goes one, voice dripping with increasing amounts of fake, syrupy sweetness with every word.

That smirk transforms into a wide, laughing grin when he has to raise his arms to block the decorative pillow being hurled at him. He throws it back, of course, though not quite as hard. This turns into Ed holding onto the pillow as he batters Roy with it, which turns into Roy absconding from the couch to get extra ammo from the armchair. That turns into Ed chasing him, which turns into Roy running for dear life, stumbling into their bedroom to grab the bigger, bulkier pillows.

Things only escalate from there, the two of them ducking up and down from hiding behind their sides of the bed, taking pillows to the face and arms and tossing them back across the mattress. Ed’s loud, bright laughter fills the room when Roy vaults up onto Ed’s side of the bed, reaching down to pull him up onto the bed with him. His laugh is highly infectious, Roy laughing along with him as the battle continues in close combat, both their sides and chests getting pummeled by the plump, soft weapons. It ends with Ed collapsing backwards, Roy following and leaning over him as they both keep laughing, faces red from the exertion, panting and breathing in each other’s air as they struggle to catch their breaths.

He’s an absolute vision. Roy could stare down at the beautiful form below him for one hundred years, and still not be able to fully drink in and appreciate every perfect detail of Edward Elric. His chest rises and falls with each labored breath, cheeks a bright red and forehead covered in a thin sheen of sweat, bangs beginning to stick to it. His one thousand watt smile lights up Roy’s life, sparkling eyes more beautiful than any star. A halo of mussed hair frames his chiseled face, ponytail loose from the pillow fight with a multitude of flyaway strands sticking every which way. One strand is caught on Ed’s deliciously plump bottom lip, and Roy brushes it away before reaching behind Ed’s head to pull his hair tie out, letting the silken strands splay out onto the sheets.

“You,” He starts, bringing a hand up to cup Ed’s cheek, “are the most stunning creature I have ever laid eyes on.”

Edward’s smile falls, replaced by a hungry expression as he stares up at Roy through hooded eyes. “Dork. Shut up and kiss me.” Roy couldn’t possibly say no to that.

He braces himself on his hands next to either side of Ed’s head, slotting their lips together easily and naturally. He watched Ed’s eyes flutter close before he lets his own eyes slip shut, letting his other senses take control of drinking in just how wonderful the man under him is.Their lips move together slow and sweet, the soft, wet noises between them lulling Roy into a state of absolute zen. He could stay this way forever if it were up to him, but kisses with Ed would never stay this gentle. It wasn’t long before he felt two strong, muscular arms wrapping around him, pulling him closer and a hungry, searching tongue probing his lips for an opening. Roy surrenders easily, lips parting so he can suck Ed’s tongue into his mouth.

And Ed always kisses like a dying man, hungry and passionate and dizzying in the best of ways, leaving Roy breathless. The slide of their tongues against one another sends a shiver through him, that shiver only intensifying when he feels one of Ed’s hands run up into his hair to grip it at the roots. He responds in kind with a none too gentle nip to Ed’s bottom lip, causing his breath to hitch and his grip on Roy to tighten.

Roy would let him hold on like that forever, if he wanted to.

Luckily for Roy, Ed was always quick to let him know exactly what it was he wanted. He accomplishes it this time by shoving his crotch bodily up against Roy’s, making his rapidly developing interest in the situation known. The boldness alone is enough to make Roy moan, nevermind the tempting hardness that just got jammed against his thigh. Ed could be shy to initiate, but once things got going, Ed certainly got going himself. And who was Roy to deny him?

With well coordinated deftness, he has Ed unbuttoned and unzipped, shoving his boxers aside until he’s got Ed in his hands. Roy was never one to find genitalia all that aesthetically pleasing, but he’d be hard pressed not to find anything about Ed a marvel to look at, and his cock was no exception. Hard and pink tipped, nestled atop a bed of golden curls, pulse thrumming strong and hot through the prominent vein visible underneath…

“Take a picture; it’ll last longer.” Ed chokes out underneath him, eyes dazed and face alight as he bucks impatiently into Roy’s hand. “C’mon, Roy…” He whines so sweetly, and Roy was going to ask if he actually could take a picture, but well, he’s feeling rather distracted from that train of thought all of a sudden.

Long, slender fingers wrap more firmly around the beautiful, dripping cock beneath him, kisses migrating from Ed’s mouth to his neck, only so that he doesn’t block the litany of unrestrained sounds of desire that spill forth from Ed’s kiss bruised lips. The squirming beneath him does nothing to quell Roy’s need, and he can’t help but laugh at the frustrated moan that breaks free from Ed when he stops paying attention to him long enough for Roy to free himself from the constraints of his clothes.

He kisses his apology into the crook of Ed’s neck before taking both of them in his hand, pumping them together and rolling his hips against Ed as his own series of moans left his mouth, muffled against Ed’s sweaty, sweet smelling skin. He wasn’t able to appreciate the smell of a sexed up Edward for long, though, as two rough hands grabbed his face to pull him up into a hungry kiss.

The gasp that draws out of him gets swallowed hungrily by the ravenous mouth set upon him, the pace of his hand and hips quickening as a new desperation sweeps over him. That desperation turns into heat that pools deep within him, and if the frantic jerking of Ed’s cock in his hands is anything to go by, then Ed’s finding himself in a similar state. There’s no coordination anymore, no forethought, just bodies and tongues and lips and cocks rubbing and rolling against each other, slicked by mingling sweat and saliva and pre. The heat and pressure builds up to a point where it’s just almost too much to bear, nerve endings warring over whether to flood Roy’s brain with signals of pleasure or pain.

There’s a brief moment of absolute quiet and stillness below him before hot, sticky slick spills into his hand, a moan like shattering stained glass cracking through the air around them as Ed breaks from their kiss, finding his release. And that’s what Roy needed to finally tip over the edge himself, hips and hand stuttering as his cum mixes with Ed’s, moan muffled once he buries his face in the crook of Ed’s neck.

They stay that way for a while, clinging to one another as they struggle to catch their breaths, riding out the waves of oxytocin. Ed’s the first one to complain of stickiness, as usual, and after quickly discarding their clothes and briefly wiping themselves off, they’re finally snuggled back into bed again. They’re both quiet for the most part, a rarity between the two of them, as they soak up just how perfect an ending that was to a perfect day. Roy’s the first one to break the silence, living up to Ed’s constant insults about his ‘big fucking mouth.’

“Hey.” He takes Ed’s face between both hands, taking a moment to stare at his blissed out, post coitus expression before he breaks into a soft smile. “I love you.”

Flashes of doubt and uncertainty shine through Ed’s eyes, as they usually do when Roy makes such bold declarations. He’s able to settle into a state of acceptance after a moment, though, and Roy dreams of the day he can make that doubt disappear entirely. “Love you, too. Cheesy bastard.” Is Ed’s mumbled response, and how did such a dirty mouthed little brat come to make Roy’s chest swell so?

His amazement is cut short when Ed’s face wrinkles up with a yawn, which is just about the cutest thing Roy’s ever seen. “So,” Ed starts speaking on the tail end of his yawn, “we both have tomorrow off. What do you want to do?” Roy can’t help taking this opportunity.

“The way I see it,” he says with a deep voice, a pathetic, humorous attempt at imitating Venom’s alien growl, “WE can do whatever WE want.”

The sting of the smack he receives to his bicep is absolutely worth the bell like laughter that rings from Ed’s chest, filling the room as it fills Roy’s heart. Roy smiles wide and bright as he realizes there’s not a thing in this world that wouldn’t be worth getting to hear his angel laugh.

#royed #fma #edward elric #roy mustang #myfic

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gigilberry-wips · 6 years

Text

20 Facts About Charlotte (and family) That The Readers Will Not Be Given In The Story

So here I am trying to organize my thoughts and do some character building in order to answer some questions about my oc that someone was very nice to ask and which I still need to come up with answers for, carry on with your business don’t mind me

(for those who’re sticking around to read this, a warning: this is long as heck)

1. Charlie was known as that kid who’d always be full of questions and giving the adults a run for their money “Why do crocodiles have big noses?” “Where does the moon go?” “Why don’t humans have claws? Aren’t they more useful than fingernails?” “Why do people sleep?” “Why are we supposed to do this? Why can’t we do that?” “Why can’t we ask questions? How would anyone learn things if they don’t ask questions??”

2. In her family she’s closest to her older brother. She doesn’t always share her concerns with him but when she comes to him with her thoughts and questions she trusts his words.

3. One time she read in a book where a meal of grilled cheese and tomato soup was described so delectably that for one entire month she insisted on having that at least once a day (it’s like what happened with me and when I read about the ‘bread and butterflies’ from “Through The Looking Glass” and now if anyone ever offered me a towering stack of heavily buttered toast with an ocean of horrifically sugary milk tea I swear I will devour the whole thing no hesitation). She stopped being so vocally fussed with them after that but she never really got over it. So if, whenever she might see either one of those two (or both!!) in the wilds, be it in person or on television or if she just catches the smell of it, and if you happen to be looking at her already then you just might catch her making The. Biggest. Heart Eyes. Like the love of her life has appeared before her and she is going to run into their arms and both of them will head off into the sunset.

4. Her favorite things to get on Christmas and her birthday are “fun science projects for kids”, or puzzle and strategy games, or books that had riddles, secret codes, recipes, more experiments, and especially made-up languages in them. She’s filled entire notebooks with the languages that she’s learnt from books, from Morse Code to Tolkien elvish, and she can easily recall many of them from memory. She knows a lot of the most common kinds of numerical puzzles and algorithms that have been used, and partially due to that and partially because of how good she is in math she frequently makes computer related jokes about herself.

5. Charlie’s brother is doing an internship at a nearby aerospace museum and planetarium. He’s currently studying for a degree in astronomy and engineering and works as one of the technicians there, and about once a month Charlie’s family goes to visit and have a picnic nearby and spend the day there. Since it’s so close, her brother is able to go from home and usually drops her and her friends off to school in the mornings in his old, beat-up car because he’s a good brother and he loves his sister.

6. One time when Charlotte was little (about 7-8) she was loaned a textbook from her school about famous people that she had to do her homework from. Her brother caught her scribbling in it with a pencil one time and found out that she was replacing all the pronouns of the historical figures in it (Mr. Miss Alexander Graham Bell, he she invented, Mr. Miss Albert Einstein, he she discovered, etc.).

(She didn’t really have the words for it back then but essentially she was doing this because all of these Oh So Important People Of History(TM) Who Did Oh So Important Things(TM) were different from her and she was very strongly aware of that and it made her really, really angry. She thought that if the only thing anyone was ever going to teach her was White Man History(TM) and that’s the only thing that ever existed since the dawn of time and that’s the only thing she’d ever learn then she wasn’t just gonna sit there and swallow that like the rest of her classmates, thank you.)

The next day he bought her a book about famous women in history from all around the world. She read it cover to cover and has kept that book with her to this very day. It’s got pictures like this in it too :D -

[image description] Three women (left to right: Indian, Japanese, and Syrian) who graduated from the Women’s Medical College of Pennsylvania in 1886

This is also one of the reasons why she likes Star Trek so much, and why she wants to learn so many languages.

[Edit: if anyone’s wondering, her brother’s the one who erased the pencil marks from her textbook. He told her since she’s the one who did it then she should be the one to remove it. But she refused to do it and she did not say sorry either. He knew she’d get in trouble if he told his parents or anyone about it, or if it was left alone, so he sat down with an eraser and methodically went through the book with it himself.

Charlie neither offered to help nor stopped him (she could’ve if she’d wanted to, she had cheeto crumbs on her fingers and she could’ve smeared them in the book or poked her brother with them but she didn’t); she just attached herself to his side and quietly glared because that textbook is Enemy #1 and no one should touch it as his hand patiently went through page after page and removed all traces of her vandalism]

7. Charlie loves her hair. When she was little one of her favorite shows was My Little Pony (don’t tell anyone but she still has a soft spot for it) and she wanted to have bright, colorful hair just like the other ponies did. One of her cousins was very fashion savvy and when she told her this, her cousin showed her all the fun hairstyles she could do with her own hair instead. She’s been growing out her hair ever since. Now Charlie and her brother are Long Hair Siblings(TM). :D

8. On the other hand, Charlie despises make up. When she was little she noticed that almost the only people that were on make up advertisements were white women, so in her head she thought that meant those pretty women owned the make up companies, right? Well, she looked it up and learned that the people who really owned the companies were not those women but instead ugly old men and that was when she came to the conclusion that advertisements are all full of lies and not to be trusted (also she learnt later that silicone rubber is used in making water proof mascara and her brain is forever scarred with that knowledge and now so is yours :DD)

9. When she got her first loose tooth she heard about the tooth fairy and how she takes teeth and leaves money. So her natural course of action was to look up the price of human teeth online. Then she took the case up with her father and told him all about her findings and how the tooth fairy was basically scamming everybody and should not be trusted. He found this entertaining enough that the morning after she lost her tooth she found a 2 dollar bill under her pillow. She kept it away safely and once she had enough “tooth money” she bought a whole set of glitter gel pens with it.

10. The number of times Charlie’s gone to a party can be counted on one hand, and that’s only because she was forced to go. One such house she’s frequented is one of her aunt’s and after all these years the only name she knows from there is the cat’s, whose name is Toast but she thought that was boring so in her head she renamed her as Clementine. She hasn’t told anyone else that she’s never learnt anyone else’s name but she has the feeling her brother knows.

11. She loves cats. She loves them so much. She was always such a solemn and serious little girl but the moment she saw a cat it’s like watching a toddler wandering after a butterfly. Abso-lutely adorable. She has these knitted cat socks and 2 cat plushies (one more worn than the other) and when she was 11 her parents let her and her brother adopt an orange kitten and she got to name it Tigger after one of her favorite childhood characters. In her friend group there are so many cat puns surrounding her. So many. (half of them are her own btw)

12. Charlotte is bisexual. I remember reading somewhere that it’s unrealistic to just have one lgbt kid all by their lonesome in any story worth telling and I agreed with that. I’ve also heard about the “disaster bisexual” troupe. In my cast of characters the one that fits it the most is Josie, so me being myself I flipped that troupe and instead made the most calm and collected one the bisexual kid (so instead of a disaster bisexual(TM) what we have is a distinguished bisexual(TM), thank you and good night). It’s not mentioned in the story because this story is told from Laila’s point of view and Charlie hasn’t told anyone about her sexuality, not her friends, not her family, not anyone. She learnt about it earlier than Laila did (when she was 13), but like it’s said in her intro she’s a very cautious and private person and it’ll take her a long time to think about something so personal openly let alone talk about it with anyone. I want to talk about this more in a separate post, and I’ve got a one shot planned that’ll focus on this too.

(Edit: so it turns out Charlie is in fact a bit of a disaster human and when I told her she comes off as smart and polished and good at judging people’s intentions she turned around and told me she also hisses under her breath at things she doesn’t like, lives in her room like it’s one giant nest, and sometimes forgets to eat and i find it too annoying to argue with my strong willed daughter so here we are goddamn)

13. For Charlie, feelings are ... awkward. They’re messy and confusing, and when she’s feeling too many things she needs a lot of alone time to sort through them and understand them. It’s not that she doesn’t feel anything, it’s just that she can’t usually identify what she feels from the whirlwind in her head in any proper way. And when people need comforting she doesn’t feel like she’s the best person for the job. But that’s not going to stop her from trying to help; if one of her friends comes to her with a problem then she’s going to help them find logical solutions to those problems. She knows her strengths and she tries her best to use them.

14. She finds it hard to cry. Even when she’s feeling too many things and she really wants to cry (because she thinks maybe that’ll help her, at least it’s scientifically proven to help) the tears won’t always come. Aside from early childhood, she can count on one hand the number of times she’s cried, and half of them are from when she was exhausted or shocked with sudden feelings. The other times feel random to her and often at odds with each other. (She can’t force herself to cry, she can’t fake her own emotions.)

15. One of the few times she remembers crying was the first time she saw the Aurora Borealis. She saw it in a movie theater, not in person, but to her it was like seeing the real thing. She was little at the time and when she saw it she was just - she was overwhelmed. She was overwhelmed with so many feelings, like happiness and beauty and wonderment. When they came out of the theater and her family saw her still crying they all started freaking out, until she tried to explain it to them (she was really choked up but she tried). She remembered describing it something like, “It’s like seeing music ... Mama, I think I saw music.” she counts this as the one time she expressed her words so artistically she doesn’t know how but she did. it was also one of those rare times she was envious of artistic people for being able to express human emotions so well (there’s that part in The Tale of Despereaux when he said that he “heard honey” when what he’d really heard was music that comes to my mind). Later, she was told what the lights were called and she decided then and there that if she ever had a daughter then she’d name her Aurora (no papa, not from Sleeping Beauty, this is different!). It was also around this time that she really got into learning about space.

16. Charlie’s a night owl. She loves being awake when all the world is asleep. She loves the silence and the clarity she feels in her thoughts when there is no one else around.

17. Charlotte has an “all things pink and glitter” obsession that she never quite grew out of and never really plans to. Her room is pink, her glasses are pink, her stationary is pink, most of her clothes are pink, and her favorite Care Bear and My Little Pony characters are also pink.

18. She got her glasses when she was around 10, and she even got to choose them herself. :D The sad thing was that she was only one of 2 kids in her grade who had glasses and the other one was who she considered to be an annoying prat, but the good news was that at least 3 girls in her year got braces and one of them was nice and called her glasses pretty and also she was the only one who’d done her braces sparkly so there.

19. Most her life she never had close friends. She was always considered too smart and aloof for them. She had her nose stuck in books and she always got the best grades in her year. She was also really good at chess and strategy games and not to brag but she’s even one a few awards for this and this quality was always something that alarmed and frustrated people to no end (read: boys who wanted to prank her and various arrogant, would-be bullies) when she would know all sorts of things about them that they never remembered telling her. What they didn’t know was that she gathered all that information just from observing them and listening to what they said. She’s a strategist and a planner and she delights in knowing more than everybody else, making it so that when she wasn’t purposefully faded into the background, she came off as intimidating and scary, and rightly so. You cross her or try to pull any nonsense around her and she’ll make you regret it.

20. Contrary to what I feel might be predictable for her, it wasn’t Hailey (the friendly and cheerful one) or Josie (the smart and sociable one) that pulled Charlie into Laila’s friend group, but instead it was Laila herself. Charlie might not be good when it comes to feelings, both hers and other people’s, but she’s an excellent judge of character. She doesn’t talk to her peers because she’s categorized them as not being her “type”. She sees them and thinks they’re silly and petty and loud and annoying. She gets impatient with how childish and flighty and apparently short of memory they are, how they haven’t yet decided what they want with their life, how they’re all sooooo fussed about what other people want them to be and how they haven’t made up their minds about who they want to be. Dealing with them is boring and somehow oddly exhausting, so she doesn’t waste her time with them.

She and Laila met through circumstance. And what she immediately got from Laila was that she was someone who was filled with something akin to gentle warmth. She saw someone who didn’t judge or expect things from her. Someone who didn’t raise her hackles or crowd her space, both physically and mentally. She saw a person who didn’t pretend to be something she wasn’t, who didn’t really have anything to hide. Most of all, she saw in Laila someone who went about her day with honesty and good will in her actions towards others, who was genuine and caring. Those are things she’s not often found in other people, no matter their age. It’s something that she’s come to appreciate and respect in the rare, rare instances when she does find it. It took a while, but as she got to know Laila and her other friends better and hung out with them more often, she saw that she found a place where she felt like she could breathe.

#tfal: charlie #thrown for a loop #important #character building #oomph #how many hours did i spend on this?#my brain is mush #and i don't even care lol #i've had all these thoughts spinning around in my head for so many weeks now #so like not to be dramatic but i felt like i would l i t e r a l l y c o m b u s t if i didn't get all of this down in print #this was cathartic #and now i don't want to do any thinking for the rest of this evening #(btw the origin of this post is one friendly writer i know and i hope she knows this is all because of her)#aside from that i have one burning question #DO I TAG PEOPLE IN THINGS LIKE THIS? WOULD PEOPLE BE HAPPY TO SEE THINGS LIKE THIS??#I DON'T KNOW AND I'M WAY BEHIND IN FINDING OUT #heck #i really need to make that tagging post

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