#but the sticky note pack got covered in green highlighter :(

[kekithepancake25]

turned hanako and nene into animal crossing turnips >:D

[sigillaria-svt]

Notes from the Moon (University AU)

Pairing: Moon Junhui x Reader

Word Count: 5,637

Warning: None

Genres: fluff,  secret admirer, bestfriend!Minghao, female reader

Synopsis:

Throughout his college life, Junhui has been contented with admiring from afar. It didn’t matter to him that she wasn’t aware, or that nothing was between them except a friendly acquaintance. However, Minghao knew deep inside that Junhui wanted to start moving forward, and thus he provided the starting ground for a series of secret notes that would end up becoming the seed to building Junhui’s confidence.

Junhui wasn't entirely sure when it all started. On his first day in college, he barely knew anyone except Minghao who he went to high school with. He couldn't remember the names of his classmates after they introduced themselves. However, there was one person that made a strong impression on him. Although he didn’t remember her name at first, he was drawn to the way that her eyes seemed to glow with curiosity.

 Because of his bad eyesight, he always wanted to sit in the front along with Minghao, albeit at the far right corner of the room so that he can get away with dozing off just in case it was going to be a long class session. Somehow, with the same mindset, she sat at the front too. At first, it meant nothing to Junhui other than an interesting classmate.

 That is, until he started paying more attention to her, and less attention on the lesson.

 She wasn’t the type that attracted looks at first glance. She was a normal person with a strong sense of passion, but somehow, Junhui didn’t quite know how to act around her. Eventually, he just decided to look from afar, where he knew he didn't have to deal with overthinking what to say and do. It's not like he didn't try to before, either. On some days, he tried to approach her to ask about an assignment or to borrow a pen, but it ended up as small talk that fizzed away after a few sentences.

 Doesn't help that her eyes tended to be fixated on the whiteboard, and not much else.

 In a way, Junhui was thankful that she was always set on the lessons and assignments. He could look at her all day and she wouldn't notice a thing. For a time he was satisfied with just this—just admiring her every day without her knowing anything. It’s not like she was going anywhere. No one else ever showed romantic interest in her either, which gave Junhui all the more reason to continue staying as he was.

 However, feelings can’t always be completely contained, especially if they’ve been growing slowly over a series of months.

 It was a beautiful warm day in June, so Junhui and Minghao took the opportunity to be in the library for most of it. The library had large windows that spanned the entire wall, giving a view of the greenery outside the building. The temperature inside was just right, making it a favorite spot for students who wanted to study in comfort and quietude.

 She was sitting a few tables away, a pair of earphones filling her time with piano music as she prepared to take notes for the test the next day. Junhui sat with Minghao, who was studying seriously while Jun was looking up from his notes once every few minutes.

 "If you keep on looking at her like that, might as well stop studying and look at her for three hours." Minghao said, eyes still fixated on his notes below him.

 "What? I’m not doing that, I'm studying!" Junhui said defensively, careful to make sure that his voice doesn’t go above the appropriate level for libraries.

 "Then what are you looking at?"

 "This book, of course." Junhui responded while indicating the book in his hands.

 Minghao looked over at the page Junhui was on, "Uhuh, and what does it say about the Law of the Minimum?"

 "Hmm, something about a function..."

 Minghao looked at him, "Jun... it's been two years. Are you really just going to stay as an admirer from afar?"

 "I know, I know. I'm just not sure how to approach her. I mean, I know what I want to say and do, but I'm just afraid that I'll mess it up." Junhui scratched the back of his hand. “You know what I mean right?”

 Minghao sighed and put his hand on Junhui's shoulder. "So do you want to make a move or not?"

 Jun raised his eyes and looked around, scared that someone else might overhear them. "Huh?"

 "Come on, I know you do. The silent admirer thing has been fun and all, but you’ve really been getting more restless these past few days, especially when she’s around.”

 "No, I mean yes. I mean...”

 Minghao groaned in slight exasperation, "She's smart, so I'll teach you something that will make sure that she won't stop thinking about you."

 He pulled out a pouch from his bag and took out a stack of green sticky notes. He laid it in front of Junhui along with a pen. Junhui looked at him with confusion, but Minghao simply raised his eyebrows and motioned for him to take it.

 "If you're too shy to talk to her, then you can just write instead." Minghao said.

 Junhui started to panic internally. "But what if she finds out that it's me?"

 "If she finds out, she finds out." Minghao said with a shrug, as if it were no big deal. He tapped on the stacks of sticky notes. "It's not like she memorizes everyone's handwriting. To be honest, you don't write much either, so she isn't going to know."

 Junhui took the pen in his hands and thought hard. He wanted to write something that wouldn’t make it seem like it's him, but something that would pique her curiosity enough for her to keep the note.

 He started writing. I like your shirt. He bit his lip as he finished writing. He looked up at Minghao who looks at Jun as if he just committed a crime.

"Seriously? I like your shirt?"

 Minghao took out the note and crumpled it. "Make it something nicer. Don't think too hard and try again."

 "But..."

 "Did I stutter? Don't think too hard."

 Jun was about to whine, but stopped. He thought about the first thing that he's ever wanted to said to her, but couldn't. He knew that it was somewhere at the back of his head, he just had to put it into words. He thinks about the way that she seems to put all her focus into whatever it is she was doing, about the way she lost track of time working on a project, and in the way that she was excited to answer any question that you threw at her.

 He didn’t understand why simple things about her made him so flustered. The simple existence of a person shouldn’t be making you lose sleep thinking about what things made her happy. Junhui pursed his lips and wrote a simple sentence on the piece of paper.

 Your passion is beautiful.

 He looked at it for a moment, wondering if it would be enough. No, it had to be enough. This was the starting point of everything, not the end. It shouldn’t matter if he messed up now.

 Minghao looked over and smiled at him. "See? I knew you had it in you."

 Just as Jun had finished writing, she took off her earphones and stood up. She headed over to the bathroom with her phone in hand, leaving her textbooks and notes scattered on the table.

 When she's out of sight, Minghao nudges Junhui. Junhui looks at his friend with wide eyes, broken out of his focus on his newly written note.

"Go on and put it on her table while she's not there!" Minghao whispers.

 "What, we're doing this now?" Junhui whispers back.

 "When are you supposed to do it? When we graduate? Go ahead and do it!" 

 Minghao pushed him enough just to get him off his seat. Jun clumsily walked to her table, looking to see if her friends are around. Once Jun saw that it was clear, he quickly stuck the note on one of her open pages and walked back to his table red as a tomato. Jun falls to his seat and covers his face in embarrassment.

 "Was that so bad?" Minghao asked.

 "I can't believe I'm actually doing this." A mess of red blushes covered Jun's face, up to his ears.

 Just then, she got back from the restroom and sat on her chair as she put her earphones back on. She picks up her pen to continue writing, until she noticed the green note that was left on her notebook.

 Minghao pulled Jun's hands away from his face. "Wait, look, she's reading it."

 She took out one earphone and picked up the not, a smile forming over her face as she read the sentence. She looked around to see who might have left it, and Junhui quickly looked back down at his book, pretending not to notice. However, he did take a small peak up from the corner of the book enough to see her tuck the note in one of her notebooks. Minghao gave Junhui a proud smile, but says nothing else.

 For the rest of the afternoon, Junhui watched as the girl he's been liking for the past two years smile widely as she wrote notes and highlighted sentences on her textbook.

 Now, he didn’t have to keep on thinking about what made her happy. Here was there actually doing it by his own efforts.

 Now that he was finally able to say what he always wanted to, it left a soft and fuzzy feeling in his chest. The fact that she kept his note and didn't throw it away makes him even happier.

 He thought about the idea of her ever liking him back. It seemed like a childish thing to think about, but it was the first time he ever put serious thought into things like this. He realized that he has no idea how to even go about finding out, at least not the first time. It's fine if he doesn't find out right away, anyway. He's just happy that he's finally taken the first giant step forward.

 Eventually, she packed up her things and made her way to leave the library. Meanwhile, Jun's eyes followed her around until she's out of sight.

 "I think it's time to go." He says, standing up from his chair.

 Minghao looks up from his book, nodding back to him. "Yeah, me too. So, what do you think? Happy?"

 Junhui says nothing else, opting to give his best friend the biggest smile instead. Minghao didn’t need any words either, he understood Junhui just by the look on his face. So long as his friend was happy, he was more than willing to help him build up his confidence.

 This was just the start of the many notes that Junhui would leave on her books or on her desk whenever she wasn't looking. For all those years that he wasn't able to say anything, he was finally able to put it into words and send it over to her. Every day, Jun would end up excited to write another new note that he would try to sneak in without anyone else noticing. At times, he wrote whatever just came into mind, at times earning a weird look from Minghao because of how cheesy it sounded.

 You look amazing even when you think you don't. If you weren’t aware, now you are.

 I don’t know why, but you look very attractive when you’re focused.

 You've done well, don't forget to rest well and eat well. Congratulations on getting the highest score.

 I hope you don’t mind me admiring you in secret.

 You looked sad yesterday, I hope you’re doing alright. I found out myself that watching puppy videos online cheered me up, you should try it too.

 I like the way that you laugh, it’s very joyful and carefree. I hope you stay happy and healthy all the time.

 On other days, he ended up writing something without much thought. It didn’t bother him—he wanted her to know his thoughts, even those that seem random and out of nowhere.

 The moon was beautiful last night, did you see it?

  I noticed that you really like the color yellow. It’s nice and bright, I like it too.

 I think the chicken came before the egg, but my friend has been bugging me that the egg came first. I wouldn’t know, really, I’m not a bird.

 Are you curious about who I am?

 As much as possible, Jun would try to stay around to check for her reaction. To Jun's satisfaction, it would always leave a smile on her face. That smile was all he needed to continue his hopes of starting something between them. It's not like he could just go up to her and say "Hey, do you have a moment? I’m actually that guy that keeps sending over green sticky notes."

 As much as Jun enjoyed sending notes over, the girl had been starting to grow all the more curious about who this secret person was. It happened one early morning when Jun had arrived at the classroom to stick his note on her desk where she always sat for their first class. However, instead of seeing an empty white desk, he saw a yellow sticky note right where he usually stuck his notes on. 

 Similar to his own notes, she wrote a message:

 Who are you?

 She had also written her name and class on it. Now that she had asked, he wasn't going to reply with just his name, he wasn't ready for that just yet. To be honest, he was just delaying the process, but that was fine by him. What could he say?

 Not wanting to make it too obvious, he wrote down a riddle instead. She's smart enough to get good marks on their tests, so Jun was sure she would figure this out in no time. However, he wanted to make it vague enough to just reveal a bit. Jun took out the pen in his pocket and wrote:

 You can find me at night if you look up in the right direction.

 He took off her note and placed it carefully into his notebook before replacing it with his own green note. He quickly walked out of the room, heart beating fast. He didn't expect her to respond in that way, but he was happy that she was getting interested.

 Just as he had predicted, he saw her at the classroom later that morning. There were a group of students gathered at the front of the room, but she still managed to catch his eye. However, this morning was louder than usual, with her friends surrounding her in excitement.

 "They left a riddle?!" One of her friends said, leaning in to read the note. "As if he, or she, wasn't already mysterious enough."

 "What does it say?" The one who had asked the question for everyone else now asks her.

 "It says you can find me at night if you look up in the right direction."

 One of her friends crossed his arms. "Probably one of those night owls that spend their time in those 24/7 cafes until morning. Explains why they always seem to give you notes early in the morning when no one's around."

 Jun gave a small chuckle as he listened in from one corner of the room. The only reason why he was able to put in those notes early is that he lives in the dorm right across from their campus. He just went in before anyone else arrived at the room and returned to the dorm to go back to sleep. Junhui continued to listen in as the group tried to unravel the riddle.

 "So, what's the answer?" One of the guys asked.

 Before she could respond, someone else answered for her. "Don't you think it has something to do with the sky?"

 Shee points upward as if the answer is right there. "Either way, we have the first-period class in 10 minutes, so we better hurry and solve this." The first one said, turning around.

 After a few moments of trying to think of the possible answers, the first person spoke again. "Hey, why don't we just... Call him out on it? I mean, if he's been leaving all of these notes on your desk, then he probably knows where you sit all the time. He's got to be a classmate."

 Junhui's heart started to race. He knew that if they just try hard enough, they're bound to figure out that it's him, especially since her group of friends is quite large. All they really need is just the time to check the handwriting and ask around. Someone must have seen him at least once or twice with the pad of green sticky notes.

 "Yeah, but where's the fun in that?" She said with a laugh, to Jun's relief. "I want to try and figure out who they are based on their hints."

 "You're just making this harder for yourself, you know?"

 "I mean, if they wanted me to know who they were right away, then they would have just approached me right then and there." She tucked in the sticky note in her notebook, which was now filled with all of Jun's other secret notes. "Let's try to figure it out more after class."

 As the topic is changed, Jun felt relieved. He wouldn't have been able to concentrate in class with everyone trying to figure out the riddle right beside him.

 However, Jun was feeling a bit braver today than usual. In one of their classes, they were free to work on their task however they wanted so long as everyone stayed inside the classroom. Jun and Minghao managed to find a spot in the classroom next to where the girl was sitting. She was typing something on her laptop, but her notebook was right beside her with some of the green papers peeking out.

 Minghao decided to join in on the plan. "Hey, I heard about the commotion before class. Have you really been exchanging notes with this mystery person?"

 "Yeah, why?" The girl said without looking up from the laptop.

 "How does it feel?" He said, leaning towards her.

 "How does what feel?"

 “Ahh, come on, I know you know what I’m talking about.” Minghao crossed his arms. "How does it feel to get notes from someone you don't know?"

 "It's nothing special." She said, not sounding enticed at all by his question.

 Junhui's heart drops for a bit, and Minghao tries not to give him a look.

 "If someone I barely knew was leaving me notes, it would definitely mean something." He said, trying to take a different route. “It’s exciting, isn’t it?”

 The corners of her mouth go up, trying to suppress a smile.

 "See?" Minghao said, half at her and half at Junhui. Her face started to turn red and she turned around to face away from Minghao.

 Her shoulders started to shake as she tried not to laugh. "Would you go away already?" She laughs, turning off her laptop and standing up. "It's nothing special, I just find it kind of cute that this person, whoever they are, is so clueless about how I feel."

 Minghao and Junhui exchange looks. She's definitely not confessing anything to them.

 "Ahhh, come on. How long have you had those notes from him?"

 "A while now." She answers, picking up her bag and laptop. She grabs her things and walks past the two of them, turning her head to look at them.

 "So what's the deal then?" 

 "We’ll see once I figure it out." She said finally, giving one last glance at the two boys. She briskly walked to the front of the room, passing her flash drive to the professor before she headed out of the room.

 Junhui finally released the breath that he never realized that he was holding. He leaned back in his chair as the professor reminded them that they have 20 more minutes to pass their outputs.

 "She likes you." Minghao said quietly.

 "Shut up." Jun said, but he can't help but smile.

 Just like that, Jun had been dropping small hints about himself. It made him really excited to see that she was also enjoying it. Her friends became just as invested as she was, but she always made sure that they wouldn't try to do a stakeout to figure out who the mystery writer was. On the other hand, Minghao had been working with Junhui to make it even more exciting. The idea came to him one night while they were hanging out at Junhui's dorm.

 "What about we attach a QR code and make it into a kind of treasure hunt?" Minghao said as he takes a bite of his chicken salad.

 "A QR code to what?"

 "To a music playlist." Minghao opened up the Spotify app on his phone. “They’ll enjoy trying to figure out each song. I’m pretty sure she isn’t the type to just listen casually to songs without understanding what the lyrics mean.”

 "Wait, isn't she going to know that I made it?"

 "Not if we make a new account to make it all anonymous." Minghao replied. "So, do you want to try it out and see their reaction tomorrow?"

 Junhui thought it through, kind of shy at the idea of making a playlist for someone. However, he went along with it. He tried his best not to include songs that would immediately give him away. With Minghao's help, he eventually printed out the QR code and stuck it on the sticky note. Junhui took out his pen and wrote above the code:

 It looks like you're really trying hard to figure out who I am. Check this out.

Then he got really nervous and turned the notepad over. Minghao gave him a look, but Junhui only rolled over on his bed, flustered at the idea. Junhui paused for a moment with his face buried in the pillows. "Okay, alright, I'll do it. I can do it."

 "Good." Hao hit him on the leg before getting up to clean his plate.

 The next day, the reactions were just as Minghao expected them to be. One of her friends immediately took out their phone to scan the code, ecstatic to find themselves at a Spotify playlist.

 At this point, they still didn't know who the secret admirer was, but one of them was starting to think it was Junhui. Although they never saw him put the notes on himself, Junhui always seemed to be around the area whenever she got the notes.

 However, they were never really able to find enough evidence that it was Jun, so it was all left as a theory on their side.

 Although the notes were there every single day for the past month, Jun suddenly stopped sending them. This wasn't because he was losing the mood for it, but because he wanted them to actually start figuring out who he was. He was happy that she had been getting curious, but he wanted to start going beyond just leaving notes on her table every morning. He wanted to go up to her and talk without getting shy, to hold her hand instead of imagining it. He didn’t expect that his feelings would grow like that.

 That's why he needed time. Time for them to actually talk to each other and not be simple classmates anymore.

 For the next two weeks, the notes just stopped, and they were left with only the Spotify Playlist as a hint for who the secret admirer was.

 They talked about it in class, some thought it might be a fellow student, while others thought it was too vague and might be someone outside of school. Fearing that she forgot about it, Jun left one final note for her to unravel.

 Junhui stood in the dim room early in the morning, pen and sticky note pad in hand. He leaned on the desk and writes his final message.

 Do you know who I am now?

 Jun paused for a moment, before adding the first hint he'd ever sent her.

 You can find me at night if you look up in the right direction.

 It was perfect for the occasion. There was going to be a full moon tonight with cloudless skies. She'd surely be able to find the moon. His last name isn’t necessarily the most common one out there. She should be able to figure that the moon was meant to point to him, Moon Junhui.

 And so, he left the notes for her. Jun quickly returned to his dorm. He was too nervous to go back to sleep and ended up playing games on his phone in an attempt to pass the time.

 However, when he went into class that morning, there seemed to be no fuss. The note was nowhere to be found and she was studying on her desk like she normally would.

 Anxiously, he glanced around, but there's nothing out of the ordinary. His heart began to race. Did she find his clue? Did she realize who he is? He'd have no way of finding out. The rest of the day felt like walking through the mud as Junhui tried to hold himself back from outright approaching the girl and declaring himself to be the secret writer all along.

 He was too nervous that he wouldn't know how to explain himself if she really did figure out who he was. At the same time, he wanted to finally take the next step forward, still slightly scared of how she might actually react.

 Just as he was about to lose all hope, the full moon finally appeared in the sky. Jun was on his way back to the dorm when he received a call from an unregistered number. "Hello?"

 "Did you run out of sticky notes? Is this why you haven't been sending me notes for the past few weeks?

 Jun stood frozen in the middle of the sidewalk. It was her. She finally figured it out. He opened his mouth to speak, but he didn't know what to say without stuttering.

 Jun stood there for a good ten seconds before the girl spoke up again, "Hello? Is this Junhui? Did I get the right number?" She started to hum some song on the other end, not hearing the silence from his end.

 "Uh, yeah...erm..." Jun managed to spit out. "How did you find out?"

 "Having 'moon' as the title of your playlist wasn't exactly the most mysterious thing, you know?" She said with a bright tone. “How I figured it out is a long story, so let’s just say that you sound a lot like the notes you were putting up.”

"So you've known for quite a while now?"

 "Yeah, I just didn't want to do anything yet before... checking out a few things." She pauses for a moment. "Are you free right now?"

 "Uh... yeah I am." Junhui managed to spit out, a bit more steadily than before now that he’s gotten himself together.

 "Good, because we need to talk. Don't be so scared, It's not bad news." She laughs at the other end. "Meet me at the department lobby in ten?"

 Jun gave her a small yes and dropped the call. With shaky hands, he quickly dialed Minghao and told him all about it.

 "Well, isn't that good? You're finally getting to where you want." His friend said nonchalantly.

 "That's the point! I didn't know it was suddenly going to happen like this!" Junhui paced back and forth. "I'm going to be a stuttering mess, I didn't prepare for this! Well I mean, I wanted this, but it’s just…AH!!"

 "Look, you're going to be fine. You're just nervous, that's all."

 "...Can't you come with me?"

 "Huh? Jun, I'm just going to be an awkward third wheel. You need to go to her yourself. I'm going to hang up, good luck."

 "Wait, no, Hao--" Before Jun could continue, his friend ended the call, leaving him alone in his nervousness.

 He had to go do this himself. If he didn't, he'd always regret it. Junhui gave himself a few slaps on the face before turning around to head back into their building.

 The lobby was found right at the entrance of their building. It had a small indoor garden with a few benches and tables. Jun fidgeted with his phone as he stepped in, looking for the familiar figure that he had been watching over all this time.

 When Junhui found her, he held his breath.

 This is it. This is finally it.

 She turned her head to look at him, smiling at him. She was sitting on one of the benches, her notebook filled with Junhui's notes on her lap.

 She stood up and walked towards him. "Hi."

 "H-hello." Jun says nervously, taking a small step back. "So you finally found out, huh?"

 "Well it wasn't that hard to figure out. It wasn't until I started noticing that you've been staring at me a lot during our classes that I was definitely sure that it was you."

 "I do?" He knew that he absolutely was, but he wasn’t aware that it was actually that obvious to her.

 "Yeah, you do. But I didn't mind it, if that's what you're wondering." She answers as if it was the most normal thing in the world to say. "One question though, why?"

 "Why what?"

 "Why do you like me? As far as I know, I'm not really the kind of girl that gets all the guys riled up. Being a study freak doesn’t really scream girlfriend material, you know? As far as I’m concerned, I even hear that people get intimidated by me for reasons I can’t really pinpoint.”

 "I... Eh..."

 "Don't worry about it, I'm not mad."

 A small laugh escaped from Junhui's mouth. "No, I don't think you would be."

 The girl looked at him patiently as Junhui takes a few moments to compose his thoughts. "Well, you're smart and outspoken, but I don't think that's something I should be intimidated about. I actually think it's pretty incredible that you stand up for what you believe is right. I don't know if you see it or not, but you become different when you concentrate on your work, well I mean, in a good way, of course."

 "You really think so?" She asked in disbelief, as if she didn't have a kind word for herself.

 "Yeah, I really think so." He nods, being completely sincere.

 The girl tilted her head a bit as if considering his compliments. Then, she returned her attention to her notebook.

 "You know, these notes really meant a lot to me." She said with a small voice. "I've been having a difficult time these past few months, but I didn't really tell anyone about it. Just when I was really getting sick of everything, your notes suddenly popped up into my daily life. For that, thank you so much."

 "You're welcome." Junhui pressed his lips together. "Do you mind if I ask you a question in return?"

 "Go ahead."

 "What do you think about me?" The question was out of his mouth before he could stop it. He immediately clamped his lips and cheeks shut, waiting for her answer.

 She laughed. "Don't be so nervous." She told him. "Well to be honest with you, I'm not yet sure. It's really the first time someone liked me in this way. I tried to think about it to settle my feelings, but I always get caught up doing something else in the middle of it. If anything... I guess you make me happy in a way?"

 "I make you happy?" He could barely believe she said that.

 "Yeah, that's it. You can make me really happy, or at least that's what I think you're capable of doing."

 "That's, that's great!" Junhui felt like he was floating.

 "I'm glad that it made sense to you." She grinned. "I don't know if I'd call it love just yet. Would you give me time to think it through?"

 "Uh, of course." He nodded. "I'd hate for you to make a hasty decision just because I reached out to you."

 "Alright. Thank you, Junhui."

 The both of them stood there in silence for a few seconds. Just ecstatic to know how they felt about each other. After all the initial anxiety and sneaking around, everything finally felt that it was worth it. Sure, he didn't know if she would ever reciprocate his feelings in the same way, but now that the cat's out of the bag, he felt that there really was something waiting for them at the end of the road. 

 Junhui can't help but smile like a kid.

 "Why are you looking at me like that?" The girl asked.

 "I'm just in shock. That's all." He smiles.

 She gives a small chuckle and looks away. "Your personality is very adorable, are you aware? If not, now you are."

 "Huh? What? Oh! No. Well, I mean I know, but I'm just surprised someone told me." He laughed nervously. Junhui cleared his throat. "So, do you want to grab some dinner with me? I know all the good Chinese restaurants around campus."

 The girl smiled. "I'd love to."

 That was the start of it all. At first, Junhui regretted not telling her earlier, but now he understands that it was just the perfect time for it. He was happy enough to have her by his side, slowly figuring out the complex intricacies of her personality one small piece at a time. It was a joy to know her, and an even greater joy to fall in love with her. It didn't matter that they were taking slow steps, what mattered to him is that they find peace in the pace that the other was on.

 This was more than enough for him.

[captainlilyuniverseworld]

Happy Birthday Sam

Title: Happy Birthday Sam

Square Filled: CEO AU

Ship: Sam Wesson/Dean Smith

Tags: CEO AU, Smith/Wesson AU, CEO!Sam, HR!Dean, Sick!Dean, Based on It’s A Terrible Life with a few changes. 

Summary: It’s CEO of Sandover Publishing, Sam Wesson’s birthday. Dean’s home sick and Sam got a few fires to put out at work, but they still manage to spend some time together. 

Word Count: 2115

Created for: @spnaubingo

AN: I went over this thing about five times so any mistakes are mine. Enjoy!

Happy Birthday Sam

“Happy birthday Mr. Wesson.” 

Sam jumped startled as Becky appeared in front of him with a card. “I took the liberty of having everyone in the office sign a birthday card for you.” 

“Thanks, Becky…” Sam awkwardly took the card from her. 

“Hard to believe you’re turning thirty-six today, you hardly look a day over twenty-eight,” she added. 

He raised an eyebrow at her. “...How do you know I’m turning thirty-six?” 

She blushed and tapped her headset. “Sandover Publishing House. How may I direct your call?” She gave Sam an apologetic smile before she hurried off back to the receptionist’s desk. 

He shook his head and walked down the hall to his office. He flipped on the lights as he stepped inside and went over to his desk with the intention of turning on his computer and paused when he saw the flowers on his desk. It was a mixed bouquet and lavender and orange roses tied together with a bow in a clear vase. 

Sam picked up the small card attached to the vase and read the small note. Happy Birthday was written on the card in neat calligraphy. He tucked the card back in amongst the flowers and looked up at the knock on his door. 

“Morning Rowena,” he smiled at the older woman. “No Dean this morning?” 

“Poor dear’s at home sick as a dog,” she answered. “He wanted to make sure you took a look at the candidates for the assistant head of IT position. Though we both agree Miss Bradbury is the best choice for the job.” 

“Well at least he took his sick days this time instead of trying to work through it like before,” Sam told her. 

He flipped through the files Rowena had given him and then handed them back. There was a green tab sticky on the second file, usually Dean’s indication who would be the best fit. Red was ‘No way in hell’ and yellow meant ‘with a little work they’d be good’. 

“If Dean says she’d be a good fit, then give her a call and schedule a drug test and background check,” Sam told her. “I trust his judgment. He hired me after all.” 

“Wonderful, we’ve already got her scheduled for next Monday,” Rowena told him. “Oh, and before I forget. I left you a little something in your second drawer. Happy birthday Sam.” 

He started to protest but she was already gone. He sighed and opened the second drawer of his desk and saw a gold gift bag. He peeked inside and saw an assortment of various candles. He made a mental note to send her a thank you card. 

Sam reached for his phone as it started ringing and leaned back in his chair 

“Wesson speaking,” he answered. 

“I can’t do it.” 

Sam rolled his eyes. “Can’t do what Chuck?”

"I can't do it. Speak in front of all those people, what am I supposed to say?" The man asked. "What if I say the wrong thing? What if they don’t like the new book?” 

"You'll be fine Chuck," Sam told him. "It's a simple interview. Answer a couple of questions, announce the publication date for the new book. Take some pictures with a few fans, you'll be home by 9 pm to chat with Mistress Magda." 

"Okay," the man took a deep breath. "Okay. Thanks, Sam...and Happy Birthday. I uh, I forgot to get you a gift." 

"Don't worry about it," Sam answered. 

He hung up and turned his attention to be his email to get started on work. He was tempted to shoot Dean and email and see how the other man was doing. Even if he was home sick, Dean was a workaholic at heart. 

He grabbed his phone as it started ringing again. 

“You’ll be fine Chuck, ” Sam said by way of greeting. 

“...It’s Cas..” Castiel replied. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Sam apologized. “Chuck called about his interview, but that’s not important. What’s up?” 

“There was an issue with the printers,” Castiel answered. “The book covers, they’re uh…” he trailed off awkwardly. 

“I’m on my way,” Sam told him. 

He hung up and made his way down to the receiving bay. Castiel was at one of the tables with one of the large boxes of books open, a few stacked next to him, and packing peanuts on the floor. 

“What’s the problem Cas?” Sam asked 

Castiel wordlessly handed Sam one of the books and Sam snorted as he looked at the cover 

“...At least it’s tasteful?” Sam added. 

“We can not put these on the shelves, no matter how...tasteful,” Castiel replied. “Adler would have a fit. He’s still upset about that petition that went around a few months ago when we announced the reprinting of books 1-5.” 

“Adler can suck on a lemon,” Sam said bluntly. “How many were printed?” 

“Just a couple hundred for Chuck’s book signing on Saturday,” Castiel answered. “I tried to call the printers, but there was no answer.” 

“Of course there wasn’t,” Sam sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. “Just...put these in my office for now. I’ll go over to the printers and see if I can’t give Lucifer a kick in the ass.” 

Castiel nodded and started to put the books back in the box. “Oh, and happy birthday Sam. Did the flowers survive the night okay?” 

“The roses? They weren’t delivered this morning?” Sam asked. 

“Last night,” Castiel answered. “I saw them outside your door, so I put them in your office before I went home last night. Someone must like you.” 

“What do you mean?” Sam asked. 

“Well, lavender roses usually mean that someone has a crush on you. And Orange means that they’re proud of you. So whoever got them for you must like you and the man that you are. Or they just liked the color combination,” Castiel answered. 

“Thanks...I think,” Sam nodded and went back to his office to grab his keys.

He drove to the printers and followed the sound of loud rock music to the offices on the second floor. He turned off the stereo and dropped one of the books on Lucifer’s desk. 

“Real mature Lucifer. What’d you do? Find some fan art online and switch out the real picture we sent over?” Sam crossed his arms over his chest. 

“Like it’s that different from the actual cover photo,” Lucifer smirked. 

“You know this is illegal right? What if these had made their way to the bookstore instead? Sandover could’ve been sued by the original artist,” Sam told him. 

“Cas would’ve caught it, don’t get your panties in a twist,” Lucifer rolled his eyes. “I’ve already got Crowley printing out the books with the right covers. You’ll have them tomorrow afternoon you fuddy-duddy.” 

“You are a monumental pain in my ass you know that?” Sam said. 

“Who? Me?” Lucifer smiled innocently. “By the way, this is for you.”

He set a wrapped bottle on the table and Sam picked it up cautiously. “What is it?” 

“Just open it would you,” Lucifer told him. 

Sam tore off the paper and raised an eyebrow at the bottle of tequila. “If you find your new age hard to swallow just add some tequila.” He read off the note that was taped onto the bottle. 

“Consider it a birthday gift from me and Crowley,” Lucifer added. 

"Thanks," Sam smiled a bit. "...and it was a little funny. But please refrain from trying to get my place of work sued." 

"Yeah yeah yeah," Lucifer waved his hand dismissively. 

Sam turned the stereo back on, on his way out, and drove back to work. 

"Happy birthday Sammy." Gabriel thrust a small wrapped package into his hand. "Don't open it till you're alone okay." He winked and walked off. 

Sam shook his head as he walked back to his office and set the tequila and Gabriel's present on the coffee table. He turned his computer back on and pulled up the website from the café that was down the street to order his lunch. 

He looked up at the knock on his office door and saw one of the delivery people from the café. 

"Turkey BLT and medium Caeser salad with a strawberry banana smoothie?" The guy asked as he read off the receipt. 

"Uh...yeah…" Sam stood up and went to meet him. "But I didn't, I haven't even ordered yet." 

"Looks like someone bought you lunch," the younger man said. 

Sam took the food and tipped the guy before he went back to his desk. He looked at the roses, and at his lunch. He wasn't sure if he should be flattered or weirded out. He was too hungry to care and he dug into his lunch. He picked up Gabriel's gift and unwrapped it. 

From the man that brought you Casa Erotica, the novelization comes a new series set in the steamy world of office romances. Featuring Dan Hanson and Sean Blythe. 

Sam grabbed his phone and called Gabriel. 

"Did you write an erotic novel about me and Dean?" Sam asked when the line picked up. 

"Don't flatter yourself, Sam. Sure Dan's got your build and maybe Sean's got Dean's boyish charm, but that is where all similarities end," Gabriel told him. 

"You realize if Dean sees this he is going to massacre you," Sam replied. 

"Guess it’s a good thing Deano’s home sick today,” Gabriel mused before he hung up. 

Sam hid the manuscript in the bottom drawer of his file cabinet and locked it for extra measure. He’d get rid of it later...after he read it. He pulled up the highlights from the previous night’s football game and used it as background noise as he ate his lunch and finished going through his emails. 

He was getting ready to throw the trash away when he saw a message typed out in the notes section of the receipt for his lunch. 

Enjoy the rabbit food Rapunzel. Don’t work to hard, it is your birthday after all.  

He smiled and knew exactly who’d gotten him the flowers and his lunch. 

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

Sam hoped it wasn’t too late as he rode the elevator to the third floor. He had a bag of takeout in one hand and a few movies in the other. He stepped off the elevator once it reached the third floor. He shifted the movies to his other hand as he knocked on the apartment marked 3F and smiled when Dean answered the door. 

He was wearing an old Led Zeppelin t-shirt with a pair of sweats and a large thick comforter wrapped around him. 

“Sam?” He asked hoarsely. “What are you doing here?” 

“I wanted to say thank you for the flowers, and for lunch,” Sam answered. 

He couldn’t tell if Dean blushed or if his face was red because it was sick. 

“Although you didn’t have to do that,” Sam added. 

Dean shrugged a little. “I wanted to do something nice for your first birthday together...I would’ve baked you a cake but vertigo’s a bitch.” He broke off with a cough. “I’m glad you liked the flowers though. I almost went with red but it seemed a bit to cliché, and I didn’t want you to think Becky got them for you.”

“Shockingly Becky was pretty tame today,” Sam told him. “I went by that deli you like and picked up some of their chicken noodle soup. I also rented us a few movies, I would’ve liked to use the gift certificate Adler gave me for a way too overpriced steak, but we can go when you’re feeling better.” 

“Sam...you really don’t want to spend your birthday night with a sick person,” Dean started to protest. 

“Well, considering it’s my birthday, you don’t really get a say of who I get to spend it with now do you?” Sam asked. “Now get your ass back on the couch.” 

“Don’t make me laugh, my throat feels like sandpaper,” Dean told him. 

Sam walked into the apartment and shut the door behind him while Dean tried to clean up around the couch. Sam got one of the movies set up and grabbed a bowl for the soup, and joined him on the couch. 

“Happy birthday Sam,” Dean told him. “I promise next year will be a lot better.” 

“You know? All things considered, this one turned out to be pretty good,” Sam replied as he got comfortable. 

“You wouldn’t happen to know why Gabriel asked me to pick between Sean and Sheene would you?” Dean asked as he ate his soup.

“Nope, no idea,” Sam answered. 

“Such a weird little man,” Dean mused as Sam wrapped an arm around him. 

[vicunaburger]

Admittedly, I’m Hard to See

Fandom: Beetlejuice the Musical Chapters: 8/? Pairing: Beetlejuice x OC (Holidae) The Players: Beetlejuice, Lydia Deetz, Holidae Bell Word Count: 1,741 Warnings: M for Language and Suggestive Content

Notes: GETTING SPICY.

Chapter 8: In Which Courtship is an Abstract Concept

The dynamic in the house started to change after the photograph was taken.

Holidae found the image of her seemingly floating in mid air quote “haunted as fuck”, but relented when Lydia declared her intentions to use it in her next art show. If Beetlejuice had any sort of opinion on the photograph, he kept it to himself, much more interested in the fact that Lydia seemed happy and willing to talk to him again.

The three housemates began a routine of sorts over the next few weeks: Lydia and Holidae would take care of the household chores, while BJ… really didn’t contribute anything besides the occasional prank and conversations during mealtime. He was given the important task of planning their weekly movie night, which he was extremely proud of himself for excellent choices in cinema.

Nine times out of ten he would choose The Exorcist.

Holidae, being rather unsubtle, avoided being alone with the ghost; taking great pains to make sure Lydia was always in the room, or just outright pretending she didn’t notice him when he caught her alone. It was a childish response, she knew, but that didn’t stop her from going along with her scheme.

Lydia spent most of her time preparing for the fall art show held in the next county over from Winter River, snapping candid shots during the evening hours throughout the house, or going out to shoot some more natural subjects. Until she had finished with her collections, Holidae was stuck in a bit of design limbo; unable to try and work up plans for her friend’s exhibit without knowing the theme of what Lydia was aiming for.

“You’ll know when it’s done,” Lydia told her one evening, packing up her camera to take on another visit to the local cemetery.

Holidae followed her into the front entryway, “Do you even know how big the space we need is going to be? Or how many photos this time? I can’t just… magic square footage. Let me come with you, at least; just to see what you’ve been shooting?”

Lydia shrugged, “Relax. I’ll be home soon, and I’ll show you what I have so far. Besides, you have Beej to keep you company. Why don’t you read that book you got the other day? One of those trashy things full of kissy faces and torn bodices?”

“Hey, they have a plot… sometimes.” Holidae waved her out the door, “Don’t get eaten by zombies, I don’t want to stuff bits of you into a casket. Too sticky.”

Lydia stuck her tongue out as she closed the door behind her, leaving Holidae alone - sort of - in the house for the time being. Beetlejuice hadn’t made an appearance since that morning over breakfast, but that didn’t stop the paranoia of him just… popping up when she least expected him to.

Dramatically throwing herself onto the living room sofa, Holidae pulled her book out from under a stack of paperwork on the coffee table, flipping it open to the page she had dogeared earlier. Sure, her taste in literature wasn’t always going to win a Pulitzer prize, but there was nothing more satisfying than just losing all thought in a steamy, badly written romance novel. She got herself comfortable, propping her head up with a pillow, and stretching her legs out on the soft couch cushions.

Holidae was so engrossed in her novel, that she failed to noticed the sudden weight that settled itself between her legs. Beetlejuice had noticed Lydia’s departure, taking it upon himself to find some entertainment with his other living roommate. He wasn’t oblivious to the fact that Holidae had been avoiding him since the roof incident; but whether it was because of the attempted murder, or the subsequent moment Lydia had caught them in afterward was hard to pinpoint.

Beetlejuice wrapped his arms around her midsection, resting his head by accident of course, on the cushion of her breasts. He could feel her tensing underneath him, shifting her position, but didn’t outright attempt to move him. She merely flipped another page of her book, lifting the novel a little higher so that he had room to lay his head down.

“Okay, really? You have an dead guy with his face in your tits and you’re just going to keep reading?” Beej headbutted her sternum with force. “Pay attention to me.”

Holidae thwapped him on top of his head with her book, “Shush. It’s just getting good. Besides, what could I possible do against you? I can’t move you, I don’t have any holy water to sprinkle on you, if I make a fuss you’ll just find some other way to annoy me… have I missed anything?”

He hummed, wiggling his body against hers, “No, that pretty much covers it.”

“See?” She flipped another page.

With a pout, he snatched the book out of her hands, adjusting his position so that he was straddling her hips. She tried to get it back, but he held it up above his head, shoving her back down on the sofa with his free hand.

“What is this… oh my god, this is why you’re ignoring me?” He laughed, showing off his mouthful of sharpened teeth. “Oh, we mustn't meet like this~ the scandal will be too great! She cried, throwing herself onto the chaise”

Holidae clawed at his jacket, trying to knock him off balance, “Give it back!”

In a puff of smoke, Beetlejuice was no longer sporting his favored suit, instead dressed in a striped black and white cotton shirt that was unbuttoned to the middle of his chest. A breeze somehow ruffled through his hair, adding to the dramatic effect. Holidae stuffed a pillow over her face, muffling the fit of giggles she burst into at his new appearance.

“Ah~ fair not, sweet dove, I have taken great pains to ensure we will not be discovered~” He reached down and took the pillow off her face, tossing it across the room. “It’s goddamn rude to not pay attention when someone is delivering this calibre of performance. Ahem. Now! I beg of thee, a simple kiss will not sustain me this night.”

Unable to contain herself, Holidae clutched her stomach in laughter, cackling at his theatrical display. She didn’t know why it was so funny to her; by all accounts it wasn’t the most unique humor, but something about him just set her off into a fit.

“Oh my God/Satan… I did it!” Beej stopped his recitation, tossing the book over his shoulder, and grabbing Holidae’s face with both hands. “I got you laughing. Geez, I didn’t think you had a sense of humor for a while, ya know? The whole uptight anxiety ball thing.”

She tried to pry herself out of his grasp, feeling his icy hands squish her cheeks, “Maybe you just aren’t funny most of the time. Let go, your hands are all dirty.”

“What? Dirty? Me? Excuse you, but I am not merely dirty. I am gross and proud. Look at me, baby; look at how gross. Really get in there up close and appreciate it.” He pulled her head closer, rubbing his scratchy beard stubble against her cheek. “Takes years of work. My morning beauty routine is legendary. Oh~ you’re warm. Nothing like a warm body sometimes, you know what I mean?”

“No no no. Stop. Don’t. I’m allergic to mold.” Holidae squirmed around, feeling his fluff of hair start to tickle her nose. “You want my lungs collapsing in on themselves? What are you going to tell Lyddy when she finds me puffy and dying? Get off.”

“Oh, I am definitely trying to do just that, Holiday Greetings,” Beetlejuice doubled his efforts, going so far as to lick a stripe of skin from her jaw to her ear, “You’ll be fine, that stuff hasn’t grown for years. You know what does grow? It’s my-”

“Don’t you dare. I mean it. You finish that sentence and I’ll kick you square in the crotch.” She managed to free one of her hands, covering his mouth with her palm. “Don’t test me, Juice.”

The demon gave a sharp bite against the flesh of her hand, causing her to yelp and move away, “My hair.”

Holidae had expected many inappropriate endings to his sentence. Most of them concerned the area she had threatened with violence just moments beforehand, but nothing prepared her for the sheer audacity of the response he actually gave. She had walked right into his joke, and proved that she was the one thinking unwholesome thoughts about his anatomy.

Beetlejuice 1, Holidae -100

Taking her silence in stride, Beetlejuice snapped his fingers, setting the two of them in a more comfortable position on the sofa, and changing back into his normal attire. Of course, his idea of comfortable was having Holidae perched on his lap with one hand pressing against her lower back, and the other holding her thigh… to balance. Didn’t want her to fall on the coffee table.

“Holli,” Beetlejuice tried to put on his best stern expression, “You were thinking I was going to say something naughty, weren’t you? For shame! What kind of influence are you having on my bestest best friend? What kind of upbringing did you have to think such thoughts about me? No, seriously, I want to find your parents and thank them.”

“You have my undivided attention, Lawrence, don’t waste it. Now, what can I do for you? Are you bored? I can get you one of my books to read. Or there’s a pack of cards in Lyddy’s room.” Holidae blinked slowly, reaching out and brushing a stray curl off of his forehead without much thought.

The reaction was instant.

Beetlejuice’s hand snapped up and grabbed Holidae’s wrist before she could pull away, and he stared at her intently. Small, thin strips of pink highlights started to run through his hair, swirling around in a mix of green and dark emerald. Unsure of what he was thinking, Holidae stayed still and quiet, not wanting a repeat of the last time he held her with such intensity.

He still held her fast, shrugging in a very trying-to-be-nonchalant-and-failing manner, “Nothing. Just didn’t want you to have any peace and quiet.”

She frowned, watching the pink continue to invade his hairline, “There were easier ways of doing that.”

“Yeah, but not as fun.” He pulled her dangerously close, almost touching noses with her.

For a moment, Holidae was swept into the sudden… whatever this moment was. Romance? Flirtation? …awkward social convention? Her eyes fluttered closed, and she leaned forward to close the distance…

…right before she was met with a face full of sofa cushion.

Beetlejuice had literally disappeared out from under her like a bad magic trick.

Writing Tags: @mr-geuse @paxenera @leiasolo77 @go-commander-kim @ashemspirit

[fly-flower-fanfics]

Crafts and Kisses

Alpha Loki x Omega Male Reader

Warnings: None, I think.

~~~~~~~~~~

Things were different ever since I moved in with everyone into Tony's tower. I got to see my friends more often, and I wasn't as lonely anymore. My depression — although still bad — had decreased significantly. Life seemed to be all around better than ever before.

Bruce was my best friend. He was the one I went to constantly and for everything. He was always reminding me to take my antidepressants and heat suppressants, telling me that it was time for meals, and where I'd last left certain items.

If my head wasn't attached, I'd probably need Bruce to find that, too.

Natasha and Clint were betas, and I found it a bit comical that the only two betas in the building were together. Usually Bruce, the two of them, and I would be at home, cuddled up on the couch watching movies like best friends and couple do.

Lastly, you had Tony, Thor, Steve, and Loki that were the alphas. Tony and Steve butt heads sometimes, but Natasha was able to shut the two of them up almost instantly. Thor was the softest alpha around, literally acting like everyone was apart of his pack. Not going to lie, Thor was the best cuddle buddy when Bruce was shut up in the lab.

Loki, on the other hand, was an alpha that I didn't quite understand. It wasn't because he was an alpha; I wouldn't understand him if he was a beta or omega, either. He was just...odd. I never really interacted with him because he was always sneaking around. He'd stopped being a villain — as much as he could — so he wasn't doing anything wrong. Something was just different about him.

I didn't really think he would like me.

My powers were rather insignificant to everyone else's. All I could do was control electricity: turning on and off lights, appliances, etc. It was, however, good for playing pranks and charging my phone when I forgot to.

Because I was the newest addition to the Stark-Avengers Tower, I wasn't as open with everyone. Bruce knew I was an omega because omegas knew other omegas instantly. The others didn't ask because status was a bit of a sensitive thing. I just knew what everyone else the Tower was because they were so open with one another.

I'd only reached that point with Bruce, and everyone seemed okay with that.

Currently, I was in my room, laying on my bed and listening to my music blare through my headphones. My fingers were dancing to the tune above me, painting a picture with the air around me. I knew I looked silly, but I didn't particularly care at that moment. I was trying to picture what a painting would look like based on this song. And, not to toot my own horn, I was doing a damn fine job at imagining it.

Painting it? Now that was another story.

I was an artist, yes, but I was more into creating things and working with things like papier-mâché and clay. Painting wasn't my strong subject, but I wasn't terrible at it. It was just my ideas seemed to always be a bit too far out of my skill set, and I'd end up with a knock-off version of my idea.

I sat up in bed with the idea perfected in my head. I shoved my phone into the waistband of my boxers and rushed out my room towards the empty room Tony let me claim as an art studio.

On the way, I nearly crashed into both Clint and Thor. The two of them just laughed me off as I shouted an apology, spinning on my heel and waving at them. Whenever I had an idea, I always ran around to try and do it, and everyone knew it. Unfortunately for me, there was one other person I nearly rammed into: Loki.

I quickly apologized, but instead on continuing to run like I had with the others, I was frozen in place.

Why? It's not like I was scared of him or anything. He intently stared down at me; his green eyes felt like the burned straight to my soul. I didn't move, unsure of what the god would do or say. I never really got time to spend with him, and I didn't want to waste it, even if I had an idea.

The one corner of his mouth quirked up in the smallest movement that I had ever seen — barely seen — and he stepped to the side with a small nod of the head. Immediately, I smiled at him, brushed his cheek with my fingers, and went off running down the hall once more.

I never saw Loki as a threat to me, nor did I want to treat him any different than I did anyone else. I knew Tony and Steve treated him like an outsider, and Bruce and Clint were rather wary of him, too, and normally kept their distance. I was touch-feely with everyone, and Loki wasn't going to be spared of it either. At least, he hasn't told me he didn't like it with from our few interactions.

In fact, I don't think I've ever heard him talk at all.

Any thought of Loki and the others left my mind as soon as I reached the door of my makeshift art room. Opening it, I stepped inside and let the door close behind me. My paints were all set up in a corner already along with a clean canvas; I always made sure to do that when I left the room so I didn't need to prep when I had a brand-new idea.

I walked over and sat down by the table, pulling out a bunch of bright colors. After an hour, all I had was a rather beautiful mix of colors that looked like a splatter paint gone wrong. Even though I was disappointed that it was another idea that received a knock-off version, I didn't let it drag me down entirely.

I decided to go move to another kind of project: papier-mâché a mask.

With no set plan in mind, I plopped myself in front of the new table. It only took a few moments to get everything altogether, suit up into an apron, and get to work. I always stained the glue-water mix with a colored stiffener that would make it firmer when it dries. I'd always use clear glue because the white glue looked too much like something else. I made the mistake of using it once, and Tony made sure I never forget it. Clear glue looks like mucus, though, and that's disgusting, too.

I stained it purple today. Not that it mattered, but I liked the soft lilac color. I began placing the strips of newspaper onto a mask mold. It was peaceful enough until I realized one thing missing: my music. Whining, I got up and drug myself to the sink to wash my hands. I stuck my headphones in while I returned to my seat and pressed play.

New songs flooded my ears and motivated me to work. By the time I'd gotten the basic mold down to where I wanted it, I still didn't know what I wanted to make out of it. Then a song popped up that decided it for me: Miss Mysterious by Set It Off.

I knew I'd have to let the mask dry a bit before I'd start cutting into it, but I knew exactly how I wanted it to look. Half a mask, a bit like the Phantom of the Opera's, with a curled horn off to the side. It didn't sound as cool explaining it, but it was beautiful inside my head.

My fingers worked with the slimy mixture and the newspaper to create a thin, curled horn. I'd paint it a dark green, maybe add gold highlights to it or bells. Something like that. Something that would show how beautiful it was, how elegant it would be.

I sang along with the song. I could reach the high notes, and I wasn't the best at singing, but I was good enough that no one complained about my voice. Or at least they never complained to my face. Either way, I sang the song like no one else was in the room simply because there wasn't.

My hands glided over the mask, adding new pieces, creating the horn, and calling myself names when I'd accidentally drip the stuff on the table. I'd always then try and scoop it up in my hand but end up making it worse since my hands were covered in the gluey goop.

I'm sure if someone was outside looking in, I definitely was a sight to see. And I didn't care.

Once my mask was to the point that there was nothing left to do but let it dry, I stood up to go wash my hands. As soon as I turned around, I let out a scream.

"Loki?!"

His eyes lit up, just a bit more than usual, and I could tell he was laughing at me. Then, his lips began to move, but all I could hear was Who Is It by Michael Jackson blaring in my ears. I held up my hands to show him the goop they were currently covered in.

"Lemme wash my hands, and don't you dare leave, or I'll dip my hands back in it, find you, and touch you." I was sure I was speaking rather loudly because I could hear myself over my music.

I barely caught Loki's glare, and I smirked to myself. There was a fifty-fifty chance he'd actually leave, which meant there was a fifty-fifty chance I'd get to chase him with goopy hands. I washed my hands in the sink, making sure I got rid of all of it because it did stay a bit sticky when it remained on my hands.

I was equally surprised and disappointed to see Loki still standing there once I turned around. I removed my headphones from my ears, draped them around my neck, and gave Loki a slight bow while twirling my hand.

"You may speak now, my lord."

I heard the god snort. It was very soft, almost like a sharp inhale when one would be sick. His lips twitched slightly as I straightened up, but other than that, his face remained stoic. I knew that I was able to pull emotion from him, but I didn't understand why he tried to hide it.

Was it something I did? Something I said? Maybe it's just the way I am. Had I offended him in some way without realizing it?

His chuckle broke my train of thought. I blinked and saw the small smile on his face.  I don't think I've ever seen him smile before. Even though it was hardly a smile, it caused me to smile.

"Are you always this energized, Y/N?"

His voice made me freeze. He knew my name. Well, duh. Of course he knew my name. I did live in the same building with the man. Oh god, I'm being stupid. What the hell? This isn't that big of a deal.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah. It runs in my genes, I guess," I answered, wanting to slap myself. I couldn't have replied in a more dumbass way. Conversation was never my strong point.

Another smile tugged the edge of his lips. "Of course."

"Can-can I help you with anything?" I asked, scratching the back of my neck nervously before turning on my heel to replace the paints and canvas. "Not that I don't enjoy your company, it's just strange that you're here in my studio. Especially since we haven't really talked the much."

How long had he been there? The thought hit my like a punch in the stomach and made me hesitate for a moment. I'd finished my mask and turned to see him. He couldn't have been there that long, right? Art is boring to watch to most, and I'd assume that watching me papier-mâché was not on his list of 'fascinating things to do today.'

"Just stopping by."

God, I hated his answers. I mimicked him in my facial expressions while my back was turned to him. Couldn't he give me more solid answers? I cleaned out my brushes in the sink and glanced towards him.

"Why?"

He seemed caught off guard by my question, but it was perfectly reasonable considering our past — or lack there of. Instead of an answer, when Loki regained his composure, all I received was a shrug.

"Did you want something?" I asked, trying to hide my nervousness now. I went to the closet to grab a new canvas, tucking my lip between my teeth. There was a chair within reach of my foot, so I pulled it closer to me with the top of my toes and stood on it to grab a new canvas.

Did he want something? Did I accidentally take something of his? It happened sometimes since I was usually so scatterbrained. I tried to scan my brain of the items I'd last had in my possession, but all that I could think of was my paints and some newspaper.

"Oh, my dear omega."

I nearly slipped off the chair when the words left Loki's lips. The canvas did fall from my hands and clatter to the floor, and I dove after it, picking it up. How did he know that? Bruce wouldn't snitch on me, I knew that.

"You reek of anxiety," the god continued. "You seem to forget that my senses are heightened over your Midgardian senses. No matter what you use to mask your natural scent, I can see right through it."

I walked my now slightly dusty canvas over to the table and laid it down. Did that mean Thor knew, too? If Loki did, then Thor had to. Bless them both for not saying anything. I proceeded to busy myself by making sure every little dust particle was off of the canvas. The lights dimmed slightly for a moment as my anxiety increased.

He's here to make fun of me.

Loki never thought highly of omegas or betas, for the matter. That was clear to me. Loki only ever seemed to respect other alphas that were able to take him size him up for a good fight for dominance. I always assumed that he and Tony would eventually get together, no matter how much the two currently avoided one another.

Clearing my throat, I straighten up and hung up the apron I had been wearing. Finally, after what simultaneously felt like centuries and mere seconds, I turned to face the prankster once again. My fingers were tingling, and I knew that just once more word might cause me to blow all the bulbs in my studio.

Tony never got mad at me for it because really, what was a few light bulbs to a millionaire? But I've been trying to learn how to control my powers in moments of high and nearly uncontrollable emotions.

"You didn't answer my question," I replied, letting a smile form on my lips. It wasn't nearly as large as my normal smile, but I wanted my normal persona back.

"Bruce is sick," he replied. I knew that. Bruce had gotten ill yesterday, and I told him I'd go see him later, no matter how much he protested. "Can't seem to get it if bed right now." A look of disgust floated over the God's beautiful features. "So I brought these for you since it seems you've forgotten them."

Loki held out a small, silver package towards me, and I recognized it instantly. My heat suppressants. Now that I was thinking back again, I couldn't remember the last time I'd taken them. A dark blush heated my cheeks, but Loki didn't seem phased by it whatsoever.

"We don't want you going into an early heat." I wanted to die at the words he was saying. Did he not understand how embarrassed I already was? I noticed the lights dangerously flicking as I took the package from him. I saw Loki's eyes glance up towards them before I turned to grab a bottle of water from the small refrigerator I kept in the back.

"How do you hide your heats?"

I nearly choked on the pill and water, but managed to get it to stay down. While I was able to save that, the light bulbs weren't so lucky. They popped, drowning the room in darkness that was almost pitch black. "Oh, dear. I do seemed to have caused some discomfort."

I wanted to punch Loki in his stupid, pretty face. I was a mixture of embarrassed and angry because he had no right to do this. Who was he to come stomping up into my safe haven and talk about my heats and being an omega? Then he plays it off like a joke? The nerve of the motherfucker.

Since I knew the room like the back of my hands, I had no issues navigating to the one corner of my room. I leaned my head against the wall and breathed out a sigh. I wanted to unlive the last ten minutes of my life and leave before Loki had ever entered.

"Y/N?"

Damn his voice.

Silence was my reply.

"Y/N, don't make me ask again.

Even though he wasn't my alpha, I found myself turning toward him before cursing and facing the wall again. Calm down. Count to ten.

"Y/N, please."

"What?" I hissed out before turning to face him. I didn't want to deal with this right now, but the two of us were stuck in here until Tony would manually unlock the door since that, too, was powered by electricity. I couldn't do anything because, more likely, I blew the fuse connecting all of that.

"It's not that big of a deal."

"Says you," I growled. I didn't like people finding out things about me without my permission. It was weird, I know, but I didn't like when people knew things that I didn't tell them. "No one hates you for being an alpha."

"And no one would hate you for being an omega."

I didn't reply this time. He was pissing me off, but I tried to calm down. I guess it wasn't that big of a deal... It still really bothered me though. Taking a deep breath, I tugged my hair, and then let it out slowly.

"I'm not ready to admit it, okay?" My parents had been very disappointed in me for being an omega and a gay one at that. Their only son was into other men and the weakest on the totem pole. Whether society really frowned upon omegas or not, in my mind, they did. Everyone did, and I was scared to admit it. Bruce didn't even know why I didn't tell people that I was an omega.

"And you of all people!" I nearly spat at him as I whirled around. "You're the one that would hate me for being an omega. I know the way you talk about them. God, can't even believe you can stand to look at me." I ground my teeth together.

This was way out of my comfort zone and personality. Hot tears streamed down my cheeks, causing me to curse aloud. I hated crying when I was angry.

I jumped when a hand fell on my shoulder, nearly decking Loki in the face. Was that really necessary?

Even in the darkness, I swore his green eyes were he only things that I could see perfectly clear.

"Calm down," he whispered to me softly, pulling me into a hug.

The coolness of his body helped my anxiety and the way he pet my hair caused me to let my guard down.

"Just listen to me," Loki continued. I was about to speak up, realizing what was going on, but Loki quickly shut that down. "You may not speak, do you understand?"

I closed my eyes and nodded against his chest. He's not my alpha, what the fuck am I doing?

"My omega, I kept my distance so I could keep watch on you. I kept my distance so I could se show others were interested in you. It also had come to my attention that you were into my brother." I could hear the jealousy laced in with his words.

The faint scent of possession filled my senses.

"I want you all to my own."

My knees felt weak at his words, and I found myself kneeling at his feet. As much as I had tried to push the feelings away, Loki was always the alpha I had wanted. He was off, odd, and different. Something about him always made my heart race.

I closed my eyes as I felt Loki's hand settle on my head. I rested my head against his thigh, closing my eyes. The amount of submission I felt was incredible, and I was incredibly embarrassed. Yet I didn't fight it as much as I normally would have.

"I didn't want you to hate me," I breathed out, hoping that he wouldn't hear my words.

"I would never." He backed away and knelt down to my level, sitting on the floor and pulling me between his legs. "I only ever wanted the best for my omega."

"You want me to be yours?" I asked softly.

I felt Loki's lips press against my skin at the base of my neck, near the place where he would mark me and claim me as his. "Yes."

I closed my eyes, letting myself enjoy the feeling of his cool lips against my skin. "Loki...I-I just... I don't wanna jump right in... I want you, but I want a relationship, too..."

"Then a relationship we shall form," he promised, tilting my head back to kiss my lips.

[sandershospitalau]

The Extra Late Night Show

What can I say except surprise?

CW: Surgery, Mentions of Death, suggested death, Talk Shows, POV Second Person, Remus being gross, Virgil mention, Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, only a tiny bit of angst at the end, Mostly funny

Archive of our Own

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You blend into the Miami crowds, lost in your own world. You consistently check your pocket to make sure your phone was still there. At this point, you aren’t entirely sure where you are. It's a nice part of town by the look of it, with shiny buildings on either side of the packed road and crowds mulling around you without a care in the world. You have quite a bit to do, but who would want to be doing that? The only way you can think of procrastinating is to take a walk.

You can almost feel the endless viruses floating into your mouth as you pass a gigantic building with more windows than walls. A large open courtyard pushes the building back from the road. Smooth paths cut through tenderly planted flowerbeds, looping around a large statue. The stone statue is a woman with a cloak draped around her modest black dress. She holds her hands to her torso. One hand loosely grips a large crucifix while the other nurses a tiny bouquet of flowers. Oh, now you know where you are! This is the main entrance to St. Gemma's Hospital! You passed by the statue a year ago to visit a friend who had heart surgery here. They got stuck with a pretty big bill (the joys of the American healthcare system), but the doctors did a fairly good job. You’re so distracted by the pretty statue, you’re not prepared for something to fly into your head and send you tumbling into the nearest stranger.

As you get your bearings, you look around for whoever hit you. Standing against the hospital wall with a trash bag over their back like a greasy Santa Claus is someone wearing a dark green jumpsuit, grinning wildly at you.

“Enjoy the show!” the person squeals. Before you can say anything, they race off, the trash bag jumping against their back. You look down at what the person threw at you. It’s a DVD, sitting in a clear case. There’s something written on the case cover in Sharpie.

The Extra Late Night Show!

Starring Remus Duke!

Now, when someone throws a mysterious DVD at you, the usual reaction should probably be to throw the DVD away. But you’ve got nothing better to do. So, nursing your aching head, you pick up the case and make your way towards home. You’ve got a movie to watch.

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The footage pops to life. You see a small office space, or what someone attempted to look like an office space. Shelves line the walls covered in cleaning supplies and napkins. The desk in the middle is a child’s school desk. The nameplate on the desk reads ‘Remus Duke’. Someone begins humming from somewhere off-camera.

“Do do Do do DoOoOoOoO,” they hum. “Do do Do do dooooooooo. Do do Do do Do! DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Do do do do do!” Someone pops out from behind the desk. It’s the same greasy person you saw throw the DVD at you!

“Welcome to the Extra Late Night Show!” The person chirps. “I am your Duke of Dirt and King of Chaos, Remus! As always, I have my loyal cameraman, Mitchell!” The camera shakes slightly.

“Dude, this place is a mess,” the cameraman, Mitchell, huffs.

“It’s a janitor’s closet, I don’t know what else you expected,” Remus laughs.

“I thought you had OCD,” Mitchell mutters.

“Nah, my writer decided to throw that out,” Remus scoffs.

“Huh?” Mitchell asks.

“Anywho, welcome to tonight’s show!” Remus declares, dramatically waving his hand overhead. “We’ve got a wonderful line-up for you, folks. Starting off tonight, we’re taking you on a tour of the geriatrics bathrooms! One of the grossest places in St. Gemma’s! Sprinkled throughout this show like eyeball shavings, we’ll include everyone’s favorite segment, Dumpsters of Miami, where I review the contents of my latest dumpster dive, alongside Emergency Room Horror, What’s In My Mouth, and tonight’s Top 5 Hottest Patients! Number 3 will surprise you!”

“You do know I have to work tonight,” Mitchell scoffs.

“Like anyone is going to notice one missing anesthesiologist!” Remus grunts, sitting on his desk.

“Yeah, my boss,” Mitchell huffs. “And the people I’m operating on.”

“But those segments will be highlighting tonight’s main event!” Remus continues. “We’ll be following Dr. D on his rounds tonight as he operates on burn victims and terrifies patients with his morbid scars!”

“Hold up,” Mitchell stammers. The camera pans down, showing Mitchell’s scrubs. “Dr. D? We can’t follow that guy! He’ll rip our skin off!”

“He’s a kitten,” Remus scoffs, waving his hand dismissingly. “We’re friends! It’ll be fine, trust me. Now come on, the geriatrics ward is calling our names!” Mitchell groans and turns off the camera. You decide to fast-forward through the geriatrics ward segment.

You stop at a clip of Remus pushing a large cleaning cart down the hall. St. Gemma’s hallways are just as clean as you remember them. You’re honestly surprised as you realize the dirty man you’re watching is the one in charge of cleaning this place. He polishes off a door handle, giving it a bright shine. He finishes the clean by sticking the doorknob in his armpit.

“You done?” Mitchell grunts.

“We’re almost at Dr. D’s office!” Remus laughs, continuing down the hall. “While we’re there, we’ll get an overview of what he does and convince him not to tear our faces off and let us film him! Here we are!” The camera pans to a wooden door with the words ‘Inter Hospital Consultant’ on it. “The doc’s not a fan of having his name on the door.” Remus pushed the door open and strolled right into the office.

Now THIS is what an office should look like. The room is very professional! Diplomas line the walls, but the names are covered with sticky notes inside the glass cases. The smooth faux-wood desk is clean and tidy, with a computer, a jar of pens and pencils, a black hat, and a phone. The man you assume is Dr. D seats in a comfy modern seat. Long burn scars trail down half of his face and turn a few strains of his black hair white. He wears a black shirt with a yellow tie under his white coat and a pair of yellow gloves. He’s glaring at the camera with an intense stare that makes you look away.

“Dr. Elting,” Dr. D sighs. “Shouldn’t you be preparing for the leg surgery on the 35-year old Latina woman that’s supposed to begin in…” He looks at the clock on his computer. “An hour and a half?”

“Relax, D, he’s with me,” Remus giggles. He sits on Dr. D’s desk and crosses his legs. “I called him in sick.”

“Dude, you can’t—” Mitchell stammers.

“I told them you had explosive diarrhea,” Remus says. “They didn’t ask too many questions. So, D, how does it feel to guest star on the Extra Late Night Show?”

“Your world famous talk show,” Dr. D groans. “It’s wonderful, Remus.”

“Woo!” Remus whoops. He lays on his back, knocking over Dr. D’s jar of pens. “So here’s what we’re going to do. You, my rough-skinned friend, are the star of our show! The audience wants to know what a night in the life is like for a surgeon! What’s it like consulting at other hospitals? You ever get the urge to squeeze someone’s heart and feel it beat in your hands?”

“Remus, Remus, Remus,” Dr. D tuts, shaking his head. “I already have that power. Now leave.”

“Nah,” Remus says. You hear a soft beep from somewhere in the room. Dr. D pulls something out of his pocket. His face tightens.

“A 7-C-3 from the EMTs,” Dr. D mutters. “Emergency surgery.”

“Oooo, what’s that?” Remus purrs, but Dr. D ignores him. He launches out of his chair and out of his office. Remus scrambles off the desk.

“Remus, this is an emergency call, we can’t follow him!” Mitchell hisses as the pair stumbles out of the office. The camera shakes so much, you can’t see much of what’s happening.

“Do it or I’m putting the leftovers from the geriatrics ward in your locker, chicken,” Remus growls. “Bak-Kah!” The camera angles towards Mitchell’s feet as the pair jog after Dr. D.

“You’re lucky I like your humor, Prince,” Mitchell chuckles.

“It’s Remus Duke when we’re filming!” Remus groans. “You have to use my stage name! Get the camera up!” Mitchell pulls up the camera, and you get a better view of the St. Gemma’s halls. Remus runs alongside the edge of the camera. “So, what’s a 7-C-3?”

“I don’t know EMT code,” Mitchell explains. “I think sevens are for burns.”

“Well then no wonder they called D!” Remus laughs. “He’s the best in the business for burns! I’ve handled the ‘hazardous materials’ from those operations, they look like chicken!” You can see Remus do quotation marks around ‘hazardous materials’. The camera pans around a corner just in time to see Dr. D enter a large elevator.

“Welp, he’s gone,” Mitchell says, stopping. “We better end the show.”

“He can’t lose me that easily!” Remus barks. Remus runs into the nearest elevator and presses a button. The camera barely gets inside before the doors closed.

“Dude, you left your cleaning supplies outside Dr. D’s office,” Mitchell remarks.

“If someone steals it, hey, free food!” Remus laughs. His face pops on camera. He’s so close, you can see each individual hair of his mustache. “This seems like the perfect time to cut to the next segment of our show! We’ll be right back!” Static fills the screen before going black.

You think it glitched out for a moment before white words slide into view. ‘Getting Personal With Remus’. Remus’s messy office pops on screen, but the lights are off. The only light in the room is a small fire inside a trash can beside Remus’s desk. Remus sits on top of the desk, staring into the camera with a smile and a wink.

“Happy Valentine’s!” Remus says. “Hope you like the candle. On tonight’s ‘Getting Personal’, we’re talking about how I met Dr. D. It’s quite the story! I was looking for a job when I suddenly stumbled upon a Help Wanted sign for… can you guess? You’re right, Taco Bell! I began working that same day! I loved tossing frozen food into the fryer. Well one day I got a bit too carried away with my tossing and I got shipped to St. Gemma’s with second-degree burns! And Dr. D was my doctor. I got fired from Taco Bell. Once I was all healed up, I got a job as a janitor here, and D and I have been friends ever since!” Remus kicks his leg out. His foot knocks against the trash can and tips it over. Fire begins to crawl towards the desk. “Now back to your regularly scheduled program.” The screen goes black again.

The DVD cuts back to the elevator just as the doors slide open. You vaguely remember seeing an article online about how good the burn ward at St. Gemma’s was, back when you were trying to find where the hospital was to visit your friend. It’s tough to get a good look inside with the moving camera, but you can see plush furniture and gentle lighting over a receptionist’s desk. Voices shout and give orders somewhere in the ward. The receptionist doesn’t seem to care.

“The patient in Room 705 just kicked it,” the receptionist mutters, glancing up at Remus. “You need to clean it out.” Remus ignores the receptionist and jogs down the hall towards the voices.

“Is there enough undamaged skin for the graphs?” one person asks.

“We may have to use some cadaver skin,” another responds.

“Oh, they’re doing skin grafts!” Remus chirps. He stops by a half-open metal door. The sign on the side reads ‘Operating Theater 2, Level 7’. Remus carefully pulls the door open.

“Remus, no!” Mitchell hisses. He grabs Remus’s arm and tugs him back. “You aren’t sterile.”

“I should hope not,” Remus chuckles, wiggling his eyebrows.

“If you go in there, you could spread an infection!” Mitchell groans. “Burn victims are the most in danger from them! You could kill the guy!”

“All in the name of a good show, right?” Remus sighs, shrugging. “Here, give me the camera.” The camera switches hands, and you finally get a good look at Mitchell. His long blonde hair is tied into a ponytail behind him. He’s wearing black scrubs under a thick white sweatshirt. While Remus’s stare bounced all over the place and Dr. D glared into your soul, Mitchell had the eyes of an emotional teenager ready to do something dangerous.

“I’m not getting fired because of you,” Mitchell hisses with gritted teeth.

“Relax, Anx-Mitch,” Remus says, correcting himself halfway through. The camera pans down and slips just inside the door. The operating theater is split in half. The half you can best see is a long row of sinks below a long window. Through the window you see doctors huddling around a patient. The angle is so bad you can barely tell what they’re doing. You can pick out Dr. D, since his burns pop up under the harsh OR light. He’s focused on the task in front of him, silent while the other doctors discuss how to proceed. He simply works.

“What are you doing?” the receptionist’s harsh voice screams. The camera jumps back and flies through the air, landing in Mitchell’s arms. Remus and Mitchell zoom down the hall with the receptionist’s threats echoing behind them.

“Time for a commercial break!” Remus laughs. He grabs the camera and pushes it down as it cuts to another segment. Here, Remus is outside in the middle of the day, leaning against a large, dirty, green dumpster.

“Here at the Remus Academy of Dumpster Diving,” Remus states with the full professionalism of an actual salesman. “You’ll be taught all the best locations in Miami to score some sweet goods! But don’t come near St. Gemma’s or I’ll steal your kneecaps!” Remus flips open the dumpster with a loud clang. He hoists himself up and tumbles into the half full pit of disease. “For the simple cost of your social security number, you’ll get first hand experience at discovering the untold treasures of garage cans and curbside trash. For example…” Remus pops up with a broken baseball bat. The top half has been ripped off. “Weapons! Or…” He ducks back down and brings up a handful of shredded paper. “Confetti!” He tosses the paper in the air. “Call the number below in the next half hour and you’ll get your dumpster personally looted!” The ‘phone number’ Remus mentioned isn’t even composed of numbers. It’s A#@-JRD-(D#$. “Join the Remus Academy of Dumpster Diving today!”

The show quickly cuts back to Dr. D’s office. Remus is laying on the floor, kicking his legs in the air. The camera sits beside him.

“Can I stop filming now?” Mitchell groans. “My phone’s going to die.”

“Sadly, we couldn’t get more juicy surgery footage,” Remus huffs. “So we’ll just have to wait for D to come back!”

“Surgery takes a while, Remus,” Mitchell scoffs. “Don’t whine about it. It’s only been a few hours.” The office doors creaks open. Dr. D steps inside his office, slipping on his yellow gloves. You get a glimpse of the burns covering his fingers. Remus shoots up like a puppy. Mitchell clambers up, groaning.

“So how’d it go?” Remus chirps. Dr. D slinks to his desk and sits down.

“Do your job, Remus,” Dr. D grumbles, staring into his computer.

“What, too squeamish to share details?” Remus scoffs, sitting on the desk.

“Exactly,” Dr. D sighs.

“Come on,” Remus purrs. He pokes at Dr. D’s cheek with each word. “Come on come on come ON!” Dr. D glares at Remus and the camera takes a step back. He settles his hands flat on his desk.

“I want you to imagine you have some resemblance of medical training,” Dr. D mutters. “You’re creative, I trust it’s not too difficult. Now I want you to imagine your patient is a 30-something man who was nearly beaten to a pulp by his abusive parents.” Something drops in Remus’s gaze. He’s no longer poking at Dr. D. “I want you to imagine yourself in surgery trying to repair the damage to this man, but as soon as you fix one issue, another issue comes up. The man’s body is destroying itself on the table and there is nothing you can do until a fellow doctor announces the time of death.” Dr. D’s words come out as a violent hiss. His fingers clench inside his gaudy gloves. “Now imagine myself in that situation, but the patient was asleep as their apartment burned around them, and tell me if you would be excited to talk about it!” Remus hops off the desk. Dr. D’s hands unclench slightly, though his jaw is threatening to break his teeth.

“I am in no mood for your ridiculous show,” Dr. D grumbles. For the first time in the show, Remus seems softer. His edges aren’t so sharp. His dirty nails rest over Dr. D’s glove. Dr. D fixes his black hat and takes a deep breath. Then he glares into the camera.

“Leave,” he hisses. Mitchell takes off, out of the office and into the hall before the camera cuts. After a few seconds of darkness, Remus’s office space reappears. He’s sitting behind his desk, once again carrying his demonic smile.

“Come on, don’t be shy!” Remus laughs. Someone groans behind the camera. Dr. D steps into view and takes a spot standing behind Remus. He seems a bit calmer than earlier.

“That’s all the time we have for this episode!” Remus chirps, rocking back and forth. “We're ditching the rest of our line-up because I don't care! I’d like to give a warm thank you to Dr. D for being a fabulous guest on our show tonight!” Dr. D seems resigned to his fate, but far more happy than Mitchell ever did. “Tune in next time for live coverage of the Sanders Hospital hosted Nurse’s Rally!”

“A rally?” Dr. D asks, glancing down at Remus. He takes a phone out of his coat and types something in. “...organized by Virgil Lawson.” He puts the phone away again. His expression is unreadable, unchanged from earlier. “Remus, could I assist you in your next episode at this rally?”

“I’d love that!” Remus shouts, throwing his hands in the air. “See you next time on the Extra Late Night Show! Bye, everybody! Do do Do do DoOoOoOoO. Do do Do do dooooooooo. Do do Do do Do! DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Do do do do do! ” Remus waves goodbye. The screen turns black. The show is finally done. Without saying a word, you take the DVD out of your player. You gently put it back in its case. You walk into your kitchen. You open up the trash can and put it inside. Then you decide to look up how to rid a home of curses because you are certain there was a violent curse on that DVD.

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@purelyreblogstsedition @watchoutforthefanfics @moonlight22oa @mediocrity-at-best

[paintingwithdarkness]

Roydick + “you forgot to remove your snarky sticky note comments in this textbook and since i got kicked out of the library for laughing too loudly, im going to reply to each and every one” Thank you darlin' 👾

Lmao thx for the ask @dbakeiro! I’ve never written for Roydick before, so this should be new. Time to dig out my old stack of books from high school English 😂. I was a sarcastic bitch back then, so I should have some pretty good comments written in the margins I can use for this. I know it says ‘textbook’ but I’m gonna go with The Great Gatsby, because I completely defiled my copy with highlighters and sloppy cursive in the margins 😂. Hopefully my sense of humor will resonate with you.

Dick sighed heavily as he tossed the blue-covered book onto the table and slumped down in the wooden chair he’d just pulled out for himself. He buried his face in his hands, rubbing at his forehead with his fingertips. He did not want to do this. English sucked. At least math made sense to him. Metaphors, and hyperboles and idioms were just plain confusing. That was more Jason’s thing. There was a reason he always switched homework with his brother when they got home. Dick was the math guy. He did all of Jason’s algebra in exchange for Jay doing his English assignments. The only problem this time was that Jason had been caught cheating on one of his math tests, since he didn’t know any of the material. So while Jason was stuck in algebra tutoring, Dick had been forced to venture to the library to rent and read a copy of The Great Gatsby so he could complete his book report.

Overall, the book didn’t look too daunting. 180 pages. Dick could read that in a few hours. The only problem was the fact that he didn’t want to. Trying to comprehend the narrative while also searching for metaphor examples, foreshdowing, and vocabulary words meant that he would have to read each sentence at least twice so that he could complete all of the sections on his assignment. That meant actually getting through the book would take him twice as long. So not cool.

Reluctantly, he reached out and pulled the book closer. If he was being honest, the cover was actually a little creepy. Disembodied eyes and lips floated in a sea of blue. Below them was what looked like a city, bursting with lights. What was the point of the face? Was that supposed to be Gatsby? If so, Dick thought the dude was pretty ugly. And why would anyone want to write a book about an ugly guy?

He flipped the novel open. The first few pages gave the typical publication information and dedications. He skipped past those. When he got to the first page of the actual story, he paused. There was a green sticky note stuck to the margin. On it were a few scribbled sentences in print that looked like a kindergartner had written it. The letters were a mashup of capitals and lowercase, uneven in size and spacing. Dick gave it a quick once over. Maybe he wouldn’t have to read this book after all. If someone had already read it and done all the work for him by leaving their notes behind, all Dick would have to do was copy what they had already written. He had gotten lucky!

When he flipped to the second page, there was a sentence highlighted in orange and another sticky note. The sentence of the book read: “Conduct may be founded on the hard rock or the wet marshes, but after a certain point I don’t care what it’s founded on.” The response on the sticky note was: “Yeah, I don’t care either.”

Dick stifled a chuckle. So the last person who had checked this book out had decided to leave sarcastic commentary behind. Even if it wasn’t going to help him with his assignment, maybe Dick could get a little enjoyment out of this book after all.

He skimmed the next few pages before finding another sticky note. A few paragraphs had been highlighted; descriptions of a new character named Tom. After reading the highlighted bits, Dick read the note: “This Tom guy sounds like a rich, white asshole.”

A smile cracked the raven-haired student’s lips. After reading the description, Dick had to say he agreed with the note. Having his thoughts already written out by someone who agreed with him was ironically hilarious. Dick had barely started reading this book, and he didn’t know the person who had left these notes behind, but he had already made up his mind that he liked whoever it was.

On page 7 was another sticky written in response to a line of dialogue: “‘Now, don’t think my opinion on these matters is final, just because I’m stronger and more of a man than you are.”’ In the scrawled handwriting: “Ah, another case of fragile masculinity. Too bad male enhancement surgery wasn’t invented until the 50’s.”

Dick couldn’t contain the snort of a laugh that escaped him this time. Whoever had written these notes was one of the most sarcastic people Dick had ever met... or read from? in this case, anyway. Regardless, it was hilarious.

Unfortunately, his little outburst earned him a nasty look from the librarian. Dick shrunk a little in his seat. He would have to try to mask his reactions a little better.

He read a few pages more, filling in the description portions of his report as new characters were introduced. So far there was Nick, Daisy, and Tom. He wondered when he was going to get to the part with Gatsby. That was the guy the book was named after, so when the hell was this guy going to show up?

The next sticky note was placed next to a description of a female character named Jordan. A single sentence was highlighted: “I enjoyed looking at her.” The book was written in first person, from the point of view of this Nick character. The sarcastic sticky note response? “Yeah, what guy wouldn’t?”

Dick rolled his eyes. It wasn’t a particularly funny response, but the fact that the writer of the notes had chosen to comment on it said something about them.

It wasn’t until Dick got to the second chapter that he found another note. A paragraph at the bottom of the page had been highlighted, and the name Doctor J.T. Eckleburg had been circled. The sticky note said: “Ah. So this is the creepy fucker on the cover.”

A loud, “HA!” emerged from between Dick’s lips. It earned him a harsh shushing from the librarian. She was looking at him as if he were the most despicable human being she had ever met. Dick sunk lower in his chair. “Sorry,” he mouthed back at her. The librarian held up a single finger, and then pointed at the doors. One more chance, and then he had to leave. Guess it was three strikes and you’re out with this lady.

Dick tried his best to keep quiet as he kept reading. Occasional commentary from the smartass note-writer appeared every couple pages, mostly tame enough that Dick could get through it with a silent huff of laughter or a stifled giggle. Among his favorites were:

“I have been drunk just twice in my life.” “What a damn shame.”

“Catherine was a slender, worldly girl of about thirty, with a solid, sticky bob of red hair, and a complexion powdered milky white. Her eyebrows had been plucked and then drawn on again at a more rakish angle but the efforts of nature toward the restoration of the old alignment gave a blurred air to her face.” “Could have just said she was a clown. Ffs Wordsworth. No need for the garish description.”

“Suddenly, with a strained sound, Daisy bent her head into the shirts and began to cry stormily. ‘They’re such beautiful shirts,’ she sobbed, her voice muffled in the thick folds. ‘It makes me sad because I’ve never seen such- such beautiful shirts before.’” “Damn bitch. They’re just shirts. Get over yourself.”

The one that made Dick lose it however, was a note in response to a few highlighted lines of dialogue: “She got up and went over to Gatsby and pulled his face down, kissing him on the mouth. ‘You know I love you,’ she murmured. ‘You forget there’s a lady present,’ said Jordan. Daisy looked around doubtfully. ‘You kiss Nick too.’” The note-taker had written: “Just start an orgy, why don’t you, Daisy?”

Dick burst out laughing. He couldn’t help it. Amongst the many sticky notes written and stuck in the middle portion of the book were snarky comments about Daisy’s many lovers, Tom, Gatsby, and her fantasies about her own cousin, Nick. The orgy comment was the final thing that pushed Dick over the edge though.

He was in the middle of trying to calm himself back down when the librarian made an appearance at his side. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave, young man,” she said, sternly. “This is a library. Books are supposed to be educational; not funny.”

Dick nearly snorted at the librarian’s words, because he knew for a fact that she was wrong- plenty of books were written for the sole purpose of entertainment- but he wasn’t going to argue. He packed up his things, slipping the book into his backpack, before getting up and leaving the library. He could finish reading at home. At least there he could laugh without judgement from the old hag.

During the drive home, a brilliant idea bloomed to life in Dick’s head. All of the sticky note comments had been addressed in such a way that they were directly speaking to the characters they were about, almost like they were continuing or starting a conversation. Why then, couldn’t Dick help carry on that conversation? Why not add to the sarcastic commentary? Dick was pretty witty himself, and had already thought of a few responses to the comments the note-taker had left behind.

When he got home, Dick sprinted up to his room without so much as a hello to any of his siblings or father. He had thought that forcing himself to read this book would be torture at first, but now he was actually excited to continue, if only so he could leave his own mark on the book.

The first comment he responded to was one that said: “Well, that would be the global warming.” The line in the actual book was: “‘I read somewhere that the sun’s getting hotter every year. It seems that pretty soon the earth’s going to fall into the sun- or wait a minute- it’s just the opposite- the sun’s getting colder every year.’”

Dick pulled the sticky note out of the book and flipped it over, writing his response on the back in large, loopy cursive: “I thought global warming was fake news?” Then he stuck the note back in the place he found it with a smile.

As he neared the end of the book the notes started dwindling in number. Dick pulled out a sticky note written in response to the line: “Nowadays people begin sneering at family life and family institutions, and next they’ll throw everything overboard and have intermarriage between black and white.” Sarcastic Note-Taker had written: “Oh, the horrors!” Dick’s response: “At least he didn’t go after the gays, too. That makes him only a piece of shit instead of the whole pile.”

The last note wasn’t written in response to a particular quote, but the book as a whole. It was formatted as though the writer was just jotting down some final thoughts. Everything was bulletpointed.

Overall rating: 6/10

Had some entertaining parts, not too difficult to read, however:

Tom was a racist asshole

Daisy was a confused, manipulative bitch

Jordan was just plain full of herself

Gatsby was a liar

(Shame he died tho; R.I.P.)

Nick was the only decent character in this book

And honestly, wtf was the point of the creepy-ass face on the cover?

The 20’s sound lame. So much for “roaring” 20’s. These losers were living in the snoring 20’s.

Educational, I guess. Would not read again.

Dick chuckled. He actually didn’t know how to respond to this one. Instead, he figured he would leave his own note.

He scrambled around inside his desk, searching for the pad of sticky notes he knew he possessed. Like the note-taker, Dick tended to leave his thoughts on little post-its in his textbooks, though he was always certain to remove them before returning his books to the library. He didn’t know if the person who had checked this book out last had simply forgotten to remove their snarky comments, or if they had left them behind on purpose. Either way, Dick was glad because they had made this otherwise boring book actually entertaining to read.

Eventually, Dick victoriously held up a half-used pad of pink post-it notes. He scribbled down his own review of the book, and then tore the note off the top of the stack, sticking it into the back cover of The Great Gatsby, next to the green note left by the last renter.

Feeling satisfied, Dick slumped back in his desk chair. He had actually gotten through the whole book. Now all he had to do was finish his stupid book report. He’d filled out all of the major sections, and all he had left were the minute details.

Title: The Great Gatsby. Author: F. Scott Fitzgerald. Copyright:

Damn. Dick would have to go back to all of those pages he’d skipped at the beginning. With a sigh, he reopened the book, noticing something taped to the inside of the front cover he hadn’t before. It was a record of everyone who had checked out the book. Apparently the last person to check it out was a ‘Roy Harper’. The rental date was today’s date, exactly a year ago. Dick was a sophomore reading this book. That meant this ‘Roy Harper’ had to be a junior. Maybe he still had the same English teacher? It was worth a shot. Maybe Dick could actually meet the sarcastic note-taker in person. What a hilarious scene that would be.

With his mind made up on the matter, Dick copied his own name onto the record, that way, this ‘Roy Harper’ would be able to find him, too.

Roy groaned as he slumped down at his desk. English. His last class of the day. If he could just get through this last hour, then he would be free to go home. Just a measly 60 minutes. He could do this.

He rested his head against his shoulders, leaning back dangerously in his chair, precariously balanced on its two back legs. The other students around him were in various states of attentiveness. Some were diligently taking notes as the teacher droned through her powerpoint, while others resembled Roy, only hearing every other word, thoughts in a completely different place altogether.

When the bell rang, Roy nearly let out a relieved cheer. Now he could go home and (not) do his homework. Leaping up from his chair, Roy quickly shoved his English binder and pen back into his bag, before racing to the door of the classroom. Before his hand could grip the knob however, the teacher was standing in front of him.

“Mr. Harper. One of my sophomores said you lent him your copy of The Great Gatsby, and he asked me to return it to you.” She held a vaguely familiar blue-covered book out to him.

Raising a brow in confusion, Roy took it. Disembodied eyes and a pair of lips stared back at him. Well, that was creepy as fuck. But at least it cleared up the initial confusion.

“Uh, Ms. Lance, I think you’re mistaken. This is a library book-” By the time Roy looked back up from the cover, the teacher was already back at her desk. He really didn’t feel like having to explain it to her.

He shoved the book into his backpack. Now he would have to find the stupid sophomore who had done this. Honestly, was the kid really so lazy that he couldn’t return it to the library himself? Obviously, they had seen his name in the front cover and had decided to pawn the novel off on him. Whatever. That was a problem for future him to deal with. Right now, all he wanted to do was go home and take a fat nap.

When Roy woke up, for some reason, his mind immediately went to the book. Go figure. Now that the judgemental floating eyes of J.T. Eckleburg had reentered his life, he wasn’t going to be able to forget about The Great Gatsby until he found that damn sophomore who had decided to pull one over on him.

Roy growled as he threw off his bed covers and stomped to his desk where he had haphazardly tossed his backpack before his nap.

He dug out the book and flipped it open to the front cover. A neon pink sticky note flared against the crisp white of the page, stuck just above the name list of those who had checked out the book. Roy glared at it before reluctantly pulling it out of the book to read.

“Hi Roy, my name is Dick. I’m the sophomore who told Ms. Lance to give this book back to you. I know it’s not your book, since I checked it out from the library, but I do just want to set the record straight:” Roy’s eyebrows shot up in confusion. Did the note end here? He flipped it over. “I 100% blame you for getting kicked out, btw. Your notes are too damn funny. And since I did get kicked out, I decided to respond to all of them.”

Roy blinked back at the note for a moment. Who the hell did this Dick think he was?

He set the note aside and flipped the page. On page one, a familiar green sticky note was stuck to the margin. Roy could vaguely remember writing it. It had been over a year ago. He had completely forgotten to remove the notes before he’d returned the book, and now some stupid sophomore was mocking him for it.

Roy quickly flipped through the book. Several of his green post its were still stuck to the pages, but he didn’t see any more of the pink ones. So much for this sophomore supposedly responding to them.

Roy thought for a minute. Dick had used the back of his own post it to continue his message. Had he...?

Roy flipped the book open to a random page and pulled his old green note out. Sure enough, there was a message written on the back in that same loopy cursive Roy had seen on the pink sticky note.

Roy’s original comment said: “Could have just said she was a clown. Ffs Wordsworth. No need for the garish description.”

The response on the back said: “More like he was competing with Oscar Wilde than Wordsworth.”

Roy snorted. So the kid had a sense of humor after all. Maybe it was worth looking to see what else he had written.

Roy’s next note said: “Damn bitch. They’re just shirts. Get over yourself.”

The sophomore had written: “Maybe they’re Chanel?”

Roy snorted. So this Dick guy was into fashion, huh? Interesting. Then again, now that he was thinking about it, Roy had looked up the date male enhancement surgery was invented, just so he could prove a point in one of the notes he had written last year. Ironic how the research he had done hadn’t benefitted him in any way besides the satisfaction of getting to write that witty burn.

The last note Roy bothered looking at was the one written in response to his orgy comment: “No one said anything about sex. Eager for some action, are we? You skipped over bases two and three.”

One of Roy’s red eyebrows inched upwards. He didn’t know whether to feel amused or insulted. This note hadn’t just been written in response to one of his own; it had been directly addressed to him. It was like this stupid sophomore was trying to call him out.

Very well, then. The spotlight was on Roy now. Dick had set the stage, and it was time for Roy to deliver the dramatic soliloquy his audience was waiting for. Well... in this case, another snarkily written note to a snot-nosed sophomore- but same difference.

Roy dug around in his desk, searching for his sticky notes. He didn’t want to use green this time, because it would just blend in with all of his others. He wanted Dick to find his new note. Roy needed to put this kid in his place.

Eventually, he slammed a pad of neon yellow post its down on the desk in front of him. After dragging a pencil out of the cup sitting next to his desktop, he began scribbling his message.

Dick couldn’t help feeling a little giddy when he saw the book sitting on his desk as he walked into English the next day.

“Mr. Grayson, Roy informed me that you needed to borrow this from him again. In the future, I ask that you two stop using me as a middle man to deliver it. You’re an adult. I’m sure you’ll find a way of getting it back to him on your own once you’re finished with it.” Ms. Lance cocked a hand on her hip and raised an expectant blonde eyebrow at him.

Dick chuckled. “Of course, Ms. Lance. Thank you.”

Once the rest of the class filed into the room, Ms. Lance began her lecture for the day, and Dick busied himself with subtly scanning through the book for any signs Roy had left behind for him.

Like he had done, there was only one note that stood out; this time a bright yellow. It read: Who do you think you are, pawning this book back off on me? I did my job and returned it to the fucking library when I was done. I’m not your pack mule. Besides, that unnessesary call out on page 116? Like you even know what third base is.”

Dick scoffed. He ripped the yellow sticky out of the book and flipped it over. “You don’t know whether I do or don’t. Besides, that ‘call out’ is how you interpreted it. I just merely made a suggestion :).”

Roy’s eyes nearly popped out of his head when he walked into Ms. Lance’s classroom. Sitting up by the whiteboard, on proud display was that damned book again. That cocky little bastard...

Roy quickly flicked his sapphire eyes around the room to make sure no one was watching before he darted up to the whiteboard and snatched the cursed object. The sound of someone clearing their throat behind him made him freeze in his tracks.

“Mr. Harper, I believe I explicitly asked Dick not to use me as the middle man in your interactions with him. ‘Accidentally’ leaving this book in my classroom still counts.” The teacher leveled him with an unimpressed stare.

Roy swallowed. “Sorry, Ms. Lance. Won’t happen again.” He quickly scurried to his desk, not wanting to offend the woman any further. She was, after all, the one in control of his grade, and he could not afford to flunk.

Grinding his teeth in annoyance, Roy slammed the book open and located the new note, written on the back of his own yellow one. He dug a pen out of his backpack and scribbled a response.

When he was finished, Roy deflated. How the fuck was he going to get this book back to this annoying Grayson kid? He couldn’t leave it in the classroom, and he had no idea what the kid even looked like. All he had was a name...

“DICK GRAYSON, PLEASE REPORT TO THE FRONT OFFICE. DICK GRAYSON, PLEASE REPORT TO THE FRONT OFFICE IMMEDIATELY.”

Dick couldn’t help the embarrassed blush that spread across his cheeks as his name blared from the speakers posted in the hallways. Of course the office would choose a passing period, when everyone was in the hallways and could see him. Now the entire student body would think he had gotten into some kind of trouble. Students only got called to the front office for a few reasons.

He tried to hide his face as best as he could as he walked towards the office. As far as he was aware, he hadn’t done anything wrong, so there wasn’t any reason for the principle to be involved. Maybe he had won an award? He was one of the top students in his class, so it was possible.

The secretary was waiting for him when he entered the building.

“Mr. Grayson?”

Dick nodded his head.

“A friend dropped this off for you. Said you forgot it at home and would need it for English today.”

As soon as he saw the cover, the puzzle pieces clicked into place. Ohhh. This Roy guy was good.

Still feeling the tingle of embarrassment in his cheeks, Dick grabbed the book with a whispered, “Thank you,” before dashing back out of the office.

Once he got to his next class (not English), Dick took some time to think things over. He wasn’t going to play dirty like Roy had, but he had to leave the book somewhere Roy, and only Roy would notice. From what little information Dick did have about Mr. Harper, he knew that the junior had English after him, because the book had been waiting for him in Ms. Lance’s classroom that first day he had used her as a middle man to deliver it to Roy. That meant Dick could leave it behind somewhere close to the English classroom after his own class period, and Roy would find it the same day.

He nearly tripped over the damned thing as he entered the classroom. Sitting on the floor, just outside the English room was a shoe box with his name written on the lid. By now, Roy would recognize that loopy cursive anywhere.

Growling in the back of his throat, he picked up the box and opened the lid. Lo and behold, it was that fucking book.

“Really, dude? The front office? Cheap move, asshole. At first, I thought it would be a good idea to use the book to communicate with you, but honestly, it’s just getting stupid. And now that I know you play dirty, I don’t want to do this anymore. Meet me in person, outside the library today after school.”

Roy couldn’t help the smirk that formed on his lips. So Dick wanted to meet, huh? It was the type of move Roy would expect from a sore loser. They had had a game going on using the book, and now it was all coming to an end. He hadn’t expected that the kid would get so embarrassed from his little front office stunt. Whatever. If the kid wanted to meet, who was Roy to deny him his request? Besides, he had to admit, he was a little curious himself.

Dick glanced down at his watch nervously. He was standing outside the library, ten minutes since school had let out. Maybe this had been a bad idea. He’d wanted to meet Roy, once and for all, just to see who it was he’d been corresponding with. After all of the notes back and forth, Dick had to admit that he thought he and Roy were very like-minded. He’d like to get to know the junior a little better, that is, if Roy was willing. They could make good friends. But it would be a moot point if he didn’t show.

Five more minutes, and then Dick would call it quits and go home. Fifteen minutes was more than enough time for Roy to make up his mind about whether he would be accepting the olive branch Dick had extended, so to speak.

When his timer hit zero, the raven-haired boy shoved his hands into his pockets with a sigh. Guess he wouldn’t be meeting the smartass note-taker after all.

Dick turned, and was about to take a step away from the building when a shock of red appeared out of the corner of his eye. Quickly, he turned back around, and looked up, catching eyes with perhaps one of the most handsome boys he had ever seen in his life.

The other boy’s brows were furrowed, and there was a frown set across a pair of narrow peach lips. Blue sapphires, reminiscent of his own eyes gleamed back at him. There was a green snapback covering the majority of the boy’s hair, but the few strands of his bangs that were poking through the hole at the front where he’d turned the hat around, had been enough to catch Dick’s attention.

“You Dick?” The voice was a little rough around the edges, but warm and masculine-sounding. When the boy crossed his arms over his broad chest, Dick couldn’t help noticing the way the muscles of his biceps bulged from where they were poking out of the beige muscle shirt covering his torso.

It took the sophomore more than just a second to tear his gaze away from the taller boy’s arms, and refocus it on his face. Blinking, he gave a barely perceptible nod.

Before he knew it, the other boy had taken a step forward and was shoving something against his chest.

“Good. Now get your ass in there and return this piece of shit, already.” The redhead pointed at the entrance to the library, waiting for Dick to get over his shock and acknowledge the command.

Despite the surprise, Dick’s brain managed to come up with a witty retort. “You remember to remove your notes this time, Roy?”

The fine-toned arms recrossed over the equally toned chest. “You’re a real piece of work, y’know.”

Dick let a chuckle escape from between his lips. “You’re not half-bad looking, yourself.”

The blush that bloomed on Roy’s face nearly melted into his hair. Dick knew that Roy hadn’t been commenting on his appearance, but when he saw something he liked, he went for it. Dick wasn’t shy about flirting, and now that he had seen Roy in person, he couldn’t deny feeling attracted. He was bisexual and proud. Besides, he had always been a fan of red hair.

“I like your sense of humor,” Dick complimented. “How about I go return this ‘piece of shit’ real fast, and then we can get to know each other a little better.” He raised an onyx eyebrow in suggestion.

Roy scoffed. “Now look who’s aiming for third base.”

Another chuckle escaped Dick’s mouth. “I’d be lucky to get to first.”

Dick could just make out the corner of Roy’s mouth twitch. It was like he wanted to smile, but was holding back.

“Three strikes and you’re out. Just be lucky I’ve already thrown you a foul.”

Dick smirked. “You got that right. Did the umpire in the front office see through it?”

The comment sent those brilliant sapphires rolling. “Strike one.”

Dick hissed. “Yikes. I guess the pitcher doesn’t like it when he gets called out.”

“Strike two.”

Dick shrugged. “Maybe I’ll aim for the home run this time. Go big or go home, I guess.”

The smile finally emerged on Roy’s lips. “Just be lucky I swing both ways.”

Dick felt his heart flutter in his chest. Then, to be cocky, “I thought I was the one up to bat?”

A fond sigh escaped Roy’s lips. “Fine. But I’m saving the screwballs for later. We’ll see how you do on first.”

Dick smiled. “Sounds like a win to me.”

Well, this took me longer to write than expected, but it’s done! Hopefully you’ll like it, my dear. All of Roy’s notes were ones that I took directly from my own copy of The Great Gatsby. I figured his sarcasm would align nicely with my own. Dick’s responses I had to come up with on the fly 😂 And yep, I don’t know where all of the baseball stuff at the end came from, but it’s there, and it’s witty, so I’m leaving it. Hopefully this stupid little thing will satisfy your RoyDick craving for a little while. It was interesting to write 😂

[angelbabylu]

Something Wicked // LH

pairing: witch!oc x vampire!luke

word count: 5k

warnings: smut, fluff, magical stuff 

notes: this is the most self indulgent thing i’ve ever done. it is comprised of a few different elements: first i got the idea for this from this book series about a witch falling in love with a vampire. on top of that, i’ve always been obsessed with higher education for supernatural creatures (like hogwarts but as a university) and i decided to add some of that element to this fic as well. next, there are a few allusions to Macbeth and Les Miserables in this because i really enjoyed how they fit with the story line. and finally, Luke is french in this?? bec i thought it would be hot & also i loved the idea of him being made a vampire during the french revolution. this fic ended up being mostly character and world building and then smut lol but i may revisit this universe again with some actual plot at a later date. 

title: from Macbeth 

:: ::

It was almost 9 pm when the wind began to pick up outside Margo’s half-opened window. It usually wouldn’t have bothered her–she loved the ominous rustle of the trees and the way the wind’s magic made her feel as if she could fly. But tonight, it was whipping jet black hair into a frenzy in front of her face, making it almost impossible to read the book of potion ingredients that sat in front of her. At first, she had tried tucking the offending strands behind one ear, then another. When the hair tie she used to secure it into a curly knot atop her head broke, she groaned in frustration, her head slamming on the desk with a dull thud.

“Alright you fucking mop,” Margo growled to her curls. “I’ll close the window.”

She was surprised to find the rest of her room dark when she moved away from the incandescent lamp that lived on her desk. The enchanted item had slowly increased in brightness as the sun had given way to its rival, assuring that Margo’s studies weren’t bothered by such trivialities as not having enough light to read.

It took only five long strides for Margo to cross her room, but in that time her mind had moved from the conveniences of being a modern witch back to the potions test she was going to take the next day. Mutely, she recited the four fundamental potion bases and what effects they could help achieve. She was on the third when a bright flash of lightning pulled her from her thoughts and stilled her hand on the window sill.

That explained the way her hair was behaving, at least. There was a thunderstorm brewing, and her hair’s natural propensity to disobey increased whenever electricity stirred in the air. She closed the window and went back to her desk; she had more important things to worry about. By the time the deep roll of thunder disturbed the air, she was tucked back in her chair, nose buried in her book.  

Margo didn’t look up again until her senses drove her to do so. There was a slight tingling in her thumb–a witches sixth sense that told her another being was coming her way. Eventually, she didn’t need any of her preternatural senses–the loud clacking of heels against old wood floors announced the arrival easily enough.

Mildly annoyed, Margo sat back. It was too much to ask for more than a few hours to herself–especially when her sisters were involved. She had barely taken a full breath before the door to her room was slammed opened revealing Serena, dressed in what had to be her most revealing outfit all year. The leopard print skirt was tight and short, struggling to fully cover the entirety of her ass. The top–well Margo wasn’t sure if she could call it a top. It was more a flimsy piece of mesh and two strips of fabric to cover her breasts. But if anyone could pull it off, it was Serena. It was not just her amazon like appearance that made this possible, but also the obvious confidence that rolled of her and the way she commanded attention as soon as she entered a room.

Much like she did now.

But Margo had known Serena too long to be intimidated by her.

Raising an eyebrow tauntingly, Margo asked, “Trying to catch an incubus?”

The sharp sound of Serena’s heels was the only response as Serena moved deeper into the room to sit on Margo’s bed. The bed was raised to allow space for storage underneath. Often times, Margo found herself leaping just to get on to it, but Serena was tall enough that she could sit down without a struggle.

Finally, Serena met her eyes again. “Not everyone has a hot vampire boyfriend drooling over them, Mar. I definitely wouldn’t mind an incubus.”

And there it was. The reason why Margo had thrown herself so wholeheartedly into her studies that night.

A warmth started to spread on her cheeks and to the tips of her hair as she blushed. “Shut up,” she grumbled, hating the way just the mention of his name sent her pulse skyrocketing.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Serena said as she played with one of the many earrings up and down her lobe. “Maybe you should invite him to the party tonight.”

Margo rolled her eyes and ignored the girl on her bed in favor of her text. “I’m not going to the party tonight, Serena. I already told you that.”

“Oh for Circe’s sake, Margo.” Serena’s voice was colored with annoyance. “Just come to the party. Live a little.”

Margo kept her eyes focused on the page in front of her. Under Fire Potions, she began reading the uses – poison, hallucinogens, mind-alterations, etc. Serena got increasingly agitated behind her, but Margo continued to ignore her.

When Serena grumbled, “Margo?” Margo finally gave her the response she had been looking for.

“I said I am not coming.” Margo gestured wildly to the mess of notebooks, sticky notes, and highlighters strewn across her desk–though this was not the only reason she would be missing out on the festivities.

Margo had other plans come the witching hour. She tried not to let her face betray that fact, knowing that Serena would not take lightly to her ditching her party for a boy.

“You’ve been studying all night. Take a break and come celebrate with us.”

Margo had argued with Serena enough to know that a simple no might not suffice. Instead, she uncapped a highlighter and grumbled, “Serena, if you don’t leave me alone I’m going to hex you green for the next 24 hours. Then, neither of us will be able to enjoy the party.”

Such use of magic on school grounds was, of course, strictly forbidden. But Margo would happily risk probation for the few minutes of blissful quiet it would bring. Luckily, no one had to hex anyone. Serena accepted her defeat and left Margo’s room, muttering, “Your loss.”

Margo and Serena were both students at the University of the Arcana. They were the world’s worst kept secret. The things that mortal beings feared most were real and living among them, though not with as much horrific tendency towards the cruel as mortals liked to believe. Or, at least, no more so than the mortals themselves. Witches, vampires, demons, shapeshifters–they were human just like everyone else, just a different subclass of humans.

Part of the human experience, unfortunately, was going to a university and getting a degree. Here, Margo studied horticultural magic. It was a degree with which, as her mom liked to remind her, she could go on to become a pharmacist. That was not her plan. She wanted to own a greenhouse someday–maybe do some rudimental medicinal remedies for people in her community. She often dreamed of this simple life on a countryside somewhere.

For now, she was forced to live on a campus large enough to be a country of its own. Not only that but the sorority Gamma Nu with which she had pledged required her to live with twenty-nine other student witches. As much as she hated it–it was a campus requirement. No student witch was allowed on campus without pledging to a coven. That, unfortunately, meant that her sorority sisters never gave her a moment of peace.

Serena had only left Margo’s room for twenty minutes before the heavy bass of some modern hip-hop song began shaking her room.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Margo yelled to no one in particular. The tips of her fingers began to spark blue as she itched to hex someone. It seemed that her sisters couldn’t be bothered to cast a privacy spell on their party, thus subjecting Margo to the loud, rhythmic thumping that would make studying impossible.  

Regretfully, she was terrible at noise redirection spells. Any attempts to soundproof her room would end in disaster. Her plans for the night, to study and retain all that she could before he came, we’re steadily being foiled by distractions at every turn.

Taking a deep breath, she tried to steer her mind to a different route. She just needed to change locations. If she trudged around disgruntled enough, the house would recognize her need, and provide her with a solution. The house was sentient, as all witch abodes were. Something about the excess magic in the air caused them to develop a mind of their own. Sometimes, it was more harm than good, as the house had been known to get rid of entire rooms when it was in a mood. But, just as often, it had been known to give a witch exactly what she was looking for.

Holding out hope, Margo packed up her belongings and slipped out of her room.

“Okay house,” she said pleadingly, hoping it could hear her over the thundering of the music and the storm outside. “Show me someplace quiet I can study.”

For a minute, the only thing she saw was a little black ball of fur that dashed past her feet, following the music downstairs. Witches didn’t have familiars per se, but that never stopped her sisters from ironically adopting every black cat they came across.

“House?” she asked impatiently. A door banged open down the hall.

“Thank you,” She whispered, making her way to the door. It led to the library, which was one story down on the eastern wing, but the laws of physical space did not much apply there.

She couldn’t bring herself to fully step inside, however. This was obviously one of the house’s jokes.

The library was soundproof, that much Margo did know. But it was also haunted by two loud, gossipy ghosts.

“Oh dear,” a larger woman said from her position knitting by the library’s fireplace. If not from the way she was tinted silver and slightly translucent, one might not have known she was undead. “Elizabeth, come see! The studious one did not get invited to the party.”

From somewhere on the banister of the second floor came a tinny laugh. “Well, that’s no surprise to me!” Elizabeth responded. “Look at the way she dressed.”

Margo resisted the urge to pull at her old sweatpants and the UA sweatshirt she wore. “Shut up,” she grumbled. Before shutting the door, she added, “I was invited by the way! I didn’t want to go.”

She ignored Elizabeth’s pointed, “What kind of girl doesn’t want to go to a party?” The sound of which lingered until much after Margo had closed the door.

The house rumbled underneath her, making it clear it was laughing.

“House!” she snapped, annoyed at his antics. Another door appeared in front of her in that instant. This time, she did step inside it. It was the abandoned potions laboratory she hadn’t known existed. A quick survey of the place revealed it was in the basement. Which, happily, seemed to be enchanted, for all the noise of the party disappeared as soon as she closed the door.

It was perfect.

Margo toiled over the cauldron in the laboratory for hours, using whatever preserved ingredients she could find to build practice potions. Having always been a tactical learner, this made the art of potion making so much more accessible to her. The fire underneath the cauldron burned hot, causing her to shed her sweater for the loose grey tank underneath. Eventually, she piled her hair up and away from her face, to avoid the way the steam had caused it to stick to her cheeks and the back of her neck. The ingredients were old school–more animal than plant-based, as she preferred to work with. But Margo made it work nonetheless. 

                    Eye of newt.

                    Toe of frog.

                    Wool of Bat.

                    Tongue of Dog.

Round and round the boiling pot she went, throwing in the ancient ingredients and murmuring incantations, learning the form way better than any text could teach her. She was so lost in the art of it all, she was sure nothing could pull her out.

Then the witching hour came, and a sharp prickling sensation in Margo’s thumbs told her that someone was looking for her. Or something. It was much bigger and much more powerful than Serena–it sent her witch’s sense haywire. She knew just who was it was. She had been waiting for him all night. For a moment, she debated going up to the party, finding him, and dragging him back down to the basement. But, there was a spell she knew, old and powerful, that would bring any creature to her in an instant. Of course, with ancient magicks, there was always a chance of attracting unwanted, much more dangerous attention.

Sighing, she lifted up a quick prayer to Hecate, then said, “Fuck it.”

Turning away from the cauldron, she recited the old but powerful spell.

By the pricking of my thumb, Something wicked this way comes. Open, locks, Whoever knocks.

She closed her eyes for a breath, and when she opened it, he appeared in front of her like an apparition. At first, he was nothing more than a blur of black and silver. He had entered the room at full vampiric speed, and her eyes had to take a moment to adjust, to register what she was seeing.

Her heart began pounding in her chest, not unlike the rhythmic thumping of the bass she had heard earlier. Run, her instincts told her, recognizing that there was a predator, much larger and much deadlier than her in the room. She tried to calm the pounding she could now feel in her throat, with a breath. It came out shuddering.

Now that her eyes were fully adjusted, she could see the way his pupils dilated, no doubt at the sound of the rush of blood through her veins. As he advanced on her, she took a few steps back. Eventually, she was stopped by the edge of the table next to where the cauldron still bubbled over.

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you.”

Vampires were at the top of the human food chain. Because of that, everything about them was designed to draw prey in. Luke was no different. The way he talked was an aphrodisiac, the smallest hint of an old French accent rolling off his tongue lasciviously, drawing a longing from her core. She felt the moment her body realized that she was in no immediate danger, and her heart started hammering for an entirely different reason.

“I know,” she responded, trying to sound cavalier. It was why she had thrown herself so wholeheartedly into her studies that night. At some point in the afternoon, she had received a text. It was just five words, yet it had made her toes curl with desire. Witching hour. I’ll find you. The modern monster’s equivalent of a booty call. Margo, not one to betray her studies for a man, had spent all afternoon with her nose buried in a book. Now that he was right in front of her, she was confident enough in what she had learned that she had no trouble stepping away from the cauldron for the night.

Instead of getting closer to her as her whole body ached for, Luke moved to survey in the room. In turn, she surveyed him. His movements were cat-like, each motion deliberate and graceful. The white, silk shirt he wore was unbuttoned halfway down and tucked into a pair of black leather pants. A peek at the smooth expanse of his chest made Margo yearn to reach out and touch, but she stayed backed up against the table, allowing him to walk the layout of the lab.

“Pilar said you were somewhere studying,” He referenced her housemate easily as he walked around the room almost aimlessly, first glancing into the still bubbling cauldron, then the ingredients that lined the shelf. Ungraciously, she felt jealousy rise to the surface, sending pinpricks of magic down her spine. Margo was well aware of Luke and Pilar’s brief tryst a few months before, and in moments like these, when her senses were bridled by lust, she couldn’t help the primal instincts of possessiveness.

“Potions test.” She responded. Then, because she couldn’t quite put the thought out of her mind, she added, “Pilar needs to mind her own business.”

She was proud of herself when the words didn’t come out sounding shaky or hoarse.

“She’s worried about you, ma chérie. All you do is study.”

Margo tramped down her envy and reminded herself that she hadn’t spent all day studying just so she and Luke could fight about his over-friendliness with his ex. Instead, she tried to focus on nudging Luke’s eyes back to her with a suggestive comment. “I’m not studying right now.”

At her goading, Luke finally gave her the attention she craved. He turned to look at her, his smirk dangerous and promising.

“I prove to be an adequate distraction, no?”

She didn’t see him move. Rather, one moment, he was across the room with a jar of dragon scales in his hand, and somehow, in that same instant, the jar was back on the shelf, and he was next to her, tucking an escaped curl behind her ear.

Immediately, she heaved her chest up to him.

The way he tutted was almost regretful as he traced the line of a barely visible scar, one that he had left on her chest less than 24 hours before. “Oh, ma chérie. You’re already addicted to my touch. I can hear how your blood sings for me.”

Bowing his head, he gently brought his lips to the scar that rested just above the swell of her bosom. “Are you ever,” he paused slightly as if choosing his next word carefully. “Scared of this?”

Scared of this. Scared of them. Historically, witches and vampires did not come together for anything more than sex and political alliances. But, there was something deeper between Luke and Margo. The memory of how indignant she had felt when Serena mentioned her hot vampire boyfriend rose to the surface. Even now she had a hard time with the state of their relationship-how quickly she had come to fall in love with her predator. He often reminded her of the power that he held over her and how her sense of self-preservation became nonexistent whenever he was around.

Luke nipped at her skin lightly, not enough to draw blood. It wrenched her from her thoughts and into that moment with him. When her heart stuttered, he stared up at her, a wolfish grin playing on his face. In moments like these, they both regressed to their animalistic impulses, running on deep, primal instincts left over from their ancestors.

“You forget, Hemmings, that I’m powerful too,” Margo muttered a quick incantation, and this time, the speed with which Luke moved was not due to his vampiric abilities, but rather the invisible bands of wind that twisted around him, pulling him off her, and restraining his wrist. His attempts to burst free of his magical binding was futile. He pulled at his invisible restraints and bared his teeth in warning to her.

The animal inside him did not like to be tied up.

She ignored the way her blood roared in her ears, focusing only on the fact that if it sounded loud to her, it would be deafening for Luke.

Reaching out to the potions table, Margo grabbed a knife she had been using earlier, wiping any traces of ingredients from it with a quick, cleansing water spell. Then, she held it up to her breast. Both her and Luke tracked the way the cool blade as it came to rest against her skin. The grey tank top, as unattractive as Elizabeth’s ghost would find it, did the job of sparking Luke’s interest. She wore no bra underneath, so it hung low on her ample bosom and was thin enough that her nipples all but poked through.

She pierced the skin right where Luke had scarred her before. In response, Luke’s pupils dilated further until his blue eyes were almost completely black, and his breath began to get ragged. Now, it was her turn to smirk.

“I might be addicted to your touch,” she purred. “But you’re addicted to my taste.”

Luke impossibly broke free of her binds and had his hands gripping at her sides in a second. He buried his face in her neck, not going for her blood until he got express permission to do so.

“Can I?” His voice was rough and riddled with want. She nodded once, and Luke dropped his mouth to her heart vein and started to drink deeply.

Nothing that Margo had experienced in her 21 years of life was as erotic as a vampire drinking from her chest. In popular culture, vampires drank from their lover’s neck. That was too impersonal of an action, Luke had informed her. Vampires drank from a mortal’s necks when they planned to drain them and leave them for dead. There was something much more sacred about their relationship, something that made the idea of taking blood from that public place repugnant to him.

As he sucked deeper on Margo’s chest, a shiver of lust set inside her aflame. She could feel herself grow wet from the pull of blood out of her and into him. It was an aphrodisiac, and she was powerless against the feeling it brought. From the way Luke flexed his fingers at her side, she could tell he was just as affected by it as she was. He pulled away to thrust his erection against her.

“Wanna drink while I’m inside you,” he begged.

She didn’t trust her voice not to come out in a ragged plea, so she nodded mutely, already reaching for the hem of her shirt to pull it over her head. Luke hoisted her up unto the table she had barely noticed digging into her back. Instead of returning to the wound on her chest, already closed from the healing properties in his saliva, Luke went for her nipples, sucking on one as he rolled the other between his forefinger and thumb.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered almost reverentially.

He started on a path downwards, kissing her stomach, licking into the dip of her belly button. “You know,” he began as he knelt in front of her, fingers already poised to remove her sweatpants. “Since the change, I’ve questioned my belief in a higher power. But when I do this with you, I know He’s real. Nothing else but an omnipotent deity could have created an angel as beautiful as you.”

Margo bit her lip. Having spent some time with the romantic era poets of the mid-1800s, Luke was prone to outbursts like these in the midst of sex. Margo liked to tease him about it.

“I’m no angel,” she retorted a slight quirk of her lips. “I’ll be right there in hell with you, Luke Hemmings. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

Luke took a moment to respond, choosing instead to remove her sweatpants and panties. Then, he placed a few chaste kisses to the inside of either thigh, letting his scruff rub lightly against her teasingly. Margo’s hand shot out, running through his hair a few times, before trying to lead him to her folds.

Instead, he chose that moment to respond to her earlier comment. It was always like this with them. Push and pull. Two opposing tides of want, dragging their sex in different directions. “You are too intoxicating. The devil will try to steal you from me.”

Luke brought his mouth back to her stomach, lapping at the salt of her skin. He nibbled slightly, causing her to release a shuddering breath.

“The devil can’t have me,” she cried between gasps. “I belong to you.”

That was just the motivation the vampire needed. “And I to you,” he growled. It was a guttural sound coming from deep within. In the next moment, he brought his tongue to her, pressing it against her clit.

He spent his time worshiping her folds, before adding one finger inside her. Margo’s legs fell open wider in response, inviting more.

“How does every inch of you taste so good?” He asked in another bought of reverence. Margo’s only response was a cry of euphoria as Luke’s fingers scissored in and out of her, drawing immeasurable pleasure. For a few moments, she basked in the sensation of a lover taking his time to reduce her to cries and shudders. When she came the first time, she was so lost in this sensation, she wasn’t cognizant of the little sparks of magic flittering off her, falling to the tables and the floor.

It was not until Luke muttered, “Shit,” that she opened her eyes to see smoke rising from a hole burnt into the hardwood floor.

“Fuck,” she cursed, still panting. “My bad.”

They glanced at each other for a brief moment, taken by the heat of each other. Then, they devolved into laughter. This wasn’t the first time Margo had burnt something in the midst of their passion, and it wouldn’t be her last.

Luke stood and picked her up amid their laughter. In response, she wrapped her legs around his waist and peppered her face with kisses. “Take us back to your room,” he begged. He raised one foot in the basement of the old house as Margo whispered her incantation, and when he put it down, they were back in her second-floor room.

“God, I love magic,” He breathed, depositing her on her bed.

“Me too,” she responded, and with a wink, all his clothes disappeared. Luke was unconcerned with their dematerialization, knowing from experience he would find them neatly folded at the foot of her bed the next morning.

Crawling on top of her, he slotted their mouths together in a motion they had done so often it became ritual. They spent a few blissful moments, rubbing unbidden against each other. But Luke was impatient. Soon, he was pinning both her wrists above her head with one large hand and entering her slowly.

At first, his thrusts were slow, deliberate, as he got used to the feeling of being inside her. Then, when his movements started to become more erratic, Margo bared her chest to him, knowing exactly what he wanted. His teeth pierced the scarred flesh easily, and he moaned at the first drop of blood that made contacts with his lips.

He released his hold on her hands then, so his were available to wrap his hand around her throat, grip at her side and play with her clit or nipple as he saw fit. The animal in both of them moved about in unrestrained movements as they devolved into hands, teeth, and hips. He drank until it felt like the open wound in her chest was somehow connected to her pussy, each deep suck causing her walls to contract.

She groaned, one hand in his hair, the other in the sheets. It was heaven for her, but for him, it was even better. Curious, Margo had once asked what it felt like to make love to her and feed from her at the same time. He said it felt like being burned alive in the best way possible. Passion consumed every inch of him, setting him aflame.

When he pulled back from her chest, they were both seconds away from climaxing. Immediately, he brought one finger to her clit, playing with it as he thrust inside her. She came, and he followed. This time, a soft glow of light radiated off her in pulses, matching the pulses of her orgasm. Her magical reactions to him were getting stronger.

She turned her attention to the man now draped atop of her, breathing in deeply, taking in the heady scent of the room.

“Smell something you like?” she teased, knowing he liked the smell of them tangled together in the room. Luke loved being unable to smell where he ended and she began.

“Yeah,” he breathed in response, still visibly affected by Margo’s blood. Margo laid there a few minutes running her hand through his hair, waiting for him to come down from the high she had caused.

When Luke was back to himself again, he flipped them, so she was lying atop him. With a quick incantation, Margo brought the blanket gently over their shoulders. Peacefully, they settled in for the night.

“I love you, mon cœur,” Luke uttered the sentiment first.

Margo repeated it.

“Wake me up at 8?” She wanted to get some last minutes revisions done before her test at 10 and one of the best things about having a vampire boyfriend? He didn’t need sleep, so she had a personal alarm. Margo thought the kiss he placed atop her head was an affirmative and a goodnight all in one. He had one more thing to say.

“Le suprême bonheur de la vie, c'est la conviction qu'on est aimé; aimé pour soi-même, disons mieux, aimé malgré soi-même.”

The supreme happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved; loved for ourselves, or rather in spite of ourselves.

It was a quote from his late friend, Victor Hugo. In moments of reminiscing, Luke thought back to the time he’d spent with the author and poet. He had told her once that he never believed he would find the happiness Hugo spoke about. But he found it with her.

She squeezed his side gently, a silent admittance that she loved him as well. 

:: ::

Part 2: Man or Beast

end notes: shout out to anyone who recognizes the names margo, serena & pilar who are elle’s sorority sisters from legally blonde the musical lmao. let me know what you think! love yall!

tag list: @5sosnsfw / @bloodmoonashton / @lukescaboose / @5sex-of-summa / @deviantnines / @halcyonnhood / @gh0st-0f-y0u-95 / @aspiringwildfire / @cal-pal-cuddles / @hotmessmichael / @hereforlukescruff/ @softforcal / @ohhmuke / @fratcalum / @calumamongmen / @ashtonandcalslefthand / @asht0ns-world / @colorful-queen-of-the-roses / @heavenlydrarry / @slowlyelectronictragedy / @myemptywallets / @pagesuponstpages / @fallfrxmgrace / @thefireisgone / @michaelorwhat / @dammitbands / @sugarcoated-pain / @sublimehood / @cal-puddies / @singt0mecalum / @irwinkitten / @myloverboyash

[spiders-n]

Tease Shirt

A headcannon struck when Z so graciously gifted us this image so I followed it straight to hell. 

Now on AO3

-----

Peter has been studying for his last final for what feels like years when his phone buzzes against the hard surface of the university library table.

MJ: Hey dork. I need a small favor.

Peter’s brow furrows.

Peter: Shoot.

MJ: I have been sexiled yet again

MJ: and while I would normally just kill time around campus for the next couple of hours I just finished my last final and I feel like if I don’t take a shower in the next 10 minutes I might not ever smell clean again. Would you mind if I came over and used your shower?

Peter couldn’t help the frown that slips onto his face. This is the 6th time MJ's been unable to get into her dorm since January because her roommate is having sex. She normally doesn't complain because she loves her roommate and is generally a huge supporter of any woman who actively claims their sexuality but she had let it slip to him once that she was beginning to feel like she spent more time avoiding her dorm than actually living in it. He doesn’t even need to think about it when he types out his response.

Peter: Of course, Em. You don’t have to ask, I made the extra key fob for a reason. I’m still studying for my Orgo Lab final but it’s all yours for as long as you need it. 🤓

Even though he was technically not allowed to, he’d taken his key fob apart in Mr. Stark’s shop and made duplicates for Ned and MJ to get into his building when it had become clear to them that his living arrangement in a newer dorm that gave each resident a private room and bathroom was, by far, the most agreeable place for the three of them to hang out.

MJ had used her’s a hundred times over the course of the last 9 months, Peter is sure, but there is something oddly intimate about letting her be there while he isn’t. When he'd typed his message, the only thing in his mind had been his memory of MJ during last semester's final season, exhausted and worn, and even Peter had to admit, looking a little worse for the wear. Now that he's paused long enough to push past that mental image and the immediate urge to fix it anyway he can, he thinks that perhaps saying "you don't have to ask" may have been a bit too much. He panics for a long moment, trying to remember what state he’d left his room in but eventually resigns his worries to the back burner when he remembers that MJ once saw him blow his nose with a sock and then proceed to leave the snot crusted sock on his bedside table for a week and has since managed to voluntarily and enthusiastically kiss him 59 times since (yes he’s counted). Either she was just as gone for him as he was for her or she had a serious lack of regard for the hygiene of others. 

He can't help the surge of excitement he always got when he and MJ crossed into any new territory in their relationship. He'd given her the key to his dorm as a friend and now she'd using it as his girlfriend and that felt very significant to him in a way he knew would make her fondly roll her eyes at him if he shared with her.  

MJ: omg I’m definitely taking a nap in ur bed and you can’t stop me!

MJ: also thank you

Peter squirms as he reads the first message and tries desperately not to think about MJ freshly out of the shower and in his bed.

He’s seen her just out of the shower twice in his life, and would be lying if he said they were anything less than moments that defined his teenage sexuality. The first time was when she accidentally got snowed in at May’s apartment one weekend in their junior year of high school. She'd stopped by the bring him his homework and decathlon flash cards after he'd missed school due spider-manning a little too hard the night before, and didn't get the chance to go home until Monday evening. That was the weekend she'd found out about him and also the weekend that he'd first realized that he was probably in love with her, a realization that came about largely because of how incredible she looked after her shower. He remembers the very confusing combination of feelings he’d felt when he’d seen May’s green stripped pajamas sticking to MJ’s still wet skin as she stumbled into Peter’s room from the steam-filled bathroom and shook out her hair from it’s bun. He’s still convinced that the whole scene happened in slow motion.

The second time was during their summer abroad after graduation. They were staying in a bunk bed laden Airbnb in south France with Ned and Betty and a couple other Midtown Tech graduates. Peter had been talking himself in and out of just finally asking her out all summer. They were practically already dating in that they spent most of their time together, wholeheartedly supported each other's hopes and dreams, and very routinely accompanied each other to various events that society required people to bring dates to. His only hang up was the unyielding fear that making things romantic would ruin the best friendship he'd ever had outside of Ned. That hang up was mostly stomped out when he saw her next that night. She’d stepped into the room in blue silk shorts and a matching tank top wearing, and Peter remembers this very clearly, absolutely no bra. She had water droplets sitting on her shoulders and arms as she wrestled her hair into a towel and she finally moved her body upright he could see the faintest sliver of exposed stomach resting just above the band of her shorts. It was, in Peter’s opinion, one of the most under appreciated Michelle Jones looks of all time. And Peter had very thoroughly appreciated it at least 4 times.

He glances back down at his Organic Chemistry text book from the screen of his phone, the page half hidden by the notes he’d been going over, and groans at the reality that he’s at least an hour away from an A on his final and more realistically two if he wants to walk in feeling really confident.

Peter takes a second to gather his will and silently reminds himself that even if he was with MJ in his room at that moment the most that was likely to happen would be some making out and co-napping since they hadn’t actually done anything more than that yet. His monkey brain then counters back at him that literally nothing in the world actually sounds as good to him in that moment than making out with MJ and then taking a nap and he’s back to grumpily looking down at his textbook.

It only takes a couple minutes of begrudging reading for him to actually gets caught up in the material and loose track of time for while. It's an hour after their original conversation that his phone buzzes and snaps him back into the real world.

MJ: How much longer do you think you’ll be studying? You should come nap with me.

And then the temptation to say fuck it and just chance getting a slightly less awesome grade in Orgo was back in full force. He takes a deep breath and pries himself away from the alluring thought of a warm bed and an even warmer MJ. 

Peter: The thought did cross my mind. I am probably another 45 minutes away from feeling very confident for this exam, though. Will you wait for me?

Peter hits send and forces his attention back to the material. Whatever the answer, the sooner he finishes studying the sooner he’ll be able to see her.

Five minutes later his phone buzzes and he flips it over to see that he has a Snapchat from MJ.

When he opens it his barely suppressed moan is caught in his throat. MJ is laying on his bed, hair twisted up into a towel, glasses on instead of her normal contacts, lips covered in his f a v o r i t e shimmery chapstick that tastes like mint, all of which would make Peter want to jump her bones even more than he normally does, but on top of all that she is very clearly wearing one of his shirts. One of his Stark Industries shirts.

He’s so overcome by the image that it disappears and he has to replay it again to read the text she’d left in small print over her shoulder.

“I’ll be here all night….” It read. At that Peter actually does moan at that. Out loud, and it turns a couple heads from near by tables. He doesn’t care though because this picture of a very cuddly and soft MJ in his fucking shirt literally waiting for him to get home is too suggestive for his over crowded brain to take. He closes his textbook with more force than is sticky necessary and shoves it into his backpack, scrambling to do the same to the highlighters and notebooks he’d spread around the table as well.

When he’s packed up he grabs his phone and texts MJ.

Peter: I’m coming home now

MJ’s response is almost instantaneous.

MJ: what happened to feeling really confidant for your Orgo exam?

Peter rolls his eyes and then grins. If she wants to play coy he can too.

Peter: it got really hard

He sends and then waits for her to open the message before typing again

Peter: to focus, I mean

MJ’s response lives in the gray dot dot dot at the bottom of Peter’s screen for what feels like ten years before she finally send it.

MJ: Maybe I can help you work it out…

And it’s the ellipsis at the end that forces him into action. Suddenly, before he can bully his brain into keeping up with his body, he’s out of the library and making his way steadily across campus to his dorm with the kind of speed that he normally only employs when he’s patrolling but he’s loathe to find a time that more desperately calls for such measures.

In the end, he learns two very important lessons.

The first is that there is nothing hotter than coming home to find your girlfriend spraying canned whipped cream directly into her mouth clad not only in your T-shirt but also in your boxers. And as he later finds out, absolutely nothing else.

The second is that you tend to test better when you take an exam after a post orgasm induced sleep. Who knew?

[icouldntthinkofabetternamesook]

A Study in Insomnia and Building a Better Home

I might have posted this already, but I'm going through some of my old works and I remember how much I liked this little pice I wrote about Dick moving into titans tower after falling out with Batman.

Enjoy!

........

There is a grey room, with grey walls, a grey bed, a grey plastic desk and a grey ceiling. There is a grey bathroom with a sink, a mirror, a shower, a tub and a toilet. An empty closet stands beside it all.

I paint the grey walls sky blue, a blue I’ve only ever seen in the sky over Kansas fields. It drips on the uncovered grey floor so I paint the floor, then the ceiling. I open all the windows, leave it to dry and contemplate what I’m doing here.

I take the grey bed and add dark blue sheets. I add a white comforter, a mint green knit blanket, a yellow knit blanket and a pale blue blanket weighted so heavy I can hardly move. I add more pillows then there should be room for, in cases of green and yellow and dark and light blue. I move it into a corner and put down a rug that spirals from orange to yellow to green to blue where it once stood in the middle. I add a bed stand on either side and try to get some sleep.

I fix a white bookcase onto a wall and get to work. Books need to be sorted and photos put up. Weights need to be unpacked and the mat rolled out. I get rid of the old desk and add a new one with more drawers, more space. I get rid of the old chair and add a new one that can spin and has a fuzzy mint green cover.

I add a mini fridge and attach a sticky note telling me to go down to the kitchen to eat instead. Four times out of five I’ll probably ignore it, but that one in five matters so I put it up anyway. A giant calendar goes over the desk, white dry erase so I can use it month after month.

I add a yellow desk lamp because I know I’ll be sitting here when it’s dark and I should be asleep. I add one to each of my bed stands and hope it will get me to go to bed if I can work there too.

Weeks later I stare up at the ceiling and decide it’s not done. 

I open all the windows, get more paint and start adding fluffy white clouds. The overhead light fixture is replaced with one of stained yellow glass, swirled with orange. Yellow swirls are painted around it and now it's the sun.

I stare at my sky and decide I like it.

The grey bathroom becomes the same sky blue as the used-to-be-grey room. The ceiling becomes a simple white. I pack the sink with scentless soap and make-up and towels and everything I need to take on and off. I add light bulbs around the mirror's edge to illuminate and highlight every flaw and every scar and every single thing I need to cover up to be normal. I don’t like what I see so I use my make-up to finger paint over the mirror and turn my attention elsewhere.

My eyes flicker to the green and blue towels lying on the floor, toilet, towel rack then rest on the bright yellow bath mat I got because it made me smile when I saw it in the store. “It’s A Good Day to be Happy” it makes me smile and makes me annoyed in equal measure. The smiles are worth it and I don’t always have to look down.

I never unpack the closet in full.

I have too much stuff and not enough space and not enough motivation. It’s a black spot of my own creation in a bright world of my own creation. A bit like me I guess, and leave it be.

There is a room, with blue walls, a blue-green-white-yellow bed in eternal disarray, a  meticulously organized white desk, and a sky for a ceiling. There is a blue bathroom, a sink stained from concealer and nail polish spills, a mirror I try to ignore but fear the consequences of such, a shower with it’s tub, and a toilet. A closet of unopened boxes stands beside it all.

[pinercuba]

Jade garden seattle dim sum hours

The food is hot, fresh, and readily available. During lunch, the service is nearly immediate. Before I even get to the food – let me clarify. The Jade Garden may be nearly the perfect ID dim sum experience. Again, that's all you can eat of the best Dim Sum in Seattle, for well under $10! Luncher: JeffLunch: Family style - $8.00 We ate more than we should have today and walked away paying $9 each after tax and tip. The other great thing about the Jade Garden is the price. The Pan Toasted Sesame Shrimp & Scallion balls are usually a highlight, but today our order was a bit cold. Every piece I was able to sneak away with was hot, tender, and tasty (just like I like my. It is spiced with diced fresh red and green hot peppers that add just the right bite. It has the perfect combination of rice, pork, mushrooms, and tiny shrimp. Yum! The sticky rice is always great and today was no exception. The dumplings were hot, with a nice meaty wrapper and tangy, gingery pork filling. The standouts today where the Pork and Ginger Dumplings, the Sticky Rice in Lotus Leaf, and the Calamari. We topped it off with Chinese broccoli, deep fried calamari, and honey walnut prawns. If not, you have to be a bit more assertive to get food flowing past.) We started with dumplings, shu mai, and noodle rolls, then the sticky rice and spare ribs and more dumplings. (Note: If you get stuck back here, make sure you get an early seating when the carts are still moving through. Today we walked right in and got one of the large tables in the far back room. However, since hot carts are always passing by, it's easy to get in and out in forty minutes or less. It is not unusual to have to wait a few minutes for a table. Also unlike its neighbors, Jade Garden is packed for lunch every day and by mostly Chinese speakers. But what it lacks in style, it more than makes up in taste and attiude. It doesn't have the splashy decore or the bright fancy exterior that others use to cover up their sub-par offerings. It is exactly how I expect a popular Hong Kong dim sum restaurant would be: always packed, lots of dim sum carts, great food, and lots of locals. The 30+ tables are packed into five or so distinct eating areas, some at slightly different elevations and one, at the back of the maze, in what was once a neighboring restaurant. Jade Garden is large, yet it still somehow maintains the feeling of a small restaurant. Luncher: GearyLunch: Family style - $8.00 The dim sum here is good every time.īy the way, I had dinner here, and it sucks. I think I'd just like to see more specials - new dim sum every time. The service is kind of rude, but that doesn't bother me. And then everything with shrimp in it and sesame seeds on it - good.Īs much as I love this place, it's missing something that I can't put my finger on. I also tried the garlic pork buns for the first time, they were also good. You can also order a plate of fresh fried calamari, which tastes terrific. My favorites are the Sui Mai, the little bits of pork spare ribs, and the rice in lotus leaf. Compared to other places, the dim sum here just tastes a little fresher, a little more flavorful. They use liberal amounts of Pork and Shrimp in everything, which just plain rocks. And you never have to wait more than 30 seconds to get your food. This place has huge tables, is always crowded, and the selection of food on the carts is terrific. Jade Garden is where I come when I want Dim Sum in Seattle. Luncher: EmmettLunch: Family style - $8.00 Very tender and well flavored pork along some tasty ginger. I'd never had one before, but they were simply awesome. But, the highlight of the meal for me was the Pork and Ginger Dumpling. The pork spare ribs seemed bigger and tastier than normal. even with groups as big or bigger than 10 people.Īll of the food was delicious. No matter how busy Jade Garden is, I've never had to wait more than a couple of minutes to get a table. I was split on whether to give this place a 4 or a 5. Pan Toasted Sesame Shrimp & Scallion Balls.Address: 424 7th Ave S, Seattle, WA 98104

[writingcommons-blog1]

“Untitled” by Bug E.

The 574, G-Town, Granger Indiana; a boujee suburb situated north of South Bend Indiana on the border of Michigan. Range Rovers, Jaguars, three storied houses and white people permeate the suburban landscape. There is nothing anyone can do in Granger Indiana, except drive around on the open Michigan roads, see a movie in the theaters or get intoxicated off various substances. All the high schoolers smoke weed or drink alcohol out of sheer boredom. To make things worse, lake effect snow and humanities effect on the climate, creates frigid conditions. No rational person would want to leave the warmth of their homes and step foot in the snow of the suburban jungle. Unless you are my homey Sommer.

My homey Sommer is one of the most quiet, mysterious girls I know. She wears hoodies, sweat pants and puts zero effort into her look; she doesn’t have to. Not much comes out of her mouth. When it does, it is a well thought out observation about the inherent nature of humanity, society and the universe. She is mysterious and quiet, the mystery stemming from her silent disposition. We sat next to each other in Calculus class. We knew each other previously (from smoking reefer at an elementary school with a group of people) and we eventually started talking a lot in class. The teacher got annoyed by how much we talked and commented, “Do you two ever shut up!”. We didn’t interrupt other students and we still maintained good grades in the class which is why the teacher never stopped us. I could tell that she was adventurous and wanted to live her life to the fullest. I did not know how much this girl would change the way I viewed the world, until one extremely cold school night.

Who wants to step out into the cold winter, risk getting arrested and or grounded? My homey Sommer of course. One school night we were texting about how boring Granger is and how routine our live were. Wake up, go to school, go home, do homework, go to bed, repeat. The monotony of the Granger life was getting to us. We came to the conclusion that we should sneak out and smoke some reefer. I have never snuck out of the house in my entire life. I did not want to risk getting in trouble with my parents and I did not want to leave the comfort of my house by stepping out into the cold winter air. However the mystery and allure of wondering where the night would go prompted me to make a move that I, to this day, don’t regret or expected myself to make.

My heart was beating, the hall was silent. The anxiety of wondering what my parents would do if they found me in the hall while wearing sweats, heading toward the garage past bed time was running through my head. The hall was dark and silent except for a small blue nightlight and the creaking of the floorboards. I was worried that the creaking of the floor would cause the brown beagle alarm to go off. Thankfully the beagle alarm was on snooze as I heard his snores echo through the living room. I made it past the hall and to the garage door. I cracked it open and snuck into the garage. It was cold in the garage, but it wasn’t as cold as it was outside. I snuck out through the back door in the garage, instantly ankle deep in a white powder that chilled me to the bones. I walked around the house to the driveway where The Pegasus was regally parked. The Pegasus is a 2011 Dodge Journey Mainstreet with a beautiful interior and a solid sound system. I hopped in and started the car hoping it wouldn’t make too much noise. The car came to life with the small console touch screen reading 11:45 pm. I put the car in reverse trying to get out as fast as I could. I got on the road and headed toward my homey Sommers house, wondering where the night would take me.

I arrived at her white house and sat in my car while listening to my music on the quiet volume with the heater at full blast. I was nervously checking my phone hoping I didn’t get a phone call from my parents. I waited in front of her house in my warm toasty car and saw a silhouette come around the house. She walked to the car and hopped in. I greeted her with my typical greeting of, “Whats poppin my dude!” She responded with “Ayeeeeeeeeeee!” She asked where we should drive to in order smoke that young marijuana and I knew a place really close to her house. We drove through her neighborhood, on white winding suburban roads to an opening that was across from an elementary school. I parked next to the opening between a road and the suburban houses. I reached into the glove compartment and pulled out my bowl, lighter and bag of sticky icky. We stepped out, instantly feeling the biting cold of an Indiana winter. My hands were shaking because the cold numbed my hands as I broke apart the herb and packed it into the bowl. I said, “My dude, take the first hit. Its all yours.” She put the pipe to her mouth and I tried lighting the lighter. My hands were so numb and cold that I was shaking as I tried working the little metal wheel. I eventually got the little flame to burst up. I held the lighter up to the pipe and saw the flame hit the green goodness. There was a crackling sound and a sharp skunky smell that permeated the cold air. She produced a phatty of a cloud and let out a little cough. She handed me the pipe and I held it up to my mouth. I took the lighter, lit the front and felt the warm, dank smoke fill my lungs. I breathed out a big cloud of smoke and condensation. We both started laughing at how big the clouds were. The night was not over yet.

The air was a biting cold and the snow muffled all the noise. I went back to the car and put all my illegal paraphernalia in the glove box. I felt the mellow buzz hit in my head and body. I stepped out of the car and saw my homey Sommer look around very peacefully. She quietly said, “Its so silent and beautiful out. Nobody is experience what we are experiencing right now.” It truly was a beautiful night. We walked across the road the to the elementary school playground. We sat in one of the tunnels next to the slide; side by side. I felt the warmth and shivers of her body. We both sat there commenting on how beautiful the night was and how relaxed and mellow we both felt. I felt vibrations tingle up and down my entire body, my thoughts turning into gibberish yet I still was able to think clearly. A calm numb feeling overtook my body. I was thinking about how if I decided to stay in my room, then I would not have experienced that night. My homey Sommer said, “How are you supposed to experience life if you’re so complacent with routine.” It rang so true to me. I always wanted to live my life to the fullest, and for the first time in my life, I felt like I was truly living and experiencing the world. We both started getting VERY hungry as the munchies started setting in.

Our hunger led us to Steak and Shake. The time was around 12:30 am. We walked and giggled to the Pegasus which was parked in the neighborhood across the street. I pressed the ignition button in the car and the heat went on at full blast. I put the car in drive and told her to put on the song “This Is The Life” by Two Door Cinema club. We both started singing the lyrics, “Because if this is the life, this is the life, this is the life, this is the life then who’d argue.” The lyrics and beat of the song matched the mood I was feeling that night. The weed amplified the music, highlighting all the notes and sounds, engulfing my entire body in sound. I piloted The Pegasus to Steak and Shake, going about 25 miles per hour. We got out of the car singing and giggling as we walked in. The workers gave us weird looks, presumably because we kept giggling and had bloodshot eyes. We sat down and waited for someone to take our order. After about fifteen minutes somebody came to our table and asked us what we wanted. My homey Sommer ordered a Coke and burger with nothing but ketchup on it. I got Hi-C and a Fresco Melt. We waited about twenty minutes and talked about how good our beverages tasted. Our beverages tasted WAY better than they should have, the taste hitting every taste bud. We talked about how alive we felt, that life is supposed to be adventurous and not monotonous. The food came out and it tasted fantastic. Each note of taste was amplified, the burger juices tasted rich and the fries were salty. The colors around me were amplified, the whites whiter and the reds redder. It was a sensory overload. After we ate, the tiredness set in. We decided to head back to our houses.

I dropped her off at around 2:00am. I told her that I had an amazing night and that we should do that again. She left the car and I drove back reflecting on the night. I wondered what else I missed out on in life because I wasn’t brave enough. I decided that from now on I should be more open minded to new ideas and possibilities. I got home, snuck inside, stripped into my boxers and still felt cold from being out in the freezing cold. I slinked under the covers and fell into a deep slumber. I woke up the next day feeling fresh and ready for school. I was excited for second block to see my homey Sommer and talk to her about the night. We sat in class and reflected on how beautiful and silent everything was. I looked next to me at my homey Sommer and asked, “What is our next adventure?”