Written By:

written by: 🥺

[14:04] your last class of the day was just about to start when yang jeongin, your seat mate, leaned over and tapped you on the shoulder, asking if he could copy your homework. again.

sighing, you retrieved your homework out of your bag and placed it in front of him. "don't make it look too obvious."

"i never do. you know that i'm a master of disguise, y/n."

"yeah, sure," you retaliated. "changing the order of a couple of words in a sentence doesn't make it less obvious that you copied."

he squinted and stuck his tongue out at you.

"i better get a reward for this," you grumbled.

at the end of the class, you were just walking out of the door when someone grabbed your bag, holding you back. you turned to face jeongin. he stared at you blankly, to which you gave a expectant nod.

"yes?"

"why are you leaving?"

you paused. what was wrong with this kid? "because it's the end of the day and i want to go home," you replied, matter-of-factly. "why? do you sleep on the desks overnight?"

"no! and i know, i just thought you might want your reward." a moment of silence as you blinked in confusion. "you know, for helping me."

"oh, okay. go ahead."

you held out your hands to him, expecting sweet treats, or money, or something of the likes to be placed generously in your palms.

you received nothing of the sort.

instead, a warm hand grasped your own, and before you could react, jeongin began pulling you through of the school.

"hey, what are you doing?"

he didn't answer, only dragged you through the corridors and out of the front gates. he only stopped when you planted your feet into the ground, stopping him from walking. defiantly, you untangled your hands. "jeongin, what the hell is going on?"

"i want to give you your reward."

"and my reward is being kidnapped?"

"no," he chuckled, eyes smiling with him and making your heart beat a lot faster than it should've. "i'm gonna take you out to get boba. there's a new shop near the park so we can go there."

you felt all of the breath leave your lungs at his words. you had expected a bar of chocolate at most for your help, not something like this.

"like...a date," you asked, except it sounded like more of a statement. you regretted the words as soon as they left your mouth, but jeongin nodded—much to your surprise.

"like a date," he confirmed. smiling, he held his hand out to you. "you coming?"

hi guys!! one half of two-racha here. my name is eva, i’m one of the admins of the account. as hattie’s already mentioned, she and i share the account because we’re both really passionate about writing and love to write together. here is myyyyyy intro:

eva—

emoji: 🐝 (so u know who’s posting)

pronouns: she/her

age: 17

things that make me happy: reading, stray kids, tea + scones, being the sexiest person in the world, marvel movies, writing, nature, boobies (women 🏳️‍🌈) and feminism.

Operation Miroh

trigger warnings: none

written + edited by: 🥺

pairings: hwang hyunjin x oc

summary: A string of murders lead Detective Yang Nami down the winding streets of Seoul’s maze district, searching for the Vampire Slayer. But what happens when her digging leads her far closer to home than she could have ever thought? What happens when it’s someone she’s supposed to trust?

Prologue

There are lots of rules when it comes to vampires.

First, they must be invited into a house before they can enter. I'm not entirely sure why--they aren't usually portrayed as the most polite of people, not when they're plunging their fangs into your neck and sucking you dry. But it's a rule, and they have to abide by it.

Second, they must avoid certain things such as sunlight, garlic and anything remotely holy. Supposedly, it's because they're devil incarnates and anything too potent or bright or religious can harm them. I just think it's because they have weird allergies. Kind of like how I'm allergic to oranges, which is really inconvenient because they look like they taste good. It sucks.

Finally--not that it's the last rule, but it's the final most obvious one--they can only be killed by certain methods. Some of these include the use of silver, fire (they're insanely flammable), decapitation and a stake to the heart--the most famous and popularly used of them all.

All of this is purely hypothetical, of course. Just myths formulated by people with better things to do than tell stories of bloodsuckers and the threats they pose to us poor, helpless prey.

At least, that's what I thought.

I had read enough stories and watched enough movies to know the basic rules about vampires, but not enough to blindly believe my boss when he told me they're real.

"You're kidding, right?"

He's kidding. He has to be. Maybe he's crazy, or maybe this is a prank.

I searched Captain Park's face for signs of amusement or maybe some sort of twitch--a crack in his demeanor to tell me that he wasn't being serious. His face remained completely flat.

I glanced around the room for cameras, wondering if I was on some kind of prank show, or that one TV program What Would You Do?. It would have been a really shit prank, because I was definitely not buying it, but you never know. Maybe they'd run out of ideas. I might have been payed more for not falling for something so stupid.

The same security camera that had been in the office since I began working there blinked back at me, red light flashing. I'd seen security footage from it before--for a security camera at a literal police station, you'd think that it'd have better resolution. Apparently not.

Which meant it wasn't a prank show, at least not one that valued it's camera quality. Which meant my boss was crazy.

He stared at me silently, not bothering to answer my question. Yep, definitely crazy.

"I'm serious, Detective Yang." He did look serious. Since when did he start taking acting classes? I thought. I mean, I took drama for 3 years and even I wouldn't be able to keep a straight face after spilling that level of bullshit.

"So you're telling me," I said, picking at my finger nails, "That not only there's been a series of killings around this area, but that they're all down to Vampires."

"A Vampire. And yes, we don't know for sure, but that's what it looks like."

"And what evidence do you have that it's a-" I waved my hands around in the air, as if summoning some common sense for the man. "-An actual Vampire and not just, I don't know, a regular serial killer. Which would be so much easier to deal with."

He clasped his calloused hands together and leaned back in his chair. He had an air of distaste surrounding him as if I was the one who was speaking crazy, but maybe that was because he always looked like he'd just smelled something revolting. Wrinkled skin scrunched up unlike the smooth sheets of paper stacked on his desk; lips pursed as if he'd sucked on a lemon for four hours; small, black eyes squinted despite the large, square glasses balanced on his nose. He had a habit of looking down on people even though he was 5'6 at most. Most people would describe him as intimidating but, to be fair, most people hadn't been told by him that Vampires exist.

"I understand your disbelief." Yeah, no shit. "I, too, was skeptical at first. But the evidence I've been shown convinced me that this is no joke. I know you like to believe that we humans know everything about our world, but the truth is that we simply cannot. You're going to look into this case whether you believe it or not."

Fighting to ward off the compelling urge to sigh and tell him again how stupid this is, I nodded curtly. "So I just have to find this..." God, I can't believe this is actually happening. "...Vampire. And bring them in."

A failed attempt at a smile passed over his stern features. He must have thought he'd won. "Precisely. I'm glad you're picking up on this."

"Can I think about it over the weekend and get back to you?"

I definitely would not think about it and I definitely would get back to him--to tell him that I was absolutely not doing it.

But of course, the universe seemed to be against me all of a sudden. Or maybe it was just him. "No, you can not," he stated plainly. "I've given you this case and you must take it. It's that simple."

"But Sir, there are loads of other Detectives who can do this job. I'm sure there are more... believable cases you can give me," I argued, trying my hardest not to sound in control and totally not like I was pleading him.

He leaned forward and his chair whined under his weight. "You're right." Wait, really? "There are plenty of other Detectives who can do this job and do it far better than you can. However, I am asking you to do this, and like the fair and just man I am-" (I had to resist the urge to roll my eyes at that one and, instead, just stared at the side of his desk). "-I will give you a choice: You do this case or you're out."

"Hold on," I began, gaze snapping up from the corner of his desk to those hard, black eyes, "I'm out as in... fired? For real?"

He nodded nonchalantly, not a word slipping past his thin lips. You have to be kidding me.

"That's ridiculous. This entire thing is ridiculous."

"I'm giving you a choice. Make it." He shrugged.

It wasn't really a choice, just the illusion of one. I'd worked under this man for two years by that point. He knew how much I loved that job and all that it meant to me. He knew how much I threw into it. He knew everything I'd given up to be there. And now I had to choose between discrediting my career with a Vampire hunt or losing it altogether. Options, options, options.

"You know what my answer is already."

The corners of his mouth curled up into a smirk. "I do." He reached for a pencil with a sharpened, pointy edge and twirled it around his fingers. "But I want to hear it from you."

God, I hate this man. Trying to hide my seething rage, I gritted my teeth and swallowed. "I'll take the case."

He barely reacted, just continued to play with the pencil. That doesn't mean I didn't notice the triumphant, cocky glint in his eye, though. "You are more like me than you think, Nami."

I looked at him curiously. That couldn't possibly be true. The only similarity that we shared is both working there, and we didn't even do the same job. So yeah, apart from the massive age gap, gender difference and literally everything else about us, we were totally the same.

"How so?" I asked, not sure if I wanted to know the answer or not.

"We're both intelligent, dedicated, hard-working." And not the slightest bit modest, clearly. "And like me, you know your place in this world and you will stubbornly defend it." He dropped the pencil onto the desk and it landed with a muffled clatter, then rolled until it hit a framed photograph of him with who I could only assume were his wife and two children. It reminded me that there must have been some remnants of a kind, young man beneath his cold, commanding demeanor--in the worst way possible, though.

He reached over to pick up a file and flicked through it until he settled on a page. I watched as his eyes scanned the paper. Just as I thought he was about to provide me with some tangible evidence of the wild claims he'd made that meeting, he spoke; "You are dismissed."

I found myself glued to my seat, my limbs weighing me down like anchors. "That's it? Are you not giving me a file on this?"

He glanced up from what he was reading for a brief second before continuing. "I'll email the main pieces of evidence to you digitally. You will be given a file tomorrow morning, once all of the necessary data has been compiled."

I didn't reply. Was I supposed to leave just like that? This man had told me that he thought the serial killer rampaging our region was a Vampire and that he was willing to fire me if I didn't take the case, all in the span of 30 minutes. And I was supposed to just soak in all that information with barely an ounce of explanation or evidence? Apparently so.

Hesitantly, I stood from my chair. A searing pain shot through my back, reminding me that I'd been sitting in a wooden chair for the past half an hour.

Captain Park regarded me for a second as I crossed the room. Hand on the doorknob, I faltered, waiting for him to say something, and when he didn't, I left the room, shutting the door behind me as gently as possible--despite the desire to slam it in frustration.

It was almost dark by the time I got home. The cerulean blue sky was stained with bright white dots, and the streets were bathed in the orange, artificial glow of the streetlights. With flushed cheeks, a running nose and icy hands, I fumbled with my keys until my apartment door unlocked, making a mental note to take a scarf or gloves in to work the next day.

I had stayed later than usual that night, finishing off any write-ups and looking through evidence relevant to a few other cases. After the meeting, I hadn't seen the Captain around, but that was for the best. I might not have been able to control my instincts for much longer.

Warmth swept through my body as I stepped in to the living room. I discarded my satchel on the floor and shrugged off my coat, folding it over the back of the couch. It was unusually empty and unusually quiet. Just as I went to search the apartment, a voice sounded from behind me.

"You're home late."

I whirled around to see Soyeon, leaning against the threshold where the living room and kitchen met. Her blonde bob was pulled into a short ponytail, revealing her pointed chin and signature smirk.

"I texted you," I said.

She retrieved her phone from her pocket and glanced at the screen, the blue light illuminating her face. "Oh, you did. Sorry, I didn't see. My phone is being weird at the moment."

"You gonna get it fixed?"

"Eventually."

I rounded the couch and plopped onto it, the cushions sinking beneath my weight. "Where's Jeongin?"

"In bed," she answered, following suit, "I think he has a cold."

"You should have told me, I would've brought some soup."

She waved her phone in the air as a reminder. "Again, dodgy phone. And it's alright, I got some anyway."

"Stupid school kids," I grumbled. I sighed and sunk further into the couch. Soyeon glanced over at me, concern gracing her features. "Bad day?"

I chuckled humourlessly. "Weird day."

"Not allowed to talk about it?"

I faced her and nodded. She repeated the action without a word of protest. It was different at first; Soyeon was always so eager to be involved in every part of my life, and when I told her that I couldn't disclose information about the cases I was working on for legal reasons, she got upset. But after a while, she understood that it was out of my control.

Instead, she extended an arm out to me. I shuffled closer and pressed myself into her side, inhaling her familiar scent of acrylic paint and chai tea.

"You must be tired," she mumbled.

I hummed in response, unable to muster up the energy to force words out. Her head leaned on mine, the way it always used to, except this time was an act of friendship rather than romance.

With every passing moment, my body grew weaker and my eyelids heavier, and after a while, I was unable to resist the tempting call of sleep.

sickeningly sweet

written by: 🥺

genre: little bit of angst, mostly fluff

warning(s): swearing, smoking/ vaping, mentions of alcohol

summary: skater!jisung is sickeningly sweet. he tastes it, too.

[1:26]

Clouds of steam swirl through the night air, obscured by streams of tangerine light from a nearby lamppost. It smells of something like candy-floss or bubblegum, though you can't tell which. There's not much difference between the two--they're both sickeningly sweet, causing you to scrunch your nose up at the smell. You really should be used to it by now, but for whatever reason, that's not the case.

"Don't listen to Jongmin. Half the time he's drunk, the other half he's high. Don't take anything he says seriously."

You chuckle humourlessly. "That's no different from you. I still take what you say seriously."

"Hey, I'm trying my best," Jisung exclaims in an accusatory tone. He lifts his hand and jabs his vape in your direction, "And I know for a fact that you don't take anything I say seriously."

"Well... Yeah, you're right."

You lean back on your hands. Cold concrete numbs your skin and you wince, but don't move away. Instead, you shiver and tug Jisung's leather jacket closer to your body.

"He's a dick. A massive one. I'll give him a piece of my mind next time I see him."

"You don't have to do that."

Jisung takes a long drag of his vape, holds it in for a few seconds then blows it out in a large puff. "I will. You call my best friend a-"

"Jisung."

"Right. Sorry," he says and clears his throat. "Say what he said, you deal with me."

You successfully suppress a laugh, but its not easy. You're grateful that Jisung is protective of you, but where he excels in toughness and trash-talk, he lacks in stature and physical capability.

"Thanks a lot, Sung."

"No problem."

You glance at Jisung. His skin glows and eyes sparkle in the warm, overhead light. A circle of light surrounds his messy, blonde hair like a halo, but you think he's the furthest from an angel that could ever be.

Jisung turns to you suddenly, those doe eyes gazing at you and you suddenly feel naked.

Vulnerable.

"You wanna see some tricks? I've been working on a few lately."

You simply nod. You watch Jisung grab his skateboard from where it lays at his feet and push himself off of the brick wall. With one swift movement he's skating down the ramp and up another. He stops at the peak, then jumps a little, twists around mid-air and skates back down.

He returns to you with a proud smile and, yeah, now you can see why he's so often mistaken for an angel--if you ignore the cuts littering his face, leather clinging to his skin and alcohol on his breath.

"Come on."

You stare at Jisung's outstretched hand and blink. "What?"

Jisung doesn't let you finish. Soon enough, you find yourself tumbling off the wall and into Jisung's arms. Your converse smack against the pavement and you almost crumple to the floor, but Jisung holds you up.

"Let me teach you."

"Jisung, I can't-"

But your words are of no use. Now clasping your hand, Jisung drags you to the flat section of the skatepark. He lets go to place his skateboard on the floor, then holds both hands out, palms facing up.

You make a face. "What do you want me to do?"

Jisung thrusts his hands in your direction. "Get on the skateboard. Hold my hands, you'll be alright."

"You won't let me fall?"

He draws a cross over his chest then extends his hands again. "Cross my heart."

You exhale a shaky breath; the puff of air forms clouds that eventually fade out, imitating Jisung's previous actions like an eager, younger sibling that can never quite live up to their older sibling's standard.

You step onto the skateboard. It rolls to the side a bit and you gasp in fear, but Jisung is quick to grab your elbows and, wow, you're a lot closer like this, so much so that you can smell the mint gum and candy-floss (or bubblegum) on his breath.

With a reassuring smile, Jisung begins to guide you, urging you to tilt your body to the side and reposition your feet. He pulls you gently to the left, directing you on when to place your foot down and the exact pressure to use when you push yourself forward.

"You're good at this," Jisung proclaims, but you can't tell if he's being truthful or not. "Ready for me to let go?"

"Oh god, please no."

Jisung chuckles and his fingers dig into your skin. "Alright then."

You expect Jisung to pull you along again, to repeat his previous instructions and praise you for doing the bare minimum once more. But when you look up, Jisung is frozen. His eyes sparkle like he's stored the galaxy in them, and you don't think you've ever seen Jisung like this, let alone so close. He's full to the brim with a strange sort of emotion that you can't entirely place but-

Oh.

You notice Jisung's eyes flicker down to your lips. Only for a brief second, but you see it all the same. You recognise the emotion now—it's impossible not to. You've seen Jisung kiss people before, have sat bitterly in the corner of a house party as Jisung made out with whatever guy or girl he could find, so you know that look: it's lust. Or, perhaps, love. You can't tell, only hope.

But you recognise want. Need. And maybe you really need this too.

"Can I kiss you?"

It'd be a big fat lie to say that Jisung isn't an abrupt person, so it's really no surprise that he's the one who makes the first move. But if anything, you expected Jisung to just kiss you without asking. Instead, he requests permission gently, and the lust is still discernible, but it's softer than you have ever seen it.

You nod wordlessly. Jisung doesn't move so, now desperate for Lord knows what, you say, "Kiss me."

You hate how needy you sound, but Jisung doesn't seem to notice. The air around you is so cold, but Jisung is warm. Cold lips against warm lips, cold skin against warm skin, cold breath against warm breath.

When Jisung slips his tongue into your mouth you can tell that, yeah, it's definitely candy-floss.

And it's sickeningly sweet, but that's alright. Because when Jisung finally pulls away and confesses that he loves you, you realise that, despite his tough image, he is sickeningly sweet too.

chan if you're reading this on your tumblr account, hit me up

felix: what are you doing?

chan looking up from his laptop: making a new song

felix: okay, i won't bother you

chan: *continues writing enemies to lovers trope 700k words on ao3*

hi!! i have a request!! i’m hella touchstarved bc of lockdown and i was hoping u could write a fluffy scenario with jeongyeon and a female reader. basically, they go camping with friends (other idols maybe) and the reader gets really sleepy and they go to their shared tent and cuddle up in their sleeping bag for warmth 🥺🥺

yes omg that sounds adorable!! thank u for requesting!!